Prayer for Courage

In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him stood the seraphim. Each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one called to another and said:

"Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;

the whole earth is full of his glory!" And the foundations of the thresholds shook at the voice of him who called, and the house was filled with smoke. And I said: "Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!" Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a burning coal that he had taken with tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth and said: "Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for." (Isaiah 6:1-7)

Oh Lord,
I didn't have this vision of You,
And yet I know precisely
How Isaiah felt.

He felt like me:
Small, oppressed,
Knowing full well
All that he had done
And left undone in his life...
Burdened by the weight of
Unspoken, unthought-of sins,
And the impact those sins
Had exerted on his own
And others' lives.
He felt like this,
In the 21st century vernacular:
"God, are You kidding me?
There's NO WAY that You want me
For any of Your plans.
There's NO WAY that You want me
To minister to other people.
Me? ME? Look at who You're talking to!
I'm a hot mess,
And I'm not getting any better!
No, NO God,
Not me,
I am not worthy."

Well..that's how my internal rant sounds.

Actually, that's a condensed version of it.

As Didymus and I
Mutually exert a cathartic influence on each other,
Drawing out of one another
Information we are loathe to share with others,
There is a point when I am crying on her bed,
Desperately clutching a pillow
Like, somehow, it is going to save me.
I am cracking wide open,
Spilling things out of myself
That I thought had been successfully buried
For anywhere between one and three decades.
I am telling Didymus
About Isaiah,
But I don't stop with the verse
Where's he's crying out about his unclean lips.
I continue to relate the rest -
How the seraph brought him
A burning coal from the Altar of Sacrifice,
Touched it to his lips,
And took away his guilt.

I focus on the first part of the story.
She focuses on the latter.

Finally, she asks,
"Who are you to question God?"

Ouch. That stung!

But I acknowledge that she is correct.

And then, later on in the conversation:
"It takes a messed up person
To help other messed up people."

Hmmm, Didymus.
Good point.

So.

My Lord. My King.
I have exerted much time and energy
On living a low-profile life,
Afraid to draw attention to myself
For fear of the judgment and scorn of others.
I have squandered the gifts You have given me.
I have willfully walked on paths
Contrary to Your Will.
I am carrying around the guilt and shame
Of past and present sins,
Knowing fully that You have already forgiven me,
But being unable to forget,
Hand it over to You,
And move on.

O Lord,
Forgive me!
Cleanse me!
I bring these burdens to
The foot of Your Throne,
Understanding that
Giving it over to You
Is the only way
For me to continue to grow
In Your Will.

Have I been using the past
To curtail my present and future?
Probably.
Give me courage
To continue to grow in You.
Give me courage
To seek Your Will for me.
Be near me, Father,
In the days and months and years and eons
To come...