“Give us this day our daily bread.” Matthew 6:11-13 (NKJV)
Most people have boxed up their decorations and taken down their lights, returning to the mundane routine of January life. If your holidays were horrible, a piece of you likely breathes a sigh of relief, thankful that the tense dinners, inconsiderate conversations, or grief-filled memories can be stored away.
I know how that feels, when friends are just too busy to be part of your Christmas season, when family members who are no support all year demand that you pretend everyone loves being together, when finances are tight, health is rocky, and the Baby in the manger is genuinely the only thing giving the holiday season lifeblood.
This past Christmas, I truly clung to the words from the song, “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” notably the earliest lyrics that highlight the word “dismay.” Dismay isn’t a simple, casual word we throw around when we are stressed by life’s little worries, such as a hectic afternoon carpooling kids or the minor setback of staying at the office a tad later than usual.
Rather, dismay is a heavy word centered on hopelessness. It’s heavy. Thankfully, though, the Christmas hymn doesn’t stop with dismay, as the writer promises comfort and joy through the redemptive gift of the Savior.
It’s hard to imagine actively redeeming a part of the past, a memory that we can’t physically change, or a person with whom we no longer share a relationship. Perhaps this is what makes the holidays sometimes feel horrible.
The lights and laughter can’t hold up to the heartache of eleven months of surviving a fallen world. I feel that sentiment more than I wish, which is why I now quietly whisper the words “comfort and joy” when I feel overwhelmed, when dismay wants to destroy my heart. Comfort and joy are consistently mine for the taking, even when everything around me seems to have drowned them out, even when I can’t fix the past.
Thanks to an omnipresent Father, we have access to His divine nature and gifts in all places and spaces, through all our days, no matter how heavy they seem. Thus, comfort and joy are ours right here and now, if only we look for them.
I like to think of comfort and joy as a bit of the daily bread Christ includes in The Lord’s Prayer. When He teaches the disciples the foundational structure for communing with His Father, He encourages them to ask for daily bread, for just enough to sustain the heart for the day, trusting that God’s same mercy, grace, and goodness will supply all that is needed the day after that.
In other words, it’s a prayer of trust, committing the unknown, day after day, to a God who guarantees the readily available comfort and joy we have in a world that can easily make us believe otherwise.
In everyday life, this manifests as brief, whispered prayers of gratitude for the small things. It’s a “thank you for my daily bread” when someone lets you in front of them in traffic so you’re on time to pick your kids up from school. It’s a “thank you for my daily bread” when your spouse offers to clean up after dinner so you have one less chore to balance that evening. It’s a “thank you for my daily bread” when your child’s boo-boo was minor, your medical bill was less than anticipated, and the grocery store ran a deal on your favorite spaghetti sauce.
This daily bread is our comfort and joy because it’s a continuous reminder that our God is good, personal, and actively working through every nanosecond of our days, even the hard ones that the world screams should naturally feel holly and jolly.
God doesn’t need manmade festivities to remind us that we can rejoice in the warmth and light of His gift of salvation throughout the year, no matter who comes and goes, no matter the mistakes we make, and no matter the challenges we face.
I pray you rest in this truth if the holidays weren’t what you expected. May God truly bless you with an overwhelming sense of His daily bread in this new year.
Let’s pray:
Father, thank you for daily bread, for granting us, as mere sinners, access to your comfort and joy no matter the season. I’m grateful that you are so personal as to care about the everyday details of our existence and that you not only care but want to show us your presence as you grant us bits of mercy and grace to sustain us in the hard days. May we seek your presence and praise your footsteps that carry us throughout the year. We love you, Lord. Forever, Amen.
Photo Credit: ©Getty Images/AlenaPaulus
Related Resource: When God Feels Harsh or Distant: Gaining Peace Through Christ's Compassion
Many people know God is loving and kind—but struggle to feel or trust that love in their most wounded places. For those impacted by trauma, religious abuse, legalism, or deep loss, God can feel distant, harsh, or unsafe.
In this moving conversation, host Jennifer Slattery sits down with author Sherri Hughes Gregg to explore how Jesus consistently reveals Himself as tender, compassionate, and near to the brokenhearted. Together, Jennifer and Sherri model how we can wrestle respectfully with Scripture, release shame-laden interpretations, and encounter Christ as He truly is: the One who comforts, restores dignity, and brings beauty from ashes. If this episode helps you face fear with God's confidence, be sure to subscribe to Faith Over Fear on Apple or Spotify so you get new episodes every week!
Originally published Thursday, 15 January 2026.
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