I hate that my heart’s grown numb to You. And maybe the fact that I even can hate means my heart is not quite as numb as I think it is. Perhaps this perceived lack of feeling isn’t quite something to be so dramatic about as I can still feel hate for the gratitude and things I seem not to feel. But if I feel that hate and little to no love for what this condition may mean, then is my heart healthy or sick? Is it possibly both? How could that be possible? It’s not. So it’s either one or the other and I wonder which it is, but even if I were to answer for myself I would wonder whether I speak the truth or speak what I wish to be the truth.

And this is where I should be able to just sit and listen to You or observe the opportunities You place before me as where you either see me fit or see I need growth. I should be. But my heart is so numb that I notice these things and don’t think anything of it. I scarcely look at all these things anymore and say “Lord, thank You for letting me know what you see in me, growth and need for growth alike.” And that’s the part I hate.

So it seems that the hate for this condition of mine is warranted or righteous. Yet this is where I begin to wonder whether I’m doing enough about it– am I allowing it to sit and fester like dirt in an open wound, or am I at least attempting to pour the rubbing alcohol over it despite the searing pain of its cleaning? Do I bite my lip? Do I cry out? Do I mutter or yell out curses from the same lips that claim to praise You? I hate that any one of these could be answered with a ‘yes.’ How does fresh water come from a salt water spring? it can’t. So I often wonder whether or not my praises are then valid and pure enough to be worthy of You.

Truth is, I don’t know how I’m doing. It doesn’t seem to help that every door is getting slammed shut in my face and all I can think is either what am I doing wrong? or why am I not enough? It makes it hard to believe that You’re really there or that you care– but believe I still do.

I guess sometimes all You’re asking of me is to survive. As long as you allow it, my life simply means that your grace, your patience, and your kindness hasn’t run out on me.

So I guess I should be asking myself why am I letting my own grace and patience and kindness run out on myself? any of that which is mine came from You, and yours never runs out– why do I deplete my own supply when you’re right there?

Lord, I know you’re not a feeling, but I just don’t want to feel numb to you.

lord, I know it won’t always be easy to believe in you or your promises, but help my unbelief.

Lord, I know that by my own power my imposter syndrome is right, but it’s Yours I want to draw from and rely on. By your scars I am healed. By your blood, I am purified.

so help me God, please.