I need to die.
I'm talking murder, not suicide. The I in me needs to die and die and die again, until finally Christ has my heart to Himself.
I've seen things in myself that I never realized before. I've seen that I've been blind in certain ways towards other people. And in that blindness came judgement, and a hardening of my heart. It's been there all this time. All this time and I never realized it.
I've seen that my passion and excitement has not been - completely - a good thing. By allowing it too much reign in my life, I've plowed through many occasions where humility and meekness was an absolute necessity.
I've seen, physically seen, warriors sitting in our church pews. And they weren't the least bit angelic. They were simple people, struggling with problems, and cares. Some were overweight, some sleepy, some distracted, and some young enough to be overlooked as young David once was, before he murdered a giant. But they were warriors all the same. Dangerous when necessary but in ways that are too often overlooked. Overlooked. Not seen. Blind to.
By failing to rule over my passion and excitement for movement, I allowed it to blind my eyes and deafen my ears to the sensitive and very quiet things God may have whispered.
I wonder now, if this piercing sadness is simply Gods method of breaking through to quiet me.
I feel sickened at what I've seen in me. I've done harm. And I did it all in a blaze of passion in His name.
I didn't love.