I Want It To Be You

A couple of weeks ago I was preparing to preach at a church down in Columbia. It was going to be my first time there. And I was so concerned with what they were going to think of me. [It’s so embarrassing to confess this to you guys.] I was about an hour and a half early, so I stopped a couple of blocks before the church to read over my notes again. I started reading. But for some reason I quickly – without thinking – put the notes down and started to pray.

Right there on Blanding Street I had encounter with the Lord.

The following is what I later wrote down about my experience …

“For years, I’ve prayed before preaching:

‘O God, please let it be good.’

And I think that’s a good prayer to pray.

— ‘good‘ in that lost people might be found.

— ‘good‘ in that found people might grow.

— ‘good‘ in that God might get glory from using even me.

I wish I could say my motives in praying that prayer have always been pure.

But I cannot.

Sometimes, well, ok, most all the times, I wanted people to also think I was good.

And that’s not good.

All of this leads to the prayer I prayed that day on Blanding Street.

It was an hour or so before I was to preach when words came out of my mouth I had never prayed before.

Words I had not thought of before.

Words I had never heard anyone else pray.

“God, I don’t want it to be ‘good,’ I want it to be You.”

I repeated the phrase.

“God, I don’t want it to be ‘good,’ I want it to be You.”

It was if God had put those words in my mouth.

They were sweet and needed to be savored.

So, I repeated them again.

“God, I don’t want it to be ‘good,’ I want it to be You.”

________

Now, sure, I always want what I share when preaching to be true and right and inspirational and all of that. Absolutely.

Wanting it to be ‘good’ — however — so that I might be thought of as ‘good’ is prideful and sinful and is a burden much too heavy to try and carry.

I know, because I’ve been lugging it around for years and years.

But the moment I whispered that prayer something happened.

It was as if I had exhaled.

I could breathe.

A weight had been lifted.

A chain had been loosened.

I sensed God’s peace.

There was joy.

There was freedom.

And while my desire to be thought of as ‘good’ continues to die a slow death — I know a prayer I’m going to continue praying:

“God, I don’t want it to be ‘good,’ I want it to be You.”