I confess that I turn to your word to find ammunition rather than turning to your word to find you. I confess that I see the world's need for you more than I see my own. I confess that I have lips that desire to speak of you more than a heart that desires to draw near to you. I confess that I have chosen every trinket this world can offer over an eternity of riches that you would lavish upon me.
Help this believer's unbelief. Drive from me my double-minded nature. Give me grace and may I never yearn for fool's gold again.
My Father, in the smallest details of your creation you are amazing. Even as crickets chirp at the stars, you demonstrate the art of your creation. Somewhere in eternity, you gazed at creation like an artist at a blank canvas. You said, "I will create, and it will be good." And in the million details you orchestrated, you decided crickets would fill the lonely night to keep us company. And you said, "This too is good."