God of the Midwives and the Multiplied,
You are present in the birth pangs of nations
and the hidden cries of the oppressed.
You saw the chains tighten on Israel.
You heard the lash crack in Egypt.
You knew the king’s fear,
the cruelty born of jealousy,
and the shadow of death stalking the sons of Your people.
Yet You were not absent.
In secret places,
You raised women with holy defiance
Shiphrah and Puah
who feared You more than Pharaoh,
who risked their lives to cradle life instead of crush it.
Lord, make me that brave.
When I face powers that despise the image of God,
let me stand with trembling knees but steady heart.
Let my fear of You
outweigh my fear of them.
You let the enemy’s cruelty forge the strength of Your people.
The more they were pressed, the more they flourished.
The more they were crushed, the deeper their roots grew.
And so the promise You gave to Abraham
could not be strangled in Egypt’s hands.
God, teach me to trust that oppression cannot undo Your covenant.
That the enemy’s schemes only serve Your story.
That affliction can become the seedbed of abundance.
Let me not curse the season of pressure
but see in it the hand of the God who multiplies.
Let me remember that deliverance often begins
in the smallest acts of quiet faithfulness
a lie to a tyrant to save a child,
a basket prepared for a river,
a whispered prayer in the dark.
O Lord of the Increase,
bend my will to Yours,
harden my courage against evil,
and soften my heart toward the weak.
Make me a midwife of Your kingdom
catching the fragile, the new, the unseen
until every promise You made
breathes freely in the land of freedom.
In the name of Jesus,
the greater Deliverer,
who entered our bondage to bring us out,
Amen.