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A Meditation For A Wretch

Lord, you have stripped away all pretense of strength. All hope of acquired virtue has been dashed upon the rocks of the fact of my finitude. If I did not hope in you, I would have surrendered everything out of sheer discouragement.

Yet you are here. Your blood flows as freely as it did the day you made the bloody sacrifice on the hill of Calvary. It flows for me. I know it as fact, not consolation. I do not feel your tenderness, nor would I deserve it if I did.

Hear me as one who seeks your friendship, not as one who speaks fearful pleas for mercy, hoping you will answer. Speak to me as a friend to a friend, as if I had never broken faith with you. Restore me for your own name's sake, because I do not love you as you love me.

My desire for you is my only gift, meager as it is. If you were pleased by a lowly widow who put in all she had, perhaps you will show mercy to me, because I bring even less.

You see all things. You see in the moments I would like to forget. In those moments, some part of my heart must remain unpersuaded of your love. If I were persuaded of your love, those moments would not exist. I have often said that you are the God who forgives and forgets. May you preach it to me as I have preached it to others. May it prove true, for your name's sake, and for my good.

Holy Spirit, you inspire all prayer. You sent the prophet Nathan to confront the King. And now, by your own power, there need not be a Nathan for me, for you speak in the prophet, and in those who comfort afterward.

May you alone be my joy which comes in the morning. Amen.

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