Set Me Aflame

I was about to eat supper. Dishing up carelessly, living in the day. My food filled the plate and I took my first bite.

Oh yeah. I should pray. Forgot about that.

And with anything but depth, I started to mutter words in my head. What an obligation. What a drag. A bore. A habit that I need to develop. A thing I should do.
To be good.

An airy thought in my head, an itch to be scratched. My emotions blank. My soul numb. Oh yeah. Praying. Let's add that in real fast, like a dash of salt in a recipe.

Then

whoosh

I was shaken awake.

-What am I doing? Oh Lord, what am I doing?
And my heart in the past days? Detached. Empty. Distant. And. . . lost.

And, more than that, I hadn't even realized. 
I hadn't even noticed my state. 

Oh the realizations crashing in upon me, like beating waves, tearing winds,
and my eyelids were opened up like a chest so that I might
see.

And I saw that I was acting just like this was any old religion. An occasional thing in my life to be visited. A meager part of me. A fraction, a slice, not an
all-consuming  
fire,
a blaze transforming every crevice, awakening the deepest love and strongest passion from my depths. 

God, save me from
this
complacency.

Make it my enemy. My dreaded fear. That I may be so on edge, never to stop fighting it, searching for its presence - that if I find a
small hint 
of it, I would leap to snuff it out. May my sword be drawn, senses heightened, mind aflame with the Spirit to never forget.

I want true prayer. Intercession. Communion. A perpetual conversation, a dance of words and love and pouring out. I want this with you, God. I want a remembering heart, an unconformed mind. I don't want to settle. Don't want to sit still. Don't want to lose sight. Don't want to live on my own. Don't want to be like any other person. Don't want to act like you're just another god. Don't want to put you on my mental checklist. Don't want to change our marriage into religion, burden, a pot on the back burner of the stove. You aren't restraint. You are promise. Your grace isn't a perk. It's a pool - that's necessary for me to be saturated in.

Consume me.

Consume me. 

I can't stand my position, my current state. It's not okay. It's muck. And pick me up and 
move me far from here. 
Because I do not want to linger in this complacency, resistance, and lack of 
surrender. 


I need your winds of testing, piercing convictions, life and presence and voice. I need your touch to draw me out of this stupor, out of my death. Raise me from the dead. I need you.