Lord, I don’t want to betray you anymore. I am tired of sin’s tired tricks.
Its skin looks sweet and tastes sweet, only to peel away and reveal rotting, bitter flesh.
I think of Judas Iscariot. He was part of the full story of your life.
How can I ridicule him? Have I not also betrayed you, Lord?
Abandoned you? Turned my back on you? Been ashamed of being with you?
Questioned your teachings? Given you no choice but to withhold your grace from me?
Deformed myself so much that I would only feel your love as a painful, burning fire?
Like Judas, all the characters in the Bible teach us lessons.
Like a mirror, their human nature looks back into the apple of my eye.
I must reflect upon them and ask myself, “Am I a better person today than yesterday?”
If not, then I have my focus for today.
If examination of conscience finds no fault, then I am most certainly sitting upon the dull log of pride.
It’s too easy to call out the fleck in my brother’s eye.
It’s too easy to overlook the log in my wandering eye.
I foolishly sit upon the log of pride while I ridicule others! I’m as dense as the log.
Almighty God, grant me the humility to invite you inside.
So that, together, we can remove this log that blinds me.
So that, together, we can hollow out this log that weighs me down from willing your will,
So that, together, we can use this log as a receptacle to gather all the other sinful garbage in my heavy, dirty soul.
So that, together, we can burn this receptacle of chaff that has passed through the chinks in my handmade heart,
with the consuming fire of your mercy, that can burn away even the most heinous sins,
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.