Special Edition! Emptying My Blackened Heart

It is not Thursday.  I am not writing from Matthew.  But this needs to be said.

Let's begin with a confession.  I have been drifting lately.  The world and worldly things have called and my eyes have turned from the cross.  In other words, I have not been opening my Bible other than for work-related tasks.  My prayer life has been lacking at best.

So, on the way to church this morning, I was wondering what to do.  The first Sunday of the month in our church offers communion.  I wrestled with a decision because I am aware that to take communion unworthily is a big deal.  I could pray for forgiveness and make it right before I took it, but I knew that to ask for forgiveness was going to mean I would really need to make a change.  And feeling comfortable enough in the path I was currently walking, I wasn't sure if I felt like changing.  How's that for honesty, now?

An odd thing happened when I walked into the sanctuary.  The thought came to me (obviously from the Holy Spirit, though I did not hear it as clearly as I usually do) that this was not about me.  Not at all. I could not withhold my communion with the Lord because of me.  I would never be worth enough.  I could never bring Him enough for Him to say, "Okay, that's good."  It was time to let myself go.

I began to sing in worship.  I had to.  Once again, I realized that just because I am unworthy, that does not make Him any LESS worthy.  It just makes the gap bigger. I became embarrassed of the times I felt good enough to come into His presence and worship.  At least now, I saw my imperfection.  And in that state, I saw that He was the same God, loving no more and no less than He always has.

Why do I try anyway to bring Him my filthy rags and think they can be acceptable in light of Christ's sacrifice?  It is like when my kids draw me a picture.  I can't frame it as a Rembrandt, but I can treasure it nonetheless.  Not because of its technical beauty, but because of the sentiment in thinking that my child had me in mind when she drew it.  She gave me her best work to please me.  I think I like that better than perfection.

Similarly, God doesn't take our good works and hang them on the walls of heaven.  He takes them to His heart because we do them please Him.  He loves our worship, because it acknowledges that we are less and He is greater.  That we kind of get it.

He will always be worthy of my worship, whether I come to Him as an ugly rat who chose not to focus all week on Him or the self-righteous blind one who thought I could.

So what did I do?  Did I take communion?  Yes.  I saw how much further away from perfect I was and asked God to clean me and turn me around.  All He needed was a willing heart.