Honest Prayer About What I Need
Father:
While reading your redemption story in the Old Testament, I am absolutely terrified of you. Not in a an awe inspiring, regal, standing-in-front-of-the-President terror. No, a genuinely, I want to hide like scared child tucked as tightly and far back in the closet as possible while the robbers rummage through the house. Scared that in a single moment, you could wipe my existence entirely from the books of history all because I have sinned. I have done you wrong.
And yet, in a paradox of sorts, my fear is left on the side of the road because when you beckon, I have no choice in the matter. My muscles betray me and force me to take step after step towards my own demise. Knowing this, knowing that if I were to be killed by anyone, I would want it to be you, my maker. So my soul cringes, waiting to be struck and only to find a warm embrace of grace, a forgiveness that passes all sense of mortal justice.
I have every reason to be in this place again, because I am created and you are Creator. It was destined from the very start of my existence and a calling in my daily life. With every breath, I find myself wanting this terrible thing, this Holy and Mighty, all consuming presence...all that is You. I want to be here.
And you can't have half of the redemption story because your son's sacrifice has purified my deepest stains. Bleached me to the bone. No longer a white washed tomb, but deeply, thoroughly cleaned child of God. All my fears tempered by the grace of Christ, who gave his life to save me from the fate I deserved.
Yet, I wonder. I am not a Jew. I am a Gentile. You came for the Jews, right? Those are your words, echoed in Your scriptures, something we so easily forget. But, yet you have drawn me in, pulled me close to your embrace, sheltered me time & time again from the harsh fray, and have called me your own. Your sacrifice wasn't for the Jews. Nor was it for the Gentiles. It was for humanity, your creation. It was that we would all come at your beckoning call.
I have heard that call, but still can not say with any sort of honesty that "all I need is you." I need my wife. I need her everyday, though she may not realize it. She is a source of comfort and the object of my affections. She has taught me that love is not simply a feeling but a choice. That you can love someone beyond their character and that you can know someone so much deeper than the surface. I need my children. They give me a sense of responsibility and a instill within me a deep joy and have redefined what it means to truly love, agape, unconditionally love someone. The instance they were born, I was in love. They had done nothing for me and I had a deep desire to fulfill their every need. They are a beautiful gift and one that will treasure until my last breath.
And through my family, I realize that all I need is you. I am those children in your eyes. I am that "bride" that Christ went to the cross for. I am loved.
Thank you for putting up with my fears and loving me all the same. Thank you for loving me beyond my doubts and short comings.
- Amen
While reading your redemption story in the Old Testament, I am absolutely terrified of you. Not in a an awe inspiring, regal, standing-in-front-of-the-President terror. No, a genuinely, I want to hide like scared child tucked as tightly and far back in the closet as possible while the robbers rummage through the house. Scared that in a single moment, you could wipe my existence entirely from the books of history all because I have sinned. I have done you wrong.
And yet, in a paradox of sorts, my fear is left on the side of the road because when you beckon, I have no choice in the matter. My muscles betray me and force me to take step after step towards my own demise. Knowing this, knowing that if I were to be killed by anyone, I would want it to be you, my maker. So my soul cringes, waiting to be struck and only to find a warm embrace of grace, a forgiveness that passes all sense of mortal justice.
I have every reason to be in this place again, because I am created and you are Creator. It was destined from the very start of my existence and a calling in my daily life. With every breath, I find myself wanting this terrible thing, this Holy and Mighty, all consuming presence...all that is You. I want to be here.
And you can't have half of the redemption story because your son's sacrifice has purified my deepest stains. Bleached me to the bone. No longer a white washed tomb, but deeply, thoroughly cleaned child of God. All my fears tempered by the grace of Christ, who gave his life to save me from the fate I deserved.
Yet, I wonder. I am not a Jew. I am a Gentile. You came for the Jews, right? Those are your words, echoed in Your scriptures, something we so easily forget. But, yet you have drawn me in, pulled me close to your embrace, sheltered me time & time again from the harsh fray, and have called me your own. Your sacrifice wasn't for the Jews. Nor was it for the Gentiles. It was for humanity, your creation. It was that we would all come at your beckoning call.
I have heard that call, but still can not say with any sort of honesty that "all I need is you." I need my wife. I need her everyday, though she may not realize it. She is a source of comfort and the object of my affections. She has taught me that love is not simply a feeling but a choice. That you can love someone beyond their character and that you can know someone so much deeper than the surface. I need my children. They give me a sense of responsibility and a instill within me a deep joy and have redefined what it means to truly love, agape, unconditionally love someone. The instance they were born, I was in love. They had done nothing for me and I had a deep desire to fulfill their every need. They are a beautiful gift and one that will treasure until my last breath.
And through my family, I realize that all I need is you. I am those children in your eyes. I am that "bride" that Christ went to the cross for. I am loved.
Thank you for putting up with my fears and loving me all the same. Thank you for loving me beyond my doubts and short comings.
- Amen
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