A couple of months ago, I mentioned one of the projects I’ve been working on: The Lord Is My Light. It’s a daily liturgy for prayer and Bible reading, releasing as both a prayer book and a daily podcast.
I’ve heard from many readers excited about this project and asking for updates, so here’s a closer look at what’s been happening behind the scenes.
Book
It’s been a labor of love going back through all 396 daily liturgies, ensuring everything—from the font to the headings to the readings and canticles—is formatted in a way that accents the beauty of God’s Word and these ancient prayers of faith.
We’ve chosen a cream-colored paper with a finish that’s smooth to the touch, sitting right in that sweet spot of thinness (so everything fits into one volume) without sacrificing opacity (so it won’t bleed through like the paper you find in many Bibles).
The volume will be hardbound in the same dark blue we used on Letters of Paul in 30 Days—beautifully designed, sturdy, and reliable, with a single ribbon marker so you always know exactly where you are. That is one of the features I care most about: no flipping around trying to find the right prayer or passage. Even elements that recur daily (the Gloria, the Lord’s Prayer), weekly (the words of comfort after Confession of Sin), or biweekly (the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds) are all present in the text for that day.
We also decided against printing verse numbers for the biblical texts, so the experience feels more like a Reader’s Bible. You can lose yourself in the Word without subconsciously keeping a count of how much you’ve read. The proofing process has been moving smoothly, as we confirm all the passages are quoted and formatted correctly.
Podcast
For the podcast, I’m excited to be working again with Scott Slucher, my producer for Reconstructing Faith. His team is already well into recording. One thing I insisted on from the start: No use of artificial intelligence. Every voice on this podcast will be a real person, reading Scripture or praying these prayers as their own, so that whenever someone tunes in, they’re joining another person in prayer to the Father.
The response from contributors has been encouraging. We have voices from across the country and around the world, various regional accents and tones, pastors and laypeople, young and old, men and women, singers and songwriters. Some are names you’d recognize. But everyone is going without attribution, because the point isn’t the one praying, but the One we’re praying to.
One of the things I’ve been intentional about is how contributors approach the material. I’ve asked everyone to come not as a reader but as a pray-er—not just reciting words aloud but actually addressing God, letting the recording capture a genuine act of speech directed to God. When someone is praying the words of Augustine or Luther or Amy Carmichael, I’ve encouraged them not to imagine how those figures might have sounded, but to receive the words they composed and make them their own. The image I’ve given everyone is this: Picture yourself kneeling by your bedside, alone, taking these words and lifting them to God in his presence.
For my own portions, we’re recording a fresh version for every single day—no copying from previous sessions. That means hours of sustained prayer in each recording block, often praying the same texts repeatedly, which has been both spiritually renewing and mentally exhausting. (I have a newfound appreciation for the monks who prayed through all the Psalms every week!)
Audio Experience
One of the most exciting elements has been crafting the sonic experience of the podcast. Each episode will open with a familiar melodic line from an ancient hymn suited to the season of the church year. (For example, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” during Advent, and “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded” during Lent.)
Then we settle into an ambient soundscape that supports the flow of the liturgy: call to prayer, confession of faith, confession of sin, canticle, Scripture reading, Gloria, the Lord’s Prayer, personal requests, prayer of the church, and a blessing. The Scripture reading for the day is set apart with no background music at all, because we want to heighten the stillness of hearing only the Word of God during those minutes.
The goal is a 12-minute audio sanctuary—a space where the listener hears the Word of the Lord, surrounded by the confessions and prayers of the church through the ages, and is reminded that the saints who came before us pondered these same texts and erupted in the same praise for the same unchanging gospel.
Most of my work is now complete. The printing and production of the volume, and the editing of the daily podcast episodes, are in the capable hands of a team committed to bringing this vision to life. What remains is the waiting, and the hope that what we’ve built together will serve the church well for years to come.
The Lord Is My Light releases November 1 in print, and December 1 (just in time for Advent) as a podcast. More details to come. In the meantime, I’d covet your prayers.
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