Empty My Hands

Oh, how quickly I've forgotten.
Oh, how I've grown so restless and unsatisfied.
How often have I made it to the alter, ready to surrender my entire life and laid it down before you?
Yet all too rashly, snatching my favorite parts back because I love the feel of their touch to my thirsting heart and I fear I will never see them again. I love the joy they bring to my soul, the relief they bring to my life. And I take them back once again, so stealthily that I barely realize I've done it.
You look at my hands, overflowing with the gifts You've given to me, the gifts I've hoarded selfishly, the gifts I've forgotten to share and entrust back to the Giver. The things I hold all too tightly overflow and God, I've given you no room to hold my hand or my heart. You shake your head whispering "You've done it again, my precious child..." And like Hosea, you buy back your unfaithful bride you "allure me and bring me into the wilderness, you speak tenderly to me. You will remove the names of the [idols] from my mouth."
In love and utter faithfulness you allure me to you with the dissatisfaction of the meaninglessness of the daily, you put the unquenchable thirst in my soul, that can only be satisfied by You. I am the woman at the well, searching for meaning and acceptance and you tell me that You are the only Water that can satisfy, my idols will never suffice. The items I've built alters for, the people I've placed on pedestals, were blessings given from You. But I've loved them into idols, I've worshiped their existence in my life instead of the Savior who has given.
If only I would let go of the things I hold so dear, you could hold my hand and use these gifts to lead my back to your glory. My hands are full and it has emptied my heart. So, Lord, open my hands because I hold so tight, let me "taste and see that you are good." Because once I've tasted, I'm sure my hunger will be set ablaze again. I will be always searching, always wanting more of you. Let me have gratitude for the things you've done. Let me not be like the 9 lepers you healed, who turned their face without a simple 'thank you.' Let me be the remaining leper, who turned to praise you at my healing, and received an even deeper healing: salvation. Lord, I don't want to be just healed, I want to be saved. Lord, I don't want be be just saved, I want to be sanctified.
In gratitude, I remember what you have done, I thank for what you have given. In gratitude, I'm awed by the many times you've bought me back, the many times you've had to quench my spiritually dehydrated soul because again I've run, again I've searched for meaning in other things, again I've taken back my life.  In gratitude, I am the 10th leper who turned, knowing what you've done for me, asking for more than just healing, asking for You for forever. In gratitude, I will ask for more of You. Only You can satisfy.
The words of Tenth Avenue North could not have captured it better: "Oh, empty my hands, fill up my heart. Capture my mind with you."
Empty my hands.