A Morning Prayer

O satisfy us early with thy mercy; that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
— Psalm 90:14

Morning doesn't wait to be invited. It comes on whether we've made our peace with the day or not — the light easing up at the window the same as it did yesterday, asking nothing of us but that we crack our eyes open and let it in. And there's a small slice of it — before the coffee's even poured, before the day gets ahold of us and starts pulling at our sleeve — that belongs to nobody but the Lord. The older I get, the more I think that little while is the whole point. It's enough just to start there, with him, before anything else gets a word in.

Lord, satisfy me early with your mercy.
Before this day asks one thing of me, let me ask this of you — meet me here, in the first quiet, and steady me for whatever's coming.
I don't know what these hours hold. You do.
Go on ahead of me into them.
And if I can't find the gladness on my own, then give it to me as a gift — not because the day's easy, but because you're good, and you're near, and you've promised to be both.
Amen.

Now, not every morning comes easy, and there's no use saying otherwise. Some of us wake already tired, already braced, the whole weight of the day sitting on us before our feet even hit the floor. But the verse is particular about it. It doesn't say satisfy us once we feel like rejoicing. It says satisfy us early — out ahead of the gladness, before there's a scrap of it to be found — so the mercy comes first and the joy straggles along behind. That's the order of the thing. And the mercy doesn't sit around waiting for us to be ready, thank goodness, because some mornings we never would be.

Say it as your own — that's what it's for. And if this is how you'd like to begin your mornings, Ruby writes a short devotional every day in the same spirit: a verse, and a few plain words to carry into the day. You can subscribe — it's free, or stay a while and read more of her writing.