In the scriptures there’s descriptions of mansions and paradise and everything wonderful in Heaven. To those who endure to the end, there’s promises of power, principalities, scepters of righteousness, all heights and depths, sharing all that the Father has, and on and on.
I don’t want power. I don’t want authority. I don’t want a mansion. I care nothing for possessions or inheritances. I don’t want Celestial real estate, or any kind of throne, or a halo, or (Heaven forbid!) multiple spouses — I barely do enough to demonstrate sufficiently my adoration and honor of the spouse I already have.
Let others have paradise, have mansions, have honor, have principalities and powers, all heights and depths, whatever — good for them. If their faith and works merit such rewards, by all means let them have them. However, if it means even slightly being that much farther away from You, or from accomplishing Your work, then I want none of it. None. Give whatever Celestial real estate due me to someone else. Let them be responsible over some section of Your endless kingdom.
I don’t want anything. I just want to be with You in doing Your work. Let me accompany You in taking care of whatever needs to be done, now or eternally — I am here, send me.
Give me a cot — no, a blanket — no, a patch of ground on which to lay my head after a long day of labor. I don’t need elaborate robes, I don’t want wings of power or a trumpet, I don’t want the least bit of glory for myself — I only want to testify of You.
Give me rags and a worn out set of Your words given to the prophets. Let Your Holy Spirit guide me when I open my mouth. If the people reject, let me go hungry and athirst. Let me be mocked and beaten and tortured for Your name’s sake, eternally. I will not accuse them. I won’t rest, not until it is all over and You declare that the work of this round of creation is done.
Give me the job nobody wants to do, the job so unpleasant that everyone is loathe to volunteer for it — I am here, send me. Thrust me down to the nastiest, sickest depths of Hell that I might perchance aid a miserable soul there in moving forward in their penitence. If I must scour the sewers of eternity to find and assist the worst who are ready to move forward, I shall do so without complaint.
Dear Lord, let me be like unto the Roman centurion who asked You for a blessing in behalf of his servant, and then immediately believed You that his servant was healed — he insisted not to trouble You any further, for he had faith in Your word that it would be done. I’d much rather be this man than like Peter, who spent every day with You, who blessed, healed, and performed miracles with You, who walked on water with You, and then who was so distraught and perplexed during Your arrest that, under the anxiety of the moment, he denied You three times.
I know that, with You, nothing is impossible. I know that turning water into wine is a small thing. I know that feeding thousands with bread and fish out of nowhere is a small thing. I know that Moses hitting a rock and a fountain of fresh water flowing out is a small thing. I know that Elijah calling forth a pillar of fire (probably a meteorite) from Heaven to decimate an altar drenched in water is a very small thing. I know that dividing seas, moving mountains, and turning massive rivers off course are all very small, paltry, simple things. I know that we humans haven’t even begun to witness a minuscule fraction of Your powers, and yet we overlook and take for granted the tremendous miracles we witness, and are a part of, every single day.
My Lord, I desire nothing more than to behold Your face. And yet, I know that, as in Your words to Thomas, more blessed are those who exercise faith without seeing. I know You live, Lord. I know You see all, and are omnipresent in all of mankind’s actions and choices. If I am more blessed in not seeing Your face while simultaneously (like the centurion) exercise exceeding faith in doing whatever the Holy Spirit advises me to do, then please, withhold Your face from me no matter the extended anguish it causes me. Let my heart pine to be in Your presence, yet continually be denied. I know that for salvation I must behold Your face, yet postpone that until the latest possible moment that my faith may be tried and stretched. Let my soul be tortured until then, it matters not: I shall look forward to the day I see You.
Forgive my weaknesses, my failings, my follies. Forgive my lapses of temper and judgment.
“I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, pride ruled my will. Remember not past years!”
“Turn me not away, receive me though unworthy. Hear Thou my cry! Behold, Lord, my distress! I pray Thee, grant me pardon, and remember not my sins!”
“Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day. Earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away.
Change and decay in all around I see. O Thou who changest not, abide with me.”
“The works of God continue, and worlds and lives abound. Improvement and progression
have one eternal round. There is no end to glory; There is no end to love; There is no end to being; There is no death above.”
My Savior, I am here. Send me. No task shall be too hopeless. No suffering shall be too great. If I am rejected and forgotten by all, it matters not. I am Thy servant. You remember me.