continual surrender.

I'm a sucker for sappy human interest stories showcasing the largess of the human spirit. I cry like an idiot through the opening credits of Extreme Home Makeover. I absolutely hands-down love syrupy power ballads about trying, and trying again ("The Climb", anyone?).

Unfortunately, none of these things make me a better Christian. And while I'm positive that the Lord enjoys the move-that-bus moment as much as I do--I'm also fairly certain that my shouting along with the crowd is not exactly the "works" He's looking for.

This post isn't about my slow descent into cat-lady behavior, though. It's about me, and the Lord. And how even though I want the right things (most of the time), my faith isn't really right. Right now, anyway.

If I were reading this as the me I used to be, I'd ask what the "right faith" entails, and decry the "hypocrisy of the people" who would have led an impressionable me to believe there was such a thing. Fortunately, I'm not reading this as that other me.

I'm writing this as a me who believes in a God so invested in relationship with me that He wants me to love Him, and to show it. That showing it is something else, no?

If I can be honest (and it's my blog, so I think I can), I'm afraid that I've started to want the things of Christ, without doing the things of Christ. Here, I'm not talking about going to church, or tithing, or bringing cookies to my neighbor. I'm talking about the really hard stuff. Like turning away from that voice that asks, "Do your prayers really matter?" Like refusing to go there with someone. And like keeping the hope.

I'm losing a battle with my mind. I'm afraid that the stakes are for my heart.

It used to be that I didn't understand the power of God. So all of this didn't matter. I still don't understand His power, but I know He's got some. And all of this matters a great, great deal.

I've surrendered many times. I think I must again.