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YOUR QUALIFICATION
by Woody Winchell
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There is no qualifying
There's just dying
To any self effort
To be good
To be accepted
To be approved
We must lose
Our performance
Disguised as righteousness
We must realize
There's nothing there
The cupboard is bare
An unholy stench
To His nostrils
Trying to compare
The work of our hands
With perfection
Denying our election
Into grace
We want to trace
Some goodness
To ourselves
To be recognized
For our lies
Deceived in purpose
Pretending righteousness
Hiding behind masks
That won't last
As they fade away
With the world
And all its glory
That false story
Of achievement
The measure of success
No rest
Just heavy labor
Slaves to the system
We can't resist them
Apart from grace
From seeing His face
In utter simplicity
Letting love be
Our sufficiency
No more comparing
Just being
Chosen
Selected
Elected
By eternal purpose
To be His
Without trying
Without qualifying
Just being crucified
To every disguise
You have died
There's nothing to prove
So lose
Your false measure
Behold your treasure
In the face of Christ
Quit trying
You're already qualified
Come find your life
Hidden in the Lamb
Beyond fabrication
Enter your qualification
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