I’ve got nothing I can show you.
Not one thing in which to boast.
I offer equal opportunity burns,
On bread and hands making toast.
I’m a failure in all things I touch.
In words and rings and keys.
Just try and count the stacked-up mass,
There’s not one day without disease.
Like a train on tracks of anger.
A boat surfing waves of hate.
A plane flying high in temper.
All emotional travel I desecrate.
Like a Three-card Monte dealer,
My queen of hearts is always bent.
And like a short-term loan husband,
My paycheck is always spent.
Like an aggressive options driver,
Whose always on a margin call.
Just a mile marker from insolvency,
And one market swing from a brawl.
Shall I go on, to speak of everything?
Because if I do, I’d lose more time.
There is no way to count them all,
The wrongs, the sins, the crimes.
And even if I account this loss,
The red grows higher still.
To the point that I and one might think,
That only my life will clear the bill.
But in this shocking moment of thought,
Before my stock market life might end.
One man emerges who lost it all,
Who was, and is and will be my friend.
Now despite all my catastrophes,
He’s wiped clean my every word.
My rings and keys and injured bread,
Even all my debt has He incurred.
So, while formerly a loser,
By acquisition I am restored.
Because He suffered the loss of all,
I have gained the best reward.
Matt. 12:13; Luke 11:8; Acts 3:19; Rom. 3:7, 11:17-19; Gal. 3:13; Phil. 3:3, 7-8
COMING FORWARD 