And Still, You Come

Jesus, my Lord and my God,

I come before You with a heart that knows its own disorder. For many years – through the long middle stretch of life – I failed to guard my senses as I should have. And it took only a handful of decisions to cast me far off the path I’d originally promised You. I allowed misplaced desire to wander where it did not belong, sometimes, strangely enough, thinking I was doing the right thing. I also carried anger too easily – interior resentments that led to impatience with those I loved most, sharp daggers for words – forgetting how slow You are to wrath and how patient You have been with me.

Over time all of these small permissions became habits that dulled my love for You. I did not always know how to find my way back, and at times I did not even know that I was still lost. I would think I had somehow “arrived” in Your good graces again or “figured it out,” only to be assailed by seven more demons more powerful and more sinister than the first. 

And yet You will still come on Thursday.

You choose silence over accusation, humility over force, a manger as a throne. You enter the world demanding purity, yes, but offering it first – not crushing sinners, but healing them. You wait in hiddenness while I rush, You obey while I resist, You love while I delay repentance and tell myself tomorrow will suffice.

Lord Jesus, let Your coming birth cleanse what is unclean in me and soften what has grown hard. I do not ask this grace apart from truth. I confess my sins to You as You have commanded, placing them openly before You in the sacrament of mercy, knowing that healing only flows where sin is named and surrendered rightly. Teach me restraint where I have been indulgent, meekness where I have been angry, and vigilance where I have been careless. Help me to stay awake with Mary and Joseph through the night of waiting for You, with Peter, James, and John as they journey with You into the heart of Gethsemane and darkness. I offer You my weakness without disguise. I embrace the judgment of others, for I know Yours will be far worse if I one day meet You unprepared.

And as I beg this mercy for myself, I place before You those You have entrusted to me. Grant a holy life and a happy death to my wife, to my father, to my brothers and sisters, to their spouses and children. Watch over every student, every teacher, and every friend You have placed along my path. Heal what is wounded in them, guard what is innocent, correct what has gone astray, and draw each one safely into Your Sacred Heart.

I also bring before You those I have led into sin, and those who have wronged me. You commanded me to love my enemies, Lord – so I give them to You now. Grant them repentance, peace, and salvation. 

Take my disordered loves and unruled passions into Your Sacred Heart. In return, grant me the grace to live chastely, to suffer patiently, and to die well – repentant, reconciled, and trusting entirely in You.

Come, Lord Jesus, my Infant King. Save me this Christmas, and every day thereafter.