the prayers of a Pharisee

Jesus, I don’t know how to let You love me without earning it.

Every time You move toward me, I reach for proof instead of trust.

Lord, I’m tired of being right and empty at the same time.

I’ve won arguments and lost joy.

Jesus, I don’t know how to be still without feeling useless.

Silence exposes how much I depend on achievement.

Lord, I’ve confused discipline with devotion.

Untangle what I’ve knotted in fear and pride.

Jesus, I know how to obey You,

but I don’t know how to enjoy You.

Teach me the difference.

Lord, I’ve learned how to look faithful,

but I don’t always know how to be faithful.

Meet me where appearances fall apart.

Jesus, I keep bringing You my effort instead of my heart.

I don’t know how to stop—so I’m asking You to teach me.

Lord, I’m afraid that if I rest,

You’ll see how empty I am.

Stay anyway.

Jesus, I’ve been strong publicly and brittle privately.

I don’t want to live divided anymore.

Lord, I don’t know how to receive love

without turning it into a transaction.

Re-teach me how to receive.

Jesus, I don’t trust grace yet—

but I want to.

Help my unbelief.

Lord, I’ve measured myself by progress, not by presence.

Slow me down until I notice You again.

Jesus, I’ve tried to impress You with fruit

when You were inviting me into a relationship.

Lord, I’m tired of carrying my identity like a résumé.

Lay it down with me.

Jesus, I don’t know who I am

when I’m not achieving.

Reveal to me who I am.

Lord, I’ve chased holiness without intimacy.

Forgive me and draw me close.

Jesus, I’ve been right…

but I haven’t been alive.

Breathe on me.

Lord, I don’t need You to fix me.

I need You to stay.

Jesus, I don’t know how to stop earning—

but I want to learn how to be held.

Amen.