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

Time to Train Your Thoughts

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Isaiah 26:3 — You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.

I am sitting at my kitchen table with my Bible open, sticky notes scattered like confetti around me.

I wanted some new habits. Better ones. Ones that didn’t make me spiral every time a negative thought showed up uninvited. But habits are funny like that. They sound inspiring until they get hard and ask for consistency.

How long does it take to form a habit? Twenty-one days? Sixty-six? Two hundred and something? I Googled it of course. Every article disagreed, but they all circled back to the same word: repetition. Do it again. Then do it again tomorrow and again when you don’t feel like it.

And our minds have habits too don’t they?

I had a conversation with my friend about this, and it keeps replaying in my mind. She’s starting a food diary this year. She’s measuring portions, tracking macros, and trying to learn what works and what doesn’t.

She told me it was exhausting and confusing and kind of annoying, honestly. But she also said she knew it would get easier if she just kept showing up and kept her mind in the right places.

That’s what it comes down to for me too. I just know that if I want my life to move in a healthier direction, my mind has to go first.

Breaking thought patterns is messy work. Some days the negative thoughts crowd in so thick I lose sight of why I started at all. Other days quitting sounds amazing, but instead of giving up, I ask God for help. I write words on my mirror. I tuck verses into my pocket. I let them interrupt me when my thoughts start running wild.

I don’t do it perfectly. I just do it again tomorrow.

This morning, without forcing it, a verse surfaces in my mind: Isaiah 26:3, “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You.”

That’s so good. It makes me want to run around the room.

It’s so true. Over time, something always shifts. Scripture stops feeling like an assignment and starts feeling like food. The repetition stops draining me; it steadies me. And without even noticing when it happened, other goals begin to move forward too.

This is how real change grows. Quietly. Daily. One small decision at a time.

So, the question isn’t how long it takes to form a habit. The real question is whether I’ll open my Bible today, and let it shape the way I think tomorrow.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What thought patterns do you notice repeating most often in your mind right now?
  • Where do you feel the tension between wanting change and struggling with consistency?
  • What is one simple way you could “stay your mind” on God today—through Scripture, prayer, or reminders?
  • How have you seen repetition shape growth in other areas of your life?
  • What might change if you trusted that small, daily choices can lead to lasting peace?
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Trusting Without a Map

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Psalm 143:8 — Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning, for I am trusting you. Show me where to walk, for I give myself to you.

The year always starts with that uneasy mix of hope and hesitation.

You know the feeling. Standing in the doorway of January, coffee in hand, you are staring at a calendar that looks more like a blank page than a plan. You wonder, “What now?”

As you ponder the year ahead, step into an old story with me for a moment, one that feels strangely modern.

Abraham is still going by his old name. He’s older than most folks would be when they start big adventures, and he’s already settled into a life that’s predictable, familiar, and… comfortable enough. He knows the streets and all his neighbors’ names. There’s security in his routine, even if the routine isn’t spectacular.

And then comes a pull he can’t quite explain. A call from God.

There’s no detailed itinerary. No promise that the road ahead will be smooth. There’s no map with little star stickers showing where the water and rest stops are. There’s Just a nudge that feels like a holy invitation saying, “Leave what you know. Step toward what you don’t. I’ll make sense of it as you go. ”

He doesn’t get clarity. He gets direction. Those aren’t the same thing, though we sometimes wish they were.

The days ahead aren’t easy. Packing up isn’t romantic. It feels messy and slow. Neighbors raise eyebrows, and family members wonder if he’d finally lost it. The land ahead? Unknown. The distance? Uncertain. The risk? Real.

There are moments where he looks back at his old home and wonders if he is out of his mind, too. Or if he’d misheard. Or if he is too old to be starting over.

But he goes anyway.

In scripture the psalmists say: “Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.” (Psalm 143:8) Abraham doesn’t know those words yet, but it’s the longing in his heart. It is the way he leans on God even without seeing the road ahead.

And here’s the twist hiding in plain sight. Though obedience didn’t give Abraham instant answers, it created room for God to reshape his entire life. Forward motion became the place where promises unfolded. Not before he moved. After.

When he finally sets foot in the land he’s been walking toward, there’s no burst of confetti. No parade. Just dirt beneath his sandals and the slow realization that each uncertain mile had carried him into a future far better than the one he left.

A promised land.

And in that slow quiet, something changes in him. He begins to see that clarity isn’t something God hands out like travel brochures. Clarity comes from walking with Him long enough to recognize His footprints beside yours.

Maybe that’s exactly what we need in January.

So as you stand at the edge of a new year—with your mix of fear, hope, and “I’m not sure how this will go”—perhaps there’s the same invitation waiting for you too. Not to understand everything. Not to predict the twists. Just to take one trusting step in the direction God is nudging you towards.

And who knows? Somewhere along the way, as you keep moving forward, you might find that the path you couldn’t see in January becomes the place you were always meant to be.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where are you craving clarity right now, but God may be offering direction instead?
  • Is there a “first step” God has been nudging you to take, even if you don’t see the whole path yet?
  • What familiar or comfortable thing might God be asking you to loosen your grip on this season?
  • How would your mornings change if Psalm 143:8 became your daily prayer?
  • Looking back, can you see a time when obedience opened doors only after you moved forward?
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The Wisdom Behind Preparation

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

I am once again sprinting through my morning.

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

He’s ready.

Of course he is.

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

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

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

Day after day, he’s prepared.

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

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

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

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

That realization changes everything.

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

And something shifts.

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

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

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

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

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • How do you typically respond when someone’s pace or rhythm is different from yours?
  • Is there someone in your life whose calm or steadiness frustrates you more than it encourages you?
  • What would it look like to accept others as Christ has accepted you—without comparison or irritation?
  • Are there small, intentional choices you could make to create more peace in your daily rhythms?
  • How might patience and encouragement change the atmosphere of your home or relationships today?
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Love Has No Expiration Date

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Ephesians 3:20-21 — Now all glory to God, who is able, through His mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. Glory to Him in the church and in Christ Jesus through all generations forever and ever! Amen.

I did not notice it at first, the habit I was forming. It felt harmless. Normal. I checked my phone while I waited for the coffee to brew, then again a few minutes later.

There on my screen I saw a friend who just graduated, earning a new title. Someone else had traveled somewhere pretty. Somebody younger than me just started some big, meaningful, and impressive business. Another just finished running a marathon.

And there it is—that pinch in my chest that says, “Well, Tammi… look at your life.”

At this point in my life, I’m closer to the tomb than the womb. That’s just math. And it has a way of making me ask uncomfortable questions, like what I’ve actually done with all the years God handed me.

That’s my bad habit, playing the comparison game.

And sometimes it really gets to me. I start measuring my life against everybody else’s highlight reels. That never goes well. I catch myself staring at a browser tab that might as well be titled “Why Not Me.”

I tell myself it’s probably too late to make a difference now. That the best I’ve got to offer has already been spent.

Then something small usually interrupts my spiral. It’s usually something ordinary. A friend thanks me for listening when no one else had time. A neighbor mentions that one meal I cooked for them and how it blessed them on a day they were barely holding it together. Things I had already forgotten about were invaluable for someone else.

I had forgotten that God is working in me and had done more through my life than I even knew. Ephesians 3:20–21 says, “Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”

Somehow, God isn’t limited by my timeline the way I am. He’s still working with what I’ve got—right here, right now—using small, faithful things to do more than I could ever dream. Apparently, He has been doing this a long time.

So I closed that “Why Not Me” tab.

I open my planner instead. The real one. And I write down something simple: Do one thing today for somebody else.

Turns out, dreams don’t have expiration dates. Neither does kindness. So let’s stop comparing ourselves. Whether we’re baking or blessing, mentoring or mending, there’s always someone who could use what you can give. Maybe today it’s a phone call or a note or a meal made with a little extra butter. Maybe it’s just showing up when it would be easier not to.

And maybe that’s how God will do more in your life than you could ever ask or imagine— by living for Him one ordinary, heartfelt moment at a time.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where do you find yourself comparing your life to others most often?
  • How has comparison shaped the way you view your own story or purpose?
  • Can you name a small moment when God used something ordinary you did to bless someone else?
  • What does it look like for you to trust that God is still working—right here, right now?
  • What is one simple act of faithfulness or kindness you could choose today instead of comparison?
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Safety in the Rock

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

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

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

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

“When my heart is overwhelmed…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

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

Lyrics:

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

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

Lead me to the Rock
Higher than I

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

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

Higher than I
Higher than I

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

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

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

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Not Alone After All

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Psalm 94:19 — When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul.

I should have been on cloud nine, but instead I’m falling apart inside.

On paper, life is unreal. I’m touring with Bethel Music. I’m writing with people whose songs shaped my faith. I’m standing in rooms I never dreamed I’d ever be invited into. Everything is moving so fast, and everyone keeps telling me how blessed I am. I believe them. I really do.

But that night after returning from tour, standing in my boy’s bedroom, something inside me starts to break down.

My wife Brittany is putting one of our sons to bed. I’m lying next to another, just listening to his breathing. And out of nowhere, this wave of panic and depression hits me. My thoughts spiral so fast I don’t know what to do. I don’t recognize myself. I feel like I might crash out or do something crazy just to make the feeling stop.

Pride keeps me from calling anyone. It feels too vulnerable. So, instead, I text two of my closest friends. I tell them I’m not okay. I tell them I’m scared.

They try to call me back, but I don’t answer. I’m still trying to be dad, trying to be steady, and did I mention how vulnerable talking on the phone felt?

Then my phone buzzes again. It’s a voice message.

It’s my buddy, Micah.

I can tell he’s worried. But on his message, he just prays for me. With my son curled against me, I just listen to Micah’s prayer. And something breaks inside of me in a good way. It’s enough to breathe and enough for me to finally admit I can’t carry this alone.

You see, I haven’t told anyone how this season of touring and success makes me feel when I come home. Not even my wife. So I go to Brittany and confess everything I’ve been holding in. She just holds me close in that moment.

Looking back, and after months of professional counseling, I see what was going on that led to my crash out.

On tour, I had gotten so used to the adrenaline, mountaintops, and constant motion that my body didn’t know the difference between joy and pressure. It only knew stress, and when I got home and life got back to normal, the adrenaline crashed. It hit my mind hard and dark thoughts filled the places where stress once lived. Insecurities. Questions I’d never asked before. Lies I never thought I’d believe.

Getting help changed everything. Talking to my counselor reminded me that there is a true north even when my internal compass is spinning. Through every high and low, God is my steady constant to comfort me in the deepest places.

As we see in the Psalms, “When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul” (Psalm 94:19). And sometimes, God’s consolation sounds like a friend praying over you, or feels like arms holding you when you finally tell the truth.

That night changed how I listen to my limits. Even when life looks meaningful and full, the soul can still be overwhelmed. But God’s consolation often comes through people willing to step into the weight with us.

So maybe the bravest thing we can do is stop pretending we are fine and allow His comfort to meet us where we actually are.

— Brandon Lake

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When life looks “good” on the outside, are there places in your heart that still feel overwhelmed or heavy?
  • What keeps you from asking for help when you’re struggling—fear, pride, or the pressure to appear strong?
  • Who has God placed in your life that could be a source of His comfort if you let them in?
  • In moments of anxiety or emotional exhaustion, where do you usually turn first—for relief or for distraction?
  • What would it look like today to stop pretending you’re fine and allow God’s consolation to meet you where you truly are?
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No More Hiding from God

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Hebrews 4:13 — Nothing in all creation is hidden from God. Everything is naked and exposed before His eyes, and He is the one to whom we are accountable.

I have a room in my house that only exists because doors exist.

You know the kind. You open it, take one look, and immediately close it again—like the mess inside might lunge at you if you hesitate. Inside are wedding decorations I swore I’d organize later, picture frames still waiting on nails, boxes of “I’ll deal with this someday.”

It’s not chaos everywhere else in my house, which is the point. When people come over, they don’t see it. Everything looks fine. Put together. Managed.

But every time I walk past that door, my chest tightens just a little. Because even closed, the mess is still there. And I know it.

And it hits home when I think about how it reflects more about my life.

You see, I’ve done the same thing with my heart.

There are places I don’t love to open up. Old memories that still sting. Choices I wish I could re-label or shove further back. Thoughts I don’t say out loud. I tell myself it’s fine as long as I keep those doors shut. As long as they’re hidden. As long as God doesn’t go poking around in there.

But then I remember the truth I keep trying to forget: nothing is actually hidden.

“Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of Him to whom we must give account” (Hebrews 4:13).

That verse used to make me nervous. Because I heard it as exposure. Like God was standing in the doorway with His arms crossed, taking inventory of every mess I pushed aside. I assumed His seeing meant disappointment. Or that “you should know better by now” sigh.

So I kept the door closed.

But the longer I live with that room the more I realize how backwards my fear was. God already knows what’s in there. Nothing surprises Him. Nothing shocks Him. And nothing disqualifies me from His presence.

One afternoon, I finally left the door open. And standing there, surrounded by half-finished projects and forgotten things, it became clear: the room wasn’t the enemy. The fear was.

I didn’t clean it all at once. I started with one box. Then another. Some things went back where they belonged. Some things I realized I didn’t need anymore.

That’s what it feels like when God steps into the hidden places of our hearts. It’s the permission we all long for to stop hiding and pretending. To finally deal with what’s been inside. When we let Him sort through the clutter, He doesn’t expose us to shame. He leads us into freedom. And slowly, space opens up, peace settles in, and breathing feels easier.

I’m learning that closed doors don’t bring relief—they just delay it.

So maybe the question isn’t what’s behind your door. You already know. Maybe the better question is whether you’re tired of walking past it, pretending it doesn’t matter, when the One who loves you most is already standing there. He’s ready to help you clean, restore, and make room for something new.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Are there areas of your heart or life that you’ve been keeping “behind closed doors,” hoping no one—including God—will notice?
  • When you think about God seeing everything, do you tend to feel fear or relief? Why do you think that is?
  • What might it look like to invite God into just one hidden area instead of trying to fix everything at once?
  • How could trusting God with what’s hidden lead you toward freedom instead of shame?
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Growth is Pressing Through

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

Sometimes growth hurts in ways you’d never expect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

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

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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.

You know, sometimes we have got to get broken in order to grow.

I have got this great story. Oh, I love it, and It goes like this.

“The other night, I was in the dollar store, and there was a mom there with her kids. One was a big kid, and the other one was a toddler. The bigger one had a pack of glow sticks, and the toddler was screaming for them.

So the mom opened the pack and gave him one, which stopped his tears. He walked around with it, smiling, but then the bigger boy took it. The toddler started screaming again. Just as the mom was about to bust, the older child bent the glow stick and handed it back to the toddler.

As we walked outside at the same time, the toddler noticed that the stick was now glowing, and his brother said, ‘I had to break it so that you could get the full effect of it.’

Wow.

When I saw that happening, I could hear God say to me, I had to break you to show you why I created you. You had to go through it so you could fulfill your purpose.”

That precious child was happy just swinging that unbroken glow stick around in the air because he didn’t understand what it was created to do, which was glow.

There are some people who will be content just being unbroken, but some of us know that God has chosen us. We have to be broken. We have to get sick, we have to lose that job. We have to bury our spouse, our parents, or our best friends.

In those moments of desperation, God is breaking us, but when the breaking is done, then we will be able to see the reason for which we were created.

Just like it says in 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.”

What if the places that broke you were never meant to end your story? What if they were preparing you to shine in ways you could not imagine until now?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Can you think of a season in your life that felt like breaking—but later revealed growth, purpose, or deeper faith?
  • Where might God be inviting you to trust Him in the middle of suffering you don’t yet understand?
  • Are there places in your story you still see only as pain, rather than places God may be preparing to bring glory?
  • How does Romans 8:18 change the way you view hardship—not as the end of the story, but as part of a bigger one God is still writing?
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Changing in the Checkout Line

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Colossians 1:11 — We also pray that you will be strengthened with all his glorious power so you will have all the endurance and patience you need. May you be filled with joy.

I only needed a few groceries—which is Southern for this should’ve taken ten minutes, tops.

It was one of those days where my to-do list had a to-do list. I was already behind, but I though I would just run in the store really quick. No browsing. No wandering. Just get the milk, get the bread, and get gone.

I picked the shortest check out line. Naturally. But that’s when the woman in front of me opened her purse.

Now listen—folks don’t really use coupons like they used to. But this woman? She had a stack thick enough to fan herself with. One coupon. Beep. Didn’t work. Another. Beep. Still didn’t work. The cashier tried again, then leaned over and typed like she was cracking a safe.

I could feel it in my body. My jaw got tight. My foot started tapping. I start doing that slow inhale, exhale thing because I had to remind myself I am a grown woman, saved, and I am not about to lose my Jesus over a box of cereal.

And right there—in the check out line of all places—I remembered a verse I’d read once.

Colossians 1:11, “Being strengthened with all power, according to His glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy.”

That’s what I needed more than anything. I needed to choose endurance, to choose patience, and to choose joy. And you know, not through gritted teeth or by faking positivity.

Now, the coupons still wouldn’t scan, and the cashier still had to call for help. But as I sat with that verse, I loosened my grip on the cart. I gave up my frazzled stress, and I chose a better attitude.

When I walked out to my car, groceries tucked under my arm, I realized something: endurance isn’t about how fast we get through stuff. It’s more about what comes out of us while we’re being tested. And patience—real patience—has a way of pointing people back to the heart of God because of the way we treat them.

Most days, we’re not tested in the big moments. We’re tested in checkout lines and traffic and interruptions we didn’t plan. And Colossians 1:11 reminds us we’re not white-knuckling our way through it alone. There’s strength available. There enough endurance, patience, and joy to spare.

So maybe today, when things get a little frustrating, you’ll let that verse find its way back to mind. And maybe—right there in the middle of it—you discover that strength looks a lot like choosing grace when nobody would blame you for choosing frustration.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where in your life right now are you being asked to practice endurance and patience instead of speed and control?
  • What does it look like for you to rely on God’s strength—not just to get through frustration, but to respond with joy in it?
  • How might choosing grace in small, unnoticed moments point someone else to the heart of God today?
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