Lord Jesus,
You walked into the temple not to admire the structures,
but to expose the hidden rot beneath the surface.
You stripped away the pretense,
called out the show,
and mourned over hearts that had hardened behind religion.
You revealed the masks we wear
the pride dressed up as holiness,
the performance mistaken for purity,
the rules that choke out mercy.
And so, I come before You unmasked, undone.
No more pretending.
No more polishing what’s outside while hiding what’s inside.
Lord, I confess. I have spoken truth but withheld love.
I have known what is right, yet failed to do it.
I have judged others harshly,
while excusing the same sins in myself.
I have longed to be seen as good
more than I’ve longed to be truly transformed.
Forgive me.
Forgive the times I placed burdens on others
while refusing to carry them myself.
Forgive the ways I have elevated my voice over Your heart,
my opinion over Your Word,
my platform over Your presence.
You warned of blind guides,
straining out gnats while swallowing camels
obsessing over details and neglecting justice, mercy, and faithfulness.
Oh Jesus, don’t let me live a faith of shadows.
Open my eyes to the weightier matters.
Let me care more about love than labels,
more about people than performance,
more about inward holiness than outward applause.
You spoke not only to rebuke, but to restore.
You longed to gather Jerusalem like a mother hen gathers her chicks
tender, fierce, full of longing.
That’s how You see us.
That’s how You see me.
And still, we run.
Still, I resist.
Still, I try to prove myself when You’ve already offered grace.
So I stop running.
I let You gather me in.
I let Your voice cut through the noise of pride,
through the fear of exposure,
and I say
Have Your way in me.
Create in me a clean heart, O God.
Not just clean enough to look the part,
but clean enough to love well.
Clean enough to weep with those who weep.
Clean enough to rejoice in another’s success.
Clean enough to lay down my life for the sake of the Gospel.
Help me lead, not from a throne,
but from my knees.
Help me teach, not from pride,
but from brokenness.
Let my faith be lived from the inside out
not loud, but true.
Not flashy, but fruitful.
Not self centered, but Spirit filled.
When I see injustice, give me courage to speak
not with anger that wounds,
but with truth that liberates.
And when I see brokenness in others,
let me be a carrier of Your mercy,
not a dispenser of shame.
Lord Jesus, search me again.
Turn over every table of self righteousness in my heart.
Purify my motives.
Refine my desires.
Let everything false fall away,
until only You remain.
Make me the kind of disciple who bears the weight of grace well
not to crush others beneath it,
but to lift them toward Your love.
In Your holy, convicting, and restoring name
Jesus, the one who sees the heart.
Amen.