Serving Joy in a Jar

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Philippians 2:4 – “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

The car ride home from the hospital was quiet. Eleven-year-old Jessie Joy Rees was curled up in the back seat, her soft knit cap slipping down over her eyes.

Her parents were worn out. They had just watched their daughter endure another round of chemotherapy. No one spoke for a while. Then Jessie broke the silence with a question that changed everything.

“What about the kids who don’t get to go home?”

They had no answer. They were still trying to hold themselves together. But Jessie was not waiting for anyone else to lead. She had already decided what to do.

That evening, they found her in the kitchen, surrounded by toys from her room and five brown paper lunch bags. She was writing cheerful notes in bright marker.

“You are brave.” “Keep smiling.” “Never give up.”

At her next appointment, Jessie brought the bags with her. The hospital staff smiled and offered a few guidelines. The bags became jars—clear, colorful containers filled with new toys, crafts, and other kid-friendly treasures, all meant to brighten a long hospital stay.

That was how Jessie’s Joy Jars were born.

She packed more than 3,000 jars in just ten months. Their garage transformed into a joy workshop. Word spread. Families joined in. Hospitals took notice. And children who had stopped smiling began to smile again.

But the jars were never just about the toys. They told a deeper story—one of a little girl who refused to let a diagnosis define her. Her kindness did.

And so can you.

If you are walking through something dark today, remember: love does not need perfect conditions to show up. It only needs someone willing. Jessie was. And her life still says what words sometimes cannot.

There is always a way to give joy.

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From Wandering to Worship

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Romans 5:8 – “But God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Robert Robinson had a reputation — wild, sharp-witted, never one to stay in the same place for too long.

He spent his teenage years chasing whatever kept the silence away. Friends, noise, drink, distraction — anything to stay out of his own head.

But the ache always followed him.

One Sunday, he decided to visit a local revival. He did not walk into that tent looking for anything holy. He was there because his friends were, and the noise inside him had gotten too loud. But something shifted when he heard the preacher speak — not about rules or guilt, but about a kind of love that did not flinch when it met a broken person.

That night, Robert believed. He took a step toward something better, and he gave his life to Jesus.

But change did not come easy. The old pull stayed strong. Doubt crept in. He still felt like the boy who could not get it right. So, one evening, he sat with all of it and wrote what he was too tired to pretend about anymore: “Prone to wander Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love”

That line, honest and worn, became a hymn. “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” was not written from a mountaintop. It came from the valley and from a man who still wrestled with the weight of being human.

The hymn endures because it is true. Most of us, at some point, feel like we have wandered too far, but grace does not keep score. Grace stays put. It waits for you, steady as ever.

If you feel far off, hear this: you are not disqualified. You are not too late, and the One who loved Robert back home has not stopped reaching for you.

 

COME THOU FOUNT

Come, Thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy, never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount, I’m fixed upon it
Mount of Thy redeeming love

Here I raise mine Ebenezer
Hither by Thy help I’m come
And I hope by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home
Jesus sought me when a stranger
Wand’ring from the fold of God
He, to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood

And, O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter
Bind my wand’ring heart to Thee
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here’s my heart, Lord, take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts-

Above all else, I adore Your name
Above all else, tune my heart to sing Your praise
Above all else, I adore Your name
Above all else, tune my heart to sing Your praise
Above all else, I adore Your name
Above all else, tune my heart to sing Your praise, oh
Above all else, I adore Your name
Above all else, tune my heart to sing Your praise

The highest praise, the loudest praise
To the Name above every name
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here’s my heart, Lord, take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above

Songwriters: Shane Barnard
Come Thou Fount (Above All Else) lyrics © Songs From Wellhouse

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The Gift Inside the Interruption

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James 4:8 — “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.”

What in your life right now feels like an interruption? What is a distraction to you?

I was reading the other day about Jesus’s walk to Golgotha—His path to the cross—and I had to stop and sit with it. The scene is hard to take in. His back had already been torn open from the flogging.

He was bruised, bleeding, and barely able to stand. The crowd was loud, vicious. Dust kicked up under the weight of every step, and Jesus—exhausted—stumbled under the heavy beam pressing into His raw skin.

That was the road to Calvary.

And somewhere along that brutal road, a man named Simon happened to be passing by.

Simon had come all the way from North Africa to Jerusalem for Passover. That was no small trip.  He had come for worship, tradition, maybe time with his family. And then—without warning—he was swept into this scene of violence and confusion.

And before he could piece it all together, they were pointing at him. “You. Carry this man’s cross.”

I tried to picture it. Was Simon annoyed? Confused? Embarrassed? Did he feel the eyes of strangers on him, wondering what he had done to deserve this? Scripture does not tell us what Simon said or how he felt—but I can’t help but wonder if this man knew what he was about to be a part of.

Because no one walks beside Jesus like that and walks away unchanged.

And what amazes me is that Simon’s interruption was life changing, not only for him, but for us too. He was part of this powerful, magnificent, life-changing story of the crucifixion of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

And it makes me think—how many times have I complained about things I never asked for. A change in plans. A difficult person. A road I did not want to walk. But what if those are not just disruptions? What if they are invitations to draw nearer to God?

Friend, I do not know what has interrupted your life lately. Maybe it is something you never saw coming. Maybe it feels heavy, or lonely, or just plain unfair. But what if—right in the middle of it—God is drawing you close?

You do not have to have it all figured out. You do not have to wait until it makes sense. But what would it look like to take one small step toward Jesus, even while the dust is still settling and your arms still ache from the weight of what you carry?

Ask Him what He is doing through it. Let Him speak to you in the silence, in the waiting, in the in-between. You never know how God will use that distraction to change you forever, and maybe even the course of history.

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When Faith Is Fun Again

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Psalms 16:11 — “You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

It started with a bag of pretzels and a quiet parking lot. I was sitting with my car engine off while finishing a snack before heading home. That was when a dad and his two young kids came out of the store.

I was not trying to stare, but they caught my eye. There was something about the way they moved—like they were late for a plane. But they were not running.

Oh no. They were speed walking.

I mean it. Elbows bent, legs moving in exaggerated strides, eyes locked on their destination: the family car. It was so dramatic that I laughed out loud because it hit me—they were racing for the front seat.

Of course they were.

The younger one kept glancing over at his sibling to measure the gap, then picked up his pace. He was still technically “not running,” likely because their dad had told them not to. That just made it funnier.

And suddenly, I was seven again. My brother and I did the same thing. We would fling open the store doors and speed walk like our lives depended on it. Riding shot gun was sacred. You got to sit by Mom. You controlled the radio. And best of all, the coldest blast of AC hit you first.

I smiled at the memory. Then, a different thought crept in.

When was the last time I brought that kind of energy into my faith? That full-hearted, joy-soaked, eyes-on-the-prize kind of intentionality? It struck me because I think a lot of people can relate.

Somewhere along the way, faith can start to feel heavy. We forget that God calls us not just to run the race, but to enjoy it—to walk with Him not only seriously, but joyfully.

We need both. Steady purpose and deep delight. Obedience with laughter. Reverence that still knows how to smile. That is the kind of pursuit that changes you.

Are you moving toward God with that kind of energy? Are you making room for joy along the way? Do not pick between the two. There is power when you choose both.

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Help Is Already on the Way

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Psalms 40:2 – “He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.”

The morning seemed like any other—peaceful, calm, and routine. But then, out of nowhere, chaos struck.

Two workers at a chocolate factory in Pennsylvania found themselves in a situation no one could have expected. They were waist-deep in a vat of thick, swirling chocolate.

At first, it didn’t feel real. They both slipped and thought it was a simple mistake, something that could be laughed off later. But as they tried to move, the chocolate transformed from an innocent, sweet substance into a gooey trap, pulling them deeper and deeper.

Fear set in quickly. They tried to reach the edges, to find something solid to hold onto, but the chocolate was relentless. The sticky, suffocating mass seemed to mock their every move, and desperation crept in. What if they didn’t make it out?

Thankfully, help did come, but it was not easy. Firefighters couldn’t just grab them and pull them to safety. No, they had to cut through the vat. It was messy, but it was effective.

In the end, the men were safe. No harm done. But the memory was haunting. How easy is it to get stuck in life and not know where to turn?

I can’t count how many times I have been there—overwhelmed and desperate for a way out. When life wraps around us like that, we panic. We try to fix things on our own, and the more we struggle, the worse it seems.

But here’s the truth: help is on the way, even when it feels like the situation is hopeless. Just like those workers had no way out on their own, help came through.

So, if you’re stuck, if you’re feeling trapped, know this: you are not alone. Don’t give up, and don’t fight alone. Reach out to the Jesus. His help is sure even when you can’t see it yet.

His word is true, and His love is constant. When we reach out to Him, He answers. He promises to pull you from the muck and place your feet on solid ground.

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Peace Starts With Perspective

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Psalms 107:1 — “Oh give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever!”

The AC gave out in the middle of a Louisiana summer afternoon, which is just about the worst timing possible. I was in our bedroom, stuffing pajamas into a suitcase and trying not to lose my cool, emotionally and physically.

We were packing up to stay at my husband’s parents’ house for a few days. While our house was basically a sauna, theirs at least had working air.

I was grumbling under my breath as I packed. This was not just about busted AC. I was tired of things not going smoothly and the endless to-do lists that never shrunk. I was frustrated from feeling stuck in places I thought I would have outgrown by now.

It was like the broken AC had cracked open a door I had been trying to hold shut.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, suitcase half-zipped, and started praying. It was not the sweet kind of prayers. No, it was an honest, messy pouring out of everything I was carrying. I told God how tired I was, how heavy it all felt.

In the quiet that followed, I felt Him meet me there, not with shame but with clarity. He helped me notice what I had missed in my storm of frustration: my complaining was not changing anything, but it was changing me.

I realized my peace was slipping through my fingers, and in its place, distress was robbing me of joy. In that moment I remembered: my family was safe, we were loved, and we had extended family willing to opening their home to us. Oh, the heat was real, but so was the goodness I had been missing in my spiral.

I could keep circling that same drain of frustration, or I could climb out (slowly, but intentionally) by choosing gratitude.

So, I took a breath, counted ten, and started counting the good. Not out loud, just in my heart. And I could feel it already—something in me softening.

Friends, gratitude may not fix your circumstance, but it reshapes the soul. It steadies you, lifts you head, and clears the fog. So, if you are feeling stuck in what is not right, maybe what you need is not a change in situation, but a change in perspective.

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Running Back to Love

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Romans 8:38-39 – “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

I wasn’t always the frilly-dress type. When I was eleven, I was happiest with a BB gun in my hand, barefoot in the backyard, trying to see how many things I could hit before supper.

My daddy had built our barbecue grill out of a 55-gallon drum. It was welded together like a tank and sat right next to the sliding glass door leading into our living room.

For some reason I decided it would be a good idea to aim at that old drum grill.

So, I aimed, I fired, and I missed.

That BB zipped past the grill and hit the sliding glass door square-on. It exploded and shattered into a kaleidoscope of a million pieces. The bang rang out across the whole yard, and my stomach flipped.

I dropped the gun and took off running, full speed, to my friend Tracy’s house next door. Now, we lived out in the country so her house was about half a mile away. But I decided that I would now need to live with Tracy and her family. I knew Mom and Dad were going to be furious.

You can guess what happened next. Tracy’s mama called mine. And Mama, in the most calm, matter-of-fact voice, said, “Send her back.”

I walked home slowly. Shoulders tight. I was ready to pay the piper, and I figured I had it coming. But what met me was not the fury I expected—it was love.

Sure, my parents were upset, but they wrapped me up in their arms and said, “That glass can be replaced. You cannot.”

There are some lessons you carry into adulthood, and for me, that is one of them.

I still mess up and still flinch when I know I have let someone down. But the older I get, the more I see it—God is not watching from a distance, waiting to punish me. He is the One who meets me at the door with love. Every time.

He knows what shattered, and He still wants you.

You are not replaceable. You are not forgotten. You are loved beyond measure, and you always have a place to come home.

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Sox and All

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Proverbs 3:27 — “Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it.”

I came across a story recently that’s been sitting with me ever since.

A woman named Jane Arndt was driving her regular bus route when she saw someone standing barefoot on the hot pavement. Her clothes were worn, her hair tangled—someone the world had stopped noticing.

Without thinking twice, Jane slipped off her own shoes and handed them to the woman. “They’re not new,” she said, “but they’ll keep your feet from burning.” Then she got back behind the wheel—socks and all—and kept going.

Another passenger, who had once been homeless, wiped a tear from her eye and whispered, “She sees her.”

That moment has stayed with me. Because love like that—love that notices, that moves, that gives—does something more than help. It heals. It tells someone they matter.

Proverbs 3:27 says, “Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act.” Most days, we have more power than we think—a kind word, a small gift, a few seconds of courage. And when we use that power to see and serve someone else, we reflect the heart of Jesus.

So today, let’s not hold back.
Let’s not wait.
Let’s be willing to give up a little comfort, so someone else can take a step forward.

That kind of love? It changes everything.

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The Unbreakable House of the Lord

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1 Corinthians 3:16 — “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?”

Do you remember the day the world shut down? It felt like a single, collective gasp. Stores closed their doors, streets emptied, and even the churches locked their gates.

I remember standing there, staring at my calendar that had just gone blank. Concerts, church services, small group gatherings—canceled overnight. Plans evaporated, and the sense of normalcy we clung to vanished in an instant.

I asked myself, “What does church look like now?”

But then I started to notice the small things. My wife’s smile as we walked the neighborhood. A neighbor’s wave from a safe distance. A phone call that turned into an unexpected lifeline. Even behind masks, I saw the same eyes of kindness and compassion that had always been there.

It dawned on me that the house of the Lord was not bricks and wood. It was us—ordinary people carrying God’s presence into the everyday. COVID-19 did not cancel that. It revealed it.

That was the moment my song “House of the Lord” came to life. I wanted to sing about the real church. It’s the one that cannot be shut down by a virus or anything else. It’s a family that laughs and cries together, that keeps showing up even when the world feels shaky.

Even with the “new normal” now behind us, I keep hearing “House of the Lord” on the radio, and I remember that the truest kind of worship is not found in the stage or the pew. It is found wherever we choose to love each other, to stand together, and to encourage each other in the Lord.

The body of Christ is a family that stands strong through every season. That is the house of the Lord, and it is waiting for you to find your place in it, no matter where you are today.

— Phil Wickham

Lyrics

Verse
We worship the God who was
We worship the God who is
We worship the God who evermore will be
He opened the prison doors
He parted the raging sea
Our God He holds the victory

Chorus
There’s joy In the house of the Lord
There’s joy in the house of the Lord today
And we won’t be quiet
We shout out Your praise
There’s Joy in the house of the Lord
Our God is surely in this place
And we won’t be quiet
We shout out Your praise
We shout out Your praise

Verse
We sing to the God who heals
We sing to the God who saves
We sing to the God who always makes a way
He hung upon that cross
Then He rose up from that grave
My God’s still rolling stones away

Chorus
There’s joy In the house of the Lord
There’s joy in the house of the Lord today
And we won’t be quiet
We shout out Your praise
There’s Joy in the house of the Lord
Our God is surely in this place
And we won’t be quiet
We shout out Your praise

Bridge
We were the beggars
Now we’re royalty
We were the prisoners
Now we’re running free
We are forgiven, accepted
Redeemed by His grace
Let the house of the Lord sing praise

Cause we were the beggars
Now we’re royalty
We were the prisoners
Now we’re running free
We are forgiven, accepted
Redeemed by His grace
Let the house of the Lord sing praise

Chorus
There’s joy In the house of the Lord
There’s joy in the house of the Lord today
And we won’t be quiet
We shout out Your praise
There’s Joy in the house of the Lord
Our God is surely in this place
And we won’t be quiet
We shout out Your praise

There’s joy In the house of the Lord
There’s joy in the house of the Lord today
And we won’t be quiet
We shout out Your praise
There’s Joy in the house of the Lord
Our God is surely in this place
And we won’t be quiet
We shout out Your praise
We shout out Your praise
We shout out Your praise
We shout out Your praise

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Speak Even If They Aren’t Listening

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Colossians 4:5-6 – Walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.

I was on a flight from New York City, heading home to visit my family in Florida, and I remember the man sitting beside me as clear as day.

There he was—this big, friendly, joyful African American man with his Bible open on the tray table in front of him. He smiled and said hello, and we started talking like old friends. Turned out he was a pastor.

I was young then, rambling on and on about my dreams of becoming a movie star, and he listened like every word mattered.

Then he paused and asked the simplest, most disarming question: “Do you know who God is?” Not in a forceful way. Just kind and curious. Then he asked, “What if what you want is not actually the best thing? What if God has more?”

I laughed—not because it was ridiculous, but because I knew what I wanted. And I honestly did not care.

That sweet man did not even flinch, like he had seen a hundred versions of me before. He just smiled again.

“I’ll be praying for you,” he said.

That flight was twenty years ago, and I have thought about him more times than I can count. I never got his name, but I wish I could find him now. He was the first person who dared to interrupt my self-made plan with the possibility of something more.

And he did it with kindness.

I would love to tell him what God has done. I would love to tell him his prayer was not wasted.

So let me tell you—if you are loving someone, praying for them, or sharing what you believe and it feels like they are not listening, please hang in there. That moment matters more than you know. The kindness. The courage. The seed planted in faith. It might take years to grow, but God knows how to bring it to life.

Keep showing up. Someone like me is counting on it.

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