Nothing in My Hand

Nothing in My Hand
A Prayer last Sunday at the Highland Oaks COC in Dallas

I wanted to bring you the best of last year, Lord.
Something beautiful.
Or holy or special.
Something that would make you smile
on me—make you proud of me.
I looked and searched for just the
right gift, but as you see
I’ve come to you again with
nothing in my hand.

I thought of collecting my tears for you, Lord,
tears for my sins.
I found plenty of sins
and a pool of tears I’d shed.
But I was caught short in my collecting
by the streams of mercy that
washed over me—taking my
tears with it, leaving me clean and with
nothing in my hand.

Maybe my energy or my zeal or
my hours of work in the
kingdom could be bundled and
wrapped into a suitable gift for
you, Lord. But my gathering
and wrapping only produced a
shabby offering—not fit for a
king and surely not valuable enough
to exchange for your forgiveness.

Everything I tried to make into a gift
for you, Lord, from the inventory of
my life, turned out to be light
as air—my goodness, my
good works, my understanding,
my care, my intentions—
all collapsed into nothing. And in
truth I found myself naked,
helpless and very much in need.

Walk with me through this
year, Lord. Show me what
is real and valuable.
Open my eyes to my need
and to your bounty
so that at year’s end
I may have the privilege
of coming to you—rescued, and with nothing in my hand.