Category: April

A Prayer about God’s Sovereignty and Our Sanity 

At the end of the days I, Nebuchadnezzar, lifted my eyes to heaven, and my reason returned to me, and I blessed the Most High, and praised and honored him who lives forever, for his dominion is an everlasting dominion, and his kingdom endures from generation to generation; all the inhabitants of the earth are accounted as nothing, and he does according to his will among the host of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth; and none can stay his hand or say to him, “What have you done?” (Dan. 4:34–35)  

Almighty Father, I need to bookmark this passage and return to it often, for it doesn’t just tell the conversion story of a pagan king; it’s the ongoing story of my heart. We’re never more sane than when we raise our eyes toward heaven and focus our attention on you. Navel-gazing, circumstance watching, and daily news fixating never serve us well. 

Father, help us to understand the glorious implications of your perpetual enthronement. Your dominion is the only eternal dominion. November elections and political insurrections; the world economy and temperature instability; earthquakes and oil leaks; multiplied conspiracies and grassroots organizing don’t affect your reign one microbit for one nanosecond. 

For your kingdom endures from generation to generation. There never has been, nor will there ever be, any nervous sweat, furrowed brows, or anxious pacing in heaven. There will be not one moment of consternation or vexation in the corridors of paradise; no need for a plan B to emerge from the big boardroom. 

Father, you do as you please with the powers of heaven and the peoples of earth. I praise you for marshalling the powers of heaven for the salvation of ill deserving rebels like me and the ultimate transformation of the entire cosmos. Though many tried to hold back your hand and many said, “What are you doing?” nevertheless you chose the sacrifice of your Son and the “foolishness” of the cross (1 Cor. 1:18) as the greatest demonstration of your sovereignty and grace. 

The only King who could say, “Behold the world I have made,” is the only King who would say, “Behold the people for whom I die.” Father, the greatest sanity is gospel sanity. Keep us sane, Father; keep us gospel sane. 

We choose to lift our eyes to heaven today and fix our gaze on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, and we cry with unfettered, unabated joy, “Hallelujah, what a Savior! Hallelujah, what a salvation!” We pray in the name and for the glory of the true King, Jesus.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Pain-Generated Compassion  

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. (Col. 3:12 NIV)  

Jesus, the gospel should be all the motivation I need for living as a compassionate, kind, humble, gentle, and patient man— especially when I consider this is how you relate to me 24/7, in full view of my ill deserving ways. I’ll never experience you as insensitive, unkind, proud, harsh, or impatient. Indeed, through the gospel, I’ve become a member of God’s chosen, holy, dearly loved people. 

Yet it does take more: sometimes it takes pain. Today is just such a day. As I pray, I’m hurting big-time. Today it will be easier for me to clothe myself with compassion than with cotton. Yesterday afternoon I forgot that exercising at the gym doesn’t qualify me to be a refrigerator mover. But as I hurt, I’m moved to pray today for chronic sufferers— those who cry, “How long, O Lord?” for better reasons and with more tears than I have. 

Jesus, I pray for people with unrelenting pain in their bodies— those who no longer get any relief from physical therapy or medication. I pray for people with emotional and mental diseases, who live in the cruel world of delusional thinking and sabotaging emotions. I pray for their families and caregivers. 

I pray for the unconscionable number of children in the world who are suffering from hunger and malnutrition and for their parents who feel both shame and helplessness. Lord, these and many more stories of great suffering I bring before you. 

I also pray for the worst chronic suffering of all: for those who are “separate from Christ, excluded from citizenship in Israel and foreigners to the covenants of the promise, without hope and without God in the world” (Eph. 2:12 NIV). Come, Holy Spirit, come, and apply the saving benefits of Jesus to the religious and the nonreligious alike— to those who may be in the church or in the culture but who are not in Christ. 

Jesus, I anticipate getting over this back pain pretty soon, but I don’t want to get over compassionate praying and compassionate living. I pray in your kind and caring name.

Amen. 

A Prayer for the Spiritually Distressed 

O Lord, you have deceived me, 
and I was deceived; 
you are stronger than I, and you have prevailed. 
I have become a laughingstock all the day; 
everyone mocks me. (Jer. 20:7) 

Why did I come out from the womb to see toil and sorrow and spend my days in shame? (Jer. 20:18) Gracious Father, this is some pretty raw praying by one of your prophets. Jeremiah’s lament makes me thankful today for the freedom you give us to bring our unfiltered and unfettered feelings to you. If we don’t bring our painful emotions to you, we will take them somewhere. Somebody besides ourselves will feel the brunt of our anguish and anger.

But only you have the big enough heart and broad enough shoulders to walk with us through the chaos and confusion. I praise you for the constancy of your welcome. If you’re not put off by Jeremiah’s struggle, surely you will take on ours. And to think, the same prophet who assured others of your gracious promise and good plan—a plan for prosperity, not harm (Jer. 29:11); the same prophet who gave us a vision of the glory and the grace of the new covenant (Jer. 31:31–34); this same prophet, like us, experienced seasons in which he felt deceived, betrayed, and abandoned, even grieving the day he was born. We’re all weak and broken. We all need the gospel. 

This gives me courage as I seek to steward my own feelings. But today it gives me compassion as I pray for a few friends who are feeling exactly what Jeremiah felt. 

For the friend I sat with yesterday who’s feeling set up, chewed up, and spit out by you, bring the gospel to bear. She loves you, but she feels abandoned by you. She knows better, but she feels bitter. My instinct is to “fix her,” but the way of the gospel is to listen and love before launching. Give me patience and kindness as I trust you to restore her to gospel sanity. 

For my friend whose spiritual melancholia is heading to an even darker place, Father, give me wisdom. What’s purely physical? What’s to some degree demonic? What’s just plain ol’ pity party? I don’t know. I just don’t know. 

Help me, Lord, and heal my friends. Meet them as you met Jeremiah. I pray in Jesus’ strong and loving name.

Amen. 

A Prayer Celebrating Jesus’ Active Advocacy  

But he [Stephen], full of the Holy Spirit, gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. And he said, “Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.” (Acts 7:55–56)  

Gracious Jesus, this scene from Stephen’s costly discipleship shouts your engagement, care, and love for us, your people. With stones bouncing off his brow, Stephen saw you standing at the right hand of the Father—rising for the very occasion of Stephen’s greatest challenge and forthcoming death. Indeed, you are the Good Shepherd, who cares so faithfully for your lambs even from heaven. 

May this story supplant every wrong notion I’ve ever had about you “sitting at the right hand of the Father.” Your “sitting” doesn’t speak of passivity or inactivity. On the contrary, you are “sitting” as one in session— as the One already enthroned as the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. 

When you completed your work of redemption for us on the cross, then and only then did you take your seat at the right hand of God the Father, celebrating the victory of your cry, “It is finished” (John 19:30). And since that time all of your enemies are becoming your footstool, as your kingdom advances in time and space (Heb. 10:12–13). 

Jesus, forgive me for ever thinking that you’ve forgotten about me, don’t really care about me, or have even abandoned me. I confess that sometimes, especially when life seems the hardest, loneliest, most unfair, and most broken, I entertain these foolish, unfounded, disbelieving notions. 

Holy Spirit, do the same for us as you did for Stephen. Open the eyes of our hearts to see more of Jesus. Let us see “heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God” (Acts 7:56), no matter if the sky is filled with foreboding, dark clouds or if the sky is totally cloudless and Carolina blue. Just let us see Jesus, and it will be enough. I pray in Jesus’ exalted name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about the Ultimate Oxymoron  

Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. “Never, Lord!” he said. “This shall never happen to you!” (Matt. 16:22 NIV)  

Patient Jesus, if an oxymoron is the juxtaposition of incongruous terms— like deafening silence, jumbo shrimp, planned spontaneity, or peace offensive— then the ultimate oxymoron is “Never, Lord!” Those two words just don’t belong together. Yet, like Peter, I often match them up. 

When you tell me that my need of salvation is so great— that I am so broken, so sinful, so diseased, so rebellious that only the gospel of God’s grace can save someone like me— and yet I persist in trying to merit the righteousness of God or at least “supplement” what you’ve done for me on the cross, I pull you aside, rebuke you, and say, “Never, Lord! You haven’t done quite enough for me.” 

When you assure me that your grace will be sufficient for me and that in my weakness your strength will be made perfect, and yet I persist in unbelief and start looking for sufficiency somewhere else, I say to your face, “Never, Lord! Your grace won’t be quite enough for me.” 

When you call me to participate in your big story of redemption— of making all things new and gathering your bride from every nation— and yet I persist in living a little narrative of personal peace and fulfillment instead of finding my place in your story, I am saying to your face, “Never, Lord! Your glory is not as important as my happiness.” 

Have mercy on me, Jesus. Not on Peter, on me! 

Lord Jesus, “Yes!” A thousand times “Yes!” to whatever you have said, have promised, and are up to in my life and in your world. Please take me aside and rebuke me with the gospel on a daily basis. I pray in your most wonderful and awe- worthy name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Freedom from My Imprisonments  

Bring me out of prison,
that I may give thanks to your name! (Ps. 142:7)   

Jesus, great Lord and Liberator, when King David prayed for freedom from his prison, he wasn’t behind iron bars; he was hiding in a cave. It’s obvious he felt pursued, trapped, and alone. It’s also obvious he enjoyed great freedom to own his desperation and abandon himself to you. I begin today doing the same. 

You’ve already set me free from many slavish imprisonments: the fear of dying, for you robbed the grave of its victory through your resurrection; the fear of judgment, for you were condemned in my place upon the cross; the tyranny of false gospels, for it’s your obedience and righteousness that make me acceptable to God; the myth of autonomy, for you alone are the sovereign Lord and the King of Kings. When I consider these liberties, why would I doubt your ability or willingness to set me free from other imprisonments? 

Jesus, set me free from vain regrets— those haunting memories of what could have been and what should have been. I want to learn from the past, not be enslaved to the past. Your name is Redeemer. 

Set me free from the fear of incompetency. I still feel insecure and under equipped in some important areas of life, mostly relational. I yearn for more freedom from the fear of man, truly a snare (Prov. 29:25). Be big in my life, Jesus, that people may assume the right size. I long to be a courageous peacemaker— not looking for fights but working for shalom. 

Set me free from the power of old wounds. I’m a victim, but that’s not my identity. Some things will be fully healed only by your second coming. Let me be okay with that, even as I trust you to use my pain for the benefit of others. 

The more freedom you give me, the more fully I will seek to praise your name. I pray in your merciful and mighty name.

Amen. 

A Prayer of Big Thanks for Big Grace  

Praise the Lord, my soul;
all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
Praise the Lord, my soul,
and forget not all his benefits—
who forgives all your sins
and heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit
and crowns you with love and compassion,
who satisfies your desires with good things
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s. (Ps. 103:1–5 NIV)

Dear Jesus, though I’m growing forgetful, I pray I will never forget you or a single benefit you’ve given me so freely in the gospel. But irrespective of changes in my brain chemistry, you will never, ever forget me. This is my great hope and peace. While my memory is fully functioning, here are a few things for which I am especially grateful as this day begins. 

I praise you for forgiving all my sins— past, present, and future— sins of thought, word, and deed. I used to think you forgive only confessed sins, but now I realize I’m probably aware of only 4 percent of my sins. But your blood covers the other 96 percent as well. 

I praise you for healing all my diseases— diseases in my body, heart, and mind. Though I wish you would completely heal me before you return, nonetheless, I have this sure hope: one day I will be perfectly whole. Praise the Lord, O my soul, for present, ongoing, and a secured complete healing! 

I praise you for redeeming my life from all pits— the pit of eternal separation from God, the pits others throw me into, the pits I naively fall into, and the pits I foolishly dig for myself! Praise the Lord, O my soul, for an all-pit redemption! 

I praise you for crowning me with your love and compassion. You have taken away all my guilt and you’ve borne my shame. I now live under grace, not law. Praise the Lord, O my soul, for a coronation of mercy and grace! 

I praise you for satisfying my desires with good things. Lord, I praise you for the kiss of my wife, the taste of dark chocolate, and the rainbow painted on a trout and in the sky, to name a few. Praise the Lord, O my soul, for a God who delights in delighting us! 

Jesus, may the unsearchable, innumerable, and inexhaustible riches of the gospel renew me today with youth like energy, that I may soar like an eagle and live to the praise of your glorious grace!

Amen. 

A Prayer about a Gospel Garden  

Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness. You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God. . . . Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift! (2 Cor. 9:10–11, 15 NIV)  

Heavenly Father, once again you’ve given us a beautiful spring. I absolutely love this time of year. Every day begins and ends with the most refreshing cool. The browns and grays of winter step aside for the kaleidoscopic colors and aromatic wonder of a brand-new season. 

As tiny buds segue into full leaf and bloom, I’m reminded of your covenant faithfulness. The cycle of seedtime and harvest will continue until the completed harvest of your pan-national family and the emergence of the ultimate garden city— the New Jerusalem. Oh, hasten that day! Hasten the day of the sneezeless, allergyless new heaven and new earth! 

Father, thanks for including us in this whole redeeming and greening process. You’ve not only promised to turn the barrenness and fallowness of our lives into a “well-watered garden” (Isa. 58:11; Jer. 31:12), you’ve also promised to use us as a means of making all things new, beautiful, lush, and fruitful. 

Gardening is hard, Father, with its weeds, pests, and drought. But the gospel is our surety. You’ve planted and raised the perfect seed, Jesus, as the first fruit of the final harvest. There’s no possibility of crop failure. 

Some of us plant, some of us water, but only you cause things to grow (1 Cor. 3:6). You are causing things to grow, and you will continue to do so. Indeed, “the gospel is bearing fruit and growing throughout the whole world” (Col. 1:6 NIV). 

O Father, make us and our church families gardens of grace and righteousness, for your glory and the benefit of our communities. We pray in Jesus’ fruitful and faithful name.

Amen. 

A Prayer in Praise of God’s Goodness  

May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus. (Rom. 15:5) 

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. (Rom. 15:13) 

May the God of peace be with you all. Amen. (Rom. 15:33)  

Gracious Father, your Word never ceases to astonish, nourish, and cause my heart to flourish. Today I’m reveling in the fact that you delight to be known, and I’m rejoicing in who you reveal yourself to be. In this one chapter alone (Rom. 15) out of nearly 1,200 in the Bible, you come to me this very day as . . . 

The God of endurance and encouragement. O Father, you know how much I need both of these grace gifts. I’m tired and worn out, and on top of that, I haven’t been sleeping well at all lately. Why can’t our crises be spread out a little more evenly in life? I may be exaggerating out of exhaustion, but it seems like I’ve had an inordinate number of broken people asking of me more than I have to give. Please grant me strength, Father, and encourage my fainting heart. 

The God of hope. It’s an increasingly complex world, Father. It feels more uncertain and fragile than ever. Fill my heart with a vision of your finished story. Quicken my senses with the sounds of the new heaven and new earth, the smells of that garden city, the beauty of what it’s going to be like when Jesus finishes making all things new. May this living and sure hope give me courage to serve you sacrificially, with the joy given by the Holy Spirit. Indeed, Father, I want to overflow with hope, not just be a slow drip. 

The God of peace. Father, you are the consummate peacemaker—reconciling enemies and restoring broken things. I only have peace with you because you have made your peace with me through the work of Jesus. May this profound assurance free me today to live as a conduit of your shalom-making love and power. To know that you are with me and for me will be enough. 

I pray in Jesus’ matchless name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Relational Messes and God’s Mercies  

For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another. But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. (Gal. 5:13–16)  

Forbearing Father, thank you for documenting the relational failures, foibles, and foolishness of your people. It helps me repent of idolizing the perfect community. It also keeps me from giving up and running away from other Christians. The fact that you’ve chronicled just how poorly we love one another is a witness to the steadfastness of your love and the depth of our brokenness. We need the gospel every day— every hour. 

These stories of relational madness also serve as a warning and wooing to much healthier ways of relating. That we indulge our sinful nature and “bite and devour one another” (Gal. 5:15) is a sad fact. But it’s not our fate and it’s not okay. One day we will be made perfect in love. Sear and seal this hope upon our hearts, and may it be the fuel for earnest reflection and change. 

Come, Holy Spirit, come. Grant us godly sorrow and deep repentance for the ways we hide the beauty of Jesus in our churches by our pettiness, immaturity, and selfishness. Let us grieve as those who really “get” the gospel and as those who realize what is at stake. In a day when the culture is looking for reasons not to believe the gospel, forgive us for adding to their ammo and salvo. 

Forgive us, Jesus. You’ve made it clear that the world will know that we are your disciples by the way we love one another. You’ve also made it clear that the quality of our relationships is one of the ways the world will believe that our Father sent you to be the Savior of the world (John 17:20–23). No wonder they remain unconvinced. 

Bring the power of the gospel to bear upon our shared and broken life in the body of Christ. Grace doesn’t free us to love poorly but to love generously, extravagantly, in keeping with how Jesus loves us. Grace is not a green card for self- indulgence. It’s our only hope for serving one another in love. We pray in your holy and loving name.

Amen.