We Google, we text, we ask a best friend,
And pray to the Lord when we reach the end.
But prayer should come first, not last on our list—
For he sees all the things our logic has missed.
He may not fix a flat, restoring tires to their round shape,
But he’ll help us think when we’re caught in a scrape.
He’ll guide us to helpers with patience and grace,
And teach us to smile through life’s crazy race.
The greatest of dangers, far worse than we’d think,
Is believing we know when we’ve been hoodwinked.
If Jesus sought help in his Father’s embrace,
How foolish are we to refuse that same grace?
Real help doesn’t do all your work in your stead,
It sharpens your tools and clears out your head.
It teaches. It trains. It makes you prepared,
So you can stand where you once despaired.
God’s help is a perfect fit, stitched for your soul,
Not Saul’s heavy armor that stifles your role.
But like David with stones and a sling in his hand,
God fits us for battles where he’s called us to stand.
