Flawed as I am

Did I mention that I’m messed up?

Inexplicably flawed?

I mean to do right but I do wrong.

And sometimes, I mean to do wrong and I do just that.

There is good in me; it shows through on occasion,

But many times the bad outweighs it and the wicked outdoes it.


That is why I would never say that I’m perfect—

How could I be?

I always thought I wasn’t worth much,

At least not by most men’s standards;

And God definitely had better things to think about,

Than to occupy himself with the likes of me


Religion was never my thing;

Gatherings in sombre buildings did my head in

But then I found out my inside was bleaker

Than the structures from which I fled;

That I needed a power greater than I

To show me a way I could not find.


One day someone said “Grace”.

That word now means so much

It is when I, the flawed, become the perfected

Not so much because someone fixed the flaws,

But because someone totally un-flawed stood in my place,

And covered me up completely


Grace—that’s why Jesus came

I’m so grateful He wasn’t after perfection,

I would never have been able to give it

Instead, He made me worthy; He paid the price

So that flawed as I was, I’m now brand new;

Lost as I was, I’m forever found.




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