A Prayer

Father, helpless, I look to you.
Have mercy on a boy at the end of his rope.
If the rest of the world is buying cheap grace on Sundays and worshipping at the bank,
Then I am clasping my hands and parting my hair,
Hoping that if I put the right gift on the altar, maybe I can play harp one day.

Lord, are you some fickle totem?
If we perform the right dance, will you give us rain?
Are you a cosmic vending machine?
But even if we had quarters, you gave them to us to begin with!

Christ, have mercy on me.
Rescue me from all this fruitless posturing; deliver me from this foolish thought: that I might somehow earn your favor.

Draw near to me, my God and Father.
I am bankrupt. I am weak. I am foolish and conceited and lazy and self-righteous, and I need you.
If you will have mercy on me, then I will exult even in this; for your strength is made perfect in my weakness.
I thank you, for you are merciful.
Amen.