Category: August

A Prayer about Good Grief over Sin  

You became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us. Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. (2 Cor. 7:9–10 NIV)  

Holy and loving Jesus, today I’m praying about my heart, in particular my heart’s convictability. It would be impossible for me to overstate the joy and peace I have in being able to affirm, “There is now [and forever] no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 8:1 NIV). How I praise you for completely exhausting the judgment I deserve for the multiple ways I fail to love God and my neighbors as commanded.

But I’m seeing a disconnect between the good news of no condemnation for my sin and the very important news of deep conviction about my sin. Through recent circumstances and in certain relationships, I can see that I haven’t been taking my sin as seriously as I should. I know this isn’t right, so I need your help. If anything, the gospel of grace should make for quicker and more repentances, not fewer.

To be specific, I’m seeing how I indulge a critical spirit toward some people, and at the same time I work so hard to maintain the approval of others. I’m also aware of the fresh enticements of sexual lust and greed for more “stuff.” Left to myself, I am capable of acting out in very foolish and destructive ways. 

Jesus, bring me to a fresh place of godly sorrow for my sin— the kind of good grief that will lead me to repent more quickly and yet not get weighed down with vain regrets. I know you don’t want me to put my conscience back under the law, but I’m equally sure you do want me to live with my conscience under the gospel. For there is no power like grace that can possibly convict me, humble me, gentle me, and strengthen me for a life of loving well to the glory of God.

Great is your faithfulness, kind are your ways, and sufficient is your grace. I pray in the wonders of your name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about God’s Unparalleled Kindness  

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ— by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. (Eph. 2:4–7) 

Gracious Father, reading these words from Paul is like standing under Niagara Falls with my mouth wide open. I’m capable of taking in only a tiny portion of the mighty waterfall of all this gospel goodness. You inundate us with your great love, multiplied blessings, and incomparable grace. It’s actually fun to repent since repentance opens the floodgate to more of your mercies. 

But today, what really arrests my attention the most is the image of being raised from the dead and seated in Christ so that throughout eternity you might demonstrate your kindness to us in Jesus. That absolutely fries the circuit board of my imagination, throws fuel on the fire of my longings, and reveals the paucity of my faith. 

Father, the revelation of your kindness touches something very deep inside of me in this season of life. Maybe it’s because of how little kindness I see in the world today. Maybe it’s because of how much I long to be a genuinely kind man. Maybe it’s because it contradicts so many wrong images I’ve had of you so much of my life. By the power of the gospel, continue to rid my heart of all the false notions I’ve entertained about you. 

There is no other God who would raise up dead sinners for an eternity of lavishing on them more and more of his kindness. I’m left speechless, breathless, and ever so grateful. I pray in Jesus’ glorious name.

Amen. 

A Prayer for Those Who Want to Be Great and First  

Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. (Mark 10:43– 45 NIV)  

Dear Lord Jesus, as I meditate on your Word this morning, once again I realize the gospel is the most counter intuitive, paradigm-shattering, worldview-transforming force in history. Because of you, true greatness is now measured in terms of being a servant rather than owning the estate. Being first is no longer calculated by how many slaves we own but rather by how many people we serve. You have changed the value and price tags for everything. 

“The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45 NIV). Jesus, tattoo these words on our hearts with indelible ink; make them the most replayed song in the iPod of our soul; keep them before our eyes with neon-flashing brilliance. 

This revolutionary truth contradicts our most basic instincts about everything, including salvation. We don’t want to be ransomed, as guilty rebels; we want to be coddled, as misunderstood victims. We want a second chance, not a second birth. Forgive us, Lord Jesus. 

In our marriages, too often we come not to serve but to be served and to give our criticisms about many things. As leaders in your church, we tend to associate greatness with exercising power and authority rather than washing feet and nurturing your lambs. Forgive us, Lord Jesus. 

What a powerful Lord you are, redeeming the huge mess we’ve made of your world. What a gracious Savior you are, giving your life as the price for making all things new. We fall down before you, in awe of your humility and sacrifice for us. We rise to dance before you, as those upon whom you have lavished such great love, and so joyfully. 

Lord Jesus, only you can change our hearts, and grace always runs downhill— always. We tremble to ask this, but expose our pride, humble our attitudes, and soften our hearts. Make us prefer the hidden place of service over the public place of being noticed. Make us glad to be your servants, wherever you place us. We pray in your tender and powerful name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Normal Trials  

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, as was necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith— more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. (1 Pet. 1:3–7)  

Heavenly Father, today I need a fresh supply of persevering grace, for the “all kinds of trials” of life are sapping my spirit and weighing me down. I need to be reassured that you are refining my faith and not just ignoring me. I feel tired, weary, disillusioned, and a simmering anger is emerging in my spirit. A part of me just says, “Buck up, you woozy whiner!” But I think the gospel offers a better way. 

Honestly, I’m embarrassed to even speak of my trials, because I didn’t go to sleep hungry or thirsty last night, I didn’t hear gunfire echoing through my neighborhood, there’s no plague pillaging my community, I don’t live with the fear of my children being sold into slavery, and my government isn’t threatening the exercise of my faith. These are realities with which many of my brothers and sisters in Christ live on a daily basis. 

For me, it’s more like swimming in a pool of tiny piranha just nibbling away at my joy, energy, and peace. Please give me grace perfectly suited for the demands and the dailiness of normal life— in this body with aging joints and a leaking memory; among fellow sinner-saints who, like me, love inconsistently; in unresolved stories from the past and present of brokenness and weakness; in the face of minor injustices and a lack of common mercies; when cars, plumbing, air conditioners, and other stuff just break; when people don’t say “thank you,” people drive like maniacs, and pets pee on the carpet. 

Lord, in all these things, I want your hand and heart to be at work. I want to know what a man of faith looks like, not just when I am praying for daily bread or facing a firing squad but when I’m living out the implications of the gospel in the daily messiness of normal life. I pray in Jesus’ tender name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Teachability  

Whoever heeds life-giving correction
will be at home among the wise.
Those who disregard discipline despise themselves,
but the one who heeds correction gains understanding.
(Prov. 15:31–32 NIV)

Lord Jesus, scanning through the book of Proverbs recently, I noticed how many verses about staying teachable, receiving correction, and loving discipline I’ve underlined over the course of the years. I wish the sheer number of highlighted verses was an indication of how humble and non defensive a man I am. But that’s simply not the case. I still shift blame, make excuses, and sew fig leaves with the best of them. 

So here’s my prayer: I want to own, grieve, and repent of my defensiveness, Jesus. I’m not sure why, but I’ve become a little more touchy of late, a little more likely to bristle when confronted. I’m sure it’s my pride, insecurities, and self righteousness, but I’m equally sure you’ve got grace for that. 

Jesus, help me anticipate and welcome feedback from my spouse about my attitude, choices, and excesses. Help me to hear your voice in things my children may want to or need to share with me about the past and the present. Help me to cultivate friendships in which growing in grace is just as important as the fun stuff we choose to do. Don’t let me ignore concerns and corrections from mentors, “underlings,” neighbors, even angels you send. 

Help me not just to read the Bible but to have the Bible constantly reading me— exposing my sin and brokenness and revealing more and more and more of the riches of the gospel. There’s no way I’ll make “my home among the wise” without having my heart at home in your mercy, grace, and peace. 

Jesus, it’s because you made yourself of no reputation, becoming sin for me on the cross, that I don’t have to live for my own reputation. Because I’m no longer guilty or condemned for my sin, I can live in the freedom of convictability, teachability, and humility. Help me, Jesus, help me. I pray in your gracious name.

Amen. 

A Prayer for Friends Weighed Down with Various Burdens  

Moreover, as for me, far be it from me that I should sin against the Lord by ceasing to pray for you. (1 Sam. 12:23)  

Dear Jesus, your intercession for us is one of our most prized gifts. And it’s be- cause of your great care and love for us that we bring our friends before you today— friends who are weighed down with various burdens and cares. There are enough stories of stress and struggles all around us to keep us on our knees for a long time. Where else can we go but to you? Hear our prayers for those we love. 

Jesus, we pray for friends dealing with health issues. All along the continuum of common colds to uncommon cancers, we ask you to bring your mercy and healing, Jesus. Whether by the special grace of divine intervention or the common grace of good medicine and health care, it makes no difference. Mete out sufficient grace in each situation. Bring great glory to yourself. Make your presence clearly felt even if your ways cannot be easily discerned. 

We pray for friends struggling financially and in their careers. You don’t promise us abundance or surplus, Jesus, but you do promise to meet all our needs. We especially think of friends who are closer to mental and emotional bankruptcy than financial collapse. By the power of your resurrection and for your name’s sake, open doors that seem locked and bolted. From your storehouse of everlasting goodness, bring forth the right provision at the right time. It’s most likely you will use us as a part of the answer to our prayers. May we be generous and gracious in serving our friends. 

We pray for friends who are burdened relationally. Marriage will always be a center of unrelenting spiritual warfare, for this relationship is meant to tell the story of your great love for your bride. Pour out your Spirit, Jesus. Humble the proud and bring hope to the despairing. Defuse the anger and clarify the issues. Supply the right counsel, and grant ample supplies of forbearance, forgiveness, and reconciliation. 

We ask the same for whole families, long-standing friendships, and local church- es under the siege of broken relationships and battered trust. Do far beyond what we can ask or imagine, for the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself in love. Help us, Jesus, for your glory and fame. We pray in your peerless and price- less name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Quarrelsomeness  

It is better to live in a corner of the housetop than in a house shared with a quarrelsome wife. (Prov. 21:9)  

Gracious Jesus, how often have I read this proverb with the image of a group of “good” men sitting around a Judean campfire complaining about their nagging, “drippy faucet” wives. How arrogant and male of me to act as though only women and wives can be quarrelsome! Yikes! I well know this verse could just as accurately describe a husband, friend, or parent. 

Today I want to own my quarrelsomeness and to ask you to free me for far more healthy and redemptive ways of expressing disappointment, making a point, and engaging in conflict. 

Jesus, when I lose sight of the real issue and simply get argumentative with my spouse, friends, kids, or even strangers, arrest my proud heart. I’m very aware that sometimes my need to win sabotages my commitment to love well. The result is never good. 

When I keep festering and pestering, rather than resting in you, expose my insecure ways for what they really are: I’m assuming the role of the fourth member of the Trinity. Lord, there’s no joy in driving the people I love onto the corner of a roof. 

Jesus, when I protest more than I pray; when I launch more than I listen; when I’m more grouchy than grace-full; when I’m more self-righteous than either right or righteous; when I repay nag for nag, petty for petty, immaturity for immaturity— convict me, forgive me, help me, change me. 

Because the gospel is true, I have hope. Because the gospel is true, I repent. I pray in your compassionate name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Soul Satisfaction  

Because your love is better than life,
my lips will glorify you.
I will praise you as long as I live,
and in your name I will lift up my hands.
I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth will praise you. (Ps. 63:3–5 NIV)

Dear Jesus, King David’s words of unbridled adoration are a rebuke to my measured heart. I spend a lot of time and energy trying to make a “better” life for my- self, and yet David speaks of your love as being better than life itself! What a holy paradox. Oh, to know your love in such a sensate, soul-satisfying way.

Jesus, what would it be like to be so alive to the width, length, height, and depth of your love that I lose control? David danced with shameless nakedness before the returned ark of the covenant. Why can’t I be as free before the finished cross of glory? 

I have no trouble singing to you or lifting my hands in the assembly of your people. But I want to be free to love out loud in contexts not so safe and predictable. I want your love to free me for loving one woman well the rest of my life, no matter what that involves. Oh, that my wife would taste your delight by the way I care for her. I want to be free to use fewer words in relationships so there’s more space for listening, sitting still, and savoring other people’s stories and struggles. I want to be a friend who offers a taste of how you love us— how you love me. 

I want your love to be so compelling that I don’t think of “witnessing” to people, just loving and serving them. I want your love to be so satisfying that I find it hard to make excuses for my brokenness and much easier to live transparently and authentically before others. I want your love to bring forth hot tears of compassion and loud guffaws of joy. You’ve set me free for eternity. Jesus, please set me free for today. I pray in your loving name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about No More Death  

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” (Rev. 21:4–5 NIV)  

Dear Jesus, I’ve never longed for the day of “no more death” more so than today. It’s a source of immeasurable comfort to know this promise is trustworthy and true, for your death was the death of death, Jesus. Indeed, Jesus, you are making all things new. Your resurrection is the guarantee and first fruits of a whole new order. Decay and death, in every form, will be gone forever. Hasten that day, Jesus; hasten that day. 

No more picking out caskets for loved ones. No more compost piles of yesterday’s bouquets. No more walking to divorce court with broken friends. No more death of innocence. No more life robbing cancers. No more burying of unrealized dreams. No more environmental disasters. No longer the heartache of “putting down” a beloved pet. 

Jesus, this is the first day in nearly sixteen years I wake up minus a faithful friend. The void is great and the tears are many. Luther had it right: some of the greatest companions you give us in life are our pets. I never dreamed a Yorkshire terrier could have been such a declaration of your glory. 

A part of me is embarrassed for feeling so sad. The other part says, “Go for it. Let yourself go. Grieve the loss; grieve the ugliness of death that you might advocate for the promise of life— resurrection life—eternal life.” Surely that’s the way of the gospel, Jesus. 

So as you wipe my tears, please fuel my hope and focus my gaze. Death is defeated but not yet annihilated. Decay will be no more, but not yet. Send us forth as your people, Jesus, into the valley of the shadow of death with a glimpse of the first sunrise in the new heaven and new earth. It’s supposed to feel like hurt and hope at the same time. 

You will make the written saying true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.” “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Cor. 15:54–55 NIV). You are the grave robber, Jesus. Our labors in you are not in vain. In your trustworthy and triumphant name I pray.

Amen. 

A Prayer about a Third Kind of Son  

And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. (Luke 15:20)  

Heavenly Father, I’m not beginning my day in a faraway country, derelict and destitute. Though I’m capable of anything, I’m not sitting here filled with shame for squandering an inheritance, and neither am I out in a field feeding somebody else’s pigs. 

I’m in a comfortable chair, sipping a fresh cup of coffee, surrounded by more than my share of creature comforts. And yet I’m just as much in need of fellowship with you as any of your broken children . . . so here I come.

Because the gospel is true, I bring you my busy, bland, somewhat disconnected heart. I feel like a third son right now. I’m not struggling with the extremes of either of your boys in Luke 15. I’m not acting out in destructive “fleshy” ways, and I’m not presently wallowing in the ugliness of my self-righteousness. I’m just some- where in between. I still hear and love the wonderful music of the gospel, but I just don’t feel like dancing right now.

So, Father, as I come to you today, I take great comfort in knowing that I’ll always find you filled with compassion for me, even when my feelings are not fully engaged with you. As I saunter toward you, you’re always running toward me in Jesus. As I’m glad to see you, you see me from afar and are thrilled at the sighting.

When I’m not as inclined to lift my arms in praise to you, your embrace is the most predictable element in my day. You don’t just put your hand on my shoulder; you throw your arms around me in the gospel. And though my affection for you wavers, you will shower me with multiple kisses all day long, for you love your children with an everlasting, unwavering love. 

Because the gospel is true, I’ll seek to live to your glory today, neither by sight nor by my feelings but by the faith you’ve given me to trust and love you. It’s not my grasp of you but your grasp of me in the gospel that matters the most. It’s not the enjoyment of my peace with you but the assurance that you are at peace with me that is the anchor for my soul. I pray in Jesus’ wonderful and merciful name.

Amen.