For the High and Holy One who lives forever, whose name is holy, says this: “I live in a high and holy place and with the oppressed and lowly of spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and revive the heart of the oppressed. Isaiah 57:15
Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted. Matthew 23:12
So, it is a sin for the person who knows to do what is good and doesn’t do it. James 4:17
My words…
A Prayer of Repentance
I wish I didn’t have to pray about sin. I would prefer to pray about sunbeams, chocolate cake, and butterfly kisses; unfortunately, those delights do not describe the state of my spirit. Not today. When I read Your words, I first ask You to teach me what You want me to learn. This week, You have been clearly leading me toward repentance. I asked. You showed me. I often pray for forgiveness in a broad sense, like fish caught in a net. You undoubtedly forgive me, and the fish swim away. Bye-bye sins. But You want me to honestly consider my thoughts and actions and lay them alongside Your will for me. Do they match up? Not lately.
My sins are not fish in a net. They are individual transgressions against You, none worse than the other, but each intentional. I sin on purpose. (May we pause for a slice of cake? No?) These words are hard to write, hard to admit. At this point along the path, I should be strong enough to keep Your spiritual armor in place at all times. I should. But it slips when I know to do good and don’t. It falls to the ground when I know the wrong and do it anyway.
So where does this leave me? On my knees. Heartbroken. Tearful. Guilty.
Here’s the good part: (With You there’s always a good part.) When I am on my knees, humble and lowly, I am with You in a high and holy place. I can’t see it with my hazel eyes. It’s a special, invisible place where I am revived in spirit and lifted to my feet to stand again.
Refreshed. Renewed. Exalted. Forgiven.
Sadly, I’ll sin again. But You never minded hanging out with sinners. Thank You, God.
In the evening of that first day of the week, the disciples were fathered together with the doors locked because of their fear of the Jews. Then Jesus came, stood among them, and said to them, “Peace to you!” Having said this, He showed them His hands and His side. So the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. But Thomas was not with them when Jesus came. After eight days, His disciples were indoors again, and Thomas was with them. Even though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them. He said, “Peace to you!” John 20:19-20, 24, 26
My words…
Following Your death, Jesus, Your disciples huddled in a locked room, fearing those responsible for killing You. Weighed down by grief, guilt, and confusion, they sought comfort in each other’s company. Questions without answers caromed off the walls.
And then, there You were. As if a locked door could keep You out. (Nice move, by the way!) The disciples did not comprehend that You had dismantled everything they knew about death. They weren’t thinking about death at all. You were in the room! Alive and speaking!
“Peace to you!” A perfect greeting, undoubtedly one they had heard You speak a hundred times on a hundred different occasions. Peace. Before You showed up, peace was woefully absent in the room. You spoke it into existence, just as You did at creation when You said, “Let there be light.”
Peace crowded out grief. Peace squashed guilt. It eclipsed confusion. A good thing since what You had planned for them could not be accomplished under such a cloud. Then, You repeated this scene since Thomas missed it the first time.
Your peace empowered the disciples to unlock the door. When they did, fear waiting to enter was overpowered by Your peace breaking out. They went out proclaiming Your peace so believers would never look at death the same again. I know I don’t.
I pray You step inside locked rooms (hearts) of those who are fearful of what lay outside the door. Fill them with Your peace, the by-product when death’s shackles are snapped by the Son of God.
The Counselor, the Holy Spirit—the Father will send Him in My name—will teach you all things and remind you of everything I have told you. John 14:26
My words…
I wish I could take my thick, compacted brain and stretch it thin so all my memories would fall out in chronological order. I have forgotten more of my life than I remember. Like a puff of smoke, days, weeks, and years are gone.
Here’s the pitiful truth: If it weren’t for photos, I would not remember my high school graduation or what my wedding dress looked like. I cannot recall the names of book characters in manuscripts I myself have written! Birthdays? Forget it (literally).
In Your eternal wisdom, You embedded me with a personal reminder—not the buzzing, dinging, sticky-note kind. Oh, no. You gifted me Your Spirit to remind me of what You want me to remember. Wedding dresses and birthdays don’t make the list.
Holy Spirit, I have asked You to bring to my mind the truth You would have me remember today. Your response:
Satan is real. He attacks. I have armor. (Ephesians 6)
Don’t conform. Transform. (Romans 12)
When I’m walking a dark path, Your words light it up. (Psalm 119)
Jesus, You healed a blind man with holy spit. You can do anything. (John 19)
You are love. (the whole Bible)
Thank You for bringing Your words to the minds of Your disciples years after they were spoken. It makes for very good reading. The Apostle John remembered the words of one of Your prayers decades after You uttered it. This heart-felt, heart-breaking prayer takes up one entire chapter, more than 600 words (John 17). How comforted John must have been as he heard Your voice in his head and wrote each word.
I experience that same comfort when you bless my wispy memory with Your words of hope, peace, and wisdom. I don’t need to hear Your voice in my head. I hear it in my heart because that’s where You live.
“Enter through the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the road is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who go through it. How narrow is the gate and difficult the road that leads to life, and few find it.” Matthew 7:13-14
My words…
Praise
There are so many passages of scripture that fill me with joy. This is not one of them. The joy I experience pondering the road that leads to life is tempered by the fact that few find it. Few find it because few search for it. How tragic. From the very beginning, You knew this would be the case, yet you never altered the eternal plan to send Your Son to die. And, Jesus, You died for the few, willingly.
Prayer for Me
Because the narrow gate is, well, narrow, I cannot expect to enter through it with my backpack filled with good works. It won’t fit. I could say, “Look at all the cool things I’ve done for others! Hey, I write a prayer blog.” I would then be lumped in with the folks you refer to in Matthew 7:22 who were shocked they were denied entrance even though they had some pretty amazing things in their backpacks: They could prophesy, drive out demons, and perform miracles. It isn’t what I’ve done for You. It’s what You have done for me. It isn’t who I am. It’s whose I am. Jesus, You are the gate. I must go through You to get onto the path that leads to Your Father and all He has in store for me (the joy and the suffering). I go through You just as I am: a sinful, contrite, surrendered soul, totally dependent on Your love and grace. I searched for You, and I found You (searching for me). Give me the strength to walk worthy of Your sacrifice, and forgive me when I hoist that backpack of works.
Prayer for others
The ironic thing about this passage is that so many people on earth know who You are. If I were to say to most anyone, “Name the Son of God who was crucified and rose on the third day,” most would answer Jesus. But knowing who You are and surrendering to You as their Lord is the difference between the broad and narrow ways. There are two and only two choices for us to make. One leads to life, the other to destruction. Today, I pray for every soul on the road to destruction. They do not possess the desire to search for You, to search for their Creator and Savior. Some believe the narrow way is traveled by the narrow-minded. Others believe the way to life is no life at all: too many “do nots.” I trust You, Holy Spirit, to do what You do best: Transform.
More Praise
Walking the narrow path with You as my Light is not always easy. I still stumble, but I don’t stumble alone. You are there. And so are the other precious FEW.
I will lift up my hands to Your commands, which I love, and will meditate on Your statutes. Psalm 119:48
My words…
Praise
On any given day, my arthritic, age-spotted hands could be accomplishing a number of things: making a sandwich, pulling a weed, washing my car. None of these acts precludes me from lifting my spiritual hands heavenward to You at any time (spiritual multi-tasking). Scripture depicts this act as a posture of praise, but, for me, I am not only praising, I am reaching—reaching for confirmation, for understanding, for wisdom.
I have found, however, that my posture of reaching happens more during times of stillness and sleeplessness. You and I make efficient use of boring car rides, waiting room layovers, and erratic bouts of insomnia. Why meditate on the latest political debate when I could be exploring the boldness of Your encounters with the Pharisees? (My favorite: Blind guides! You strain out a gnat yet gulp down a camel.) Is scanning amusing social media posts worthy of my time when I could be weighing Your worldwide influence as Light of the World? And reflecting on eternity with You is more fulfilling compared to remembering my best day on earth. In other words, time spent reaching toward You is time best spent.
Prayer for me
Your promise of giving me whatever I ask of You is a comfort beyond measure. So, here is my request today: Grant me the wisdom to apply the fruit of our time together to my own life. It’s one thing to know your statutes. It’s another to layer them atop my thoughts and actions to reveal where Your light doesn’t shine through. Then, forgive me when I do nothing about it.
Prayer for others
Lord, I pray for those who regard Your commands and statutes as ancient musings, unrelated to modern society. As Solomon wisely stated, “There is nothing new under the sun.” Shine forth Your precepts in a world in desperate need of them. Only You know the best way to do it.
Thank You
Your servant, N. T. Wright writes, “God intended for people to search for him! Perhaps even reach out for him and find him!”¹ (Italics mine) I read this just after I decided to write this prayer to You. Thank You for another amazing “coincidence!”
More praise
One of the many blessings I experience when reaching for You is that You are so easy to find. Being omnipresent is a trait for which I neglect to praise You often enough. You’re always there and always will be. When I step away from the confines of my world and reach for You, could it be You were reaching for me first? Hmm. Something to ponder.
The one who says he is in the light but hates his brother is in the darkness until now. The one who loves his brother remains in the light and there is no cause for stumbling in him. But the one who hates his brother is in the darkness, walks in the darkness, and doesn’t know where he is going because the darkness has blinded his eyes. 1 John 2:9-11
Now this is the message we have heard from Him and declare to you: God is light, and there is absolutely no darkness in Him. 1 John 1:5
My words…
As a kid, I remember Valentine’s Day school parties as being times of great consternation. Each year, I chose a box of flimsy, cartoon-character-infused cards with matching flimsy envelopes to give to each of my classmates. My teacher insisted that every student would receive a valentine from every other student which meant I was forced to give a card to Glen, my arch enemy. I gnashed my teeth. I hated Glen. You were there, Lord, when he punched me in the stomach in kindergarten. You watched him strip a thin branch from a tree and slice a welt across my bare leg while we waited at the bus stop. He was mean. He was a bully. He didn’t deserve a valentine. When I sorted through the cards, I always chose the one I liked the least and gave that one to Glen. It was my only recourse.
Looking back, I remember wishing him ill. During the warm summer days when the neighborhood kids played at the park, I hated when he showed up with his strut and scowl. He didn’t deserve to have fun like the rest of us. He spoiled the fun. When the park director kicked him out for hitting a kid with a knock hockey stick, I gloated. A few years later, Glen and his family moved away, but I never forgot him because he was the first person I hated.
My relationship with Glen was a teaching lesson from You, Jesus. I remember vividly what it felt like to hate. It felt dark. It felt abnormal, and I never wanted to feel that way again. Now I am grown, and I see Glen from a different perspective: a kid who was never happy because there was no happiness in his home. I have had many opportunities to walk the path of hate. I praise You as the One who gives me the wisdom to recognize it for what it is: a dark and dangerous path to tread. I am a child of the light. That is where you want me to dwell. That is where I belong.
Thank You, Lord, for sending me messages of love from Your word, from our meditations, from Your creation. Not just on February 14, but every day.
Valentine’s Day should be a time of sharing love, chocolate and flowers with others, not a day of thinking of those we hate. But then again, perhaps it’s the perfect day to do so.
This is what the Lord says, “For My people have committed a double evil: They have abandoned Me, the fountain of living water, and dug cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that cannot hold water.” Jeremiah 2:13
Jesus said, “Everyone who drinks from this water will get thirsty again. But whoever drinks from the water that I will give him will never get thirsty again – ever! In fact, the water I will give him will become a well of water springing up within him for eternal life.” John 4:13-14
My words…
Praise
I smile when I read You referring to Yourself as the fountain of living water. I love fountains. The water leaps upward, then, when the droplets have reached their highest trajectory, they fall gracefully back to the water’s surface only to be replaced by the next wave. It is a continuous and mesmerizing water ballet. You could also be referring to Yourself as a flowing stream: fresh, cool water tumbling down a mountainside or springing up from the ground. Such a perfect metaphor of You as the everlasting, satisfying, restorative source of abundant life in which everyone is invited to drink.
Prayer for me
I am always saddened when I read about Your people abandoning You. The lure of a lifestyle so reprehensible in Your sight drew them away from You, the One who had provided for them and saved them in majestic fashion. Instead of relying on the fountain, they built cisterns to capture rainwater. They plastered the insides, but over time, the cistern cracked and leaked. In reality, they turned their backs on You and devised their own system to connect with another god. The god in the cistern. But just as water in a cistern grows stale, so does a false god. That god doesn’t move, doesn’t work, doesn’t cleanse. Let me pray this metaphor over my life. Through the Prophet Jeremiah, Your Spirit is asking me, “Do I forsake the living fountain for the god in the cistern?” Am I drawn to a habit, a time-waster, a social norm, or any temptation luring me off the path I am walking with You? Move my spirit to recognize it! Once recognized, I pray for pardon and the strength of Your Spirit to lead me back to our path.
Prayer for others
Lord, I pray for those who know You but have abandoned You. They hear the rush of the flowing stream and the spray of the fountain, but they turn away from it and stand at the cistern. I have been praying for such a person, and You have graciously moved in him to turn back toward the living fountain. All praise to You for this amazing transformation! Do it again! (Please.)
More praise
I praise You, Father, Son and Spirit, for offering water, that once swallowed, will quench my spiritual thirst forever. I drink You in, and a well of water springs up within me now and forever. I am a well-watered soul!
Paul, called as an apostle of Christ Jesus by God’s will, and Sosthenes our brother. To God’s church in Corinth, to those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus and called as saints with all those in every place who call on the name of Jesus Christ our Lord-both their lord and ours. Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Corinthians 1:1-3
My words…
Praise
The Apostle Paul wrote such beautiful salutations, didn’t he? This one makes me want to be a Corinthian. But the more I ponder, the more I come to believe I am a Corinthian, or rather, very like one. I have a lot in common with those church-goers, meeting in the sixth century. We are both sanctified in Christ. Hallelujah! We both call on the name of Jesus as our Lord. And we are both called as saints. Saints! Just as the Corinthians were gifted this title through You, so am I. We saints, we’re a numerous group, spanning centuries and continents. A few have become famous outside the realm of devotion to You, like Saint Patrick on whose holy day we wear green and speak with an Irish brogue. A shame. Then there is Saint Teresa of Avila. Her prayers, words wrapped in sweet reverence and peaceful consolation, lead any reader winging toward You in the heavens. I can picture her now, instructing angels in praise. And then there’s the woman who cleans bed pans at the nursing home, praying over each patient. She’s a saint. The man who struggles with addiction, calling on Your name. He’s a saint, too. We’re everywhere!
Prayer for me
Some believe one can be either a sinner or a saint. Untrue. I am a sinner and a saint, just like every other saint who has ever lived. You have given me this title to set me apart as Yours. I fall short of walking daily as a reflection of You, and I hate that. So I pray Your Spirit lead me toward a deeper understanding of sainthood, and forgive me when I don’t appreciate everything associated with that precious title.
Prayer for others
Paul was intent on praying for saints. When he met a group of believers then had to leave them, he always remembered them in prayer to You. He loved spending time with saints, as do I. In memory of Paul, I pray for those in Your church, those I have sat beside in the same pew, those I have laughed and cried with. We have called on Your name together, lifted our hearts in worship to You week after week, year after year. We have patterned our lives after Yours. Although we declare we are sanctified in You, Jesus, some are burdened with a heavy load of guilt or doubt or both. Others are being pierced by Satan’s flaming arrows, and they are too weary to hoist their shield of faith. Still others struggle to see You through their particular heartache. Remind them of their sainthood, Father! Pull them toward You, the place of grace and peace.
Thank You
I have noticed that artists portray saints with bright halos above their heads. I don’t read anything about halos in Scripture, but I have to admit, I like them; the person with the halo is the holy person, the one set apart from everyone else in the painting. You have graced me with the same title as the apostles and Paul and Mary and all the other saints wearing halos. I am not worthy to be in such company, but I thank You that I am.
More praise
Being titled is a big deal. Titles are often bestowed by a king. Mine is bestowed by The King. Of all the titles I’ve had (Miss, Mrs. chief cook and bottle washer), I like this one best. I thank you for it. (And I hope there are halos in heaven.)
When the soldiers crucified Jesus, they took His clothes and divided them into four parts, a part for each soldier. They also took the tunic, which was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. So they said to one another, “Let’s not tear it, but cast lots for it, to see who gets it.” John 19:23-24
Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens-Jesus the Son of God- let us hold fast to the confession. Hebrews 4:14
My words…
Praise
Lord, whenever I read a particularly poignant scene, whether it be from a book of fiction or scripture, I close my eyes and attempt to place myself in that scene, standing afar off or hovering overhead, like a ghost. When I read about your gruesome death, the bare, physical facts of it, I struggle to maintain my ghostly presence. The air is saturated with the smell of sweat and blood. The agonizing cries of the robbers, hanging on your right and left, mingle with jeers from the crowd and the sobs of women. Your head hangs to one side. A thin stream of bright red blood trickles from an embedded thorn and runs across your eye, purple and swollen shut. Every inch of your body is caked with blood and dirt. I’ve seen enough. Just when I’ve decided to open my eyes and flee the first century, my attention is diverted to a group of Roman soldiers gathered nearby. Since their eyes have grown numb to the brutal spectacle of crucifixion, they find something to help wile away the hours until they are called upon to break the legs of the criminals and send them to their anticipated death. A game begins, right there at the foot of the cross. What are the chances they would confiscate a seamless garment owned by a reviled Jew? Too valuable to divide, they gamble for it. As the game ends, and the victorious soldier clutches the garment in his grimy hand, I wonder who made it. A woman, I believe, must have woven it on her loom and presented it to You, her Lord, as a token of her adoration. It must have been extremely difficult and time-consuming to create. Knowing that only high priests wear seamless tunics, the gift is appropriately given and received. The weaver used her talents to offer You an act of worship. She sacrificed her time and energy to create a perfect gift for her perfect Savior. It was…seamless.
Prayer for me
I’m not a weaver. I wish I could have known that first century woman with the talented, nimble fingers. I only have her example to follow. What gift of love may I present to You? I look to Your Holy Spirit to teach me, each day, how to live as You intend me to live, so I may present my life as a gift to You. However, my life is not a perfect seamless, garment. It’s been ripped and patched. You should know. You’re the One who patched it.
More Praise
I often wonder what that Roman solider did with your seamless garment. Did he wear it? Sell it? It doesn’t matter, does it? When You accepted that gift, You lifted the spirit of that lowly weaver to new heights. She was never the same. You do the same to me. I offer You my threadbare life. It doesn’t matter that it’s tattered. You make me…seamless. And I am never the same.
The sacrifice of the wicked is detestable to the Lord, but the prayer of the upright is His delight. Proverbs 15:8
My words…
Praise
I imagine there are many things in which You delight. New life bursts into the world every second. One person selflessly serves another. Orphans are adopted. Addicts find the road to recovery. A tormented soul is transformed by Your forgiveness and love. My prayers aren’t anywhere near this delightful, but apparently, my haphazard, stifled, wandering prayers delight You. What does that say about You? You aren’t very picky when it comes to prayers. You can’t wait to hear from me. You are genuinely interested in what happens to me, even on the boring days. You do not rank prayers according to their eloquence. You do not line them up and listen to them one at a time, according to the faith of the one praying. You do not give some more prominence than others; the prayer of a child is as delightful to You as the prayer of a king.
Who is the upright? Anyone lifting their spirit to you in prayer. You must be bombarded. How delightful for You!
