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

Psalms 9:1 — “I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.”

There are moments when life slows down. It’s like the whole world has paused and is holding its breath to see what happens next.

That’s how it felt in the at work that day. I was on the couch, laptop open, trying to focus. My wife Sarah was there. Her stepmom, GiGi, too—watching Reese for us.

Our little girl was still in that almost-walking stage—testing the waters, clinging to furniture, never daring to cross the open floor. Like many nervous parents, we wondered if we would ever see her take those first steps.

Don’t get me wrong. Reese had always been right on time with her development, so there was nothing to worry about. But for Sarah and me, this felt like our one hope right under the surface.

Then, out of nowhere, that little one-year-old got up and moved. As she lunged forward, I could tell she had it.

No wall. No couch. No hands. Just Reese, swaying, wide-eyed and toddling. One step, two, three, four, five. Five seconds of wobbly, glorious motion before she fell into her mama’s arms.

And it took my breath away.

In that Kodak moment, I felt everything. My whole chest swelled, my face flushed, and goosebumps covered my arms.

Fast-forward a few weeks, and she was running everywhere—into every room—climbing every surface, and moving faster than we could keep up. Those five seconds just became part of the everyday. I didn’t realize, along the way, that I had stopped noticing.

That’s the danger, isn’t it? God gives us moments that take our breath away, and then we just… move on.

God answers prayers, opens doors, and carries us into new places. But if we’re not careful, the extraordinary starts to feel ordinary. We begin walking like it’s no big deal, forgetting what it was like to take that first step.

So, I’ve been learning to slow down, to notice, and to remember with gratitude those days where I prayed for what I have right now.

Maybe today is ordinary. Maybe it’s messy. But what if you walk with God through it the way Reese wobbled across that break room floor—wide-eyed and expectant?

It might just take your breath away all over again.

Proverbs 3:27 — “Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it.”

I am not sure I would enjoy back-to-school shopping these days.

I loved it back in the 80s. Back then, it was crayons instead of Chromebooks, aisles of clothes instead of apps, and number two pencils instead of passwords.

Mom and I would walk through the sliding glass doors of the department store, greeted by a blast of cool air and the smell of leather from the shoe department.

Racks of corduroy and plaid lined the aisles, and hangers clicked as families sorted through sizes. Over the store speakers, Cyndi Lauper or Huey Lewis played just loud enough for you to hum along.

We had our list—handwritten on notebook paper—tucked in Mom’s purse. There was no downloading a four-page PDF. No mobile app to check. Just a ballpoint pen to cross off items one by one.

I would head into the dressing room with armfuls of clothes, and she would wait outside, tilting her head and giving that look that said yes, no, or “maybe if it’s on sale.”

Sometimes we argued. I was sure those parachute pants were the answer to everything, but she disagreed. Still, we always left with our bags full and our spirits intact.

Those trips were more than errands. They were conversations in the car, food court pretzels with too much salt, and Coke Icees. They were the quiet moments when I knew, without her saying it, that she understood me better than anyone else.

Now, I see parents and adults in the thick of it—shopping from their phones in the pickup line, grabbing dinner between practices, and juggling logins and checklists. And I know many of them are wondering if they are making a difference in the lives of people God put in their lives.

But what if I told you that you still can?

Because for my mom, school shopping in the 80s was about building my confidence. That is what was top of her list. She also showed me she was glad to spend time with me. And she was curious. She asked questions that led to deeper connection.

See, that is something we are all still capable of doing. God is still equipping adults today to plant seeds for His kingdom.

So maybe the real question is not where you should shop but asking yourself: “whose backpack am I filling?”

Proverbs 11:25 — “A generous person will be enriched, and one who gives water will get water.”

The first time Gloria saw them, they were sitting close together, five little boys with eyes too old for their years. They had been left behind, and no one wanted them because they came as a set.

She had no husband and no savings worth talking about, but she had love. She knew it was not meant to stay locked up in her heart. So, Gloria brought them home.

Segun came first. Then Tunde. Then the twins, Ikenna and Ifeanyi, who doubled the noise in the house overnight. Last was Chuka, the baby, with his wide grin and sticky fingers.

It was not easy. There were hospital visits. School fees that never seemed to end. Nights when the cupboards were nearly bare. But there was also laughter—so much laughter. There were rainy days when they danced barefoot in the yard. There were Sunday mornings filled with biscuits and gravy and the sound of gospel music pouring out the windows.

They grew up faster than she wanted them to. One became a builder. Another started a charity. One moved far away to teach. Two wore police badges. But no matter where they went, they always came back home.

Then one day, they told Gloria to close her eyes.

Segun took his mother’s hand. Gravel crunched under their shoes as they led her forward.

When Gloria opened her eyes, she saw it. A brand-new house.

Now her brand-new house.

“You gave us a home when no one else would,” Tunde said. “Now it is our turn.”

She held her hands close to her heart, tears forming in her eyes.

She saw that God never lets love come back empty. She had given with the little she had, and God gave her a life richer than she could have ever imagined.

And I cannot help but wonder—if love can do this in that mother’s corner of the world, what could it do in yours?

Luke 6:38 — “Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.”

It was day one of the Live Original Conference. The covered plaza outside the Monroe civic center buzzed with the sound of women gathering, all coming to experience Jesus.

Knowing it would be a long day, I jumped into the concessions line to grab a drink. A few feet away, I spotted my friend Jade, and we started catching up.

The line moved slowly, but the conference was about to begin. When we finally reached the counter, the cashier told Jade they did not take Apple Pay. Her face fell. To get her drink, she would have to leave the line, find her debit card, and likely miss part of the opening event.

So I said, pulling out my card, “Don’t worry about it.”

She tried to say she would pay me back, but something inside nudged me to just help her—no strings attached.

I shook my head. “No, really. It’s on me.”

The next day, I found myself circling the merch booth, eyeing a hat I liked. I picked it up five times, then set it down again. Then I ran into Jade—already wearing that same hat.

I told her how much I liked it, and she smiled. “Do you want one?” she asked. Apparently, someone had gifted hers, and she wanted to do the same for me.

As I held that hat, I thought back to the concession line. It felt like a full circle moment.

No one planned it. No one kept score. But somehow, the kindness I gave away found its way back. That is the power of generosity—it does not stay in one place. It travels. It multiplies.

And it is never wasted. Sometimes the smallest spark can light up a whole community. God can use one act of generosity to cause a domino effect that shows back up when you least expect it.

This is the best part. You do not have to plan it. Someone just has to start it.

So why not you?

Psalms 90:12 — “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”

Sometimes, when the house is quiet and Lennox is napping, I find myself scrolling through my phone. My feed is full of “mom content”—sweet little videos of babies laughing or taking their first steps, with soft music and captions playing in the background.

At first, it feels comforting—a brief escape from responsibilities. But then the captions hit: “They’ll never be this little again.” “You only get eighteen summers.” “You’re going to miss this.”

And there it is—that sinking, anxious feeling in my stomach. I came here to relax, but instead I’m face to face with the truth that time is slipping through my fingers.

Then all the questions start: Am I doing enough? Am I making the most of these moments I will never get back?

It sounds so dramatic, but it honestly makes me sad.

The joy I feel playing with Lennox slowly shifts into a panic. Things will never be the same. But in one of those moments, God spoke to my heart.

“He’s supposed to grow. He’s supposed to change.”

I sat with that truth. Lennox growing and changing is proof that he is alive. Thinking about how the good times don’t last always ever steals the beauty of the “right now.”

I want to encourage you with the same thing too. Change is scary, but I believe the best thing we can do is surrender all the good things back to Jesus.

So, I’m practicing open hands.

I take in the sweetness, I thank God for it, and then I release it back to Him. I choose to love Lennox today, and to trust God with His tomorrow.

And maybe years from now, when he is taller than me, I’ll understand this better. The best way to keep a moment is to fully live it.

Romans 8:31 — “What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?”

Chris Tomlin had written worship songs before—plenty of them. Some had topped charts. Others quietly made their way into small-town churches and across campgrounds, sanctuaries, and stadiums alike.

But this one didn’t start with him.

One day, producer and songwriter Ed Cash sent over a chorus—just a rough draft. “Our God is greater, our God is stronger…” No polish, no bridge. Just a line that wouldn’t let go.

Chris couldn’t explain why, but something in him leaned forward when he heard it. He knew it wasn’t meant to simply sound good or get a crowd on their feet. It was meant to be deeper. These weren’t lyrics for show. They were words for anyone who had ever wondered if God had forgotten them.

As time went on, the team built more lines around the chorus. “God, You are higher than any other.” The song took shape fast. In ministry, not everything does, but this one did.

In the weeks leading up to the young adult conference, Passion 2010, there were flights, rehearsals, and last-minute changes. The usual. The work was constant, but Chris kept circling back to the same prayer—Let them see You, not me.

When the band took the stage in that packed arena, the energy was high. Lights, movement, sound, but what hit hardest wasn’t volume—it was clarity of the chorus.

“Our God is greater. Our God is stronger. God, You are higher than any other.”

That wasn’t just a moment for college students overwhelmed by the weight of their futures. No, it is something that still reaches people now. People like you—who’ve been doing your best to stay faithful in the small, hidden places. Who have carried prayers for years with no answers in sight. Who wonder if God is still paying attention.

So maybe today, instead of mustering up your own strength, you just need to lean on what’s already true:

“And if our God is for us, then who could ever stop us?”

Not because you feel strong, but because He is.

Not because everything is clear, but because He is still certain.

And, like Chris and his friends that day, I hope you’ll find that the same words to sing as God carries you forward.

 

OUR GOD

Verse 1
Water You turned into wine
Opened the eyes of the blind
There’s no one like You
None like You

Verse 2
Into the darkness You shine
Out of the ashes we rise
There’s no one like You
None like You

Chorus
Our God is greater
Our God is stronger
God You are higher than any other
Our God is healer
Awesome in power our God our God

Bridge
And if our God is for us
Then who could ever stop us
And if our God is with us
Then what could stand against
And if our God is for us
Then who could ever stop us
And if our God is with us
Then what could stand against
(Then) what could stand against


CCLI Song # 5677416
Chris Tomlin | Jesse Reeves | Jonas Myrin | Matt Redman
© 2010 sixsteps Music (Admin. by Integrity Music)

Matthew 22:39 — “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

It happened on a Thursday night that went sideways in a hurry. One minute, the sky and seas were calm, then—boom—not so much.

Locals say the wind went from gentle to howling in about the time it takes to butter toast. Unfortunately, that was exactly the same time that a couple paddled out into the sea on their kayak.

Now, to be fair, nobody’s faulting them. They probably thought they’d squeeze in one last paddle before dinner with their dogs. And it would’ve stayed sweet, if not for the New Jersey sky deciding to throw a temper tantrum.

In seconds the winds picked up immensely, and their kayak flipped. The woman and her dogs went one way. The man went another.

People started gathering on porches and decks, holding their breath at the scene.

And then came the hero. Brennan.

“He just ran,” said one of the neighbors. “Full sprint. Down the dock. Gone.”

He leapt straight into the chaos, paddling furiously, and one by one—pulled them back. First one dog, then the second. Then the woman. By that time, the man had managed to grab hold of a dock, wet and shaken but safe.

It all happened so fast. And then it was over. Everyone said the same thing: “If Brennan hadn’t been there…”

Well. He was.

And here’s the part you may not expect: Brennan wasn’t a local business owner. Brennan was one of the dogs. A Labrador retriever who didn’t hesitate to launch himself into danger for the sake of his people.

That’s the thing about love—it doesn’t overthink. It doesn’t weigh the odds. It just runs straight into the storm when someone’s in need.

Jesus said the greatest commandment is to love God—and the second is like it: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:39). That kind of love isn’t always convenient, and it doesn’t always make sense. But it’s exactly what this world needs.

So maybe the question today is: Who around you needs you to run into the storm for them?

Because if a dog named Brennan can do it… surely we can too.

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.

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.

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.”