Who Gets Your Yes

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Romans 6:12-13  — Do not let sin control the way you live; do not give in to sinful desires. Do not let any part of your body become an instrument of evil to serve sin. Instead, give yourselves completely to God, for you were dead, but now you have new life. So use your whole body as an instrument to do what is right for the glory of God.

Boink.

That was the sound of me body-slamming my arch enemy.

Luke was built like a seventh grader. My scrawny fifth-grade self had no chance.

I don’t even know why I hated him. I just remember my friends venting about him during our daily bathroom break. Somewhere between their complaints and my own pride, I started praying that God would give me the strength to knock him unconscious.

With great love and mercy, He denied my request.

Instead, I awkwardly flailed around while the entire school drank a big cup of secondhand embarrassment. It ended with me flat on my back in the middle of the kickball field.

But do you know what? My real problem wasn’t Luke. It was my pride and the voices I was listening to.

I wasn’t defending justice. I wasn’t standing up for truth. I was presenting myself—my hands, strength, and energy—to serve that grudge controlling me.

And that’s how it always works.

But that’s not who I am anymore—I’ve been given a new life, and that changes what I do with it.

Sin doesn’t kick the door down. It whispers. It invites. It says, “This will feel good. This will make you strong. This will prove something.”

In scripture, we are warned not to let sin reign in our lives and not to hand over our bodies as an instrument for unrighteousness. Instead, offer yourselves to God—like people who’ve been brought from death to life—and let every part of you become an instrument for what is right.

You see, if we keep letting the wrong things control us, that’s playground theology with adult consequences.

If we don’t decide who we belong to, the loudest voice will decide for us.

Look at Jesus on His way to the cross. The crowd was loud. The pressure was real. The easy path would have been to bend and protect Himself or to give the people what they wanted in the moment.

He didn’t. He refused to let the crowd steer His obedience. He would not offer Himself to the spirit of the mob. Every step He took was aligned with His Father’s will.

Just as Jesus refused to follow the crowd’s destructive voices on His way to the cross, we must resist worldly influences and walk in God’s wisdom instead.

So today I want to encourage you, before you repost, before you repeat the joke, or before you step into that compromising conversation—pause. Ask yourself whose voice you want to follow. Offer your life to God and tune out the rest.

Because sin will always shout, but you don’t have to answer to it.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What voices tend to influence your decisions the most right now?
  • Where are you tempted to react out of pride, frustration, or impulse?
  • What does it look like for you to “offer yourself to God” in a practical, everyday situation?
  • How does remembering your new identity in Christ change the way you respond to temptation?
  • What is one moment today where you can pause and choose God’s way instead of reacting?
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When Having It All Isn’t Enough

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1 Timothy 6:17 — Teach those who are rich in this world not to be proud and not to trust in their money, which is so unreliable. Their trust should be in God, who richly gives us all we need for our enjoyment.

There are certain life experiences that should be mandatory. Waiting tables tops the list.

From screaming kids to screaming adults, you’re spit in the face by the entire spectrum of humanity. Truly, all tribes, tongues, and nations depend on you for a refill.

Toward the end of my time as a server, I encountered a woman I would never forget. She was an older woman wearing a T-shirt that read, “When this pandemic is over, I’m still gonna stay 6ft from some of y’all.” I laughed and asked if she meant it.

How she answered was not what I was expecting.

She shared her life with me. In her seventies, she’d lived lavishly. She had every trip, every relationship, and everything she’d ever wanted. She enjoyed food I’d never heard of and brands I could never afford like it was just normal. Her stories were electric and unbelievable.

Then her smile faded.

She told me about hosting parties — like Great Gatsby–style parties with tons of people, loud music, and endless laughter. And how, when it all ended, she was the one left alone. Standing in the silence. Cleaning up the mess.

And she became bitter.

Somewhere along the way, she stopped needing anyone—and eventually stopped leaving room for God too.

So she cut everyone off. She locked the door and said goodbye to the world around her. She became a hermit by choice.

I was baffled.

As she grabbed her to-go bag, I said, “You should come out of the house more.”

She huffed back, “And why should I do that?”

“Because God created you to be a blessing to others,” I replied.

She cut me off. “Oh honey, I know I’m blessed. But I am done.”

That was the last I ever saw of her.

How sad it is to taste everything the world has to offer and still be left cynical, dissatisfied, and alone. That’s the real tragedy. Not that she got her feelings hurt. Not that life disappointed her.

The tragedy is that she was sold a lie—and believed it. She believed pleasure could sustain her. That indulgence could satisfy her. That if she collected enough experiences, she’d finally arrive and somehow feel full.

But those who are rich in this present world are warned not to be arrogant and not to put their hope in wealth, because wealth is so uncertain. Hope is meant to rest in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.

That truth doesn’t shame pleasure. It puts it in its proper place.

True satisfaction isn’t found in chasing the world’s pleasures—it comes from God, who fills our lives with real joy, wonder, and purpose that never leaves us empty.

God isn’t offering a flashy, hollow life. He offers one that’s grounded and full. He made a breathtaking planet. He wired us for wonder, and He gave us joy. Pleasure was never the problem. Putting our hope in it was.

God isn’t trying to rob your joy. He’s trying to anchor it somewhere it can last.

So hold the good things in your life with open hands. Enjoy them deeply, but don’t ask them to save you. Let your hope rest in the God who gives generously—not in gifts that eventually run out.

That kind of joy doesn’t leave you empty.

It leaves you whole.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What are the things in your life that you tend to look to for satisfaction or fulfillment?
  • Have you ever achieved or experienced something you thought would satisfy you—but didn’t?
  • What’s the difference between enjoying God’s gifts and depending on them for your identity or happiness?
  • In what ways might you be placing your hope in something that isn’t meant to carry that weight?
  • What would it look like for you to anchor your joy more deeply in God this week?
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Faith on the Tower

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1 Peter 2:9 — But you are not like that, for you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God’s very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light. 

The wind hits first—sharp and loud—as two men clip themselves onto a radio tower before sunrise.

Cody is new to the job. New to the height. New to being strapped in beside the same person for twelve hours a day. This kind of work demands trust. Even if you don’t like the person next to you, your life depends on them.

Every morning, Cody turns on worship music from his phone and prays out loud. Not to make a point—there’s just nowhere to hide it up here.

His climbing partner makes his feelings clear early on. He doesn’t believe in God. In fact, he says he hates Him.

Cody doesn’t argue.

But he also doesn’t turn the music off.

Days stretch into weeks. The scoffing slowly turns into small talk. Then one morning, the partner asks Cody to pray—but not for him. Just for his daughter.

So Cody prays right there on the tower.

And they go back to work.

Then one night, Cody’s phone rings.

His coworker’s voice sounds different. Heavy. Desperate. He admits he has relapsed in his addiction and doesn’t want to live anymore.

Cody calls his dad, and together they sit with the man for hours. No preaching. No pressure. Just the simple truths of the gospel: you are loved, you have purpose, and God has a plan for your life.

Later, the coworker admits something that surprises Cody.

It wasn’t an argument that made him call.

It was the worship music. It was Cody’s consistency. It was the steady love that felt trustworthy and real.

Scripture reminds us that God has called His people out of darkness and into His wonderful light—not just so we can experience it, but so we can show His goodness to others.

Cody didn’t know how deep the darkness was for his coworker. He simply kept living in the light long enough for someone else to notice it.

And that’s often how God works.

Somewhere near you, someone is watching what faith looks like in real life—in long days, ordinary conversations, and quiet moments when love costs time and attention.

So keep living your faith out loud.

Consistency can soften hearts that arguments never will.

And when the light stays on long enough, it has a way of drawing people home.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Who in your life regularly sees how you live out your faith?
  • Why do you think consistency can influence people more than arguments?
  • How does knowing you are “chosen” by God change the way you live around others?
  • What might it look like for you to shine God’s light in an ordinary moment this week?
  • Who might be watching your faith more closely than you realize?
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A Snow Day for the Soul

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Titus 2:11-13 — For the grace of God has been revealed, bringing salvation to all people. And we are instructed to turn from godless living and sinful pleasures. We should live in this evil world with wisdom, righteousness, and devotion to God, while we look forward with hope to that wonderful day when the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, will be revealed.

I don’t remember much from 2010—except snow, applesauce, and the way waiting felt like electricity in my bones.

North Louisiana Februarys are built for crawfish boils and short sleeves, not winter weather. A single icicle can shut the place down. So when classes didn’t just pause but stopped, we knew this wasn’t normal. Teachers rushed to grade papers. Parents got early pickup calls. The Weather Channel flickered on the classroom TV.

This time it was the real thing. Snow.

I knew something else too. Tomorrow was my birthday.

My almost-eight-year-old brain filled with questions the way only a kid’s can when something good feels close. What does snow taste like? What does it smell like? Does it taste as good as it smells?

That night, sleep never stood a chance. Everything felt charged—like the world was holding its breath.

Before bed, Mom called me to the front door. We slipped outside quietly, leaving my brother asleep. The cold didn’t matter. Standing there, watching flakes drift down under the porch light, I realized I was seeing something I’d only heard about until then.

It was real, and it was incredible.

Mom wrapped me in a tight hug and leaned in close, her voice barely louder than the falling snow. “Happy Birthday.”

Years later, I think about that night often—not just because of the snow, but because of the waiting. The joy that showed up before the gift fully arrived.

Scripture names that longing. Titus 2:11–13 says that “the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people… training us to wait for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.” Grace doesn’t just rescue us; it teaches us how to wait.

Isn’t it amazing that God builds anticipation into our faith on purpose. Right now, we only catch hints. We taste and touch and smell traces—like snow the night before your birthday. But one day, we won’t be reaching for shadows of His goodness anymore. We’ll live inside it.

God gives us small joys to prepare us for greater ones. The preview is not the prize—but it keeps us leaning forward. And those moments aren’t random. They are reminders.

Grace doesn’t just save us; it sustains us while we wait. It trains our hearts to live faithfully in the present while keeping our eyes on what’s still ahead.

God gives us glimpses—not to tease us, but to prepare us. So maybe today isn’t about chasing the next big thing. Maybe it’s about noticing the quiet ways God is teaching you to hope.

Because the best really is coming, so let anticipation do its work.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where in my life am I tired of waiting?
  • Do I see waiting as wasted time — or as training?
  • What small glimpses of God’s goodness has He already given me?
  • Am I living only for what’s next, or faithfully in what’s now?
  • How is grace shaping the way I live today?
  • What would it look like to let anticipation deepen my hope instead of frustrate it?
  • Do I truly believe that the best is still ahead?
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