Fill me, then, with Your presence. Immerse me in Yourself. You call Yourself "living water" - what does that make me? A fish, surrounded by Your presence as the framework of my world? A sponge, soaking You up and releasing You onto anything against which I'm pushed? A fish doesn't feel wet, but take it out of the water and it will throw a fit. A sponge will only soak up so much water before being sated, but it can be bone dry and brittle.
I'm so easily distracted, Father. I try to fill Your place with other things - things that, even as I stuff them into the time I spend with You - feel inferior. They don't satisfy my soul, but they do give me pleasure. My spirit cries out to You; I feel the lack of Your presence; I sense the difference between happiness and joy. Still, I push to be allowed to make my own way - how foolish! I want to drag You along my path instead of holding Your hand and walking along the "unfamiliar paths" You want me to travel. I want Your love and approval; I just don't don't want to do what You say.
God, You created me with this love of people. Don't let me put them in Your place - every love made into a god becomes a demon, destroys itself. It's only when I love You first and all others deeply and through You that I can keep the people I love. I love them, God. I love them very much. Help me love You more. Help me listen AND obey - not just hear and then forget. Help me want what You want.
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