In the morning, I feel humble.
I mean - I'm sure I'm not completely humble ever - but I feel small, in the best ways.
I'm an early riser with a strict routine. Feet on floor, go to potty, pour coffee in the mug that I've left out for myself from the night before. Walk quietly to the couch and grab Bible + journals that I've also left out for myself. I've learned that if I don't leave a pen out too - it's over. For some reason, finding a mug (amongst the 30 that are always in my cabinet) and a pen are two tasks that I just can't possibly complete before six a.m.
Anyhow, I'm almost as routine in how I approach the Lord in the mornings. There is always reading and reflecting, usually on how big and good He is. There is always prayer and some figurative and literal holding my hands up. "This is all I have. It's not much. I need you. I need your help. I love you."
And then the day happens.
My afternoon prayer routine is a whole different story. I'm done working by 3pm and I'm usually a little tired, stretched, and overwhelmed. As I acclimate back to mom-world and keeper-of-the-home-world, I'm a little bit of a mess. There are a few random toys on the floor, there are a few random tasks till floating around in my head work, and by that hour - there are often a few burdens dragging behind my heart. I saw something online that frustrated me, maybe I feel confused or upset about a particular relationship. I have a similar routine in the afternoon that involves coffee and prayer, but my words are so different.
Lord - what are we going to do about _______?
Father, I'm so frustrated with ____________.
I don't feel seen or heard or appreciated by _____________.
In the morning, I know who's I am. I know who He is.
In the afternoon, I know who is frustrating me and who I wish I could be.
It hurts my heart and frees me up all at once to admit - I think if you asked the people who really, really, really know me, they'd agree with this. One of the biggest mountains of sin in my life that the Lord is slowly eroding with His presence and power is my pride. If I could say magic words and clap three times and have it gone, I'd do it in a second. If I could spend my days praying morning-ish prayers, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I'm not sure what happens in the span of those hours from five a.m. to five p.m. except that I take my eyes of the Lord and put them on me. And the truth is - by ten p.m., I am so fed up with my own self and my own pride, I just want to climb in bed and so I can soak up the fresh mercies of the next morning.
For me - I've found one proven method to killing sin: Pray for eyes to see, confess to the Lord, confess to others, sin again, accept the Gospel and God's grace, repeat. And that's the process I'm very much in the thick of with this mountain of pride. The first three steps are jumbled up for me right now, my eyes opening and my ears hearing the intense pride that slips out of my mouth and swirls in my brain. My hands turning upward, showing Jesus, "Ick. I know this is gross. But this is what I'm working with and I know it's not too much for you." Letting the people who walk with me speak truth and correction, and following their lead in their humility.
I want to pray more morning prayers in the afternoon and evening.
I want to be overwhelmed by the Lord and not overwhelmed by my own (mistaken) goodness.
I want humility for humility's sake, and not just my because pride is so gross.
I want to grow here.
I want humility in the thick of it.
I want more Jesus.