Lord, here is the ache I woke up with:
If I still don’t grasp the depth of Your Word when I read it, are my ears closed and my eyes covered? Did You not choose me?

On my morning walk I turned this over and over with You. I love teaching; I run to it. Yet I long to be taught by Your Spirit Himself—to hear You directly, not only through others. I ask for guidance, understanding, and discernment… and I keep asking.

After three full readings of Scripture, years of sermons and study, why do I still need help just to read “satisfactorily”? Lord, open my ears to You. My heart feels open—why does my understanding lag behind? Is my asking, my hunger, already fruit of Your Word at work in me?

I carry another layer today. I’m post–New Age—grateful for how it pressed me into deep inner work, clear about how it misplaced worship toward creation instead of Creator. Now I bring that same honesty to You, Jesus. I want every tool redeemed in Your hands.

In Mark 15–16 I watched You walk toward the cross, and in Gethsemane You asked Your closest friends to come near. You, in real human flesh, wanted companionship. That moved me—because church hurt has stunned me lately. I forgive, and I also step back. I’m not quitting Your Church; I’m stepping away from the noise that wounds, holding tight to Your Word, Your presence, Your people who bear Your likeness.

This betrayal poked an old bruise: the girl in me who never felt safe or gathered-in. With Psalm 119 as my lamp, I’m letting You rebuild foundations—new depth, new recovery, new obedience. New wine. New wineskin. Again.

I do know the truth. I know the Truth. Yet I’m asking You to help the little girl in me believe it all the way down. I’m bringing back the best of what formed me—the careful reflection, the practice of noticing—and placing it wholly under Your lordship. No more counterfeits; only the King who knit me together on purpose, for Your glory.

Even in the practical, You keep showing up. Three calls this week—major donor, national campaign connector, Arizona church–tax expert. In the first seconds I felt like the weak link. Then, every time, You made me the steady engine that carried the conversation forward. My feelings trembled; Your faithfulness didn’t.

I’ve known warfare lately. Still, I’ve chosen joy in You and refused to surrender it. I’ve stumbled—hard—but I’ve risen faster and more whole than before. I can see Your fruit. Every day.

So why do I still open the Word and feel small? Why does the inner child still seize the wheel? You said the spirit is willing and the flesh is weak—so strengthen me. Integrate me. Let the willing heart outpace the fearful habits of my subconscious.

Jesus, teach me Yourself.
Tune my ears to Your voice and my eyes to Your light.
Write Your Word on the tender places that still duck and flinch.
Heal the child in me so she trusts the Father who never leaves.
Make me a new wineskin for Your new wine.
Let my hunger be my evidence—I am not unchosen; I am being formed.

I’m starting this day—like almost every day—with gratitude before my feet touch the floor. Today I go deeper. I will not surrender my joy. I will not give up the truth. I am Yours.
God if I cannot say it in the words I seek, please Hear Me through my Heart.
Amen.