Jehovah Jireh—the God who provides,
You know.
Maybe she can keep it a secret from some. From her parents, her friends, her children, her pastor. Her husband, even.
Maybe she can bury the credit cards in the bottom of her wallet. Stash her passwords in a place no one looks. Keep the lights on and the water running and the table set.
But she can’t hide from You.
You see the blood-red digits that greet her when she checks her bank statement.
You hear the tearful phone calls made late into the night, pleading for one more day.
You feel the pang of guilt every time she swipes her card. The flash of fear when she checks the calendar. The sting of shame when she hears that yet another friend bought a house to call their own.
You see it all. You hear it all. You feel it all.
You know it all.
You look at her—kicking her feet and gasping for breath in the depths of her debt—and Your heart breaks.
You are not a banker. You are not a collector. You are not a credit score keeper.
You are the God who gave up everything to pay the penalty she could never afford.
The God who pierced His own flesh and let the blood spill over the line where her name was written.
The God who called her name and broke her chains and carried her home.
A home she didn’t build, or buy, or even bargain for herself. A house that will last long after the spare change in her cup holder crumbles into dust.
You are her home, Lord. And You’re making another home for her even now, an eternal dwelling place more glorious than the most expensive Zillow listing she can find.
Because a Father gives only the best to His daughter.
So I ask that you would provide for her, Abba.
I pray that You would bring whatever she needs to pull herself up from the hole she’s fallen into—regardless of whether she dug the pit herself with bare hands and bad choices, or whether it was carved for her by circumstances beyond her control.
(Perhaps it was a little of both.)
I pray for a new job. For a pay raise. For more hours. For fewer bills. For good benefits. For lower gas prices. For a better economy. For a financial advisor. For self-control. For humility to ask for help. For the generosity of Your church. For an unexpected miracle when she needs it most.
I pray that whatever shape her provision takes, she would recognize Your loving hands holding it out to her. That she would hear the heartbeat of her kind and gentle Father as He offers a gift to His precious girl.
And more than anything else, Lord, I pray that You would free her from the shame weighing her down. Guard her heart against any insults or accusations the enemy tries to whisper in her ear. Protect her soul from seeking its worth in things of earthly value, things that can be lost or stolen or eaten by moths greedy with hunger.
I pray that you would remind her—
with every new paycheck,
every new bill,
every new breath,
—that even if she looks poor to a world that builds altars to the wealthy, she will forever belong to the God who owns it all.
The King who has already made her rich with His love.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
ABOUT THE BLOGGER:
Kati Lynn Tena grew up in Chester County and graduated from Oxford Area High School. After earning her bachelor’s degree in writing from the University of Pittsburgh, she returned to the area and got a job working for a local library. Seven years later, a man walked into the library looking for DVDs and complimented one of her tattoos. In April of 2025 Kati married this man, and the two of them are currently living the love story God wrote for them in an adorable little house on the same street where she was raised. Kati currently works part-time doing marketing for a local youth center, and she spends the remainder of her time hanging out with her husband and friends, working on her own writing and art ventures, and slowly improving her Spanish.