The prayer of a Hypocritical Christian

To each their very own. To each their limited lives.

I am truly ashamed of what I have become. I have tolerated myself and am appalled at where I am and stand. I have become wretched in my own eyes. I have become wretched by my own hands.

One of the greatest revelation since I entered into a relationship was God’s stark wake up call that I was not as righteous, as wonderful and as holy as I presumed to be. I am a stark weak (wo)man. In the midst of a committed relationship with someone, my righteousness was shown only to exist merely because I had no obvious challenge to it. I was kind because I could easily be kind in that situation. I was good because in comparison, I was easily good compared to my friends. I was sacrificial because the standard for being sacrificial was low. I created my own righteousness and naively lived behind it.

And worse of all: I had loved God because I could. I have never loved God because I should. I have been compelled numerous times to love this wonderful, supreme, just, frightening, awe-inducing God for He is beyond all things and He compels me to tears. But I allow it to fade into the side. This wonderful God becomes no more worthy than an idol in which the worshipper comes to serve and pray at set times and days. What a beautiful God. What a wretched child.

I have become terrible. God is calling me into account. Do I go to church because I love him, or do it do it because I can? I tell myself that I would have probably gone to church if perhaps I was persecuted if I had done so. It’s easy to do the extreme, the sacrificial Christian acts so lauded by Christians. It’s hard to do the mundane; to see him in the minute, to worship in the very minute. I have allowed myself to be fooled by these apparent “Fruits” in my life, but I am no better than any of these people that God condemns.

Father, You take what is despicable, You reveal my very thoughts. You brought me into awareness, you precede my actions and my intentions. My words have been written in the book of History, as actions taken past, present and future. You call me into Judgement. You call me to a better Cause. You call m2 to cut all things that You hate. And I fear that I cannot. Every little thing. Every small thing, I must keep the mundane, the beauty of the simple Child. Father, you’ve shown me to be like a barren tree, with twigs that are dead and fruits that are illusion.

For you alone deserve all Glory, For you alone deserve all Praise. Let my every action be beyond my heart. Let it be an act of worship everytime, I open my eyes, and see the early light of day.

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