I Felt Human Today

Lord, I felt human, today. Not the ditzy, clumsy sort, but the flawed, unobservant, selfish sort. I felt unable to connect in ways I wanted to. I felt oblivious to things I shouldn't have been oblivious to. I felt shallow and I hate that.

Lord, I felt human, today. This world of over-stimuli and my lack of sleep confronted me at every turn. It made me feel like I'll never live up to who I want to be. I've learned a lot lately. Often that encourages me. By default learning pushes you somewhere new. More often, though, it makes me feel further discouraged. I want to be an effectual doer versus a forgetful hearer, but the harder I try the more often I fail.

Lord, I felt human, today. When my tears pool on the rim of my eyelids and then slip down my face, I wish they'd take my failures with them. I want to go through my days supporting, listening, and loving on people. Instead, I feel like I either ignore what I can do or simply don't notice what I can do. I'm not sure which is worse. I want to care deeply and boldly for others, but usually I feel as if I'm tiptoeing around people so as not to "make them feel uncomfortable."

Lord, I felt human, today. I was anxious. I was fearful. I wanted to hide in my room, free from controversy, free from unintentionally hurting someone, free from betrayal. I wanted to ignore the fact that you call people to engage with each others' hearts. Why are we so afraid of fellowship?

Lord, I felt human, today. I wanted to take a nap and pretend my world didn't exist. I wanted to reach out, to be vulnerable, to address the hard issues, but sometime the bite that follows hurts. I didn't want that.

Lord, I felt human, today. Can you show me, again, how that can be a strength? The world calls it a handicap, but you call it an opportunity. An opportunity to come to you. An opportunity for humility. An opportunity to give you praise. Sometimes I see how that works. Today, I don't. Can you show me?