For When It All Feels Pointless

A Prayer Inspired by Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12–14; 2:18–23

There are days when everything feels heavy.
Today is one of them.

I didn’t sleep much last night,
My autoimmune pain kept me awake,
My knees are screaming,
And my head feels like it’s packed with fog.
Add to that the ache of missing Micah after moving him into college,
And the full-day of meetings waiting for me, and honestly,
I’m worn down before the day even begins.

Yesterday, while Stacy and I were moving Micah into his dorm at IU,
My inbox kept multiplying.
By the time the day ended,
Way too many emails were waiting for me,
Questions, needs, frustrations, expectations.

People upset that I hadn’t responded.
People disappointed that I wasn’t available.
And today, those emails still sit there, multiplied by more,
Alongside the meetings and the constant pressure to keep up.

I can’t catch up.
I can’t be everywhere at once.
I will always disappoint someone.
And honestly, it feels pointless.

But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe Ecclesiastes has it right:
All our striving to control the outcomes, to prove ourselves, to please everyone,
It’s like chasing smoke.
We never grab hold of it.
We just exhaust ourselves.

Maybe the wisdom isn’t found in doing more, but in learning to let go.
Maybe the gift is found in accepting my limits, trusting that God is already present in the fog, and remembering that being beloved has nothing to do with keeping up.

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For When It All Feels Pointless

A Prayer Inspired by Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12–14; 2:18–23

God of Love,
I come to You today tired.
Not just sleepy-tired,
But soul-weary.

I’m tired of spinning my wheels.
Tired of inboxes that never empty,
Of expectations I can’t meet,
Of the shame that whispers, “You’re not enough.”

I feel the pointlessness of it all,
And it weighs heavy on me.

I confess, so much of what I do feels like smoke.
My work piles up and scatters.
My body betrays me with pain and weakness.
My heart aches with absence.
And I wonder if any of it makes a difference.

But maybe this is where You meet me.
Not in the illusion of control,
But in the truth of my limits.
Not in my endless productivity,
But in the grace of simply being.

You remind me:
It is not my job to hold the world together.
It is not my job to extract meaning from the meaningless.
It is my job to show up,
To breathe,
To let Your love steady me when everything else slips away.

So here I am.
Confused, aching, restless.
I offer it all to You.

Help me breathe here.
Help me trust that even when I disappoint others,
I am not a disappointment to You.
Be my anchor when the fog rolls in.
Be the flame that does not flicker out.
Let Your Presence whisper through the smoke,
“This, too, belongs. You are still mine. You are still beloved.”
And maybe that is enough for today.
Amen.

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