Prayer of the Day

Father, You promised that if anyone lacks wisdom, they may simply ask, and You will give it — generously, and without scolding.

So I am asking.

Give me wisdom for today's choices, the big one on my mind and the small ones I won't see coming. Help me know what matters from what merely shouts.

Make me quick to listen and slow to speak. Keep me teachable when I would rather be right.

And when I know the wise thing, give me the backbone to actually do it.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

Lord, it's late, and I'm still awake.

I've counted, breathed, flipped the pillow to the cool side. Sleep isn't coming, and lying here fighting for it is only pushing it further away. So instead of fighting, I'm going to talk to You.

You know why I'm awake. Maybe it's the coffee. Maybe it's the worry. Maybe it's nothing I can name — just a body that won't power down and a mind still pacing the halls.

Whatever it is, I'm through pretending I can fix it by trying harder. Sleep is a gift, not a wage. I can't earn it. I can only receive it. So I open my hands here in the dark.

While I wait, I'll use the quiet. Thank You for this bed. Someone tonight has none. Thank You for this roof, this blanket, this breath. Thank You that the night is not empty — You are in it, wide awake, keeping watch over everyone I love.

I pray for the others awake right now: the new parents, the night-shift workers, the worriers like me, the ones in hospital beds watching the same slow clock. Be near to every one of them.

If sleep comes, thank You — I'll take it gladly. If it doesn't, then stay with me through these strange small hours, and give me grace for tomorrow anyway. You've stretched thin nights over thin days before and somehow made them hold.

Either way, I am not alone in this dark room. That is enough to rest on, even with my eyes open.

In Jesus' name, Amen.