Prayers for Ordinary Lazy People Prone to Self-Pity, Despair, and Hypocrisy…
September 1, 2010 10:22 am
It’s morning, Jesus. It’s morning, and here’s that light and sound all over again.
I’ve got to move fast… get into the bathroom, wash up, grab a bite to eat, and run some more.
I just don’t feel like it, Lord. What I really want to do is to get back into bed, pull up the covers, and sleep. All I seem to want today is the big sleep, and here I’ve got to run all over again.
Where am I running? You know these things I can’t understand. It’s not that I need to have you tell me. What counts most is just that somebody knows, and its you. That helps a lot.
So I’ll follow along, okay? But lead, Lord. Now I’ve got to run. Ar you running with me, Jesus?
I’m crying and shouting inside tonight, Lord, and I’m feeling completely alone.
All the roots I thought I had are gone. Everything in my life is in an upheaval. I am amazed that I can maintain any composure when I’m feeling like this.
The moment is all that matters; the present moment is of supreme importance. I know this. Yet in the present I feel dead. I want to anchor myself in the past and shed tears of self-pity. When I look ahead tonight I can see only futility, pain, and death. I am only a rotting body, a vessel of disease, potentially a handful of ashes after I am burned.
But you call me tonight to love and responsibility. You have a job for me to do. You make me look at other persons whose needs make my self-pity a mockery and a disgrace.
Lord, I hear you. I know you. I feel your presence strongly in this awful moment, and I thank you. Help me onto my feet. Help me to get up.
You said there is perfect freedom in your service, Lord
Well, I don’t feel perfectly free. I don’t feel free at all. I’m a captive to myself.
I do what I want. I have it all on my own way. There is no freedom at all for me in this, Jesus. Today I feel like a slave bound in chains and branded by a hot iron because I’m a captive to my own will and don’t give an honest damn about you or your will.
You’re over there where I’m keeping you, outside my life. how can I go on being such a lousy hypocrite? Come over here, where I don’t want you to come. Let me quite playing this blasphemous game of religion with you. Jesus, help me to let you be yourself in my life–so that I can be myself.
~Malcolm Boyd; Are you running with me, Jesus?
Categories: Prayer, Books
No Comments »



Recent Comments