At The Feet of Jesus:

What does a leader need to succeed? Before you answer that question, you might want to check out the first chapter of the book of Joshua. Here, God gives His new leader (Joshua) a quiet but powerful lesson in leadership. With Moses gone, Joshua now stands at the edge of the Promised Land, charged with leading the children of Israel forward. It is a daunting task. You can almost hear the questions forming in his heart. Is he strong enough? Is he wise enough? How could he ever fill the shoes of a leader like Moses? For the first time, Joshua feels the full weight of his weakness as the responsibility settles squarely on his shoulders. God gives him a pep talk. Be strong. Have courage. Cross over.  

Yet, if you read a little bit closer, you’ll discover that God doesn’t give Joshua a battle plan. There is no military strategy. No detailed explanation of how the land will be conquered. God doesn’t overwhelm Joshua with logistics or timelines. He simply reminds him of the two most important things he has - the presence of God and the Word of God. 

 “Just as I was with Moses, so I will be with you” (v. 5). Later He says, “For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go” (v. 9). Before Joshua ever steps onto the battlefield, God wants him to know he will not step forward alone.

But God does not stop there.

In verse 8, God tells Joshua to keep the Book of the Law close. “This book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may observe to do according to all that is written in it.” God’s presence would guide Joshua, but God’s Word would guard him. One anchors his courage; the other shapes his obedience.

Our world is full of leaders who have neither of these two things. They may have influence, charisma, and authority, but they do not carry the presence of God, and they do not submit themselves to His Word. We often define leadership by vision, management skills, risk-taking, or decisiveness. Those things have their place, but God defines leadership differently.

Without God’s presence, leadership becomes self-reliance. Without God’s Word, leadership loses its direction. But when both are held together, a leader can move forward with confidence, courage, and faith, even when the path ahead is unclear.

This is what a leader needs. A willingness to walk with God and a heart that listens to His Word. It doesn’t matter if you lead a family, a company, a church or even a nation. You will fail if you do not have God’s Spirit indwelling you and God’s Word to guide you. Yes, Leadership is that simple. Too bad, our world so rarely sees it. 

What do people see when they look at you?

When Moses came down from meeting with God, he didn’t need to announce where he had been. The people could see it for themselves. God’s glory radiated from his face so clearly that he had to wear a veil just to stand among them. Time spent in the presence of the Lord left a visible mark on him. Exodus tells us that Moses’ face shone because he had been talking with God. (Exodus 34).

I find this passage both encouraging and convicting.

Encouraging, because it reminds me that time with God actually does something. It is not wasted time. It is not an empty ritual. When we draw near to the Lord, He changes us in ways we cannot manufacture on our own. His intimacy transforms us, makes our lives shine. His presence makes our words and actions reflect his glory and bear witness to his work.  

But this passage is also convicting, because it forces me to ask an honest question. If Moses’ time with God was obvious to everyone around him, is my time with God obvious to anyone at all? Do people see the evidence of my time with the Heavenly Father? Do my words, my actions, even my self-talk shine with His glory? 

I am not talking about being louder, more religious, or more impressive. Moses did not glow because he tried harder. He glowed because he lingered longer in the presence of God. The radiance was not something he produced. It was the residual evidence of time spent with the Creator of the universe.

Here is the simple lesson for us. When we spend time in the presence of God, whether in quiet prayer, in the Word, or in gathered worship, that time should spill over into the way we live. People should notice something different. Not perfection, but peace. Not polish, but patience. Not spiritual performance, but a quiet awareness that we have been with the Lord. They should see our faith pointing back to God, so much so that it impacts every moment we have with others. 

So today, draw near to God and stay awhile. See if time in His presence doesn’t change the way you carry yourself into the world. And above all, let your face tell the story of God before your mouth ever does.

Faith depends on where you stand.

A verse in Exodus 20 stops me every time I read it. God has brought the children of Israel to Mount Sinai. He has led them through the wilderness by a pillar of fire and smoke, carried them across the sea, and sustained them with daily provision. Now they stand at a holy mountain as God reveals Himself in thunder and lightning, the blast of trumpets, smoke rising, and darkness settling over the peak. You would think that after everything they had seen, the people would welcome God’s presence.

But they do not. As the thick darkness descends, the people tremble. Exodus 20:21 tells us, “The people stood afar off, but Moses drew near the thick darkness where God was.”

One moment. One God. Two very different places to stand.

I understand the people. There are seasons when God feels overwhelming, and frankly, distance feels safer. I believe in God. I respect God. But too often, I keep Him at arm’s length. I obey just enough to feel secure, but not enough to be changed. I want God’s blessing without the relationship. I want the provision and protection, but not the Presence. 

Moses steps forward because he trusts God’s character more than he fears the unknown. Sometimes God asks us to move toward Him through darkness, not away from it. New understanding does not come from standing back. We will never really experience who God is if we don’t draw near. 

So perhaps today is an invitation to step forward. Put feet to what you believe about God. It may mean leaving the crowd, letting go of comfortable ideas about how God should act, and meeting Him in the midst of a dark cloud. Faith over fear is just a slogan. Real faith depends on where you stand. 

If you are a pastor, you already know this. Ministry can be hard. There are always more people to visit, more hospital rooms to walk into, more sermons to prepare. When you live on a twenty-four-hour call, seven days a week, the work can wear you down faster than you expect. Most pastors truly want to shepherd their flocks well. They do not wake up in the morning thinking, “I’m going to exhaust myself today.” And yet, somewhere deep inside, many of us know that our pride and ego quietly push us to do just that. I know this because I lived it.

I entered ministry because I felt God’s call on my life. I worked hard to point people to Him, to soothe the hurt I saw around me, to be a vessel of God’s grace in what often felt like a dry and weary land. More than anything, I wanted to see God glorified, and I took genuine pride in serving Christ and His church. But what they don’t teach you in seminary is how hard the work can be when ego gets in the way.

In Exodus 18, Moses is doing the work of ministry, and it is slowly crushing him. He sits as judge for the people from morning until night, day after day. The needs are endless, and the responsibility feels unavoidable. Ministry is wearing out God’s servant. When Jethro, his father-in-law, sees what this constant demand is doing to Moses and to his family, he speaks plainly. “What you are doing is not good” (v. 17). Moses listens. He admits his failure and appoints others to help carry the load.

I wish I had learned that lesson sooner.

I have many regrets from my years in ministry, but one of the deepest is how consumed I became by the work. I gave myself to it completely, pushing harder and harder, giving more and more, until there was nothing left in the tank. I told myself I was doing it for God. But deep down, I let the enemy whisper a dangerous lie. I began to believe that no one could do the work as well as I could. And when a pastor listens to that lie long enough, God sometimes has to prune the branch. 

If you want to help your pastor today, here is what that can look like. Make sure he has time for his family. Help lighten the load so he can actually take a day off or get away with his wife for a weekend. Visit someone in the hospital so he doesn't feel he has to be everywhere. Take a task off his plate so he can pray and study the Word. Encourage him with a note or a text. Let him know you see the effort he is making and how thankful you are for it. But most of all, when you sense he is overdoing it, when people-pleasing and ego are driving him to work seventy hours a week, love him enough to say something.

I do not blame anyone else for how my life turned out. That responsibility belongs to me. But I have learned this much. If a pastor's heart is not guarded, the damage can be great. When that happens, the work of God suffers, and everyone is left standing in the rubble, trying to make sense of what fell apart, unable to put the pieces back together.

Believe me. I know.

The trouble with many of our hearts is that we are always chasing God’s blessing. When the children of Israel entered the wilderness, God met them with daily provision. Each morning, as the frost lifted, manna appeared on the ground, and the people went out to gather it. What God provided each day was enough. But on the sixth day, God did something different. He provided a double portion so the people could rest on the Sabbath. No gathering. No striving. Just a day set aside to rest and worship.

Exodus 16:27 tells us that some people went out anyway, searching for a blessing they already had. They walked the ground with baskets in hand, scanning the earth for manna that was never going to be there. They were still chasing God’s blessing rather than listening to God’s Word.

What is important to remember is that God had not stopped being faithful. He had not withdrawn His care. The manna was missing because God was offering something better than bread. He was offering Himself. Rest. Trust. Relationship. But their hearts were still wired to measure God’s goodness by what He did rather than who He was.

We often do the same thing. We chase outcomes, answers, open doors, and fulfilled prayers. We look for God in provision, success, relief, and progress. And the truth is, God does bless His people. But when blessing becomes the focus, worship quietly slips into the background. Without realizing it, our relationship with God becomes transactional. We love Him for what He gives. We trust Him when the manna shows up. We feel close when prayers get answered. And when those things pause, we start searching the ground, wondering where God went.

So today, perhaps it is time to lift your eyes, lay down the basket, and give thanks for what God has already provided. He is still God, whether there is manna on the ground or not.

Ever had a Red Sea experience? A moment when you were between a rock and a hard place, with no clear way forward? Maybe it came through an illness, a job loss, or a fractured relationship. Maybe even right now, you are standing in a place where your circumstances are closing in, your options are disappearing, and you find yourself wondering why God has led you here at all. I can relate. 

In Exodus 14, God brings the children of Israel to the edge of the Red Sea. Behind them, Pharaoh’s army advances, chariots closing in as dust rises in the distance. In front of them, the waters form an immovable barrier. With no place to retreat and no clear way forward, fear spreads through the camp.

Then God does something remarkable. Through Moses, He makes a way. And gives a simple command: move forward. 

I wonder who took the first step. Someone had to. Someone had to answer the fear of the moment with obedience. Someone had to be the one who trusted the word God had spoken and put a foot forward? Faith, in that moment, was not loud or dramatic. Instead, it was a matter of simple obedience.

Who was that person? Scripture never tells us. The Bible never records the name. But this much is certain: someone heard the word of the Lord and obeyed. One simple step of faith led to another, and then another. Soon, others followed. A family moved. Then a people. Before long, a nation walked forward.

The works of God often begin, not with noise or spectacle, but with simple obedience. A single step of faith can open the way for others to follow and experience what God alone can do. So today, you and I have a choice to make. We can take the step God has placed before us, or we can remain where fear keeps us. 

Because the miracle begins with a single step of faith.

When Moses stands before Pharaoh and asks for Israel’s freedom, the moment unravels almost immediately. Pharaoh does not negotiate. He retaliates. The workload doubles. The pressure intensifies. Life becomes much harder for everyone, and the people turn on Moses. Frustrated, overwhelmed, and confused, Moses turns on God. “Why?” he asks. “Why have You sent me? Why have You made things worse?” (Exodus 5:22). It is the question behind so many of our prayers. Why the delay? Why the resistance? Why does obedience sometimes seem to invite trouble instead of relief?

God’s response is strikingly brief. He does not explain Himself. He does not outline the plan. He simply says, “I am the Lord” (Exodus 6:2). When Moses faces a crisis of faith, God does not provide answers. He gives his servant Himself. Before God reveals what He will do, He reminds Moses who He is.

That is the core of faith. God is not interested in managing our comfort as much as He is shaping our trust. If God always moved on our timetable, faith would shrink into a transaction. We would ask. God would deliver. We would assess His goodness by outcomes rather than character. There would be no need to trust God, only to use Him.

Moses cannot see it yet, but God is preparing him for a long obedience. Leading Israel will require more than courage. It will require a deep, settled confidence in who God is, even when the path forward feels unclear. God is not finished, even when circumstances grow heavier. Sometimes the pressure increases not because God has abandoned us, but because He is drawing us closer.

If God is more concerned with who we are becoming in Him than with what we receive from Him, then perhaps the better question is: why do we so often pursue what God can do for us, instead of learning to trust who He is? This is the question of faith. The question each of us must answer. The answer lies not in why, but who.

What is God's plan for you in 2026? As we stand at the threshold of a new year, perhaps that question has crossed your mind. What will God ask of you? What doors will God open? What changes will God bring during the next year? We're wired to want answers, to know the mission, to understand the assignment. And every year, some of us are excited to see what God will do.

It strikes me that when God appears to Moses in the burning bush, a world-changing mission awaits this simple shepherd. The Lord is about to commission a leader who will confront Pharaoh and lead a nation to freedom. The Red Sea. Manna from heaven. Mt. Sinai. The Ten Commandments. The bronze serpent. All of those things are ahead of him. But instead of sharing all the details of the future, God invites Moses to do something first. "Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground." (Exodus 3:5)

We would do well to remember that those sandals carried forty years of wilderness dust. They were worn with the weight of a man who had murdered, fled, and given up on his destiny. Every step Moses had taken as an exile, every doubt that whispered he'd never be more than a shepherd hiding in the desert—it was all caked into the leather of those shoes. His failures. His insecurities. His fears and inadequacies. It is as if God is saying, "Don't let the past intrude on the present."

We want to rush past the burning bush to get to our assignments. We want to know what God is calling us to do in this new year—what ministry, what change, what difference we're supposed to make. But what if God desires from us what He desired from Moses? What if God wants to show us who He is? Maybe He's asking us to take off our shoes—to lay down last year's disappointments, the dust of our striving, the worn-out patterns that keep us at a distance.

So before you make any resolution about what you think God wants you to do, perhaps you need to encounter God for who He truly is. This year, perhaps you need a burning bush experience to lead you toward the future. Remember that the invitation to experience God precedes the assignment. The intimacy comes before the command. God cannot show you what to do until He reveals who He is.

 

As I enter the final days of another year, I find myself standing on holy ground, that sacred space between gratitude and faith. 

This year has been challenging for so many of us, and yet as I look back, I'm overwhelmed by God's faithfulness. The moments when provision came from nowhere. The relationships that held me together. The quiet mornings when His presence was so real I could almost touch it. Even in the hard places, my Heavenly Father showed me that His grace really is sufficient, that His strength really does show up in my weakness.

And when I look ahead, my heart fills with expectation. Where will God lead me? What truths will He reveal? What people will He bring into my life to help me grow? What challenges will He allow to strengthen my faith?

This place between the past and the future is holy ground. Why? Because the same God who has been faithful in every moment behind me is already present in every moment ahead of me.

I think of Moses standing before the burning bush, commanded to take off his sandals because he was on holy ground. Those sandals had carried him through forty years in the wilderness, through exile and obscurity, through the dust of tending sheep in a forgotten desert. But God met him there, right at the intersection of his past and his future. The same God who had preserved him through all those years was about to do something extraordinary, something Moses couldn't yet imagine.

As we step into this new year, we may need to do the same. Take off our sandals. Let go of what we've been carrying, the dust and dirt of disappointments, the weight of what didn't turn out as we hoped. Stand barefoot on this holy ground, knowing that the God who kept us through everything behind us is about to lead us into something extraordinary before us.

This place is the holy ground we stand on - between what was and what will be. Like the holy ground Moses stood on, this is where God is. And frankly, it's precisely where I want to be, too.

 

I am King Herod. 

Luke tells us the story of the King of Judea who heard the news brought by the wise men, listened to the prophecies of the biblical scholars of the day, yet ultimately lied and killed his way through Bethlehem when he did not get his way. And while I have never murdered anyone or created a wave of violence, like Herod, there are times when I have heard the truth and refused to bow to it. There are moments when I have seen the signs of God at work, yet would not surrender. Pride, fear, and a desire to stay in control have kept me from Jesus more times than I care to admit.

Herod teaches me that the most dangerous sin is not the one everyone can see. It is the quiet refusal to let Jesus be King. It is the instinct to guard my own throne, defend my own plans, and cling to my own authority, even when I know there is a better way. The tragedy of Herod is not ignorance. It is that he refused to yield to the One who came to save him, even though the same grace that startled shepherds and guided wise men could have redeemed him as well.

Perhaps this Christmas, you harbor malice toward someone else. Perhaps they have wounded you, mocked you, or created a nuisance for your world. Perhaps they have said things you don’t want to hear, opinions you can’t stomach, or made choices you can’t agree with. Perhaps, like Herod, you smile to their face, but grumble behind their back. 

The message of Christmas invites us to a better way, one that calls us to release bitterness, hurt, and pain. Maybe God is asking you to surrender what has poisoned your peace and weighed down your heart. Could this Christmas become the beginning of a new way of seeing Jesus, or dare I say it, seeing others the way God sees them? 

The truth is that God sent His Son into the world for the Herod in all of us.

I am Herod. And perhaps, so are you.

 

There is a clear pattern in Matthew's description of Joseph in the Christmas narrative. Repeatedly, Joseph receives divine direction through dreams. An angel tells him to take Mary as his wife. Another warning sends him out of Bethlehem in the middle of the night, carrying his young family toward Egypt. Later, he is warned not to return to Jerusalem and is directed instead to Nazareth. Joseph lives in a posture of listening, responding each time God reveals the next step.

What stands out is not that angels delivered the messages, but how Joseph responded. Each time, Scripture records the same outcome: Joseph does what he is told. He rises. He takes Mary. He leaves. He settles where God directs him. Matthew never mentions that Joseph has a question, a protest, or a request for an explanation. There is no delay and no visible struggle. Just obedience.

And that obedience did not make Joseph’s life easier. It made it harder. It drew him into public scandal, forced him into exile in Egypt, and even guided him to settle in Nazareth of all places.  Yet, each message moved him exactly where God needed him to be, guarding the child who would one day save the world.

That may be the lesson Matthew wants us to see. God often reveals His will one step at a time, not so we can chart the future, but so we can learn to trust Him in the present. Like Joseph, we are not always asked to understand the plan. We are asked to obey and do what God says do, even when the next step raises more questions than answers.

I have never encountered an angel speaking to me through my dreams, at least not yet. Most of us haven’t. God’s direction often comes quietly, through Scripture, prayer, conviction, or circumstances that close one door and open another. But the heart of obedience remains the same. It does not depend on how dramatic the message sounds. It depends on how willing we are to trust the One who gives it.

And even when we cannot see the whole picture, simple obedience may shape the world in ways we will never fully know. Just like it did for Joseph. 

Ever wished you could find a little peace during the holidays? I sure have. Right now, the dog is barking for food, the dishes are piling up in the sink, the bills need paying, and my wife is talking about something (I’m honestly not sure what). And to add to everything else, my special needs son is belting out Christmas songs from his iPad like he’s leading his own holiday concert. And here I am, trying to write something. Anything.

The holidays can feel hectic, can’t they? Somewhere between shopping lists, crowded calendars, long to-do lists, and nonstop noise, it becomes hard to experience the “peace on earth, goodwill toward men” the angels sang about. Some days, I find myself longing for a quiet moment. I imagine that if I could step away from the rush and sit still for a few minutes, God might break through the clutter that fills my mind. Perhaps then He could whisper His peace into my heart or remind me of something greater than the chaos around me. I sometimes picture an angel, a star, or even a group of wise men gently pointing me back toward what matters most.

But then I remember, Christmas is not about us escaping the noise. It is about God stepping into it. Jesus was born into a world as chaotic and messy as ours. There were crowded cities, full inns, sleepless nights, and people overwhelmed by life's immediate demands. The shepherds weren’t living peaceful, polished lives; they were tired men doing ordinary work. They were doing what they had always done when heaven suddenly broke through. And the message they heard still stands: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men” (Luke 2:14).

God did not quiet the world when Jesus was born. He did not command a moment of silence to honor the arrival of His Son. He did not ask the angels to lower their voices when the holy moment came. Instead, He stepped straight into a noisy, crowded, chaotic world and announced peace right in the middle of it.

So if your house feels loud, your schedule feels full, and your heart feels stretched thin this season, take heart. Peace does not rise out of silence. Peace comes from the presence of Christ. Even a life filled with barking dogs, dirty dishes, and half-heard conversations can become the very place where God draws near.

The other day, I was driving when I passed a homeless man carrying a sign. I thought about offering him a few dollars, but I did not. He stood outside a McDonald’s asking for food, yet I kept going. I did not stop for a sausage biscuit or a cup of coffee. I drove by, too focused on my morning schedule to let compassion interrupt my plans. My heart was so caught up in the immediate that I could not pause long enough to be a blessing to someone else.

In the Christmas story, there is another person who lived the same way: The innkeeper. Scripture never mentions him by name, but we know that Mary and Joseph were turned away because there was no room in the inn. 

I doubt the innkeeper chased them away or scolded them. I imagine he did what many of us do. He told Joseph that all the rooms were full, then returned to the rush of his other tasks. He traded the eternal for the immediate without even realizing what he had done.

But he was not alone. Bethlehem overflowed with people that night. The streets bustled with travelers returning for the census. Crowds pressed in from every direction. Any person in that village could have stopped to help a young woman in labor. Any of them could have opened a door, offered a chair, or given her a place to rest. Yet no one did. The world was too busy chasing the demands of the moment to see the miracle that was right in front of them.

The truth is simple. We still do the same thing. We rush past needs, moments, and divine opportunities because our calendars feel too full and our minds feel too distracted. The birth of Christ reminds us that God often steps into the world quietly. He invites us to slow down, notice what He is doing, and open the door when He comes near.

What if the innkeeper hadn’t done what he did? What if one of the crowd has paused long enough to help the young couple in need? What if someone, anyone, had stopped what they were doing long enough to be part of a miracle? You will miss being a blessing to others if you are unwilling to recognize the needs of those right in front of you. 

This Christmas, choose to do something for someone else. Look past the rush of the season and focus on lifting another person’s burden. God may place you in the very spot where His love becomes real to someone who desperately needs it, but you will never know if you choose not to see.

Ever had doubts about God? It might surprise you that even some of the strongest people in Scripture wrestled with uncertainty about God's movement in their lives. In the seventh chapter of Luke, John the Baptist is sitting in a prison cell, wondering if he has misunderstood everything. He sends two of his followers to Jesus with a question that must have weighed heavily on his mind. “John the Baptist has sent us to You, saying, ‘Are You the Coming Christ, or should we look for another’” (Luke 7:20).

Stop and think about that. John the Baptist, the one who boldly preached in the wilderness about the coming Messiah, the one Jesus called the greatest person ever born of women, even he had doubts. Some say John was having a moment of weakness in his faith. I believe this moment is included in Scripture to give you and me hope when our own hearts question God’s plan.

Did you notice how Jesus responded? He did not scold John. He did not lecture him about believing harder. Instead, He said, “Go and tell John what you have seen and heard. The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have the gospel preached to them” (Luke 7:22).

Jesus pointed to what He had already done. His reassurance did not come from future promises but from present reality. That could be the lesson for us. When doubt creeps in, we do not always need a new miracle. Sometimes we need to remember the miracles that have already shaped our lives. The moments when God provided exactly what we needed. The times He lifted us from a sickbed and restored strength. The times He opened our ears to hear truth from Scripture. The moment He saved us when our sin was deep and our hope was small. The day He washed us white as snow.

So today, if you find yourself doubting God, remember that you are in good company. Your questions do not threaten God. Jesus did not rebuke John for doubting. He simply pointed him back to what He had already done. Tell your heart to look there too, and let the works of God you have already seen steady your faith today.

Even Jesus understood the power of a thankful heart. Think about it. Before He multiplied the loaves and fish to feed thousands of hungry people, Jesus lifted His eyes to heaven and gave thanks. Before He called Lazarus out of the tomb, He prayed, “Father, I thank You that You have heard Me” (John 11:41). Even on the night He was betrayed, knowing the cross waited for Him, Scripture says Jesus took bread, gave thanks, and broke it (Luke 22:19). If anyone had reason to withhold gratitude in a difficult moment, it was Christ. Yet He still chose to be thankful. 

What does that say to us?

Maybe one thing it tells us is that thanksgiving is more than a polite response to blessings. It is a spiritual posture that opens the door for God to work. Jesus didn’t give thanks because everything looked perfect. He gave thanks because the circumstances before Him required God to move in a supernatural way. Gratitude wasn’t the result of the miracle. Gratitude became the seed that preceded it.

Maybe you’re standing in front of a need that feels too big, too heavy, too uncertain. Maybe you’re praying for a breakthrough, for healing, for help, for guidance. Instead of waiting for God to answer, try following Jesus' example. Give thanks now. Thank Him for hearing you. Thank Him for being faithful. Thank Him for working behind the scenes, even when you can’t yet see it.

Thanksgiving shapes your heart long before it changes your circumstances. It reminds you who God is, what He has already done, and what He is fully capable of doing again. And when you choose gratitude before the miracle, you stand in the same place Jesus stood. You stand confident in the Father’s love and ready to see Him work.

So today, don’t wait until everything is resolved to give thanks. Offer your gratitude now. And trust that the God who multiplies loaves, calls dead things to life, and redeems the darkest moments will meet you in your thanksgiving and do what only He can do.

As a parent, there is nothing better than when your child draws near to you. Precious moments when your little one falls asleep in your arms. Times when they reach out to grab your hand as you cross a busy street. The days when they follow you from room to room just to be close to you. Even on days when they'd like your counsel about a big decision. One of the greatest joys of my life has been watching my children grow into the beautiful vessels God has prepared them to be, and then watching with delight as they raise families of their own.

I think God feels the same way. As our Heavenly Father, He delights when you and I seek His presence. In Ps. 73:28, the psalmist declares that “It is good for me to draw near to God.” There is just something about being in the presence of God that gives our lives meaning and purpose. And while I am not always very good at sheltering under His wing, there is something in my spirit that resonates with me when I do. As His child, I know that I am better living near Him than being a prodigal child, wasting away my existence in a strange land.

I love how the Psalmist shares with us the benefits of being close to God. If you keep reading, he writes, “I have put my trust in the Lord God, that I might declare all Your works.” Did you notice that there seems to be an order to things here? Drawing near to God’s presence produces trust, which in turn leads to purpose. Intimacy with God strengthens our faith and love for Him, leading to confession. The truth is, we cannot keep silent, because we have discovered how good it is to draw near to the Father.

The book of James says, “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you” (James 4:8). That is a wonderful promise. When you and I move to enjoy His presence, when we seek first the Kingdom of God, when we curl up in the lap of our Creator, God promises that He will draw closer to us. No rejection, just closeness. No distance, just presence. The safety we feel, the security and trust we enjoy, the faith we build are the benefits of drawing near, just like the feeling your child has when they snuggle up to you.

So, today, if you are not where you know you need to be. Pause for a moment to draw near to God. Whisper a prayer. Open your Bible. Take a step of faith. The truth is that any movement toward God is a good thing. You might find the peace that comes from falling asleep in His arms, and He will feel the joy of having you there.

I heard someone say recently that when God anointed David as king, He did not hand him a crown; He handed him Goliath. That thought has stayed with me. God could have placed a golden crown on David the moment Samuel poured the oil, but instead He chose to shape him long before He seated him on a throne.

Look at how God prepared this young shepherd. He entrusted him with sheep so he could learn responsibility, compassion, and leadership. He allowed a lion and a bear so he could learn courage and boldness. He gave him quiet hillsides so he could learn to pray. And He let a giant step forward so he could learn to trust faith over fear. Every season carried a purpose. Every challenge held meaning. Not a single moment was wasted.

We often forget that God develops His people long before He places them. We want the crown without the pasture, the victory without the preparation, the testimony without the test. Yet Scripture gently reminds us, “The Lord will perfect that which concerns me” (Psalm 138:8). Nothing in your life is random. Nothing is accidental. Nothing is outside the careful and loving plan of your Father.

So when you face something that feels bigger than you, a problem you cannot solve, or a road you cannot see clearly, remember David. God was not finished with him when Goliath appeared. The giant was simply the next step in God’s plan. And the same is true for you. The obstacle in front of you is not a sign that God is done with you. More often, it is a sign that He is preparing you for something greater.

Trust Him. His plan is perfect, even when the path feels uncertain. The battles you never wanted and the obstacles you never expected are not moments of abandonment. They are moments of formation. And in time, you will look back and see how every lion, every quiet hillside moment, every difficult season, and every giant worked together to shape your life. You will see that God was guiding every step, preparing you for the purpose He designed from the very beginning.

Because the God who once gave David a giant instead of a crown may be doing the same for you. For now, trust Him with the giants in front of you, knowing that each one is shaping you for the future He has already prepared.

Ever wished God would work faster? Ever prayed for something and felt like heaven hit the pause button? Someone you love gets sick, and you fall to your knees, pleading with the Father for healing, yet nothing changes right away. In those moments, it’s easy to wonder why Jesus doesn’t step in immediately. Why doesn’t He answer the moment we call? Perhaps God is trying to lead you on a journey of faith rather than just granting your wishes like a genie in a lamp..

Luke 17 gives us a clear picture of this truth. Ten lepers stood at a distance and lifted their voices to Jesus, begging for mercy. They asked for healing, and Jesus heard them. Yet instead of touching them on the spot or speaking a word that would instantly restore their skin, Jesus gave simple instructions. He said, “Go show yourselves to the priests.” The miracle did not happen at His feet. It happened as they walked. Scripture says that while they went, they were cleansed (v. 14). 

Do not miss that. Their healing required obedience. Jesus could have healed them with a single touch. He could have spoken one word and changed everything in an instant. Instead, He invited them to trust Him step by step. Their answer unfolded on the road, and their healing became a journey of faith. The dusty road they walked became the place where their faith grew.

Maybe you are waiting right now. Maybe you are frustrated because God has not answered your prayer the way you expected. Instead of getting irritated or discouraged, ask Him for grace to see your waiting as part of the journey. Keep walking the dusty road in front of you. Keep trusting His voice. Because somewhere along the way, often when you least expect it, God will begin to work. The answer takes shape. The healing comes. The door opens. And you discover that the waiting not only brought the blessing you needed, it also drew your heart closer to Him.

 

Ever had an unexpected announcement that changed your life forever? The doctor walks in with test results. Your teen daughter sits you down to say she’s pregnant. Your boss steps into your office with a pink slip. Moments like these etch themselves into our minds. They settle deep within our psyche like indelible ink, shaping the way we think, feel, and carry ourselves forward.

The disciples knew that kind of moment. In John 20, Scripture says, “Then the same day at evening… the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in the midst, and said to them, ‘Peace be with you’” (John 20:19 NKJV). 

What a scene. The disciples had locked themselves away in a room filled with grief and dread. As night settled in, the flicker of a few candles cast trembling shadows across the walls. Their Master had been crucified. Their hopes felt shattered. Their future seemed to collapse right in front of them. In that small, dim room, fear pressed in like a weight on their chests, draining their courage and leaving their hearts overwhelmed with sorrow.

But then Jesus walked in and everything changed. He appears before the disciples. His presence brings peace where fear had taken root. Joy where sorrow had settled. Purpose where confusion had clouded their minds. I want you to notice that the Risen Christ did not step into that room empty-handed; He came carrying exactly what the disciples needed. And from that moment on, their lives were never the same.

In truth, we all face moments when we desperately need Jesus to step into our lives. Circumstances shake us. News rattles us. Some days our hearts feel tired, fragile, or completely overwhelmed. But then, in the most unexpected and extraordinary ways, Jesus shows up. He speaks peace. He offers His presence. He gives renewed purpose. You might be sitting in a locked, dark room right now. Your faith might feel like a candle struggling to stay lit. But if you wait, God will appear and in that moment, everything will change, because, that’s what happens when Jesus walks into the room.

 

It was an ordinary day in the little town of Nain, until two very different groups met at the city gate. One group was filled with life, made up of Jesus, His disciples, and a crowd of followers who had seen His miracles and were eager for more. Their conversation carried a sense of joy and wonder. Hope rose with every step, and faith filled the air like a song. There was laughter, anticipation, and the kind of excitement that often surrounded Jesus.

The other group was different. Heavy with sorrow, a widow walked at the front, her head bowed, her tears falling onto the dusty road as she followed the body of her only son to the grave. Around he,d neighbors and friend walkeds, trying to offer comfort, yet their silence spoke louder than words. The air was thick with grief, and the slow rhythm of their footsteps carried the sound of loss and finality. Each step echoed the weight of dreams that would never come true.

Two crowds. Two moods. Two destinations. One carried life, the other carried death. One walked in hope, the other in heartbreak. One knew joy, the other felt the weight of unbearable loss. And right there, in the middle of it all, stood Jesus.

It strikes me that Jesus could have stepped aside and let the funeral pass by. He could have offered a polite word of sympathy and continued on His way. Buthee did not. Scripture says, “When the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her” (v. 13). Before He spoke a word or performed a miracle, He saw this grieving widow. He noticed the pain behind her tears and the emptiness in her eyes, and His heart was moved.

Instead, He stepped forward and touched the coffin, stopping the procession of death in its tracks. With a voice filled with both tenderness and power, He spoke life where death had taken hold. At that moment, her son sat up, and the silence of mourning turned into a chorus of praise. The two crowds became one, united by awe and gratitude in the presence of the One who brings life from death.

Perhaps today you find yourself walking in one of those processions. Maybe you are among those filled with hope, watching God work around you. Or maybe you are in the other crowd, carrying a loss or disappointment that feels too heavy to bear. Take comfort in this truth: Jesus still sees. He still stops. He still acts. The same voice that called the widow’s son back to life still speaks today, offering hope, healing, and new beginnings.

So let your heart be tender. Grieve for what has been lost. Pray for those who are walking in the procession of death. Lift friends and family who have yet to meet the Savior. Because even now, the compassion of Jesus is there. He will step into that pain, and when he does, everything changes. Just as it did that day in the sleepy, little town of Nain.

 

Ever had your car’s GPS steer you wrong? The other day, I followed the GPS on my phone to a new place and still ended up lost. I did everything right, followed each turn and every direction, but somehow Google Maps led me to the wrong spot. I’m sure that has happened to you, too. Still, it made me think about how nice it would be if we had a GPS for life, something that could give us clear, step-by-step directions when we do not know which way to go.

Thankfully, we do. God has already given us one in His Word. Psalm 119:105 says, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Scripture does more than point us toward heaven; it helps us through the twists and turns of daily life. When we read it and apply it, God’s Word guides our choices, attitudes, and relationships with wisdom and peace.

But just like a GPS, it only works if we actually use it. You can have the best navigation system in the world, but if you never open the app or enter the destination, you will never reach your goal. The same is true spiritually. A Bible that stays closed cannot guide you. When we neglect God’s Word, confusion often follows. Think about the frustration you feel when Siri sends you to the wrong place. You probably muttered a few choice words under your breath when you ended up somewhere you did not want to be. Many people will face that same reality in life, realizing too late that ignoring God’s direction has taken them far from where they were supposed to be.

Proverbs 3:6 reminds us, “In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” When we take time each day to read God’s Word and invite the Father into our decisions, He faithfully provides the direction we need. If you feel lost today, open His Word and let Him show you the way forward. Even if you cannot see the whole road ahead, His truth will always light your next step, and eventually, you will end up right where you were meant to go. 

 

Many years ago, my family and I visited Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. If you’ve never been, it’s quite an experience—an underground world of twisting tunnels and vast caverns that stretch for hundreds of miles beneath the earth. On one of our tours, the park ranger led us into a large chamber, then asked everyone to raise a hand in front of their face. He turned off the lights, and for the first time in my life, I experienced complete darkness. I couldn’t see my hand, though it was only inches from my face. The blackness was so deep it almost felt heavy, pressing in from every side.

I’ve often thought about that moment when I read Jesus’ words about “outer darkness”—the way He described hell as a place where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth (Matthew 8:12; 22:13; 25:30). While we tend to picture hell as fiery and hot, Scripture also paints it as a place utterly without light, hope, or the presence of God. That kind of darkness isn’t just physical—it’s spiritual. It’s the total absence of the One who is light and life itself.

Hell is not a comfortable topic for preachers these days (I can’t remember the last time I heard a preacher mention it), but it is a necessary one. There is a need for those of us who are in the light to warn others that sin separates. Eternal destinies matter. The reality is that wide is the path that leads to destruction and there are many who are crusing down the highway of life without thinking about where they will end up one day. 

God doesn’t want anyone to live—or die—without His light. Jesus came to rescue us from that eternal darkness, offering instead the promise of His presence forever. But if we never warn others, or even take this truth into our own hearts with a healthy fear of the Lord, we may succumb to the darkness. 

So when the world feels dim or you sense shadows creeping into your heart, remember this: you don’t have to live in darkness. The same Savior who spoke light into existence still says, “I am the light of the world. He who follows Me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life” (John 8:12 NKJV).

 

As someone who wrestles with depression, there are days when my thoughts threaten to drown me. During those times, negativity and uncertainty can pour over my soul, making me feel like I am standing under Niagara Falls with a Dixie Cup. And before anyone rushes to remind me how I should feel as a Christian, let’s be real: the abundant life isn’t always easy. Sometimes, it’s downright brutal.

Jeremiah knew that struggle. In Jeremiah 38, the prophet is thrown into a cistern—a deep pit carved from rock, damp and dark, meant to collect rainwater. But this one held no water, only dirt or mud. Jeremiah sank into the darkness and remained there for many days (Jeremiah 37:16), abandoned and left to starve. Imagine the chill of those stone walls, the echo of silence, the feeling that God Himself had gone quiet. Yet even in that long darkness, God hadn’t forgotten him. The Lord moved the heart of a man named Ebed-Melek, who courageously approached the king and pleaded for Jeremiah’s release. With ropes and old rags to cushion him, and some men to help, they gently pulled the weary prophet out of the pit and back into the light.

That image speaks deeply to me. God doesn’t leave us in the dark forever. Sometimes, His rescue comes not through thunder or miracles, but through the compassion of another person willing to reach into our dark place. And it strikes me that Ebed-Melek didn’t try to rescue the prophet by himself. He took others with him (30 men) to help him lift the prophet before he succumbed to despair and died (Jer. 38:10). 

So this morning, if you’re the one stuck in the pit, hold on—God sees you. He’s working behind the scenes to send someone with ropes and rags of grace. And if you’re standing in the sunshine, look around—someone near you might need a lifeline. Don’t judge. Don't remind them of how they ought to feel, or make them feel inadequate because they are struggling. Just do what needs to be done to help them move from the darkness into the light. Reach down and help them find their way back. In fact, take the church with you when you do. I suspect that pulling Jeremiah out of the pit might have been tough for one person to do, but with thirty men all focused on rescuing one soul, the burden was easier to bear. 

Is there someone around you who needs you to bring ropes and rags of grace today? Instead of asking God to send someone else—or offering well-meaning but empty words—why not be the answer to their prayer? Grab a rope and start pulling. You might just help someone find their way out of the darkness and back into the light. Just saying.

“He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.” — Psalm 40:2 (NIV). 

 

And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.” – 1 Kings 19:12 (NKJV)

Have you ever prayed for God to show up in some mighty, unmistakable way—and nothing happened? Elijah knew that disappointment. After standing boldly for God on Mount Carmel, he found himself hiding in a cave, worn out and afraid. He longed for God to do something powerful to change his situation. Instead, the Lord met him in a way Elijah didn’t expect.

The wind tore through the mountains, the ground shook beneath him, and a fire blazed before his eyes—but God wasn’t in any of it. Then came a gentle whisper. And in that still small voice, Elijah discovered what his heart needed most: not God’s power, but His presence.

It strikes me that God was with Elijah the entire time. Even in the cave—dark, lonely, and silent—Elijah wasn’t alone. God didn’t abandon him; He simply chose a quieter way to reveal Himself. Sometimes, we’re so focused on wanting God to move mountains that we miss the miracle of Him simply being with us in the cave.

When God seems silent, remember—His presence is often closer than His power is visible. He may not always shake the earth or send fire from heaven, but He never leaves your side. Take time today to rest in that truth. Instead of asking God to prove His power, invite Him to remind you of His presence. Because when you know He’s near, even the cave becomes holy ground.

 

Have you noticed how things that were once clearly right are now up for debate? It seems as if the biblical values that once shaped our lives are now fading into a fog of compromise. Standards shift. Commitments don’t last. Convictions bend under pressure. Half-truths become the norm. Yet the reality is this—our generation isn’t facing anything new. The same patterns have surfaced throughout history.

In Jeremiah 35, God paints a picture for us. In this often-overlooked chapter, God tells Jeremiah to offer wine to the Rechabites—a simple request to most people—but they refuse to drink any wine at all. Why? Because generations earlier, their ancestor Jonadab commanded them not to drink wine, build houses, or plant vineyards, so they followed this advice. Times changed and centuries passed, yet the Rechabites remained faithful to what was handed down. For over 200 years, they honored that instruction. God then uses their loyalty to challenge Judah: “Look at this family—they obey a human command from their forefather. But My people ignore My voice again and again.”

God wasn’t honoring the Rechabites simply because they didn’t drink wine—He was honoring them because they listened and obeyed. In a world full of compromise, they stood firm. As times changed, they held fast to the instruction passed down. 

And God rewarded them with a promise: “Jonadab son of Rechab will never fail to have a descendant to serve Me” (Jer. 35:19).

We may not be asked to avoid vineyards, but we are called to live by God’s standards—even when they’re unpopular. When everyone else cuts corners, will you walk in integrity? When the world says, “follow your heart,” will you follow God’s Word? When obedience costs you something, will you remain faithful? The Rechabites show us that obedience is not about convenience—it’s about covenant. And while abstaining from wine might be a small thing, even one small step of obedience honors God. He sees it. Who knows, God might just use your obedience as an example to draw others to Him. 

We’ve all seen the paintings—Jesus on the cross with a jagged crown of thorns pressed into His brow. It’s a heartbreaking image, but recently I heard a preacher explain that crown in a way that stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t just torture. It was theology.

When Adam sinned, God declared in Genesis 3:18 that the ground would be cursed and “both thorns and thistles it will produce for you.” From that moment on, thorns became a physical reminder of humanity’s rebellion—a symbol of sin, curse, and separation from God. Every thorn that pierced a farmer’s hand and every tangle of briars in the field testified to the same truth: this is what sin has done. Generation after generation felt the weight of that curse as they labored against the ground, constantly reminded of the cost of disobedience.

Fast-forward to the crucifixion. As Roman soldiers mocked Jesus, they twisted together a crown of thorns and shoved it onto His head. They thought they were humiliating Him. But in the sovereignty of God, something much deeper was happening.

Jesus wasn’t just wearing pain… He was wearing the curse.

The very symbol of sin was placed on the sinless Savior. He carried our curse to the cross so we wouldn’t have to carry it anymore. What once represented death now points to redemption. What once screamed “condemnation” now whispers “grace.” The crown of thorns became the crown of life.

If Jesus was willing to wear my curse, why am I still wearing the things He already carried? Guilt, shame, regret—those thorns no longer belong on my head. Today, let’s loosen our grip on the burdens Christ already bore. Lay them at the foot of the cross and walk in the freedom He purchased—because the curse has a new name: victory.

Unfortunately, the area where I live has an epidemic of pine beetles. Most of the trees in my backyard have been affected by these nasty little creatures. If you’re familiar, the beetle burrows under the bark of the tree, and as it multiplies, it carries a fungus that destroys the nutrient and hydration system of the pine, slowly killing it. The tree doesn’t collapse overnight—it simply dies of thirst from the inside out.

The trouble is, I never saw a single pine beetle, but I’ve certainly seen the evidence of their destruction. What was once a tall and mighty pine, stretching toward the sky, became little more than a rotted stick of wood. By the time I noticed the dying trees, it was already too late to attempt a rescue. The only recourse was to cut them down and stack the wood along the fence for firewood.

It strikes me that our lives can be much the same. The things that damage our relationship with God often work in secret, hiding from the light—an unkind thought, an angry intention, a quiet resentment we justify or ignore. Outwardly, everything may look healthy, but inside, those small, unseen sins can block the flow of God’s grace and drain our spiritual strength.

That’s why David prayed in Psalm 139:23–24, “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” He understood that God’s searchlight isn’t meant to condemn us, but to heal us—to reveal what’s hidden so we can be made whole again.

Like the trees in my yard, we sometimes need our Heavenly Father to peel back the bark of our hearts and expose what lies beneath. When we allow Him to do that gentle work, His grace begins to flow freely again, bringing renewal where decay once lived. So today, take a quiet moment and invite God to search your heart. Don’t fear what He might uncover—His goal isn’t to shame but to restore, to help you grow strong and thriving once more in His Spirit.

Reflection:
What hidden thing might God be asking you to surrender today so that His life can flow freely again in you?

The heart of God still beats for the lost. His Word declares that He “desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Timothy 2:4). That truth has not changed, even if our pulpits have grown quiet about it. In an age where “feel-good” sermons often replace messages of repentance, the urgency of the Gospel still stands firm. Christ came “to seek and to save those who are lost” (Luke 19:10), and His mission remains our calling today.
The tragedy of our times is that many have grown comfortable hearing about God’s love but rarely about His holiness. We preach grace but avoid repentance. We sing about heaven but seldom warn about hell. Yet the same Jesus who stretched out His arms in mercy also spoke of judgment for those who reject Him. Salvation was never meant to be a half-hearted decision or a whispered prayer to ease the conscience. It’s a complete surrender—a death to self and a new birth in Christ. Anything less is a counterfeit gospel.
If the fire has faded in our churches, perhaps it’s because the fire no longer burns in our hearts. The Gospel that once turned the world upside down still has the power to change lives, but it must first change us. Ask God to rekindle your passion for the lost. Let the flames of conviction burn again until you can’t help but speak of His saving grace. When the Church regains her burden for souls, the world will once again see the light of Christ blazing through the darkness.

Ever grow weary in doing good? Let’s face it: being kind requires intention, effort, and often more than a bit of selflessness. Pastors know this truth all too well. The call to ministry is filled with joy, but it is also marked by sacrifice. There are always more sermons to write, more sick to visit, more prayers to pray, and more ministries to oversee. And in today’s world, every action and word can feel like it’s being scrutinized—not only in the church pews, but potentially online for the world to see.

In the midst of all this, it’s easy to forget that pastors are human too. They have families who need them, bodies that need rest, and hearts that can grow weary. I often look back on my own ministry days and wish I had taken more time to pour into those closest to me. The truth is, even shepherds need tending.

The Apostle Paul wrote, “Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart” (Galatians 6:9, NKJV). Those words apply to every believer, but they carry special weight for pastors. The harvest may not always be visible in the moment, but God sees their labor of love.

This October—Pastor Appreciation Month—take a moment to encourage your pastor. A note of thanks, a simple prayer, or a kind gesture can breathe life into someone who spends so much of their own life pouring out for others. And if you are a pastor, may you be reminded that your faithfulness matters more than you know—both to God and to the flock He’s entrusted to you. 

My special-needs son has a love language: food. If you put mac and cheese, pizza, BBQ, chicken strips, or even Doritos in front of him, he’ll enjoy every bite. But it wasn’t always that way. When he was younger, he was one of the pickiest eaters you could imagine. He would only touch a certain chicken nugget from a particular place (Hint: Golden Arches).

So what changed? He grew. He began to try different things. Little by little, he developed a taste for new flavors prepared in different ways. His understanding of food didn’t come all at once—it followed his experiences. Each new bite opened the door to something more. There were moments of hesitation, times when he wasn’t sure about dipping his spoon into the bowl, but whenever he did, it always led to a broader, richer palate.

The same is true in our walk with God. Psalm 34:8 says, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” Notice the order—first, we taste. We pray, open His Word, take small steps of trust, and walk in obedience. As we do, we begin to experience His presence, His provision, and His promises. Our faith deepens not just because we’ve heard about His goodness, but because we’ve lived it, tasted it, and seen His promises proven true.

You may not fully understand what God is doing in your life at this moment. That’s okay. Understanding often follows experience. Just as a child learns to enjoy new flavors, we learn to trust the Lord as we continue to “taste” what He sets before us. Every season, whether sweet or bitter, gives us another chance to discover that His goodness never runs out. So today, make it your prayer: “Lord, help me to keep tasting and seeing Your goodness day by day. Let every experience draw me closer to trusting You, until my understanding deepens into wisdom.”

Who knows, you might develop a new love language. 

Ever been impressed by an act of kindness? I have. There have been moments in my life when someone’s kindness or forgiveness touched me so deeply that it completely changed my outlook. Sometimes it was a simple gesture, other times it was a word of encouragement or even a prayer I didn’t know someone was praying for me. God has often used those moments to meet me right where I needed Him most.

Paul knew the transforming power of kindness. In Ephesians 4:32, he writes, “And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.” Notice the flow—kindness springs from a tender heart, and a tender heart is nurtured through forgiveness. 

But forgiveness is not easy. People hurt us, betray us, or speak against us, and the natural response is to hold on to the pain. When we let those wounds fester, bitterness hardens our hearts, and kindness gets pushed aside. That’s why Paul points us back to Christ. He reminds us that we are to forgive others because we have already been forgiven.

So, what happens the next time someone wrongs us? Instead of repaying hurt with hurt, we can let God’s forgiveness soften our hearts. Make us tender. We can choose to show kindness, extend compassion, and even forgive—because Christ has done the same for us.

Today, ask God to make your heart tender. Let His mercy toward you overflow into the way you treat others. After all, if God had not been tenderhearted with us, none of us would stand a chance. But because He forgave, we can forgive—and because He loved, we can love. Who knows, your act of kindness or forgiveness might be the very thing someone needs to draw them to the Heavenly Father and change their eternity.  

The other day, I went into full meltdown mode. I mean, a panic-stricken, no-holds-barred temper tantrum. I’ll spare you the details, but in short, I let my circumstances take control. I worried about providing for my family. I second-guessed every decision. I carried fears that felt far too heavy. I even questioned whether I truly loved God or was worthy to be called His child. There were tears, a lot of anger, and some deep frustration that poured out like the water flowing over Niagara Falls. 

When the storm passed, I sensed God speaking to my heart. The real issue wasn’t that I didn’t love Him—it was that I had surrendered the battlefield of my mind. My fear and anger had grown because I was setting my thoughts on everything else but Him.

I think you can relate. It’s so easy to get stuck on the temporary—bills, deadlines, disappointments—instead of the eternal. Paul reminds us in Colossians 3:2-3, “Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth. For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” The word Paul uses for “set” (phroneo) is in the present imperative, meaning that it describes a continual action. It means deliberately and continually focusing our thoughts on Christ. It might mean we need to do it a thousand times a day. The point is to keep doing it.

That’s the real struggle of the Christian life: our thinking. The enemy often chooses our minds as the battlefield, and if we leave our thoughts unchecked, they can derail our walk with God. But the good news is we don’t fight alone. Our lives are secure—hidden with Christ.

So the next time anxious or negative thoughts flood in, pause and ask yourself, “Where am I setting my mind right now?” Then shift your focus. Open Scripture, whisper a prayer, or speak God’s promises out loud. Even jot Colossians 3:2 on a card or in your phone. And when fear rises, remind yourself: My life is hidden with Christ—even on manic Mondays when a full-blown meltdown seems to be in order.

Do you recall the moment when the Word of God first touched your heart? For me, it was a fall Sunday morning when I was twelve. The pastor was preaching on sin and repentance, and I realized for the first time that while God loved me, there was a problem. Even though I was a “good boy” most of the time, I still needed Him to forgive my sin and make me a new creation.

The Old Testament tells us about King Josiah, who ascended to the throne at the tender age of eight. Years later, while repairing the temple, his workers discovered a forgotten scroll of God’s law. When the words were read to him, Josiah’s heart broke, and he wept. His response of repentance changed not only his life but also the direction of an entire nation (2 Kings 22).

How different this is from the world we live in today. We prefer sermons that entertain us, words that encourage us, and teachings that flatter us. But somewhere along the way, we have lost the ability for the Word of God to break our hearts. Yet Scripture reminds us that without repentance, there is no real relationship with God. Acts 3:19 (NKJV) says, “Repent therefore and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord.”

That “refreshing” comes only when we are willing to be broken before Him. Repentance isn’t something we do just once at salvation—it’s a daily posture of humility before God. If we want to see Him move in our lives, our families, and our communities, we must allow His Word to search us, expose hidden places, and bring us back to Himself. When we let repentance soften our hearts, we don’t just find forgiveness—we discover the life, freedom, and refreshing presence of the Lord.