And all is stripped away
And I simply come
Longing just to bring
Something’s that of worth
That will bless Your heart
I’ll bring You more than a song
For a song in itself
Is not what You have required
You search much deeper within
Through the way things appear
You’re looking into my heart
How easy it is to sing those words and not think about what they say. I know. I’ve done it. I can remember waiting for euphoria to come as I joined with other college students in singing the song. I wanted to feel something. It was more important to experience a momentary sensation than to worship the God of the universe.
The other day, and even today, my heart breaks as I ponder the words. All is stripped away. I have not always lived a life of worship. I’ve exchanged other things. I’ve moved my lips but not my heart. I’ve defined worship the way I desire, not God’s way.
God says worship is sacrifice. Worship is in spirit and in truth. Worship is putting some skin in the game.
Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. So that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect. (Romans 12:1-2, NASB)
All is stripped away, but do I come? A part of me hesitates. The truth that’s dawned is that I have nothing to bring. I have nothing that’s of worth. How can I bless my Father’s heart? I have nothing. I have nothing to bring.
Oh, Father God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
Other words come, suggesting what to do in response:
What can I say? What can I do?
But offer this heart, O God, completely to You.
I am unworthy in and of myself, but I can come because my worth is in the One who says to come, the One who invites me to walk on water, the One who sees me from a long way off and comes running.
I am reminded of a little drummer boy. I think of another boy with his loaves and fishes. They didn’t think they had anything to offer, either. The drummer boy said so:
I have no gift to bring
That’s fit to give our King
Shall I play for You
On my drum
The other boy said nothing, but what thoughts raced through his head as he came to Jesus? How would his loaves and fishes feed the crowd? How would this small gift bless Jesus’ heart?
I’m not sure either boy thought their gifts were of much worth. The drummer boy didn’t; he asked if he should play and only began when Mary nods her head. The other boy entrusted his loaves and fishes to the One who could multiply them and make them into something good and glorious.
Perhaps that’s what’s actually at stake: coming. The boys came despite knowing their offerings were nothing compared to the incomparable worth of Jesus. I come, too, wishing I had something more to offer but knowing I don’t. All I have is this, my broken heart.
Maybe it’s enough. It seems to be according to what David says in Psalm 51:
For You do not delight in sacrifice, otherwise I would give it;
You are not pleased with burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
A broken and contrite heart, O God, You will not despise. (Psalm 51:16-7, NASB)
All is stripped away. I have nothing to bring, so I simply come. I come and offer my heart and ask God to turn it and the works of my hands into something that’s of worth, something that will bless His heart. I come.
Image: Ricardo Camacho (Creative Commons)