Dear Lord,
I worship Your name, Lord, for the boundless ocean of Your mercy that washes over me anew each dawn, and for the profound, undeserved forgiveness that greets me even before my feet touch the floor.
It’s a forgiveness that doesn’t just wipe the slate clean from yesterday’s blunders – the impatient word I snapped at a loved one, the task I procrastinated on, the moment I chose distraction over seeking You – but anticipates the stumbles I haven’t even made yet today.
Thank You for always being so overwhelmingly, consistently good to me, even when my circumstances feel chaotic or my heart is heavy with concerns that I struggle to articulate even to You.
Thank You for the gift of righteousness, a cloak I could never weave for myself, yet You bestow it freely, not as a reward for good behavior, but as a pure, unadulterated gift.
I confess, Lord, that I would not, could not, be able to come boldly to You, to even lift my eyes to Your holiness, by my own failed human nature and persistent weakness.
My spirit is often willing, eager even, but my flesh, oh, it is so very weak.
One moment I feel strong in resolve, determined to reflect Your love, and the next, I’m tripped by an old habit, a sharp thought of judgment towards another, a selfish desire that muscles its way to the front of my mind, or simply the weariness that makes even small acts of kindness feel like climbing a mountain.
I see the path You light, but my feet so often stray towards the shadows of my own making, towards the comfortable, the easy, or the immediately gratifying.
However, it is through Your astounding grace, manifested in the ultimate sacrifice of Your beloved Son, Jesus, that everything changes.
You didn’t just overlook my sin; You dealt with it definitively.
Through His precious blood, You made me a saint – not because I am inherently saintly, far from it, but because You declared me so, clothing me in His perfection.
This isn’t a title I could ever earn or polish; it’s a new identity, a clean slate, gifted to me, making me free from the crushing weight of guilt that used to follow me like a shadow, and liberated from the pervasive shame that whispered I was not enough, would never be enough.
Now, when the accuser tries to point out my flaws, my shortcomings, my repeated failures, I can stand firm, not in my own defense, but in the defense You have already provided.
Your eternal word, Lord, is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path, and it speaks so clearly of this incredible exchange in Romans 4:
“But to the one who does not work, but believes in Him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is credited as righteousness,
Romans 4:5-8, 23-25
Just as David also speaks of the blessing of the person to whom God credits righteousness apart from works:
‘Blessed are those whose lawless deeds have been forgiven, And whose sins have been covered.
Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord will not take into account.’ Therefore it was also credited to him as righteousness.
Now not for his sake only was it written that it was credited to him, but for our sake also, to whom it will be credited,
To us who believe in Him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead,
He who was delivered over because of our wrongdoings, and was raised because of our justification.”
Father, these words are not just ancient text; they are my daily reality, my very lifeline.
To believe in Him who justifies the ungodly – that’s me, Lord, before Your intervention.
That’s every single one of us.
And this righteousness is credited, like a divine deposit into an account that was hopelessly overdrawn.
It’s a blessing David sang about, this profound relief of having lawless deeds forgiven, sins completely covered, not just swept under a rug but obliterated, and the incredible peace of knowing that You, the Holy Judge, will not take my sin into account.
This isn’t just about Abraham or David; it was written for my sake, for our sake, for all of us who place our trust in You, the One who demonstrated ultimate power and love by raising Jesus our Lord from the dead – He who bore the penalty of my wrongdoings, the sharp words, the selfish motives, the anxieties I let overshadow Your promises, and was gloriously raised because my justification, my being made right with You, was fully and eternally accomplished.
Father, although I sometimes experience setbacks – those days when the clouds of doubt roll in unexpectedly, when weariness settles deep in my bones making even prayer feel like a chore, when the echoes of past failures try to shout louder than Your promises, or when the mundane pressures of work deadlines, family needs, unexpected bills, and the endless to-do list seem to eclipse Your presence and drain my spiritual vitality – I still believe in Your saving grace.
Lord, these setbacks often wear subtle disguises. Sometimes it’s the creeping numbness that settles over my spirit after a week of relentless demands, where my quiet time with You feels more like a checkbox than a sacred meeting.
Other times, it’s the sharp sting of comparison when I scroll through the curated lives of others, a habit I know is fruitless, yet one that my insecure heart gravitates towards, leaving me feeling less than, and momentarily forgetting the unique, immeasurable worth You have bestowed upon me.
It’s the frustration that boils over when my well-laid plans are derailed by unforeseen circumstances – a sick child, a demanding colleague, a sudden financial strain – and in that moment, my first instinct is to clench my fists in self-reliance rather than open my hands in surrender to Your sovereign will.
I confess the internal arguments I have with myself, wrestling with Your commands to love those who are difficult, to forgive when the wound is still raw, or to give generously when my own resources feel scarce.
My human logic often wars against Your divine wisdom, and I find myself building walls of justification for my own shortcomings.
And then there’s the insidious whisper of the enemy, always ready to exploit these moments of weakness, to magnify my failures, to suggest that Your grace might have its limits, or that I’ve strayed too far this time to be welcomed back into Your immediate, loving embrace.
He tries to paint Your face with a frown, to make Your silence feel like disapproval, when I know Your Word declares Your unfailing love and Your arms are always open.
Lord, it’s in these very human, very messy moments that the truth of Your imputed righteousness feels both most astonishing and most necessary.
It’s the truth that shatters my pride and lifts me from despair, reminding me that my standing before You is not based on my fluctuating performance but on Christ’s perfect, unwavering obedience; it’s the assurance that my access to You isn’t dependent on how “good” I’ve been today, but on His finished work, a truth that allows me to breathe deeply and come to You without pretense, knowing I am wholly and completely accepted, not because of what I do, but because of who You are and who I am in Him.
I believe it is more powerful than my strongest temptation, deeper than my deepest fear, and more constant than my most fickle emotions.
Please, Lord, help me to actively, consciously cling to Your mercy and Your unfailing lovingkindness every single moment of every single day.
When I wake with apprehension about what the day holds, let Your mercy be my first thought.
When I interact with difficult people or face frustrating situations, let Your lovingkindness shape my responses.
When I falter and sin, let the knowledge of Your forgiveness draw me quickly back to You, not in shame, but in gratitude.
Help me to remember it when I’m tempted to despair over a mistake, or when anxiety about the future tries to steal my peace.
Let Your lovingkindness be the very air I breathe, the strength in my weary limbs, the song in my heart when the world offers only noise and confusion.
I know, with a certainty that transcends my feelings, that these twin pillars of Your character – Your mercy and Your lovingkindness – are what will sustain me, carry me, and guide me safely through all the trials and triumphs of this life, until the very end, until I see You face to face.
In Jesus’ precious and powerful name, I pray.
Amen.
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