Lord God,
You are the Potter, I am the dust.
And yet, You do not leave me lifeless.
You knelt down and breathed into clay
and man became a living soul.
Breathe into me again.
Shape me with Your hands.
Not with haste, but with care
as You did in Eden.
You formed every detail,
every contour, every purpose.
I confess I run ahead of You.
I chase meaning in my own strength.
But only You give breath that satisfies.
Only You give work that fulfills.
Only You give rest that restores.
You placed Adam in the garden
not to be idle, but to tend and keep.
So here I am, Lord place me.
Plant me where You will.
Let me cultivate what You’ve entrusted.
Let me work with joy and worship with reverence.
And when I grow tired, remind me
You made the Sabbath for man.
Not as a burden, but a gift.
Call me back to rest
not just a pause, but a presence.
To rest in You is to remember who I am.
You said, “It is not good for man to be alone.”
Lord, I feel the ache of that truth.
Thank You for the gift of community,
for those who walk beside me.
Teach me to be a helper, not a taker.
To give love, not just crave it.
To build up, not tear down.
You made Eve from Adam’s side
not from the head to rule over,
not from the feet to be trampled on,
but from the rib close to the heart.
Teach me to walk in unity,
with humility, honor, and love.
You brought them together naked and unashamed.
Oh, how I long to live that honestly.
Strip away my masks.
Heal what shame has broken.
Let me walk in the garden of Your presence,
unafraid and fully known.
Lord, return me to Eden
not a place, but a posture
formed by Your hand,
filled with Your breath,
placed in Your purpose,
resting in Your love.
In the name of Jesus,
the second Adam,
who restores what was lost
and walks with us again
Amen.