Work on My Mind, Prune My Heart A friendship letter to God from the messier middle (A soft confession and a slow becoming)

“I may not be perfect… but I still belong to You.

And You are patient with my becoming.”

Dear Abba,

I thought my mind was clean.

I thought I didn’t have the ability to envy,

to be jealous,

to be proud.

But then

I felt something.

A quiet sting in my heart when I saw a friend doing better.

I wasn’t sure what it was, until I heard that voice in my head:

“Why wasn’t it me instead?”

And just like that, the mirror cracked.

I saw myself not as I wanted to be,

but as I am.

Now I’m scared.

Because I thought being Your child meant I’d outgrown these things.

That I’d be immune to sin.

That I was safe from ugly feelings.

But now I know I’m not.

So here I am, God

not hiding, not pretending.

Just asking:

Work on my mind.

Untangle the thoughts I’ve dressed up in nice words.

Strip away the lies I tell myself that I’m better, holier, above.

And prune my heart.

Cut off the need to be first.

Remove the parts that crave attention.

Kill the root of that quiet competition I pretend not to feel.

I want to love purely.

I want to celebrate others without secretly comparing.

I want to be Yours, not just in word, but in mind and motive.

I may not be perfect

but I still belong to You.

And You are patient with my becoming.

I’ve been carrying this quiet shame,

wondering if You’re disappointed in me for feeling what I felt.

But I also know You already saw it before I admitted it,

before I even recognized it myself.

So maybe this is where real healing begins.

Not in pretending to be above it,

but in bringing it to You as it is

raw, unfiltered, not yet resolved.

Maybe this is the pruning I prayed for

not just cutting what’s obvious,

but gently exposing what hides beneath the surface.

The part of me that wants to be celebrated.

The part that struggles when it’s someone else’s turn.

The part that still believes being “chosen” means being the only one.

God, teach me that Your table is not scarce.

That there’s room for all of us to bloom

and no one else’s light dims mine.

I want to rejoice without resistance.

To clap with both hands, not one.

To mean it when I say, “I’m happy for them,”

because I trust that You haven’t forgotten me.

This heart of mine, prune it gently, but prune it completely.

And this mind, work on it daily,

until I stop thinking I need a spotlight to feel seen.

You see me.

You love me.

You’re still working on me ,and that means there’s still hope.

So here’s my prayer, Abba

When jealousy tries to settle in,

remind me that I am already chosen.

When pride whispers that I deserve more,

quiet my heart with gratitude.

When comparison clouds my joy,

clear my eyes to see the beauty of my own journey.

Prune me, but help me always remember that it’s not to punish me,

but to make room for more of You.

And as You work on my mind,

let Your truth be louder than every lie I’ve believed.

I trust You with the uncomfortable parts.

The hidden things.

The slow growth.

Because even here,

You’re still holding me

patiently, gently, faithfully.

Amen.

Forever,

Your friend who’s learning and becoming

@afriendshipletter

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