Dear God, on this Christmas morning, I want to spend some time with Eve and Mary. With this image. I want to see myself in Eve. I want to embody the shame on her face. The clutching of the apple. The serpent wrapped around her legs, ready to trip her. She is us. She is all of us. She is Adam. She is Abraham. She is David and Solomon. She is Peter. She is Paul. Frankly, she is even Mary and Joseph.
I think I mentioned this a couple of days ago, but I heard an Orthodox priest say last week that the Incarnation actually happened with Mary’s visit from Gabriel. The birth was the forthcoming of the incarnation, but the plan was officially in motion at that point. At least the part of the plan we can see.
But how am I like Eve, as depicted here by Sister Grace Remington? I come to you with a mixture of shame and wonder. She knows what she did. I know what I’ve done–mostly. Some things I’ve done wrong that I don’t even know, but I know I’ve failed you, myself, and others around me. And then to reach out at marvel at what is inside of Mary. To wonder what exactly it means. Not even Mary and Joseph knew exactly what the unborn Jesus would mean to them and to the world.
I see Satan trying to wrap himself around me. To hold me back. To trip me. To strike at my heel. To keep me from you. That is, after all his ultimate goal: to keep me from you.
Mary is holding Eve’s hand and her shoulder. Fellow sojourners. Fellow mothers. One with an awesome responsibility and yet in as much need as Eve. Mary is linked to Eve and Adam as much as I am. They are part of me. Their legacy lives on in me and the rest of us. And I don’t judge them. I love them. I appreciate them. I appreciate their strengths and their weaknesses. Their vulnerabilities.
Of course, Mary is crushing the serpent’s head with her foot. Some non-Catholics might take exception to this, but I don’t see this as Mary doing this, but the act of her obedience to play a role in the Incarnation as doing it. That’s what this process is about. That thing that is wrapped around me legs, that tries to keep me from you, is destroyed. Killed. If only I will ask the child Mary once carried inside of her to do it for me.
Eve doesn’t want to let go of the apple just yet. Yes, I have sins that I hold onto. I’m better. I think I’m better. I think I’ve let go of a lot of it. Help me, Father, to let go of all of it.
Father, Jesus, Holy Spirit, as I sit here on this Christmas morning, I find myself really being grateful. First, you did something very kind for my wife and me last night. Thank you. We really needed it. Take this little life of mine and use it to love others today, tomorrow, and for as long as it draws breath–and even beyond.
I pray to the Father in Jesus and with your Holy Spirit,
Dear God, I want to quote the movie Jesus Revolution. I was thinking about it this morning after I just saw a headline on my news feed from a reddit thread called “Am I the A*****?” It’s a place online where people bring their anger and hatred and look for redemption and affirmation among others who are angry and bitter. For some reason, when I saw it I thought back to this scene in Jesus Revolution. This is just a little clip, but it doesn’t have everything I was looking for. It cuts off just a little too soon:
Lonnie Frisbee is talking to Chuck Smith, the more traditional pastor. He’s explaining the hippies to Chuck:
“It reminds me of the words of Jesus: ‘To what then can I compare this generation? What are they like?’
“I was up in San Francisco for long time, living in in Haight Ashbury. In the Streets. All over. Man, we did everything and everyone. But that was the point. You see, the drugs. It’s a quest…For God.”
I look around me now as I enter this season of advent and I see people putting their faith in so many things. It might not be drugs. It might be a politician or political power. It might be money. It might be sex. And those idols start to let them down so they get angry. They get so angry. That’s what it feels like to me right now. It feels like I see so many people who are angry, and they are looking for you. They just don’t know they are looking for you.
My wife and I were talking yesterday about different forms of prosperity gospel. Some are more obvious and some more subtle. The more obvious ones say, “Do X and God will give you success.” Usually money. The more subtle ones will tell you that there is a formula for a successful life. This is one I bought into for a while until I was disillusioned. I was worshipping you, but I expected you to deliver me the family life I wanted. I wasn’t as focused on career, but I had an ideal of what a family could and should be, and I was incredibly disappointed in you when it didn’t turn out that way.
Of course, the reaction to an idol that disappoints us isn’t always anger. It can be depression too. Isn’t it interesting that more people in developed countries need antidepressants than those who live in undeveloped nations? We have everything at our fingertips while the person in the undeveloped nation has to struggle for something as basic as clean water. And yet we are the ones who suffer from anxiety at a higher rate. My uneducated guess is that they simply don’t have time to worry. They just struggle. It’s also interesting that those are the areas of the world where your church is growing. I know I always grow more when I am struggling.
So now I am waiting on Jesus during this season of Advent. I feel like I should maybe be doing something special here like I did with Lent. I’m not sure what that is, however. I have a devotion on the way that I will see if it helps. That’s what I did for Lent. But I know I want to continue to root out my own idols, expose them, reject them, and banish them. I want to be at peace with the path you have for me. I want to be willing to risk everything for you. Not my family, of course, because they are your highest calling to me. But if doing what you want me to do costs me reputation, money, comfort, security, etc., then I want to be willing to put that on the table. Thoughtfully. Prayerfully. Intentionally. I want to do exactly what you want me to do. Use the next 25 days to transform me into the next step of who you want me to be.
"Something Wicked" by Callie Feyenleaves sweep across the street
and branches bend
the wind
messes with papers
birds can't fly right
windows slam without human touch
car doors fling open
hair goes everywhere and nowhere
when the rain comes it falls sideways
maybe that's a summer wind
maybe that wind means well
an over exuberant child begging
to be put in the game
the winter wind
acts like it's won
bullys with icy breath
that picks at your legs
through your jacket
to your stomach
straight to the heart
winter wind acts like change will never come again
acts like it can wipe out anything and everything
doesn't want the world to remember
that even in a barren land
what falls
always leaves remnants
waiting to grow again
ready to converge with what rises**[Feyen's note] Everything That Rises Must Converge by Flannery O’Connor is my new favorite title, and a phrase I wonder about now most of my days.
Dear God, I read this poem this morning when I woke up, and it made me think about the wind in a different way. Living in Texas, summertime wind is almost always welcome as it helps cool things off. The town I live in was intentionally laid out on a Northwest/Southeast axis so that when the south wind blows it will come in the windows of two sides of the house and not just one. We need the wind in the summer to make being outside tolerable. It is our friend. It combines with the sweat that comes out of me to cool me. The closer my skin is to the wind the better. At the same time we are welcoming the wind, we are shielding ourselves from the sun. Shade is a premium. Trees. Tents. Gazebos. Even a cloudy day is a welcome sight in the summer. The temperature difference between being in the sun and being in the shade is huge. So, to summarize, summertime = wind/good + sun/bad.
The winter is opposite. For the short times of the year we experience winter down here, we shield ourselves from the wind. Even this morning, we had the windows open overnight and the study was chilly when I walked in. The ceiling fan was on because it runs 24/7 from March through November. But as I sat down, I realized I needed to turn off the fan. Even the small breeze from a ceiling fan on medium speed was not welcome in my study this morning. As the days will turn colder, I will shield myself from the wind. On the really cold days, I might even cover my face. The wind will hurt my skin. It will steal my warmth and run away. But I will seek out the sun. I’ll prefer to be in it rather than under a tree. I’ll open the shade that covers the moon roof of my truck for six months of the year. I will seek warmth because nature will be doing everything it can to take it from me. So, to summarize, wintertime = wind/bad + sun/good.
All of this leads me into the metaphor for my life. When I read Feyen’s poem this morning, it made me think of the winters of my life that can come in and bully the summer away. And sometimes it seems like that winter will last forever. I want protection from it. When things are good my temptation is to pray less and just live for myself more. But winter reminds me that I need your protection from the wind. I need your sun (Son?) to warm me. I need to clothe myself in prayer, godly inputs, and positive relationships. Summer requires self-discipline to remember to worship you and thank you for what I have, but winter drives me to you. And sometimes my self-discipline fails and I need to be driven to you. I need to be reminded I need you for my very breath. Winter has its place in my life. So I don’t fight it. I just clothe myself in you and see out your Son.
Father, form me today. In the words of the song “Spirit of the Living God,” break me, melt me, mold me, fill me. And let your presence, your Holy Spirit, fall afresh on me.
God, we thank you for the inspiration of Jesus. Grant that we will love you with all our hearts, souls, and minds, and love our neighbors as we love ourselves, even our enemy neighbors. And we ask you, God, in these days of emotional tension, when the problems of the world are gigantic in extent and chaotic in detail, to be with us in our going out and our coming in, in our rising up and in our lying down, in our moments of joy and in our moments of sorrow, until the day when there shall be no sunset and no dawn. Amen.”
Dear God, my wife read me this prayer last night, so I decided to find it and capture it for this morning. It seemed appropriate.
So, Father, I thank you for the inspiration of Jesus. I thank you for grace and mercy through Jesus. I thank you that you cannot see my sin through Jesus’s blood. Thank you that Jesus actually lived among us and taught us so much. Thank you that he showed us your way.
Help me to love you with everything I have today. My heart, that it will be healed and worship you through that healing. My mind, that it will be discerning and wise and look to see your direction for me in every moment. My strength, that I will take the body you’ve given me and use it as a blessing for others in your power. And my soul, that I will take the redeemed core you gave me and offer it to you as a living sacrifice that it might be shared with others.
Help me to love every person I come across today, both in-person and in my thoughts. Help me to love them with my words. Help me to love them with my actions. Help me to love sacrificially. Help me to love generously. That includes people who are at cross purposes with me. That includes people who frustrate me. Help me to be everything you want me to be for them. And of course, it includes my wife. Love her through me.
And walk with me today. Through every situation I encounter, be very present and there. Make me mindful of you and that I am taking you into the world. That you want to use me and your church that we might be your kingdom and will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Let there be peace today. Let there be peace around our nation. Let there be peace in Ukraine. Let there be peace in the Middle East. Let there be peace in Africa and South America. Let there be peace in North and Central American countries that refugees are fleeing. Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.
Hello friends. This is not a prayer to God. I’m letting anyone who reads this blog know that I have taken the prayer journals I did a few years ago on Mothers of the Bible and Fathers of the Bible, and put them all in one place. You can find it here on Substack.
There are 82 prayer journals that will drop once a week for the next 82 weeks, starting with Eve. If you read any of these prayers at the time, you know it was my way of trying to consider what their lives must have been like as parents. I was trying to see what God could teach me about myself as a parent through the struggles I’ve had. I learned a lot. I hope it can be a source of encouragement for others.
The Substack is free, but if you should want to download a pdf of all 82 journals at once you can subscribe for a month for $5, download the pdf, and then cancel your subscription. Of course, you can also go to any of them as they were written at the time from clicking the links I provided in the first paragraph.
Thank you for the kind support many of you give me through this blog. I hope my journey with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit through these prayers is an encouragement in your own discipleship. Journaling my way through scripture in this way has changed my life.
My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does, in fact, please you. And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I will do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. Amen.
Thomas Merton
Dear God, I came across this prayer last night. It was apparently a favorite of an old family friend who recently passed away. It expressed thoughts I’ve often felt but didn’t quite have the words for. It made me just want to sit with it a bit and talk with you about it.
I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end.
There are a lot of times when I am praying that the song “Lord, I Don’t Know” from the Newsboys will come to mind. The chorus starts, “Lord, I don’t know where all this is going or how it all works out.” Frankly, no one knows where they are going. Not one of us. None of us see the road ahead. Not one of us. We have not idea where our road ends. Not one of us. And we do not see where our neighbor’s road ends either. And yet we spend so much time thinking about the future. I spend so much time thinking about how things will work out for me and my loved ones. What will happen with the election? If this person wins or that person wins, what will happen? Frankly, it’s simply not within my purview to focus on that. What will happen at the end of life for my wife and me? Which of us will have to go on without the other? What will happen if I run out of money before I die? What will happen in my children’s lives? My nieces and nephews?
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
Life is a bit of a fog. My mind is a bit of a fog. From the moment all of us are born, we are operating under some level of delusion. We think we have needs we don’t have. We are afraid of things we don’t need to be afraid of. Then we grow and are raised by parents, relatives, friends, teachers, etc. who are living in as much of a fog as we are. Sometimes they teach us wrong things. We have biases. We have secret fears, and we will take shortcuts and sin to protect ourselves. And then we take all of that into the world. I take my confusion and apply it to life.
I’m about to put this set of prayer journals out from the prayers I did to you over biblical characters who were parents. I made a lot of assumptions in there. Some of them might be wrong. I get an idea to do something like put this thing out. Maybe that’s the wrong thing to do. Twenty-two years ago, I felt you call me to quit my job and set out in search of the career you had for me. I felt very much in the middle of your will at that moment. I remember reading something from someone at the time who talked about following your will and they said something to the effect of, “When I did this and absolutely knew I was in the middle of God’s will, after that I was afraid to cross the street if it wasn’t in God’s will.” But how do we know? I make all kinds of decisions every day that may or may not be in your will. I don’t intend to get outside of it, but I do.
My wife told me this week about a project she’s working on, and she told me she realized she had never asked you before she decided to do it. Yeah, I probably wouldn’t have either. I don’t stop and ask for your input on these things nearly often enough.
But I believe that the desire to please you does, in fact, please you. And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
I do believe that earnestness goes a long way. I suppose I have to believe that. If I don’t think you look at my genuine love for you and, instead, look only on my actual actions and decisions then there is no hope. When my children were little, if they did something wrong but it was for the right reason then it was a lot easier to overlook. If, however, it was intentionally malicious then there was hopefully a lesson to be learned about motive, integrity, and empathy. Even being here this morning, praying before you, I have a long day ahead. I am having breakfast with a friend in a couple of hours. I’m working a water booth at a festival after that. Then I’ll do other things and talk to other people. I have all kinds of opportunities to be dishonoring to you and to get outside of your plan. But I can tell you right now that my desire is to simply love you and represent your presence in this world through my little life.
And I know that if I will do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.
This is where faith comes in. When I did my “Parents of the Bible” series, one of the things that became very clear is that no one knew how things would turn out. Hagar didn’t know how things were going to play out for her and Ishmael. Naomi didn’t know how things would turn out after losing her husband and sons. Zechariah and Elizabeth didn’t know how things were turn out for John the Baptist and Jesus. And I have zero idea what is happening on the road I’m on right now. But I am trusting you that this road for me, my wife, my children, and others I love is the right road for your plan. It’s all I have. Atheists would say I am using my faith as a crutch, and perhaps I am. But you are a crutch I’ve reasoned myself towards. You’re an educated crutch. And it’s ironic that the closer I find myself growing to you the more I feel the fruit of your Holy Spirit growing in me. But yes, even when I am in the valley of the shadow of death, I am trusting this is the path for me, and that you have made it resistant to whatever mistakes I make.
Therefore I will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
Speaking of the valley of the shadow of death, here it is in the prayer. This part about you never leaving me to face my perils alone reminds me of the poem “Footprints in the Sand.”
One night I dreamed a dream. As I was walking along the beach with my Lord. Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life. For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand, One belonging to me and one to my Lord.
After the last scene of my life flashed before me, I looked back at the footprints in the sand. I noticed that at many times along the path of my life, especially at the very lowest and saddest times, there was only one set of footprints.
This really troubled me, so I asked the Lord about it. “Lord, you said once I decided to follow you, You’d walk with me all the way. But I noticed that during the saddest and most troublesome times of my life, there was only one set of footprints. I don’t understand why, when I needed You the most, You would leave me.”
He whispered, “My precious child, I love you and will never leave you Never, ever, during your trials and testings. When you saw only one set of footprints, It was then that I carried you.”
Father, there are times when I really need you to carry me. And there are other times when I am ready to put my feet down and get to work. As I enter this week of vacation, I think there is a little of both ahead of me. I could use some carrying and comfort. But I also think this might be an opportunity to make some progress on some personal things you’re asking me to do. But it all starts with me being here in your presence, with a heart that is flawed but earnest. With a life that can be selfish but repentant. With a heart that is afraid, but learning to trust you. Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief. All that I am, for all that you are.
Father, you convicted my wife and me about something this morning. We were talking about someone we love who can sometimes frustrate us, and we realized that while we sometimes throw them into our prayers when we pray for different groups of people together, we haven’t actually intentionally prayed for this person much at all, if at all. And this person has some of the most hurt from childhood of anyone I personally know. I can see why they would have a lot of issues. And that knowledge helps me be more tolerant of them, but do I actually intentionally pray to you on their behalf? No.
So, I’m here this morning to pray for this one person. You know who they are. They need your love. They need your healing. They need you. They need to know what it is to lay down their life, take up your cross and follow you. They need to know that you are what life is about, you are there for them, and you are waiting to surround them with love and shower them with all of the acceptance they never received. Heal their wounds. Fill in the gaps of their heart. Cover them with a sense of your presence. Help them to seek you and know you. Draw them in so they can begin to have your Spirit and the fruits of your Spirit grow out of them. Show me the role you have for me to play in their life. Raise up people in their life who can be your hands and feet to them. Your words and counsel. Your comfort.
Father, there are so many I know who need this exact prayer. I have two or three others’ names going in my head right now. Be that God to them. Love them. Show me how to love them on your behalf. Let your kingdom come and your will be done on earth, through us, as it is in heaven.
Dear God, I woke up this morning and I thought, I need to put something Godly in me before I get going. So I decided to listen to the most recent homily from Fr. Mike Schmitz from 9/16/24. Of course, I made a huge mistake and happened upon a couple of news stories designed to make me fearful and, yes, I read them. By as I was reading them, I was able to acknowledge them for what they were and deny the idols that the articles were telling me would make everything better if I would just believe in them and do what they say. So maybe I’m getting a little better after all.
Getting back to Fr. Mike, he asked a question of all of us. He started by telling a story about a man he met who collects “life philosophies” from people he knows and meets, and he asked Fr. Mike what his life philosophy was. He didn’t have a great answer in the moment, but it’s a question I decided to try to answer for myself. If someone were to ask me for my life philosophy, what would I answer? More important, if it is a noble philosophy, do I live up to it?
The first thing that came to mind is my “life verse.” I’ve talked to you about it before. I discovered it when I was 17, and I knew then that it was special. Acts 20:24: However, I consider my life worth nothing to me. If only I may finish the race and complete the talk the Lord Jesus has given me. The task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace. I think that’s the key. It’s what Job ultimately learned through his trials. It’s what Paul came to pretty quickly after his conversion. The apostles who witnessed Jesus’s death almost all met their own deaths “testifying to [Jesus’s resurrection and] the gospel of God’s grace.” Honestly, I think it is the perfect life philosophy.
Ah, but do I live up to it? Do I protect myself from ridicule or rejection for your gospel? Do I risk my financial security for it? Am I doing it at all? If I am doing it at all, am I doing it enough? The answer, of course, is no. I’m doing it somewhat, but I am sure I could do more. I am sure I could be more and risk more for your kingdom. For your gospel. That doesn’t mean I need to be reckless, but I do need to intentional in sharing your gospel.
Father, I want to pray right now for the people around the world who do offer their lives for your gospel. Whether it is comfort and stability, or it is all of the way to death, there are people right now who are giving everything, literally everything, out of worship to you. Be with them. Strengthen them. Comfort them. If you are willing, free them. And don’t let the pain they are experiencing be wasted. Make it count. And make my life count. Don’t let the portions of my life that are painful be wasted either. Use it to form me and form others. Mold me into the man you want me to be. A man who would be able to ask himself if he is holding back sharing the gospel out of self preservation and answer it with a resounding, “No!” I love you, Father. I love you Jesus. I love you Holy Spirt. My Triune God, three in one.
Dear God, I finished watching this video as I got ready for work this morning, and it kind of fit in with the theme of the week for me: How do we understand we are loved regardless of what we bring to the table?
Of course, I talked already this week about Fr. Mike Schmitz’s homily on “Nothing to Offer” and how we make a mistake when we avoid you when we have nothing to offer and when we come to you trying to justify our presence before you by all of the good things we’ve tried to do. No, the way to come before you is just by humbly accepting your grace.
This made me think of Jenny and Forrest as they discussed them in the Cinema Therapy video above because it really didn’t matter what Jenny brought to Forrest. She could bring her best. She could bring her worst. She could bring her physically abusive boyfriend. She could reject him. She could abandon him or ignore him. She could try to seduce him in her college dorm room. It didn’t matter. The good. The bad. He just loved her with a very simple love. He wanted to be there to protect her as much as she would let him protect her. He wanted to provide for her as much as she would let him provide for her.
I can’t help but wonder, as I sit here this morning, if this isn’t at least a glimpse of you with us. We keep orbiting you in an oblong path. Sometimes we get a little closer and enter into your gravitational pull. Sometimes we move away from you and spin out on our own. Kind of like Jenny did with Forrest. But there is a need in us that, once we’ve been introduced to you, draws us back to you time and again. And so, like Jenny, we try to bring you things. Maybe a nice pair of Nikes (in Jenny’s case). Maybe giving money to a nonprofit (in my case). And you are pleased with that like Forrest was pleased with the Nikes, but it’s not why you’re there. It’s not why you love us. You just love us because we are here.
I had a difficult, scary man in my office this week who has been arrested many, many times. He has really been on my heart this week. How do I introduce him to your love for him in a way that keeps my coworkers safe? Show me what to do in that relationship.
Last night, coworker sent me a Casting Crowns song that goes with all of this. It’s called “All Because of Mercy.”
I’ll close by praying some of the lyrics of this song:
I could stand here and try to tell you
I found my way here on my own
Brought to life this heart of stone
Made up my own mind to change my own life
Workin' my own way to good,
As if anybody could
But the truth is, I've been broken
Since my very first breath
And the truth is, I've been wanderin'
Since my very first step
I know the only reason
I can stand here unashamed
It's not because I'm worthy
It's all because of mercy
There's no way I could earn it
Praise God, my dept is paidIt's not because I'm worthy
It's all because of mercy
I still remember the day He found me
Six feet under all my cshame
I heard Him call me out by name
Hallelujah, the cross has spoken
Jesus, my Savior, bled and died
To bring this dead man back to life
I pray this in Jesus and with your Holy Spirit,
Dear God, I have a weird little habit. I love college football (that’s not the weird part), but one of my favorite things to do the day after the games is go to the postgame press conferences for the coaches who lost to see what they have to say. So for yesterday’s games, I have checked out Deion Sanders (Colorado) and Joey McGuire (Texas Tech), and then I watched some reactions from a couple of people who are Notre Dame fans. Why do I do that? Why am I interested in seeing someone 1.) in pain and 2.) trying to explain that pain or their perspective on why the loss happened verbally?
I wonder if it is a “misery loves company” situation. Do I consider myself a miserable person? No. And I’m not relishing Joey McGuire’s or Deion’s pain. I like both of them. But there seems to be this communal reaction to pain that helps if it is shared by others. For the sorrows in my life, when I talk about them with others, I find that it helps them and it helps me. It makes me more human and flawed in their eyes which is usually a good thing so that people won’t think more of me than they should and feel like they have to live up to a “perfect” life they perceive me to have.
There is a line from the first season of Ted Lasso after they entire team has been through a tough loss. He says, “I promise you there is something worse out there than being sad. And that is being alone and being sad.” [Note to anyone reading: If you click that link it will be a spoiler if you haven’t seen the show]. While this scene is playing, they are running a song under it called, “You’ll never walk alone.”
“You’ll Never Walk Alone”
When you walk through a storm Hold your head up high And don’t be afraid of the dark
At the end of a storm There’s a golden sky And the sweet silver song of a lark
Walk on through the wind Walk on through the rain For your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on With hope in your heart And you’ll never walk alone
You’ll never walk alone
Walk on, walk on With hope in your heart And you’ll never walk alone
Songwriters: Oscar Hammerstein II / Richard Rodgers
Father, I go through setbacks, but I don’t walk alone. First, I have a God who has literally experienced any pain I can experience through his own existence and through the human life he lived 2,000 years ago. Then you’ve given me a wife, parents, siblings, and friends to walk with. Yes, I have pain. Yes, sometimes it hurts. But I am not walking alone, and for that, I am grateful.
I offer this thankful, worshipful prayer to you in Jesus and with your Holy Spirit,
Emails to God 