Morning Mercy Never Runs Dry

Well, unlatch that ol’ iron gate and come settle yourself right up here with me on this ol’ front porch, friend. I’ve got a chair waitin’ right here for you, the coffee’s good and hot, and a fat ol’ chipmunk by the woodpile over there is stuffin’ its breakfast in its cheeks like its believes winter starts next Tuesday. Life can leave us feelin’ about as wrung out as a dish rag after a church supper, but every sunrise brings one glorious reminder. God hasn’t run out of mercy.

Jeremiah sho’-nuff’ understood hard days. He wrote Lamentations while surrounded by grief, destruction, and disappointment. Yet right there among the ashes he plum remembered what suffering couldn’t destroy: “His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” (Lamentations 3:22–23).

That’s faith with some real deep roots on it.

God’s faithfulness don’t mean every prayer gets answered the way we planned. It plum means He remains God when our plans git to scatterin’ like lil’ ol’ chickens after somebody drops a washtub. Lookin’ backward often reveals what we couldn’t see while walkin’ forward. There were nights He carried us, doors He quietly closed, strength He supplied, and mercies we didn’t even recognize until years later.

That’s why Psalm 77:11–12 says, “I will remember the works of the Lord... I will meditate also of all thy work, and talk of thy doings.” Sometimes rememberin’ plum  becomes worship. Yesterday’s faithfulness downright gives courage for today’s uncertainty.

Every morning is God quietly saying, “I’m still here.”

Father, thank You for mercies that meet me fresh each morning. Help me remember Your faithfulness when today feels uncertain. Open my eyes to the ways You have carried, protected, corrected, and loved me. Give me confidence that the God who held me yesterday will still be holding me tomorrow. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Now grab your hat and git right to moseyin’ off right back into the rest of your day, friend. Don’t let today’s troubles puff themselves up like an ol’ bullfrog sittin’ beside a rain barrel. Turn around occasionally and notice the footprints of God’s faithfulness right there behind you. His mercy didn’t dry up overnight, and His compassion didn’t wander off into the woods. Keep walkin’ toward home because the God that brought you this far ain’t about to be losin’ the trail now.

With joy,

Gwen