Category: November

A Prayer about My Dad’s Welcome Home  

I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far.
(Phil. 1:23 NIV) 

We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. (2 Cor. 5:8 NIV)  

Dear Jesus, I already had so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving season, but now you’ve upped the ante considerably; you’ve fueled the furnace of my gratitude; you’ve added grace upon grace. I praise you that my dad finally knows the “better by far” of being with you. As of last night, he’s gone from that ninety-one-year-old, Alzheimer’s-invaded body and is free at last. He’s at home with you. What more could I possibly want for my dad? Hallelujah, the gospel is true! 

No more of my dad looking at me with kind eyes but with a clueless expression about who I am or even what the word son means. No more loss of dignity and no more limits on delight; no more grabbing for a thought or gasping for a breath; no more confinements, confusion, or cares about anything; no more wandering around, just the wonder of your glory and the fullness of your grace. Hallelujah, the gospel is true! 

Jesus, though my dad and I were never able to carry on deep conversations about you or engage in meaty biblical and theological discussions, right now he knows more about you than I ever dreamed was knowable. He’s experiencing the promised “more than all we ask or imagine” (Eph. 3:20 NIV), while I still have to ask and try to imagine. Everything I know about your beauty and bounty can fit into a thimble, with room left over, compared to what my dad now knows to be true about you. Hallelujah, the gospel is true! 

Jesus, knowing he’s with you also thrills me to think about the company he’s now keeping— the fellowship dad is enjoying. I love the thought of my dad and mom seeing each other again after forty-nine years. Indeed, to be present with you is to be present with everybody else in heaven. My dad is in heaven not because he was a good man (though he was) but because you are a great Savior. Hallelujah, the gospel is true! 

I make my prayer with great thanks, in your merciful and mighty name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Gospelicious Friends  

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. (Phil. 1:3–6 NIV)  

Heavenly Father, it’s Thanksgiving, and of all the things I’m grateful for, I’m especially thankful today for the women and men you’ve used over the years to bring me into a greater understanding and experience of the gospel. 

I praise you for friends who’ve helped me understand the lyric of the gospel— theology. As a young convert my arrogant mantra was, “Don’t give me theology, just give me Jesus.” My sentiments were good, but my sensibilities were shoddy. To speak the name Jesus is to do theology. Thank you for patient teachers who have opened the Scriptures and have shown me the real Jesus— the one who lived and died in my place and who is making all things new.

I praise you for friends who’ve helped me hear and experience the music of the gospel. For those broken and beautiful saints who have helped me get a taste of the radical goodness of the gospel—its life giving liberty, its healing melody, its soul engaging joy— I praise you, Father. Now I know you to be a God who greatly delights in your people, who quiets us with his love, who rejoices over us with singing. This is astonishing, even shocking, and it’s all because of what Jesus has done for us.

I praise you for friends who’ve been modeling the missional dance of the gospel for me. It’s encouraging and challenging to discover the whole world as the dance floor of grace. Father, you created all things and you are redeeming all things, and when you get wild prodigals and stuffy elder brothers into your dance of the gospel, you take the dance outside of the house into our neighborhoods and among the nations. Thank you for my dance instructors. 

Lord Jesus, you crushed the head of the serpent for us, and you will soon crush him under our own feet (Rom. 16:20). The gospel of the kingdom is infiltrating and transforming every sphere of life, and our future is so far beyond all that we can ask or imagine. On this Thanksgiving morning, I am most of all thankful for you, for you are the gospel. I pray in your glorious name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Running after the Wrong Things  

So do not worry, saying, “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “What shall we wear?” For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. (Matt. 6:31–33 NIV)  

Lord Jesus, this is one early morning I don’t feel alone at all. From where I’m seated, I can already see streams of cars heading for the stores and malls, and it’s only 4:00 in the morning! They call it Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving— a day when your words about “running after all these things” really come to life. 

People will be pushing against doors, running up aisles, and grabbing for items. They’ll act like famished people who haven’t eaten in weeks with manners that would usually embarrass most grandmothers— except today, because the grandmothers are right there with them. 

Jesus, I’m not sitting here smugly judging anyone, for there’s no one, by nature, more greedy or grabby than me. I thank you that I live in a time and place of abundance. I thank you I’ve never had to be concerned about what I’ll eat, drink, or wear. I even thank you that many people will enjoy fine savings and get real bargains today. 

But on this Black Friday, I’m especially grateful for Good Friday and what you accomplished on the cross. It’s only because of you, Jesus, that I know God as Abba, Father— who knows my every need, who answers before I ask, who gives me all things richly to enjoy, who satisfies my hunger, slakes my thirst, and clothes me. Lord Jesus, to be clothed in your righteousness, to feast upon you as the Bread of Life, to drink the living water you alone can give—I am a wealthy man beyond all accounting.

In this next season of our lives, show us, Jesus, how to seek your kingdom first, above everything else. Rather than spending more money on ourselves, where would you have us invest our time, talent, and treasure; our energy, tears, and laughter? What new chapters of your story of redemption and restoration would you write through us? We pray with gratitude and anticipation, in your loving name. 

Amen. 

A Prayer about “Seventy Times Seven” Forgiveness  

Then Peter came up and said to him [Jesus], “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say seven times, but seventy times seven.” (Matt. 18:21–22) 

Jesus, I’m sure I’ve read this story at least seventy-seven times since the day you rescued me from the dominion of darkness and planted me in your kingdom of grace. But I need to keep on reading it, because forgiveness is as daily as breathing, eating, and sleeping. 

I know I sin against you in thought, word, and deed, every hour of every day. Jesus, I also know that you’ve already forgiven all of my sins, past, present, and future. Such is the wonder of the gospel. 

When I confess my sins and ask your forgiveness, I don’t get more or new forgiveness. I humble myself and appropriate the forgiveness that you’ve already given me. Jesus, you’re not informed by my confession of sin. You know it’s a lot worse than I realize. You also know that your grace and forgiveness are far more abounding and thorough than I realize. 

Where can greater riches be found? That’s the most rhetorical question I can imagine. Nothing compares with the treasures we’ve received in the gospel. Jesus, right now I confess how much I take your forgiveness for granted. I recognize this because there are a few “seventy times seven” forgiveness scenarios that are gnawing away at my peace and nibbling on my joy like tiny piranha. 

I’ve forgiven seven times, but now I want them to pay; I want to be smug; I want to retreat into self-righteousness; I want to gossip and tell others not to trust those who have hurt me. In short, Jesus, I am a mess. I needed to write these feelings out so I could see just how ugly my heart can be. 

Here’s my cry: come, Holy Spirit, come; apply the power of the gospel to my heart today. Slay the wicked servant in me. Humble me, gentle me, settle me, focus me, free me. Love in me and through me, for the glory of God. I pray in Jesus’ perfectly holy and forgiving name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about My Restless, Antsy Heart  

Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth! (Ps. 46:10)

Heavenly Father, I don’t have “ants in my pants,” but I am antsy. I don’t have “restless leg syndrome,” but I do have a restless heart. That’s why the command to be still and know that you are God comes like a kiss from heaven. Please bring the settling and centering power of the gospel to bear, for my sake and the benefit of those around me. 

I’m not sure what all’s going on inside of me. I haven’t been able to identify all the issues, but I know I’m not as peaceful, quiet, or trusting as I want to be or as you intend. 

When I get in this anxious, edgy, squirmy place, I usually run to my control idols. I try to micromanage the chaos— and whoever and whatever else is in sight. I start acting either like an orphan or like the fourth member of the Trinity, vacillating between fear and arrogance. I cannot remember a time when that ever led to anything good. Usually it just makes other people wary and weary of being around me, especially members of my family.

So I humble myself before you, loving Father. I come boldly to an occupied throne of grace, throwing down my plastic scepter and presumption about being in control. You who will be exalted among the nations, be exalted in my heart, my day, my circumstances. 

Lord Jesus, take captive my roaming thoughts. As you spoke and stilled the tossing waves for nervous disciples, speak and still my disquieted emotions— even if nothing or no one around me changes. As you harnessed the power of the wind, harness the passions of my will, that I might obey the gospel of grace. I pray in your mighty and merciful name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Overflowing Gratitude  

So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. (Col. 2:6–7 NIV)  

Lord Jesus, I want to be a man who gives you the quality and quantity of thanks of which you are so absolutely worthy. Not like a slow drip, a babbling brook, or a meandering stream, but like a geyser— a gospel geyser. I want to overflow with thankfulness, to the praise of your glory and grace! 

I have every reason to be like the healed Samaritan leper, who with a stunned heart and irrepressible gratitude returned to give you heartfelt thanks (Luke 17:11– 17). I return today, and I want to return every day, to express my profound thankfulness. 

From the first nanosecond I was given faith to receive you as Savior and Lord, I was fully and firmly rooted in your righteousness and love. Now, completely for- given, I have no other righteousness than yours. Just as I cannot add one iota to your righteousness, I can never, ever be separated from your love, and your love alone is better than life. You have already set me free from the penalty of sin, you are continually setting me free from the power of sin, and one day you will set me free from the very presence of sin.

Jesus, I want to live in you, reflecting upon your glory with an unveiled face and marinating in the riches of your unfailing grace. I want to be built up in you, maturing by the same grace that saved me, being liberated for the race that you’ve set be- fore me. I want to be strengthened in you, forgiving others as you have forgiven me, forbearing with others as you forbear with me, accepting others as you accept me.

Lord Jesus, I would love to be done with all carping and droning, with all whining and complaining, with all boohooing and Eeyoring, and with every other expression of ingratitude. So rise up in me, O living water, unto eternal life. Artesian spring of grace, come forth with such compelling and propelling force that my thanks will be not miserly but geyserly. I pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Crouching, Pouncing Sin  

The Lord said to Cain, “Why are you angry, and why has your face fallen? If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is for you, but you must rule over it.” (Gen. 4:6–7)

Lord Jesus, I’m always vulnerable to the destructive power of sin, but it seems like I’m especially vulnerable when there’s some kind of emotional upheaval in my heart. Like Cain, when I’m angry and sulking about something or someone, I can be easily “had” by sin, giving in to its desire— its seductive and destructive ways. I wish there was no such thing as “the fleeting pleasures of sin.” (Heb. 11:25)

Jesus, thank you for pursuing me today and asking me questions like, “Why are you angry?” “Why are you so sad?” “What are you afraid of?” and “Why are you so quiet and distant?” Though you know the answers to these and every question you ask, I need to think about these things. Show me my heart, Jesus. 

I wish I had to think about only the sin that’s crouching just outside my door— the tempter and temptress without, just waiting to pounce. But the truth is, Jesus, until you return to finish making all things new, I’ve got to be wise to the sin that’s crouching inside of me as well. Like Paul, the very things I don’t want to do, I still do, and the very things I want to do, they’re not easily done (Rom. 7).

I long for more freedom to live and to love as I am loved by you, Jesus. How I praise you that there’s no condemnation hanging over me for my sin, for you hung on the cross in my place.

How I praise you that to be tempted is not an act of sin, for even you, Jesus, were tempted. I would despair if this were not the case. You’ve mastered sin for us, Jesus. You’ve exhausted its penalty and broken its power. Sin will not have dominion over us ever again.

In this good news, in this gospel, I trust today. As you show me my vulnerable heart, Jesus, show me your compassionate and loving heart ten times over. That will more than meet my need. I pray in your strong, present, and redeeming name. 

Amen. 

A Prayer about Second-Coming Loving  

The end of all things is at hand; therefore be self-controlled and sober-minded for the sake of your prayers. Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace. (1 Pet. 4:7–10)  

Dear Jesus, may Peter’s words sink and settle deep into my heart. If I really believed “the end of all things is at hand,” if I really believed your return could happen with- in my lifetime, it seems it would make a significant difference in how I live and love.

Whenever I attend a funeral, I always go away with a sense of my mortality and the fragility of life. At least for a few days, I hug loved ones a little tighter and linger a little longer in conversations. But then it’s “back to normal,” and the same old harried pace takes over and the same old broken patterns in relationships resume. 

Normal sinners go on loving as normal sinners do: rather than covering sins, we get irritated with one another’s sins; rather than welcoming one another without grumbling, we guard our own space with complaining; rather than using your gifts to serve each other, we hoard your gifts to satisfy ourselves; rather than administering your multifaceted grace to one another, we withhold it from one another. Yet “the end of all things is at hand.” God, have mercy on me, the sinner. 

Jesus, please bring the gospel to bear in fresh and powerful ways in my way of relating to others. I don’t want to love by guilt but by grace. I don’t want to love by fear but by faith. I don’t want to love with a heart of manipulation but with a heart of ministry. I don’t want to love with a view to another funeral but with a view of your second coming. I don’t want to love to get anything but because I’ve received everything in you. 

Jesus, you’re the one who loves us deeply. You’re the one who has covered not just a multitude but all of our sins. You’re the one who always offers us hospitality without grumbling. You’re the one who’s always serving us and giving us more grace in all its forms. Live in us and love through us, whether you return in fifteen minutes or fifteen hundred years. We pray in your faithful name.

Amen. 

A Prayer for Marriages  

For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ does the church, because we are members of his body. “Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall be- come one flesh.” This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church. (Eph. 5:29–32)

Lord Jesus, I’m greatly saddened about the growing number of my friends who are disconnected, despairing, or dying in their marriages. I’m saddened, but not shocked, for two reasons. 

It makes complete sense that the powers of darkness would assault the one relationship meant to tell the story of your great love for your bride. Of course marriage is going to be a war zone— the front lines of spiritual warfare until the day you return. Satan hates you, he hates the gospel, and therefore he hates your bride and he hates marriage. 

But knowing my own heart also decreases the shock factor. Like most of us, I came into marriage with a little gospel and big naïveté. I had no clue about the depths of my brokenness, the degree of my selfishness, or the devices of my sinfulness. I had no clue about what it would take to love one person well the rest of my life— a person who needs the gospel just as much as I do. 

And I certainly had no clue that your love alone is better than life; that your love alone can slake the deepest thirst of my heart; that your love alone can provide the depths of intimacy I crave and for which I’ve been made; that your love alone can free me to love another sinful spouse the way you love me as your spouse— for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, forgiving and forbearing, accepting without acquiescing, doing the hard and heart work of the gospel. 

Jesus, I pray for my friends, and I pray for myself. Protect us from the evil one, and rescue us from ourselves. Give hope to the hopeless, conviction to the foolish, nourishment to the famished, grace to the betrayed, and godly sorrow to the betrayers. I pray sobered yet expectant, in your loving and powerful name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about the Radical Generosity of Grace  

We want you to know, brothers, about the grace of God that has been given among the churches of Macedonia, for in a severe test of affliction, their abundance of joy and their extreme poverty have over flowed in a wealth of generosity on their part. For they gave according to their means, as I can testify, and beyond their means, of their own accord, begging us earnestly for the favor of taking part in the relief of the saints— and this, not as we expected, but they gave them- selves first to the Lord and then by the will of God to us. (2 Cor. 8:1–5)

Heavenly Father, we come before you today challenged by this picture of radical grace. This one story alone underscores why we can never emphasize your grace too much. Grace is never to be counterbalanced with law, only multiplied with more grace. Indeed, through Jesus you continue to give us grace upon grace (John 1:16).

What an amazing story— the severely afflicted and extremely poor Christians of Macedonia became a model of radical generosity to the much wealthier believers in Corinth. And according to you, their motivation wasn’t fear and guilt; it was plied grace. For you love cheerful giving, not reluctant giving compelled by pres- sure from without. (2 Cor. 9:7)

Father, only your grace is powerful enough to give us abundant joy in the absence of affluence, coupled with hearts that beg to give sacrificially beyond our means for the benefit of strangers! The law cannot produce that kind of people— not even grace plus law, but only grace upon grace. 

For the glory of Jesus and the advancing of your kingdom, we ask you to give us the same grace you gave the churches of Macedonia. The needs all around us are exponential, but your resources are endless. Indeed, help us to excel in the grace of giving. For you are “able to make all grace abound to [us], so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, [we] can abound in every good work” (2 Cor. 9:8). Enrich us in every way that we might be generous in every way (2 Cor. 9:11)— with our time, talents, and treasures, and with great forbearance and extravagant forgiveness. 

Jesus, you are the ultimate cheerful giver. That is what the gospel is all about. Though you were rich, you gladly became poor for us, that by your poverty we might become joyfully rich through you (2 Cor. 8:9). Make your gladness ours. Make your generosity ours. We pray in your great and gracious name.

Amen.