Dear God, why do I bother?

hand for help on the mountain

Dear God,

I don’t even know where to start because anything I write seems insignificant. I’ve recently become aware that what I thought I knew about you is really a meager, infinitesimal fraction of who You are in actuality. I am small in stature, knowledge, and understanding, yet I walk around like I’ve got You all figured out. I didn’t know I was doing this, of course, until you pointed it out. So now I sit here on my knees at your feet in humility unable to show my face yet feeling the need to express my adoration and thanks for You.

On the other hand, I feel a despairing sense of futility. I am frustrated with my humanness. I am self-centered, lazy, arrogant, prideful, and impatient, and because I am human, I can’t help it. I’ve tried. I have striven and strained to make myself better; to strengthen my weaknesses; to serve more; to love harder; to sacrifice myself the best I know how; to do more with my gifts; to refine my talents, all this to make myself worthy of the love, compassion, grace, and validity I so desire from You and the world. Straining to operate outside my humanness nearly caused my death.

So what am I supposed to do other than sit here at Your feet, once again asking your forgiveness for a multitude of sins that have hurt others, most to which I am completely oblivious? And Lord, I confess, that while I depend on you to forgive me and to lead my life and can point to specific instances where you have made yourself so real to me, I can’t guarantee that I would declare you my God if my life was in danger to say so. I’d like to think my loyalty would stand the ultimate test of faith, but if I’m honest I’d bet money that my cowardliness would lead me to deny You. I’d be no different than Peter. I feel deep sorrow just thinking about it.

If my humanness makes my identity with You futile, then why do I even bother? Heck, why do I even bother living when my humanness makes me so offensive?

Hike in HimalayaTo say I am like a moth to a flame would make too much sense. I am more like a mouse to a mountain. When I look up at You I feel dizzy and trembling at your enormity looming over me, yet I am in paralyzed awe of Your magnificence and completely drawn in to the promises that lay at the top. You guarantee the journey up the mountain will make me new; the wretched, clumsy, tiny creature I am will no longer exist, but rather a glorious, beautiful new person with Christ-like perfection. I want that.

For a mouse to climb a mountain is impossible; sorrow and suffering will be my companions and the journey will take a lifetime. Yet because You are the mountain and because the promise that awaits is for me, I can trust that when I call upon You for help’ You will grasp my hand and make the impossible a miracle.

You already have so far. I’ve been on this mountain for a while, haven’t I? My despair today is because I looked down and saw I’ve climbed only mere feet, maybe even just inches. The top is so far away.

I cannot climb up while looking down. I turn my gaze upward to You, renewing my focus on Your promise and asking you to hold my hand. Lord, your power is made perfect in my weakness. May you be glorified as I continue to climb.

In your Son’s precious and mighty name, Jesus, amen.

“The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights.” Habakkuk 3:19 (NIV)


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