Category: September

A Prayer for Those of Us Who Still Need a Doctor  

Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” (Mark 2:17 NIV)  

Gracious Jesus, we often read this text looking in the rearview mirror, as though we no longer need your medicinal care— as though we only used to be big sinners needing the Great Physician to heal us. How we wish that were the whole diagnosis. 

We’re thrilled you’ve already given us the perfect and permanent “health” of justification. We cannot and will not ever be more justified than we already are in you, Jesus. We’ve been completely healed of our cancerous and condemning guilt. The gospel is our declaration of a clean bill of righteousness health. In that sense, we’re no longer a sick sinner— but only in that sense. 

For the more of your beauty we behold in the Scriptures, Jesus, the more fully the gravity of our condition is revealed. We need you today as much as the first moment you called us from death to life. You’re the only doctor with the mercy and might sufficient for our many, many needs. 

Jesus, as you’ve freed us from the guilt of our sin, please heal us more fully from its shame. Few maladies in this fallen world hold greater debilitating power than shame. We cannot love others well if we’re living with the dark paralysis of shame. 

We’re not asking for greater self-esteem. We’ve not victims making excuses but your beloved bride crying out for greater gospel health. 

Jesus, as you’ve totally freed us from the penalty of our sin, please heal us more fully of its pillaging power. For our mind, emotions, and will have been pervasively infected with sin. 

Heal our thinking from the ever-present disease of unbelief— a congenital condition that affects everything we do. Transform us by the renewing of our minds, Jesus. Grant us a greater measure of gospel sanity. We want to think your thoughts. We want your mind to be in us (Phil. 2:1–11). 

Heal our emotions from the malignancy of self-interest. We want godly anger, not destructive pouting. We want gospel joy, not circumstantial happiness. We want sadness born from a heart of mercy, not melancholy born from simply not getting our way. 

Heal our choosing of selfishness, stubbornness, and demandingness. Jesus, may your will be our bread and your glory be our portion.

Jesus, we are so thankful for the coming day of our completed healing (Rev. 21:1–22:5). Until that day, continue to make us healthier by your grace and Spirit. We pray in your holy and healing name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Tarshish Looking Good  

The word of the Lord came to Jonah son of Amittai: “Go to the great city of Nineveh and preach against it, because its wickedness has come up before me.” But Jonah ran away from the Lord and headed for Tarshish. He went down to Joppa, where he found a ship bound for that port. After paying the fare, he went aboard and sailed for Tarshish to flee from the Lord. (Jon. 1:1–3 NIV)

Jesus, Tarshish is looking pretty good to me today, and it wouldn’t be very hard to buy a ticket to start sailing in that direction. As I start my day, I’m more aware of the demands of the gospel than the delights of the gospel. That’s not news to you, but it’s good for me just to “get it out there.” If I could offer you only selective obedience, there’d be no problem. But you are asking me to go to some places and some people I’d just as soon not see till heaven.

I understand Jonah’s struggle, but more importantly, you understand mine. No one has wrestled with doing the will of God more than you, Jesus. No one has been more honest about the price of obedience. No one counted the cost more carefully than you. You sweat blood; I sweat only water. You were thinking about the great needs of others; I’m thinking primarily about me and how much I want a hassle-free, mess-free, conflict-free life.

This is why it’s so easy for me to come to you today without editing my feelings, repackaging my angst, or spinning my thoughts: because I’m one of those people you were thinking about as you prepared to go to the cross. As you cried out, “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing,” you had me in view. As you crushed the head of the serpent, you had me in mind. As you were raised from the dead, you had me in your heart. When you spoke the words to Mary, “Don’t be afraid,” it wasn’t just for her benefit but for mine as well. 

Just talking to you this morning, I’m feeling better, Jesus. It’s not that all of a sudden I now want to go to Nineveh. But I am feeling a little less inclined to break in line at the ticket counter to pay my fare to Tarshish. Thank you for being so welcoming, patient, and understanding. 

Jesus, you paid our fare for a life in the new heaven and new earth, and you’ll walk with us every step of the way and be with us every moment of the day until then. Even as I’m not thrilled about my current and future assignments to Nineveh, to know that you are with us and for us should be enough. Surprise me with the power of the gospel. Make my resigned heart into a willing and glad heart. I pray in your loving name.

Amen. 

A Prayer for Wrestling with the Sovereignty of God  

Who are you, a human being, to talk back to God? “Shall what is formed say to him who formed it, ‘Why did you make me like this?’” Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?
(Rom. 9:20–21 NIV)  

Gracious Father, this morning I’m pondering the mystery and mercy of your sovereignty, especially as I consider everything you did to redeem rebels and bro- ken people like me. The cross was no accident. It was you who handed over Jesus to wicked men, who put him to death by nailing him to the cross, all according to your set purpose and foreknowledge. (Acts 2:23–24)

Indeed, Jesus’ death for us on the cross was no accident, afterthought, plan B, or redeeming of a good story gone kaput. The comfort and peace I enjoy from this supreme demonstration of your sovereignty is incomparable and immeasurable. 

Lord Jesus, no one could’ve put you on the cross apart from your will, and though your own disciples tried, no one could have kept you from the cross. Be- cause of the forthcoming joy, you endured the cross for us— scorning its shame and exhausting our guilt (Heb. 12:1–3). We praise you for your incomparable gift. 

So Father, as much as I celebrate and find comfort in your sovereignty seen in Jesus’ cross, why do I struggle with it anywhere else? Why do I want to reverse roles to make me the potter and treat you like malleable clay? Why do I prefer at times to have a Play-Doh or Gumby God instead of a sovereign Father? 

I don’t have any problem with you setting up and sitting down presidents, premiers, and potentates. But when it comes to things that are limiting, inconvenient, or a contradiction of my sensibilities, I often question your goodness. Free me from such foolishness. You’re always at work for your glory and our good. 

Father, give me joy in simply being gospel pottery. You’ve placed the incredible treasure of Jesus in this jar of clay to prove your all-surpassing power in making all things new. You are the Potter who is redeeming a pan-national family to inhabit the new heaven and new earth. Let me be humble, grateful, and content with my place in that story. You truly do all things well. I pray in Jesus’ most glorious and sovereign name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Remembering God’s Forgetfulness  

“Their sins and lawless acts I will remember no more.” And where these have been forgiven, sacrifice for sin is no longer necessary.
(Heb. 10:17–18 NIV)  

Heavenly Father, what a heart-pounding joy it is to begin this day by remembering your forgetfulness. You promise never again to remember our sins and lawless acts against us. You will never again deal with us according to our sins or reward us according to our iniquities. For on the cross, you dealt with Jesus according to our sins and rewarded him according to our iniquities. 

But that’s not all, gracious Father. Because the gospel is true, you now deal with us according to Jesus’ righteousness and reward us according to his obedience. What an exchange! What a salvation! What a God! This is why I can pray back to you today these amazing words of hope and peace, written by German Christians in the sixteenth century:  

Question: How are you right with God?  

Answer: Only by true faith in Jesus Christ. Even though my conscience accuses me of having grievously sinned against all God’s commandments and of never having kept any of them, and even though I am still inclined toward all evil, nevertheless, without my deserving it at all, out of sheer grace, God grants and credits to me the perfect satisfaction, righteousness, and holiness of Christ, as if I had never sinned nor been a sinner, as if I had been as perfectly obedient as Christ was obedient for me. All I need to do is to accept this gift of God with a believing heart. (Heidelberg Catechism, Question and Answer 60)  

Father, thank you for such a legal, lavish, and lively salvation. Rescue us in those delusional moments when we forget your forgetfulness, when we act as though Jesus’ sacrifice for our sins wasn’t enough, when we think there is something more we can do to gain your acceptance and enjoy your favor. We pray in Jesus’ exalted name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Guaranteed Glory  

In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory. (Eph. 1:13–14)  

Gracious Father, sometimes reading Paul’s letters is like standing in front of a gushing fire hydrant. It’s hard to stand up to the rush of so much glory and grace. It’s simply overwhelming. 

For instance, as I read through Ephesians I’m confronted with being loved be- fore the foundation of the world, being chosen in Christ and called in life, being justified by faith and declared to be righteous, and being adopted by Abba, Father, betrothed to Jesus, and indwelt by the Holy Spirit. I’m shown that I have a completely forgiven past, a present standing in grace, and a future of unimaginable wonder. You’ve given us staggering riches in Jesus. 

But what really encourages me today is knowing that all of this is guaranteed. You’ve “sealed the deal” by the Holy Spirit. You’ve guaranteed our inheritance in Christ. You’ve given us the down payment, the first fruits, the promise of a future beyond our wildest dreams and asking. 

There’s no possibility of “bait and switch” or “revoking the warranty.” There are no factory recalls, no fine print or doublespeak, no possibility of bankruptcy or legal maneuverings. Nothing will sabotage your bringing to completion of the good work you’ve begun in us and in your entire cosmos! 

Father, rip and grip our hearts with the gospel of your grace. Let us be a people who live to the praise of your glorious grace. What else is there? What else could we possibly want to do with the rest of our lives and throughout eternity? We pray in Jesus’ glorious name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Nature-Speak  

The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.
Day to day pours out speech,
and night to night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words,
whose voice is not heard. (Ps. 19:1–3)

Glorious and gracious Father, as I pray this early morning, lightning is dancing across the skyline of the still dark dawn. Thunder is rumbling as the welcomed late summer showers fall. Soon you will start to paint our trees with the kaleidoscopic glory of the next season. 

Slow me down, Father. Slow me down in the coming days to savor nature’s declaration of your glory. I’ve been way too busy this summer, and I don’t want to waste the upcoming fall. Tune my ears to hear what you want to teach me about yourself through the things you have made. 

The pouring forth of nature-speak is endless, wondrous, and sumptuous— a visual, auditory, aromatic smorgasbord of delights. How can anyone with any degree of sensual awareness ponder creation and not worship you, the Creator of all things?

Father, you invented the sonic wonder of waves crashing on the shoreline. You created the mesmerizing sparkle in my grandson’s eyes. It was you who designed the Swiss Alps— irrepressible in their power to draw forth awe from my soul. You hand paint every trout in the world. You’re responsible for the permanent smile on the face of a dolphin. It’s you who put the crunch in toffee and the aroma in coffee. You gave the gift of melody to The Beatles and the gift of symphony to Beethoven. You are the envy of every artist who studies sunrises and sunsets, some of your best and most daily work. 

Topping everything you have done, it was you, Father, who gave Jesus for us. Not content just to be a magnificent Creator, you choose to be a merciful Redeemer. Oh, how we praise you . . . oh, how we praise you! We pray in Jesus’ peer- less name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about Asking for Forgiveness, without “Buts”  

Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy
blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
and cleanse me from my sin! (Ps. 51:1–2)

Loving Father, few things are as attractive as genuine humility. It’s like a five-course meal in a five-star bistro. When someone offers a contrite heart, takes responsibility for their failure, acknowledges the impact of their choice, asks to be for- given, and seeks to make restitution— there’s no restaurant on the face of the earth that can offer up more exquisite cuisine. 

Yet, Lord, when it comes to asking for forgiveness, too often I’m like a short- order cook in a fast-food drive-through. I hear myself saying things like, “I’m sorry, but you took what I said all wrong.” “I’m sorry, but if you weren’t so sensitive, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.” “I’m sorry, but if you understood what my last couple of weeks were like, you’d cut me some slack.” “I’m sorry, but you know what kind of home I grew up in. I didn’t get the ‘relationship chip.’” “I’m sorry, but that’s just your reality.”

Father, as I pore over your Word, I don’t see a single place where the phrase “I’m sorry, but” is celebrated as the vocabulary of genuine humility and loving well. Have mercy on me, indeed. May your unfailing love and great compassion free me from all “I’m sorry, buts.” Instead, I want to offer many more of these: “Will you forgive me?” “I can see I really hurt you. What do you need from me?” “Tell me more about how my words and actions made you feel.” “I’m genuinely sorry and I offer no qualifiers, just an apology.”

I know that in Jesus, all of my sins have already been forgiven—past, present, and future; sins of thought, word, and deed. May such good make it increasingly easier for me to humble myself and ask forgiveness of others and increasingly difficult for me to remain oblivious to how I impact others. I pray in Jesus’ merciful and mighty name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about the Obedience of Love  

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. (John 15:9–10)  

Jesus, there are times when just the right Scripture comes into view at just the right time. Today is just such a day. These words, your words, cut through my confusion and cut to the chase. Because you love me, I’m to obey you.

In my zeal to guard the gospel of grace— the good news that all our efforts, works, and obedience could never gain or maintain a relationship with you— I’ve been less clear about the place of obedience in the life of your children. But it’s really not complicated at all. 

The hardest part is to believe you actually love us as much as the Father loves you. How can you possibly love us with the same passion and delight you’ve en- joyed from the Father throughout eternity? Every time I ask you that question, you direct my gaze to the cross. Because you were obedient to death upon the cross, I can be certain of God’s love for me. 

Here’s where my obedience comes in. I’m to remain in your love by my obedience in the same way you remained in the Father’s love by your obedience. Obviously this doesn’t mean you earned his love, any more than I can earn your love. I can see how your obedience to the Father’s commands was a primary way of communing with him— of enjoying your relationship with him and bringing him great glory. You spoke of his will being your bread, and bread is a life-sustaining gift. 

May the same be true in my life, Jesus. Deepen my awareness of your love for me, even as you draw forth a more consuming and consistent obedience to your commands. Because the gospel is true, your commands are not burdensome to me. They are beautiful. They are bread. They are life. I have been saved by your obedience; be glorified by mine. I pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen. 

A Prayer about My Critical Spirit  

Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. (Matt. 7:1–2 NIV)  

Forbearing Jesus, I should’ve seen it coming. Just when I was starting to feel pretty self righteous about not being self-righteous, the serial killer inside of me woke up. 

My irritability factor has gone from a 3 to what feels like an 8 on a scale of 1 to 10. The telltale knots inside of me aren’t about nervousness, they’re about judgmentalism. It’s been easier catching people doing the wrong thing than affirming the many more things they do right. Once again, I’ve taken on the role of an Olympic judge with scorecards in hand, and I’m not giving out any 10’s.

God, have mercy on me, the sinner. I really mean that, Jesus. You have exhausted God’s judgment against all my sins upon the cross— the 4 percent I am aware of and the other 96 percent I am oblivious to as well. Who am I to judge your servants, your beloved? To you they answer, not to me. Jesus, you have called me to love others as you love me, not judge others with the judgment that has been entrusted to you alone.

Soften my heart today, Holy Spirit. Gentle my heart with your love, heavenly Father. Tenderize my heart with your grace, Lord Jesus. Indeed, it will take the whole Trinity to change someone like me. Bring the resources of the gospel to bear upon my grumpy heart. Bring the power that raised Jesus from the dead to bear upon my untamed tongue. Bring the hope of the new heaven and new earth to bear upon my impatient attitude. I pray in Jesus’ powerful name, with gratitude and expectancy.

Amen. 

A Prayer for Grace to Accept Change 

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. (Heb. 13:8)  

Dear Jesus, I really don’t like change. I like newness, excitement, and adventure, but when it’s all said and done, I love to come home to the normal and the predictable. My nostalgia for the known runs so deep—maybe teetering toward obsession at times. Grant me grace to accept change, because there’s so much change going on everywhere I look. 

Another freshly planted “For Sale” sign confirms old friends are moving away. A favorite tree, whose leaves gave the relief of shade and a vibrant tapestry of fall color, is taken down by a storm. The restaurant that served great food, rich conversation, and the ambiance of perpetual welcome had to close. I don’t like it, Jesus. Change is disruptive. Precious things don’t become vintage things overnight. 

How thankful we are that there’s one part of our lives that will never change, and that’s you, Jesus. You are the same yesterday, today, and forever. That certainly doesn’t make you predictable, and even less so manageable. But it does mean that we can trust you without any reservations whatsoever. In fact, it’s only in knowing you that change is put into perspective. 

The most fundamental change we need is to become like you, Jesus, and that process is the most disruptive and painful change we will ever go through. Yet with the knowledge that one day we’ll be as lovely and as loving as you, we gladly surrender to the work of the gospel in our lives. We learn to pray, “Lord, may it hurt so good, if growth will reveal your grace and glory in my life.” 

Likewise, Jesus, the better we know you, the more we come alive to your promise to make all things new. Change has no sovereignty. Only you are Lord. Nothing is random in this world. Nothing catches you off guard. The scary becomes the sacred when we’re wearing the lens of the gospel. 

Jesus, help each of us see and accept changes as part of a far better story than we could ever hope to write. You are making all things new, right now— right before our very eyes, if we have eyes to see and a heart to accept. Because of your life, death, and resurrection, we’re heading toward a place, family, and eternity in which it will all make sense and everything will be the way it’s supposed to be. Hasten that magnificent day! 

Until then, Jesus, may we love you with abandon, serve you without question, and order our lives after your transforming purposes. We pray in your merciful and matchless name.

Amen.