The d word

It's been weeks. Maybe even a month.

Gosh, has it been that long?

And I know I am not supposed to say it, much less write it. In (digital) ink. Where it is permanent. Where others can see it. And know.

Know of my disinterest.

That seemingly unassuming "d" word. The one which shows up on occasion. Like an unwelcome house guest. The one that quietly knocks on the door of my heart and lets itself in when I'm not paying attention. Because, you see, I have left the door unlocked. Unprotected. Unguarded.

Oh sure, I could blame it on my busyness. I could pretend that I didn't notice it once it made its way in. But I did.

I noticed it all. The dismissed thoughts of praying instead of talking. The decision to fill my time with anything but that which would truly satisfy. The constant swatting back of any sort of conviction to pause and contemplate the purpose of my days. I noticed every step of the way that disinterest swayed my decisions and words and dreams and steps. I noticed.

And I have told myself to simply commit myself to what I know to be true. Whether it is what I desire at the moment or not.

And I have come up short. I just have.

I have noticed within myself a shortage of discipline. Of perseverance. Of the stuff that makes up those that are noteworthy. Honorable in the sight of the Lord. The "good" Christ-followers. Whatever that means.

And it is embarrassing. And I hate to type it. To admit that after all these years and all my experiences, that I still find myself sitting in this moment. Filled with disinterest.

But there is a part of me which is committed to documenting this time. To expose my heart in all its messy glory. To be honest enough to evaluate where I fall short.

And today I am praying. Begging rather. For renewed strength to seek what is best. Whether I feel it or not.

It is a cry for help. To the only One who can. A cry for the strength I do not contain of myself to make this life count. To live with a purpose. To abolish my disinterest and kindle this seemingly extinguished flame.

And I know that He is faithful to hear me. Whether my heart looks a little crusty and hardened or renewed and willing. He hears me.