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Ancient of Days

I am not my own

- not the author of my life, not the captain of my destiny -

as 2020 has made painfully obvious.

And so I renounce all claim to my own life and desires.

I belong to you; I am yours alone, O Lord.


And my prayer, chastened by this previous year, is simple:

Lead me by your mercy through this gift of time.


Waste not a moment in the days of this year, Lord.

Let all that happens be as tools in your hands,

To shape me and make me more truly your own

More fitly a child of hope

Of the restoration of all things in Christ.


May all of the days of this year,

the ordinary, small, dull, the aching and bruised,

and those brimming over with goodness and grace,

be a part of the story your grace is writing in my life.

Shape my vision and school me by your Holy Spirit

So I might learn your story and see my place in it,

So all my days might bless, offer hope and extend love,

My life a fit home for the indwelling of Jesus.

May all my labours, leisure, and rest,

My hopes, dreams and plans,

The joys and griefs, the gifts and imperfections,

Express the love you have ordained me to.

Let all that is done this year

Be a foretaste of greater glories to come.


Nothing is too hard for you, Lord Jesus.

And so I place all confidence in you,

that whatever these coming days bring,

I am kept and sheltered in your care,

and that in all things your grace will sustain me,

My rock and my Redeemer.

Spirit of God,

Take these 365 calendar squares of unmarked living

Brood over the yet-to-be formlessness of this coming year

Call out from it light, life, glory and delight

All to your praise.