Category: June

A Prayer about Evident Gentleness  

Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. (Phil. 4:5 NIV)  

Dear Lord Jesus, there is no one more gentle with me than you. There is no one as welcoming of sinners, as kind to the broken, or as understanding of the struggling as you. You are gentle, yet persistent; gentle, yet firm; gentle, yet so very powerful. 

You’re like the perfect surgeon— the one I want working on me. You never get nervous, flustered, agitated, or hurried. You have a steady hand because of your steady heart. Oh, how I need you to do ongoing gospel surgery on me if I’m going to be a true gentle man— someone whose gentleness is evident to all, and not just evident to the people who are so easy for me to be with. 

Gentle me when I’m behind slow drivers who stay in the fast lane. Gentle me when I face both fair and unfair criticism. Gentle me when I think things that are obvious to me ought to be obvious to everybody else. Gentle me when loud, boorish people invade “my” space— as though I have some inalienable right to an uninterrupted life. 

Gentle me when I’m too tired to engage but my wife really needs me to listen. Gentle me when I need a nap but my grandson needs to play. Gentle me when someone gets the last cookie I was already planning on enjoying with a glass of milk. Gentle me when my plans are disrupted because it’s too humid to run. 

Gentle me when the vacation gets cut short by crises. Gentle me when friends keep making the same mistakes and foolish choices. Gentle me when the restaurant sends me home with the wrong take out order. Gentle me when Satan starts condemning me for things I actually did but for which you already paid my debt. 

Gentle me when I start debating theology rather than loving the people who see things differently. Gentle me when I cannot fix the very people you never gave me to fix. 

Jesus, you are so near me in the gospel; in fact, you live in my heart. You’re also near in terms of coming back to finish making all things new. May your nearness generate a much quicker repentance on my part. Make me a gentle man by the gospel and for your glory. I pray in your kind and loving name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Being a Refreshing Friend  

May the Lord grant mercy to the household of One siphorus, for he often refreshed me and was not ashamed of my chains, but when he arrived in Rome he searched for me earnestly and found me. (2 Tim. 1:16–17)  

Dear Jesus, One siphorus is just one of many of my brothers and sisters I’ll have to wait till heaven to meet. Being married to you has placed me in a most amazing family, and like every other family, it’s a broken family filled with broken people. But like no other family, it’s a family with a guaranteed future of whole people and perfect relationships beyond all imaginings (1 Cor. 2:9). I praise you for paying the supreme price of your life to secure such an unimaginable eternity for your bride. 

But here’s one of my brothers I’d like to be a lot more like before we meet. Though One siphorus’s name literally means “bringing profit,” he didn’t have to live that way. He could have been self absorbed, hypercritical, a record keeper of wrongs done, a quarrelsome type, real sensitive, taking everything way too personally. In short, he could have been a real drain to be around. But instead he was a source of refreshment, and according to Paul, he worked hard at it. 

Jesus, make me a much more refreshing person. Fill my heart with your mercy. Give me gospel eyes to see others as you see them. Sensitize my spirit with your Spirit. Free me from working hard just to get my to do list done, that I might work hard at bringing refreshment to others. 

Jesus, please make me aware today of those who really need encouragement, some reason to hope, a concrete manifestation of care. It may be at the price of an airline ticket to find them. It may simply be a walk across the street, a drive across town, a face-to-face visit, a hug, a call, an email, a text— some small thing that will bring a profit beyond my imagining. 

Jesus, you searched hard to find me and you did. You’ve broken my chains and you’ve borne my shame. May I offer a refreshing taste of your kindness to others today, no matter what their chains are. I pray in your loving and liberating name. 

Amen. 

A Prayer about Our Stuff  

Do not toil to acquire wealth;
be discerning enough to desist.
When your eyes light on it, it is gone,
for suddenly it sprouts wings,
flying like an eagle toward heaven. (Prov. 23:4–5)

Loving Father, this has been a crazy and stressful season in our economy. Some of us who thought we’d be retired in a couple of years are now thinking it’s ten, if at all. Some of us have lost jobs, even homes. Some of us are selling stuff, having stuff repossessed, having to move; some of our marriages are being stressed to the point of ending; and some of us are being tempted to steal for the first time. Others of us are holding tighter to our stuff than ever and are exerting great energy just to get more. Lord, we need wisdom for ourselves and for our friends. 

Father, though the issues vary and we dare not generalize, bring the perspective of the gospel to bear as we think about our relationship to “stuff.” Where have we assumed the right to excess? Why did we think only first century disciples of Jesus would ever actually have to pray for daily bread? Where have we gotten used to a lifestyle of having so much stuff to the point that we actually call abundance “need”? 

In our “i World” of new gadgets and cool widgets, help us to ponder the reality that over half of the population on the earth exists on three of our American dollars, or less, a day. Father, help us only to glance at riches rather than setting our gaze on them. Give us restraint, Lord Jesus. Holy Spirit, if we would wear ourselves out for anything, let it be to become rich toward God (Luke 12:20–21)— to have the gospel so penetrate our hearts that we cry out with spontaneous joy, “Who do I have in heaven but you, O Lord, and being with you I desire nothing on the earth . . . You are my portion, sovereign Lord.” 

Lord Jesus, you who were outrageously rich in all things became incomprehensibly poor for us, so that we, who were desperately poor in sin, might be made immeasurably rich in grace. I pray in your most enriching and liberating name. 

Amen. 

A Prayer about Interpreting Prophecy 

As soon as you [Daniel] began to pray, a word went out, which I have come to tell you, for you are highly esteemed. Therefore, consider the word and understand the vision: “Seventy ‘sevens’ are decreed for your people and your holy city to finish transgression, to put an end to sin, to atone for wickedness, to bring in everlasting righteousness, to seal up vision and prophecy and to anoint the Most Holy Place.”
(Dan. 9:23–24 NIV) 

And he said to them, “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself. (Luke 24:25–27)  

Lord Jesus, every time I read certain prophetic sections of the Old Testament, like this one in Daniel, I get flashbacks of big charts, bombastic preachers, and a bevy of fears. As a young believer in the late 1960’s to early 1970’s, I was convinced ours was the terminal generation. Surely you were going to come back within a few years. The political climate was perfect for the last of the last antichrists to emerge. 

All things 666 were eschewed— credit cards, phone numbers, driver’s licenses. The truth is, we gave the antichrist more credit than Satan himself. The egregious truth is, some of us spent more time fearing the antichrist than really getting to know you, the Christ! 

Jesus, I grieve that I didn’t know how to look for you in all the Scriptures, and therefore in all of history and life. You who’ve given me more than seventy times seven worth of forgiveness (Matt. 18:22) are best qualified to help me understand Daniel’s seventy sevens and every other prophecy, simple or complex. 

Whatever else is going on in this portion of Daniel, this I know for sure: Jesus, only you will one day put an end to all sin. Jesus, only in you can perfect and complete atonement for sin be found. Jesus, only you will one day usher in a world of everlasting righteousness—the new heaven and new earth (Rev. 21:1–5). Only you could seal up vision and prophecy, because you’re the last Word from God the Father (Heb. 1:1–2) and the yes and amen to all of God’s promises (2 Cor. 1:20). 

Only you could fulfill every symbol and stick of furniture in the Holy of Holies and make a way for us to enter there (Heb. 10:19–22). 

Only you, Jesus, are worthy of our adoration, affection, attention, and allegiance— only you! I pray in your most glorious and gracious name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Music in God’s Ears  

I hate, I despise your feasts, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them; and the peace offerings of your fattened animals, I will not look upon them. Take away from me the noise of your songs; to the melody of your harps I will not listen. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
(Amos 5:21–24)  

Holy Father, these are some very strong words about worship and what really amounts to “music to your ears.” But you never get “in my face” except to drive me into more of your grace. Such is the beauty of the relationship you’ve established with me in Jesus. Such is the purpose of your “life-giving correction” (Prov. 15:31 NIV). 

Meditating on this Scripture leads me to these conclusions, convictions, and petitions. First and foremost, it’s quite possible for me to thoroughly enjoy a service of worship— the liturgy, the Lord’s Supper, the music—and yet the same service might truly grieve you. Conversely, there are probably services I exit bored, critical, and “uninspired,” and yet in these services you find great delight and pleasure. Forgive me when I make my experience the measure of the acceptability of your worship. How arrogant of me. 

Father, it’s also obvious that “justice rolling like a river” and “righteousness flowing like a never-failing stream” is music in your ears— the kind of “praise songs” you really enjoy, a hymnody for which you long, the “new worship music” that’s “new creation” new, and not just novel or noise in your ears. 

Forgive me when the new song of the gospel does not lead me to a new life of caring for others. Forgive me when the satisfaction of being in your presence does not lead me to the sacrifice of serving in the community. Forgive me when I can be just as disconnected and merciless as the priest or the Levite in the parable of the Good Samaritan, who enjoyed your real presence and then proceeded to ignore real need (Luke 10:25–37). 

Lord Jesus, you were the Good Samaritan to me, and you still are. But you didn’t just find me beaten and broken alongside the road; you found me running as fast as I could from you. I know God and worship God only because you first cared for me, served me, loved me by giving your life for me. Make me a humble, grateful, joyful worship servant. I pray to your glory and by your grace.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Eggshell Walkin’  

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. (Col. 3:12–14 NIV)

Merciful Jesus, I don’t think there’s any passage in any translation of the Bible that uses the image of “walking on eggshells” to describe one of the ways we broken sinners often relate to one another. But I’m glad there’s repentance and grace for this and every other sou sucking, crazy making relational dance. We are people made for deep intimacy and selfless caring, but sin sure has done a number on our relationships. 

Here’s my prayer, Jesus: as someone chosen in you before the world began, holy in you, and dearly loved by you, help me realize when others experience me as a minefield of irritability, or a self-righteous porcupine, or a rigid control meister. I don’t want to be the kind of person who makes others feel the need to tiptoe around or avoid me. Through the resources of the gospel, help me to see, own, and deal with the things that make it easy for people not to feel at ease in my company. 

My need doesn’t stop there, Jesus. I’m also guilty of being on the other end of this broken style of relating— of treating others as too fragile or too dangerous to handle feedback or conflict. When I fall into this pattern, it simply reveals how little of your love I’m currently enjoying and how little of the power of the gospel is presently at work in my life. 

Jesus, you’ve forgiven me everything. You forbear with me through all things. Never let me forget this for a nanosecond. Daily, sometimes hourly, remind me to put on the garments of your grace: kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. 

Along with a lot of my friends, I long for the day of complete wholeness and health, when every one of my relationships will reflect the joy, peace, and intimacy of the Trinity. Until that day, give more grace to these yet to be glorified hearts of ours, Jesus. I pray in your kind and persistent name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Jesus’ Longing to Be Gracious to Us 

This is what the Sovereign Lord,
the Holy One of Israel, says:
“In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength,
but you would have none of it.
You said, ‘No, we will flee on horses.’
Therefore you will flee! You said,
‘We will ride off on swift horses.’
Therefore your pursuers will be swift! . . .
till you are left like a flagstaff on a mountaintop,
like a banner on a hill.”
Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you;
therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.
For the Lord is a God of justice.
Blessed are all who wait for him! (Isa. 30:15–18 NIV)

Dear Jesus, it’s a great joy to begin this day knowing you long to be gracious to us. The way you care for your people is simply irresistible, and yet, foolishly, we do resist. 

There are times when “riding off on swift horses” looks like a great option— when the demands upon us seem to far outweigh the resources with us; when we reach our emotional limits and exhaust our mental reserves; when tiredness gives way to “attitude” and patience gives way to pettiness. Even then, you woo us to yourself— especially then, we need you. 

The call to repentance and rest, and quietness and trust, comes to us like a kiss from heaven. Jesus, we find great comfort in your pursuing love. 

I need, again, to learn my limits. Help me say yes to the right things and no to the unnecessary things, Jesus. Help me reestablish the rhythms of a gospel-driven life. 

I repent of letting needs dictate my pace. I repent of trying to be my own savior, yet again. I repent of doing more things for you than spending unrushed time with you. I repent of listening to the squawking voices of human parakeets more than the comforting voice of the blessed Paraclete—God the Holy Spirit. 

Jesus, as you rise to show us compassion, we will sit down, shut up, be still, and let you. We pray with great anticipation, in your merciful and mighty name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about a Well-Used Mouth  

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. (Eph. 4:29–30 NIV)  

Glorious Triune God— Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—I praise you for the incalculable riches of redemption you’ve lavished on us in the gospel. Father, for planning such a stunning salvation; Jesus, for accomplishing all things necessary for our complete salvation; Holy Spirit, for faithfully applying the work of Jesus to us. I wish I had adequate words to express my gratitude, but my words fail me. 

That being said, I don’t want my words to fail you, gracious God. You spoke the Word that gave life to my dead spirit— giving me both the will and the wherewithal to believe the gospel. Forgive me when I speak words, or even think words, that have the opposite effect on others, bringing discouragement, decay, even death. 

Holy Spirit, you faithfully preach the gospel to my heart— incessantly telling me that I’m a beloved child of God. Continue to so fill my heart with the beauty of Jesus that, like Balaam’s donkey, I cannot help but offer blessings to others. Train my heart and tongue in gospel speak. Make me fluent in the vocabulary of heaven. Convict me quickly when my words are poorly chosen or intentionally hurtful or there are simply too many of them. 

You’ve sealed me for the day of redemption. I don’t want to sadden or grieve you by a foolish and hurtful misuse of words. I’m called to build up, not tear down. You study my needs and speak only helpful words to my heart. Educate me in the needs of my family and friends that I might likewise speak only words of encouragement and hope— even when that requires saying the hard things. 

Lord Jesus, we praise you for taking the Father’s word of final judgment on the cross, that we might hear him speak the words of complete welcome and acceptance in our hearts. I pray in your holy and loving name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about the Paradox of Weakness  

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Cor. 12:9–10)  

Heavenly Father, as I meditate on these words of Paul, I vacillate between feelings of anger and relief, for as a young follower of Jesus, I wasn’t taught to delight in weakness but rather to despise weakness, to deny weakness, to demonize weakness, to dethrone weakness. That’s why I totally understand Martin Luther’s statement that “bad theology is the worst taskmaster of all.” For I’ve suffered much under the merciless whip of several gospel distortions. 

It was all about “the victorious Christian life”: overcoming and not under- achieving, kind of like having a type A personality on spiritual steroids. I didn’t think in terms of sufficient grace, I wanted replacement grace— getting rid of any- thing unpleasant in my life. 

Thank you, Father, for rescuing me from this and other misrepresentations of life in Christ. Thank you for the godly men and women you’ve brought into my life over the years, the humble and courageous servants of Jesus who’ve helped me understand the true riches of the gospel and the way of the cross. Increase their tribe, Lord; increase their tribe.

Father, I know I’m not to be defined by my weakness and brokenness, but I realize more than ever, that’s where Jesus meets me. I have no ability to change my heart. I very much want your power to rest on me. I very much need for your power to rest on me. I am desperate for all the sufficient grace you will give me.

As you continue to humble and gentle my heart, greatly increase my compassion toward others in their weakness and brokenness. Forgive my irritation, impatience, and avoidance of people whose need is much greater than my supply. 

What a wonderful, merciful Savior you are, Jesus. Indeed, it was because you embraced the weakness of the cross that I can gladly boast in the weaknesses of my life and the more than sufficient supply of your grace. What a most profound, liberating, and hope filled paradox. I pray in your holy and loving name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Jesus’ Transforming Love  

If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and com- passion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. (Phil. 2:1–4 NIV)  

Dear Lord Jesus, still sipping my first cup of coffee, I awake this day celebrating a great night’s rest. Even as you gave me sleep last night, you gave to me in my sleep. You never sleep or slumber. You ever live to advocate and pray for your beloved bride. While we were catching z’s, you were making us like yourself. There is no one like you, O Lord, no one. 

How I long for the day when my heart will not even be tempted to share its adoration and affection with any other suitor or wannabe savior. Hasten that day, but until that day, keep changing me in ways that empower me to love well. Since the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself in love, I boldly ask for greater impressions of your love upon my heart. How else will I consider others better than myself? How else will I love my wife, my children, my friends, my church family, and strangers as you’re calling me to love them? 

So, Jesus, what encouragement do I have from being united to you, and what comfort do I find in your love? More than can be measured! It means that the Father loves me as much as he loves you, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t add to it or take away from it. It means that all of my sins— past, present, and future— are forgiven. It means that I’m enveloped in your righteousness, already declared to have passed from judgment to life. It means I’m guaranteed, one day, to be as lovely and as loving as you are. It means all these things and many more. 

It means I can love people and not expect them to give me what you alone can supply. It means I can serve people and not hold them hostage to my selfish ambition and vain conceit. It means I can become more intrigued than irritated with others, more restful than rigid in their presence, more caring than critical of them. Indeed, Jesus, I want to love to your glory, by your grace. I pray in your merciful and magnificent name.

Amen.