Galatians 5:22-23 — But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Is there something that you struggle with that you just love, so much but you know that you’re enjoying it a little too much? I know I do.

For me, it has been ice cream. And no, I am not pregnant. It has just been comforting. The kind of comfort that shows up right on time, night after night, after the day finally calms down. It has become part of my bedtime routine.

One night, I was standing there with the freezer door open, spoon already in my hand, reaching for Blue Bell. And I realized something uncomfortable. I was already counting on it to fix the day. I had not even taken a bite yet, and I was expecting relief.

I remember thinking, “Oh, I don’t like that.”

I still filled the bowl with the ooey gooey, frozen goodness. I still ate it, but the thought stayed with me. Not in a dramatic way. Just enough to make me pay attention. It felt like something small had quietly become a little too important.

So when the bowl was empty, I made a decision. Just for a month, I would let it go.

A few days later, I stood in the grocery store freezer aisle, staring straight at the Rocky Road and forcing myself to keep walking. I laughed under my breath and said it felt worse than a breakup.

That’s silly. Yes, I know. But it helped me name what was happening. This was not really about food. It was about learning to notice what I rely on for comfort.

Back at home, I leaned into other things I loved. I baked zucchini bread and banana bread. I filled my kitchen with familiar smells and warmth. And without the nightly ice-cream habit, I realized I was not missing anything. I felt lighter. More present. Not restricted, just more aware.

It turns out this was never about dessert. It was about remembering that I am not ruled by habits or cravings. Scripture talks about self-control as one of the many fruits worth growing in our lives by the help of the Holy Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23). Learning to practice self control was not punishment. No. Instead, God was doing this so that I could discover the fruit of His Spirit was sweeter and worth forming in my life.

It makes me wonder if there is something small you might pause for a season too. Not forever. Just long enough to notice what fills the space. The month will end. Ice cream will still be there, and I will enjoy it again. But I am grateful for what I learned along the way. Sometimes the lesson is not loud. It is simply waiting to be noticed.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Is there something small in your life that has quietly become a source of comfort or control for you?
  • What might it look like to pause from that thing for a season—not as punishment, but as awareness?
  • Which fruit of the Spirit do you sense God wanting to grow more deeply in your life right now?
  • How does it change your perspective to remember that self-control is something the Holy Spirit produces in you, not something you have to force on your own?
  • What space might God be inviting you to notice or fill differently as you lean into His Spirit?

2 Timothy 1:7 — For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

I woke up with that familiar tightness in my chest—the kind that makes the morning feel heavier than it should. My hands shook slightly as I poured my coffee, and for a moment, I wondered if something was wrong with me.

I kept telling myself I shouldn’t feel fear.
I’m supposed to be strong.
I’m supposed to be steady.

But the truth was obvious: I wasn’t.

I sat in the chair by the window and whispered the questions I didn’t have answers for.
Why do I feel like this?
Where is all this anxiety coming from?

And then, quietly, Scripture met me right where I was.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”

That verse didn’t shame me for feeling afraid. It reminded me where fear didn’t come from—and where my strength did.

As I repeated the words out loud, something shifted. The knots in my chest loosened. My breathing slowed. Peace didn’t rush in all at once, but it settled—steady and sure. I remembered that fear wasn’t my inheritance. Courage wasn’t something I had to manufacture. God had already placed His Spirit within me.

And I’ll be honest—I may or may not have walked around the room telling that fear exactly where it could go.

By the time I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, nothing in my schedule had changed. But I had. Because God’s Spirit—powerful, loving, and steady—was stronger than my anxiety ever could be.

Later that day, I found myself telling friends about it.

“God’s Spirit is amazing,” I said. “He was stronger than my fear—and I didn’t have to pull courage out of thin air. It was already living in me.”

And that’s what I want you to hear today, too.

If you woke up anxious, overwhelmed, or unsure—know this: fear is not what God gave you. His Spirit lives in you. And I’ve never seen a battle He couldn’t handle.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When fear shows up for you, what does it usually sound like or feel like?
  • How does knowing fear is not from God change the way you respond to it?
  • Which part of 2 Timothy 1:7 do you need most right now—power, love, or a sound mind?
  • What would it look like to speak God’s truth out loud the next time anxiety creeps in?
  • How can you remind yourself daily that God’s Spirit already lives within you?

Galatians 5:14 — For the whole law can be summed up in this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.

In a department store crowded with shoppers and twinkling lights, a little girl’s cry pierced the air. She was sitting in a shopping cart, face red, blotchy. Her tiny fists were curled tight.

Her mother crouched beside her, whispering reassuring words but nothing seemed to comfort her. The woman’s shoulders were braced because she knew she was carrying not just her child, but the judgmental glances of everyone around her.

Shoppers sidestepped them and hurried past.

Then a boy, no older than four-years-old appeared from the next aisle over. He ran toward the crying girl he had never met and wrapped her in a hug. There was absolutely no hesitation in this.

Then the crying stopped. Within seconds the toddler was giggling again.

The mother covered her mouth, and that is when she began to cry. It was just a hug, but it calmed the storm going on inside that anxious mother’s heart.

I have told this story to friends before, and every time, I catch myself imagining the love it takes to step toward someone else’s chaos. The boy did not lecture, he did not calculate, he simply noticed and acted.

That is exactly what Scripture calls us to do: “For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” (Galatians 5:14).

It struck me that small gestures carry immense weight. Peace does not always arrive with grand plans or elaborate words. Sometimes, it comes in the form of a hug from a stranger, a kind word, or a hand offered when someone is struggling.

As I reflect on it now, I realize how often I hesitate. How many moments pass me by because I am afraid to step in? And yet, if one four-year-old can quiet a storm, what might we accomplish if we simply move toward each other instead of away?

The next time someone near you is struggling, consider this: a small act of care, offered without expectation, can make a world of a difference in their life. More than you’ll ever know.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When you notice someone else’s struggle, do you tend to step closer or quietly move on? What usually holds you back?
  • Think of a time when a small act of kindness changed your day. How did it affect you emotionally or spiritually?
  • Who might be feeling overwhelmed, judged, or unseen around you right now — at home, work, or even while running errands?
  • What simple act of love could you offer today without overthinking it — a word, a gesture, or your presence?
  • How might loving your neighbor “as yourself” look different this season if you responded with compassion before calculation?

Ephesians 4:29 — Don’t use foul or abusive language. Let everything you say be good and helpful, so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them.

So, I am crouched down on the driveway, tossing jackets and bags like I am searching for buried treasure. My keys are gone.

I had driven five hours to see my best friend, imagining quiet mornings with coffee and conversation, but now panic pins me to the pavement. I picture my cat pacing back and forth at home. I picture missing work and the long explanations that follow. Every possible disaster blooms in my mind.

The roadside helper arrives. His coat is dusted with white. A soft glow from the lights reflects in the windshield behind him. He does not sigh or flinch. He asks calm, simple questions like “Where did you last have them?”

He listens while I spill the story of my scattered morning. He does not rush me. He does not make me feel foolish. Almost like a cup of cocoa, his warm presence feels comforting. And for the first time in an hour, I can breathe.

Of course, the keys were exactly where I had left them, under the windshield wipers on my friend’s car. Relief rushes through me. I laugh at myself. But more than relief, I feel so thankful for how that jolly, gentle, AAA man treated me. It felt like a gift.

Looking back on that whole thing, I feel reminded that words matter. Tone matters. How we show up for people in stressful situations matters.

Ephesians 4:29 teaches us, “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.”

Now, in this season of twinkling lights and cinnamon-scented candles, I think about how easy it is for holiday stress to make us spiral. Maybe the best gift we can give today that matters most is not wrapped in a box.

Maybe it comes from a calm Christ-like voice, your steady presence, and your hands reaching out with confident kindness to people who need reassurance.

Who in your life might need that gift this year?

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When stress rises, how do your words tend to sound? What would it look like to pause and let your voice become a source of calm instead of pressure?
  • Who in your life might need gentle, encouraging words today — someone overwhelmed, anxious, or carrying more than they admit?
  • Think of a time someone spoke kindness to you when you felt stressed or scattered. How did it change the moment? How could you offer that same gift this week?
  • What simple shift could help your conversations reflect more of Jesus — your tone, your patience, or your willingness to listen?
  • How might God be inviting you to use your voice as a way to bring peace, comfort, and hope into someone’s holiday season?

Romans 12:13 — When God’s people are in need, be ready to help them. Always be eager to practice hospitality.

We just love our teachers. Don’t you. They work so hard. They are so awesome. I say that often—but sometimes, I meet someone who reminds me exactly why I mean it.

There is a teacher I know who started noticing one of her sixth graders lingering in the hallway after school. Every day, she would see him there—quiet, backpack hanging off one shoulder, tracing circles on the tile with his shoe while the building emptied.

At first, she figured he was just killing time. But then she learned his mother worked late, leaving him with nowhere to go, no snacks, and no one to help with homework.

It would have been easy to send him to the office or tell him to wait outside. But she did something small that turned out to be extraordinary. She opened her classroom, made a mug of hot cocoa from her own kitchen, and invited him in. They sat side by side, working through math problems that once felt impossible to him.

Soon, the word spread.

Two kids became five. Five became a dozen. Parents started dropping off snacks. Local businesses sent supplies. And the laughter of children began spilling out into the hallway where silence used to be.

That empty room transformed into a safe place for students to learn, belong, and feel loved. They called it the Homework and Hot Chocolate Club.

I watched that story unfold and thought, “This is what love looks like in motion. It is not grand or complicated. It starts with a single open door, and a simple ‘you can hang out here.’”

It reminds me of the verse in Romans 12, “When God’s people are in need, be ready to help them. Always be eager to practice hospitality.”

That’s exactly what this teacher did. She didn’t wait for a program or a plan. She just opened her hands to what God placed right in front of her.

And it leaves me asking myself—what if the simplest way to show love is to offer what is already in our hands, trusting God to turn a cup of cocoa into someone else’s miracle?

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • How can you show hospitality or care in small, practical ways this week?
  • Are there people in your community who may need a safe space or simple encouragement that you could provide?
  • How does this story challenge your understanding of what it means to “practice hospitality” in everyday life?

Matthew 14:27 — But Jesus spoke to them at once. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Take courage. I am here!”

When I was a little girl, I got to go to Yankee Stadium. My dad was taking us to watch the major league team in action, and I could hardly take it all in.

The city roared all around us. Taxis honked, people rushed past, and voices echoed off the tall buildings. I remember clutching my little purse so tightly.

Dad told me to wear it across my chest so no one could steal it. Then he reached down, wrapped his hand around mine, and led me toward the stadium. His hand was strong, steady, and sure.

We moved through a sea of people, but I never felt afraid.

Dad’s grip didn’t loosen, not even for a second. He watched every step ahead of us, making sure I stayed close. I remember the way he would tilt his head back just to check on me. There was no mistaking it—he was not letting go of his little girl.

That memory has stayed with me all these years later. It’s a snapshot I can still feel, because that is exactly how God is with us.

He holds our hand tightly with His right hand, drawing us close to His heart. He guides us when we cannot see where we’re going. He shields us when the world feels too loud and uncertain. His promises do not fade with time, and His hold does not weaken when the road gets crowded.

Sometimes, I still feel like that little girl in a world too big to handle. But when I slow down long enough to notice God’s hand holding mine, I realize I am still being led—and still being held.

And maybe that is what He’s been whispering all along: “Don’t be afraid, Take courage. I am here.”

Gratitude begins right there—in the middle of the chaos, with the steady reminder that we are not walking alone. His hand is still sure, His presence still near, and His heart still set on us.

And when you really see that, thankfulness becomes the most natural thing in the world.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When have you felt like the world was too big or overwhelming? How does the image of God holding your hand change that perspective?
  • What fears are you carrying today that need to be placed into God’s care?
  • How can you practice noticing God’s presence and guidance in everyday life, even amid chaos?

Psalm 100:4 — Enter His gates with thanksgiving; go into His courts with praise. Give thanks to Him and praise His name.

I woke up this morning before the sun. I sat at the kitchen table with my coffee and just listened—to the hum of the refrigerator, the wind brushing the trees outside, and the slow ticking of the clock.

And I realized how easy it is to forget that life is full of small, wonderful, everyday gifts.

Gratitude hit me then. I try to take deep breaths and practice this every day because I know gratitude is not just a nice idea. It is a lifeline.

It’s not just for Thanksgiving or when everything finally falls into place. Gratitude is how you hold steady when life is messy. When bills are overdue. When relationships are strained. When your energy is gone and your prayers feel like whispers into the wind.

Even then, God hasn’t left.

He has been faithful all along, and that’s a promise you can rely on.

I thought about Psalm 100:4: “Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise. Give thanks to Him and bless His name.”

The verse is a way I protect my heart. It keeps my spirit grounded and steadies me when my world feels crazy. Every sunrise, every warm cup of coffee, every answered prayer—even the small ones—is proof that His goodness never stops.

That’s why gratitude is one of my favorite spiritual weapons that God gives.

Some days, it’s hard to remember. I don’t always start off this well, but I know I can start any place and any time. Right here. Right now.

I can choose to focus on all the good things I see around me, even the ones wrapped in the hard parts of life. Because staying grateful isn’t ignoring the struggle; it’s trusting God with it.

So today, I want you to try it too. Look around. Name one small blessing, then another. Let gratitude remind you that God is still good, still present, still faithful. Let it steady your heart. Let it anchor your spirit.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll notice that the same God who has never left you is making miracles out of the ordinary, and giving you a reason to keep moving forward with hope.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What are some small blessings around you right now that you may have overlooked lately?
  • How can gratitude shift your focus when life feels uncertain or overwhelming?
  • In what ways has God shown His faithfulness to you recently, even in the hard seasons?
  • How might practicing daily gratitude deepen your connection with God and others?
  • What does “entering His gates with thanksgiving” look like in your life today?

Lyrics:

All my words fall short
I got nothing new
How could I express
All my gratitude?

I could sing these songs
As I often do
But every song must end
And You never do

So I throw up my hands
And praise You again and again
‘Cause all that I have is a hallelujah
Hallelujah

And I know it’s not much
But I’ve nothing else fit for a King
Except for a heart singing hallelujah
Hallelujah

I’ve got one response
I’ve got just one move
With my arm stretched wide
I will worship You

So I throw up my hands
And praise You again and again
‘Cause all that I have is a hallelujah
Hallelujah

And I know it’s not much
But I’ve nothing else fit for a King
Except for a heart singing hallelujah
Hallelujah

So come on, my soul
Oh, don’t you get shy on me
Lift up your song
‘Cause you’ve got a lion inside of those lungs
Get up and praise the Lord

Hebrews 11:1 — Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. 

Running was the only thing that made sense back then.

I was jogging down an unfamiliar road, lungs on fire, legs shaking, but none of that compared to what I was feeling on the inside.

This was twenty years ago, not long after Katrina. I was living in a place that didn’t feel like home, surrounded by streets that held no memories. I told myself the run would help clear my mind, but grief doesn’t work that way. You can’t outrun the ache of what’s been lost. Everything I knew—my city, my neighborhood, my entire life—had been swallowed up by water.

Each step reminded me that I was in a place I hadn’t chosen. But Hebrews 11:1 says, ‘Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.’ That day, I realized I had to trust God even when I couldn’t see the full picture.

Even now, when I think about the streets of New Orleans where I grew up, something still catches in my throat. That feeling of having “hometown” ripped away from you, deep down in my heart, I know I will always struggle with it.

But that morning, I had my earbuds in, half-listening to a playlist, when a new song came on. It was Casting Crowns’ “Praise You in This Storm.”

No, I didn’t have a huge emotional breaking point or anything that day on the track, but the verses really touched me. I remembered slowing my pace to a stop to listen to the words. During that break, I just let the powerful lyrics of that song wash over me and my pain.

“And I’ll praise You in this storm

And I will lift my hands

For You are who You are

No matter where I am…”

That song became a lifeline in those long, lonely days after the storm. The timing of it, how it showed up right when my faith felt like splinters, wasn’t coincidence. It was God’s grace.

It was as if God Himself whispered, “I know what you see, but I need you to see Me in this too.”

And somehow, I did. Not through my eyes—they still saw devastation—but through a confidence that He was still good, still present, and still holding me when everything else had fallen apart.

Have you ever watched something crumble all around you like that and think “there’s no way good can come from this?” And yet, deep down, a small voice tells you to believe anyway?

That’s God, and that’s faith. It’s the unseen hope that carries you when you can’t carry yourself. And the remarkable thing is, God never leaves you there.

He keeps writing a better story, even when the page you’re on looks nothing like the ending you hoped for.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Have you ever faced a situation where you couldn’t see the outcome, yet felt God prompting you to trust Him? How did you respond?
  • Hebrews 11:1 speaks of faith as “the assurance of things hoped for.” What are some “things hoped for” in your life that require faith to hold onto?
  • How has music, prayer, or another form of encouragement helped you experience God’s presence in unseen ways?
  • What does it look like for you to praise God “in the storm” rather than only when things are calm?
  • How might you remind yourself of God’s unseen work when your circumstances feel overwhelming or uncertain?

Lyrics:

I was sure by now, God you would have reached down
And wiped our tears away,
Stepped in and saved the day.
But once again, I say amen
That it’s still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear your whisper through the rain
I’m with you
And as your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
The God who gives and takes away

And I’ll praise you in this storm
And I will lift my hands
That you are who you are
No matter where I am
And every tear I’ve cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise you in this storm

I remember when I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone how can I carry on
If I can’t find you
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear you whisper through the rain
I’m with you
And as your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
The God who gives and takes away

And I’ll praise you in this storm
And I will lift my hands
That you are who you are
No matter where I am
And every tear I’ve cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise you in this storm

I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The maker of heaven and earth
I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The maker of heaven and earth

And I’ll praise you in this storm
And I will lift my hands
That you are who you are
No matter where I am
And every tear I’ve cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise you in this storm

And though my heart is torn
I will praise you in this storm

Written by: Mark Hall, Bernie Herms

Psalm 37:5Commit everything you do to the LORD. Trust Him, and He will help you.

Mark was never one for church. He liked his weekends quiet, his plans organized, and his problems solved on his own terms. But when his marriage ended, all that order fell apart. The walls of his apartment started to feel smaller, the silence heavier. He could fix a lot of things, but not this.

One night, he went for a drive just to escape the stillness. He passed a small church with its lights glowing against the dark. Something about it made him stop.

Inside, a man offered him coffee, a woman smiled, and nobody asked him to explain himself. He did not realize it then, but that was the first thing that felt right in a long time.

The next Sunday, someone remembered his name. That simple act did more for him than a thousand sermons could have.

As the weeks went on, he started to listen. One Sunday, the pastor spoke about grace—not as something you earn, but something that finds you when your life has gone sideways. He thought about how hard he had worked to hold it all together, how tired he was of pretending.

After the service, he stayed in his seat. The sanctuary was nearly empty. He whispered a few words under his breath. Nothing rehearsed, nothing grand. Just surrender.

“Okay, Jesus.” He said, “I’m yours.”

He walked out the same doors, but something inside was different. The world did not look fixed, but it felt lighter. And maybe that was the point.

Psalm 37:5 teaches us, “Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act. So, Maybe faith is not about having all the answers. Maybe it is about discovering the one who never needed you to.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Can you think of a time when you reached the end of yourself and had no choice but to surrender? What happened when you finally let go?
  • Psalm 37:5 calls us to commit our way to the Lord. What might it look like for you to hand Him something you’ve been trying to control?
  • In Mark’s story, it wasn’t a sermon that moved him—it was kindness and being remembered. How has someone’s simple act of love pointed you back to God?
  • What area of your life still feels “unfixed”? How might trusting God with it bring peace, even before you see the outcome?
  • Surrender can sound scary, but what if it’s really freedom? What would trusting God more fully look like for you this week?

John 13:35 — Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples. 

The move nearly did me in.

First the engine blew, then the tire went flat, and before long, I was stranded on the side of the road. It took twenty hours just to limp the moving van into my new town.

By the time I finally arrived, my own car was sitting abandoned miles away, and I was too tired to even cry about it.

The next morning my phone buzzed. It was my radio friends. They wanted to know if I was okay. I didn’t have the energy to sugarcoat it. I told them everything: about my broke down vehicle and about feelings bone-tired and a little afraid.

Before I knew it, my friends came to my rescue. Not one or two people, but a small army of them. They showed up at my new apartment and got my car to a safe place. They carried boxes, lifted furniture, and encouraged me.

The funny thing is, I never asked. They just came.

And somewhere between the boxes and the laughter, one of them looked at me and said, “Brenda, you’re part of the family now. Your family is here to help you.”

Wow. That’s what it means to be the Church, isn’t it. It’s not a radio slogan. No, it’s real love on display. Sacrificial, supportive, and never missing a beat.

And it makes me wonder: how can I live that out for someone else? How many people are quietly stranded on their own roadside, too tired or too proud to ask for help?

What if we slowed down long enough to notice them? What if we showed up without waiting to be asked?

The truth is, every act of kindness and every burden shared preaches louder than any sermon ever could. Because what we call the body of Christ, I think that’s just another word for family.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When have you experienced someone showing up for you without being asked? How did that reflect God’s love?
  • Who in your life might be quietly struggling right now — and what’s one way you can “show up” for them this week?
  • How does being part of the body of Christ — this family of faith — inspire you to live more generously?