Category Archives: Prayer
He (God) asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” I said, “Sovereign Lord, you alone know.” Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.’” Ezek. 37:3-6 (NIV)
Dear heavenly Father, what a perfect text to pray through so close to our celebration of Easter. Dry bones are scattered everywhere. Hearts and marriages, churches and pastors—there are a lot of people I care about in great need of the God of resurrection.
I’m so thankful it was you, not Ezekiel who asked about the possibility of life coming to the living dead. “Can these bones live?” you ask. The question is rhetorical, for nothing is impossible for you heavenly Father, nothing. I don’t know how you’re going to do it, but I abandon myself to today, trusting you to fulfill your great and gracious promises.
Father, pour out your Spirit of renewal on weary friends and “fried” colleagues in the ministry of the gospel—and on their churches and ministries as well. I know the stress and warfare, unrealistic demands and …
For he himself (Jesus) is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by setting aside in his flesh the law with its commands and regulations. His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace, and in one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility. He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit. Eph. 2:14-18 (NIV)
Dear Lord Jesus, we praise, bless, and adore you for making peace between God and us. Through your finished work, we haven’t “just” been reconciled to God, but have become objects of his affection and children of his delight—a people upon whom Abba’s favor rests and for whom heaven is prepared. Hallelujah, many times over!
And we praise you, Lord Jesus, for tearing down the wall of hostility between Gentiles and Jews. It was always your plan to do so—to make enemies into friends and replace hostility with hospitality, and enmity with empathy, loathing with loving. Indeed, in you, Jesus, distinctions are no longer barriers that exclude, but bridges that unite. Diversity becomes a bouquet of beauty when the gospel is in play. Nothing is impossible for you…
SO Lord Jesus, we earnestly ask you to do this same enmity-destroying heart-gentling peacemaking in our most broken relationships. …
Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. Psalm 20:7 (ESV)
Those who trust in themselves are fools, but those who walk in wisdom are kept safe. Prov. 28:26 (NIV)
When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. Psalm 56:3 (NIV)
“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. John 14:1 (NLT)
Dear heavenly Father, every difficult season of life is anticipated in your Word—all the exigencies and emergencies, disheartening crises and devastating crucibles, broken promises and broken trust. Thank you for your warnings and wisdom, and today—especially, thank you for your welcome. Few things hurt as much as broken trust. Help us Lord, help us trust you when trusting is really hard.
We trust a chair will support our weight when we sit down, a bridge won’t collapse when we drive across it, the food we bring home from the market is safe, the diagnosis we get from our doctor is right, and people we love won’t harm us. Father, we’re not naïve. We live in a broken world, as broken people. If we stay in any relationship long enough, we will be a disappointment and we will be disappointed. Today, however, we ask you to meet us in the raw and lingering pain of broken trust.
In our fear, and with our troubled hearts, we want to trust you, Father, completely. Where else can we go. What else, who …
No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it. 1 Cor. 10:13 (NIV)
When the devil had finished tempting Jesus, he left him until the next opportunity came. Luke 4:13 (NLT)
The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. John 10:10 (ESV)
Dear Lord Jesus, I praise you for the daily-ness of your warnings, and the persistence of your woo-ings. Everyday, sometimes every hour, we have life and death choices set before us. Satan intends to steal, kill, and destroy us; but you give limitless mercy, abounding grace, and abundant life. The very fact that we often pause between these two choices underscores our weakness and vulnerability; and just how much we need you as this day begins and will continue.
Jesus, some of us are highly tempt-able right now. Grab us and grace us. Temptation is raging and it looks pretty appealing. Whether from weariness in well doing or the exhaustion of difficult relationships; the ache of unfulfilled longings or the pain of living in craziness; the quest for new adventure or the lure of old memories; a plan to out-hurt those who have hurt us, or unguarded moments of carelessness—we are weak and we need …
Look after each other so that none of you fails to receive the grace of God. Watch out that no poisonous root of bitterness grows up to trouble you, corrupting many. Heb. 12:15 (NLT)
Resentment kills a fool. Job. 5:2 (NIV)
Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. Eph. 4:31-32 (NIV)
Dear heavenly Father, these Scriptures cut to the chase and bring conviction to our hearts. We are your beloved daughters and sons, but today we are also your “busted” daughters and sons; for resentment comes to us as quickly as someone steals our parking place, or eats the saran-wrapped piece of cake we hid in the “frig,” or fails to include us in some social event. It’s amazing how quickly a little slight can launch us into a big spite. Have mercy on us, Lord, and grant us fresh grace, thicker skin and bigger hearts.
But Father, being slighted is one thing, but being assaulted by the betrayals and failures, deceit and lies, attacks and abuse of others, is an altogether different matter. These aren’t things to shake off, but deep wounds, broken hearts, and incredible pain to bring to your throne of grace. You’re not calling us to denial, but to yourself. Have mercy on us, Lord, have big mercy; and grant us wisdom, strength and tons of grace.
We think you ought to know, dear brothers and sisters, about the trouble we went through in the province of Asia. We were crushed and overwhelmed beyond our ability to endure, and we thought we would never live through it. In fact, we expected to die. But as a result, we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely only on God, who raises the dead. 2 Cor. 1:8-9 (NLT)
Dear heavenly Father, what a joy it is to call you the God of Resurrection, for that is who you are. Death died and evil received a mortal wound the Day you raised Jesus from the grave. On your time schedule, everything sad will come untrue and everything broken will be made new; resplendent beauty will replace of forms of ugly and everlasting symphony will silence all cacophony. This is our peace, joy, and hope.
Father, it is because of your mercy and grace for us in Jesus that we freely bring to you the things that have the power to overwhelm and crush us. Though the details differ from Paul’s story, we too know what it feels like to question our ability to endure much longer. So, forsaking all self-reliance, we collapse on Jesus today and ask you to bring life and light into these stories of death and darkness. We bring our friends, and ourselves, to your throne of grace.
Father, we pray for the persecuted church, throughout the world. We live in a day in which martyrdom is becoming normative …
Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge. Ps. 62:5-8 (NIV)
Dear heavenly Father, nothing compares with the peace we have, born from the certainty of your love for us. No more wrestling with “he loves me, he loves me not”—for we now live in your permanent favor and unwavering delight. You have set your affection on us, for you have made Christ’s righteousness ours. Jesus is our Sabbath Rest, our Year of Jubilee—our mighty rock and loving refuge.
Our honor and hope depend on you, Father, not on what people think or say about us; not based on our productivity or usefulness; and not based on how much we are like Christ, but on how much we are in Christ—which is totally. This really is what we believe, Father, what we really believe the Bible teaches; and we are thankful and truly grateful.
SO, Father, here is our prayer and cry. Hear it, as we pour out our hearts to you today. May all these legal gospel rights become personal liberating delights. We want our correct theology to be our transforming doxology. We want to be freer, much freer, Father. We want to live …
Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. Isa. 40:28-21 (ESV)
Dear heavenly Father, there’s nothing major going on—no foreboding issues in front of me, or recent disappointments dogging me. I’m just feeling a bit tired and “blah-ish,” as this day begins. So this Scripture comforts me on many levels. First of all, I’m glad to be reminded that even youths get faint and weary, and young men get exhausted, because I’m neither a youth nor a young man. So thanks for the freedom to accept my limitations and humanity—a freedom I need to access more regularly.
But more importantly, Father, I’m thankful for what this passage reminds me about you. You are tireless in your care, everlasting in your mercies, and generous with your grace. You anticipate our weakness and meet us right there. When we get worn-out, you don’t roll your eyes and call us “couch potatoes,” but beloved children.
Father, thanks for your promise to renew our strength. Thanks for the calling to wait on you, …
Then he turned to the woman and said to Simon, ”Look at this woman kneeling here. When I entered your home, you didn’t offer me water to wash the dust from my feet, but she has washed them with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You didn’t greet me with a kiss, but from the time I first came in, she has not stopped kissing my feet. You neglected the courtesy of olive oil to anoint my head, but she has anointed my feet with rare perfume. I tell you, her sins—and they are many—have been forgiven, so she has shown me much love. But a person who is forgiven little shows only little love.” Luke 7:44-47 (NLT)
Dear Lord Jesus, I would do well do meditate on this passage once a week, at least. Because nothing is more daily that the call to forgive; nothing is more scandalous than the way you forgive; and nothing is more important than the way that I love.
Jesus, I show up in this story in so many places. I’m Simon the self-righteous Pharisee. I often see people through the lens of criticism and judgment—especially if their actions have hurt or inconvenienced me, or if their sins are different than mine. I am so sorry, Jesus, forgive me of my arrogance and hair-trigger self-righteousness.
Jesus, I’m also this broken woman at your feet. My sins are just as ugly and numerous as hers, just not as public or notorious. I believe this; by your Holy …