Lord Jesus, I woke up this morning praying for friends who will need extra grace to make it through the rest of December, including Christmas. For many, the merriment of the season contrasts with the brokenness they’re feeling. The Day of all things new looks better and better for those whose lives are marked by all things “messy.” You “get” that, Jesus. More importantly, you care and you come near. You still do.

Choosing shepherds as the first recipients of your birth announcement was brilliant, beautiful, and deeply encouraging to us, Jesus. The shepherds got one of the first glimpses of your incarnate self—God as a baby. They beheld and marveled at your smallness, weakness, and utter dependence on your mother. You created Mary and came to save her; and she nursed you—giving her milk to the one who feeds the birds and clothes the fields. Holy, holy mystery… the greatness of smallness.

But when the shepherds left your manger, they were still “shepherds.” “Unfairness” was written all over their story. They still couldn’t worship at the temple, though they raised sheep for temple sacrifices. They still couldn’t give testimony in a court of law. Profiled as untrustworthy members of the community, they didn’t get a book deal, start a podcast, or get free falafel in the marketplace.

They returned to a difficult life, the social stigma of being shepherds, and a denarii-to-denarii existence. At one level, nothing changed; but in what matters most, everything changed. Jesus, there’s something magnificent about accepting things we cannot change—not acquiescing to injustice, but experiencing the deepest peace while we steward the greatness of our brokenness.

It won’t always hurt like this, but it does now, Jesus. We’re not looking for lessons to learn in our shepherd-like messes, but for you—the Good Shepherd. You laid down your life for us. Surely we can trust you with everything else. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, as I meditate on the angels’ bold, bodacious, and beautiful declaration, I want to weep, dance, fall down in worship, get up and dance some more. It’s all right there in this one doxological decree—this heart-enflaming, Gospel-saturated announcement. “Peace to those on whom God’s favor rests.”

Everything our hearts long for, and more than we could imagine… because of you and everything you’ve done for us, we can know with certainty that our heavenly Father isn’t just “okay” with us, but that we now live in his perfect, always-there, thoroughgoing favor. You took the disfavor we deserve to give us the delight we cannot imagine. You took the disgrace of our rebellion, sin, and idolatry to give us the full-grace of Abba’s acceptance, forgiveness, and delight. The peace we crave can only be found in the favor you give, Jesus.

We invest so much energy looking for favor—hoping to be seen and known, craving connection, wanting to be wanted, longing to be validated and valued—by peers, a spouse, a lover, our kids, parents, colleagues and the list goes on. But the favor of people will never be enough. Hallelujah, for the Gospel!

No peace compares with Gospel-peace. Even if there were no wars in the world, no fights in our families, no hostilities in our hearts—without the favor of God there is no peace. Just a temporary absence of conflict, a fragile truce between combatants, a pause to reload anger and ammunition for the next round. Jesus, there won’t be—there can’t be peace on earth, or peace in a heart, until you, the Prince of Peace reign there. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, it’s the first Sunday of Advent—a 4-Sunday stretch set apart for pondering the glories of your two comings, lingering in the promises of the Gospel, and giving voice to our restless desire, deep longings, and growing love for you.

The prophets and angels certainly felt these things—as reflected in today’s passage. I love Peter’s description of their awe-filled curiosity and great anticipation. Though they didn’t know your name, Jesus, they knew your comings would be both costly and glorious.

You came to us low and got even lower. From your cradle to your cross to your crown—everything about you is marked by your matchless humility and measureless grace. You are the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, and the Lord of Lords who takes everything broken in the world and makes it new.

We gratefully live on this side of your first coming, but we intensely crave to live on the other side of your second coming. Jesus, we are so ready for you to return and finish making all things new and beautiful—starting with our own unglorified hearts. During Advent, take us by the hand and heart and lead us deeper into the holy ache and living hope you alone can satisfy. Stun us afresh, Jesus, with the riches of your now-and-coming-grace. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, this is one of the greatest joy-stories of all time. Both of you were still in your mother’s wombs, but even then, your presence fueled joy in the baby who grew to be John the Baptist. This is truly amazing, but totally consistent with who you’ve been throughout eternity.

In your presence, the fullness of joy overflows (Ps.16:11). It’s the same joy you pray we will know in fullness (John 17:13)—the joy you produce in us by your Spirit (Gal.5:22-23). Thank you. But here’s what’s most encouraging to me today as I think about joy. Jesus, it’s your presence that’s the joy—your nearness and “Immanuel-ness.”

John the Baptist leapt because you were close by. Joy isn’t an emotion of gladness you give us from afar just to cheer us up. It’s a core of peace and hope you give us by being near. Hallelujah, we’re under no pressure to be “happy clappy” all the time, devoid of sadness, grief, and lament. You were simultaneously a man of sorrows (Isa.53:1) and anointed with the oil of joy (Heb.1:9). There’s no contradiction there—just beauty, kindness, and care. Thank you, Lord Jesus, thank you. Make your presence so real and so dear to us in the coming days. So Very Amen.

  Heavenly Father, unreal… how can it really be December 1^st. The season of Advent and Christmas are fully in gear, and both highlight the theme of waiting. “Waiting” confronts me in every context of life. Why am I in such a hurry? Why the rush?

At just the right time, you sent Jesus. Not a day too early, not a day too late. But as for me, traffic, Wi-Fi, and FedEx can’t move fast enough. Worse, I finish people’s sentences. I fidget instead of lingering. I launch instead of listening. Instead of a non-anxious presence, I often emit a harried hurry-up vibe.

Father, on this first day of December, I repent. A busy, cluttered, edgy, in too-much-of-a-hurry spirit isn’t a sign of hard working, but hardly worshipping. Advent is a season for treasuring Jesus in our hearts, not getting everything done. According to you, the only thing that counts is “faith expressing itself in love” (Gal. 5:6)—not success expressing itself in stress. People are forever; “stuff” will end up in the dumpster.

Thank you, Abba, for not being in a hurry. Thank you for “waiting to be gracious” to us. Thank you for not being slow about in keeping your promises. Slow. Us. Down. By your Spirit’s work, may December 2023 be a month of spiritual renewal for many of us. Life is too short and Jesus is too beautiful for us not to live at the pace of grace. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, we’ve never been more grateful for your first Advent (coming) and more eager for your second. But while we intensify our cry, “How Long O Lord?”, we remember your promise to never leave or forsake us (Heb.13:5). We will never experience a Christ-absent day. Hallelujah, and thank you.

We’re also grateful for the way you give us “little-‘a’-Advents”—coming to us by the Holy Spirit with crisis-shaped grace (Acts 7:55), mercy-in-the moment deliverance, and various demonstrations of your resurrection power and current reign. We aren’t “just barely holding on,” we’re being held fast. Once again, Hallelujah, and thank you.

Jesus, by the Gospel we know we’re already rooted and established in your love (Eph.3:17-19). But by the power of the Spirit grant us a fresh encounter with your beauty, magnificence, and goodness (Eph.5:18). Restore to us the joy of our first-moment of salvation. Renew in us the heart-palpitating love we had for you at first. And bring us into the much-more-ness of the freedom, peace, and kindness you intend for each of us (Gal.5:1).

On the perfect Day you will return to marry us, feast with us, and carry us through the portal of eternity into the new heaven and new earth (Rev.19). Surely this must be the “immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine” you’ve spoken about. Most gladly again we shout… “Hallelujah, and thank you Jesus.” So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, it’s scary to groan with unremitting pain, not knowing what’s wrong with us. Our imagination runs wild, and very worst-case scenario takes over. An accurate diagnosis of our condition comes like a kiss and gift—even when the news is a bit overwhelming. Through these verses, you’ve given us a trustworthy diagnosis, and it couldn’t be more overwhelming.

Why do we hurt so deeply? What is this constant ache and throbbing we carry? It’s not just one thing, but the main thing you want us to understand is that we are pregnant. Along with all creation, we’re feeling the pains of childbirth, and you haven’t prescribed an epidural or anesthesia. Life between your two Advents (comings) is supposed to hurt, but it’s a hope-hurt. Thus we wait eagerly—not with fear, regret, or uncertainty. For your Spirit guarantees the hope of what is to come—the hope with which we are pregnant.

It’s like we’re pregnant with quadruplets! 1. We will finally be fully like you, Jesus. 2. All creation will be renewed. 3. Evil will be eradicated. 4. We will live forever in the perfect-everything of the new heaven and new earth. Hallelujah for a guaranteed full-term pregnancy. It’ll be worth all the painful groaning and all the intense waiting. So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, of all people, we should be the most humble, thankful, and kind. When we were dead in our sins and trespasses, you raised us to new life in Christ. Then you wrapped us with Jesus’ righteousness and hid us in your heart. Our past is redeemed, our present is grace-enveloped, and our future is beyond all imagining.

Hallelujah for so great a salvation, so wonderful a peace, and so glorious a hope. Father, we long for the Day we will only love and never sin again. Until then free us to be quicker to “put to death” things you’ve already forgiven. Sin still lurks within us, so we look to you in expectant reliance. We own, grieve, and repent of…

Attitudes that deny your grace.

Words that violate other’s peace.

Habits that sabotage kindness and beauty.

Passivity that accepts the unacceptable,

Pettiness that robs people we love.

Greed that finances our stinginess.

Unbelief that robs you of glory.

Thank you for daily mercies, the power of your Spirit, and good friends that help us grow in grace. So Very Amen.

Dear Jesus, on this last Monday of November, 2023, it’s a great day for remembering what does and doesn’t matter. We’re in that brief lull-space between Thanksgiving and Advent, just before everything gets busy and becomes a Christmas-blur.

So, in light of the glorious Gospel, your sovereign pleasure, and our Abba-numbered days, where would you have us invest our remaining days? Where should we spend more currency of your grace, and less “bogus-bucks” of regret, worry, and fear?

With whom should we spend face-to-face, heart-to-heart, kindness-and-more-kindness time? What cares have we “cast on you”—but with an attached bungee cord, so we can keep taking them back? Cut the cord, Jesus.

What harmless hobby, benign pastime, or little “ditty” have we chosen over meditating on your beauty, pondering your goodness, and fellowshipping with you, Jesus? Who and what have we been putting off till “the right time”—but the clock is ticking, the calendar is turning, and time is running out?

Who have we hurt, but we’re too stubborn and proud to own it? Who are we holding hostage by the chains of unforgiveness and bitterness? We’re the prisoners needing to be set free. “Spring us” by a fresh understanding of the full and free forgiveness we have in you. Jesus, until our last breath here and our first deep inhaling of the grace of heaven, don’t set our agenda, be our agenda, portion, passion, and delight. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, is there such a thing as “redemptive envy”? We’d love to have the kind of joy you generated in John. Even before either of you were born—while you were in Mary’s womb and he was in Elizabeth’s, he leapt for joy just being in your presence (Luke 1:39–41).

Grant us this Spirit-fruit, Jesus—a joy that would turn the lights out on our pity-parties, and sabotage our penchant for comparing ourselves to others. A joy that would fill our heart-sails with your beauty and goodness, and free us to live and love to your glory.

John’s life wasn’t always easy (Luke 7:19-23), and he didn’t just go to sleep and wake up in heaven one day (Matt. 14:1-12). But it was a life of substantive meaning, palpable joy, with a default mode of always re-centering on you. We want the same for ourselves, Jesus. As surely as you wrote John the Baptist’s story, so you’re writing ours.

You know what’s not easy for us right now; and you know the day and means by which you’ll welcome us into heaven. Until then, free us from even glancing at temporal “saviors”; and free us from acting like we’re anybody’s messiah. May you become greater and greater in our gaze, thinking, and loving. You’re the Point, we’re the beloved pointers. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, this one verse is a perfect invitation into the soon-upon-us season of Advent. While enjoying the things we love most about Thanksgiving weekend, the lights, sights, sounds of Christmas move right in—just as it should be. Holiday gatherings often underscore how much we need you.

No one better understood why you came into our world than the Samaritan women you met at Jacob’s well (John 4:1–42). She was playing hide and hide some more. But you came to seek, find, and love. She expected ridicule and judgment, you gave her mercy and kindness. You met her deep thirst with a deeper love. You gave her the only water that satisfies—living water.

   You do the same for us. You came into our world to set us free, not weigh us down—to grace us, not shame us—to announce the year of the Lord’s favor, not the forever of his unremitting disappointment. Hallelujah … Jesus you came to save us not condemn us (John 3:17).

You took our judgment and gave us your righteousness. We cannot over-believe this is true, savor it as our treasure, and graciously extend it to others—like the Samaritan woman did. Her gratitude, humility, and kindness are so attractive to us.

That’s timely, Lord. This weekend we’ve been with family and friends who remain strangers to your love, indifferent to your welcome, and clueless about your grace. Though our default mode is to stress, fear, and find some way to fix them, we want to be different.

Only you can save, Jesus, and you are awesome at it. Make us magnets of your mercy, fountains of your grace-water, and more trusting of your work in the lives of people we love. So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, I’m grateful today for a lot, but add to my list the Apostle Paul’s use of descriptive terms, adverbs, and adjectives. Though an editor would chide him and change his manuscript—when it came to the Gospel, Paul disregarded Strunk and White’s “The Elements of Style.”

Throwing commas, run on sentences, paragraphing, and hyphens to the wind, Paul could not over-state or hyperbolize the greatness of your love for us in Jesus. Here are just 7 of the numberless, “boundless riches of Christ” for which we give you praise today:

• Full forgiveness, no condemnation, and Jesus as our righteousness.
• A new heart that beats for you and the things you cherish.
• No fear of death, citizenship in heaven, and grace until then.
• The guarantee one Day we will be as lovely and loving as Jesus.
• You as our Father, Jesus as our Bridegroom, and the Spirit within.
• An eternity of “all-things-new,” nothing broken, and perfect relationships.
• Knowing you’re working in all things for our good—no exceptions.

Okay, I fudged, that was 15, not 7—but who’s counting when it comes to the numberless ways you love us? Father, as we quickly “blow by” Black Friday and head into Advent, here’s our prayer. For the rest of 2023, please take us deeper into the rest of the Gospel, the joy of being your beloved children, and the peace that passes anything humanly explainable. So Very Amen.

   Dear Jesus, we’re Cinderella with amnesia—forgetful of wonder, oblivious to our Gospel enrichment, absent-minded about every good thing we have in you. But not today—today is a day for photographic grace-memory and whole-hearted thanksgiving.  Why, of all people, should we be grateful?

 “Who forgives all your sins” – When you said, “It is finished,” you meant it. Though one Day we’ll be more like you, Jesus, we’ll never be more forgiven than we are today.

   “And heals all your diseases,” – Jesus, you don’t always heal on our timetable or in the exact way we pray. But you have secured perfect health for us forever. All the ways sin and death have impacted our bodies, emotions, and thinking—it’s all going to be over, healed, and made new.

  Who redeems your life from the pit” – Along with rescuing us from the pits of sin, death and judgment, you also rescue us from the alligator-infested pits of pity-parties, resentment, comparison, ingratitude, and contempt… to name a few.

   “And crowns you with love and compassion,” – You wore a crown of thorns that we might be crowned with your love and compassion. Your banner over us is now and only love. Your delight in us is full-throttle and non-stop. Your coming for us is more certain than our stingless-death and next breath. We are loved and we are yours and we are grateful, Jesus. Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Forever! So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, this passage underscores the greatness of your love, the depth of our need, and the heartbeat of the Gospel. We can truly know and fully rely on your love of us in Jesus. It’s not like thin ice we’re wise to mistrust, or the old beach chair we’re not sure can bear our weight. Your love is the greatest, most reliable constant in our lives. Hallelujah.

This passage also helps us realize how close living in fear and living in love are to each other. Sometimes they inhabit the same heart, same home, and same holiday gathering. So, Abba, help us “prep” our hearts for the next few days, and not just the meal, table, and decorations. Relationships expose our need for more of the Gospel more than anything else.

We can’t love anyone we fear, so help us rely on your love in our “stickiest,” most slippery, fragile relationships. Replace our anxieties with curiosity, our worry with welcome, and our guardedness with playfulness. Whoever is standing before us, may Jesus be bigger in our gaze, hearts, and the moment.

Whatever culinary delights fill our holiday menu—high, mid, low, no carbs—may the greatest feast be your Fatherly kindness, extraordinary grace, and perfect love. So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, in our most Gospel-sane moments, we know the grounds for our gratitude should easily sabotage our slide into sullenness, grumpiness, and self-pity. For starters, the three things you say about us in this one verse are truly staggering. We are your chosen, not choice people. Your grace, not our awesomeness, defines us. We are holy—set apart for you, by you—forgiven all our unrighteousness, and declared righteous in Christ.

And to top it all, we are dearly loved—not “kinda-loved,” “variably-loved,” or loved with an asterisk (*) beside our name. Hallelujah, and thank you. Because these things are gloriously true, what to wear every day has nothing to do with the dew point, weather fronts, or time of the year. You’ve made our heart-garment choice easy.

Compassion, Kindness, Humility, Gentleness, Patience are never out of style, and better than Gore-Tex when it’s raining “cats and dogs,” criticism and indifference, or unfairness and disappointment. They’re breathable but warm, comfortable next to the heart, and go with anything, anywhere, all the time. Packable and wrinkle-free, they only cost us our pride, selfishness, and unbelief.

All metaphors and cuteness aside, Father, this is serious stuff. How we love matters—so much so, you’ve told us “the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself in love” (Gal. 5:6). Whether our Thanksgiving Day tradition is to wear cute matching outfits, favorite jeans-n-flannel, “Sunday-best,” or anything goes… as your dearly loved children, we want to love dearly. So underneath it all, we’ll seek to stay clothed in these precious grace-garments. So Very Amen.

  The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.” Let anyone who hears this say, “Come.” Let anyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who desires drink freely from the water of life. Rev. 22:17

Lord Jesus, of all the commands with which you could’ve finished your written Word, we’re thankful for the one you chose. Instead of “Do more, try harder!” or “Buck up, be strong!” You went with, “Come, thirsty ones! Come, desiring ones! Come and take the free gift of the water of life.” Hallelujah, and thank you.

At the beginning of this “Thanksgiving Week,” we look to you for the “living water” you alone can give, Jesus—the artesian spring of your healing grace, the life-giving libation of your mercy and love—a river “springing” up inside us for the nourishment and refreshment of others (John 4:14; 7:38)

So, we bring our thirst to you. Jesus, we are thirsty to know Jesus better and better. We thirst to be filled with the Holy Spirit afresh. Slake our thirst so fully, your beauty will dazzle us and your kindness will melt us. Jesus, it is you we want and need—not a Currier and Ives table-setting, Hallmark group hug… or some idealized, idolized holiday gathering.

You know exactly what this week will be like for each of us—the different expressions of “rapture and rupture.” We ask you for moments of kind merriment, spontaneous guffaws, and sweet, deep connecting. But we’re grateful you will be just as present when brokenness is evident, loneliness is underscored, and our longings for the wedding feast of the Lamb get super-charged. Thank you. Jesus, whenever you set a table, all are welcome, the bread of grace-upon-grace is always served, and living water and the best wine never run out. May it be so this week.. for us and through us. So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, what a destiny we have, what a God you are, what a Gospel we treasure. By your outrageous generosity, we will soon realize that whatever we thought “heaven” would be, our bar was too low, our hopes were too tiny, our dreams with only in 3 colors, not 30,000.

Life in the new heaven and new earth will be beautiful, bountiful, and bodacious beyond our most Spirit-fueled imagining. Intensify our peace, craving, and joy as we await the Day of all things new and beautiful. And until then, free us to dispense 70% more encouragement than we currently do. “Stuff happens” … but encouragement and building others up are intentional.

All this Thanksgiving week—and throughout Advent, may we speak words of life and kindness to each other. May we catch each other “doing it right” and honor one another above ourselves. Free us to overlook stuff that irritates in the moment but will be forgotten forever. May we spend the currency of grace on each other like it’ll never be exhausted, because it won’t.

Father, thank you—whether we die before Jesus returns or live to see that Day—”signed, sealed, and delivered,” we are yours. No separation from your love, no derailing your plans, nothing but awesome ahead. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, it’s just November 18^th but the trend continues. Advent markers and Christmas symbols are multiplying. Lights, trees, wreaths increase every day… and we haven’t sat down to Thanksgiving lunch yet. I love it.

The most memorable line of Phillips Brooks’ hymn (O, Little Town of Bethlehem) reminds us of two heart-grabbing realities. “The hopes and fears of all the years” collide then dance… when you enter the Story. Accordingly, thirty-six-ish days from Christmas, we want to affirm these 3 things: First of all, our hope is in you—not in things changing, people filling us up, or us getting more anything. We emotionally vacillate between “Yippee!” and “Dang it!”, but we can, and do, trust you, Lord.

Secondly, we do have fears—fears of not having enough and being enough, fears of “What if’?” and “If only.” Because of you, Jesus, and the riches of your grace, we don’t have to deny it, spin it, “white-knuckle” it. Thank you.

Thirdly, our hopes and fears find full and final resolution in you. You aren’t our mere “happy ending.” You are our life (Phil.1:21)—our “righteousness, holiness, redemption” (1Cor.1:30); our “portion,” joy, and inheritance. For the next five weeks—and the rest of our lives, we want to grow in our “smittenness” with you, Jesus… with your beauty, goodness, and truth. So Very Amen.

Dear Jesus, “Do everything in love” … the only reason we’re not laughing this off, dumbing it down to make it “do-able,” or despairing of our lovelessness is because you first loved us. Though we won’t love perfectly till heaven, we are already perfectly loved. Hallelujah! This is all the reason, motivation, and fuel we need to love others by grace, faith, and your Spirit.

Help us, Jesus. Stun us afresh with how wide, long, high, and deep your love for us really us—the only love better than life, the only love that will never let go of us, the only love that will enable us to love others when…

When we’re tired, frustrated, and grace-empty.

When our kindness isn’t reciprocated and our goodness is exploited.

When old wounds, broken trust, and feelings of “unfairness” are ignited.

Jesus, keep our hearts alive to your tenacious, wild, lavish, joyful, transforming love. This will make all the difference in the world… literally, in the world where you’ve called us to live, work, and play. On the cusp of Thanksgiving, and with the nearness of Christmas, grant us repentance, renewal, and real joy in loving others as you love us Jesus. All for your glory… So Very Amen.

Jesus, we’re all in this story, but if we could choose our part, it’d be the role of the healed, grateful, loud-praising Samaritan who returned to give you thanks. Like the other 9, you saw this man, and healed him from the most debilitating, disintegrating of all diseases. Why the other 9 didn’t come back leaping, shouting and worshiping, we don’t know and won’t waste time speculating. But as for us, one week away from Thanksgiving Day, we gladly identify as a “10%-er” with 100% gratitude for everything you have already done for us Jesus, and will bring to a glorious fullness.

Jesus, with all the gladness and loudness we can muster, we thank you today for healing us of the greatest malady imaginable. We didn’t just have some form of physical leprosy, we were dead in our sins and trespasses. “But God”—who is rich in mercy… that is you, Jesus. You saw us (and you still see us), loved us, and raised us from death to new life in yourself. Hallelujah!!! We are already as forgiven as we’ll ever be, are robed in your perfect righteousness, and loved by our heavenly Father and you just as much as you love each other. Stunning, overwhelming, staggering, and gloriously TRUE.

On top of it all, we will be healed of everything else one Day—the day you return for us. We are destined for an eternity of wiped tears, redeemed pain, new bodies, all things new and beautiful, perfect relationships, a perfect world, no more brokenness, only glory. Jesus—no matter our temperament, DISC profile, Enneagram number and wing, 4-letters of Myers Briggs…. whether we’re introvert, extrovert, or hybrid of the two… fill us with your Holy Spirit, stun us afresh with what it means to be seen, known, and loved by you. Set us free and make us glad, this very holiday season. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, coming to know you was never by our muscle, merit, or our anything. The same is true for having your ongoing favor, smile, and provision. The Gospel put an end to all earning—not all effort—but it certainly blew up any notion of a “blessing-earning” relationship with you. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow… our relationship with you is all by grace—by your doing, and our receiving. You don’t just give us “grace for the moment,” but also grace for every situation.

Saving Grace: We only brought our great need for salvation, and you provided 1000 greater provision. For you are our “righteousness, holiness, and redemption.” (1Cor. 1:30).

Sane-ing Grace: Every day is a return to Gospel-sanity—remembering who you are, Jesus, and who we are in union with you. Making our thoughts captive to you, we regain the perspective of eternity, realize afresh our place in your Story, and reconnect with the hope of heaven.

 Sustaining Grace: Not just grace to “get by,” but the resources we need to live and love to your glory—not merely holding on, but being held.

Sanctifying Grace: Jesus, our only hope of becoming like you is utter dependence on your work in us. It’s often a painful process because you are so lovely and loving, and we are so unlike you. But the process is free to us, and will be completed (Phil.1:6).

Sufficient Grace: And for those episodic crises, the out-of-nowhere tragedies—seasons of despair and stretches of pain, you give us sufficient grace—not an anesthetic, but the freedom to lament, trust, suffer to your glory, and love our fellow sufferers. Jesus, thank you… really, thank you. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, these passages present a most striking contrast, and tell an important story. Diotrephes “loved to be first”—perhaps the first in line in whatever queue was forming, first to choose the best seat, first to demand to be noticed and appreciated. But the Gospel tells a radically different story.

Jesus, you “loved us first”—you chose the lowest place imaginable. You didn’t consider your equality with God something to be held onto for personal gain.. Rather, you emptied yourself as the quintessential Servant—serving us by your life, death, and resurrection (Phil.2:1-11). Now, you ever live to serve us as our Advocate, Intercessor, and King. Even when you return, you will serve us (Luke 12:37; Rev. 7:17). Nothing is more astonishing, beautiful, and transforming.

How then shall we respond? We certainly own the ways, like Diotrephes, we also love to be first—whether it’s in our marriages, in the office, playing golf with friends, sharing insider-gossip, or choosing a bedroom on a group trip. What do we need, and what do we want, Jesus? Gracious Lord, please restore us to our first love for you—our first humility, first joy, first freedom from “me-first-ness.”

Heading into both Thanksgiving and Christmas, grant us a fresh experience of Gospel-renewal—Holy Spirit generated conviction, repentance, and childlike wonder and love for you, Jesus. Thank you, and So Very Amen.

  “After you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you” (1 Pet. 5:10).

Heavenly Father, thank you for your heart-encouraging, perspective-giving voice in the Bible—especially this “word” from Peter about suffering. Many friends are experiencing losses, “crosses,” broken bodies, and overwhelmed hearts. Nothing brings us more peace than knowing you as “the God of all grace”—our “Father of mercies and God of all comfort” (2 Cor 1:3).

In the matrix of mercy, all suffering is just for a “little while.” We are grateful there is a perfect timetable in heaven. Free us grace to accept it, and trust you more. When we’d gladly settle for temporal relief, remind us you’ve called us to “eternal glory in Christ.” Make that real and precious to us, not just a religious cliché or slogan.

The Day of no more “death, mourning, crying, or pain” is barreling towards us at the speed of your kindness (Rev.21:4). Until then, free us to ache to your glory, bear each other’s burdens, and encourage one another daily (Heb.3:13). Grace frees us from “hoarding our heartaches,” or ignoring our friends’ “too-much-ness.” Shared weakness releases the aroma of your nearness and tenderness.

Father, “restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish” us, just as you have promised. May your daily mercies define us 7 times more than out fleeting misery. That you see us, know us, care and are in control is sweetness beyond measure. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, thank you for the timing of these timeless words. Of late, my quick to irritation-and-criticism fuse has gotten shorter. Rushing to judgment has been easier than rushing to you. My cry is for you to give me mercy, not cut me some “slack.” I’m not asking you to understand my circumstances, but for you to forgive and free my heart.

Jesus, I don’t want you to judge me as I often judge others. In fact, hallelujah, you haven’t. You exhausted my judgment on the cross. The Gospel quid pro quo is revolutionary, glorious, and final. You exchanged the “this” of your perfect life for the “that” of my sin, rebellion, and unrighteousness. Thank you Lord Jesus, thank you.

The greatest contradiction of the Gospel—the most offensive non sequitur to the riches of your grace is harshness of spirit and a condemning attitude. Nursing our grudges rather than drinking in living water. Rehearsing what offends us about others, more than we relish what astonishes us about you, Jesus. Have mercy, indeed.

You’re not calling us to be blind to real issues, but generous with your loving kindness. By your heart and hand, continue to take the “ceiling beam” out of our eyes. You do call us to rescue and restore each other—but with gentleness (Gal. 6:1; Jude 20-23). Your kindness first led us to repentance, and Jesus, it’s doing the same today. Thank you. So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, it’s an almost mid-November Saturday, and things are fixing to get super busy. As hard as it is to believe, within the next six weeks, we will celebrate both Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Like Asaph (who wrote Psalm 73), it’s the perfect time to get recentered, settled, and focused on what (Who) really matters. Holiday seasons have a sneaky way of fueling our forgetfulness, discontent, and envy. So, we are glad on this November 11 to reaffirm that you are our quintessential treasure, eternal portion, and greatest joy. Compared to you, everything else shrinks to its size, value, and importance.

Abba, grant us more satisfaction in yourself than in any other story, situation, or relationship we would choose for ourselves. Thank you for giving us many gifts to enjoy, but we want you to be the most gratifying feast of hearts—our banquet, passion, and inheritance. By your Holy Spirit, make it so

Heal our Gospel-amnesia, penchant for comparison, and ingratitude. We easily forget we are your heart-chosen children of delight—those you have saved by grace, hidden in Christ, sealed for eternity. Free us to live these next several weeks with hearts of gladness, a core of peace, and hands of servanthood. So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, there are days when we—the clay, presume to tell you—the Potter, what to make and market. Or you’re the orchestra leader of the London Philharmonic and we offer commentary on your baton waving and choice of musical scores. Or you’re the creator and curator of Centra Park in New York City, and feel the “need” to remind you it’s time to paint the benches and plant less conifer trees. Abba… you are SO patient, merciful, and kind to us.

Gospel-sanity beckons us, yet again, to be grateful for your “God-ness,” sovereignty, and active rule. You’re not only the A and Z of life, but you also claim F, J, M, Q… and the other 20 letters. You’ve never been perplexed, shocked, late, or informed. You never attempt to do things, you do “all that you please.” That doesn’t make life easy, but it does make it profound. If we have no room for difficult mysteries, we have no room for your perfect love. You are God, not our Uber driver.

Father, you will “make everything beautiful in its time” (Eccl. 3:11), and in time, you will finish making all things new (Rev. 21:5). You will (not might) “be honored throughout the world.” You are God, the Gospel is true, we are yours, and Jesus is coming back. It is enough—more than enough. So Very Amen.

Dear Jesus, how we love this phrase… “to destroy the devil’s work”—one of the main reasons you entered our world. Thank you for crushing the devil’s head, breaking his dominion, and shaming him and all his minions. Terror is now terrified of you. Horror is on short notice. Wickedness is worried. The devil is filled with fury because he knows his time is short (Rev.12:12). Make it shorter, blessed King.

Everything that contradicts your beauty, goodness, and truth will be annihilated—eradicated once and for all. Lord Jesus, it doesn’t always appear or feel that way, but nothing is more gloriously true. Thank you. Good singers, bad singers, non-singers… we all belt out Luther’s hymn… “Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing, were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing. You ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is he.” (A Mighty Fortress Is Our God). And more than you simply being “on our side,” Jesus, our lives are now hidden lovingly and securely in you (Col.3:1-4).

We will not shrink back, shrivel up, or capitulate. As full as the world is with evil and devils, it will be filled a gazillion times over with your beauty, goodness, and truth. As surely as you spoke the world into existence, you will speak the one word that will fell the devil, spell his end, and will fill the earth with your glory and grace. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah! So Very Amen.

Abba, Father, first of all, thank you for setting your affection on us. What a stunning description of our salvation. We’re not in a relationship of “he loves me, he loves me not” uncertainty. You love us as much as you love Jesus all the time. We can’t increase or diminish your love for us—as hard as that is to believe.

That doesn’t make you passive and indifferent; it means you’re generous and grace-full. You sent Jesus to do for us what we could never do for ourselves. He perfectly kept your law and he exhausted all judgment on the cross. Hallelujah, everything Jesus did, he did for us. Jesus is our Exodus from death and sin, not just from Egypt and human slavery.

And now, Father—because we live in your permanent favor, unwavering affection, and constant delight, we want to honor you in all things. May our heart meditation, our use of words, our obedience to your Word be a declaration of our gratitude and worship. Life in Christ is a gazillion times better than life in anything else. So Very Amen.

Dear Jesus, like a Chinook Helicopter emptying a full load of water on a raging fire in the Montana mountains. Like a giant transport plan parachuting down crates of much needed supplies to villages suffering drought and crop failure. So you sent our 99-year-old spiritual mom, Rose Marie Miller, to drop a gospel-bomb on me and Darlene at just the right time. “Good to let the ugly past rest in hands that have scars.”

Rose Marie is talking about your hands, Jesus. Hands that made the world out of nothing. Hands that sustained the atoms and molecules of the feeding trough where you were laid the night of your birth. Hands that calmed storms and embraced children. Hands that washed feet before they were bound to the cross. Hands that are presently making all things new. Scarred hands that will serve us on our Wedding Day (Rev.19:7-10; Lk.12:37).

Jesus, we all have a portion of life we call “ugly past”—things done by and to us. We also have present struggles, heartaches, and “frayed edges.” And then there’s the future of our kids, the cosmos, and the Day of your return—each clearly not in our grip. So we gladly follow Rose Marie’s advice. We entrust ourselves, and everything else, to your scarred—ever so beautiful, merciful, and mighty hands. Jesus, thank you for loving, holding, keeping us. So Very Amen.

Jesus, I want this collage of Scriptures to fill, free, and frame my heart this week. Since our lips reveal the preoccupation of our hearts, help me and my friends fix our minds and hearts on you, Lord.

Your beauty is simultaneously breathtaking and lifegiving. Your goodness is the headwater from which all goodness comes. Your truth… well, it’s who you are. You aren’t a mere answer, Jesus, you are the reason and meaning of all things.

As your Spirit strengthens us, may we speak 100 healing words for every thoughtless, uncaring, and hurtful syllable. Even our body language—may it be a taste of your welcome, an invitation to your kindness, and an extension of your grace.  And when our lips contradict the Gospel, grant us quick repentances and more grace.

Surely the Gospel can enable us to engage in conflict redemptively, and disagree with each other respectfully this week. To the extent it depends on us, you have called us to live at peace with everyone (Rom. 12:18). Show us what that looks like Jesus. Give us bigger Gospel-hearts and thicker mercy-skin. So Very Amen.

Dear Friends, where are we heading? What has Jesus won for us? What is the final destination of the history of redemption? When we say “heaven,” what fills our hearts? Ponder these three affirmations, and make your prayer today one of worship and praise unto Abba, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.

Consider what Jesus has won for us:

Rev. 21:1 – The Garden of Eden on gospel-steroids—our present earth will be healed and filled with the knowledge of God’s glory, devoid of all evil, death, mourning, crying and pain.

Rev. 21:2 –  Jesus’ impossible to count, every-nation bride will be our forever family, and every one of our relationships will be perfect—with Jesus as our shared passion and utter delight.

Rev. 21:3-4 –  Finally and forever, we will enjoy unfiltered intimacy with our Father, whose first act will be to wipe our tears “out of our eyes.” This represents the redeeming of the pain behind our tears.

Can we be sure of all of this? Hallelujah, YES! – Rev. 21:5 “He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making all things new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” So VERY Amen.

Lord Jesus, though we have only seen you with the eyes of our hearts, we truly “see” you, and are compelled to love you. Knowing you has given us inner joy unlike any happiness, merriment, and gladness we’ve ever experienced. For we are saved. We are redeemed. We are beloved. We are yours, now and forever.

The astonishing thing is—even if we’ve known you for decades, we are just babes in the world of your everything. There’s so much more of you Jesus—immeasurably more to discover, marvel at, and savor, and enjoy.

So far, we’ve merely read the preface to one book of your greatness and glory. We’ve only seen a couple of chalets on the Swiss Alps of your majesty and beauty. We’re barely toe deep in the bottomless ocean of your grace—and you bid us swim. You invite us to feast at the banquet of your love, and we’re only two bites into the appetizer.

There is so much more to you Jesus. We’ll stay in discovery mode throughout our life in the new heaven and new earth. Hallelujah, and thank you Jesus! In the coming days and months, reveal as much of yourself as we can possibly absorb without exploding with wonder and worship-overload. As your beloved, pre-glorified Bride, we love you, Jesus, but want to love you more and more and more. So Very Amen.

Dear Lord Jesus, thank you for freedom to see myself today in need of everything you promise in this well-loved story. Our needs change like the seasons, but your mercy, grace, and might are always in season.

Jesus, I still need you to preach the good news to my heart. Why, because I suffer from Gospel-amnesia, and because there’s always more Gospel to discover, savor, experience. Turn up the volume, glorious Herald of hope.

I am also one of the prisoners you came to set free from the fear of death and judgment. And hallelujah, you have done so. But, Jesus, I’m still not as free as you intend. Grant me greater freedom the repent quickly, listen deeply, and love as you love me. I am as free as I find joy in loving others.

Jesus, my blindness? Yes, it’s real, so please continue to heal the double-astigmatism, cataracts, and myopia in my heart. Let me see you more clearly Jesus, and more of your beauty, goodness, and truth. By seeing you, Jesus, I’ll see everything else as you intend.

Am I oppressed? Not like those who live in the poverty of physical hunger, tyrannical governments, or racial antagonism. My oppression comes more in the shape of trauma triggers and lingering shame. Continue to heal and free me, Jesus.

Jesus, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah… to know you is to live under the perpetual and full favor of God. Our eternal year of Jubilee began the day Abba hid our lives in you. So Very Amen.

Dear Jesus, in a world of broken people, places, hearts, and dreams… three grand realities give us peace, joy, and hope that can’t be found anywhere else: You love us perfectly. You are ruler of the kings of the earth, and everything else. You will return to finish making all things new. Hallelujah, and thank you. Make each of these three more real and precious to us.

Because of you, Jesus, we don’t have to live in paralyzing fear of anything or anyone. To be human is to lament the stories that grieve us, shed tears for the people that sadden us, and feel vulnerable over things that threaten us. But to be yours is to realize only you and your coming Kingdom are ultimate. Your certain grace, not accidental karma, gets the first, middle, and last word.

By nature, we are hope-setters—looking to someone or something to make things better. But by our new-nature (2Cor.5:17), we know “horses and chariots” (Ps.20:7); oval offices, plastic scepters, and mere men cannot deliver.

Jesus, your past grace saved us, your present grace is transforming us, and the grace we will experience at your return is where we choose to anchor our hearts, set our hope, and fuel our joy. Your tomb has never been more empty. Your throne has never been more occupied. Your return has never been more treasured and craved. Hallelujah, what a Savior you are! Hallelujah, what a salvation we have in you! So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, what a stunning description of what it means to know you. When you melted us with your mercy and conquered us by the Gospel, you placed us in a “parade of grace.” And, hallelujah, it’s going to carry us all the way into the new heaven and new earth.

You made us your captives and now we’re captivated with your beauty, goodness, and truth. Everything glorious about you claims every broken part of us. We sing to you, on this 1^st day of November…

“Wonderful, merciful Savior… precious Redeemer and Friend… who would have thought that a Lamb would rescue us?” … Jesus, we are now “resting, resting in the joy of what you are, as we discover more and more of the greatness of your loving heart… O, how marvelous your goodness, lavished all on us…  “The very thought of you fills our hearts with gladness.” More, Lord, more.

Jesus, increase our “smitten-ness” with yourself. We’ll never over-love you. We’ll never be too preoccupied with you—too enamored, too astonished, too undone. When it comes to you, there’s no such thing as “balance.” May our lives become fragrant with grace—offering a sweet perfume rising up to God in wonder, love, and praise.

Since we are most like you when we are humble, gentle, grateful, and kind, keep us in that attitude and posture. Grace always runs downhill, and you are always running towards us, Jesus. Hallelujah, and So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, in the annals of salvation-history, today is called “Reformation Day”—a day for remembering the sweetest, most necessary and liberating fruit of the Reformation. From beginning to end, our salvation is by grace alone through faith alone. The only thing we contributed to our salvation was our need of it. You took care of everything else… Hallelujah!

When Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of Wittenberg Castle, Oct. 31, 1517, he began a fresh chapter in the back-to-the-Gospel story—a story which preceded him and will continue till your return. For we suffer from chronic Gospel-amnesia, grace-allergies, truth-dementia, and faith-forgetfulness.

The Gospel declares us to be more needful than we want to admit, and more beloved than we can hope or imagine. We needed a new heart, not a fresh start—to be grafted into the True Vine, not merely to “turn over a new leaf.” Indeed, we needed resurrection to new life in you, Jesus, not an opportunity to “do more and try harder.” Your saving grace and perfect righteousness are alone sufficient to save us. You have given both to us—freely and fully.

Jesus, thank you for exhausting our guilt, taking our shame, and breaking our chains. Today we reaffirm that our hope is built on nothing less, other, or more than you and what you accomplished for us. All other saviors are snake-oil carpetbaggers and grace-less frauds. All other gospels are mirages of mercy and anti-gospel gospels. You save to the uttermost, Jesus, and we are utterly grateful. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, I’ve asked you for many things in life, and will continue to do so. For you are a most generous Savior, powerful King, and loving Bridegroom. You know our needs before we ask, and you give way beyond our deserving, asking, or imagining. Hallelujah and thank you.

As I get older, however, one “ask” of mine gets bigger and bigger, and I make with increasing regularity. Jesus, I want to see more of your beauty. I want what King David craved in Psalm 27:4. Ever since you first revealed yourself to me, I’ve known you to be true, and so very good. But now—perhaps because of all the “ugly” in the world, I intensely crave a greater revelation of your unparalleled loveliness.

You faithfully give me air to breath only a daily basis. But take my breath away with a clearer vision of your matchless splendor, healing radiance, and stunning splendor. Jesus, you are the source and meaning of all beauty.  

So, heal my inner-eyes, Jesus—my astigmatism, cataracts, and myopia. Burn from my memory all the wrong, unworthy, distorted images I’ve carried of you in my heart. I long for the Day when we will see you as you are, Lord Jesus, and we will be made like you (1John 3:1-3). The essence of my “ask,” is that I long for more of you, Jesus. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, this Scripture enflames our hearts to pray for children—all children, but especially those impacted by the horrors and trauma of our world at war. Thank you for your passionate, compassionate heart for children.

Palestinian, Israeli, Ukrainian, Russian little ones… we channel our sadness, anger, helplessness, and trust in you on their behalf. We pray for… Children who are experiencing evil and seeing things no eye should ever see. Parents who are overwhelmed with fears and grieving with inconsolable pain. The elderly who are broken, broken-hearted, and bewildered. Courageous medics and those risking everything to bring water, food, and a reason to hope.

Here’s what we cling to, Jesus, and count on. You have promised the eternal of Day when, “The baby will play safely near the hole of a cobra. Yes, a little child will put its hand in a nest of deadly snakes without harm. Nothing will hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain, for as the waters fill the sea, so the earth will be filled with people who know the LORD” Isaiah 11:8-9. When, when, WHEN? How long, Oh Lord?

Jesus, you are the great Savior, ruling King, powerful healer. By whatever means you chose—bands of angels, a direct work of the Holy Spirit, your people positioned throughout the earth… cause these wars to cease. Sovereignly reveal yourself to throngs of your image-bearers, as surely as you converted Saul of Tarsus against his will, and made him Paul the Apostle. So Very Amen.

   Heavenly Father, by the comprehensive voice of your entire Word and the glorious implications of this one verse, here’s what I know you are saying to us today. 

   “How everlasting and unfailing is my love? My child, it has no beginning or end, and it cannot be measured or imagined. I loved you before the world began—before you showed any promise or made and broke your first promise. I never looked at what you would do for me, but only to what I chose to do for you. I sent Jesus to accomplish your entire salvation. He’s not your helper; he’s your life. 

   Before he died for you on the cross, Jesus lived for you. He fulfilled my law for you, and I now count you righteous in him (Col.3:1-3). And don’t be afraid of death, for you have already passed from death to life (John 5:24). In fact, don’t be afraid to live either, for there is no condemnation left for your sin (Rom.8:1), my love for you is as unwavering as it is everlasting. 

   You cannot add to it or take away from it. I will cease to be God before my affection for you will wane or fail, be exhausted or withdrawn. Even when I discipline you—bringing the pain of correction, it is with a heart of compassion and kindness. I will humble you, but I will never humiliate you. I will shape you, but I will never shame you. I have drawn you to myself, adopted you as my own child, and will finish my work in you” (Phil.1:6). 

   Oh Father, thank you. Make these riches of grace—the truth of the Gospel, more precious and real to us than ever. So Very Amen. 

  “A tranquil heart gives life to the flesh, but envy makes the bones rot” Prov. 14:30. “Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you’” Heb.13:5. “Godliness with contentment is great gain” 1 Tim. 6:6.

Heavenly Father, this tapestry of Scriptures is both convicting and consoling. It’s convicting, because I can be envious of anyone, and covetous of anything within sight, smell, sound, or thought. I can get jealous of people who have less hassles and more resources. Friends who can eat 6 Cinnabon’s and lose weight. Extroverts who are completely at ease in every setting. Men who can fix anything broken in houses, cars, and everywhere else. I’m a mess, but your mercy is greater still… thankfully.

But as convicting as these verses are, Father, they are even more consoling. Because, through the Gospel, I have come to believe that all I really need is Jesus, plus what you choose to give me, Father. If I owned everything I envy and covet, my “bones would rot,” because I’d envy more and finish life very poorly. Because ingratitude is soul cancer and hoarding is heart-disease. Comparison is relationship homicide and selfishness is… well, it’s the most basic contradiction of the Gospel. Acquisition-dreaming is soul depletion and driven-ness is a recipe for whole-life collapse.

So, Father, I don’t just pray for contentment in Jesus, but for utter, overflowing satisfaction—the felicity and fullness that come from knowing Jesus, and being known and loved by him. Thank you for putting a Jesus-shaped vacuum in each of us that only Jesus can fill. Fill it “till we want no more.” So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, what a revolutionary notion: Through the gift of repentance, you bring us into “times of refreshing”—not into a state of shame, indefinite probation, or hole to dig ourselves out of. Because repentance shaped and fueled by the Gospel isn’t us making promises to you; it’s you saying to us, “Jesus is enough.” You have made him our “righteousness and sanctification and redemption” (1 Cor. 1:30). There is no better news.

The gift of repentance enables us to see, own, and grieve the ways we have loved poorly, hurt others, and robbed you of glory. Indeed, sin kills kindness and sabotages intimacy, even as it fuels pride and hardens hearts. That’s not who we want to be, Father.

Since your grace runs downhill, we gladly take the low place on this Thursday. You give grace to the humble, but you resist the proud. Only second to robbing you of glory, do we want to experience your resistance, Father. So, as your no-longer-condemned, but freshly-convicted daughters and sons, to whom would you send us today in repentant faith?  Irrespective of their response, free us to repent as unto you.

Some answers to this prayer are very clear to us. We know where we’ve “bowed our backs,” but now need to bend our knees in humility and repentance. But also convict us of the relationships we’d rather avoid till heaven. Bring times of refreshing, Abba—deep, sweet, Jesus-honoring times of refreshing. So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, your sovereignty is a mystery to us—generating hands raised in adoration, hands grasping for control, and hands wringing with confusion. When we finally believe our salvation is all by grace, the fear of death gives way to the certainty of heaven, and the burden of performancism topples under the joys of our justification. It’s a great relief to know Jesus is our perfect righteousness, not our self-salvation coach.

However, things get emotionally and spiritually complicated when your absolute sovereignty collides with the horrors of war, chronic pain, suffering children, multiple myeloma, and multiple disappointments. This was Job’s story, and you were his God… and ours.

So here we are again Father, not asking you to change, but trusting you for more grace: Supernatural grace to feel your peace when we don’t see your face. Super-abundant grace to affirm you are a good, good Father, when your ways contradict our sensibilities. Sufficient grace to boast in our weaknesses, and not just bemoan them. (2 Cor. 12:9).

You do whatever pleases you, Father, and we are grateful it over-pleased you to give Jesus to us, and for us. Ultimately, whatever pleases you will enthrall, hyper-gladden, and over-please us. By your Holy Spirit bring a bit of our perfect future into our messy present. Help us help each other in this journey of wrestling with and resting in your Fatherly sovereignty. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, serving us… it’s all you’ve ever done—starting with the grace of being our Creator. You created us and the entire cosmos (Col.1:16; John1:3), and you now sustain everything by the power of your word—things above, on, and below the earth (Heb.1:3). You are the ruler of the kings of the earth, all cicadas, and every crisis (Rev.1:5).

You are currently making all things wondrously new, and will finish with a flourish at your return, when you usher in the new heaven and new earth (Rev. 21:1-5). And on that Day, everything will be summed up in you (Eph. 1:10)—for you are the reason, meaning, and goal of everything that exists.

And as our Redeemer, you took the lowest place imaginable in life. Servant of servants—the promised “Servant of the Lord”—the “Yes” to every promise God has made (1Cor1:30). You didn’t come to us to be served, but to serve, and to give (your) life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:25). Even today, from our Father’s right hand, you are serving us—“continuously living to intercede for us—saving us completely” (Heb.7:25). Hallelujah, and thank you.

Even when you return, Jesus you will take the posture of our servant-Bridegroom, have us sit down, recline at the table of grace, where you will come and wait on us (Luke 12:37). Stunning, breathtaking, awe-fueling… Jesus, how can this be? You are coming back to serve us.

How then should we respond to your glory, grace, and servant love? By loving you with everything we have and are—by adoring and serving you until the Day of all things new. Hallelujah, what a Savior! Hallelujah, what a salvation. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, you occupy the throne of grace with gentleness and burden-bearing love. That’s good news on this October 23^rd, Monday morning. When we feel our weakest—when we feel like “flickering candles,” you don’t critique, lecture, or send us to the local “chandler” (candle maker). You welcome us with compassion and kindness. Thank you.

Some of us are beginning the week weary and wary—needing to be carried more than we need strength to carry on. While the normal demands of life remain, the backlog of unresolved conflicts, chronic messiness, and waiting-fatigue are taking their toll. The devil smells our vulnerability like a bear searching for honey. Jesus, protect us, grace us, shepherd us.

Help us understand the reality of our emotional depletion, trauma stress, mental tiredness, and spiritual spent-ness. When we’re too embarrassed to ask for help, have help knock on our door. When we’re wanting to run, show up on whatever running path we choose.

Jesus, for some of us… this prayer is a calling to have our grace-antenna fine tuned towards friends in fragile places needing rescue. Others of us are the ones needing rescue, and this prayer is the flare we now shoot heavenward. Some of us actually occupy both storylines—called to care and called to collapse on you. We look to you for grace for both—faithful and loving Jesus. So Very Amen.

Dear Jesus, how profound, how astonishing, how transforming… you don’t just pray for our joy, but that we would have the full measure of your joy. Though the complete answer to this prayer awaits your return, even now you are praying for our growth in joy. Topple our doubts. Grant us a fresh openness to the Spirit’s work in our hearts.

    Why do we need your joy? Because “the joy of the Lord is our strength” (Neh. 8:10), and we need all the strength you’ll give us, Jesus. Strength to live and love to your glory. Strength to forgive as you have forgiven us. Strength to believe the Gospel when our shame and fears feel more real than your grace.

Your joy isn’t dependent on circumstances, and it co-exists well with sadness. For you were both “anointed with the oil of joy” (Heb.1:9), and “a man of sorrows and very familiar with our grief” (Isa. 53:3). This comforts us deeply, Jesus, for sometimes we feel pressure to get over stuff and be up all the time.

Though it’s so much more, your joy brings a settled disposition of peace and delight—a humble certainty that our Father loves us as much as he loves you, that he is sovereign over everything, and that you are coming back for us with the unbridled, unfiltered joy of a loving Bridegroom. Hallelujah, and please do that soon! So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, teach us what this means—that our battles belong to you, not us. Whatever else it means, we are grateful you won the ultimate war being waged in our hearts. By your life, death, resurrection… two flags now fly over us—our white flag of surrender and your banner of love (Song of Songs 2:4).

As rebels, we’ve been reconciled to Abba, Father. As insurrectionists, you have triumphed over us through the Gospel. As independents, we’ve been adopted into a big grace-family. As captives to sin and the dominion of darkness, we’ve been rescued and delivered into the kingdom of your belovedness (Col. 1:13). Thank you Jesus.

Your cross was our Judgment Day. Your return will be our Wedding Day. Your present enthronement is our Peace-for-Every-Day. Hallelujah, and thank you, Lord! Since our battles are yours…  faith, hope, and love are the order of the day—not fear, despair, and anger. Practically, so very practically, what does this look like Jesus?

Help us trust you when the devil-lion roars (1Pet.5:8), when our own sinful desires wage war against our souls (1Pet.2:11), and when we wrongly believe “flesh and blood” (people) are our biggest enemies, not the “spiritual forces of evil” (Eph.6:12).

Jesus, you, yourself, are the whole “armor of God” (Eph.6:10-18)—our “righteousness, holiness, and redemption” (1Cor.1:30). And today, I (we) especially thank you for the “cavalry” you’ve given us—Gospel-friends who fight for our hearts, pray for us by the Spirit, bear our burdens, and go with us into the battles that remain. Thank you Jesus, and So Very Amen.

Gracious Father, many voices vie for our attention. Some voices condemn and shame us. Others distract us with trifles, ditties, and nonsense—like the pop-up ads that annoy us then grab us. Other voices, like the devil’s, woo us in an attempt to seduce and destroy us. But the unfiltered monologue we carry on with ourselves is often the most destructive voice of all. Judging anyone with two legs, comparing ourselves to anybody within envy’s reach, and replaying childhood tapes of “You’ll never measure up, be enough, or matter.”

But… HALLELUJAH… then there’s the voice of the Holy Spirit. Oh, how we praise you Father for one voice that can transcend, drown out, and triumph over every other voice. He’s the gossiper of your grace, the herald of our hope, the bearer of Jesus’ truth, goodness, and beauty—the messenger of mercy, the songster of Gospel-sanity—God the Holy Spirit. He is constantly proclaiming to our innermost self that we are your bought, belonging, and beloved children. Turn up the volume and heal our hearing.

Father, free us from slavish fears, lying spirits, and the voices of vanity. Make the legal rights and personal delights of being your children more real, precious, and defining than anything else in our lives. As your grace-adopted daughters and sons, you love us as much as you love Jesus. Hallelujah, help our unbelief, and So Very Amen.

Dear Jesus, it may be a grandmother, possibly a granddaughter, maybe our spiritual parents or one of our three best friends, but we all have someone we would do anything possible not to grieve—that is, to cause sadness, distress, or lament. Intentionally, or innocently, hurting someone’s heart we love isn’t a small thing.

And yet, that’s exactly what we do to you, Jesus, when we allow “bitterness, rage, anger, brawling, slander, and malice” to settle into our hearts, seep into our attitudes, and seethe in our relationships. Truly, to grieve the Holy Spirit is to grieve you, because you live in our hearts by the Spirit. You are that near, and we are that dear to you. We’ll never shock you, cause you to love us less, or incite you to reject us. Hallelujah, that will never happen. But we can grieve you, Jesus, and we want to take that to heart.

The pettiness of your disciples grieved you when they argued about who was the greatest (Mark 10:35-45). It grieved you when Peter tried to keep you from going to the cross (Matt. 16:22-28). It grieved you when Philip, who had walked with you three years, still didn’t realize who you were (John 14:8-9).

When we harbor resentment and linger in bitterness—refusing to do the costly heart-work of kindness, compassion, and forgiving… understandably, it grieves you Jesus (Matt18:21-35). Help us, free us… So Very Amen.

Dear Jesus, once again we bless you for the “humanness” of your Word. Jeremiah was living in an “awful time”—a stretch of life that brought with it “the grief of loss.” We don’t know all the details, but we do appreciate his honesty. And we also appreciate his wisdom. “Calling to mind” you and your steadfast love was better than a lot of other choices he could have made.

You told us life between your resurrection and return will bring both wonderful and woe-full experiences—things that generate the shout, “Thank you Lord!”; and things that fuel the cry, “How long O Lord?” Indeed, “in this world we will (not might) have trouble; but we also have you, your peace, and the guaranteed outcome of you overcoming the world for us (John 16:33). Thank you. We’re also grateful that (unlike Jeremiah), we live on this side of your finished cross, empty tomb, and occupied throne.

Jesus, help us call all these things to mind when life is messy, impossible, crushing, even mildly disappointing. We’re always calling something or someone to mind—especially when we’re in our version of an “awful time.”

Help us break the cycle of blaming, “cynical-sizing” (new word), recalling everybody else’s sins (but our own), wallowing in shame, heaping on contempt, forgetting the Gospel. When we let our minds drift (or run) to these places, it only sabotages hope, robes you of glory, and makes everybody miserable. Forgive and free us. For new morning mercies and your steadfast love, we give you praise Jesus. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, thank you for the gift of another day. This is the Tuesday you have made; and we want to be glad and rejoice in it—no matter our age, stage, or circumstances. Being “in our prime” has more to do with enjoying intimate friendship with you than our age, wrinkles, “abs,” and blood work. You are the one friend we have who loves us at all times—at our best, worst, and in between.

And as the best friend imaginable, we thank you for giving us other friends with whom to share intimate friendship with you. Indeed, blessed is she/he who is walking with a group of grace-loving friends—a Gospel-posse for whom boasting in you is the main “bragging” that goes on.

Amigos and Amigas who share life in Christ and life on mission—savoring the joys and accepting the heartaches of life between your resurrection and return. Resting in your love, repenting and laughing with equal ease, giving each other more listening than fixing, more encouragement than suggestions… no portfolio, estate, or inheritance is of greater value.

Oh Jesus, thank you for befriending us in the Gospel. Thank you for intimate friendship with you and with our heart-mates. It’s still stunning, centering, and freeing to hear you say to us, “I no longer call you servants; I call you friends” (John 15:15). We are humbled. We are glad. Hallelujah, we are yours. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, if the question is, “What’s the bottom-line, “whole enchilada,” main thing we’re to focus on till heaven?”… the final verse in Ephesians perfectly sums it up. We are to love you with an “undying love.”

Loving you with everything we have and are… what a glorious calling, heart-consuming vocation, and life-shaping honor. It’s the only worthy response to who you are, Jesus, and the way you love us in the Gospel. You love us with a measureless, incomparable, inexhaustible love (Eph.3:18-19). As our Savior, you love us with a perfect and complete salvation, all the way Home.

As our Bridegroom, you love us with a passion and delight beyond our imagining. As our Lord you love us with uncontested sovereignty, working in all things for our good. As our Good Shepherd, you love us with providential care and kindness—even in the valley of death’s shadow.

As our Friend, you love us in our brokenness, sin, and weakness as no one else can or would. It’s why we sing these words loudly and joyfully, “Jesus! What a friend for sinners! Jesus! Lover of my soul; Friends may fail me, foes assail me, He, my Savior, makes me whole.” Hallelujah, and thank you Jesus.

Your love for us is the main constant in our lives, only equaled by our constant need for it. Jesus, re-stoke the fires of our love for you. Restore the love we first had for you. Then super-size it, intensify it, and channel it for your glory and redeeming purposes in our world. So Very Amen.

Dear Jesus, this verse is pertinent and precious. This past week we celebrated the 30^th, and probably the last, “Gathering of Friends”—a group of pastors who’ve shared life and the riches of the Gospel, treasured conversations and the emerging weaknesses of aging. We started in our 40’s, now most of us are in our 70’s. How can that be, Lord?

You’ve already called three of our group Home—Tim Keller, Dick Kaufman, and Harry Reeder. How many “numbered days” remain for the rest of us? Hallelujah, that’s in your heart and hands, and won’t be determined by anyone or anything else. But here’s my ponder-worthy questions, I ask you with peace and sincerity: Jesus, what deserves more, and less, of my heart and time?

What should I move from “back burner” status to the front “burner?” I’m not retired and don’t ever plan on using that word, but make clear how I can best serve you and the advancing of the Gospel all the way Home. “Bucket lists” are great, but “to love lists” are way more important. In what relationships would you have me primarily invest? What have I not “put in order” that needs to be?

Jesus—even before heaven, what greater freedom, joy, and “like-you-ness” do you intend for me? If you choose to give me, (and each of you), 3 months, 7 years, or 2 decades, make this our core conviction: “The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself in love” (Gal. 5:6). Loving you as you deserve, and loving others as you love us. You alone are worthy, Jesus. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, like most emotive words, “hate” can be used actually and metaphorically. Teach us the difference. Help us steward the important emotion of hatred. Though I “hate” long checkout lines, finding an empty ice cream carton in the freezer, and Duke beating UNC in anything; that’s not the same thing as hating human trafficking, hating the pornography “industry,” hating war, and hating my own sin.

Help us hate what you hate Jesus—with a passionate, pure, show-up-and-be-a-part-of-the-solution hatred. Vengeance belongs to you, not us. Since you have defeated evil and put an expiration date on all of it, we live with hope on mission. Our labors of love in your name will never be in vain. There will never be a wasted preaching of the Gospel, or futile caring for the vulnerable and poor, or pointless act of mercy and justice.

Likewise, Jesus, we know “love” can also be used actually and metaphorically. I “love” low humidity, Carolina-blue-sky days. I love fly fishing and trout catching. I love flourless chocolate cake. But loving you is never to be a metaphor, allegory, simile, or mere sentimental feeling. Though we will only love you as you deserve when you return, please restore the love we had for you at first (Rev.2:4)—when we first rested in the riches of the Gospel and the wonders of your love. But don’t leave us there.

Jesus, may your truth, goodness, and beauty simply take over, and take us into a love for you that is beyond all we can ask for imagine. May the excellency of knowing you and being loved by you become the most defining and delighting realities in our lives (Phil.3:7-11). So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, not just on the night of your birth, or the morning you walked out of the tomb, or the moment we were born from above… but every day in every place in a multitude of ways, you continue to appear. You show up in mercy, with fresh grace in the shape of our needs. We’ll never exhaust your kindness and love.

Whether it’s “out of the blue,” or from within dark clouds. Sometimes with a whisper, bang, or song… but you never leave us or forsake us. You meet us through our friends, always by your Word, and often by some unexpected providence. Quite often, you “show up” when we look up, and realize you didn’t go anywhere.

Though we’d like to dictate when and how you appear, looking back (perhaps only from heaven), we will never conclude you were late, uncaring, or got it wrong. Like Martha, in our grief and shortsightedness, we also say, “Lord, if you had been here…” (John11:21); but, though we have plenty of mystery-laced days, we will never have a Christ-absent one. Thank you.

As war, our worries, and “what if’s?” continue, we will say to our hearts, “Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from Him” (Ps.62:1). Our hope isn’t in chariots or horses, but in your empty tomb and occupied throne. We SO look forward to the Day you will appear from heaven to finish making all things new. But until then, you are above us, with us, in us, and for us. And that is enough. Hallelujah, and So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, being aware of how people experience us is as daily as breathing, and can be as deadly as poison. Around some people we feel and act like “grasshoppers”—small, vulnerable, and powerless. Around others, we primarily feel judged, shamed, and unwelcome—like the way Simon the Pharisee treated you, and the woman who washed your feet with her tears (Luke 7:36-50).

As our Creator, you’ve given us a relational-DNA that intensely craves you, Jesus—a relentless hunger and thirst that only you can satisfy. Mere people—even really good ones, will never be enough. At best, our most enjoyable human relationships are a gift, hint, and taste of what it means to belong to you. At worst, we use them as a substitute for you Jesus, and that never goes well. Forgive us and free us.

As our Redeemer, you died to make us your Bride—desired, delighted, and yours forever. We are already more married to you than we’ll ever be married to a human spouse—and 1000 times more loved. Jesus, make this more precious and real than anybody’s opinion of us—including our own.

And by your finished work, we have also become beloved children of God—his daughters, sons, and heirs. Stunning, hard to grasp, but more true than we realize. Jesus, keep freeing us from the “approval-suck” inside of us. We are who you say we are—who you’ve actually made us, redeemed us, and freed us to be. Hallelujah, and thank you. So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, help us. It gets confusing. Grace us. It’s really hard at times. When does an appropriate longing for justice cross over into resentment, hate, and get-even madness? Being slighted is one thing; being pummeled by betrayals, deceit, and lies is different. Grieving the events in Israel and Ukraine connects us with stories much closer to home and heart.

Through the power of your Holy Spirit, the resources of the Gospel, and the gift of community—don’t let our healthy anger morph into destructive revenge. Don’t let our hurts become a band of vigilante marauders, not just bent on getting even, but upping the ante—repaying harm for harm, evil for evil, and death for death. That’s not getting even; it’s setting up a recipe for loss of heart and health.

Don’t let our vulnerable hearts become gardens for the planting of roots of resentment, bushes of bitterness, hedges of hate. Father, as you forgave us in Jesus, help us even want to forgive others. Then free us to forgive. Make the Gospel more defining than our pain. Write stories of redemption and restoration with the two inks of our temporal hurt and your eternal grace. We pray for the peace of Israel, Ukraine, our circle of relationships and the heart beating within our chest. So Very Amen.

   Heavenly Father, thank you. May we never forget, and may we more fully believe: Jesus is your “Yes!”, and the Spirit is your guarantee of everything you promised in the Bible. This doesn’t make life easy, but it does tame our fears and fuel our hope.

Whether we’re waking up to the horrors of war (which we are), the uncertainty of health challenges, how little we are like Jesus, or how much we’d love to control outcomes… every “episode” of world history and chapter in our stories bows its knee to your sovereign purposes.

So what are some of your promises that claim us on this October Tuesday? You promised to eradicate all sin, evil, and brokenness, and usher in the new heaven and new earth at Jesus’ return. This moves us to sigh with relief and cry out, “Thank you, and how soon, Abba?”

You promised to redeem your every-nation family—a family so big, you used stars, sand, and dust as its numeric descriptor. You promised to finish making all things new (Rev.21:5) and to complete your good work in us (Phil.1:6). This dazzles us, and moves us to shout with joy, “Hallelujah!”

You promised Jesus IS our already our perfect “righteousness, holiness, and redemption” (1Cor.1:30), and that you will love and keep us all the way Home. This moves us to weep and worship, and loudly proclaim… “To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever!” (Rev.5:13). So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, watching nations rally for and against Israel is heartbreaking and fear-fueling. But it’s no shock or even a surprise. The history of redemption is playing out right before our eyes.

“Nations conspire and the peoples plot in vain. The kings of the earth rise up and the rulers band together against you and against your appointed, anointed Messiah and Son, the Lord Jesus” (Psalm 2:1-2). The hatred we’re witnessing is really directed towards you and Jesus, not towards one nation in the Middle East. War is a repudiation and reviling of you and what you have promised to do through Jesus—through the Gospel.

As the Messiah, Jesus is the “one Jew” in Zechariah’s vision—the Lord who became the Lamb, your Son who is the heir of all nations and the entire earth (Ps.2:8; Heb.1:1-3). You sent Jesus to save Jew and Gentiles on the same basis—by grace alone through faith alone.

Because of Jesus’ finished work, “a vast crowd, too great to count, from every nation and tribe and people and language” will stand in front of the throne and before Jesus—converted Jews and Gentiles together, clothed in Jesus’ righteousness… one beloved Bride, one gloriously redeemed people, one forever-family populating the new heaven and new earth (Revelation 7; 21:1-5). We SO long for that Day.

Father, we pray for a quick end to the war in and against Israel. It’s exactly the same prayer we pray for Ukraine. In the middle of all the evil and terrorism, bring many Jews, Russians, Iranians, Ukrainians, Turks, Americans, etc. to a sure and saving knowledge of Jesus. So Very Amen.

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Lord Jesus, it seems like month, week, day… make that minute, our craving for your return gets ramped up, intensified, and supersized. With a holy hate, we hate war, whether it’s in Ukraine, Israel, or Somalia, or in churches and marriages, between friends or in our own hearts. No one paid a greater price to bring final and full peace—to the entire cosmos and our forever calendar. Thank you, and soon, please.

You are the Prince of Peace because you were the Lamb of God. You defeated evil on the cross, and it will be eradicated at your return. Because of your finished work, we live in anticipation of the Day when all swords and spears will become garden tools. Nations won’t fight each other, but will dance with each other and serve one another.

Our “forever-curriculum” won’t be learning to war, but loving to love. All malevolence, meanness, and madness will be gone. The consummate peace of your Kingdom will replace every expression of sin, death, and evil. Harming, hating, and being hated will never happen again.

This is what you promised, and will provide, Lord Jesus: “They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea” (Isa.11:9) Hasten that Day. Until then, may we live as active peacemakers, not passive conflict-avoiders. So very Amen we pray, in your triumphant and exalted name.

Heavenly Father, Psalm 136 is a great gift to us—just like every portion of your Word. In each of its 26 verses, this same declaration, “His love endures forever,” reverberates twenty-six times with escalating joy. Your love for us in Jesus is the most glorious, necessary, satisfying, unwavering, centering, liberating, hope-giving reality in our lives. I only offered 7 affirmations of your incomparable love because 7 is the number of perfection and your love is truly perfect.

  Your love endures forever: Your love—not puppy love (though puppies are great). Not performance-based love—based on something we are or do. Not dew-like infatuation—thick in the morning, gone by noon. Not human love—important and wonderful, but a mere whisper and hint of the only love better than life.

Your love endures forever: We cannot add to your love or diminish it. You’ll never love us more than you do right now in this very moment—including on the Day Jesus returns, and you make us completely like him. This is hard to believe, Father. Help us. Free us. Then help and free us some more.

Your love endures forever: Unlike any and every relationship we’ve ever had, there’s no end to your love, Abba. You’ll never lose the capacity to love us. You’ll never get dementia and forget us. We’ll never become unlovable, boring, or too familiar to you. With you as our perfect Father, Jesus as our righteousness and Bridegroom, and the Holy Spirit as our permanent heart-guest and comforter… we are stunned, overwhelmed, and eternally grateful. So Very Amen.

   Heavenly Father, thanks for the first weekend of October 2023. Here in Franklin, TN, it’s bringing cooler temps and, before long, magnificent multi-colored leaves. But the verse we’re pondering and praying today is already magnificent. What a God you are. What a Gospel we celebrate. What a beloved people we are.

   Though it’s an incomplete sentence, Eph.2:4 has a specific context and resolution in Ephesians 2. Paul was reflecting on our great need for salvation—describing how we are “dead in our sin and trespasses”—in the morgue, not the ER. We didn’t need resolve and reform; we needed resurrection grace and righteousness by faith. You complied by giving Jesus to us, and for us, and we shout “Hallelujah!”

   No matter how desperate our situation, how uncertain our future, or how out-of-control things feel—this incomplete sentence will finish the paragraph, story, and our lives. “But God, being rich in mercy, because of his great love for us…”

   Father, whether our biggest burden is loved ones’ struggles or personal issues—no matter if it’s lingering shame, lasting regrets, or looming fears… because of what you’ve done for us by Jesus, three things in Paul’s incomplete sentence completely meet our deepest needs.

   (1) “But God” claims all of our challenges, crises, and crucibles until heaven. (2) You are “rich in mercy”—not meager, miserly, but generous. (3) You have “great love for us”—not just great love, but great love “for us.” Though much remains imperfect in us and all around us, the Gospel is already perfect, and we are already perfectly “in Christ.” Hallelujah, and So Very, Very Amen.

]]> https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/scotty-smith/in-the-challenging-in-between-space/ Thu, 05 Oct 2023 10:41:32 +0000 https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/?post_type=scotty-smith&p=574145  “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength…” Hab. 3:17-19   Heavenly Father, thank you for including Habakkuk’s faith-struggle in your Word. Sometimes it’s the stories that voice doubt, weakness, and a blank stare  that help us the most. Habakkuk was deeply troubled by your choice to use a pagan nation...]]>  “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength…” Hab. 3:17-19

Heavenly Father, thank you for including Habakkuk’s faith-struggle in your Word. Sometimes it’s the stories that voice doubt, weakness, and a blank stare  that help us the most. Habakkuk was deeply troubled by your choice to use a pagan nation (the Babylonians) to discipline your people. Fig-less, grape-less, olive-less days were coming. The threat of barren fields and empty stalls fueled fear, anger, and vulnerability.

Habakkuk’s resolution to rejoice in you—to trust you as his Savior and Sovereign in most unsettling circumstances, wasn’t stoicism (keeping a stiff upper lip), foolishness (spitting in the wind), or denial (detachment, spinning, and pretending). It was honest lament, taking baby-steps by faith in the darkness, and utterly abandoning himself to you.

Habakkuk knew your goodness before his faith crisis. And he knew your promise to one Day “fill the earth with the knowledge of your glory of the LORD as the waters cover the sea” (Hab.2:14). In between the two, life got very hard and his faith got really tested.

Abba, Father… this is where some of my friends are living right now—in the challenging in-between-space… between knowing what you’ve done for us in Jesus and waiting for the Day when you’ll make all things new. Between Jesus’ resurrection and return many things can happen that make our heads spin, our hearts struggle, and our faith teeter. That’s where you meet us, hold us, and hold us even tighter. We’d love answers, but you give us grace. Thank you Abba. In this day, we long for the Day. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, you could have described yourself in a number of ways—Creator and sustainer of everything; Lamb of God, Lord of lords, Lamp of the new heaven and new earth; reigning King and returning Bridegroom…all which are gloriously true. But you chose “gentle and humble in heart” to describe your inner disposition and perpetual compassion for us (Matt. 11:19). Hallelujah, and thank you.

By the truth and riches of the Gospel, gentle us, Jesus. De-harsh us, de-barb, de-contempt us… and fill us with your Spirit, kindness, and humility. At a time when many are easily triggered and thinned-skinned, grant us the revolutionary power of a non-anxious, non-judgmental, caring presence. We’d love to be known more for kindness than rightness—more for responding with good listening than a rush to judgment.

Jesus, speak quietness, peace, and tenderness deep into our hearts. You’re not calling us to be passive and indifferent, but to trust you more and rest in your love. Calm the storm of our fears. Liberate us for your glory and our tongues for your praise. Continue to show us where we’re not as free as you intend, joyful as you pray, or trusting as you deserve. May our gentleness grow more and more evident to all. So VERY Amen

Dear Jesus, may Psalm 63 be the permanent setting of our heart’s GPS. Blessed are the desperate. Blessed are those who realize only you can slake the thirst of our hearts—whether we’re in an arid desert or standing below Niagara Falls.

Vs. 2 – “I have seen you in your sanctuary and gazed upon your power and glory.”  In the sanctuary of the Gospel is where we find you to be more beautiful than we ever imagined, more loving than hoped, and ever ready to renew, refresh, and restore us.

Vs. 3 – “Your unfailing love is better than life itself; how I praise you!”  Jesus, in your presence, our desperation becomes delight—first your delight in us, then ours in you. For your love is better than life itself. It is as unwavering as it is limitless, as liberating as it is lavish, and more life-giving than oxygen, water, and bread.

Vs. 4 – “I will praise you as long as I live, lifting up my hands to you in prayer.” – Our desperation and delight lead to our dependence on you, Jesus—for everything we need, and all that you promise. We lift our hearts, hands, our whole being to you.

Vs. 5 – “You satisfy me more than the richest feast. I will praise you with songs of joy.” No feast or banquet, riches or inheritance, relationship or romance satisfy us the way you do, Jesus. May our lips and life offer a joyful song to your glory.

Vs. 7-8  – “Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. I cling to you; your right hand upholds me.” – You “help” us the way resurrection “helps” death. We cling to you, but it is your embrace that holds us, and will never let go of us. Hallelujah, and So Very Amen.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing…” (Rom. 15:13)

“May the God of peace be with you all. Amen.” (Rom. 15:33)

Gracious Father, thank you for revealing yourself—for wanting us to know who you really are, and how fully committed you are to caring for us. From Genesis though Revelation you reveal yourself to be the God of all grace, and in just one chapter (Romans 15) out of 1169 chapters in the Bible, you tell us you are…

  “The God of endurance and encouragement”—and we need an ample supply of each. You know us by name, geography, and circumstance, so you don’t have to guess what our struggles are. Grant us endurance and encouragement perfectly shaped for our individual stories.

  “The God of hope.” In our world of fragility, hostility, and uncertainty, give us 20/15 vision of these 5 things: (1) your 100% joyfully occupied throne. (2) Jesus’ stunning beauty. (3) The place in Lamb’s book of life where each of our names is written with the indelible ink of your grace. (4) A fresh peek at wonders of our coming life in new heaven and new earth. (5) On heaven’s calendar, the date of Jesus’ return circled boldly in multiple colors.

“The God of peace.” Abba, may your peace rule in our hearts—not just be the “window dressing,” background music, or occasional sentiment. Indeed, may your peace shrink our fears, intensify our joy, and free us to live and love to your glory all the way Home. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, meditating on these two verses is like standing under a waterfall of grace. They help us understand what the Apostle Paul meant when he spoke of “the height, depth, width, and breadth” of your love for us (Eph.3:18-20). Seven ponder-worthy things stand out to me. Thank you for each of them. Thank you for loving us like this…

1. We are your sheep—the emphasis is on our “your-ness,” not our “sheepy-ness.” Belonging to you changes everything, Jesus.
2. You speak to us. We’ll never get the silent treatment from you, Jesus. You communicate and commune with us all the time—by your Word and Spirit. Oh, to listen better.
3. You know us. In fact, you are the only one who knows us fully and fully loves us. You don’t know us like a riddle to solve, but as a Bride to love.
4. We follow you. Which means you’re always leading us, Jesus—always near and engaged as our Good Shepherd. You’re not “way up there” pulling for us; you are right here, taking us further in and further up into the wonders of your love.
5. You give us eternal life. You gave it to us the moment you gave us faith to trust you as our Savior. And until the Day you return, you will continue to expand our understanding and experience of every good thing we have in you.
6. We will never perish. We will die, but we’ll never perish! Death is now “stingless” for us—in fact, it’s a gain.
7. We are un-snatch-able from your hand and heart. Hallelujah!!! Jesus, from head to toe, inside and out, inundate us with all this Gospel-goodness. So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, what a story this Psalm tells—from the pit of despair to robust singing. Though our “pits” differ from King David’s, we can relate to his helplessness, and long for his joyfulness. Meet us where we are, and take us where you please.

Some of us are in a messy-story pit, with no clear resolution insight. Good people—your people often experience the same situation very differently. Bring your grace to the fraying edges of our waiting, patience, and kindness. The “err on the side of mercy” isn’t to err; it’s to trust you.

Others are in a fearful pit of failing health—ours or someone we love. Some are in what they wouldn’t call a pit, but a crater or not-so-grand canyon of marriage or parenting despair. Some are watching a friend(s) jump into a pit with a shovel in hand, to dig the pit even deeper. Father, thank you the Gospel provides all-pit grace.

Lastly, some of us might be in an old or new pit of poor-choices—the consequence of an unguarded heart and soul-drift. We haven’t disowned you, and much more importantly, you haven’t disowned us. But the feeling of disconnect is real, and the way home is unclear. We grieve our sin, blame no one, make no excuses. Abba, grant today’s mercy, fresh grace, and the welcome you promise. So Very Amen.

Vs. 14 – “Since we believe that Christ died for all, we also believe that we have all died to our old life.” – Jesus, thank you for the richness and reach of your death for us, and its stunning implications. When you died, we were co-crucified with you, and raised to newness of life (Gal.2:20; Rom.6:4-5). We have been set free from our old way of life, that we may live and love to your glory. You aren’t an add on or even the most important reality in our lives. You are our life, Jesus… period.

Vs. 15 – “ He (Jesus) died for everyone so that those who receive his new life will no longer live for themselves. Instead, they will live for Christ, who died and was raised for them.” – Jesus, free us to live by, with, and for you… in every context of life: In our relationships and current season of life. In our greatest sufferings and deepest joys. As we inhabit a world of brokenness and anticipate the Day of all things new. Hallelujah, Jesus, and So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, I begin every day grateful for your daily mercies, eternal kindness, and measureless generosity. Today I need what you promise in this verse. I need wisdom—wisdom for loving well in complex relationships and broken storylines. And I’m sure I’m in good company.

Abba, help us know the difference between overlooking a fault and covering up something that needs to be dealt with “now.” When does patience turn into denial, and turning the other cheek become unhealthy enabling? When is “trying to be nice” just a form of spiritualized conflict avoidance? When should we risk losing relationship because of a greater commitment to honor you and protect others?

Father, help me—help us steward our history of trauma and emotional triggers. Slow us down when we begin to import backlogged pain into fresh wounds. Someone who hurt us this year isn’t responsible for the accumulated harm we carry from previous years.

Continue to reveal the wounds we carry still needing your grace, surgery, and rehab. And make clear the relational patterns I (we) learned in response to abandonment, betrayal, neglect, and abuse. Father, grant us grace for repairing and repenting.

Because of the Gospel, a Day is coming when we will be made perfect in love, and we will love perfectly forever. And, hallelujah, also because of the Gospel, you already love us perfectly, fully, and will do so forever. That changes everything, Abba. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, this is certainly one of the greatest understatements in the entire Bible. It’s right up there with saying you alone are worthy of our love and  worship—perhaps the greatest understatement ever uttered in all of history.

Saying it’s “good” for us to have grace-strengthened hearts is like saying it’s “good” to breath, drink water, consume food, and sleep. In this sense, “good” really means essential. The more our hearts are strengthened by your grace, the more they will beat for your glory and be enthralled with your beauty.

We will repent quicker, walk in more humility, and abide longer and deeper in your love. We will have thicker skin and bigger hearts, which will help us be harder to offend and better at believing the best. We’ll throw more Gospel-parties than pity-parties. We’ll ask—perhaps several times a day, “What will faith expressing itself in love look like in this situation?”—since that’s the only thing that counts (Gal.5:6).

We’ll be more generous with our time, talents, and treasures; and less likely to hoard resentments, grudges, and irritations. Giving people the benefits of grace will override our desire to give them a “piece of our mind.” Heaven will become more attractive, and life in this world more about serving than accumulating. Oh… to be this free.

    Jesus, lead us to the gym, training table, sauna, spa, and regimens that will cause our hearts to grow stronger and stronger in your grace. So Very Amen.

Isaiah – “Remember the things I have done in the past. For I alone am God! … Everything I plan will come to pass, for I do whatever I wish” (Isa. 46:9-10).

Job – “I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted” (Job 42:2).

Heavenly Father, trios have marked my 73 2/3 years. The Three Wise Men, Larry, Moe, and Curly; Huey, Dewey, and Louie; The Three Musketeers; The Bee Gees; Luke, Leia, and Han; Crosby, Stills, and Nash… and many more. But right now, my favorite trio is King David, Isaiah, and Job. Though they weren’t “hang out” friends in life, they are now in heaven.

Their stories affirm you work in apparent and not so apparent ways. You are always in control, always working for our good—even when your timetable differs from our druthers, and you accomplish your purposes through our pain.

You were sovereign over King David’s challenged rule, crazy family, and personal failures. You were sovereign over Isaiah’s difficult ministry, fractured world, and Messianic promises—which he hoped would be fulfilled in his lifetime.  You were sovereign over Job’s losses and betrayals, misery and waiting, horrible health and faith struggles. This trio of brothers now realizes you weren’t exaggerating about your plans, sovereignty, and goodness. You do all things well, even though you don’t do all things comfortable to us.

Our trust is in you—Abba Father, Lord Jesus, and Holy Spirit—blessed Trinity of faithfulness, generosity, and perfection. Faith, hope, and love do remain (1Cor.13:13), and we will seek to love as you love us, all the way Home. By your Word, the Gospel, and the friends you’ve given us—we have all we need until the Day of all things new. Hallelujah… and So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, what a fabulous passage to fuel our gratitude and orient our hearts for the next several days. Thank you for the “eternal encouragement and good hope” we’ve already received through the Gospel. Our future is looking awesome! You conquered death for us and have given us irrevocable citizenship in heaven. Thank you! But there’s more.

When you return, Jesus, you will usher in the new heaven and new earth (Rev.21:1-5), and we’ll finally realize what you weren’t exaggerating. Our eternity will be exponentially beyond anything that’s ever dazzled our eyes or caused our ears to dance—lightyears beyond anything our hearts have the capacity to dream, imagine, or hope (1 Cor.2:9). Again, thank you!

It’s precisely because we have “eternal encouragement and good hope” we look to you this week for present encouragement and functional hope. Strengthen us, Lord. Some of us are facing transitions, challenges, and “surprises.” Some of us remain in chronic pain, exhausting relationships, and jobs we’d gladly trade for a pet rabbit. By your Holy Spirit, assure us that you are aware, in control, and are at work for our good. Forgive us when we think otherwise.

Help us to worship more than we worry, bless more than we curse, and rest more than we resent. Jesus, as we trust and wait upon you, may our words and choices honor you this week. So Very Amen.

Dear Jesus, we know we love you only because you first loved us. Equally and wondrously so, we can delight ourselves in you because you first delighted in us. The “place of safety” to which you led us is now our permanent address—”in Christ.” In union with you, we have everything we need, and more than we can imagine or hope.

 Delighting in you… not a polite, hands-folded, “respectful,” sleepy knowledge of you, Jesus; but one that leads us to cry out with joy, “I am my beloved’s and his desire is for me.” You aren’t just our “portion,” Lord, but our whole inheritance. You don’t just satisfy us, you are the whole banquet, feast, and orchestra, Jesus. Your love doesn’t just give us life, it is “better than life” (Ps. 63:3). Make that more than a verse we quote. Make it a reality we live.

We understand delight, and it is to your glory that we experience and express delight. We delight in our grandchildren—getting in body positions, wearing things, and making sounds that would otherwise embarrass us. We delight in our pets, with unfettered, unfiltered joy. We delight in low dew point days, cloudless skies, and a setting sun—wrapped around a group of friends sharing a buffet of great food and encouragement.

These gifts come from you, Jesus, so free us to experience and express our greatest delight in you—the Giver of all good gifts. You are the deepest desire of our heart; become our heart’s greatest delight. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, what a bold affirmation from King David at a time when his own son, Absalom, was seeking to take his life. Nothing has to change for us to have your joy in the depths of our hearts. It’s not that your joy replaces all sadness, fear, and anger. Rather, your joy “de-weaponizes” those important emotions.

Your joy, which is our strength, enables us to bring our feelings to you. Whatever makes us sad, anxious, and angry isn’t ultimate. Only you are, Jesus, and your will for us and the entire cosmos. We can lie down and sleep in the peace of knowing you are with us and for us. Nothing can separate us from your love, diminish your delight in us, or silence your singing over us. Nothing.

We can live each day in the safety of knowing not a hair can fall from our heads, not a breath can be snatched from our lungs, not a beat can be missed by our hearts apart from your sovereign purpose and pleasure. Though death remains until you return, you’ve already defeated its “victory” and obliterated its sting (1Cor.15:55). Thank you, Jesus.

The “more joy” (Ps.4:7) you’ve put (and re-stock!) in our hearts is not only greater than having bounteous “grain and wine” (economic prosperity). It’s also greater than us having control over anybody, being adored by anyone, or us getting our way in anything… and that’s saying a lot, Jesus. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, it’s Friday, and some of us are heading into the weekend feeling surrounded by a variety of demands, depletions, joy-nibbling piranha, and yet-to-be-resolved tensions. The Apostle Paul said it well on our behalf: “Everywhere we turned, we had conflicts and disputes on the outside, and fears and dread on the inside” (2Cor.7:5).

But there’s always a greater “surrounded-ness” going on. Jesus, open our eyes to see more than a “hillside filled with horses and chariots.” Help us see your every-direction provision for us. Behind us is your finished cross and empty tomb. Above us is heaven’s occupied throne and your constant intercession. Underneath us are Abba’s everlasting arms (Deut. 33:27).

Wrapped around us is your perfect righteousness and the embrace of our Father. Inside us there’s the Spirit’s unbreakable sealing and his non-stop testimony to our belovedness as God’s children (Rom.8:16). In every nook and cranny, angels are working on our behalf—“the heirs of salvation” (Heb. 1:14). In front of us is an eternity of all things new and everything beautiful (Rev.21:1-22:6).

And, hallelujah Jesus, thank you for our friends—our various Gospel-posses. For they are the ones who are riding in “chariots of grace”—showing up, coming alongside of us, picking us up, fighting our battles with us and for us. It’s true, Jesus, “it might look like we’re surrounded, but we’re surrounded by you.” Thank you and So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, your forbearance, patience, and kindness towards us are on display all the time—ALL the time. We’ve used this passage in ways you never intended—actually, in the opposite way you want us to think about money, selfishness, and generosity. You don’t teach “give to get.” This isn’t a “fail-proof” investment scheme. It’s just the way generosity works in relationship with you. It’s the tempo of grace and the rhythm of the Gospel.

We’ll never regret being generous. For sure, we can be taken advantage of, because you even tell us to be generous with love, goodness, blessing, and prayer for our enemies (Luke 6:27-28). We will never be generous without experiencing a far greater return. The return may not be “in kind,” or in a time frame that we recognize. But we will have a “full lap” of whatever you choose to give us, whenever, however you choose.

In fact, Jesus, your giving is always prior, during, and after ours. In union with you, we have a wide variety of currencies to spend for the benefit of others—money, time, mercy, grace, forgiveness, encouragement, and kindness—and that’s just 7 of many. You lovingly, wisely made us stewards, not owners, of whatever you give us. Forgive us, free us, and supersize our gratitude and generosity. So Very Amen.

Dear Jesus, a song from the soundtrack of my youth asks the question, “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted?” It’s an important question, not asked enough. I know what I did with mine. I medicated it poorly. I tried to bandage my heart wounds with denial, disconnect, and distancing myself from anything or anyone that threatened more pain. None of those end well.

I was a false prophet to myself—like those you rebuked in Jeremiah’s day, for “healing the wounds of my people lightly” (Jer. 6:14). And because I wouldn’t make time for my pain, I had little patience, kindness, and presence to offer others in their pain.

Fortunately, the tinker-toy, scotch taped scaffolding of my self-healing collapsed under the weight of your grace. You came near Jesus, and you haven’t left. To suffer is to be human, but to experience healing for our heart wounds is to be yours. Not content just to prepare your Bride for heaven, you bring a good measure of heart-healing that we might come alive before we die.

By your mercy, gentleness, and kindness, I’m still in the healing journey—a process that has a most wonderful end in view (Rev. 21:1-22:6). Our wounds from loss, the fear of more trauma, and the shame we still bear of not being enough… all these things matter to you and you claim them. Jesus, “you give the healing and grace our hearts always hunger for,” for you are a most “wonderful, merciful Savior” indeed. So Very Amen.

Dear Jesus, no matter how we translate, parse, or paraphrase this one verse from your Word, it makes us immediately grateful for at least three things: 1. New mercies as this day begins (and continues). 2. Abba, Father’s commitment to finish his work in us, making us like you (Phil. 1:6). 3. Lastly, the height, depth, width, and breadth of your incomparable love for us (Eph.3:18).

For only you love like this, Jesus. And it’s the way you love us right now, and the way you are committed to loving others through us. Having born our sin on the cross, you now bear and forbear all the ways we love poorly. You know the worst about us, and you still love us. You believe the best about us, because you’ve given the best to us—your righteousness, indwelling Spirit, and the guarantee one Day we will be like you. Hallelujah, and thank you.

In view of this one verse, Jesus, you know the relationships, stories, and contexts where we feel like the biggest love-failures. You also know our confusion, fear, traumas, and reluctance to risk loving like this. So we fix our eyes on you, and not this verse. In ways beyond all we can ask or imagine, love through us to your glory, Jesus. So Very Amen.

“Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness.” James 3:18

“As far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” Rom.12:18

Lord Jesus, irrespective of our horticultural skills, there’s one kind of gardening for which there’s no possibility of crop failure. When we sow in peace and seek to live as agents of your reconciling love, you guarantee a harvest of righteousness.

When we choose to be a peacemaker, relationship restoration isn’t guaranteed. But what is 100% guaranteed is you being honored, the Gospel being demonstrated, and us getting a freer. Help us, Lord, for some of us already feel a bit uneasy and anxious as this prayer unfolds.

Jesus, keep replenishing our hearts with your mercy and grace. For peacemaking often requires more emotional energy than we have, and demands more heart openness than we want to offer. Give us courage when obedience to you means we need to move towards situations and people we’d rather avoid—like forever.

You have called us to love others as you love us, Jesus; and, as far as it depends on us, to live at peace with everyone. Sometimes that’s easy, and sometimes mildly challenging—just requiring swallowing a little pride and taking the first step.

But sometimes it’s complicated by personalities + time + remembering things differently. And, when we’re honest, Jesus, sometimes it means we have to deal with that part of us that would rather call down fire than grace (Luke 9:54-55). Grant us wisdom from above and humility greater than our hurt. You aren’t asking us to pretend, but you are asking us to trust you. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, we live with a relentless, redemptive ache. It hurts, but it’s good pain. The “firstfruits of the Spirit” won’t leave us alone. We’re tired of the brokenness around us… and in us. And the unavoidable, alluring taste, vision, aroma, and sounds of our coming life in the new heaven and new earth making waiting difficult. Our Spirit-groans are getting more intense, and demand resolution.

We’re like children whining and angling for 3 o’clock snacks before a 6 pm supper. Though it would be easy to settle for less, we want what you want, Jesus, and when you will give it. On this Sunday, September 17, 2023, we honor you as the Prince of Peace, the King of kings, the Lamb of God and the Lamp of the City (Rev.21:23)—where we long to be right now.

Until the Day of all things new and beautiful, fill and free our hearts with your peace, Jesus. Replace our demandingness with gratefulness. Don’t decrease our good groaning, but increase our trust-filled waiting for the Day of our “overjoy.” So Very Amen. we pray, in your tender and triumphant name.

Jesus, in light of our Father’s great love, your finished work, and the Spirit’s ongoing witness to our “sonship” (Rom. 8:16), how dare we listen to the voice of the accuser, slanderer, liar? And maybe worse, how dare we claim to enjoy your acceptance and delight, yet dispense judgment and contempt—becoming the voice box for the devil himself?  This contradicts the Gospel we relish, and the life to which you have called us.

Through our union with you, we live in God’s permanent favor and constant kindness. And all day and night long, you never stop interceding, advocating, and shepherding us. You know all the good, bad, and ugly about us; but you also know we are fully forgiven and robed in your righteousness—destined to be with you and like you (Hallelujah!). Therefore…

Therefore… it makes all the Gospel-sense in the world that we can trust you for the mercy, grace, and wisdom we need when mere mortals frustrate us, fail us—even greatly harm us. Nobody “gets a pass.” You’re not calling us to denial. We aren’t to empower fools. But Jesus, we know what you know… we dare not, we must not show contempt for the riches of your kindness by giving the opposite to others. Free us, Forgive us. Yes, it’s complicated at times, but help us love as you love us, period. So Very Amen.

Gracious Jesus, all weekend long, something will rule in our hearts. Through our naïve passivity or a relentless search for relief; by no fault of our own, or because we can be bad stewards of good longings… we will make choices that greatly impact us, and people we love.

You won the war for our heart’s eternity, but it’s functional lord each day is up for grabs. If we won’t surrender to your peace as our heart-boss, maybe it’s good for us to consider our options. We could always choose resentment, but then again, you tell us “resentment kills a fool” (Job 5:2). Maybe envy? Not a good choice either, unless we want “bone rot” (Prov.14:20).

Perhaps dreaming, craving, and angling for more money? Not unless being “plunged into ruin and destruction” looks attractive to us (1 Tim.6:9). Maybe there’s someone out there that really “gets me”—somebody that can fill us up? Jesus, thanks for being graphic about this one. Replacing you with people, romance, or a sexualized relationship is like “an ox going to the slaughter, like a deer stepping into a noose (Prov.7:22). Ouch. Big ouch. And thank you.

Jesus, in fresh Gospel-sanity, with our palms facing upward and our hearts as joyfully open to you as possible … we surrender to you. You are our loving King, passionate Bridegroom, and Prince of Peace. As you rejoice over us with singing, now rule inside us with your peace. So VERY Amen.

   Lord Jesus, we are grateful shepherds aren’t passive, co-dependent on the approval of sheep, or conflict avoidant. This is especially true of you, the archetypal Good Shepherd. Having laid down your life for us as the Lamb of God, you now lead and love us as our reigning King and returning Bridegroom, the friend of sinners and healer of our hearts.

   We’re especially grateful today for two of the things you do best and do regularly. Jesus, thank you for actually making us lie down in green pastures. We’d probably never seek deep rest and soul refreshment unless you forced the issue.

   Instead of green pastures, we run into arenas of validation—looking to get more, do more, be more. Or we drift into the dessert of unforgiveness and resentment—looking to blame someone(s) for our misery, and keep them hostage in the prison of our gracelessness.  

   We’re also grateful that you lead us beside quiet waters. This doesn’t mean we should expect a tranquil journey all the way Home, for you will take us through “the valley of the shadow of death.” But it does mean that in every situation, every relationship, every chapter in our stories… you will give us what you promise—your peace.

   Before the storm is over, before the trauma is healed, before the mess is less messy, before the Day of all things new… you give us your peace because you give us yourself. Jesus, thank you for never leaving us or forsaking us. So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, hallelujah for the Day when all shame and shaming will be eradicated. Never again will we remember the shame of our childhood, youth, or adult years. Never again will we feel the disintegrating, paralyzing power of shame, or the compulsion to hide and cover up. And never again will we use shame to strike back, get even, or harm anyone.

There’s only one reason for this profound hope: Because Jesus bore the full weight of our guilt, and has broken the muting, face-covering, dignity-robbing power of our shame. “The Scripture says, “’Everyone who believes in him (Jesus) will never be put to shame’” (Rom.10:11). Father, help us come more fully alive to this good news: You don’t despise our weaknesses, “secrets,” and insecurities. You don’t turn away from us when we feel fractured, fragile, or like failures. Thank you, Abba.

But the Gospel gives us much more than just the breaking and lifting of shame. It gives us the fullness of your acceptance and affection. Hallelujah… you see us, know us, welcome us, and fully delight in us… in this very moment. “Hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Rom. 5:5). You have poured—not dribbled, your love on us (1Jn.3:1-3), and into our hearts. Thank you, and keep pouring. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, the incidental pictures in the Bible are as precious as the extraordinary promises. I’m grateful for this story of a discouraged, tired, conflicted Paul. Not that my circumstances mirror his; I’m just feeling a bit on the “blah-ish” side of things today. I’m feeling my humanity.

Nothing major is sucking my joy. There aren’t any foreseeable crises looming, or fresh disappointments creating a grace-leak in my heart. I’m just more listless than fired-up on this Tuesday morning, and I’m okay with that. Paul was restless, not prayerless. You put your head on a pillow and slept in a boat because you were tired and sleepy (Mark 4:38-40)—not to model anything extraordinary for us. Thank you.

And thank you for the encouragement you send us in various forms. Though you’re quite capable of sending ravens and rainbows, manna and miracles, more often than not you send us to each other. I love how Paul referred to his friend Titus: “His presence was a joy”—”his presence was a joy” … not pressure to get over anything, not a “teaching moment,” not a rebuke to his tiredness.

Even as we treasure friends like Titus, make us that kind of friend to others—which is simply a prayer to become more like you Jesus. When you are close, “bruised reeds and smoldering wicks” feel no pressure to stand tall or glow like a lighthouse (Matt.12:15-21). No one offers a kinder presence than you, Jesus. Thank you So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, this one verse carries an affirmation and a command that, quite literally, change everything. That you love us as much as our heavenly Father loves you is simultaneously breathtaking and lifegiving. Abiding in your love is the only way we will overcome our suspicion that you’re exaggerating.

Help us, Lord. Free us. We crave what you want for us—a greater grasp of the “length and width, height and depth” of your love (Eph. 3:18). Take everything written about your love in the Scriptures and pour it afresh into our hearts (Romans 5:5).

We want your love to be our permanent abode and our vacation home—the sanctuary where we worship, the place we run when we’re afraid, the dancefloor where we express our joy. Even more so, Jesus, we want your love to be the air we breathe, our bread and banquet, the sheets between we sleep, the musical score by which we live, the size of our dreams and the reason we hope.

As we grow in your love, our understanding of the limits of human love will mature, and our expectations of people will be adjusted to a healthy size. No one can be to us and for us who you are, Jesus. The gifts of human love, connection, and intimacy are precious gifts from you to us. But they are pointers to you, not the point of life. Only your love is better than life, Jesus. Only you are enough. Hallelujah, and So Very Amen.

“The Father loves his Son and has put everything into his (Jesus’) hands” (Jn.3:35). “No one can snatch them (you and me) from my (Jesus’) hand.” (Jn. 10:28). “He (Jesus) laid his right hand on me, saying, ‘Fear not, I am the first and the last’” (Rev.1:17)

Lord Jesus, I am so thankful for your hands this morning—for your merciful and mighty grip on all things. I am grateful to be able to sing with peace and release… “Those He saves are His delight, He will hold me fast. He will hold me fast. He will hold me fast. For my Savior loves me so, He will hold me fast.” Hallelujah, and thank you.

Jesus, we don’t have control over the number and nature of our days before you call us Home, but you do. Fill the ones you’ve marked for us with well-timed grace, greater love for you, and confidence in your sovereign rule.

We don’t have power over the hearts and choices of our family and friends, but you do. Constantly remind us you’re the author and editor of both their stories and ours—not merely the One who cleans up messes behind us. Free us to love as you love us.

We haven’t been entrusted with determining world history, tomorrow’s disappointments, or next week’s surprises. And though we sometimes wish we could be the Potter, not the clay, we are so glad our Father has put everything into your hands. Jesus, you are holding us fast. Yours is the grip of grace and kindness. Thank you, and So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, many friends are struggling with health challenges, body aches, and physical maladies—including my best friend, Darlene my wife. First of all, thank you for the gift of lament. The Gospel doesn’t make us less human, but more so. Tears are the evidence of faith, not its absence.

Quite honestly, Jesus, an eternity of perfect health is looking better than ever. Hallelujah… our healing will be complete, and we’ll never experience any form of sickness and pain. No more cancer, poison ivy, or blurry vision; no joint aches, heart aches, or even hang nails; no more or memory loss, stenosis, or need to say, “It’s just a cold.”

Jesus, thank you for not only securing the absence of evil and the perfection of our spirits, but also the resurrection of our bodies. Even as you were raised from the dead; so shall we be. We groan now, but we’ll be whole and dance forever. These “light and momentary troubles” (2 Cor.4:17-18) are incredibly inconvenient, bothersome, but have an eternal expiration date.

Until that Day, we’ll take care of ourselves, Jesus, and trust you for healing, health, and sufficient grace (2 Cor.12:8-10). By the power of your Spirit, help us steward our suffering, grow in our compassion for others, and experience daily renewal in the Gospel. It won’t be long before everything is “put right” and forever new. Thank you, and So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, reading these Scriptures, I want to respond, “Busted”—for I stand convicted. But I choose to respond, “Beloved”—because that’s the only way we ever really deal with our sin. Because of your great love for us, repentance is a joy and hope for change is real.

This side of glorification, I don’t really expect to be annoyance-free or perfect at overlooking offenses. But I do believe I can get “bugged” by less and take more of life in stride. Jesus, give me and my friends grace and wisdom to know what to take seriously and what not to lose any sleep, joy, peace over.

Give us bigger hearts and thicker skin. Life between your resurrection and return will continue to be marked by imperfect people, broken everything, and inward groaning for the Day of all things new. Holding onto slights, rehearsing hurtful comments, mulling over ways we can get even—nothing good can really come from those things.

In a culture where road rage has spread to entitlement rage, having-to-wait rage, identity rage, politics rage, you’re-in-my-parking-spot rage, you-took-the-last-cookie rage… Jesus, we want to be different, because you call us to be different. Kindness, not rightness, is to mark us—the fruit of the Spirit, not the confirmation of our immaturity.

In fact, Jesus, help us be more aware of when we’re the ones being unnecessarily annoying. Even more so, help us stay aware of your great love for us, your promise of sufficient grace for every situation, and the profound hope we have through the Gospel. Thank you, and So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, today we bless you for the servants of your Word and the Gospel you’ve placed in our lives over the years—including this season. Nothing is more glorious, necessary, and life-giving than the truth, goodness, and beauty of Jesus… revealed by the Spirit to us in the Bible… gifted to us through your appointed means. We’re pausing today to say thank you, Abba.

Thank you for the cloud of witnesses in the Scriptures and those you’ve written into our stories—grace-fountains in our wilderness, rescuers as we’ve wandered, those who continue to call us to Gospel-sanity, freedom, and beauty—from heaven and earth.

Parents and Sunday School teachers, Young Life leaders and campus ministry directors, pastors and teachers… Neighbors and strangers, angelic visitations and tenacious roommates, disciplers and Gospel-mentors… Authors we’ll only meet in heaven, and songwriters who connect our heads and hearts…

Grandmothers who prayed and wept for us, and grandchildren who reveal your grace and kindness to us… Old worn-out cassette tapes, sun-faded book covers, and now, internet-streamed goodness… Missionaries who showed up and friends who will not give up… Thank you heavenly Father. Thank you Lord Jesus. Thank you Holy Spirit.

From eternity to Genesis to Revelation—from our first Day in the new heaven and new earth, for the next 10 millenniums, and forever… gracious Triune God, you alone are worthy of our worship—of everything we have and are. Thank you for seeking and saving us. Thank you for those you have sent and continue to use. So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, whether we make it a memory verse, wrist tattoo, email-ending Scripture, a laminated card to keep close and give out, or write it out by hand and tape it to our most visited mirrors, Ephesians 4:32 summarizes your great love for us, and how we are to live and love all the way Home.

Hallelujah, your tenderheartedness and kindness towards us are constant, immeasurable, not based on anything in us. And you haven’t “just” forgiven us, you have enveloped us in the righteousness of Jesus.

Abba, we want to love others as you love us in Jesus, period—no qualifiers, fine print, “Yes, but’s,” or exception clauses. Make the Gospel, Jesus’ empty cross, and the occupied throne of grace the most defining and delighting realities in our lives.

We greatly look forward to the Day when it will be impossible for us to sin, impossible for us to not love—with our thinking, speaking and choosing (1 John 3:1-1). Until that Day, grant us convictable hearts and quicker repentances. You call us to be tender-hearted—not touchy-hearted.

When we step into the rawness of people’s difficult day, old wounds, current triggers, or sleepless nights… give us your patience, forbearance, and understanding. Give us long fuses and short memories when it comes to the imperfections and brokenness of others. Oh Abba… we ask it again, make the Gospel, Jesus’ empty cross, and the occupied throne of grace the most defining and delighting realities in our lives. Thank you, and So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, our ache for peace is undeniable and unrelenting. Even with eternal peace through the Gospel, we remain discontented, restless, demanding. Good longings and better judgment get sabotaged by smells, sights, comparison.

The world of “if only” haunts us. If only we were 25 years younger, could live in Singapore, had different genes or jeans, had been born in a different era. If only we could win the lottery, had never been abused, were married (or single) again. If only our kids would say “Yes” to all our suggestions. The if-only-list has no end. Jesus, then we hear you utter the only “If only” that matters.

“If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace.” Indeed, Jesus, only you—yesterday, today, and forever—are the Prince of Peace, King of calm, and Lord of contentment.

   Only in union and fellowship with you can we find the deep peace we crave—the shalom for which we have been made and saved. We will remain peaceless and restless—whether we live in a penthouse or outhouse, have good health or terminal brokenness; whether we are adored, ignored, or loathed… until our hearts can sing to you… or sing again…  “Whom do I have in heaven but you, Jesus? And being with you I desire nothing on earth” (Psalm 73:25-26).

Until the Day of peace-full-ness, continue to fill and free our hearts with your peace. All we really need is you, plus what you choose to give us, Jesus. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, the truths contained in this one 17-word sentence stretch our minds, enthrall our hearts, and buckle our knees. First of all, thank you for making us your “little flock” by your sacrificial work as the Lamb of God. You have taken away our sin, and taken us into the heart of our Father. Nothing has more power to expel our fears than being certain of our Father’s love for us (1Jn.4:18).

Now as our Good Shepherd, you care for us, protect us, and will lead us into the fullness of God’s Kingdom—an inheritance we now share with you (Heb.1:2; Rom.8:17). We trust you when you speak of our Father’s happiness in giving us the Kingdom; but we also confess our unbelief.

By your Holy Spirit, enable our feeble hearts to grasp the wonder of such grace-riches and great hope. It seems too great, too futuristic, too beyond our ability to comprehend. Like Esau, we often prefer tangible, instant gratification, rather than waiting for you to be the “Yes!” to every promise God has made. (Gen.25:27-34).

Jesus, until you return, free us to live as outward-loving communities of grace, not ingrown cloisters of anxiety. Worshipping you, sharing the Gospel, creating beauty, loving our neighbors, advocating for justice, extending your mercy… these are sure markers of the present and coming Kingdom. Our labors in you will never be in vain because your labors for us were perfect and complete. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, there’s more joy and gladness crammed into these three verses than I can wrap my head and heart around. I’m grateful these promises aren’t metaphorical or aspirational, but actual. May your Spirit increase our understanding, ignite our hope, and deepen our worship.

By your finished work, Jesus, the entire Trinity already greatly delights in us—the way Isaiah describes in this passage and fellow prophet Zephaniah described (Zeph. 3:17). The Gospel is this true, good, and beautiful. You are our “righteousness, holiness, and redemption” (1 Cor.1:30). Nothing we do, or don’t do, is connected to a scale, scorecard, or acceptance-meter in the heart of God.

At your 2nd coming, everything you promise in this vision will fully come to pass. Just as our aging bodies will be resurrected and glorified, so our current world is destined to become “new heavens and new earth.” The first Jerusalem is pregnant with the New Jerusalem. Nothing will be broken, all things will be perfect and beautiful.

And we, your impossible to count, every-nation bride, won’t just be happy, we will “be a gladness.” We will finally love you as much as you deserve to be delighted in and adored. As I try to drink all of this in, I feel like the angels who were “on tiptoe with joy” anticipating your 1^st coming (1 Pet.1:12). To risk hoping, waiting, and serving you, Jesus, is not a risk; it’s an honor and joy. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, Labor Day weekend in the USA—what’s not to like? Gratitude for the gifts of work and vocation, the official beginning of the college football year, a “legal” holiday on Monday. However, we can’t think of “work and vocation” without referencing your grace-work on our behalf.

Everything changed with your declaration from the cross, “It is finished!” It’s why you came into the world—to give your life as “a ransom for the many.” How “many” is “many”? Your bride is as countless as cherished.

Heaven’s math describes her quantity in terms of stars, sand, and dust (Gen.22:17, Gen.13:16); and her identity representing “every nation, tribe, people and language” (Rev.7;9). Your love is that great, Jesus. Your grace is that powerful. The Gospel is that glorious.

When you died, death died, and performance-based-spirituality took an eternal beatdown. Works righteousness, legalism, and heaven-by-merit were exposed as graceless frauds. The “work of faith, labor of love, and enduring hope” now mark our lives, and give you glory. We obey you, Jesus, because we love you—not to get anything from you.

Should we get any rewards when you return, we won’t need a neck brace to wear our stacked up “crowns,” just a nanosecond to throw ‘em at your feet (Rev.4:10-11). What a Savior you are, Jesus. What a stunning salvation you have earned for us. We are grateful. So Very Amen.

Heavenly Father, we take this promise very seriously today—not as a cliché, “rabbit’s foot,” or sentimental hymn. No matter our context, conundrum, or cry, you give us grace shaped perfectly for the need (Heb.4:16).

Just when we’re about to throw in the hope-towel because the darkness feels too dark, you give us “sane-ing” grace. You bring us back to Gospel-sanity, the perspective of eternity, and a fresh sighting of Jesus—out of his tomb and comfortably on his throne.

Just when we’re about to enter our float in the pity-party parade… because the pain is too much, the world is too crazy, and heaven is too far away… you give us sufficient grace. Not sufficient as in barely enough, but as in surely enough. This is still your world, and we are your beloved children.

Just when we’re about to appoint ourselves as judge and jury for people who disappoint, fail, or annoy us, you pour sanctifying grace into our hearts. You knock us off our high horse of self-righteousness. You show us, yet again, nobody needs Jesus and his grace more than us.

Just when we’re ready to give up on friends and family members ever knowing and loving you, you give us sustaining grace. You are at work in ways we don’t see. What a God you are: “I revealed myself to those who did not ask for me; I was found by those who did not seek me” (Isa.65:1). Our calling is to love, only you can save.

Just when we’re close to isolating in shame, running away in fear, or medicating our pain foolishly, you give us more saving grace. Your grace doesn’t just save us from old sin and regrets, but also from today and tomorrow’s failures. Hallelujah and thank you, Abba. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, meditating on several portions 2^nd Thessalonians has been akin to savoring the finest dark chocolate ever cooked and crafted. They catalogue much of what you freely give us in the Gospel—beginning with this one: 2Thess.3:5 – “May the Lord direct your hearts into God’s love and Christ’s perseverance.”

If we pay attention to the GPS of the Gospel, it will always direct our hearts into more of your love and your perseverance—not our perspiration. Because you are our righteousness, we can’t increase or diminish your love for us; but we can surely experience more of it more often (Eph.3:18-19). By your Spirit, please make that our feast. We will persevere and overcome all the way Home because of our union with you, Jesus—the Overcomer. Your grace, not our grit, will deliver us safely to heaven.

    Then there’s 2Thess.2:16-17 – “May our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God our Father, who loved us and gave us eternal comfort and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts and establish them in every good work and word.” Jesus, thank you for giving us eternal, not fleeting comfort; and good, not flimsy hope—“good” like you are good Jesus, meaning perfect hope.

Lastly, there’s 2Thess.3:16 – “May the Lord of peace himself give you his peace at all times and in every situation. The Lord be with you all.” Thank you for being the “Lord of peace” and for giving us your peace (Jn.14:27)—the peace that bypasses our reason and is accessible 24/7. You know our current “situations” for which we most need and crave your peace. Jesus, grant it, bring it, and free us to surrender to your peace. Hallelujah, and So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, this one little verse is the Grand Canyon of grace, the Niagara Falls of mercy, the Swiss Alps of encouragement. Come, nourish our hearts with the wonders of your love and the hope of the Gospel.

What’s the story behind our weariness and weakness, and people all around us? Where do we start? Most people we encounter are struggling with more than we realize, juggling more than is sustainable, and carrying more heartache than the chambers of one heart can contain.

Underneath a calm surface might be a riptide of shame, fear, and self-contempt. Behind much hair-trigger anger is dammed-up sadness—years of unvoiced hurt, disregarded pain, and unwept tears. Those we haven’t seen in a while may not be on vacation, but in self-chosen isolation.

Hallelujah, masks of self-protection and pretended okay-ness begin to fall off in your kind presence, Jesus. The Gospel puts an end to posing and pretending, minimizing our need and medicating foolishly. Help us see and tap into the much-more-ness of your grace.

Jesus, free us to get the help we need, the counsel we lack, and the replenishment you promise. Also, give us your compassion for fellow strugglers. Like us, they may have no clue what’s really going on inside them. Turn our hasty reactions into slow listening and non-judgmental presence.

Settle and center our hearts today with the good news—the fresh news of the Gospel. Jesus, your love for us isn’t just better than life (Psalm 63:3), it’s the only love that can heal, refresh, and satisfy us. So Very Amen

Lord Jesus, Idalia’s wind, rain, and flooding threaten the land and lives of many in Florida—close friends of ours, places ravaged before, the elderly and children. We’d despair if King David’s words weren’t true. Indeed, King Jesus, you sit “enthroned over the flood.” We don’t understand the mystery of your sovereignty, but we do affirm that your providence—not happenstance, circumstance, or accidents—get the first, middle, and last word.

You may not give us answers, but you do give us two things King David celebrates in this Psalm—strength and peace. Grant strength (especially to first-responders) for serving one another in love. Strengthen hearts, backs, and arms for what lies ahead. This is a time for neighbor love, not self-preoccupation.

Grant peace for acting wisely, trusting boldly, and loving deeply. We pray for those most vulnerable and least resourced. It hurts to lose a vacation home—it hurts more to lose the only shelter, bed, and clothing one owns.

Lastly, Jesus, we are grateful for the Gospel—the ultimate provision for any and every storm of life (Matthew 7:24-27). You are the only Rock higher than any flood-water. We have peace with God because you won it for us—by your life, death, and resurrection. Hallelujah!

And now your peace can rule in our hearts (Col.3:15), Jesus, long before the Day of no more storms. May your peace settle us, center us, and free us to love others as you love us. May the Gospel become beautiful and believable to many, as we, your people, love well in the coming days. So Very Amen.

Lord Jesus, “hurricane season”—not a phrase we who live in the southern part of the United States particularly like. But with Idalia heading towards a good chunk of Florida, we pray for those most likely to be impacted, and for those who will be serving communities with compassion and sacrifice. Still the storm. Still our hearts.

In one sense, it’s fair to say we’ve lived in “hurricane season” ever since sin and death entered the world and God’s Story. Some hurricanes, like Idalia, happen in the environment. Others happen in our hearts, health, and homes. Relational storms can feel like everything from a bad thunderstorm to a category 5 hurricane. We can rebuild homes easier than relationships. Have mercy on us, Jesus. Bring the power of the Gospel to bear in all of our relationships.

Thank you for being present in every storm we experience in life—even when we interpret your “sleep” as indifference. Because of your life, death, and resurrection, we don’t have to ask, “Teacher, don’t you care?” No one cares about us more than you do, Jesus. You aren’t “merely” our teacher; you are our perfect Righteousness, reigning King, and returning Bridegroom.

You always give us what we need, even when it doesn’t line up with our specific ask or timetable. We will never experience a Christ-absent, insufficient-grace, or Father-less day. Hallelujah, and So Very Amen.