Dearest Jesus,
I come before You not as one worthy, but as one in need.
Broken. Weary. Desperate. Hungry for mercy that only You can give.
I have limped through too many days with wounds no one else sees
with burdens too heavy for my back, too complex for my words,
but not too hidden for Your heart.
You see me.
You see all of me.
Not just the sin but the sorrow behind it.
Not just the choices but the chains I cannot break.
And still, You speak
“Take heart, child, your sins are forgiven.” (Matt. 9:2)
Oh Jesus, I crave that freedom
to live unshackled by shame,
to breathe in grace and breathe out peace,
to know in the marrow of my soul
that I am not abandoned or condemned,
but completely, eternally, irrevocably loved.
Forgive me, Lord
for the times I doubted You could forgive me again.
For the moments I ran from grace and built walls of pride around my pain.
Tear down those walls.
Flood the darkest places with Your healing light.
When You healed the paralytic,
You didn’t wait for him to stand up.
You gave strength before he could even ask.
Jesus, that’s me
I cannot rise without You.
So lift me.
Touch my soul where it lies limp and powerless.
Let Your grace restore what fear has withered.
You called Matthew a tax collector, an outsider,
a man no one trusted, a man everyone avoided.
And You said two words Follow Me.
And everything changed.
You didn’t wait for him to get it all right.
You met him right in his mess.
Lord, meet me in mine.
Call me out of the shadows I’ve grown used to,
out of the labels others gave me or I gave myself.
Call me into purpose. Into freedom. Into a life that reflects Your mercy.
You sat with sinners.
You feasted with the forgotten.
You weren’t afraid of the mess they were the very ones You came to save.
Oh Jesus, help me stop trying to earn what You freely give.
Make me more like You merciful, open hearted, bold in love.
You looked on the crowds, harassed and helpless,
and Your heart broke with compassion (Matt. 9:36).
You saw more than problems you saw sheep without a shepherd.
That’s how You see us.
That’s how You see me.
The harvest is still plentiful,
but my heart is so slow.
So hesitant.
So afraid of the weight of obedience.
But Lord, make me willing.
Break me open if You must,
but send me.
Make me a laborer in Your fields
a bearer of hope in broken homes,
a voice of peace in anxious crowds,
a hand that heals, not wounds.
You gave authority to Your followers
to drive out darkness and disease
and still, You give it.
Not because we’re strong,
but because You are.
So I surrender, Jesus.
Surrender my weakness,
my resistance,
my hesitations and my timelines.
Let Your compassion move through me
not as a trickle, but a flood.
Make me bold with mercy.
Gentle with truth.
Faithful with love.
Use my voice to comfort,
my hands to serve,
my life to glorify You.
Thank You for seeing me.
Thank You for calling me.
Thank You for never growing tired of healing me.
Now let me follow
not from a distance,
not with a backup plan,
but with all I am.
In Your mighty and merciful name,
Jesus.
Amen.