There’s a moment in Psalm 5 where David tells us to “be agitated (angry), and do not sin; ponder in your own hearts . . . and be silent.” As a poet and lyricist, David isn’t suggesting we abandon messy words but he knows a pondering posture eventually leads to powerful words of praise.

I want to challenge you this week to feed on God’s faithfulness. The Hebrew word for “feed” could also be translated graze or drive to pasture, so ask Jesus to shepherd you into the fields of His faithfulness. Ask for eyes to see and receive what you haven’t known before. Ask for the strength to dwell and enjoy.

I know I’m asking you to do scary and sacrificial work. But I promise the Spirit will meet you in those tender places. He is gracious, patient, faithful, and He longs for us to know as we are known.

We’re in the middle of a series on Rest, and I was asked to teach on Psalm 116, with an emphasis on prayer. God gave me a four-part framework that, from what I hear, is already helping people move through the tensions that come with prayer, hope, death, and disappointment.

It’s true that the good we are seeking doesn’t often come on our timetable, but Scripture tells us we can believe anything is possible because Jesus’s resurrection power brings certainty, a certainty that overcomes every fear, anxiety, and pain, including death.

It took me a while to realize I was missing Paul’s big point. I wanted the peace—don’t we all!— but I didn’t want to actually release my cares, worries, or anxieties to God. Letting go felt risky and foolish. I wanted to hedge my bets.

When you feel anxious or ill-equipped this week, pull out the paper and pray through these words, receiving them as your own. Take a few deep breaths as you ask the One who searches and knows all things to guide you forward.

Unforgiveness keeps us from knowing what to pray, and it causes our relationship with God to devolve into bitterness and disappointment. But as we exhale forgiveness, a spaciousness is formed in us, and we find the capacity to move through conflicts and concerns.

Take a quick inventory of your experience with people who “know everything,” the ones who make it their mission to prove how right they are and how wrong everyone else is. They are some of the most unloving and divisive people, right? Have you been that person before? (I know I have.)

We cannot give what we do not have, so I promise you, if you rest in His sufficiency, God will teach you His healing sound.

As we move into Easter, I want to challenge you to be real with God. Don’t just skip ahead to what happens on Sunday. If you feel abandoned by Him, pray into Jesus’s journey to the Cross. Of course, be humble before your God but for heaven’s sake be honest. He already knows your thoughts and can handle your words. Never forget that Jesus’s holiness creates space for your humanity.

Prayer is the pathway into and through the void. It’s also our source of power and promise, calming our minds and hearts, releasing us from anxiety’s grip. The void is dark and mysterious, for it represents every undiscovered part of us, but prayer is the light that reveals what’s always been true, truth that remains hidden until we are ready to receive it as a gift.

When it comes to prayer, are you quick to hear and slow to speak? Do you just fire off a bunch of words in God’s direction and move onto whatever’s next? I know I have a bend toward such prayers. That’s why I want to remind us today that prayer is less about performance—i.e., getting the words right—and more about a surrendered awareness that only comes with a listening posture.

As we lay down our self-sufficiency, taking our focus off ourselves, we become more grounded in God’s Omni-Nature, finding eyes to see that the whole earth is full of His glory (and that even includes us, His “very good” work). The holiness of God invites us to see Him in the wholeness of creation, for the Eternal One is indeed the Source of all goodness, truth, and beauty.

Are there areas in your life where you feel held back and need a breakthrough, a sudden advance beyond or through an obstacle?

God doesn’t need perfect words but he does need you to participate. Our imperfect prayers and cries will, in the most surprising of ways, open us up to the miraculous work that He’s doing in us.

I wanted to share Robert’s quote on turning your Bible into prayer. If you don’t already, try considering your time in Scripture as a moment of private prayer. God speaks through Scripture, and he loves it when we use Scripture to speak to him. If you’re looking for a good place to start, visit the Psalms. They’ve been spoken and sung to God for thousands of years. Psalm 142 is currently a personal favorite of mine.

Only God knows what 2024 holds for us, but he’s not trying to keep us in the dark. Whatever God hides from us, he ultimately hides for us, preparing us to know the Truth and receive it as our own. And the greatest truth of all is the promise of Immanuel—God for us, God with us, and God within us. A promise that becomes more and more real as we learn to embrace prayer as a way of life.

We don’t have to carry the weight of what’s to come, and we don’t need all the answers. What we need is to be led by the One who is the Answer to whatever may come.

In this Christmas season, let’s be those who live with active patience, lifting our eyes and steadying our hearts so we can be faithful with our hands. Through grace we can see every mundane responsibility, such as the upkeep of a stable, as meaningful to the purposes of God.

Have you viewed thankfulness as just a good idea instead of an act of warring worship? There is an oppressive spirit that seeks to blind us in our brokenness, blocking the pathway of wholeness and redemption. But Scripture tells us that expressing “unreasonable” thanksgiving is, in fact, the most reasonable thing we can do. This week, let’s be those who open our mouths and lift our hands. As we do, any garment of heaviness will become lighter in the light of Ultimate Truth (Isaiah 61:3).

You may be broken because of them, but they are blinded by their bondage. There’s a reason, after all, why Jesus taught us to pray, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” The one who gave his life for them (and us) promises that “love” and “prayer” can help set them free, delivering them (and us) from their terror.

Israel and the Middle East need our prayers. For the sake of the nations, let’s be people who embrace personal forgiveness so we can be conduits for the kingdom, stakeholders in God’s sovereign rule. We don’t need more empty words. We need heaven’s miraculous power. And Jesus tells us that we participate in God’s power, a power that joins heaven and earth, when we yield to the holy and transforming work of forgiveness.

When was the last time you just sat with God in silence? No words. No distractions. No noise. If we’re honest, we’ll admit that there are silent moments throughout our day, but we yield to the pressure and fill them with noise. Silence is a regular companion whose presence is often ignored. This week, ask the Spirit to show you such moments. It may feel awkward and unfamiliar at first but don’t shrink back. I promise that God will eventually meet you there.

Perhaps you’re struggling to see the light. Maybe all you see is failure, disappointment, and purposelessness. It’s in these moments that we’re called to do the brave work of repentance…

The disciples’ response to Jesus’s words was “increase our faith” (v. 5). This way of living seemed too great for them, and they realized that they needed faith beyond what they had known. Let’s be the ones who pray “increase our faith” this week, especially when searching to understand the difficulties within and without.

Who is getting your attention in the mornings? Are you scrolling social media and processing messages before even getting out of bed? This week, why not spend the first ten minutes of each day directing your affection to God? Your morning sacrifice will position you to see things you otherwise couldn’t see and follow the leading of the Spirit down the “straight path before” you.

Do you feel disoriented by trial or temptation? If we’re honest, we’ve all been there and are probably—in one way or another—there right now. My prayer for us this week is that we’d allow God to redeem the pain of the trial and reveal the true nature of whatever we’re facing . . . that we would be reoriented through prayer.

Have you been through a massive hurt or a collection of wounds that have left you wondering if you can heal again? The neuroscience is clear: you can’t change your life until you change your mind.

Are you in a season where you don’t have the words to pray? Maybe your words feel messy, irreverent, or inarticulate. You don’t need to go buy a shofar, but I do challenge you to release a cry, however broken it may sound. Whether it be a car, a room, a field, a closet, a forest . . . find a place to offer your holy exhale. For only those who breathe out can breathe in.

When Jesus told us to pray to the Father, he realized how difficult that would be for many of his brothers and sisters. What is difficult, though, is often what’s most meaningful, and Jesus was never one to back down from what is best.

But in a world where progress is defined by straight lines and checked boxes, corporate ladders and bar charts, what’s circular is often considered unsuccessful—a waste of time and energy.

Of course, we often prefer God’s nearness to be more tangible, especially in the face of trial. Yet within God’s redemptive design, we are made strong through weakness, perfect through imperfection, whole through brokenness, rooted through storms.

When we trust God with our future, God will open our hearts to whatever He’s asking us to do or what we need to learn or what we need to come to terms with here to get there.

You are here, so be here. Whatever that means for you. As you move from place to place this week, ask God to give you eyes to see the purpose, people, pain, and promise of each place.

While holding onto both mystery and certainty, I can promise that your words, groans, tears, and cries somehow participate in God’s plans for our world. So please. For the sake of both your family and this nation . . . pray.

Praying without ceasing is not a constant chore . . . it’s an invitation into a place of ongoing rest, a place where we recognize that the Lord is at hand, and we can and will face whatever lies before us.

My life is being transformed as I realize prayer isn’t just another “thing” to do; it’s the thing that brings everything that we do together—and I want to include you on this journey.