The Devil is a Lie AND He Wears Cardamom

Porch Prayer ~ August 21, 2025

For the Ones Barely Hanging On

Lord Jesus,

You say the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective (James 5:16), so I’m coming to You with everything I’ve got — even if all I have right now is breath in my lungs and tears in my eyes.

I lift up the ones who are barely hanging on. The ones flat on their back in the heat of it all — physical heat, emotional heat, spiritual heat. You see them. You love them. And You’re still the God who breathes life into dry bones (Ezekiel 37). You’re the One who revives, restores, and rescues when we’ve got nothing left to give.

You said if we have faith the size of a mustard seed, we could move mountains (Matthew 17:20). So here’s my mustard seed, Lord. Here's my little flicker of hope, shaking hands and all. Multiply it. Meet me in it. You don’t need a flood — sometimes You work through a drip. And if that’s all I’ve got, then I trust You to make it enough.

Your Word says You are “close to the brokenhearted and save those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). So be close now. Speak peace into the places where fear has taken root. Turn our mourning into dancing. And give us eyes to see that You're still moving — even when all we can do is whisper Your name.

Thank You for showing up in the waiting. Thank You for not giving up on the ones who feel forgotten — even the four-legged ones we love so much. You are faithful. And I trust You with it all.

In Jesus’ mighty name,
Amen.

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Porch Prayer ~ October 20, 2025

The God Who Finishes What He Starts

Father,
Thank You for the way You made me — for the mix of awkward wings, steady feet, and relentless heart You stitched together on purpose. You knew I’d need all three to keep moving when the ground turned uneven.

You knew I’d need a little stubbornness, a little tenacity, and a lot of grace.

Thank You for teaching me that the climb isn’t punishment — it’s training.
That the hard places are where You shape sure footing and teach my spirit to trust You, even when I can’t see where the path goes next.

Thank You for giving me eyes that are learning to look up, not around.
For helping me see past what’s loud and temporary to what You’re really doing beneath it.

When everything feels distorted or uncertain, You steady my gaze.
You remind me that peace doesn’t come from the view — it comes from the One I’m looking toward.

And Lord, thank You for the way You work in patterns.
You are the God of abundance — You never just do one thing.
You multiply. You restore. You touch generations when I can only see the moment in front of me.

You finish what You start, and You’re always doing more than I understand.

So today I lift my eyes again.
I trust that You’re working in ways I can’t yet see.
Give me the heart to keep climbing, the faith to keep looking up, and the patience to wait for the day You let me look back and see how it all fits together.