How many times have I sat in church or in the privacy of my house and prayed for the same thing? Trying use the "right" words to convince God to hear me this time. And how many times have I gotten up, none the better, and feeling a little further away from God? Tonight, I hit that point. That point where I realized it was pointless. My faith? No, my words.

I have been going through a lot lately in my life. This has taken a toll on my mind and body. Though I play the strong unweilding fatih part, I am really an actor pretending to be something I am not. Tonight as I sat down and prayed to God to the same words about how truely sorry I was for this or that, it hit me, or He hit me upside the head. The words, practice what you preach just through my mind. What does that mean? To talk to God as a friend, not as a boss or a client. To open my sould to Him who already knows my heart. To show Him my broken pieces laying on the floor, and ask Him to help me put them back together. Too many times we miss it. He doesn't want us to seek his hand, but His face. He wants us to seek that intimacy of know the lines in His face, not the presents He has in His hands. He wants us to be honest with Him, but that starts with being honest with myself.

Being honest with myself is not easy, but I feel a whole lot better now that the other times after I prayed. As I sat and cried out to God, I know he heard my cry because it came from my heart this time. God has been preparing me for this moment for a while. The other day while driving to a meeting, I put on a song I had not listened to in years. It is from a group called the Waiting, and from their 1998 album, Blue Belly Sky. I have had the song for 11 years, but actually listened to the words for the first time last week. Here they are:

Vs. 1
Golden bars of sunlight come sneaking through the shutters
Laying stripes on my back like a zebra.
Sweaty fingers turning pages, and clinging to the bed
Like it's a bride and I never want to leave her.
Paul calls me a saint and the mattress shakes with laughter
And the sheets let out a chuckle while the pillow holds one in.
I don't believe a word I read, but the man is so convincing
Says You're calling me a winner of a game I never win.

But with every word I read I feel Your eyes upon me
And I don't mind at all.

Chorus
I love the way You look at me, the way You steer Your eyes
To see the bride beneath the harlot's skin, the virtue underneath the sin.
I love the way You look at me, when You lift the veil and You repeat Your vow.

Vs. 2
Get up for the shower, wash, and scrub, and scour every part
As if a cleaner man could better bear the shame.
Now, move out into the sunlight, a frightened fool
There's reason for my fright, for I'm a messenger who's forgetting why he came.

But with every step I take I feel Your eyes are on me,
And I don't mind at all.

Chorus

Bridge
For when you look at me, You see every drop of blood You spent.
Like the color that comes creeping to my face.
It is such sweet embarrassment to see the dowry that You paid for my cold embrace.
But I'll never, never, never let you go because...

Chorus

No matter what, Jesus is looking at me as I looked at my bride at the alter, with undying love. Even though I open a chasm between us with my sins and failures, He is always looking at me and seeing who I really am, and waiting for "me" to come to the forefront. But the bridge really made me break down. He sees every drop of blood He spilled when He sees me. He paid the ultimate dowry, and all He gets from me is a cold embrace. Well, not anymore. As I asked Him tonight to help me to feel Him again, I have to tell myself to help Him feel me again. It works both ways. I have to give also. I am thankful for His willingness to forgive me, and take me back, again.

These are my random thoughts for the night. Although there are many pieces that still need to be glued together, the rebuilding process has begun. I am His modeling project. And He is continuing His work in my life.