My Lord, at my window, I begin my day in prayer. Your first light is beginning to brighten my room, but I still kneel before you in shadow and darkness, which is not unlike the Spirit with which I approach you.
Lift me out of this dark place, Lord. Raise me up from my knees and touch my lips with burning coal — impart your words on me so I can take them to the nations and they can again see you for what you are.
We, your servants, have sullied your reputation. We are the reason the not-forgiven serve their own idols and other Gods now. We are the reason they’ve lost you in a sea of sin and immorality.
I am not here to preach, Lord. Only to hear your word for me. I’ll stay face down here until I receive it. As long as I can, I will hold this humble posture. Until my body aches, until my knees can’t stand the bending. What is it you want me to say with this gift you’ve given me? Jesus, can you hear me begging for your words? I want mine no more.
Speak through me. Light this darkened soul the way you will alight this room. Let me suffer for you. Let them mock. Let them attack. I am a man after your own heart. Forgive me for my transgressions — for straying from your ways. I’m too sick to be near you. I know in your presence to stay down, my face pressed into holy ground.
Make me your servant again. Clean. New. With the same light heart I felt the first day you came inside me.