Confession after a Presbytery Meeting

Forgive me Lord, sometimes I just don't get it.
I confess: I hate name tags.
I confess: the coffee is terrible, but I drink it anyway, with very little thankfulness.
I confess: what I believe the Church really is just doesn't connect with what I see in front of my eyes.
I confess: I cannot get on board with the "new" or the "creative" or the "revival of an old tradition."
I confess: I often use the word cheesy, in relation to something as sacred as the corporate worship of your people.
 I confess: I've got preacher's disease something awful.  I can get so terribly judgmental of what others are saying from the pulpit, or how they are saying it, that I easily miss the truth it contains.
I confess: I cringe at the phrase: interpretive dance.
I confess: I really do prefer singing songs I already know.
I confess: I inwardly mocking people who wear jeans and sport coats at Presbytery meetings, but I mean come on, make a decision already.
I confess: I am a bit bemused by the number of clergy-people with hyphenated last names, not for any good reason, just because I think it's weird.
I confess: I tune people out rather quickly if I think they're an idiot.
I confess: I think a lot of people are idiots.
I confess to not so secretly deriding the parliamentary procedure that keep us from throwing rocks at each other.
Because I also confess to wanting to throw rocks at others rather more often than would be prudent.
I confess to being too much of an introvert to go mingle and make small talk.
I confess to being a bit disgruntled that no one notices I'm even there.
I confess to wishing several people would just shut up and vote.
I confess to wanting to get out the door as quickly as humanly possible
Lord, I confess to not seeing how any of this is really a glory to your kingdom, and I'm asking you to forgive my blindness, because I'm sure they're all doing their best to serve you.
Amen.