From all my lame defeats and oh! much more
From all the victories that I seemed to score;
From cleverness shot forth on Thy behalf
At which, while angels weep, the audience laugh;
From all my proofs of Thy divinity,
Thou, who wouldst give no sign, deliver me.
Thoughts are but coins. Let me not trust, instead
Of Thee, their thin-worn image of Thy head.
From all my thoughts, even from my thoughts of Thee,
O thou fair Silence, fall, and set me free.
Lord of the narrow gate and the needle's eye,
Take from me all my trumpery lest I die.
-C.S. Lewis, "The Apologist's Evening Prayer"
What a prayer that is.
I'm human. I'm messed up. I'm prideful -- I have to remind myself that the things I can do, I can do because of God. My thoughts are corrupted, even some of my thoughts of God.
So, God, give me peace. Give me silence, so I can be set free from my own wacked thoughts. I don't want any of the extra stuff, any of the trumpery.
Take from me all my trumpery lest I die.