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

Only God Could Do This

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Zechariah 4:6 – “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of hosts.”

There were no backup singers. No retakes. Just one quiet studio, one open mic, and one woman asking God to do what only He could.

Taya had no idea that day would change her life.

She was not trying to amaze anyone. In fact, she was a little unsure why she had been asked to sing this new song at all. But she showed up, steady and open, hoping the Holy Spirit would meet her in the moment.

They pressed record.

And she sang.

“You call me out upon the waters…”

Each line asked something deeper of her, and she felt it.

She continued, “Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders”

At this point she was praying. Every note felt like walking further out on water. Her heart raced, but she kept going. Just obedience. One step. Then another.

When it ended, no one said much. There was no breakdown of how to fix it. No call for a second take. Just a quiet kind of peace that settled in the room.

So, they left it. One take. Done.

And somehow, that raw, trembling take spread farther than anyone could have dreamed. Not for a week. Not for a month. But for 61 non-consecutive weeks at the top of the charts.

But maybe that was the point.

The track wasn’t impressive. It was honest, Spirit-led, and that made all the difference.

People ask her now what it felt like to sing a song that became a global anthem. She smiles, sometimes a little stunned. Because she knows—that wasn’t me.

It was never about her voice. It was about what the Spirit was doing behind the scenes—moving hearts, calming storms, calling people out onto deep waters.

And maybe that’s where God meets us best—not when we’re confident, but when we’re completely out of our depth.

Because the world doesn’t need more perfect voices.

It needs more people willing to step in faith.

 

Oceans (where feet may fail)

VERSE 1:
You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep my faith will stand

CHORUS:
I will call upon Your Name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

VERSE 2:
Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You’ve never failed and You won’t start now

BRIDGE:
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Saviour

LAST CHORUS:
I will call upon Your Name
Keep my eyes above the waves
My soul will rest in Your embrace
I am Yours and You are mine

Words and Music by
Matt Crocker, Joel Houston & Salomon Ligthelm
© 2012 Hillsong Music Publishing (APRA).

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It Should Have Been Me

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1 Peter 2:24 – “He Himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.”

The pain was instant.

Lacey had only taken two steps into the bathroom when something sliced deep into the heel of her foot. She gasped, stumbled backward, and gripped the sink to keep from falling. It took a moment to even register what had happened. Then she saw it—the razor, fallen unnoticed from the edge of the tub, now streaked with her blood.

She sat down slowly, trying to breathe through the sharp sting, a wad of tissue pressed against the cut. Her mind raced—what if it had been Max? Or Dallas? They run barefoot through here every single day.

And then, just like that, a strange, quiet thought settled into her: “I’m thankful it was me.”

She meant it. Every word.

If someone had to be hurt, if someone had to feel this pain, let it be her. She could handle it. Not her boys. She would take it a thousand times over for them.

And as she sat there in the stillness, something even deeper hit her. This is what Jesus did.

He saw the suffering. The agony. The unthinkable pain ahead. And still, He stepped toward it—on purpose. Not because He had to. But because He loved us. Because He wanted to shield us from it.

In that quiet, blood-streaked moment, Lacey realized something she had known all her life but had never truly felt—Jesus didn’t just die for the world. He chose the pain for her.

She sat there, not just hurting—but grateful. And deeply moved.

That is what love does. It steps in. It says, “Let it be me.”

So, what if we lived like that was true? What if today was shaped by gratitude, not guilt? Because the pain we were spared was no accident. It was love. And it was on purpose.

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Free to Forgive

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Matthew 18:21-22 – Then Peter came up and said to him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times.”

We weren’t trying to be extravagant. We just wanted to build a simple life together. So there we were, walking hand in hand through aisles of home goods, scanning dish towels and cutting boards, picturing a quiet little future—dinner at our own table, slow mornings, a couch we could call ours.

The joy was real. But I wasn’t prepared for what it would feel like to be given so much.

When the showers came, the gifts piled up faster than we could open them. We unwrapped things we had picked out together—yes—but each one felt different when it was placed in our hands by people who cared about us. I felt overwhelmed, honestly. Undeserving. These weren’t things we earned. They were acts of kindness. Unmerited gifts. And they taught me something before we ever used a single one.

Now, a few years in, marriage feels less like a gift registry and more like a full-time lesson in patience. Bills arrive. Communication gets messy. Some weekends feel more like negotiations than rest. And it turns out, even when you love someone deeply, forgiveness does not always come naturally.

But that’s what makes grace so powerful—it is still undeserved.

Two years into marriage, I still think about those boxes. We use the dishes. We burn the candle someone gave us. And we’ve also had the hard talks. The moments when we don’t see eye to eye. The ones where forgiveness is not easy or quick. It can feel easier to hold onto frustration than to lay it down.

But then I remember: someone once gave me something I didn’t deserve. And that someone else—Jesus— paid the ultimate price for me to receive it. Unmerited forgiveness.

That’s what forgiveness is. A gift. Not cheap, not convenient, and certainly not deserved. But freely given. And when I think about how deeply I’ve been forgiven, it softens something in me. It helps me step toward love again, even when pride wants to stay put.

You have the power to give someone what they didn’t earn—just like it was given to you. Grace does not ignore the hurt; it just refuses to be defined by it. What might happen if you gave that kind of love today?

70 X 7 by CHRIS AUGUST | Listen Now

[Verse 1]
I’ve been living in this house here
Since the day that I was born
These walls have seen me happy
But most of all they’ve seen me torn
They’ve heard the screaming matches
That made a family fall apart
They’ve had a front row seat
To the breaking of my heart

[Chorus 1]
Seven times, seventy times
I’ll do what it takes to make it right
I thought the pain was here to stay
But forgiveness made a way
Seven times, seventy times
There’s healing in the air tonight
I’m reaching up to pull it down
Gonna wrap it all around

[Verse 2]
I remember running down the hallway
Playin’ hide and seek
I didn’t know that I was searching
For someone to notice me
I felt alone and undiscovered
And old enough to understand
Just when I’m supposed to be learning to love
You let me down again

[Chorus 1]
Seven times, seventy times
I’ll do what it takes to make it right
I thought the pain was here to stay
But forgiveness made a way
Seven times, seventy times
There’s healing in the air tonight
I’m reaching up to pull it down
Gonna wrap it all around

[Bridge]
I lost count of the ways you let me down
But no matter how many times
You weren’t around
I’m alright now
God picked up my heart and helped me through
And shined a light on the one thing left to do
And that’s forgive you
I forgive you

[Interlude]
Seven times, seventy times
If that’s the cost, I’ll pay the price

[Chorus 2]
Seven times, seventy times
I’ll do what it takes to make it right
I thought the pain was here to stay
But forgiveness made a way
Seven times, seventy times
There’s healing in this house tonight
I’m reaching up to pull it down
Gonna wrap it all around
Yeah, I’m gonna wrap it all around

[Outro]
I’ve been living in this house here
Since the day that I was born

Writers: Ed Cash, Chris August

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How We Used to Trust

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Matthew 18:3 – “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

The best days started with a camper door swinging open and bare feet hitting dirt. Jimmy Davis State Park was our whole world in the summer, and we ruled it like royalty—with bike helmets too loose and hearts too full to care.

We rode fast, never cautious. We skidded through puddles at the boat ramp, climbed every tree we could reach, and made friends without asking names. No schedules, no screens, no fences. Just the sweet, wild space of being young and alive.

By evening, we’d gather around picnic tables, smelling like sun and lake water, drawn in by the scent of burgers on the grill. The stars blinked on overhead like they were proud of us.

Those days left a mark. Not just in the photo albums, but deep in my memory—because we weren’t just having fun. We were free. Fully alive, fully ourselves, and deeply certain that we were safe and cared for.

And I wonder… why did we stop living like that?

The world is louder now. More guarded. And yet I still catch myself longing for something I can’t quite name. Until I remember: that sense of freedom was never about the campground—it was about trust.

That’s what children do best. They trust. Fully. Freely. Without trying to control what’s next.

Jesus once said the kingdom belongs to people like that. People who still dare to believe before they see.

So maybe this isn’t just nostalgia. Maybe it’s a reminder. That childlike trust is not something we grow out of—it’s something we’re called back to.

And maybe it’s not too late to live like that again.

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From Frustration to Fulfillment

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Psalms 34:17-18 – “When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”

She hit send—and then just sat there, staring at the screen.

Adriene had filled out so many applications that the process felt mechanical. But this one broke her. She was tired of pretending she wasn’t falling apart.

The tears came before she could stop them. She buried her face in her hands.

Six months ago, her husband left. The silence he left behind was deafening. Her grief bled into her job until she lost that, too. And now she was trying—again—to piece something back together. But the trying felt pointless.

That night, something shifted. She didn’t talk herself out of the emotion. She didn’t tell herself to be strong. Instead, she walked to the side of her bed, knelt on the floor, and told the truth.

“God, I don’t know what to do. I need Your help. Please—just put me where I’m needed.”

It wasn’t eloquent. But it was real.

And something about that moment—raw, unfiltered surrender—opened the door to what came next.

Within weeks, Adriene got the call. A job that fit her perfectly. A schedule that let her care for her kids. A sense of purpose she hadn’t felt in months.

But the real turning point wasn’t the job.

It was the prayer.

The moment she stopped pushing and started trusting. The moment she stopped talking herself into hope and just brought her whole weary heart before God.

THAT IS WHAT CHANGED EVERYTHING!

If you are standing at the end of yourself, trying to hold the pieces, please hear this: You are not forgotten. The same God who met Adriene on the carpet can meet you right where you are. You do not have to prove anything. Just be honest. God’s might is matched only by His tenderness. He can carry what you cannot.

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Safe to be Honest

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Psalm 62:8 – Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us.

Kara slammed her Bible shut and whispered under her breath, “I can’t do this anymore.”

From the outside, no one would have guessed she was struggling. She had been showing up—smiling, hosting Bible study, bringing snacks to the women’s retreat. But her heart had grown tired. Bitter, even. And underneath the surface, there was a kind of anger she did not want to admit.

She was not angry at people. Not even at herself. But at God.

Kara didn’t grow up in a home where you told God you were mad. No, you honored Him. You trusted Him. You got over it. So instead of admitting how she felt, she shoved it down and piled good works on top of it. But the weight of pretending started to wear her out.

She never said it out loud. Not until one evening, alone in her bedroom, when she snapped her Bible shut.

“I’m doing everything right,” She shouted. “So why do You feel so far away? God, I’m mad at you.”

For a moment, she braced herself—for guilt or for more of God’s silence. But no, that’s not what happened. She felt like God was saying, I know.

For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t pushing Him away with her pain. She was bringing her pain to Him. That small act—saying what she really felt—became the first step back toward trusting God.

And she realized something: God had never left. He was not disappointed in her for feeling human.

She did not forgive God because He was wrong. He wasn’t. But she let go of the silent resentment she felt toward Him that had built up between them.

Maybe you’re there, too. Maybe your prayers feel empty, and your faith feels thin. Maybe you’re carrying anger, confusion, or grief that you don’t know how to let go of. God is not afraid of your emotions—no matter how messy, no matter how raw. All you need to do is come as you are. He can take it.

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Letting the Light In

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Ephesians 5:8 “For at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light.”

You know that feeling when you walk into a room and wonder if anyone would still like you if they knew the whole story? That was me. Smiling. Friendly. Just fine. But only on the outside.

Shame is strange like that. It disguises itself—sometimes as strength, other times as silence. For years, I carried pieces of my story around like they were too broken or too messy to hand over to anyone else.

That’s why I almost skipped my church’s women’s retreat. I had a long list of excuses—too tired, too busy, not really up for small talk. But something nudged me to say yes. Maybe I just needed a break. Maybe I thought I’d leave feeling spiritually recharged.

The weekend started simple enough. Casual conversations. Iced coffee in hand. A few laughs over who snored the loudest. I figured I could get through this just fine without ever being seen too deeply.

Then one woman stood up and shared her story. She was just…honest. Through tears in her eyes she shared about sin in her life. About pain she had walked through. About what she needed God to do in her life that weekend.

It was so brave.

Then one by one other women began to open up too. I watched in awe as the community of women prayed over each lady, believing God for breakthrough.

I hadn’t planned to say anything. But when the moment came, I opened up about the shame and guilt I had been carrying for so long.

And when the women circled around me and prayed, I felt something I never expected to—relief. It was a risk to speak it out loud, to tell the truth without knowing how it would land. But instead of judgment, they met me with compassion. Some of them even had stories like mine.

With everything laid out in the open, it felt like light finally reached the places I thought God could never touch. I hadn’t even realized how badly I needed it or how long I had been carrying it all alone.

Shame and guilt had kept me from forgiving myself and moving forward. They had kept me silent. But that moment when I said it out loud for the first time, it didn’t break me. It freed me.

You do not have to hide your story to protect others or to prove you have moved on. That is not freedom. Freedom is walking into the light, even if your voice shakes. It is trusting that your story—honest and messy—is still worth telling. Because when we bring our past and our pain into the light, healing can finally begin.

And if you’re still carrying yours alone—I hope you’ll risk sharing it. Not because it’s easy. But because healing begins when silence ends.

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The Blessings in the Pain

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Romans 5:3-4 “Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.”

Laura didn’t expect Facebook to hurt. But somehow, it did.

She had just signed up for it, like everyone else she knew. It was new. Easy. Harmless. A place to scroll through happy faces, birthday dinners, and funny stories from people she hadn’t seen since high school.

The only problem was that their picture-perfect highlights looked nothing like the life she was living.

Not long before, she and her husband, Martin, sat in a sterile hospital room, listening to words no one ever wants to hear. Brain tumor. Surgery. Risks. She held her breath, hoping for healing. He survived—but the man who came home was not the same. His memory slipped. His vision blurred, and he struggled with basic skills.

While other people posted milestone moments, Laura sat in rehab waiting rooms, coaching her husband through how to button a shirt.

Facebook became unbearable. Everyone else seemed to be moving forward. Her life had slammed to a halt. Eventually, she stopped opening the app altogether. It hurt too much to compare her pain to their joy.

She stopped scrolling, and started praying. Not polished prayers. Just questions. She brought her anger and grief. And somehow, God didn’t flinch. Even when she had nothing to say.

In time, they found their way. It was not a perfect life, but it was still life. And it was theirs.

Later, sitting at the piano, Laura put words to what her heart had learned the hard way:

“Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near?
And what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?”

Friend, we can be so quick to scroll past pain—to hide it, mute it, deny it. But what if it is the very place God chooses to meet us? And the God who walks with us through fire is faithful to shape even our suffering into something good.

 

Lyrics

We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand
To ease our suffering
And all the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near?
And what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?

We pray for wisdom, Your voice to hear
And we cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your word is not enough
And all the while, You hear each desperate plea
And long that we’d have faith to believe

‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near?
And what if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise?

When friends betray us
And when darkness seems to win, we know
The pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It’s not our home

‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near?
What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst
This world can’t satisfy?

And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are Your mercies in disguise?

Songwriters: Laura Mixon Story
Blessings lyrics © New Spring Publishing Inc., Laura Stories, New Spring Publishing Inc.

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When Life Feels Unfair

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Revelation 21:4 “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Now listen—I was not sitting around in sackcloth and ashes waiting on Prince Charming to ride up in a pickup truck. I was thirty-nine and career bound. I had a good life. I paid my bills, planned vacations, and had great friends.

But for as long as I could remember my mom always dreamed about my wedding day. I know she meant well, and she was praying for grandkids. But I was not ready for my Big Fat Greek Wedding quite yet.

Fast forward six years, and there I was, in lace and lipstick, about to experience my own happily-ever-after. But my heart was broken. No. Livid.

I knew Mom was supposed to live to be 120 or at least until Jesus would come back down in the clouds. So how was it possible that cancer could take her from this world before my wedding day? She never smoked, did aerobics faithfully, and only ever ate health food.

So, before I could say my country nuptials, I walked down by the pond, sat on the dock, and just stared at the water. I tried to remember what her voice sounded like. I tried to picture her smile.

But all I could do was whisper, “You were supposed to be here.”

The wind didn’t answer, and the skies didn’t part, but deep down, I knew I was not alone. I sensed the nearness of God—not fixing it, not explaining it—but sitting right there beside me.

Family, I would never have written the story this way, but I am learning that God can be trusted with pages that feel torn and unfinished.

There is a whole lot in this life that won’t ever feel fair, but I believe with everything in me that God still knows what He is doing. One day, we will see it all made right, but until then, He is able to redeem even our deepest pain in ways we never expected.

 He sees what we’ve lost. He holds what we cannot. If all you can do today is breathe and believe He’s still good, start there. There is healing, even now, and He is not through yet.

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Face to Face Love

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Numbers 6:24–25 “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you.”

It started with a simple desire. I just wanted my boys to know, deep in their bones, that they are loved.

We were standing in the kitchen. Life was moving fast, and like most families, we were living in the blur of busy. But that day, I paused and looked at Jesse, then Jon David, and said, “Let’s try something.”

I asked them to look at me—to really look me in the eyes. I held their gaze for a moment and simply said, “I love you.”

You know, that kind of vulnerable honesty takes people off guard, especially teenage boys. They laughed a little. It was that one that is half embarrassed, half unsure what to do with something so sincere, but they looked back. And they said it too.

It was weird, but we did it anyway.

And then we did it again the next day. And the next.

Day by day, gaze by gaze, we let the weirdness wear off, and eventually, something beautiful took its place. Now, we lock eyes, we hold the silence, and we say the words. And somehow—just in that simple act—it has become one of the most grounding, grace-filled things in our relationship.

Somewhere along the way, I started thinking about that ancient blessing from Scripture: “The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious unto you.”

That image has stayed with me—God’s face turned toward us, beaming with love. Not rushing. Not distracted. Just fully present.

That was what I wanted my boys to know. Not just that they’re loved in theory or in passing—but that my love for them is steady and intentional. I want them to recognize that kind of love by the look on my face.

When it comes to showing someone that you love them, your face is the place! Just like God’s face shines on us with His love, we can let others know we love them by looking them in the eyes, holding their gaze, and expressing love sincerely.

So, the next time you are with someone you love, try it. Pause. Look them in the eyes. Let the moment be a little awkward if it needs to be, and then say the words.

Let them see it in your face.

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