There was a morning not long ago when I woke up with a heart full of heaviness. The kind that presses before your eyes even open — a residue of regret, a whisper of “you should have known better.” I carried the weight of words I wish I’d unsaid, of things left undone, of love I hadn’t shown well. The sun peeked through the curtains as if to say, “You’re still here. There’s still today.”

And in that quiet moment, I remembered this verse — His mercies are new every morning. Not recycled. Not worn thin. New.

It’s easy to believe that grace runs out — that after a certain number of mistakes, the reservoir might dry up. But Scripture reminds us that mercy is God’s daily gift. Like manna in the wilderness, it comes with each sunrise. Not to cover yesterday, but to nourish today.

We’re not asked to carry the shame of yesterday into today’s journey. We’re invited to release it, to trust that what we have been given this morning is exactly what we need — no more, no less. Grace for this moment. Mercy for this breath. Strength for this step.