Father. At times my eyes and heart are so set on this life, this earth. I don't deny that I have wounds in my heart, voids in my life, and I try to fill them. I try to make myself complete. How pitiful and retched I feel after. I fail to come to you. And the things in this life, the sin I fall into, are perversions of a memory of the garden or a perversion of a prophecy of Heaven. Things you created for me to experience. But I'm impatient and don't trust you. You've blessed me with certain things for a season that I won't let go of. You haven't given me certain things in my life yet, and selfishly I seek them out anyway. And that deepens my independence and the hurt in my heart. Show me how to be utterly, completely, dependent on you. Like a child who is lost without his father.
My heart is
calloused from sin. I get used to it, and the consequences are watered down and ignored - until I finally crack, until my independence shatters. I binge on living by the Spirit and binge on living by my flesh. I need You. I need Christ. I need a steadiness. A
perseverance. I'm lazy and not
spiritually disciplined. There is a switch in my mind where I turn you off in certain circumstances, places in my heart where I won't let you in. At times I am god.
I don't listen, I don't follow rules, I throw your advise through the window and at other people. Give me more. More of You. More of Christ. Burn the rebellion out of me, peel the scales from my eyes, scrape the callouses off my heart. It will hurt. There will be trouble and pain in this life. But it is worth so much more. In the end - it truly won't matter how much it hurts. And I will cast my crowns at your feet. And you'll embrace me as a son. And those feelings will live on. Draw my eyes toward Heaven, Father.
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If you can sleep without a stir, wake without a second thought, and go through the day without knowing that something is terribly wrong inside of you and around you - then I fear your heart is calloused to Christ's cause. Please. Please. Wake up. And walk with me brothers and sisters. This world is not our home. This life is not our own. Can people tell?
"There will be times when I think we do not desire heaven; but more often I find myself wondering whether, in our heart of hearts, we desire anything else."
- C.S. Lewis
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