Prayer Room #11 - Pride

Will I ever stop running? This monumental battle for who I am and healing rages inside my chest. Opposing forces are battling and fighting as we speak. Like two dogs fighting inside me. This choice is paramount. Drowning in offense, lies assaulting, telling me that I’m helpless, hopeless, without a future. The barks and intensity of the rabid dog cause fear and shame. The howls and snarls bring up past words and feelings and reassures me that “I” can fix them alone. To keep them hidden. For the rabid dog has been recently exposed as such. What once was my golden retriever, my comfort and solution to my pain has now had the light of truth shown on it. My old comforter is destructive, insane, wild, deceiving, soothing and evil. It shows me what I was, where God wasn’t, what I deserve, how I’ve been wronged. It invites me back to Egypt with wholehearted abandon. I trusted it, enjoyed its company, and even miss it still. It is the easy road. The wide path that many have gone along. Filled with comfort and instantaneous satisfaction. It is the darkened rooms inside my heart, where light has not shown in decades. It is seduction and illegitimate pleasures without lasting satisfaction. O how the wickedness of comfort has sacrificed the wild and adventurous Christianity we all long for. True life, true pleasure, and true satisfaction are not found with the rabid dog. Disease and infection are the fruits of this one. Emptiness and shame are its children. Power, provision, and protection are its promises. Promises it doesn’t have the resources or ability to keep. This dog provides lack, addiction, and corruption. It’s sweet voice is instant pleasure and draws us towards years (if not a life) of parched tongues, hidden lives, and shameful wickedness. Yet I still cling to this dog. For I have been taught well. I despise the other Dog. Where was He when I needed Him? Why did He bring this pain upon me? He calls me by my actual name. He calls to the one lost beneath mud, scars, and infections. He desires to wash my feet. To serve me and I deny Him. Just like I have been doing my entire life. Yet I know if I turn to Him. If I just turn around and allow Him to love me and hear His voice then He will never let me down but satisfy me fully. So what is holding me back? Pride. That some wrong should be righted before I come back. I feel like I am in a bargaining position with God. I am still trying to manipulate my surroundings to control them so that I am not hurt. God, Father, Daddy, Abba, Friend, it wasn’t Your fault that I got hurt and my family got hurt. It wasn’t your fault. This is me turning around to You. Please come into my life and heal the brokenness and wounds. Please bring freedom to my life finally. Freedom Jesus. Abba free me from these chains of offense. Please don’t leave me here alone. Let me feel Your touch, let me feel Your hug. Let me finally cry…please Jesus I am helpless. I can’t do anything on my own. I am tired of running and not being satisfied. I am tired of being let down and being hurt by those I love and give my heart to. Daddy please heal me. I invite You in. I want You to heal my wounds. I want You to see me at my darkest. No matter the cost. I desire wholeness. Please help me. I can’t do anything. I’m here, I’ve turned. Embrace me, embrace Your son. Let me feel Your love. Let me hear Your voice. These are my desires. Peel away the fake selves inside of me. Burn the masks. Penetrate me with Your burning eyes. You who see all and know my need and how to bring freedom. Bring it. Do it. I desire wholeness. Burn away everything not of You. I want to love you more…