Dead.

Tonight is one of those nights where words won't do. 

I want you to feel the depth from which this flows, and no words seem able to convey all I'd like for them to. 

Because, somewhere in the midst of trying to figure out what the heck I'm even doing, there's a moment of clarity. A moment where I'm reminded that my dead heart has been revived...and that it was nothing I could do myself. The resuscitation required Someone else. 

And so much of the time I think I'm still gasping for air, as though I've forgotten that I've already been rescued from death. And sometimes I get caught up in comparing myself to the other bodies around me, wondering why they seem fully alive while I still feel half-dead. Do they understand something I'm incapable of understanding? How can they believe so fully and wholeheartedly when I feel paralyzed in thought and idolatry? 

Prayers flowed in different languages tonight, voices from North Korea, Nigeria and America filled the air and I was struck by the beauty of it. In our own tongues, we could pray, we could praise, we could petition on behalf for those all over the world...and we were heard. Their prayers were vibrant and heartfelt, there was no volume control or worry about what others thought. Mine were stifled, quiet and kept to myself. 

They bore no shame.

Only adoration and absolute humility in the presence of the King. 

But I was caught up in my own expectations, my own voice, my own fears and disappointments, my own feelings of fraudulence...my own pride.  

What's wrong with me? 

Why do I do anything that I do? 

My heart raced all over the place, committing sabotage wherever it could. Deceitful above all else, it was. Far from the Lord, it felt. 

And then a moment. 

A moment, no matter how brief, to be reminded that Jesus is victorious...even over my sin and shame. That He has revived this heart of mine, when I was so deserving of death. 

I feel like I cling to these moments, because sometimes I feel like they're all I have. The moments where I undoubtedly know that in Him I am alive, I am redeemed, I am saved, I have been given a hope and future. In Him I am counted as worthy... no matter what I do, what I think, what I say, who I am. He paid the price. 

My darkened heart continues to be chipped away as the light penetrates it...for I'm still being worked on. But as imperfect as my flesh may be, I pray that He be glorified through all of me. 

Because, without Him...

I'm dead. 

Without hope of revival or second chances. 

Just dead. 

I pray that you have a moment to also be reminded that because of Him we have been revived. 

May we be humbled right where we are because of it. 

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