Prayer of the Day

Lord, You know where I work. You've seen the Sunday-night dread, the knot in my stomach in the parking lot, the deep breath I take before I badge in. I'm not coming to You with a polished prayer today. I'm coming tired.

You know the people who make it hard — the one who takes credit, the one who cuts others down, the one whose moods set the weather for the whole floor. I won't pretend I feel warmly toward them. But You told me to pray for them, so here it is: bless them, Lord. Work on whatever is broken in them that spills out onto the rest of us. And work on me too — because I know I am somebody else's difficult coworker some days.

Protect my heart in that building. Don't let the cynicism in the break room seep into me. Don't let me start giving less than my best just because the place deserves less. Keep my work honest and my mouth clean when the gossip comes around — let me be the one safe person to talk to, not another mouth in the mill.

Give me one ally there, Lord. Just one helps so much.

And give me wisdom about the bigger question — the one I turn over on the drive home: Do I stay, or do I go? If You want me here — as salt, as light, as the steady one in an unsteady place — then give me strength for one day at a time, and stamina for the long haul. But if this season is over, open another door and give me the courage to walk through it. Staying miserable is not the same as being faithful.

Until then, be my peace between nine and five. Meet me at my desk, on the floor, behind the counter. Eight hours is a long time, Lord — but not one minute of it is outside Your reach.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

Lord, be with me tonight.

The day took more than I expected, and I'm coming to You with what's left of me — which isn't much. You've never asked for more than that.

Whatever tonight holds — quiet or chaos, a full house or an empty one — be in it with me.

Guard my home while the lights go out. Guard the people I love, near and far, under whatever roof they're sleeping tonight.

Take tonight's worries — the ones about tomorrow, the ones about money, the ones about people — and hold them until morning. If they still matter then, we'll talk. Most of them won't.

Give me peace tonight, Lord. Not because everything is settled, but because You are here, and You are good, and You'll still be both when the sun comes up.

In Jesus' name, Amen.