In those days John the Baptist came, preaching in the Wilderness of Judea and saying, “Repent, because the kingdom of heaven has come near!” For he is the one spoken of through the prophet Isaiah, who said: A voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way for the Lord; make His paths straight! John himself had a camel-hair garment with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then people from Jerusalem, all Judea, and all the vicinity of the Jordan were flocking to him, and they were baptized by him in the Jordan River as they confessed their sins. Matthew 3:1-6
My words…
Praise
You chose John, before he was born, to be the Herald of God. What an honor, to be the one to share the news that every child of Abraham had been waiting to hear. He knew exactly how to do it. He had read about himself in Isaiah and Malachi! He set himself apart from everyone else around him: he dressed in strange clothes, ate unappetizing food, and hung out in desolate places. But, lo, people flocked to see him, to hear him. You gave him a simple message directed to a specific audience: Israel! Get yourselves cleaned up! The King is coming! You knew Israel was not ready. It was a grimy nation, having committed all manner of sin. Yet the repentance of Israel was sought on a personal level when men and women asked, “How do I get clean? Tell me what to do.” And John did. So when the precious Lamb of God arrived on the scene, many were clean and ready. John stretched out the crooked path and made it straight for the King. You called him to do it, and he obeyed.
Prayer for me
From this passage, Your Spirit has taught me that I have a message to share just as John, the Herald of God: Get ready! The King is coming back! The pest control man who comes to my house writes scripture passages on his receipts – he’s a herald. The daycare worker who sends a child home singing, “Jesus loves me” – she’s a herald. It doesn’t take living in a field, wearing fur, and eating bugs. It just takes a heart overflowing with the desire to share my joy with others. Forgive me when I get preoccupied with worldly day-to-day stuff and lose sight of the reason for my joy and neglect to share it with others. Give me the strength of spirit to help stretch out the crooked path and make it straight for the coming of the King.
Prayer for others
There are so many lost souls around me. Some have closed their ears to a herald, but not all. Your Spirit is constantly at work in the hearts of those who are seeking You. I pray they will be drawn to ask, “What must I do to welcome the King when He comes again?” And when they hear the answer to that question, they will be drawn to a never-ending source of peace.
More praise
There are so many things in life to look forward to: the change of seasons, re-connecting with an old friend, reading a good book, hearing the laughter of children, feasting with family and friends, watching the sun set. I could go on and on. But none of these compares to the anticipation of the arrival of the Son of God in all of His glory. The herald’s cry will ring throughout the earth: THE KING IS HERE!
Lord, I haven’t understood the beauty of this verse until recently. In times past, this verse frustrated, embarrassed, and convicted me. I didn’t pray constantly. I asked You, “How is that even possible?” Jesus didn’t pray constantly, neither did Paul, the writer of this passage. It’s so like me to take Your words and fit them into my mold of understanding, a very rigid mold, indeed. But lately, Your Spirit has revealed mold-smashing truths through the practices of other saints. The prayer life of Brother Lawrence is a lesson for me: His own prayer was nothing else than a sense of the presence of God, his soul being at that time insensible to everything but Divine Love. When the appointed times of prayer were past, he found no difference, because he still continued with God, praising and blessing Him. I now know that prayer is SO much more than words said sitting at the kitchen table, kneeling at a bedside, bowing in a worship service, or crying in a cemetery. For the one who has truly surrendered her heart to You, prayer is constant. The prayer I am writing now will not take long to complete. I write to You because writing forces me to ponder each word and compare it against other words to lay before You because You deserve the best of my thoughts and meditations. But prayer is a deep river, flowing through my heart and spirit, along the shores of my day and night. It is a constant adoration for You as I cut carrot sticks, rake leaves, sit at a red light, sweep the porch, lick frosting from the bowl, fellowship with saints, listen to a friend, or open the door to my office. Your presence surrounds me, and I am locked onto Your frequency. I praise You as the constant listener of my constant prayers.
Then David praised the Lord in the sight of all the assembly. David said, May You be praised, Lord God of our father Israel, from eternity to eternity. Yours, Lord, is the greatness and the power and the glory and the splendor and the majesty, for everything in the heavens and on earth belongs to You. Yours, Lord, is the kingdom, and You are exalted as head over all. Riches and honor come from You, and You are the ruler of everything. Power and might are in Your hand, and it is in Your hand to make great and to give strength to all. Now therefore, our God, we give You thanks and praise Your glorious name. 1 Chronicles 29:10-13
…for every animal of the forest is Mine, the cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird of the mountains, and the creatures of the field are Mine. If I were hungry, I would not tell you, for the world and everything in it is Mine. Psalm 50:10-12
My words…
Praise
In the spring, I bought a hibiscus plant, a bag of potting soil, and a pot. I planted the hibiscus in the pot, watered it, and watched it grow. It’s lovely. But it’s not mine. When guests come to my house and admire my hibiscus, I say, “Oh, thank you.” What I should say is, “Oh, it’s not mine. It’s God’s.” I mistakenly believe that I actually own stuff. I don’t. It’s all Yours – on loan to me. You gave me a house to use as You would use it. My precious children are Yours – gifts for me to raise as You would raise. My aging body is not even mine. You indwell it. It’s Yours. Now for the intangibles: All of the greatness of Your creation belongs to You – the greatness of space, of man’s innovation, of government and law, of amnesty and peace accords, my greatness (my ability to think and grow). All power is Yours – the power of weapons, of titles, of nations, of corporations, of fame, my power. (If I withheld water from my hibiscus, it would die. That is power.) All glory is Yours – the glory of family, of birds’ nests, of funerals, of hymns, my glory. (I am a child of Yours, made in Your image.) All splendor is Yours – the splendor of art, of waterfalls, of joyful tears, of friendship, my splendor (my robe, white as snow). All majesty is Yours – the majesty of eagles, of canyons, of cathedrals, of rainbows, my majesty. (I am a daughter of The King.) I praise Your glorious name.
Prayer for me
I enjoy making things. I gather raw materials and turn them into useful or decorative objects. I take words and weave them into stories and prayers. But these “things” are not creations, for to create something I must make something from nothing (like You do). You supply the raw materials, so even what I make myself is not mine. I am a selfish being. One of the first words I learned to say, after mama and dada, was mine. Help me embrace and be comforted by the wonderful truth that absolutely nothing is mine.
Forgive me
Forgive me for grasping tightly onto what I think I own. It’s a pride issue. Surely I can take care of this person better than You. I worked really hard for this – it’s mine. Hands off. With Your forgiveness and strength, I will be at peace when I release my grip on those “things” I hold dear.
More praise
My Spirit twirls at the thought that one day You will return and gather up what is Yours. On that day I will no longer care about my house, and my stories, and my hibiscus. I will be rejoicing that I am among those whose name tag reads Yours.
You must not oppress a foreign resident; you yourselves know how it feels to be a foreigner because you were foreigners in the land of Egypt. Exodus 23:9
Dear friend, you are showing faithfulness by whatever you do for the brothers, especially when they are strangers. 3 John 5
My words…
Praise
From a child, I was taught to be wary of strangers. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t take candy from strangers. Decades later, those words still echo in my mind when I am approached by someone I don’t know. (Except for the candy part. I think I would take candy from anyone.) Jesus, You sought out twelve strangers to hang out with for the final three years of Your earthly life. You called to a stranger who had climbed a tree to see You better and invited Yourself to his house. You healed strange, contagious people who called out to You, begged You, and grabbed You. But then again, were they really strangers to You? To the wholly man, they were, but to the wholly God, they weren’t. You knew their hearts, their intentions. But that never stopped You from healing the ungrateful or teaching the stone-hearted. But one thing is for sure: You were a stranger to them, and many treated You thus. You, the God of creation being treated as a stranger within what You created. That must be the reason You loved every stranger: You knew how it felt to be a “foreigner” in a land in which You knew the number of leaves on every tree.
Prayer for me
Just as I was taught to take care around strangers, so was I taught to practice kindness to all. But there is a difference between my kindness to strangers and Your compassion for them. That is what I lack. I smile and say hello, but I don’t care to know about their cares and struggles. It’s just too much of a burden for me. Their concerns may take up too much of my time. And so I pray – fill me with compassion for the strangers I move among. Remove the selfish film from my eyes so I may see them as You would see them.
Forgive me
There are so many blessings I embrace by being a child of Yours. You offer peace during my times of stress, rest when I am life-weary, joy in the most unlikely places. But what is most precious to me is Your unfailing, never-ending forgiveness. It wouldn’t be as precious if I never messed up. But I do mess up. All the time. And so I need forgiveness. All the time. Today I ask Your forgiveness for my lack of compassion, especially to strangers. Forgive me for my apathetic attitude. Forgive me for not practicing what You teach.
Prayer for others
What I have learned about being a stranger has taken place the last few years when I left the white fields of snow for the white fields of cotton. I don’t think “smoke” should be a flavor of meat and collard greens are just not edible. I live among those who use words like “win-der” instead of “window.” I am the stranger here. But I do not suffer ill treatment because of it. There are millions around the globe who have been displaced from their homes. They live in camps and shanty towns, in makeshift homes or tents. They are persecuted, ravaged, and murdered because they are foreigners. They are truly strangers. Protect them, Lord. Send comforters and liberators. Send people whose hearts are more compassionate than mine.
More praise
To the rolling hills, tumbling streams, and majestic mountains, You are no stranger. The blue jay, mountain lion, and white shark know You by name, as does every demon. And You are not a stranger to me. I may not know You as well as the oceans do, but I know You well enough to recognize Your hand in my life. And the one thing that fully sustains my spirit, that fills my heart with indescribable joy, is the surety that I am not a stranger to You.
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea no longer existed. I also saw the Holy City, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared like a bride adorned for her husband. Then I heard a loud voice from the throne: Look! God’s dwelling is with humanity, and He will live with them. They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will no longer exist; grief, crying, and pain will exist no longer, because the previous things have passed away. Revelation 21:1-4
My words…
Praise
Pain – the warning mechanism You placed in me so I wouldn’t die too soon. Pain is the lingering, unwelcome guest of life. It sits at the curb then arrives, uninvited and barging, rudely invading my space. It screams, “Something’s not right here!” I tell it to shut up and kick it back to the curb when the chemicals kick in. I throw the deadbolt. I never want to see its snarling face again. But in time, it kicks down the door or slithers underneath. As much as I dread its arrival, I know one thing for sure: when it decides to skulk away, its absence is so keenly felt. Each time the relief and comfort grow more precious. I treasure each pain-free moment. It is hard for me to imagine an existence where pain is not lurking nearby. Just because I can’t imagine it doesn’t mean I don’t believe it. You revealed it to the Apostle John, and he has shared it with me. How would I live if I did not have to worry about experiencing pain? I can’t wait to find out!
Prayer for me
Most of the blemishes on my body are associated with pain: wrinkles, scars, stretch marks. Ibuprofen is my new best friend. I am not praying to be pain-free. I am praying for the strength to find You during my pain-filled moments. Barbara Brown Taylor writes that “pain is one of the fastest routes to a no-frills encounter with the Holy.” You won’t always make my pain go away; instead You will use it as an avenue for us to meet and be real with each other because pain brings out the real.
Prayer for others
I wouldn’t think of praying to You about pain without petitioning for so many who live each day in physical misery. Pain clamps down on them in throbs and spasms. Pain pills, pain clinics, and pain management are as normal as three meals a day. I know You better than to ask You to eliminate all pain in the world, so I pray that those who suffer will have a no-frills encounter with You.
Thank You
When my children experience pain, it may as well be me. How often did I wish that I could suck the pain out of their bodies and into mine, like liquid through a straw. Then I remember Your pain, Jesus. How great was Your Father’s desire to draw that pain onto Himself to spare You, yet He didn’t. He didn’t because of me. I don’t like to think about Your pain. It troubles my soul. Without it, though, I would have no way to be with You someday. So thank You for bearing it. I hope You encountered Your Father in the midst of it.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. All things were created through Him, and apart from Him not one thing was created that has been created. Life was in Him, and that life was the light of men. That light shines in the darkness, yet the darkness did not overcome it. The Word became flesh and took up residence among us. We observed His glory, the glory as the One and Only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. John 1:1-15, 14
My words…
Praise
God, You are full of good ideas. My immune system: a very good idea. Gravity: a winner. But Your best idea happened before creation when You decided that, at just the right time, You would slip into human skin and take up residence on earth. That particular idea has thrilled, angered, confounded, and convicted humankind since it happened. Volumes of books have been written on the subject. I don’t think many people understand what an excellent idea that was. This was the sure-fire way for Your children to really get to know You. You do not act like the gods that man creates. You do not live on an ethereal mountain, grasping a thunderbolt, or under the sea swinging a trident. You do not dwell within idols in the image of monkeys or elephants. You are driven by love, and that is why sending Jesus here was the best idea. What other way was there to show me how much You love me? It was perfect – like Him. You could have just given me some scriptures with depictions of Your love, but that wasn’t enough for You. You decided to live like I do, confined to a resilient yet perishable body among smelly, infuriating, sinful people. You gave up heavenly light for sunburned skin. You left the songs of angels for the profanity of ingrates. Were You reminded of a painless heaven the first time You hit Your thumb with a mallet? When You ate something that made You sick, did You heal Yourself so Your ailment would not impede Your ministry? It’s a wonder to contemplate.
Thank You
Thank You for enduring the confinements of incarnation. You didn’t need to live among humans to know what it’s like to be one. You made me. You know exactly what it’s like to be me. And You still chose to come. The fact that You came up with the idea to do it is amazing. The fact that You actually did it, is indescribable. No words. Just prostrate.
Where can I go to escape Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence? If I go up to heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, You are there. Psalm 139:7-8
My words…
Prayer of adoration
Reading C. S. Lewis is like walking through a dense forest where compelling questions hang off the trees like vines and brush across my mind. I emerge with answers to questions I never thought to ask – and then more questions. His words are not scripture, but they lead me to meditate on scripture for hours. I was uplifted to read his description of how his pleasures lead to adoration of You: “This heavenly fruit is instantly redolent of the orchard where it grew. This sweet air whispers of the country from whence it blows. It is a message. We know we are being touched by a finger of that right hand at which there are pleasures for evermore. Gratitude exclaims, very properly, ‘How good of God to give me this.’ Adoration says, ‘What must be the quality of that Being whose far-off and momentary coruscations are like this!’ One’s mind runs back up the sunbeam to the sun.” While eating my lunch at an outdoor table of a restaurant yesterday, a small brown-feathered bird fluttered at my feet, waiting, I presumed, for a hand-out. Other patrons were dropping orts for other birds, and this one patiently waited his turn. Gazing on this little creature, I set down my fork and thought of You. His feathers lay against his body perfectly in order, in both shape and color. His tiny talons were in exact proportion to his body. His head (bless him) never stopped moving, darting in every direction except backward. I dropped a small piece of lettuce onto the ground beside him. He didn’t move. He looked at me as if to say, “Lettuce? Really?” I think what he really wanted was junk food. I didn’t blame him. It’s what I wanted, as well. To some, this would seem to be a miniscule pleasure, hardly one to take into account. But not for me. It was a heart-to-overflowing pleasure because the little creature was silently screaming, “God says hello! And keep eating that salad!” Lewis understood this. Far more deeply than I. You are the true source of my pleasure. Forgive me that my adoration is never commensurate.
Prayer of gratitude
To be grateful for the pleasures I experience through what I sense around me is to be grateful to You for who You are. It’s through Your goodness and attention they are there in the first place. You speak to me through them. I never hear Your voice in my ear, but it calls to my spirit – very clearly. A cool breeze on a warm evening – there You are. The laughter of my children – that’s You, too. Lewis said, “…not everyone can find God in a plain slice of bread and butter.” But I can. And I am filled with joy and thankfulness every time! This is an unconventional prayer, I know. (I blame Clive.) But I am nonetheless genuine as I plunge through my heart and mind for words that seem to come so easily to Lewis: “These pure and spontaneous pleasures are ‘patches of Godlight’ in the woods of our experience.” I wish I would have said that.
Make every effort to supplement your faith with goodness, goodness with knowledge, knowledge with self-control, self-control with endurance, endurance with godliness, godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they will keep you from being useless or unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. The person who lacks these things is blind and shortsighted and has forgotten the cleansing from his past sins. Therefore, brothers, make every effort to confirm your calling and election, because if you do these things you will never stumble. For in this way, entry into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ will be richly supplied to you. Therefore I will always remind you about these things, even though you know them and are established in the truth you have. I consider it right, as long as I am in this bodily tent, to wake you up with a reminder, knowing that I will soon lay aside my tent, as our Lord Jesus Christ has also shown me. 2 Peter 1:5-14
My words…
Prayer for me
Lord, I have faith that You exist and created me and everything I see, hear, and touch. I have faith that You are alive and actively working in this world. I can sit here and praise You every day. I can go to church and write my prayers every week. Year after year. And before I know it, I have the faith equivalent of iron-poor blood. Then I read these words of Peter and realize that I need a faith supplement – doses of faith-building traits. These supplements are powerful – powerful enough to awaken a drowsy faith. Some are hard to swallow, like goodness. What if I take a double dose of self-control and skip goodness? No? I didn’t think so. I pray for Your Spirit to teach me goodness. It’s not that I choose to do bad, I just choose not to do good. And love? I am deficient in love. If I truly loved others, I would be heart-broken over their decisions to not serve You. Help me to heed Peter’s wake up call and not roll over and hit the snooze button.
Forgive me
Forgive me when I neglect to take my supplements and grow comfortable in being useless and unfruitful in the knowledge of Jesus. I am sorry that I have been blind and shortsighted, forgetting (or taking for granted) the freedom I enjoy because of the cleansing of my past sins. If I lived my life with my spiritual eyes wide open, I wouldn’t need a wake-up call at all.
Thank You
Thank You, Holy Trinity, for enduring the hardship, sacrifice, and pain to give me a perfect example of how to live. Jesus lived a life of goodness, knowledge, self-control, endurance, brotherly kindness, and love. His life screams, “Here! Do it this way!” You provide an eternal kingdom for Your children to dwell richly. The very least I can do is enter that kingdom with a well-supplemented faith.
Then God spoke to Noah, “Come out of the ark, you, your wife, your sons, and your sons’ wives with you. Bring out all the living creatures that are with you – birds, livestock, those that crawl on the ground – and they will spread over the earth and be fruitful and multiply on the earth.” So Noah, along with his sons, his wife, and his sons’ wives, came out. All wildlife, all livestock, every bird, and every creature that crawls on the earth came out of the ark by their groups. Then Noah built an altar to the Lord. He took some of every kind of clean animals and every kind of clean bird and offered burnt offerings on the altar. When the Lord smelled the pleasing aroma, He said to Himself, “I will never again curse the ground because of man, even though man’s inclination is evil from his youth. And I will never again strike down every living thing as I have done. As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, and day and night will not cease.” Genesis 8:15-22
Therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, I urge you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God; this is your spiritual worship. Romans 12:1
My words…
Praise
Lord, I doubt You have had many prayers lifted toward heaven regarding Your nose. Your face, eyes, and ears? Yes. Your nose? Probably not. But I have been meditating on Your nose – what You find pleasing and repulsive to smell. A long time ago, You shared with Your creation an acceptable way to worship, and it involved Your nose. Build an altar, place on it a sacrifice, and set it on fire. Where there is fire – there’s smoke. Smoke never falls – it always rises. And it always carries with it an odor. I have never smelled burning fur, skin, or feathers, but it doesn’t matter what it smells like to me. It matters what it smells like to You. The odor could be offensive to me but lovely to You because what You smell is not burning fur, skin, or feathers. You smell worship. You smell obedience. You smell submission. And to You, that is more pleasing than blooming lilacs, fine spices, or the smell of a newborn’s breath.
Prayer for me
You do not call me to build an altar, kill an animal or bird and set it on fire. Jesus was the sacrifice to end all sacrifices. So now, You are pleased by the odor of a living sacrifice – my thoughts and actions offered to You as worship in obedience and submission. Not often enough, though. Not intense enough, either.
Forgive me
I know that my sacrifice to You sometimes smells like garbage. It’s not sincere. It’s offered lightly, with indifference, frustration, or even anger. Forgive me for not offering You the choicest, cleanest part of myself.
Thank You
I am so thankful for the fact that the sweet, pleasing aroma of Jesus’ sacrifice rises to You still. It permeates heaven, chasing away the repugnant odor of my faltering attempt at sacrifice.
More Praise
You are changeless. You are the One who accepted Noah’s sacrifice, and You accept mine. The methods may differ, but You welcome the fragrant smell of self-sacrificing worship from any who offer it – devout men and women, innocent children, martyrs, evangelists, prophets, teachers, all of creation! How sweet heaven must smell!
So Sarah said to Abraham, “Drive out this slave with her son, for the son of this slave will not be a coheir with my son Isaac!” Early in the morning Abraham got up, took bread and a waterskin, put them on Hagar’s shoulders, and sent her and the boy away. She left and wandered in the Wilderness of Beer-sheba. When the water in the skin was gone, she left the boy under one of the bushes. Then she went and sat down nearby, about a bowshot away, for she said, “I can’t bear to watch the boy die!” So as she sat nearby, she wept loudly. God heard the voice of the boy, and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, “What’s wrong, Hagar? Don’t be afraid, for God has heard the voice of the boy from the place where he is. Get up, help the boy up, and support him, for I will make him a great nation.” Then God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water. So she went and filled the waterskin and gave the boy a drink. Genesis 21:10, 14-18
I love the Lord because He has heard my appeal for mercy. Because He has turned His ear to me, I will call out to Him as long as I live. Psalm 116:1-2
My words…
Praise
All praise to You, God, who hears the voice of a dying boy over the anguished weeping of his mother. No sound escapes Your hearing, no creature too insignificant to be heard. I don’t know what Ishmael prayed that prompted You to send Your angel to rescue him, but I love that You did. You hear my “proper” prayers spoken aloud with a steady voice. You hear my whisper prayers, my shouting prayers, and my crying prayers. You hear unspoken prayers: petitions, intercessions, and praise formed deep in my spirit and raised to You in silence. I never worry You cannot hear me.
Prayer for me
I pray earnestly for wisdom. A wise person knows what words and sounds to bring before Your ears.
Forgive me
Lord, there have been and will be times I fear You do not hear me when I pray. It’s a faith issue, I know. A loving Father always listens to His daughter. When I question whether You hear me, I doubt the strength of Your love for me. So, I ask for Your forgiveness.
Thank You
Thank You for hearing me and sending me confirmations. I am not even surprised by them any longer!
More praise
You hear the prayers of children and their weeping mothers, You hear every word of worship offered by angels and humans; You hear confessions and vows and eulogies. And You hear the conspiracies of demons and the vulgarity of humankind. You hear the flutter of hummingbirds wings and the sound of fur growing on a baby rabbit. But most importantly to me, You know the sound of my voice.
