How can you be so patient, God, when we are so set in our ways? You’ve told us over and over what things are sin but we do them anyway. It doesn’t even occur to us that we are hurting you, our Father, and shaming you. It doesn’t even occur to us that Satan is laughing the whole time because we have believed his lies instead of your truths. Though you agonize for us, you love us still. I cannot begin to comprehend such patient love.

Thank you, Lord, for a warm house on these cold days, bright lamps on these dark days, colorful furniture on these bleak days, food on these barren days. Thank you for rescuing me from illnesses, moodiness, danger on the street and icy paths. Thank you for allowing me to stop and rest sometimes and holding my spirit in your strong, yet, gentle arms until my soul sees the sunrise.

I praise and adore you, God of the universe, for all you do is right and good and just. At the same time, I tremble before your anger when I do wrong, realizing I am doing something that is hurting myself and you are trying to stop me.  I do not and cannot fully understand you, even though you revealed what I can understand in your Word.  I know you are perfect and cannot co-exist with the imperfect. Yet, you love me anyway and continually run after me when I sin, calling for me to stop, turn around, and return to you. You never give up on me. Through everything that life holds, you are my God and I worship you.

Once again, Lord, it is Sunday morning and the sun is just starting to rise as Jesus did when he returned to his body that morning so long ago. It proved who he was and proved his promise would come true that all Christians: When we close our eyes and die here on earth, we will open our eyes and step into true life in heaven. How wonderful! How glorious! How amazing. How can I thank you? I do not deserve it. But you love me even more than I love myself. I do not understand such love but I bow before you in gratitude.

Lord God, I praise you for the pattern you have set in motion here on earth.  The pattern of birth, life, and death. The pattern of planting, growing, and harvesting. Millenniums ago you set the cycle in motion by putting people on earth. We have been good sometimes and bad sometimes but never perfect.  As for me, I was born, grew up, and now I await my own harvest. When will harvest be when the world ends? I long for harvest time. Then I will be able to praise you day and night without interruptions from Satan and his emissaries.  Then it will be sunset on earth forever and sunrise in heaven for all eternity. Oh, glorious day.

This morning the sun is rising a little later as winter nears. The sky is all reds and yellows. There are dark clouds behind it. That’s okay. I shall prepare for the storms coming behind the sunrise. I will turn on all the lights so that “sunshine” is within. Then, when insults come, I shall smile. When delays come, I shall smile. When accidents come, I shall smile. No matter what, I know ~ because of your promises ~ that the storm will be followed by a rainbow. And that will be your smile. Thank you.

You are the God of my heart, my life, my soul.  I long to be with you someday. I have praised you in the past, I praise you now, I will praise you in the future and as long as forever lasts. You are the originator of all things and all movement. You set the stars in motion and they have never stopped their movement for all these thousands of years. You are the First Cause of all that is good and right. You have made me in your image so I can have a sense of goodness and right ~ a sense of conscience ~ in my thinking and behavior.  I stand in awe of you.

Thank you, Lord, for interruptions in my life. Sometimes people have to get loud and make me stop what I am doing so I will pay attention to them. I get so absorbed in what I am doing day to day, I forget the rest of the world other than a casual hello or goodbye. Keep doing it, Lord.  Keep sending people to my door to my phone to my email intent on interrupting me. Thank you for sudden changes. They certainly do make life interesting, and you, God, are always interesting. Thank you.

I adore you, Lord God. You have been so good for so long always working to save us from hell. So many do not believe they are bound for hell so insult you by never reading your love letter to the world ~ your Bible ~ and never praying unless they need something. Sill, amidst all this, you keep trying to save the world. You want everyone to be your child. You are bigger than the universe that you made, but it is tiny humans that capture your heart. You run after us every which way calling, “Come back! You’re headed for danger! I can protect you!” Ah, my Lord God, how you love us. I love you too, Lord. I wish I could love as much as you do. In my frail way, I worship you.

My vegetable garden has been harvested and I have cleared out all that was left behind. And I brought in more fertilizer to give my little seeds a head start next spring. Thank you for allowing me to create with you. I love watching the little green sprigs force their way to the surface and peak at the sun. I often feel like I am forcing my way up through the darkness of this world and trying to take a peak of heaven. Someday it will happen and the experience will be beautiful.

I praise and adore you, God. You are perfect and are willing to see me as perfect even when I am not. I try to be like you but fail in some way every day. You love me in my imperfection. Your love wins over Satan’s hatred. Your forgiveness wins over Satan’s accusations.  Your mercy wins over Satan’s judgments. I often wonder how you can do it ~ always be forgiving me. Sometimes I am embarrassed to, once again, ask for your forgiveness.  Yet, you are delighted to forgive. You are the God of second chances. And third. And scores. And hundreds. Such patience and love I cannot even begin to comprehend. So, I worship you.

It will be Sunday again soon.  Oh, how I will sing out my praises to you!  They will soar to the clouds and beyond, echo from star to star, and surround your throne. My song will not be harmonious and lovely or lyrical, but it will be my song and it will be for the God I love. Accept my praise, my song, the offering of my lips.

Lord God of hosts, you sing with the stars and dance with comets. When you weep, the oceans fill, deep and sad.  You step down to the moon, then onto the meadows of earth.  When you laugh, the mountains shake with gaiety and laugh with you. At the end of the day, you ride the sun back to your home and sit on your throne, contented to have walked with your children once again for a little while.

God, I thank you for slowing down due to occasional physical problems. I have some new equipment so I can make some things with it while I rest. But mostly I thank you for heaven. This is not my home. Just as my heart bowed at the foot of your cross those years ago, I long to be at the foot of your throne so I can bow to you there. I will weep tears of happiness and I will sing the song of victory in Jesus.