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

Not What I Planned

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Psalms 27:14 — “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”

Was there ever a time when you were so sure about something, you never even thought to ask God what He thought?

That was me in college. I was twenty-one, a student at Oral Roberts University, and had been dating someone for three and a half years. We were sitting in chapel together one morning, and I remember looking around and thinking, “Everyone’s getting married, so of course we will too.”

It felt like the obvious next step—like the world had handed me a checklist, and I was just moving down it. But underneath the excitement, something did not sit right. I had not prayed about it. I had not invited the Lord into that decision.

But God did have other plans—and He was kind enough to interrupt mine.

His message was quiet but clear: “You are going to have to trust Me.”

With that, I knew. I could not marry that young man, and this was not just about walking away from a relationship. It was about surrendering the future I thought I needed.

That was the hardest part, and truth be told, I did not get married until I was forty-four.

Now, when I talk with people who are single, I do not offer easy answers or pat advice. I simply say this: unless God shows you beyond a shadow of a doubt, you do not have to force anything.

And this goes beyond relationships. In every part of life—decisions about work, friendships, calling—ask Him what He has for you. When you bring your whole life before Him, hands open, heart ready, you can move forward with a confidence that is not rooted in outcomes but in trust.

When you believe Him enough to wait, something shifts. You stop chasing what was never yours. Your peace grows deeper, and your steps grow steadier.

Your path may not look like anyone else’s. It may take longer, but Dear One, if it is built on trust, it will be worth it—every time.

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The Friend Who Makes A Way

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Galatians 6:2 – Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.

I try to imagine it, that story found in the Bible.

The air is thick with dust and curiosity. This is not some ordinary Tuesday in Galilee. No, ma’am. The Teacher is in town.

The streets are packed tighter than your aunt’s freezer before the holidays. Every soul within walking distance is pushing into that little house, leaning in to hear Jesus speak.

And then there is me — or at least, the me I am imagining. Flat on a mat. My legs have not worked since before I can remember, and I’ve been stuck there so long. Life has been happening around me, but it’s not like I can enjoy any of it.

So, I just resigned myself to being part of the scenery.

Until my friends showed up. They did not give me a chance to refuse; they just scooped me up and said we were going to see Jesus.

They carried me down the street, weaving through the crowd. When we could not get in, I assumed we would go home, but they just looked at each other, grinned, and climbed the roof.

Then they started pulling apart clay tiles and thatching. A minute later, I am staring down where the roof used to be into eyes and stunned crowd below.

Dust in my hair, sun in my eyes, I was lowered right in front of Him. Jesus looked at me like He had known me all my life. And the first thing He did was heal the part of me no one could see. He said my sins were forgiven. My soul felt lighter than my legs ever could.

Then He says gives me this in wonderful instruction:

“Get up.”

And I did. Every muscle, tendon, and ligament worked in perfect harmony. When I looked up, I saw my friends grinning down from that roof like they had just pulled off the heist of the century.

So, as I imagine myself there, this is what I have been turning over in my mind — some of the greatest miracles happen because someone else’s faith carried us to Jesus.

But what’s more is this. Most people wait their whole lives for a friend like that.

Some people decide to be one.

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When Less is More

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Philippians 4:11 — “Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.”

The first thing you should know about Joshua is that he likes to hug. A lot.

“Bring it in, Bud!” he says every time he meets someone new. Again, he’s an enthusiastic, grinning, full-send hugger.

He is also what you might call a minimalists— someone who had it all, decided it wasn’t enough, and now lives with a lot less than most people think is practical.

He didn’t start out this way. He grew up in Ohio as a poor kid with big dreams. Like a lot of people raised without much, he chased that version of success that comes with keycards and cufflinks. By his late twenties, he was hauling in six figures and racking up frequent flyer miles.

But then life did what life does.

Joshua’s mother passed away. His marriage ended in the same month. He was just 28. He owned a large three-bedroom house and a job title longer than most church prayer lists, and he was miserable.

It was then that Joshua realized just how unhappy he was.

So, in the wake of all that, he started to let go. Of his stuff, that is. He moved into a smaller house, got rid of the TV, the DVDs, the furniture, and the backup spatula— basically everything that once gave the illusion of security. One by one, he cleared out his life.

But the miracle Joshua found, obviously, wasn’t the empty shelves.

It was the space that showed up in his soul.

See, the peace he found came when he stopped pretending that more would finally make him feel like enough. He once found identity in what he had, but now he was finding peace through surrendering all of that.

He discovered that when enough is finally enough, you realize you’ve had more than enough all along. You start hearing the birds outside again. You show up for dinner with both feet in the room. And you start hugging people. Alot.

That’s the thing no one tells you: when your arms aren’t carrying everything, they’re finally free to reach out.

So…

“Bring it in, Bud.”

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A Fire Worth Waiting For

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Lamentations 3:25-26 — “The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the soul who seeks Him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.”

In my family, a barbecue was never just a barbecue. You see, somebody always brought a casserole, someone else a guitar. Before the food ever hit the grill, we were already a few songs deep into our annual pickin’ and grinnin.’

That was normal for us. But one year, things got rowdy—fast.

Right as the music picked up, a scream came from the direction of the grill. Apparently, my sister—who has never been a fan of waiting on anything (least of all charcoal)—decided to hurry the process along.

In one dramatic moment, she squeezed a bottle of lighter fluid onto the coals, and flames exploded straight into the sky.

She screamed. We all jumped. And just like that, she was standing there, stunned, without a single eyebrow on her face.

Once we made sure she was okay, we laughed so hard we could barely breathe. But the truth is, it could have been a lot worse.

The moment became legendary in our family. Still, beneath the chaos, it taught us something we didn’t forget.

Rushing the process never works.

If you want those burgers ready by lunchtime, you better light that charcoal long before the hunger kicks in. And if you want something good to happen in your life, you’ve got to give it time. Pouring fuel on something just to make it go faster usually leads to more mess than progress.

That goes for dreams. That goes for healing. That goes for anything you’re waiting on.

Scripture tells us—again and again—to wait on God. Not because He’s slow, but because He’s wise. His pace isn’t punishment. It’s preparation. And when we push ahead without Him, we miss what was meant for us.

You can either trust that or learn the hard way.

So next time you’re tempted to rush God’s timing, just picture my sister standing in a cloud of smoke, holding an empty bottle of lighter fluid… with no eyebrows.

Because some things really are worth waiting for.

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The End Is Just the Beginning

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Isaiah 25:8 — “He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from all faces.”

There’s things you try to bury and run away from your entire life.

Bart Millard was only three when his parents divorced. His mom remarried and moved away, and it was decided that he and his brother would stay with their dad, Arthur.

Arthur Millard worked hard and stayed sober, but his temper ruled the house. Small things, like being cut off in traffic, could set him off, and Bart became his favorite target. He spent most of his childhood walking on eggshells, bracing for the next explosion.

But everything changed in high school when Arthur was diagnosed with cancer. The disease weakened his body—and, somehow, softened his heart. He gave his life to Jesus.

Almost overnight, he began to change. Bart, now his caregiver, had a front row seat to the transformation.

He started talking about grace and peace and love like they were more than words, and he lived it. The man who was once a monster became kind, gentle, and apologetic. Bart stopped fearing him and started thinking of him as his best friend.

They found something they never had before—until cancer took it away. And it wasn’t the past that hurt most. It was losing what they’d finally found.

At the funeral, Bart’s grandmother leaned in and whispered, “I can only imagine what your dad’s seeing now.”

That one line became a lifeline. Bart clung to it through grief, scribbling it on scraps, receipts, journals—anything. It gave him something to picture besides an empty house.

In time, Bart and a few others began the band MercyMe, and as they sat down to write one last song of their album he found inspiration in those old journals with “I can only imagine” scribbled across every page.

He wrote the song in just ten minutes, and the rest is history.

But that’s not the end of the story.

Today, when Bart closes his eyes and sings those words— “I Can Only Imagine”—he’s not just remembering what God did. He’s looking ahead to what God will do.

Because the gospel doesn’t stop at changed hearts or even gravesides. It carries on—into forever. Into a kingdom where there are no more regrets and no more goodbyes.

And the truth that steadied Bart through every wound and every loss still stands: if God can write that kind of ending for his father, He can write one for yours too. Or your sister. Or your friend. Or that person you’ve been praying for so long it hurts.

So, believe Him for the future.
Believe Him for your loved one.
Believe Him for what’s still ahead.

Because one day, we will finally see with our own eyes.

Can you only imagine it?

LYRICS  |  I CAN ONLY IMAGINE

I can only imagine what it will be like
When I walk by your side
I can only imagine what my eyes will see
When your face is before me
I can only imagine

Yeah

Surrounded by your glory
What will my heart feel
Will I dance for your Jesus
Or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence
Or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah
Will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine
I can only imagine

I can only imagine when that day comes
And I find myself standing in the Son
I can only imagine when all I will do
Is forever, forever worship you
I can only imagine, yeah
I can only imagine

Surrounded by your glory
What will my heart feel
Will I dance for your Jesus
Or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence
Or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah
Will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine
Yeah
I can only imagine

Surrounded by your glory
What will my heart feel
Will I dance for your Jesus
Or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence
Or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah
Will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine
Yeah
I can only imagine

I can only imagine
Yeah
I can only imagine
I can only imagine
I can only imagine

I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever, forever worship you

I can only imagine

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When Plans Fall Apart

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Proverbs 16:9 — “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”

Have you ever planned something so perfectly, only to have it fall apart when you least expect it? Unfortunately, last summer, this happened to my family.

David and I took a trip to Houston with my parents and six-month-old daughter for a church conference. Weeks before, I meticulously searched listings to find the perfect Airbnb for our stay. I looked at everything: prices, number of rooms, amenities. After comparing each home, I knew I had found the one.

The reviews were great, and the pictures looked so cute on the listing. I booked the place, and a few weeks later, we were on our way.

But when we opened the door, my stomach dropped. The smell hit me first. There was a thick, smoky haze that didn’t belong anywhere near a baby. The light overhead eerily flicked on and off, and I knew immediately this was not the safe, welcoming space we needed.

Disappointment washed over me. All my planning—wasted. I stood there, trying to breathe through the letdown, when my dad stepped in with a solution. Within an hour, he had us checked into a hotel that smelled like fresh towels and hand soap.

That night, as I watched our daughter sleep in her travel crib, I thought about how life doesn’t always follow my script. I can plan and plan, but sometimes things fall apart anyway. And yet, God shows up in the middle of it all—like a dad with a phone and a calm voice—pointing us toward a better place.

So, the next time life takes an unexpected turn, pause for a moment, look around, and trust that even the detour has purpose. Even if the destination is not the place you picked, trust Him. He will lead you to where you need to be.

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Speak Up But Speak Life

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Proverbs 18:21 — “Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits.”

If you have lived through a Louisiana summer, then you know—August is brutal.

And people are not shy about letting you know it. You hear it everywhere: “ Whew I am hot.” “It is miserable outside.” “I cannot take this.”

It is like the official small talk of summer.

Honestly, I have been guilty of it too. You do not even realize how often you say it until the words start to echo.

But a few days ago, it hit me: talking about how hot it is does not change the temperature. It does not make the sun go away. Complaining about a season does not make it pass.

That made me wonder, “What if our words are part of the problem?”

What if, instead of feeding frustration, we practiced shifting our focus? Maybe it is hot—but maybe that means your day just became slower. Maybe it is hot—but maybe you remember your vacation isn’t far away. Maybe it is hot—but that local snowball stand is open and has your favorite summertime flavors ready for you.

There will always be something to complain about. There will always be something we wish we could change. But the truth is, the more we talk about what is wrong, the more it takes root. And I am learning—if I want to feel lighter, I have to speak that way.

So, the next time you catch yourself getting ready to complain, pause for a second. You do not have to fake it. Just find the good. Find the beauty. Let your words lift you up, not drag you down.

Speak life. Even when it is hot.

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Rock Bottom Redemption

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Romans 1:16 — “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.”

The doctors said I would not wake up. My brother stood by my hospital bedside preparing for the worst, and still—somehow—I opened my eyes.

No one expected me to make it. I had overdosed in New Jersey, far from my family in Florida. My mom had died not long before, and my godmother was the one trying to hold my life together. She had promised my mom she would tell me about Jesus.

I thought it was sweet—maybe a little pushy—but I never took it seriously.

The truth is, I never knew Him. I had heard the stories. I saw a few videos, but I had no relationship with Him. Instead, I was pursuing what I wanted—modeling, acting, and partying in the city.

That world swallows you fast, and I let it.

Until it almost killed me.

In that coma, something happened that I still cannot fully explain. I saw Him. I saw Jesus. He came close and wrapped His arm around me like a friend and said, “Are you done?”

I knew what He meant because I was. I was done with the running, the pretending, and the pain.

And when I said yes, everything changed.

Jesus brought me back—body and soul. I woke up, confused and stunned, with hospital socks on my feet and my brother’s jaw on the floor. Since then, every day has been part of the comeback. I still mess up, still grow, but now I walk with the One who rescued me.

No, my life is not perfect, but it is His. He took the talents I once used for shallow things and turned them into tools for His story. I speak up because I cannot stay silent. I live for Him, not out of duty, but joy.

We get to live for Him. That is the honor of it all, and I will never be ashamed of that.

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Giving From What You’ve Received

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Hebrews 13:16 – “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.”

Rhonda poured coffee into her favorite mug. The radio hummed softly in the background, like a friend who knew too much but didn’t judge.

For twenty years, Christian radio had been there. Even in the mornings when the dishes were piled high, and when her children squabbled over cereal bowls. Even during her divorce, when everything she’d relied on felt like it was made of paper and could tear at any moment.

She had to pause her monthly giving back then. It hurt more than she expected. Not because the money was gone, but because that act of giving had been a rhythm that told her she was still a person who could extend kindness into the world.

But she never turned the station off. The songs still poured over her, spilling over laundry piles and homework papers. They reminded her of promises she had almost forgotten existed—things like God’s nearness, God’s faithfulness, and God’s care.

Years later, life had shifted in ways that were subtle and miraculous all at once. Bills balanced themselves more easily. Mornings felt lighter. Her heart no longer clenched at the sound of the phone ringing.

She could give again, and more than she ever had before. And as she clicked “submit” on her monthly donation, she realized it wasn’t about the money at all. It was about gratitude. It was about honoring the lifeline that had held her steady when she felt untethered.

The songs hadn’t just played. They had whispered that she could endure. That peace was possible. That even when life felt like it might unravel, God used her radio to help carry her all along.

And maybe that’s the thing: when something has carried you through the hard parts, it’s worth passing it on. Whether it’s a song, a word of encouragement, or a small act of generosity, there’s power in saying, “I remember how this felt, and I want someone else to know they can make it too.”

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Trusting Through the Thorns

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Romans 8:18 — “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”

Honeysuckle and honey bees.

Growing up in the country, I could spend hours walking the fence line of our horse pasture. That stretch of land was thick with flowers and wild blackberries. I would breathe in the honeysuckle—it was the kind of aroma you want to bottle up and keep forever.

I would pick blackberries until my fingers were stained purple. The metal bowl clinked with every drop. Then I would take them inside to Mama. She would pour evaporated milk over them and sprinkle sugar on top. That bowl was better than Dairy Queen—better than anything, really.

But those berries did not come easy. The vines were full of stickers and prickers. To pick even a small bowl meant taking your time, moving slow, steady, and careful. If you got in a hurry or grabbed too quick, those thorns would draw blood.

It took precision. Patience. A little pain, too. But again, it was worth the scratches.

The older I get, the more I see how life works the same way. It will poke and prod and prick you along the way—especially when you dare to dream big, when you want to follow what God has placed on your heart. He never promised a smooth path. He never said the thorns would not come. But He did say He would be with you.

So if the road feels rough today, if your hands feel scratched from doing the right thing—keep going. The reward is real. The sweetness is still ahead.

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