I finally made it to Isaiah last night. After deciding to read the entire Bible several years ago and taking several breaks along the way, I have finally gotten to the first book of the prophets. As I was speed-reading through the first chapter last night, racing through each verse so I could finish the chapter and congratulate myself for being such a good little Christian, I hit verse 13.
And it smacked me right in the face, stinging my cheek and bringing tears to my eyes.
Stop bringing meaningless offerings, He said.
Stop bringing meaningless offerings, Ryan.
He doesn't want my empty prayers. He doesn't need me to speed through His Word without comprehending it. He doesn't care that my body is in a pew if my mind is somewhere else. He isn't impressed when I color inside the lines just because I should.
There's nothing I can hold up in my hands to make Him proud.
He just wants me.
He wants my hands lifted high and completely empty.
Because anything else is meaningless.