Contrite.

I don't have anything to give.
Nothing to offer. Nothing to show for.
But I try to prove I do.
I would love for you to believe I can make a difference in the world.
That I have the power to overcome my sin and depravity.
I wish I could.


Oh God, what gift can I bring that you haven't already given me?
I am so envious of what everyone else has, and its stopped You from getting to me.
I want what you've given them. The words, the people, the clothes, the hair, the personality. The likeability.
I want words of man. Ones that don't last.

Why does my heart want these things.

God. I'm so sorry.
I have no words to describe what my heart feels, but you know.
You know the pain within me. The wrestling. But its so much more than that.
Oh God, my spirit groans to be clothed with heaven's splendor and forget this world and its pains and blows.

I have nothing to bring You.

But a life battered and broken. Tattered and torn.
Ripped and shredded.

Oh God, when you found me, I was wallowing in my blood.
I was in imminent death. Life kept slowly bleeding out. More and more.

And when I heard your voice.
I didn't think it would've come with the power that it did.
But my life couldn't stay in this promise of destruction.
You had something else in mind.

Oh death, where is thy sting?
Jesus Christ has laid you to rest.
He has conquered the grave and forced sin to submit.
Freedom for those who have been so robbed of it.

If we all took a step back to see who we are without Christ, we would all melt with the fear of God and the anticipation of judgement.

Jesus, what did you really do for me 2000 years ago?
Because I just don't get it.
Not yet.
Because I know, if I really got it, I wouldn't be living like this.

I'm so jealous of the way other people have experienced You.
And I feel like I've only scratched the surface.
I'm obviously more spiritual than them. Doesn't that mean I should be encountering You more than them?

Or is that completely wrong?
And in fact, is that mentality the one that drives you further and further from me?

I mean, God, look at me.
I don't do things like the wordly.
I don't have one night stands. I don't take drugs. I don't get drunk. I don't kill. I don't rob. I don't. I don't. I don't...
Doesn't that make me worth something in your eyes?
Doesn't that give me value?
I mean, common. I'm doing a Discipleship TRAINING School. Which is only meant for the most spiritual of the spiritual.
And in a place surrounded by unholiness and needs for You, or me.

I think I'm still capable of these things.
I infact, am able.

But God, you know what?
I think I'm sick of being overwhelmed by the weight of my sin.
Its no longer my burden to carry.

Its time to repent, and move on. Having my fixed on You, Jesus, pressing on to make this faith my own.
'Cause Jesus, You made me Yours.

You are jealous for me in a way I can't understand.
If Jesus, being Your one and only real Son, couldn't do anything without You,
how can I, a product of adoption, expect to be able to put my pants on every morning without You?

I don't understand my sin.
Because it just doesn't make any freaking sense.

God, I've got so many questions.
And I know you've got the answers.
But, I want to lay these aside, because I know along the way, You'll answer these questions.
I will lack nothing I need.

I just can't really get over You right now.
I can't stop writing.

God, I don't want to be better than anyone anymore. I don't want to try for that.
I don't want to prove myself anymore.
I don't want to want what others have anymore.

I want to enjoy what I'm given.
You don't have favorites. You love your children all equal.
And I think for the first time, I'm ready to accept that.

This brings all new meaning to my life.
I'm pretty sure.

Friends.
This is my last writing for a couple months
Its something I needed to write.
Pray for us while we're in Mozambique and South Africa.
We need it.
And we are nothing great at all. Nothing.
But God has plans for His people.
And we are His people.
We'll see things happen because the Lord wills it.
Not because of something we are.
Africa will kill my envy. My pride. My sin.
Time to be refined.

I bid you all a pleasant two months.