I woke at 1am, finally succumbing to the physical sickness I presumed to have avoided just days earlier. Quivering and pale, I caught a glimpse of my image at my most fragile, and remembered the last time I vomited. Three years ago I experienced a similar physical / spiritual purging on the day I decided to clean up my impure sexual thoughts.
While I'm pleased that my pain is my burden alone, I wonder if solitude is also what my pride requires. Wrenching over a toilet seat has occurred in my most private and exposed moments, as if I am given no choice but to acknowledge my own condition.
I pray that grace allows my ears to hear in this place. I plead that God would renew my heart towards His purposes. I ask to be left stripped, but purged of wickedness. I need His touch.
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