Detours, Delays, and a Faithful God

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Philippians 1:6 — And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns. 

He hasn’t failed me yet, and He’s not about to start on a random Tuesday in Monroe.

I’m driving downtown on the way to work, just me and the steady hum of my tires, when I realize something feels different. I’m not slowing down for cones. I’m also not squinting at orange signs trying to figure out which surprise detour I’ve been assigned today.

I’m just… driving. Straight through downtown. No construction. No rerouting. No frustration rising in my chest. If you’ve lived here the last few years, you know that’s kind of a miracle.

For the longest time, downtown felt like a maze. Constant construction. Constant “nope, not this way.” Shortcut here. Detour there. Reroute, reroute, reroute. It got so familiar that it felt permanent. This was just how things were now.

I even remember, a little over a year ago, getting out of the car to move and replace cones just so I could get to work. And I was pregnant! But that’s how badly I wanted and needed this construction to move forward.

But today as I drove through the beautiful, finished streets, gratitude washed over me. No, not because the wait was easy, but because it finally made sense. The construction wasn’t punishment. It wasn’t neglect. It was preparation. It was necessary work beneath the surface so the road could actually be ready for what was coming next.

Haven’t we all had seasons like that? Where life feels permanently under construction. Where you’re asking God, “Am I ever going to get to use what You’ve put in me? Or am I just always going to be a work in progress?” Where it feels like everyone else is cruising and you’re still dodging caution cones.

Philippians 1:6 says it plainly: “He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” He will not abandon it. Not rush it. Complete it.

That verse isn’t just comforting—it’s a firm foundation. It means God doesn’t leave projects half-finished, and it means the season you’re in right now is not wasted, even if it’s inconvenient and slow.

So, here’s the invitation. I’m taking it, and I hope you will too. Let God do His work in you. Don’t rush the cones out of the way. Don’t despise the detours. Trust that the road will open when it’s ready—and when it does, it will be strong enough to carry everything God’s prepared for you.

The wait is part of the goodness. And the finished work will be worth it.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where in your life does it feel like you’re stuck in a season of “constant construction” right now?
  • How have you been tempted to rush God’s process or compare your progress to others’?
  • What would it look like to trust that the delays and detours are part of God’s preparation, not His absence?
  • How does believing that God always finishes what He starts change the way you view your current season?
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Prayers That Build a Legacy

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Psalm 69:16 — Answer my prayers, O Lord, for your unfailing love is wonderful. Take care of me, for your mercy is so plentiful.

I was thinking about my dad the other night, just sitting with my thoughts, and it hit me how different his life turned out from the rest of his family.

Most of them, well… they made choices that led to messy, hard roads. But my dad? Somehow, he just became this steady Godly person. If you’ve ever met him you know he’s just so good and kind. And I know where it started—his grandmother.

She prayed over him from the moment he was born. Not casual prayers, either. She would take him in her arms and declare things over his life like, “You’re not going to be like the rest of your family. You are going to be a great man. You are going to do what God’s called you to do.”

Can you imagine believing that kind of thing over someone you love? She did. And she prayed and believed with her whole heart. Now, she didn’t live to see him grow into that person unfortunately, but her prayers changed everything. Every time I look at my dad, I see her prayers answered.

I mean…wow! God is so good. I think about my own prayers sometimes about the people whose lives I am asking God to move in. They feel so far away from Him, and there are days where I’m praying and it feels like my words are just hitting the ceiling. Like nothing is changing and nothing is happening.

Then doubt sneaks in and whispers, “Does it even matter if I pray?”

And then I look at my dad. I see the life he’s built. The way he loves people, the way he carries himself with integrity, and the way faith just seems to flow through him. Its such an answered prayer.

There is this prayer in the Psalms that reminds me so much of my grandma praying for her son. It says, “Answer me, O Lord, for your steadfast love is good; according to your abundant mercy, turn to me” (Psalm 69:16).

It reminds me that God’s movement isn’t measured by what I see. But He is mighty and merciful and patient. He is breaking through like only He can. It’s hard to wrap my mind around it.

But prayer is generational. It travels. I may never see it in my lifetime, but that is okay. Maybe I’ll never even see the result, but they are just like those slow, invisible, chain breaking prayers that shaped my dad. They’re part of a legacy.

So, I am going to keep on praying. And I want you to keep praying too. Even when it feels difficult. Even when it feels like it doesn’t matter because every word carries weight. Every time we cry out to God it matters. God is moving, and your prayers are shaping a future far beyond what you can imagine.

He will answer you because God is good and His abundant mercy never fails.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Who has prayed over your life in ways you may not have fully recognized yet?
  • Is there someone you’ve been praying for where it feels like nothing is changing right now? How does this story encourage you to keep going?
  • What doubts creep in when prayers seem unanswered—and how can God’s unfailing love reshape those doubts?
  • What legacy of prayer are you currently building, even if you may never see the full outcome?
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Better Together Always

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Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 — Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble.

It has just been hard.

Hard to feel confident. Hard to make good, healthy choices. That’s where I’ve been lately. Have you ever been in that place? Where in one season it felt easy—like, give me all the kale salads, I’ve got this—and in the next you’re standing there thinking, “Can I please just have some buffalo wings and Chick-fil-A and pasta?”

I’m just being honest.

What’s made it worse is everything that comes with it. The way I see myself. The frustration. The questions I think but don’t always say out loud. I keep asking, God, why is it so hard now when it used to be so easy? And I know the answer, even if I don’t love it.

This time, it’s going to take work. It’s going to take discipline.

And when you’ve done something for so long and then you stop, starting again feels like torture. Discipline feels evil. It does. But I’m so determined to get back to a healthier place.

Along the way I have realized I can’t do it alone. I need help. That part took me longer to admit than it should have.

I’ve been trying to do this by myself. I haven’t even really asked my husband to support me. He’s tried, but I never actually said, “I need you to walk with me in this.” I haven’t reached out to friends who would gladly hold me accountable. I just kept carrying it and hoping simple will-power would be enough.

It wasn’t.

And that’s when something simple but true settled in my mind. Discipline is good. It’s not the enemy. Isolation is. We were never meant to carry hard things alone. Scripture says it plainly: “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up” (Ecclesiastes 4:9–10).

That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.

So now I’m asking. I’m letting people in. I’m choosing accountability—not just with food or habits, but with every part my life. Because I don’t want to stay stuck where I am, and I don’t want to pretend I was ever meant to do this on my own.

I wonder if you have been trying to handle something alone, too. What might change if you let someone walk beside you?

Support is part of how we grow. Accountability is part of how we heal. And walking together is how we move forward.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What is something in your life right now that feels harder than it used to?
  • Where have you been relying on willpower alone instead of inviting others to walk with you?
  • Who is someone you trust that you could ask for support or accountability this week?
  • How does knowing that God designed us for community change the way you view asking for help?
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The Wisdom Behind Preparation

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Romans 15:5-7 — May God, who gives this patience and encouragement, help you live in complete harmony with each other, as is fitting for followers of Christ Jesus. Then all of you can join together with one voice, giving praise and glory to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, accept each other just as Christ has accepted you so that God will be given glory.

I am once again sprinting through my morning.

My keys are missing. The coffee is too hot. My shoes are nowhere to be found. I’m moving so fast, talking faster, and stressed about everything. I need help! And there he is—Chris, my husband—calmly tying his shoes like the world is not on fire.

He’s ready.

Of course he is.

His coffee is brewed. His lunch is packed. He has his Bible open. Calm. Unbothered.

I give a sideways glance at him while I’m rushing past. I tease him, of course, for moving at a snail’s pace and joke that he’s acting like he’s on vacation while I’m breaking a sweat.

But then I stop myself. Because the truth is, I’m really inspired by his mornings. I don’t think I have ever seen this man live with a drop of anxiety at all. And do you know why? I think that’s on purpose.

Day after day, he’s prepared.

His peace is practiced. It’s not accidental. Chris thought ahead and took care of some things the night before. He gave his future self a gift. And now he’s living in the peace that preparation creates.

Watching him, my mind drifts to something Jesus once taught about wisdom. He talked about two people building two houses. Same weather. Same storm. One stands. One falls. The difference wasn’t the storm. It was the foundation.

Jesus wasn’t giving a lesson on productivity or morning routines. He was talking about lives built on obedience to Him—lives anchored in truth rather than impulse. Still, standing there with my shoes in the wrong place and my heart in a hurry, I can’t help but notice how wisdom often shows up long before the wind starts howling.

Preparation doesn’t save us. Jesus does. But wisdom has a way of shaping how we walk through the day He gives us.

That realization changes everything.

So, I start small. Imperfectly. I lay out my clothes the night before. I do a little meal prep. I set my alarm a few minutes earlier. Not to earn peace, but to make space for it.

And something shifts.

I’m not magically calm. The mornings aren’t flawless. But I’m less reactive. I have time to open my Bible. I have time to sit on the floor and play with my toddler. I have time to breathe before the day starts asking things of me.

So maybe this is the simple invitation found in moments like these. When you notice someone living with steadiness, maybe it’s not meant to make you feel like a failure. Maybe it’s meant to remind you that wisdom is available.

Instead of just learning to prepare like Chris, you’re learning to accept differences with grace, not irritation.

Peace isn’t something you chase. It’s something you build your life around, one intentional choice at a time, on a foundation that actually holds when the storm comes.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • How do you typically respond when someone’s pace or rhythm is different from yours?
  • Is there someone in your life whose calm or steadiness frustrates you more than it encourages you?
  • What would it look like to accept others as Christ has accepted you—without comparison or irritation?
  • Are there small, intentional choices you could make to create more peace in your daily rhythms?
  • How might patience and encouragement change the atmosphere of your home or relationships today?
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Safety in the Rock

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Psalm 61:2 — From the ends of the earth, I cry to you for help when my heart is overwhelmed. Lead me to the towering rock of safety.

I remember sitting in the back seat as a little girl, the hum of the car engine filling the quiet between songs. My mom’s voice floated from the front, singing words I didn’t yet understand: “When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.”

Back then, I shrugged. What did that even mean? A rock higher than I? It sounded safe, sure, but abstract. I could sense that it was something good, but it just didn’t make sense yet. I just smiled and let the melody wash over me, not realizing how much it was being tucked into my heart.

Years later, I now find myself reaching for and singing those words myself. Life can be challenging and full of worries and responsibilities. My chest tightens from stress, but then I sing out that melody I learned from my mom.

“When my heart is overwhelmed…”

Psalm 61:2 comes to mind every time I sing that hymn. It says, “From the ends of the earth, I cry to you for help when my heart is overwhelmed. Lead me to the towering rock of safety.”

And just like that, the overwhelm shifts. It’s a habit etched deep in my heart, and I’m so thankful for my mom’s example because it modeled how I could turn to God even in the stress and put my trust in Him.

When I do, “the Rock that is higher than I” isn’t abstract anymore. He’s tangible. He’s powerful, and He’s the safest place I can run to when I’m overwhelmed.

Now I am the one in the front seat setting the example for others. When they see my life, I hope they can learn that there is someone we can all turn to when we feel crushed or overwhelmed.

Faith is often passed down in small ways like that. Not sermons. Not perfect words. Just habits, patterns, and examples repeated until they become part of who we are.

That’s what makes me stop and think. Who first showed you where to run when life felt heavy? And who is watching how you respond now? Foundations matter. Not because life spares us from difficulty, but because when it comes, we already know where to go.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When you feel overwhelmed, where is your instinct to run first?
  • Is there a song, verse, or prayer from your past that God brings back to you in stressful moments?
  • Who modeled faith for you in small, everyday ways—and how did that shape you?
  • What habits are you forming now that others might one day lean on?
  • What would it look like today to intentionally run to God as your place of safety instead of trying to carry everything alone?

Lyrics:

When my heart is overwhelmed
When I barely trust myself
Lead me to the Rock
Higher than I

When the night is closing in
To remind me of my sin
Lead me to the Rock
Higher than I

Lead me to the Rock
Higher than I

Higher than I
Higher than I
Higher than I
Higher than I

So much stronger
So much greater
So much wiser
So much higher

Higher than I
Higher than I

When the doubt is rising up
When it comes in like a flood
Lead me to the Rock
Higher than I
Yeah lead me to the Rock
Higher than I

Where else would I go
Who else would I run to
Where else would I go
Who else would I run to

Written by Steven Furtick, Chris Brown, Brandon Lake, Mitch Wong
©2025 Music by Elevation Worship Publishing / Brandon Lake Music / Original Wong Publishing / Bell Music Publishing

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Growth is Pressing Through

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James 1:4 — So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.

Sometimes growth hurts in ways you’d never expect.

I’m sitting in the pediatric office with Lennox, trying to look calm while he squirms in my arms. He’s here for a follow-up on a little ear infection. The nurse checks him. The doctor does too, and everything seems fine. No fluid. No infection. Still, he keeps tugging at his ears like they’re bothering him.

I frown. “Well, if there’s nothing wrong with his ears, what is going on?”

The doctor smiles and keeps investigating. She shines her little magical flashlight in his mouth, tilts her head, and says, “Oh… yep. His top teeth are super swollen. They are about to break through.”

I try to picture what that even looks like. Teeth? Ear pain? How is that connected?

She laughs at my expression. “A lot of times, that will cause pain in the ears,” she explains.

I nod slowly, the dots connecting. It’s in his mouth, but it’s pulling at his ears. Growth in one part of his body is actually having a ripple effect outward to other parts of his body.

I sit back and think, quietly, “Okay, Lord. I see it now.”

Sometimes that’s how spiritual growth feels like too. For example, if God starts to grow us in patience, He might challenge us to swallow our pride and love difficult people. But take heart. James 1:4 says, “So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.”

Just like Lennox’s teeth, the Lord is working in places we might not expect. Patience grows, but it can tug at our thoughts, our moods, and our reactions. Love stretches us, but sometimes that stretching feels tight in our hearts or minds. The discomfort isn’t random. The tugging isn’t accidental. It’s proof that change is happening, slow and steady, shaping us into completeness we can’t yet see.

I watch Lennox chew on his finger, ears still a little red, and I realize—in life we have to trust the process, even when we don’t understand the discomfort. The tugging doesn’t mean we’re broken. It means something is pushing through, and once it’s fully in place, the rest will make sense.

So maybe the question isn’t why it hurts. Maybe it’s whether we notice the places we’re growing, the small ripples of change that touch everything else in our lives. And if we do? Then maybe we can smile, just a little, knowing that the tugging, the stretching, and the small irritations are all part of becoming more complete, whole, and like Him.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where in your life do you feel discomfort that might actually be connected to growth God is doing beneath the surface?
  • Have you ever noticed how growth in one area of your life affects other parts—your thoughts, emotions, or relationships?
  • What does it look like for you to “let it grow,” even when the process feels inconvenient or uncomfortable?
  • How does James 1:4 encourage you to trust God’s work in you, even when you don’t yet see the full result?
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Our Faces, Unashamed

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Psalm 34:5 — Those who look to Him for help will be radiant with joy; no shadow of shame will darken their faces.

I’m standing in my kitchen, coffee in hand, half-listening to the TV in the background, when it hits me—a memory I hadn’t thought of in years. It’s so embarrassing that it makes me cringe. High school? That was decades ago. How is this still so mortifying to me?

I just want to scroll past the feeling and pretend it isn’t real, but it won’t shake. Usually, I don’t carry shame around like this. But here it is, making my skin crawl.

“Lord,” I whisper, “this memory is so awkward and is really bothering me. I don’t even know what to do with it.”

And then I feel Him there. Not judging. Not shaking His head. Just beside me. The weight of the memory doesn’t vanish, but the heaviness does. I realize in God’s presence, I don’t have to fix it, explain it, or erase it.

So, I just breath in and out and give that unwelcome memory over to God.

That shame doesn’t have to hold me hostage. And suddenly, I understand something: freedom from my past mistakes isn’t about being perfect. It’s about trusting God fully, and let Him exchange the mistake for the miracle of His love.

Psalm 34:5 says, “Those who look to Him for help will be radiant with joy; no shadow of shame will darken their faces.”

And I just love that. That’s the exchange God offers—when we look to Him, shame loosens its grip.

Maybe the question isn’t why we feel shame. Maybe the better question is whether we’ll stop pretending it doesn’t exist long enough to let God meet with us. Because He will. Every awkward, tender, embarrassing memory—God sees it, knows it, and loves us anyway.

I take a sip of coffee and wonder what would happen if I just let Him in on even the tiniest uncomfortable corners of my hearts? And I hope you will ask yourself the same question too. Could that be enough for the joy that’s been hiding there all along to finally break through?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Is there a memory or moment from your past that still carries a quiet sense of shame when it resurfaces?
  • What does it look like for you to “look to Him for help” instead of trying to ignore, minimize, or manage that feeling on your own?
  • How might your heart change if you believed God meets you with compassion—not disappointment—in those uncomfortable moments?
  • Are there areas of your life where shame has kept you from fully experiencing joy or freedom?
  • What would it look like today to invite God into even one small, tender corner of your heart?
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Giving the Love We Needed

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1 Corinthians 15:10 — But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me.

It is amazing when you can return the favor.

I have someone in my life who I am so close to. She is a young grandmother, and I knew she was special the first time I watched her hold that baby. She bounced him gently, humming as if the world could wait. As a new mom myself, I was just watching, trying to figure out how someone could be that calm and that steady.

“I have to ask,” I said. “How are you so good with kids? What’s your story?”

She began to tell me in pieces, snapshots from her life. She was fourteen when she had her first child. She remembers walking home from school, terrified to tell her mom, expecting anger, judgment, and resentment. She braced herself for the worst.

But it never came. Her mom met her with warm hands and gentle words. She wrapped her arms around her and helped her carry the weight of that. She warmed bottles, folded blankets, and kept dinner on the stove. She even made sure the baby was fed and bathed when my friend got home from school or work. My friend didn’t have to do it all on her own.

Now, years later, my friend has gone on to be a nurse practitioner. She has a beautiful family. She is a grandmother who still fusses over fussy babies, rocks them until they sleep, and sits beside her patients on their hardest days.

When I asked her how she does it, she said simply, “I remember how it felt when my mom met me with love and compassion. I want to give that same thing back to other people.”

She said that, and it made me think of 1 Corinthians 15:10: “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace to me was not without effect. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them—yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me.”

That’s what I was seeing in her life. Grace that met her in her fear and didn’t leave her there. Grace that steadied her, shaped her, and then showed up again—in her work, in her motherhood, and now in the way she cares so deeply for others.

Watching her, I realized that the love and care we receive is never meant to stay with us. It is meant to move through us and be poured out for others. And I wondered (and I hope you will too), who in my life needs to feel grace today through my actions? Who can I meet with the same compassion that carried me through my own hardest days?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Who first met you with grace during a hard or defining moment in your life?
  • How has God used that grace to shape who you are today?
  • In what ways might God be inviting you to let grace “work through you” instead of stopping with you?
  • Who in your life right now needs compassion more than correction?
  • What would it look like to return the favor—to offer the same grace you once received?
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Faith that Puts on Work Boots

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1 John 3:18 – Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.

The things you do for the people you love often cost you something. If you have ever worked in a school, you know exactly what that means. Those kids—your students—they become yours, too.

Henry Darby understood that personally. He loved his student body but he also saw a reality that could not be ignored. Many of them came from homes with unpaid bills and empty pantries. He saw the tired faces trying to pretend everything was fine.

School resources could not cover what it would take to help them all. Neither would his salary. So, he prayed about it and did the only thing he knew to do. He took an overnight job at Walmart.

He would stock shelves from ten at night until six in the morning three nights a week. Then he would go home, clean up, and head straight back to school.

Every single paycheck went to support his students. Many of them received fresh groceries and school supplies while others went home with what they needed to keep the lights on at home.

It was hard work that felt never ending. Sure. But he loved those kids, and he did it anyway.

He could have said, “Someone else will handle it.” But he didn’t. He showed up. He stepped in. He carried a part of their burden. In doing so, he taught so many teenagers what real love looks like.

When I first heard about Mr. Darby, I began to see the difference between care and action. seeing a need is never enough. Love shows itself in action. Sometimes, it is messy, tiring, and inconvenient, but that is exactly what makes it real.

It reminds me of the words from 1 John 3:18: “Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.”

That is what Mr. Darby was living—quiet, steady love that did not need to be announced. It just needed to be done. Love that keeps showing up when no one is watching. The kind that looks ordinary until you realize it is the most extraordinary thing of all.

Maybe that is the point. To live in such a way that when we see a need, we do not look away. We do not just hope it gets better. We get involved. Because sometimes, the best way to speak love is not with words at all. It is with what we do.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • How can you show love in action this week, not just in words?
  • Are there needs around you that you’ve been overlooking? How might you step in?
  • What does “love in deed and truth” look like in your daily life?
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Give a Cup of Kindness

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Luke 6:31 — Do to others as you would like them to do to you.

I was feeling good that morning and treating myself to my favorite oat milk latte. You know—my favorite little drinky-drink. Sometimes it just tastes better when somebody else makes it.

I smiled, thanked the young guy behind the counter, and headed out the door. But when I was back to my car standing outside, I took one sip and immediately knew it. This was whole milk. Oh no.

My stomach cannot handle that. I know it sounds bougie and dramatic, but it is just the truth. So I made somewhat of a U-Turn, cup in hand, and quickly made my way back inside.

When I busted back in through that coffee shop door, I saw the expression on that poor barista’s face. His eyes were so wide.

Oh no, she’s back!

That look stopped me. Then I realized how often people probably come in angry, ready to lash out. And suddenly I wanted to make sure my face, my tone, and my posture told a different story.

So, I smiled and said as kindly as possible, “Hey, I realized there’s whole milk in there. I need oat milk. No big deal. I’ve got a few minutes. Do you mind remaking it?”

He blinked like he did not expect that. Then he nodded and remade it.

Before long, he handed me back my drink, and his face had the biggest smile. Not only that, but he gave me a larger drink than I ordered.

That simple exchange felt like such a win. I am so thankful that I did not treat him rudely. People make mistakes. We all do, and I praised God because I actually responded with kindness.

And you know, that is really what the Luke in the Bible was talking about. “Do to others as you would like them to do to you.” It sounds simple, but it is hard sometimes, especially when you are tired, or stressed, or your latte comes out wrong.

God shows up in those moments and teaches us patience and kindness. I could have snapped, but instead, I made a friend. So maybe today, if someone messes up or gets on your nerves, remember that little verse. You do not know what small thing might make lift someone up—or what God might grow in your own heart while you are at it.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When was the last time you responded with patience or kindness instead of frustration?
  • How could small acts of grace impact someone else’s day today?
  • What might God teach you about yourself when you choose to “do to others as you would like them to do to you”?
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