Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name! Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s. Bless the Lord, O you His angels, you mighty ones who do His word, obeying the voice of His word! Bless the Lord, all His hosts, His ministers, who do His will! Bless the Lord, all His works, in all places of His dominion. Bless the Lord, O my soul! Psalm 103:1-5, 20-22
My words…
Praise
How blessed I am! Blessing upon blessing! More than I could number. These blessings do not flow because of my deeds or because of some uncanny coincidence. They flow from You because it’s what You do. You can’t hold it in. Blessings gush forth like water breaking through a dam. But what about You? How may I bless You? It’s a staggering thought. You dwell in the heavens surrounded by hosts of angels and armies. You hold the planets in the palms of Your hands and wear a crown of stars on Your head. You know all. You own all.
I am just a child, limited, bounded. But my spirit is driven to bless You. So I lay my blessings at the foot of Your throne. They may be vapid, but they are genuine. When I marvel at an eclipse, I bless You. When I thank You for buttered corn, I bless You. My prayers are meant to bless You as are my meditations. I bless You when I share Your words with others and when I accept those shared with me. I bless You when I see a bird on the fencepost and remember that You know the number of its feathers. When I ponder on what heaven is like, I bless You. And when I thank You for Your blessings, I bless You. Bless the Lord, O my soul!
Prayer for me
Lord, help me bless You more deeply and more often. Reveal to me new ways to bless You. They are endless just as Your blessings are to me.
Forgive me
Forgive me when I revel in my blessings and neglect to give You praise. You are the source of the blessing. I am only the vessel loved enough to carry it.
Prayer for others
Lord, I pray for those who don’t feel blessed. They may be neglected, abused, terminally ill. Their loved ones may be suffering, and they feel helpless. “Where is the Lord?” they cry. “Where are my blessings?” Show them, Lord! Reveal to them Your hand in their lives, Your promise to love them through pain and sorrow, and Your plan to welcome them into a new home with a new body someday. Receiving Your blessings through suffering is the ultimate spiritual experience. But that is another topic for another prayer.
Thank You
Thank You, Lord, for blessing me. My eyes fill with tears as I write this because I am overwhelmed by Your love and care for me. I can’t express my true gratitude. Maybe there is a heavenly language with words that can adequately capture my thoughts, but I don’t know that language. So Holy Spirit, translate it, please.
More Praise
As a child, I learned that old hymn, Count your blessings, name them one by one. I have never done that. It may take all day. It may take all week. The list would never by exhaustive because there are blessings of which I am unaware. I wouldn’t be surprised if I could only name a small fraction. You, on the other hand, could count how many times I have blessed You. Whatever the number, it is not nearly large enough. But I am happy to add to it during the days I have left to live.
Therefore, since we also have such a large cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily ensnares us. Let us run with endurance the race that lies before us, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the source and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that lay before Him endured a cross and despised the shame and has sat down at the right hand of God’s throne. Hebrews 12:1-2
My words…
Praise
All praise to the One who stands at the finish line, the bright stanchion of faith whose countenance is a cloud by day and fire by night. As long as I keep my eyes on You, I never fear of losing my way, wandering off track, tripping over snares, and skinning my knees. And even though I see You as the prize when my race is done, You are so much more. You run beside me, training, spurring, protecting. I turn my head to find You there, confident in the fact that I will not lose step. And when I slow to a walk, which I am wont to do, You do not race ahead and leave me alone and ashamed. You lift my head and remind me of the sweet rest awaiting me at the end. And I am off and running again!
Prayer for me
No one knows more than You how easily I am distracted. I could blame it on the lightning speed society of which I am a part – so much to see and hear around me. But I know that even if I sat in a field with nary a tree or person around, I would find something on which to attach my thoughts, and off they would flit, riding on the breeze like a dead leaf in autumn. It’s as if I can’t keep control of where my mind wanders. How absurd! It’s my mind. But sometimes I think it isn’t my mind. It’s been hijacked and taken for a joy ride through daydreams, and wishful thinking, and rhetorical questions. A black fog appears. Minutes, hours, and days of running blind until I just stop and call out to the One standing at the finish line. You appear through the fog, and my sights are re-set. The distractions will never evaporate. Help me to recognize their uselessness and worthlessness.
Forgive me
The writer of Hebrews calls these distractions “the sin that ensnares us.” I take my eyes off You, and sin is there, grabbing my attention. It’s so very pretty…on the outside. Forgive me when I decide to allow sin to avert my attention. It’s my decision, and it’s always a bad one.
Prayer for others
Lord, I am not the only distracted disciple. We are a large team of runners, tripping over each other, sometimes shoving each other. How can we be a light to others if we keep being drawn off course into the fog? We trip over the snares of doctrine, ideology, traditions and drag others down with us. But You keep shining, Lord! And we get back up, so grateful that You never give up on us!
Thank You
I can’t run this race alone. Thank You for lacing up and running with me.
More praise
You are the perfecter of my faith. You take my bumbling, ankle-twisting, air-gasping race and present it to the Father as one run by a gazelle. And it cost You – in blood. But I have resolved to not let one drop go to waste. I’ll keep running until the day when our hands touch at the finish line.
Because of God’s merciful compassion, the Dawn from on high will visit us to shine on those who live in darkness and the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. Luke 1:78-79
My words…
You know how much I want to be like you, Lord. You are the perfect pattern of how I should live while I am breathing. But I’m not sure if I would want to pattern my life after Yours if You had not visited my world populated with breakable skeletal structures, vulnerable skin cells, paralyzing fears, overwhelming ignorance, devastating power struggles, and so on. Your compassion must have filled every crevice of heaven for You to choose to grow in a maiden’s womb, be born in a dirty stable, and endure the company of white-washed tombs, broods of vipers, and those of little faith. And while many throughout history reject Your divinity and mock your teachings, I choose to repeat the inspired words of Zechariah and declare You to be the Dawn from on high. Life can be likened to a bad night’s sleep. I toss. I turn. I cramp. I reach for the bottle of pills and toss some more. But when the first rays of sunlight force away the night, there You are – the first light, the day-spring who lights my path so I may joyfully tread the limiting, vulnerable, paralyzing, overwhelming, devastating paths of the world with You.
Entering the house, the wise men saw the child with Mary His mother, and falling to their knees, they worshiped Him. Then they opened their treasures and presented Him with gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And being warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their own country by another route. Matthew 2:11-12
Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king, “Do you know what I know?”
My words…
I often wonder what compelled the wise men to travel for months to visit a child king of a foreign country in which they shared no social, political, or religious ties. They knew the prophesies: a King of the Jews would be born in Judea, and He would lead His people to freedom, but they really had no stake in that event. So I asked You, Lord: Why? And You answered me: “It’s what wise people do.” I have pondered Your answer for days, and it has lightened my heart. Wise people embrace prophesies and watch for their fulfillment. They act on signs sent by You. They sacrifice their time and their wealth when they find the One who is worthy to receive it. And they know to whom they should offer their purest worship.
The world sees a child in his mother’s arms living in a simple home in Bethlehem. Just a child. The wise see a King, the Hope of the world who lived and died and rose and now sits at a very special place, waiting to return. Because that’s what wise people do.
After Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of King Herod, wise men from the east arrived unexpectedly in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we saw His star in the east and have come to worship Him.” Then Herod secretly summoned the wise men and asked them the exact time the star appeared. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search carefully for the child. When you find Him, report back to me so that I too can go and worship Him.” After hearing the king, they went on their way. And there it was – the star they had seen in the east! It led them until it came and stopped above the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed beyond measure. Matthew 2:1-2, 7-10
Said the night wind to the little lamb, “Do you see what I see?”
My words…
All praise to God the Father who used a star as a birth announcement! How fitting a medium to proclaim the arrival of the Light of the World. The Magi called it His star – a particular star given a history-changing assignment: outshine every other star in the sky, and hover over the place where the Son of God lives. Wise men from the east were wise enough to know the significance of such a beacon. Their quest: Find the newly-born King.
Does that star still live or did it shine itself out of existence that night? Too holy to be used again?
My heart swells every time I read of an event where a person encounters You. I love hearing or seeing their reactions. The weary travelers could not contain their joy when they found the place where the King resided. It was no palace. No courtiers flitted about – no servants to be seen. The humble King lived humbly, yet the wise visitors didn’t seem to mind. Their long journey had come to an end. They could finally rest their bodies, their minds, their spirits. For that is what happens when I step into Your presence. I am at peace. I am at rest. I am exactly where I belong.
In the same region, shepherds were staying out in the fields and keeping watch at night over their flock. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Don’t be afraid, for look, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people: Today a Savior, who is Messiah the Lord, was born for you in the city of David. This will be the sign for you: You will find a baby wrapped snugly in cloth and lying in a feeding trough.” Suddenly there was a multitude of the heavenly host with the angel, praising God and saying: Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace on earth to people He favors!” Luke 2:8-14
Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy, “Do you hear what I hear?”
My words…
On the night that Your Son arrived as a baby in Bethlehem, heaven burst open. An angel with a multitude of the heavenly host erupted in praise, piercing the silent night. The shepherds and their sheep turned heavenward in awe. I’m not sure if the angelic host sang, shouted, or chanted – it doesn’t matter. Their praise could not be contained. Oh, to be a shepherd in the fields that night! The praise of angels heralding the birth of God With Us must have caressed their ears like no other sound on earth. Did they eventually forget the majestic tones? Perhaps they re-lived it in their dreams? I don’t believe that one could hear the sound of angelic praise and not be forever changed. I long to hear that sound – the sound heard by lambs in the field that night. The lambs knew praise when they heard it. Did they praise, too?
My praise cannot compare to that of the angelic host. Even my best words of adoration and gratitude are gritty, cold, and lame in comparison. Yet You hear them and You accept them, gladly. So I lift my heart to You. It is swollen with great joy as I recall the blessed event of the birth of Jesus. I praise You as the Father who sent Your Son away from Your side, away from His heavenly home, and I praise the Son who loved me so much that He went.
Jesus said to them: “Suppose one of you has a friend and goes to him at midnight and says to him, “Friend, lend me three loaves of bread because a friend of mine on a journey has come to me, and I don’t have anything to offer him. Then he will answer from inside and say, ‘Don’t bother me! The door is already locked, and my children and I have gone to bed. I can’t get up to give you anything.’ I tell you, even though he won’t get up and give him anything because he is his friend, yet because of his friend’s persistence, he will get up and give him as much as he needs. So I say to you, keep asking, and it will be given to you. Keep searching, and you will find. Keep knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who searches finds, and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead of a fish? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who Ask Him?” Luke 11:5-13
My words…
Prayer for me
When my children were young, they often asked me for the same thing over and over again. I found it to be very wearisome. I reminded them that it wasn’t necessary to keep asking – I heard it the first time. But they reasoned I would forget. (I often forgot things – You well know.) When it came to responding to the needs and wants of my children, their specific request held very little weight. I had already decided what they would get, and my decision was based on several factors of which they were unaware. They were too young to understand. As I contemplate our relationship (I the child, You the Father), I praise You for encouraging me to be persistent in bringing my requests before You. I needn’t be concerned that You will find my persistence wearisome. I may keep asking You for the same thing day after day, year after year, and You will hold those requests in Your heart until such a time as You see fit to grant them. How often have I asked for a deeper faith, searched for spiritual understanding, knocked for true wisdom? And You have given to me from Your storehouses. I had an inkling of how to give to my children, but You are the Supreme Giver. You know how to give the very best gift because You are the very best gift. Your Spirit, freely living in me, is the answer to my prayers because through You, I grow in faith, knowledge, and wisdom. Since we’re on the subject of persistence, I would like to take this opportunity, yet again, to ask for another measure of You in me. And I plan to keep on asking, and asking, and asking.
Happy are the people whose strength is in You, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. Psalm 84:5
My words…
About this time of year, I bring Mr. and Mrs. Pilgrim out of the attic and set them on my mantle. They’re small wooden figures carved to look like the Separatists who fled persecution by the Church of England in the 1600s. I doubt, though, that they resemble the exhausted, seasick, anxious lot who hobbled off the Mayflower, looking for a place to build a new life. You know each of them by name. You heard their urgent prayers for deliverance. Their hearts burned to worship You in a way they believed was true. Since they couldn’t find it at home, they tucked their Geneva Bibles under their arms and journeyed to the New World. You called Your chosen Israelites to be pilgrims three times a year – journey to the tabernacle or temple to worship You in that special place because the person who sets out on a pilgrimage is not the same person who returns. I’m not sure it’s the worship experience at the end that transforms the pilgrims more than the journey itself. What happens along the way, the dangers and the joys, are transformational.
Like the Separatists and the Israelites, I’m a pilgrim. My feet travel the highway to deliverance, to freedom, to heavenly worship. Thank You for blessing my journey thus far. Joy beyond measure awaits me when You greet me in the New World.
Now if any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives to all generously and without criticizing, and it will be given to him. But let him ask in faith without doubting. For the doubter is like the surging sea, driven and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. An indecisive man is unstable in all his ways. James 1:5-8
My words…
Praise
You are the only source of true wisdom, the wisdom that keeps me walking down the center of the path of righteousness. It is a perfect wisdom which encompasses every aspect of life no matter the period of history. It is ageless, unchanging, and precious. It is cool water on a hot day. It is the warm hug during grief. It is restful sleep during tribulation. It is resolution after query. It is order during chaos. Blessed is the one who is confident that true wisdom cannot be found in the stars, in fortune cookies, in newspaper columns, in crystal balls. Blessed am I who stands in the beam of Your enlightening wisdom.
Prayer for me
The surprising thing is not that You give generously to those who ask, it’s the fact that I don’t think to ask nearly enough. I’m like a starving woman who is too preoccupied to sit at the table and eat. The comfort that comes from knowing how to hold up under the weight of suffering or how to counsel my children or how to keep my spiritual balance in a shifting, tilting world should compel me to be in a constant state of wisdom request. There are times when I believe I’m pretty wise already, which is glittering proof of how foolish I truly am.
Forgive me
I should be at the point in my life when doubting in You should not be taking up words in my prayers. But here I am again, asking You to forgive my doubt. There are times when my spiritual armor is fastened on tightly, and my feet are firmly planted on the Rock. And then there are times when I am a wave being tossed and driven by the wind, wondering if You even hear my prayers and meditations. So weak am I. Forgive my spiritual instability.
Thank You
Thank You for sharing Your wisdom with me, an undeserving daughter. You never criticize my request although You have every right to. No. You just answer it. And Your generosity is a manifestation of Your love and goodness. For all of this I am humbly grateful.
More praise
There is no worldly wisdom which can compare. Holy, pure, generous, and loving is the One who offers it. Prudent, humble, and obedient is the one who claims it.
Now a man was sick, Lazarus, from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with fragrant oil and wiped his feet with her hair, and it was her brother, Lazarus, who was sick. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus: “Lord, the one you love is sick.” When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Many of the Jews had come to Mary and Martha to comfort them about their brother. When Mary came to where Jesus was and saw Him, she fell at His feet and told him “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died!” When Jesus saw her crying and the Jews who had come with her crying, He was angry in His spirit and deeply moved. “Where have you put him?” He asked. “Lord,” they told Him, “come and see.” Jesus wept. John 11:1-3, 17, 19, 32-35
My words…
Praise
Jesus, of all of the events of Your time dwelling among humans, I find this to be one of my favorites. Expressed within the words of this sad occasion is an action that refreshes my spirit every time I read it: You cried. Your tear ducts filled up, and the tears leaked down Your cheeks. When You stood among those grieving the loss of a brother and friend, You felt their loss. But I wonder if it was something more since You knew their sadness would turn to joy within a few moments when You would resurrect Lazarus from the tomb. Did You grieve the loss of human innocence and perfect communion with God in Eden? Did you grieve the deception of Satan and his evil impact on humankind since then? Did You cry because You hate death and are so weary of witnessing grief? Whatever the reason, I am glad You wept. You are the God whose tender heart aches when His children suffer.
Prayer for the grieving
So many grieving souls are crying as I write this prayer. Someone they love is dying. They are “cried out.” Their tear ducts are over-worked and tired. They wake in the morning and remember their grief, wishing it was just a bad dream. It is difficult for them to see beyond their suffering. Comfort them, Lord. You have lived through the same pain. Draw them close to You and carry their sorrows.
Prayer for the dying
Lord, only You know the days I have left to live on this beautiful earth. But there are those who know their lives are numbered not in years, but in days and months. You know how they feel. You knew when Your days and hours on earth were drawing to a close. You chose to vanquish death. You longed to be reunited with Your Father. You had been with Him before; You knew what to expect. Soothe the anxious hearts of those who know not what to expect. Calm the spirits of those who dread leaving the ones they love, even as they long for Paradise. My hope is that when they see You, You will be crying – tears of joy.
