The Prayer Porch

Author: The Prayer Porch

  • The Internet: The Most Transformative Invention of Our Time

    Daily writing prompt
    The most important invention in your lifetime is…
    View all responses

    The most important invention in my lifetime may not be something we hold in our hands, but something we live inside of every day: the internet.

    It has changed how we learn, how we communicate, how we work, and how we tell our stories. With a few keystrokes, we can access information that once required libraries, time, and travel. We can stay connected to loved ones across distance and share moments that might otherwise be missed.

    And yet, this invention is not without its weight.

    The internet brings voices closer, but it can also amplify noise. It offers connection, yet sometimes leaves us feeling more isolated. It gives us answers quickly, while quietly challenging our ability to wait, wonder, and sit with what we do not know.

    How are we being shaped by what we consume so easily?

    The internet itself is not good or bad – it is powerful. And power, like all gifts, requires wisdom. We are called to use it in ways that reflect love, truth, and presence, rather than fear or division.

    Perhaps the invitation is not to step away entirely, but to step back occasionally – to choose intention over impulse, listening over reacting, and depth over speed.

    Even in a world that moves quickly, God still speaks softly.

    God of wisdom,
    Thank You for the tools that connect us and expand our understanding.
    Help us use them with care, humility, and love.

    Teach us when to engage and when to rest,
    when to listen and when to be still.
    Guard our hearts from distraction and division,
    and anchor us in what is true and life-giving.

    May we remain present to You and to one another,
    even in a digital world.
    Amen.

  • The Importance of Compassion in Times of Crisis

    The Importance of Compassion in Times of Crisis

    There are moments in history when the weight of the world feels especially heavy. When laws, power, and human suffering collide, and many hearts are left grieving, confused, or afraid. We are living in one of those moments.

    As Christians, we do not begin with politics.
    We begin with people.

    Scripture tells us, again and again, that God sees the stranger. The sojourner. The one without protection. The one far from home. These are not abstract ideas in the Bible. They are beloved neighbors whom God names and defends.

    To follow Jesus is to hold both truth and mercy in our hands at the same time. It is to acknowledge that nations have laws, while also insisting that no law has the right to strip a person of their God-given dignity. The Gospel never gives us permission to harden our hearts in the name of order.

    Jesus Himself was once a child whose family fled violence. A refugee, carried by His parents into a foreign land for safety. He knows what it is to be vulnerable. He knows what it is to depend on the mercy of others.

    In seasons like this, many are waiting –
    waiting for justice,
    waiting for compassion,
    waiting for policies shaped by wisdom rather than fear.

    Waiting is painful. It stretches us. It exposes our limits. And yet Scripture reminds us that waiting with God is not passive. It is an act of trust. It is a refusal to give up on love.

    Lament has a place here. We are allowed to grieve what is happening. We are allowed to say, This is not right. We are allowed to cry out to God on behalf of children, families, and communities living in uncertainty.

    And still, we stay rooted in hope.

    The Christian calling is not to win arguments, but to witness to a different way – a way where mercy has the final word, where fear does not rule our decisions, and where love remains active even when the road forward feels unclear.

    From this porch, we pray.
    We listen.
    We refuse to look away.

    And we trust that God is still at work, even in the waiting.

    “The Lord watches over the foreigner and sustains the fatherless and the widow.”
    Psalm 146:9

    God of mercy and justice,
    We bring before You all who are living in uncertainty
    those far from home, those seeking safety,
    and those carrying fear, grief, or exhaustion in this season.

    Teach us to see every person as You see them:
    beloved, worthy, and made in Your image.
    Guard our hearts from indifference,
    and shape our actions with compassion, wisdom, and humility.

    As we wait – for healing, for justice, for paths forward
    help us remain rooted in love rather than fear.
    May Your presence be near to the vulnerable,
    and may we be faithful in how we love our neighbors.

    We place our trust in You,
    who watches, sustains, and never looks away.
    Amen.

  • The Power of Lament: Finding Faith in Grief

    The Power of Lament: Finding Faith in Grief

    There are seasons when words feel insufficient.
    When the weight of the world feels heavier than usual.
    When grief is not only personal, but collective.

    In moments like these, Scripture gives us a language we often forget: lament.

    Lament is not a lack of faith.
    It is faith that refuses to look away.

    Throughout the Bible, God’s people cry out in confusion, sorrow, anger, and longing. The Psalms are filled with honest prayers that do not rush toward resolution. They name pain plainly. They ask hard questions. They sit with God in the tension of not yet.

    Lament allows us to say:
    This hurts.
    This is not how it should be.
    Lord, how long?

    And still – You are my God.

    Waiting often accompanies lament. Waiting for justice. Waiting for healing. Waiting for clarity. Waiting for peace to return to our hearts or to our communities. Waiting is hard because it asks us to live in uncertainty, without quick answers or tidy endings.

    But waiting with God is different than waiting alone.

    In lament, we do not abandon hope – we anchor it. We bring our grief into God’s presence instead of carrying it in isolation. We trust that He sees what we see, and more. That He hears what feels unspeakable. That He remains near even when circumstances feel unbearably heavy.

    Lament creates space for grief without surrendering faith.
    It teaches us that God can hold our sorrow and our hope at the same time.

    If you are grieving – personally or collectively – know this:
    God does not ask you to rush past your pain.
    He invites you to bring it to Him.

    And in the waiting, He remains faithful.

    “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;
    He rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”
    Psalm 34:18 (NLT)

    Lord,
    We come to You with heavy hearts,
    carrying grief we do not always have words for.

    Teach us how to lament without fear,
    to wait without losing hope,
    and to trust You even when answers feel far away.

    Meet us in our sorrow.
    Hold us steady in the waiting.
    Remind us that You are near to the brokenhearted
    and faithful in every season.

    We place our grief before You,
    and we wait,
    not alone, but with You.
    Amen.

  • Embracing Christ’s Everlasting Love

    Embracing Christ’s Everlasting Love

    February is often wrapped in the language of romance – cards, flowers, and gestures meant to express love. While those things can be meaningful, they also come and go quickly. They can fall short, change, or fade.

    The love we truly long for – the love that steadies us, restores us, and holds us when life feels uncertain is not fragile. It is not conditional. It does not disappear when we are tired, imperfect, or struggling.

    The Gospel reminds us that the greatest love has already been given.

    Jesus did not love us from a distance. He stepped into our brokenness, our doubts, our mess, and our humanity. He loved with compassion that healed, with patience that taught, and with sacrifice that changed everything. His love was not just spoken. It was lived, embodied, and ultimately poured out on the cross.

    Scripture tells us that there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for another. Jesus did exactly that -not because we earned it, but because love is who He is.

    This kind of love meets us where we are.
    It does not ask us to be perfect before we are welcomed.
    It does not leave when things become hard.

    In a world that often equates love with feelings or performance, Jesus shows us a deeper truth: love is faithful presence. Love is mercy. Love is self-giving.

    As we move through this month, may we pause and remember that we are already fully known and deeply loved. And from that place – secure in Christ’s love – we are invited to love others with the same grace we have received.

    “For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.”
    John 3:16

    Jesus,
    Thank You for loving us with a love that does not waver or fail.
    When the world teaches us to measure love by what we receive or achieve,
    remind us that true love was already given – freely, fully, and without condition.

    Help us rest in Your presence when we feel unseen or unworthy.
    Teach us to recognize Your love not only in moments of joy,
    but also in the quiet, ordinary places of our lives.

    As we move through this season,
    shape our hearts to reflect Yours –
    patient, compassionate, and willing to love as You have loved us.

    May we live from the security of being deeply known and deeply loved by You.
    Amen.

  • Restorative Leisure Activities: Knitting to Snowshoeing

    Restorative Leisure Activities: Knitting to Snowshoeing

    Daily writing prompt
    What do you enjoy doing most in your leisure time?
    View all responses

    In my leisure time, I love working with my hands – knitting (currently working on a Susan B. Anderson bird pattern), crocheting (still working on a Tree of Life afghan), and needlepoint. Have you seen Jennifer Vallez needlepoint ? I am working on Dorothy! There’s something calming about the repetition, about watching something slowly take shape one stitch at a time. I also enjoy reading, especially when I can settle in and let the world quiet around me.

    Lately, I’ve been spending more time outside with my dog Kane. With the snow on the ground, it’s perfect snowshoe weather. The cold air, the crunch underfoot, and the stillness feel refreshing and grounding. These moments remind me how restorative simple pleasures can be.

  • Finding Renewal Through God’s Mercy

    Finding Renewal Through God’s Mercy

    “Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.” — Psalm 51:7

    Today, snow is falling across the country. It covers what is worn, stained, and uneven. Roads are quiet. Edges soften. What was harsh only moments before is muted beneath a clean, white blanket.

    David’s prayer in Psalm 51 comes from a place of deep awareness of failure, regret, and the longing to be made new. He does not ask to be excused or explained away. He asks to be washed. To be cleansed. To be restored from the inside out.

    Snow does not erase what lies beneath it, but it changes how we see the landscape. In the same way, God’s mercy does not deny the truth of our brokenness – it covers us with grace that invites healing and renewal. What feels heavy, marked, or beyond repair is not beyond God’s ability to make clean.

    On days like today, when the world feels strained and hearts feel weary, this verse offers a quiet hope. Not the kind that shouts or rushes ahead, but the kind that falls gently, snowflake by snowflake, reminding us that God is still at work, still cleansing, still making all things new.

    Perhaps today’s snowfall is not an answer, but an invitation. To pause. To breathe. To trust that even now, God’s mercy is falling – silently, steadily over us and this land.

    Lord,
    As snow falls quietly today, we ask that Your mercy would fall just as gently upon us.
    Wash our hearts, restore what feels worn, and make us new again.

    Help us to trust in Your cleansing grace and to rest in the hope that You are still at work.
    Amen.

  • Understanding True Leadership Beyond Power

    Daily writing prompt
    What makes a good leader?
    View all responses

    A good leader is not defined by position, power, or the loudness of their voice. True leadership is revealed in humility, integrity, and the willingness to serve rather than be served.

    Good leaders listen before they speak. They make room for others, especially those who feel unseen or unheard. They lead with discernment, not impulse, and with compassion, not control. A good leader is steady and able to hold responsibility without losing their humanity.

    In Scripture, we see leadership modeled not through domination, but through faithfulness. Jesus washed feet. He noticed the overlooked. He led with truth and love intertwined, never sacrificing one for the other. His leadership restored dignity and invited transformation.

    A good leader is also willing to be corrected. They understand they are accountable to God, to others, and to the impact of their decisions. They lead not to elevate themselves, but to protect, guide, and uplift those entrusted to their care.

    Perhaps the better question is not who leads well, but how are we leading in the spaces we inhabit in our homes, communities, workplaces, and quiet daily interactions.

    Leadership begins not with authority, but with the posture of the heart.

  • Understanding Biblical Fasting: A Heartfelt Approach

    Understanding Biblical Fasting: A Heartfelt Approach

    Fasting can feel intimidating at first. Many of us associate it with rules, restriction, or spiritual pressure. Yet in Scripture, fasting is less about what we give up and more about what we make room for.

    Biblical fasting is an invitation to pause. To step back from what normally sustains or distracts us, and to lean more fully into God. It is a way of saying, “Lord, I want You more than anything else.”

    Throughout the Bible, people fasted when they were seeking clarity, repentance, strength, or direction. Esther called for a fast before stepping into an uncertain and courageous moment. David fasted in humility and surrender. The early church fasted together as they sought God’s guidance for what was next. Again and again, fasting was paired with prayer not to earn God’s favor, but to listen more closely.

    Jesus Himself reminds us that fasting is not meant to be performative. It is a quiet, inward posture of the heart. A practice rooted in humility, trust, and dependence. God is far more concerned with what fasting produces within us than with the outward act itself.

    The prophet Isaiah also reminds us that true fasting reshapes how we live. It softens our hearts, draws us toward compassion, and invites us to love others more faithfully. Fasting that pleases God leads to greater mercy, justice, and care for those around us.

    Fasting is not presented as an obligation, but as an offering. You may choose to fast from food, from noise, from busyness, social media or from anything that competes for your attention. What matters most is the intention to create space for God to speak and for our hearts to respond.

    As you consider prayer and fasting, remember this: God meets us gently. There is no comparison, no hierarchy, and no pressure to do it “perfectly.” There is only an open invitation to draw near.

    Lord,
    As we set aside our normal routines, we ask that You draw us closer to You.
    Quiet our hearts and clear our minds so we can truly hear Your voice.

    Teach us how to pray and how to fast in ways that honor You.
    Help us to release what distracts us and to hold more tightly to what matters most.

    We trust that You will meet us here and guide us each step of the way.
    Amen.

  • Quiet Moments of Grief: Finding Guidance in Dreams

    Quiet Moments of Grief: Finding Guidance in Dreams

    I had a dream about a friend who passed away not long ago. In the dream, he was fixing a light fixture – focused, steady, doing something ordinary and familiar. It was the same kind of task I had been wrestling with just days before. Small. Practical. Unremarkable to most.

    His former wife sat with their children, the television on, life moving as it does. He tried to speak to them, pointing toward the light, explaining something simple and important – but they weren’t listening. I stood nearby, not intervening, just watching. Witnessing.

    There was no urgency in the dream. No fear. Just a quiet ache.

    Light has always carried meaning. It shows us where we are. It helps us see clearly. It makes a home feel warm and livable. Watching him tend to the light felt like watching someone do what they had always done – care in quiet ways, serve without spectacle, offer guidance without demanding attention.

    Some people love loudly. Others love faithfully. This friend loved the Lord, and he lived that love not through grand gestures, but through steady presence and care for the everyday things. Fixing the light feels like that kind of faith – humble, unnoticed, enduring.

    Maybe the dream wasn’t about being heard.
    Maybe it was about being remembered.
    Or maybe it was simply my heart holding onto someone who mattered.

    We allow these moments to rest as they are. We don’t rush to label them or assign meaning too quickly. We let memory, love, and grief sit together – quietly, honestly.

    Some lights don’t go out when a person leaves.
    They linger in the way we notice, the way we pause, the way we remember how to care.

    Who has helped bring light into your life in quiet, faithful ways and how might their presence still be guiding you?

    Loving God,
    thank You for the lives that continue to shape us even after they are gone.
    For the quiet ways they brought light, steadiness, and care into our world.
    Help us carry their goodness forward tending to the small things with love,
    and trusting that no light given in faith is ever truly lost.

    Amen. 🤍

  • Finding Clarity in Uncertainty: A Gentle Approach

    Finding Clarity in Uncertainty: A Gentle Approach

    There are seasons when we find ourselves standing between choices, unsure which way to move. The path ahead feels unclear, and every option seems to carry both hope and hesitation. In those moments, the question often isn’t what should I do? but how do I decide?

    So many of us are conditioned to move quickly – to analyze, explain, justify, and arrive at certainty. But discernment rarely thrives in urgency. Wisdom tends to surface in quieter spaces.

    When I’m undecided, I return to stillness. I pause. I listen. Some call this prayer. Others call it meditation, reflection, or simply paying attention. Whatever the language, the practice is the same: creating space for clarity to emerge rather than forcing an answer.

    Instead of asking for immediate direction, I try asking gentler questions:

    What choice brings peace rather than pressure?
    Where does my body soften instead of tighten?
    What aligns with compassion, integrity, and care for others?

    Clarity doesn’t always arrive as a clear instruction. Sometimes it comes as a closed door. Sometimes as a subtle nudge that won’t go away. And sometimes it comes as a quiet reassurance that says, you don’t have to know everything yet.

    We remember that uncertainty is not a weakness. It is an invitation to slow down, to trust the unfolding, and to believe that wisdom often reveals itself one step at a time.

    What might change if you allowed yourself to pause and listen – rather than rush toward certainty?

    (For those who find comfort and guidance in Scripture)

    • James 1:5
      “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault.”
    • Proverbs 3:5–6
      “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding and He will make your paths straight.”
    • Psalm 32:8
      “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.”
    • Isaiah 30:21
      “This is the way; walk in it.”
    • Colossians 3:15
      “Let peace rule in your hearts.”
    • Psalm 25:4–5
      “Show me your ways – guide me in your truth.”

    Source of wisdom, however we understand You,
    meet us in moments of uncertainty.
    Quiet the noise that pushes us to rush
    and help us listen for what is steady, true, and life-giving.

    Guide our steps with compassion.
    Let peace be a trusted companion.
    And grant us the patience to trust that clarity will come
    in its own time, in its own way.

    Amen. 🤍