Today’s Always Uplifting Verse and Devotional to start your day off right!

Transforming Heartbreak Into Worship

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Psalm 34:1 — I will praise the Lord at all times. I will constantly speak his praises.

The studio was quiet that morning. It was not the peaceful kind of quiet. This was the heavy kind that hangs in the air when no one quite knows what to say. Tasha Layton sat with her co-writers, the weight of yesterday still settling in.

Their friend Jonathan had just been diagnosed with cancer. The shock had not yet worn off.

She stared at the blank page before her, praying words would come. Music had always been a way she talked to God, but this time, she did not know where to begin.

The ache was too real, the hope too fragile. Someone suggested they just write from where they were—from the hurt, the hope, the uncertainty.

So they began. Slowly at first. A few chords. A few tears. The song that formed was not a declaration of victory but a cry of surrender. “We were holding the weight of grief,” she later said, “but still believing in a miracle-working God.”

When they finished, they sent the song to Jonathan. He listened from his hospital bed, and though his body weakened in the months that followed, his faith remained strong.

In the end, the miracle came—but not the one they had expected. Jonathan’s healing did not happen on this side of heaven.

Yet somehow, the song did not lose its purpose.

It deepened. It became less about outcomes and more about presence. It was less about God’s many miracles, and more about who He is. For Tasha, it became an anthem for those who stand in the middle of pain and still lift their hands anyway.

She often thinks of the words from Psalm 34:1, “I will bless the Lord at all times.” They remind her that worship is not reserved for the mountaintop moments but for every season, even the ones that break your heart.

Now, when she sings “Worship Through It,” it is not a performance—it is a prayer. A reminder that real faith often sounds like gratitude whispered through tears. And perhaps the truest kind of transformation is found there—in the valley, where thankfulness still rises.

This Thanksgiving, maybe that is where we begin too. Not by waiting for everything to be right, but by choosing to bless the Lord right where we are—and letting that gratitude change us from within.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When has worship felt the hardest for you, and how did God meet you in that moment?
  • What does it mean to “bless the Lord at all times,” even in seasons of loss or uncertainty?
  • How can gratitude and praise become an act of surrender when you don’t understand what God is doing?
  • Think of someone you know who is walking through pain—how could your encouragement help them “worship through it”?
  • What might change in your heart if you chose to worship through the struggle instead of waiting until it’s over?

L Y R I C S

This looks impossible
But You’re the God of impossible
And I’ve seen your faithfulness all over my life
I need a miracle
And You’re the God of miracles
Some way, somehow You come through every time

Chorus
I know my God can do it
So, I’m gonna worship through it
Before I see my breakthrough
I’m gonna choose to praise You

I will sing hallelujah to the one
Who can do what the world says can’t be done
I know my God can do it
So, I’m gonna worship through it

In the middle of my no way out
In the middle of my don’t know how
I hear You whisper to me “peace be still”
This is why I believe
You will deliver me
You always have and you always will
You always have and you always will

I won’t wait ‘til the rocks cry out
I’m gonna praise You
I won’t wait till the walls come down
I’m gonna praise You
(Gonna) Lift my hands right here, right now
I’m gonna praise You
Oh God I praise You!

Written by Tasha Layton, Keith Everette Smith, Matthew West, AJ Pruis

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Thankful For Sandpaper People

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Colossians 3:13 — Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.

I stir the pasta sauce on the stove and glance out the kitchen window, letting the quiet of the evening settle around me. The day had been full of people—some kind, some careless, and a few who seemed determined to push every one of my buttons.

I shake my head and laugh at myself, because I have a name for these types in my prayers. I call them sandpaper people. They scratch, they irritate, they rub you wrong without even trying, and somehow, God always seems to place them right in my path.

I breathe in slowly, the aroma of garlic and tomato mingling with the evening air, and let the tension go.

Sandpaper, I remind myself, smooths rough edges. And I have plenty. I have places I do not even see—spots where I can be abrasive, impatient, judgmental. And maybe, without meaning to, I am a sandpaper person to someone else today. It is in the friction of our interactions, the bumps and irritations of ordinary life, that God works on us.

I think that’s why scripture says, “Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.”

That’s the kind of grace I want, so shouldn’t I also make room in my heart for others even when they are aggravating.

I taste the sauce, still too hot, and smile. I lift my heart in a quiet “thank you” for those people who tested my patience today. I whisper a prayer for them, too. Because God does not just ask us to endure. God asks us to love. Even the ones who are hardest to love. Even the ones who make us want to roll our eyes or bite our tongues.

They are refining us. And sometimes, they are mirrors, showing us the rough spots in ourselves that only He can smooth.

So I stir the pot again and watch the steam rise. And I wonder, if we looked at the people who irritate us with a little more gratitude, would we see them differently?

Could we see them as part of the plan, helping shape the patience and kindness we could not develop on our own? Tonight, I am thankful. For the sandpaper people, for the growth they inspire, and for a God who never wastes the little irritations of a day.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Who are the “sandpaper people” in your life right now—and how might God be using them to shape your character?
  • When has someone shown you grace when you didn’t deserve it? How did that affect you?
  • How can you practice “making allowance” for someone’s faults this week in a practical way?
  • What happens to your heart when you shift from irritation to gratitude toward the people who test your patience?
  • How does remembering God’s forgiveness toward you change the way you respond to others?
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Let Him Do the Work

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Psalm 51:10 — Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a loyal spirit within me.

Weekends in our house are usually reserved for three things: resting, catching up with friends, and cleaning. I’ll be honest—cleaning isn’t my favorite part. But there’s nothing better than that feeling when the house smells fresh and everything’s in its place.

My stepdaughter actually loves to clean. Her favorite thing is mopping. She’ll boil water, pick out the best-smelling detergent she can find, and go to town on those floors. Sometimes I’ll walk in and the whole house smells amazing—like lemons and lavender had a baby. But when I ask her if she swept first, she’ll grin and say, “Oh… I forgot. I just wanted it to smell good.”

And I get that. I love a good-smelling house too. But if you don’t sweep first, all you’re really doing is spreading that nice smell over a layer of dirt.

The more I thought about it, the more it hit me—that’s how a lot of us live our lives. We want to jump straight to the part that looks and smells good. We want people to see our “fresh” side, the part that feels put together. But underneath it all, there might still be dust and crumbs we’ve ignored.

It’s not the fun part, but the real work—the sweeping, the scrubbing, the part no one sees—has to happen first. That’s the part Jesus helps with.

That’s why I love the prayer found in the book of Psalm that says, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”

We can bring our mess to God. He’s patient with us, right there in the middle of it. He knows about the disappointment that sticks, the guilt that clings, the places we keep trying to cover up.

And here’s the best part: He doesn’t mind rolling up His sleeves. He meets us in it. He helps clean out what we didn’t even know was there.

So this weekend, while we’re boiling water and mopping floors, maybe let Him in to do the same in your heart. Once He does that foundational work, everything else changes. You start to shine—not because you’re pretending to be perfect, but because He’s been there, cleaning you from the inside out.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What “surface-level” habits or attitudes might you be using to cover up something God wants to clean deeper in your heart?
  • Why is it sometimes easier to “smell good” spiritually than to let God sweep away the mess underneath?
  • How does it make you feel to know that God meets you in the mess rather than waiting for you to fix it first?
  • What would it look like this week to invite God to “renew a right spirit” in you — in your home, work, or relationships?
  • Who might need encouragement today to know that God is patient in their process of being renewed?
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Life Is Better Together

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Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 – Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!

When I was twenty-two, I packed up my life and moved to Alabama for Bible school. I pictured calm mornings reading my Bible, a bit of solitude, and space to figure out my life.

Instead, I got fifteen roommates.

You see, one of the dorms across campus was still under construction so they packed all of us under one roof. I don’t know if you can picture that many men in a six bedroom house, but it was wild.

The walls were thin so there was always noise— laughter, footsteps, someone playing music way too loud. There was no real privacy, no way to escape the chaos, and I just had to keep reminding myself this was temporary.

At first, I was frustrated. I couldn’t retreat into myself like I was accustomed to. But little by little, that crowded house started to change me.

Our resident advisor, Dougie, led weekly Bible studies that became the heartbeat of our little house. We prayed together, wrestled with truth, joked through exhaustion, and reminded each other to keep showing up.

In between the noise and the shared meals and the endless laundry, something steady was forming — a kind of community I had never known before.

I could not isolate myself when I wanted to, but I actually found that was a good thing. Other people were always there for me — just like Scripture teaches, ‘Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil.’” Instead of retreating, God had put people in my life I could talk to when I felt insecure, aggravated, or ashamed. And it made all the difference.

Two months later, when most of the guys moved out, I felt something I did not expect — grief. I had come to love that loud, messy, inconvenient community. It had shaped me. It sharpened me. And it taught me that life is not meant to be navigated alone.

It also reminds me of how the first followers of Jesus lived — the way they shared everything, broke bread together, prayed side by side, and carried each other’s burdens. There was beauty in the simplicity of it, in how natural it was to belong to one another.

That picture from Acts has always stayed with me. They were people doing life together too. They were finding joy in the mess of faith and friendship.

Looking back now, I wonder: when was the last time I truly leaned into the discomfort of biblical community and let it shape me? And maybe the better question is: what might happen if I did it again? And I hope you will ask yourself that too.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When has God used community to encourage or challenge you in a season when you wanted to be alone?
  • Who in your life lifts you up when you fall — and how might you do the same for them this week?
  • Are there areas where you’ve been trying to handle life on your own that God might be calling you to share with someone?
  • What makes true biblical community both messy and beautiful?
  • How can you be more intentional about leaning into the kind of connection that shapes your faith?
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How God Uses Broken Things

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1 Corinthians 1:27 – But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.

Chris bought Kevin’s old van mostly because it was cheap. Kevin had warned him about the radio. “It’s stuck on the Christian station,” he said, handing over the keys. Chris just laughed. He was not looking for inspiration—he was looking for transportation.

When he turned the dial that first time, the radio worked perfectly. The speakers crackled to life with a familiar guitar riff. Zeppelin. Chris grinned and rolled down the window. The wind rushed in, the road stretched ahead, and for a moment, everything felt right.

A week later, bills caught up with him. He had to sell the van back to his friend.

The next day, Chris got a phone call. It was from Kevin.

“You won’t believe this, but it’s stuck on that same station again.”

They both agreed it was hilarious and odd. “What a coincidence” Chris thought. But what happened next was impossible to shrug off.

His friend with the radio began to change. Slowly at first, but he stopped drinking so much. He started showing up to his kid’s baseball games. He became calmer, and his voice started to carry something new— hope, maybe.

Chris began to wonder if that stubborn radio had been tuned by more than human hands. Maybe it was no accident at all. Maybe that old van had been waiting for Kevin all along.

He could not shake the thought. Because the same man who once cursed at traffic was now humming along to worship songs in a rusty van. He could see now that God uses even broken things to reach people who are running out of road.

Maybe that is the miracle we often miss. God still moves through the most ordinary parts of our lives. The conversation you almost skipped, the interruption you found inconvenient, the thing that did not go your way. Each might be God’s gentle way of drawing you closer.

So don’t dismiss anything He’s doing. As 1 Corinthians 1:27 reminds us, “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.”

Perhaps today is worth slowing down and asking, “How is God trying to get my attention? What might He be trying to reach me through?”

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When has God used something unexpected—or even inconvenient—to get your attention?
  • Is there a situation in your life right now that feels small, foolish, or broken, yet might be exactly where God is working?
  • How does this story remind you that God’s power doesn’t depend on perfection or strength?
  • Who in your life might need encouragement to see that God can work through ordinary or imperfect things?
  • What would change if you started looking for God in the interruptions instead of trying to avoid them?
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Lessons From the Grocery Store

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1 Corinthians 15:10 — But whatever I am now, it is all because God poured out His special favor on me — and not without results. For I have worked harder than any of the other apostles; yet it was not I but God who was working through me by His grace.

The smell of warm bread and cleaning supplies still takes me back. Not to a bakery or my grandmother’s kitchen, but to the grocery store where I had my first job.

I was sixteen, awkward, and half-asleep most mornings. It wasn’t glamorous work. I stocked shelves, bagged groceries, and spent more time wrestling shopping carts than I care to admit.

I remember thinking, “This is just a paycheck.” But over time, that little grocery store became something else entirely.

There was the older cashier, who called everyone “Honey” and could calm the crankiest customer with a wink. There was also the manager who never raised his voice but somehow made you want to do better. And there were the regulars — the ones who showed up every Thursday for bread and milk, or just to talk to someone who’d listen.

I started to notice things I’d never paid attention to before. The tired dad who worked night shifts still finding a smile for his kids. The widow who counted out change in nickels and dimes but left the last cookie sample for someone else.

That store taught me more than I ever imagined. About patience. About showing up when I didn’t feel like it. About giving my best, even when nobody noticed.

It reminds me of what Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 15:10: “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain.” I can see now that every small task, every moment of showing up, was God’s grace quietly shaping me from the inside out.

Funny thing — I thought I was earning money, but I was really learning character. The kind that gets built one small choice at a time, in ordinary places with sticky floors and fluorescent lights.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s where God does His best work — right there in the middle of the everyday, quietly shaping us while we think we’re just bagging groceries.

Maybe the same is true for you. Maybe the thing that feels small or unseen is the very thing God is using to grow you. The ordinary work. The thankless task. The daily faithfulness that nobody applauds. He is in all of it—teaching, refining, and shaping you in ways that only become clear later.

So wherever you find yourself today—keep showing up. Keep doing the next right thing. Because even in the most ordinary corners of life, God is writing something extraordinary.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Think back to your first job or a season that felt ordinary. How did God use that time to shape your character?
  • How does it change your perspective to realize that grace can be at work in small, everyday moments—not just big, spiritual ones?
  • What part of your daily routine might God be using to teach you patience, humility, or compassion?
  • Paul said God’s grace toward him “was not in vain.” How can you live today in a way that lets His grace bear fruit in you?
  • What’s one “ordinary” task this week you can approach as worship—doing it with gratitude, knowing God is in it?
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From Hiding to Joy

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Ephesians 5:8 — For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light.

The dinosaur pajama top had Eli trapped, and his mom was having a harder time getting it off than she expected.

Every tug made Eli squirm, and his frustration bubbled up in every little squeal. So she started hiding her face behind the shirt and popping out with a grin. “Peekaboo!”

Eli’s laughter erupted like tiny fireworks, and his two teeth shone in a gummy smile. His shirt tugged, the game continued, and suddenly peekaboo was everything to him.

Soon, it grew into hide-and-seek. Eli and his older sister, Maya, ran through the house in a blur of giggles and fun. Eli, thinking he was clever, crouched behind the couch careful not to be seen.

Maya would count, loud and patient, then creep forward, calling, “Where’s Eli?” Her voice danced around him. And just when he thought he had escaped, she’d leap from around the corner with a triumphant, “I got you!” and his laughter would erupt again, unstoppable.

Eli thought he was hidden, but of course, he wasn’t. He was visible all along.

Sitting on the couch, watching them, his mom felt a sudden pang and tenderness. She recognized this behavior. It reminded her of all the ways people, including herself, try to hide their own struggles, mistakes, pain, shame, and fear.

We tuck them away like they’re fragile treasures, hoping no one will notice. Hoping somehow we can escape being found. But God sees. People see. And hiding never heals. It only delays the comfort and connection that we’re wanting and needing all along.

She thought about Adam and Eve hiding in the garden. Even back then, God was asking where they were. He knew, but all along, it was a tender invitation back to love.

Eli’s laughter echoed again. Maya’s shout bounced off the walls. And in that moment, surrounded by sunlight and giggles and the smell of pancakes, Mom felt the truth: life is better when we are found. So come into the light.

Scripture says in Ephesians 5:8, “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light.”

So she leaned back and breathed in the noise, the chaos, the joy, the connection. Stop hiding, she thought. Let someone see. Let yourself be found.

Healing doesn’t start in secret. Healing starts in the laughter and the light. And when we finally stop hiding, the love that we wanted along can finally reach us.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What “hiding places” do you run to when you feel afraid, ashamed, or unworthy?
  • How does it change your view of God to remember that His call to “come into the light” is an invitation, not a condemnation?
  • When have you experienced the relief of being fully seen and still loved?
  • Who in your life might need your encouragement to “come into the light”?
  • What’s one small step you can take today to be more open—with God, with others, or even with yourself?
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Finding Hope After Disaster

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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

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Jesus Seen Through Us

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Ephesians 5:1-2 — Imitate God, therefore, in everything you do, because you are His dear children. Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ. He loved us and offered Himself as a sacrifice for us, a pleasing aroma to God.

I can still see her face.

She was a young girl from Venezuela—quiet, reserved, sitting among a crowd of American teenagers who barely noticed her.

She had come with a visiting missions team to help us prepare for a trip to her country. Later, I learned she didn’t even own proper clothes for the journey. Someone had to buy her something suitable to wear.

That Wednesday night, she slipped into our youth group meeting and took a seat in the back. Hands folded neatly in her lap. Eyes down.

No one greeted her. Not one person leaned over to ask her name. Conversations carried on like they always did—some girls whispered about what others were wearing, others laughed about their plans for Friday night.

And there she sat—still, quiet, listening. Then, when the music started, she watched as all those same girls who had ignored her moments before raised their hands high in worship.

It’s funny—Ephesians 5:1–2 tells us to “Imitate God, therefore, in everything you do, because you are His dear children. Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ.” That night, I realized how easy it is to worship with our lips but forget to love with our actions.

Later, her team leader invited her to speak. She walked to the front, her steps soft but sure, and began to pray in Spanish. Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with reverence. Every word seemed to hum with sincerity, filling the room. Even without a translation, we could feel it.

Then she began to speak in English—clear, gentle, and steady. And the room went still. That’s when it hit us: she had heard everything said earlier. Every careless word. Every unkind comment.

Yet there she stood—with grace.

Her voice was warm. Her message hopeful. She spoke of love, of faith, of service, and invited us to come to her country.

That moment changed me. I saw how easy it is to talk about God’s love without actually showing it. Her faith wasn’t something she wore—it was something she lived.

Real faith isn’t proven by what we say or sing. It’s proven by how we love the person standing right in front of us. Because when we love like that young woman did, we’re imitating the heart of Jesus Himself—the One who loved us first and offered Himself completely for us.

That’s where people begin to see Jesus for who He really is.

— Mark Hall, Casting Crowns

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Have you ever missed an opportunity to show love because you were focused elsewhere? How might God be calling you to slow down and see people this week?
  • Ephesians 5:1–2 invites us to “live a life filled with love.” What does that look like in practical terms in your home, workplace, or church?
  • When was the last time you saw someone live out Christ’s love in a way that challenged or inspired you?
  • How can you make your faith visible through kindness, humility, or inclusion today?
  • Who in your life might need to feel God’s love through your actions right now?

L Y R I C S

It’s crowded in worship today
As she slips in trying to fade into the faces
The girls’ teasing laughter is carrying farther than they know
Farther than they know

But if we are the body
Why aren’t His arms reaching?
Why aren’t His hands healing?
Why aren’t His words teaching?
If we are the body
Why aren’t His feet going?
Why is His love not showing them there is a way?
‘Cause there is a way

A traveler is far away from home
And he sheds His coat and quietly sinks into the back row
The weight of their judgmental glances
Tells him that His chances are better out on the road

But if we are the body
Why aren’t His arms reaching?
Why aren’t His hands healing?
Why aren’t His words teaching?
If we are the body
Why aren’t His feet going?
Why is His love not showing them there is a way?

‘Cause Jesus paid much too high a price
For us to pick and choose who should come
We are the body of Christ

If we are the body
Why aren’t His arms reaching?
Why aren’t His hands healing?
Why aren’t His words teaching?
If we are the body
Why aren’t His feet going?
Why is His love not showing them there is a way?
Jesus is the way
Ooh, ooh
Jesus is the way
Ooh, ooh

Writers: Mark Hall

© 2003 My Refuge Music / Be Essential Songs (BMI)

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Hold on a Little Longer

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1 Peter 5:10 — And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.

Growth can be uncomfortable. I am learning this from my eight-month-old son, Lennox. His teeth are popping up seemingly out of nowhere. He is usually a happy baby, but lately, I have noticed him needing more comfort than usual.

He gnaws on his toy, fusses against my shoulder, and cries though nothing seems to help. Watching him struggle is so hard, and as a mom, I wish I could take the pain away.

Deep down, I know that this discomfort is actually good for him in the long term. It means something new is coming. Teeth! And as I look at him, I see myself.

Because sometimes faith can feel just like this.

You pray for change, and it comes, but not the way you expect. It comes through stretching, through waiting, and through unexpected pain.

In those moments, I think of what 1 Peter 5:10 promises: “And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.”

I pick Lennox up, rock him gently, and hold him close. His small body is tense, but gradually he begins to relax. Watching him finally fall asleep, I think about how growth is not always easy, but the struggle is part of the process.

So, let this be your reminder that the discomfort you feel might actually be a sign that you are about to breakthrough. Something is pressing and happening, slowly but surely, just beneath the surface of the struggle.

If you are in that place now, tired from all the stretching and aching, hold on a little longer. Sometimes discomfort really means “you’re almost there.”

Growth hurts but it matters. And your breakthrough is right around the corner.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What kind of “growing pains” are you walking through right now—spiritual, emotional, or relational?
  • How does 1 Peter 5:10 encourage you to see your current struggle as part of a greater story of restoration and strength?
  • When have you experienced God “holding” you through a painful season, much like Bri held her son?
  • What might “trusting the process” look like for you this week, even if you can’t yet see the purpose behind the discomfort?
  • Can you think of a time when what once hurt deeply later became a place of strength or testimony?
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