So there I was, having a rough night and lamenting to my friend, asking, “When is God going to send me someone??” Boohoo… Rather than further exhaust my poor friend with my pitiful life-woos, I decided to go pray about it. I am so glad I did.
After about thirty minutes of pleading my case to God, I admitted to Him that I was also jealous of how other people can pray the way I only wish I could. Then I remembered a picture someone posted today that said, “No shortcuts exist. The person who would know God must give time to Him.”
Suddenly, it hit me like a ton of bricks: Why would God bless someone whom He doesn’t even know? Sure, He knows of me. I go to church every service and sing in the choir. My kids go to the church school, and I pay tithes. I go to prayer meetings and church workdays. But does He know me?
I love my Fitbit. Every hour it vibrates to let me know that I need to get up and move. When I first got it a little over a year ago, I would actually get up and walk around until I got my 250 steps in for that hour. Over time though, I would ignore the vibration periodically.
I just checked the app to see when’s the last time I got all my hourly steps in during the day. Y’all, it was February of last year! What happened?
Imagine you’re lying in bed next to your spouse, eagerly waiting for them to wake up. You gaze upon them quietly with love and admiration until finally they open their eyes. But the first thing they do is grab their phone and check for missed messages or emails. They don’t even bother to say good morning to you.
*This post is long, but it’s FIRE! If you don’t have time to read it in its entirety, please read the italicized phrases and the end sections. You will be blessed!*
I’ve been coming to
church for eight years now, and although I’m always faithful to come to
services, I have always struggled with the daily walk. Lately, I’ve really been
trying to be more consistent with daily prayer and Bible reading every single
morning before I check my phone.
I think I have finally figured out what my problem is: I’m addicted to self-improvement.
I don’t know when it
first started, but I think it was probably about seven years ago after I had my
fourth child. I hardly liked anything about myself. I didn’t like my body, I
didn’t feel like I was a good enough mom or wife, I yelled too much, etc.
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