Every Hour, I Need You

There’s a kind of quiet that only comes when you’ve reached the end of yourself—the kind that humbles you, softens you, and reminds you that you were never meant to carry it all alone. I’ve known that quiet. I’ve sat in it more than once, hands open, heart trembling, whispering, “Lord, I need You.”

There’s no pretense in that prayer, no fancy words or practiced phrases. It’s the raw honesty of a soul that knows it cannot stand on its own. It’s a confession wrapped in surrender, a truth spoken from the deepest part of who we are: Without You, I fall apart.

I’ve lived long enough to know that life has a way of humbling you—of breaking your plans, your pride, and sometimes even your heart. It strips away the illusion of control until all that’s left is need. And strangely enough, that’s where grace meets us best—in the space between our striving and our surrender.

“Lord, I come, I confess.”

How many times have those words echoed through my prayers? Not because I’m faithless, but because I’m human. Because no matter how many years I’ve walked with Him, I still find myself needing Him in every moment. Every hour. Every breath.

When the weight of Tim’s illness feels too heavy to carry, I bow my head and whisper those words. When fear tries to tighten its grip, when exhaustion threatens to take the joy out of a day, I return to the same truth that’s carried me through so much: He is my rest. He is my guide. He is my defense.

There’s something beautifully freeing about admitting how much we need God. The world tells us to be strong, to hold it together, to fix it, manage it, push through it. But there’s a strength that comes not from doing, but from bowing. Not from striving, but from trusting.

When I bow before Him, I find rest. When I stop pretending I can do it all, I make space for the One who can.

He’s the one that guides my heart when I can’t see the road ahead. He’s the voice that whispers peace into chaos, that stills the storm when all I can see are the waves. He’s my one defense when the lies of doubt and fear try to speak louder than faith. He’s my righteousness when I fall short—again and again—and yet am met with mercy instead of condemnation.

“Every hour, I need You.”

That’s not a weakness—it’s the most powerful truth I know. Because in every hour, there’s something that tries to pull me away from Him: distractions, worries, weariness. But every hour also brings a new chance to remember—He is near.

There are moments I’ve felt completely undone—those nights when the tears don’t stop, when the ache feels too deep for words. But even then, I’ve felt His presence, quiet and constant, holding me together when everything else falls apart.

It’s in the smallest of things, too—the morning light through the window, the sound of laughter, the steady rhythm of breath. Little reminders that grace isn’t just found in the grand or miraculous; it’s found in the ordinary, in the hours we’re simply trying to make it through.

And maybe that’s why this prayer is one I return to over and over. It’s not a one-time confession—it’s a way of living. A way of walking through life with open hands instead of clenched fists.

Because I’ve learned that dependence isn’t defeat. It’s the truest form of worship.

We were never meant to be self-sufficient. We were meant to walk closely with the One who knows us best. The One who catches us when we stumble. The One who already knows our flaws and still chooses to call us beloved.

So when I whisper, “Lord, I need You,” it’s not a cry of despair—it’s a declaration of trust. It’s saying, “I can’t, but You can.” It’s saying, “I won’t run ahead of You; I’ll stay right here in Your presence.” It’s saying, “I believe Your grace is still enough for me, even here.”

Every hour, every season, every circumstance—He is what holds me together.

And even now, as I look back on the years—through the storms we’ve faced, the prayers we’ve prayed, the tears we’ve shed—I can see His fingerprints on every single one of them. In every valley, He was my strength. In every victory, He was my joy. In every silence, He was still working.

So I bow again today, not because I’m defeated, but because I’m grateful. I confess not my failure, but my faith. Because the same God who guided me through the hardest nights is the same God who will lead me through whatever lies ahead.

Lord, I come. I confess. Without You, I fall apart.
You are my rest. You are my strength. You are my song.

And as long as there’s breath in my lungs, I will keep saying it—
Lord, I need You. Oh, I need You. Every hour, I need You.