I struggle with vanity. You may not see it, but you will just have to believe me. I think I am great, nice looking, fun, and full of life. Those are gifts from God to whatever extent they are true, but I love myself more than him. I love the gifts more than the giver. And the giver is sometimes the taker and I would like to think that I’d love him still.
And I am quite sure that I would, and it wouldn’t have anything to do with my devotion to him, but rather his devotion to me.
I find satisfaction in myself, when that doesn’t work I turn to him. But what about when it does work? I don’t want it to work. I want to choose him over myself anyway.
What is this conceit? I am glory-empty, but he has dwelt in me and lifted me high. Please see him. Ignore the girl in front of the mirror enjoying her own appearance, the part of me that hasn’t looked in to they eyes of its savior just yet. She’ll see. I believe. Jesus rules and I am allied with him as we fight together to stake his claim over my soul completely.
Jesus, kill the parts of me that hold their idols above you. There’s only room for one king, one love, in my heart. Jesus, you are my love.