Category: December

A Prayer about Burying My Dad  

“Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. (1 Cor. 15:55–58)  

Dear Jesus, on the calendar, Thanksgiving has just passed and Advent is about to begin. But in my heart, it’s the day I’ll bury my dad next to my mom. The promise of sufficient grace is one I’ll selfishly grab all this day long. 

As I pray, I’m sitting in Dad’s favorite chair— the one in which he worked thou- sands of crossword puzzles to keep his mind sharp and subtle. The same chair from which he began to look at me with confusion until the day he simply couldn’t connect my face and name any longer. 

I praise you that though we may forget one another’s names, you’ll never forget us— never. Alzheimer’s robbed Dad of a lot, but you robbed the grave of its fear- holding, heart-ripping victory. You’ve turned death’s sting into a harmless noodle, a fangless threat, even a portal to heaven. Your death on the cross was the death of death. The comfort and joy I have in knowing dad is with you is simply immeasurable. 

But I also have great comfort and joy in remembering what took place before you took Dad home. Jesus, I praise you for working in our relationship way beyond what I could’ve asked or imagined. For decades Mom’s death had more power over us than your life. Jesus, thank you for bringing healing to that wound before Dad disappeared into Alzheimer’s. Thank you that Dad and I were finally able to weep together over the loss that ripped us apart. Thank you that we were finally able to return to her grave together ten years ago for the first time. Thank you that your name is Redeemer, not only of the grave but before the grave.

And thank you that as we return to Mom’s grave together again today, it will not be a day of grieving as those who have no hope, but as those with a living hope and an unspeakable joy. I treasure knowing Dad and Mom are with you. Hallelujah, what a Savior! Hallelujah, what a salvation! I pray with great joy, in your gracious name, with wet eyes and a full heart.

Amen. 

A Prayer about the Advent Arms of God  

You who bring good news to Jerusalem,
lift up your voice with a shout, lift it up,
do not be afraid; say to the towns of Judah,
“Here is your God!”
See, the Sovereign Lord comes with power,
and he rules with a mighty arm.
See, his reward is with him,
and his recompense accompanies him.
He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young.
(Isa. 40:9–11 NIV)

Gracious Father, Advent is upon us— the cherished season when we remember and celebrate the coming of Jesus, the promised Messiah, your beloved Son, our gracious Savior. Grant that it will prove to be much more than Advent-as-usual. 

Surprise us, Father. Let us engage with the story of Jesus’ birth as though for the very first time. Rescue us from the sentimental and the predictable. Bring familiar Scriptures alive in fresh ways. Reshape how we do Christmas this year by the power of the gospel. 

Already this morning I’ve been arrested with Isaiah’s picture of your “Advent arms.” The promise of the Messiah carries with it the promise of the embrace we all need but scarcely believe. In Jesus, you come near to us as the sovereign Lord, with your sleeves rolled up as the great ruler. Your arm rules over all history, all nations, all kings, all circumstances. Nothing and no one can alter, subvert, or change the story you are telling through Jesus and the kingdom you are advancing through Jesus. 

In Jesus, you come near to us as the most compassionate Shepherd, gathering and carrying your lambs in your arms. The image and hope are staggering. To be tended as a dumb sheep, to be held close to your heart, to be gently led— what more could we possibly long for? 

These aren’t mere metaphors, Father. Metaphors cannot save us, only inspire us. You really are this kind of God and you really are this kind. The coming of Jesus puts all nations on notice: there is only one true King. And the coming of Jesus puts all your people face down in adoring love, for Jesus is a most wonderful, merciful Savior, Immanuel, the God who is with us and the God who is for us. I pray with Advent wonder, in Jesus’ matchless name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Loving from the Heart  

Having purified your souls by your obedience to the truth for a sincere brotherly love, love one another earnestly from a pure heart, since you have been born again, not of perishable seed but of imperishable, through the living and abiding word of God. (1 Pet. 1:22–23)  

Dear Jesus, this is an awesome morning: good coffee, a fire in the fireplace, Christmas music playing, and a Scripture about loving well. 

It’s only because you came into the world for me that I have the slightest clue about what loving well— having a “sincere love”— looks like. Jesus, it’s only because you lived for me and died for me that I have any experience of being loved deeply from the heart— your heart. 

I need to sit still and marinate in this good news as my day begins: O joy beyond all delightings, O peace beyond all understandings, O hope beyond all imaginings— Jesus loves you deeply from his heart . . . and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t add to his love for you and you can’t diminish his love for you. You can simply enjoy it, be changed by it, and share it with others. 

Jesus, I never could have “purified myself.” I never could have gained a relationship with God through purgings, penance, and promises of doing more and trying harder. What religion could never do for me, you’ve done for me. That’s what we celebrate at Advent: your coming to do for us what we could never do for ourselves. “Born that man no more may die, born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth —Hark! The herald angels sing, ‘Glory to the newborn King!’” 

It’s only because I was given the “second birth,” only because I was born again of the “imperishable seed” of grace, that I discovered my need of the gospel and was able to obey the truth of the gospel by believing it. You get all the credit, Jesus, from beginning to end. 

So as I celebrate your incarnation this early morning, I surrender to its implications. Love in me and love through me, Jesus. There’s no other way I will love anybody well. Make my love for my brothers and sisters sincere and observable. Teach me how to love deeply from my heart, just as you love us. I pray in your holy and loving name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Jesus’ Broad Shoulders  

For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called Wonderful Counselor,
Mighty God, Everlasting Father,
Prince of Peace.

Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end.
He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom,
establishing and upholding it with justice
and righteousness from that time on and forever.
The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this.
(Isa. 9:6–7 NIV)

King Jesus, knowing the government of the whole world already rests on your shoulders profoundly humbles and gladdens us. It fills us with a joy second only to knowing your shoulders fully bore our sin. 

Jesus, in you are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. You are Wonderful Counselor. We look to you for knowledge of great mysteries and insight into things eternal, but you’re also the one to whom we look for counsel on loving well— handling fresh disappointments, old hurts, and unfulfilled longings. You care about everything.

Jesus, you uphold all things by the power of your Word. You are Mighty God, the one who created and sustains the entire universe. You also give us power to boast in our weaknesses when we’d rather be self sufficient.

Jesus, to see you is to see the Father, and by your work we know God as Father. You care so tenderly for the needs of the world— even the flowers of every field and the birds in every sky. But you also care about us. We are no longer orphans. Jesus, no one else can pretend to be the Prince of Peace, for you alone paid the price of peace on the cross. Even as you are bringing the increase of your government and peace to all things, so you are advancing the reign of your grace in our lives. Forgive us when we look for wholeness, contentment, and healing some where else, for it cannot be found except in you. 

For your broad shoulders, big heart, and coming kingdom, be glorified, O blessed Messiah and Redeemer. We pray in your matchless and merciful name. 

Amen. 

A Prayer about Not Being Afraid  

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the peo- ple. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Mes- siah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:8–12 NIV)  

Gracious Jesus, I’m confronted with the command “Do not be afraid” at both your birth and your resurrection (Luke 2:10; Matt. 28:5), like bookends of glory. Ever since our first parents sinned, feared, and hid, I’ve helped to keep the family tradition alive. At times fear has more power over my life than your love, and though I already know myself to be clothed in your righteousness, I still reach into my closet for fig leaves. 

I join shepherds in hurrying off to come to you, Jesus, for you alone bring the good news of great joy for which my heart longs every day. You alone can charm my fears and set this prisoner more fully free. 

Because the gospel is true, I can tell you what you already know to be true, Jesus. My fears aren’t all that noble. I’m not really afraid of angelic hosts. I’m not really afraid to die. You’ve already set me free from that defining fear. I’m not even afraid of facing the final judgment, for I humbly cling to your cross as my judgment day. You’ve exhausted God’s judgment against all my sins— past, present, and future. Hallelujah!

So what fears haunt me? For what fears do I need to obey the command “Do not be afraid”? I’ll start with “the fear of man.” Jesus, there are some people whose praise and disdain at times have more power over my heart than the gospel. It hurts to say it, but it’s true. 

Then there’s the fear of redundancy— the fear of disappearing into a cloud of not mattering anymore. Jesus, even as I acknowledge this fear, I praise you for your non condemning gaze. It’s not easy to confess such weakness. May the joy of being used by you never supersede the much greater joy of simply being known and loved by you. 

Jesus, I have other fears that need gospel charming. I bring these to you today with joy, for I’ve come to know you are not only a baby wrapped in cloths lying in a manger. I’ve also found you to be a Savior outside an empty tomb and now at the Father’s right hand, ever living to advocate and pray for me. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I pray in your liberating name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about God’s Favor Resting on Us  

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” (Luke 2:13–14 NIV)  

Heavenly Father, I’ve got to sit in these words for a bit: “peace to those on whom his favor rests.” It’s all right there in this doxological declaration, this angelic proclamation, this gospel-filled affirmation—everything my heart longs for, more than I could have ever hoped for or imagined. I know with certainty that you are at peace with me— that I’m someone upon whom your favor permanently rests — all because of what you’ve done for us in Jesus. 

Father, if unredeemed angels were in awe of such good news, how much more should I be staggered and astonished, humbled and grateful, liberated and transformed? 

We invest so much of our lives looking for favor— wanting to be wanted, longing to be celebrated, and seeking to be acceptable. Personally, I’ve looked to people and work, to education and exercise, to money and things, even to spiritual disciplines and ministry to give me what you alone give us so freely and fully in the gospel. 

And what a freeing paradox, Father: the more we come alive to the riches of the gospel, the less we obsess about our own lives. We don’t end up thinking more of ourselves or less of ourselves. We just think of ourselves less often. How liberating! 

Jesus, may this old host of angels drive us into a new worship of you this Advent season. It’s only because you submitted to the fullness of God’s disfavor for us that we can boast of having the fullness of God’s favor resting on us. We praise, honor, and adore you. We dare not look at your cradle without gazing at your cross. We pray in your holy and loving name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about No More Harm  

The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
and the calf and the lion and the yearling together;
and a little child will lead them.
The cow will feed with the bear,
their young will lie down together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox.
The infant will play near the cobra’s den,
the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest.
They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.
(Isa. 11:6–9 NIV)

Jesus, there are many things I love about the Advent season— the songs regaling your birth, the aroma of yuletide foods and spices, the dancing array of Christmas lights aglow in my neighborhood each evening. But I especially love fueling my faith and imagination with the promises God made surrounding your arrival. Every promise he has made finds its yes in you. 

Today in particular, I’m stirred to think about the day of no more harm of any variety. “They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain” (Isa. 11:9 NIV). 

Oh, for the day when all “tooth and claw” violence gives way to wolves frolicking with lambs; leopards and goats napping together; calves, lions, and young horses strolling through the new heaven and new earth as friends; cows and bears eating together rather than one another; snakes as pets rather than pests. 

As much as I love the vision of shalom in the animal kingdom, ten thousand times over I long for the day when we, the two legged image bearers of the living God, no longer harm one another in any way. No more marginalizing or minimizing one another; no more demeaning or dismissing one another; no more vilifying or idolizing one another; no more hating or hurting one another; no more using or abusing one another in any way. 

Hasten the day when we will finally and fully love one another as you love us, Jesus. Until that day, keep us groaning and growing in grace. Grant us quick repentances when we love poorly. May the world recognize us as your disciples by the way we love one another. We pray in your powerful and patient name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about God’s Irrepressible Goodness  

“Ask a sign of the Lord your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven.” But Ahaz said, “I will not ask, and I will not put the Lord to the test.” And [Isaiah] said, “Hear then, O house of David! Is it too little for you to weary men, that you weary my God also? Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” (Isa. 7:11–14)  

Gracious Father, the more often and the more carefully I read your Word the more I realize how little of your goodness I actually “get.” I love the name “Immanuel”— God with us— yet today I realize you gave this hope in full view of unfaithfulness, unbelief, and unrighteousness. What a God you are! What a story you’re telling! 

It was a time of local and international crisis, and King Ahaz had every opportunity to repent and rely on you. You sent Isaiah with words of wisdom and hope. But he refused. Feigning piety, King Ahaz remained addicted to his illusion of control and self-sufficiency. 

Father, as I read this story, I realize how much I’m like King Ahaz. Often I go through the motions of acknowledging you, but on the inside I’m far more resolved to trust in me than in you. I can’t throw any stones today at this wicked king. Rather, I grieve my own illusion of control and self-sufficiency. 

That’s why the promise of Immanuel is so precious to me. Father, you’ve proven yourself to be a God who is not only with me in Jesus, but a God who is so very much for me in Jesus. Your love for us in the gospel is not only unconditional, it’s contra conditional. For you’ve met every condition necessary to fulfill your commitment to redeem your pan-national people and restore your broken creation. What a gospel you’ve given us in Jesus!

King Jesus, though I don’t have the Assyrian army outside my door threatening my existence, I do have no small number of challenges in front of me this Advent season. By faith through grace, I purpose to rely on you for gospel sanity and strength, just as I rely on you for my forgiveness and my righteousness. You are with me and you are for me, and that is enough. I pray in the glory of your name. 

Amen. 

A Prayer about Seeming Impossibilities  

“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?” The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. For no word from God will ever fail.” “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.” Then the angel left her. (Luke 1:34–38 NIV)  

Heavenly Father, you gave Mary a calling no one else will ever share— to be the mother of God the Son. And yet I do have a lot in common with her. When I consider the enormity of the promises you’ve made accompanying the birth of Jesus, I too say and pray with incredulity, “How will this be?” And I hear you answer back in the gospel, “Nothing is impossible with God.” 

There’s nothing you’ve promised, with respect to Jesus, that won’t come to pass. This includes the transformation of this broken world into the new heaven and new earth. It includes the redeeming of a bride for Jesus from every single nation, tribe, people, and language. But it also includes your plans for my life. Just as surely as you placed the life of Jesus in Mary, you have done the same for me. Though in an entirely different way than Mary, I too am pregnant with glory. (Rom. 8:18–27) 

One day I will fully love with the kindness and compassion of Jesus. I will think and see only with the wisdom and eyes of heaven. I will completely embrace the will of God as my favorite bread and utter delight. One day I will never be selfish, petty, or defensive again. I will never get my feelings hurt, insist on being right, or demand more. I will think of others more highly and more often than myself. I won’t keep a record of anybody’s wrongs, no longer remembering and rehearsing the ways others have failed me and the ways I’ve failed them. I will be free, so very free and whole. 

To all of these promises I find myself saying, “How will this be, since I’m still so very much not like Jesus?” And you answer back so graciously, “Things impossible with man are possible with God.” And I say and pray, “May it be as you have promised in the gospel, holy and faithful Father. I am yours and your servant.” I pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about the Heart and Habits of the Gospel  

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go be- fore the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. (Luke 1:76– 79)  

Dear Father, I often forget about the other special baby promised and delivered in the Advent story: John the Baptist, the forerunner, the way maker, the friend of the bridegroom. His birth and life are such a testimony to the way, the gospel. 

Oh, to become a man like John, whose joy was to decrease as Jesus increased. Oh, to be a parent like Zechariah, wanting only what you want for our children and grandchildren. 

What more could a father, like Zechariah, desire for his son than for him to be a powerful and passionate witness to Jesus, the Messiah— the one in whom we experience  your tender mercy and full forgiveness? There needed to be only one John the Baptist, and yet there is an ongoing need for many others to live and love as John did. 

What better story could we write or what other story would we choose than for our kids to be a means by which the rising sun of grace would bring the light of the gospel to the dark places and the broken people of the world? 

Father, we lift our children and grandchildren to you. For those who don’t know you, in light of your covenant promises, we ask you to bring them to a saving knowledge of Jesus. Rescue them from religion and non religion. For those who do know you, we pray that the gospel would go deeper and deeper into their hearts, assuring them of your tender mercies and sufficient grace, transforming them into the likeness of Jesus, and freeing them for a life of living, loving, and serving in your church and kingdom. 

Our prayer for our children and grandchildren is the same one we offer for our- selves: Lord Jesus, guide us into the heart and habits of the gospel; guide our feet more surely onto the path of peace; lead us deeper into the ways of shalom, into your commitment to redeem your people and make all things new. We pray in your name and for your glory.

Amen.