05/10/2025
A Prayer
Lord, it’s me, in my rawest form.
No embellishments, no fancy words.
Hands raised high, not because I’m worthy,
but because You are.
I can’t sing like an angel, though I wish I could.
All I want is to bring glory to You in song.
So I sing from my heart when no one’s around,
and I hope You hear me.
Lord, it’s me, as open as can be.
No leaf to cover me, nowhere to hide.
Knees pressed to the ground, trembling before You.
I stumble over words when I speak,
though I long to tell the world who You are.
So I start small, one heart, one story, one moment at a time.
Because even if my voice shakes, I’ll still speak Your name.
Lord, it’s me, worn thin.
Weary bones and a restless mind.
Face down in awe of Your glory.
The noise of life keeps me from stillness,
though all I crave is to know You more.
So I steal moments between the chaos
to sit quietly in Your light.
Lord, it’s me, afraid sometimes.
The world feels too heavy, and I feel too small.
Hands trembling, heart racing, wondering if You still see me.
I doubt when I shouldn’t, falter when I should stand tall.
But all I want is to trust You completely.
So I whisper, help my unbelief.
Lord, it’s me, reaching out.
My plans crumble like sand between my fingers.
I try to control what was never mine to hold.
You ask me to let go, to rest, to be still.
And though I fight the silence, all I want
is to learn to rest in Your will.
Lord, it’s me, redeemed.
Not by what I’ve done, but by what You’ve done for me.
I come with all my scars, all my songs, all my tears.
You gather them in Your hands like treasures.
Because all You wanted was me, all along.
But You say:
I don’t care that you can’t sing, only that you do.
I don’t care that you can’t speak in public, only that you do.
I don’t care that you fall, only that you reach for Me.
I don’t care that you come broken, only that you come.
And so I do, Lord.
It’s me, still raw, still learning, still Yours.