This morning, I prayed, “God, give me a new heart.”
I realized that my heart isn’t entirely life-oriented. I was praying, “God, tahnk you that I still have my health, that I’m still alive”… and I didn’t feel it. I was saying it but not really meaning it. I didn’t really care that I still had my health. I didn’t care that I wasn’t sick. And to way more of an extent than I’m comfortable with, I didn’t care that I wasn’t dead. In some ways, I even wanted to be sicker. I wanted to be flirted with death. I wanted that extreme.
But I, the real me, I’m not okay with that.
I’ve always been a healer. Dedicated so life. So why does death hold this odd fascination for me? The temptation… not good. Not good not good not good.
I need a new heart. God, please, please give me a new heart. One for life.