The Pharisee in Me

It's easy naming pride when it's standing over there. Harder when it kneels with me and calls itself a prayer. I know the words of mercy; I can make the language fit. But do I move toward the hurt, or just explain all of it? I want the truth to find them; do I let it search me too? Or hold it like a weapon till it turns and cuts me through? I can hate the heavy burdens and still tie another knot. I can ask for grace in weakness, then forget the grace I got. The title isn't needed for a heart to build a throne. I can crown myself the judge and call the verdict Yours alone. Lord, don't let being wounded make me certain I am right. Bring the places I won't question to the searching of Your light. Their wrong is still their wrong. My wounds are still real. But I won't hide behind them When You show me what must heal. There's a Pharisee in me, Keeping score beside the altar. Asking You to change the world While I guard what needs to change. Lord, reach beneath my reasons. Find the pride I cannot see. Let the mercy I keep asking for Become the way I treat the weak. Do I love the one who's falling, or the feeling that I'm strong? Will I stay and help them rise when helping takes too long? Do I listen for their sorrow, or prepare what I will say? Do I use their slow repentance to excuse my own delay? I can polish up the outside, leave the hidden room alone. I can speak about surrender with my fingers locked on stone. I can give the right correction with the wrongness in my tone. I can win the whole discussion, leave a hurting soul alone. Lord, interrupt the hunger for the final word and praise. Let me kneel without an audience and mean the words I pray. I don't need another person underneath my feet to stand. Teach me how to bear a burden with these self-protecting hands. You see the hurt I carry. You see the hurt I cause. You don't confuse the two, And You don't turn away. I can tell the truth about them And confess the truth in me. Keep my boundaries rooted in wisdom. Keep my heart within Your reach. Search ME! When blame becomes my hiding place. Break PRIDE! Before it wears the face of faith. These hands— Let them open. This heart— Let it turn. There's a Pharisee in ME, And I cannot make him holy. I can dress him up in Scripture; You can bring him to his knees. Lord, reach beneath my reasons. Find the pride I cannot see. Let the mercy I keep asking for Become the way I treat the weak. When another shoulder buckles, Let me help them bear the weight.