Discipline, Desire, Delight

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Psalm 34:8 — Taste and see that the Lord is good. Oh, the joys of those who take refuge in Him!

I grew up in the nineties, and I don’t know if I imagined it, but…we were all told vegetables were gross.

I mean, on cartoons they avoided broccoli at all costs, so I treated it like the plague. In the school cafeteria line, I would pile my tray with anything but the vegetables.

It was probably just marketing, but it’s funny because years later, I became a high school teacher. And I finally tried veggies in the school cafeteria.

And they were… good.

Like, genuinely, they were the best seasoned thing on the menu. I stood standing there thinking, “Wait—have I been wrong about this my whole life?”

It wasn’t just the cafeteria. Every summer, my mom would make tomato pie. And depending on who you are, that either sounds incredible or completely disgusting.

To me it looked gross, so it was gross. No further investigation needed. Because…vegetables…am I right?

But no. I tried it for the first time in college and it changed my life! My momma is a good cook, but it’s one of the best things she makes.

It’s funny—and a little sad—how easily we opt out of some of the best things in life without ever really trying them. We write them off before we experience them.

Honestly, spiritual disciplines can feel like that too. Prayer. Scripture. Solitude. Worship. Sometimes they sound more like eating your vegetables than experiencing joy.

But every time I lean into those things—even a little—I find something I didn’t expect. Peace that steadies me. Clarity that wasn’t there before. A sense that I’m not alone.

Maybe that’s why we’re invited not just to believe God is good, but to experience it. “Taste and see that the Lord is good,” He says. And somewhere along the way, we discover, what first felt like discipline starts to turn into desire.

And desire… turns into delights.

So, I want to encourage you to seek God’s face today through spiritual disciplines. Because it really is so good!

Disciplines develop your spiritual appetite. Yes. You’ll end up hungry for more.

Please don’t miss out on the most incredible parts of life simply because they are branded to you as “boring” or hard.

No. Taste and see that they lead to the sweetest and most un-boring thing of all.

God’s presence.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What spiritual discipline have you avoided because it seemed boring, difficult, or unappealing?
  • When have you personally “tasted and seen” God’s goodness in an unexpected way?
  • What keeps you from slowing down enough to experience God’s presence consistently?
  • How have small, faithful habits helped strengthen your relationship with God?
  • What is one practical way you can seek God’s presence more intentionally this week?
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A Super Life to Live

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Philippians 2:4 — Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.

There are stories we’ve all played out in our heads and hearts since we were kids. Cops and robbers, kings and queens, or racecar drivers…

For me, I imagined life as a superhero.

Cape and all. With fight sequences, slow-motion landings, and last-second saves.

I remember having a trampoline in my back yard. That was the best place to play out action-packed superhero games with your friends.

The neighborhood kids and I would bounce and flip, shooting imaginary webs and lasers and taking turns being the hero while everyone else played the bad guys.

It was chaotic and creative and honestly… kind of perfect.

…until it wasn’t…

Because you remember how those childhood games go.

It’s all fun until someone breaks a rule. Rules, that of course, you are actively making up as you go. Rules that were never agreed upon. And just like that, the play fighting turns into real fighting.

Someone gets upset. Someone storms off crying. And somehow, the very next day, you all get back together again to play the same game expecting different results.

I think we still do that in life, don’t we?

We just don’t call it a game anymore.

We carry around quiet rules. Things like unspoken expectations about how people should treat us, respond to us, or show up for us. Some of those things are good. But some of them… are just our rules.

And when people don’t follow them, it stings. It feels like they’re playing it wrong.

But what if that’s the problem?

Maybe life was never meant to revolve around my version of the game. Maybe the real win isn’t getting others to meet my expectations, but learning to lay mine down long enough to truly see others. To value them above myself. To care for them.

Because the strongest kind of life—the kind that actually holds people together—doesn’t come from always being the hero. It looks more like Jesus’s life, who set aside the spotlight, picked up a towel, and served the people in front of Him.

Turns out, that’s a better story to tell, isn’t it?

And maybe, you start to see that winning looks a lot more like love.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What “quiet rules” or unspoken expectations do you tend to place on others?
  • How do you usually react when people don’t meet those expectations?
  • In what ways did Jesus model humility and service instead of self-focus?
  • What would it look like to genuinely value someone else’s needs above your own this week?
  • Where might God be inviting you to trade being “right” for choosing love instead?
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Miles and Miles of Wonder

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Psalm 8:1 — O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth! Your glory is higher than the heavens.

The sky never repeats itself, and somehow that says everything.

Right after college, home still meant my childhood bedroom. My sister Lindsay had just started at ULM, and I was in that strange in-between—done with college, grateful to be home, but not quite sure what came next.

So I made a habit of escaping.

My sister and I would hit the interstate and head west toward Ruston. Windows cracked, music up, we’d talk about everything and nothing—classes, dreams, the future waiting somewhere out there. We had no plan. No destination.

Just one goal.

Chasing sunsets.

Have you ever done that? You can almost feel it before you see it.

The sun dipping low, stretching gold across the fields. Then orange. Then streaks of violet painting the horizon. It never rushed, but it never lingered either. You had to pay attention or you’d miss it.

It never gets old.

We started those drives knowing what we were chasing, but never really knowing what we’d get. And that was the thrill.

Somewhere along those miles, it became clear—our God is a master creator. His handiwork fills the sky every evening. And if you take a moment to notice, there’s more beauty than you can predict, and more wonder than you can control.

The heavens are always saying something, if you’re willing to look up. His glory stretches farther than your plans and bigger than whatever you’re trying to figure out next.

Creation keeps pointing back to Him.

And maybe that’s the invitation. Not to have it all mapped out. Not to rush past the moment. Just to notice. Because even now, His colors are breaking out all around you— unmistakable and daily.

And if you lift your eyes, even for a second, you might catch it.

He is still the God of wonders, and His glory still fills the earth.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When was the last time you slowed down enough to truly notice God’s creation?
  • How does creation help reveal the majesty and creativity of God to you?
  • Are there moments in your life where you’ve been so focused on the future that you missed the beauty right in front of you?
  • What does Psalm 8:1 teach us about God’s glory and presence in the world around us?
  • How can you intentionally “look up” and notice God’s wonder in your everyday life this week?
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Beauty in the Slow Down

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Psalm 37:7 — Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act. Don’t worry about evil people who prosper or fret about their wicked schemes.

There are some things in life you have to learn to appreciate, aren’t there?

Porch sitting is one of them. As a kid, it used to bore me to tears. I couldn’t understand why that was all the adults wanted to do—just sit there. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve discovered it really might be one of the greatest pastimes there is.

Most simple things are.

Things like slowly reading a book or watching the clouds roll by.

For me, one of those simple pleasures is time spent watching hummingbirds with my mom.

Back during COVID, we would do this daily. I’d sit on the porch working on my laptop. My mom would sit nearby, keeping me company. We wouldn’t always say much. We’d just be there, together, occasionally pointing out the skittering birds when they showed up, and we’d refill the feeders when they ran dry.

It was mesmerizing. It felt like catching a glimpse of something you were never meant to miss. They stopped by just for a moment, then dart to and fro again. They would be gone almost as soon as you noticed them.

But if I’m honest, I think this would’ve bored me to tears before, too.

So, what changed?

It really boils down to one thing.

Stillness.

That’s the acquired taste that most simple things require. Simple pleasures like front porches, slow books, and hummingbirds ask you to sit down enough to pay attention. And that’s harder than it sounds.

Because life will hand you plenty to fixate on. Things that feel unfair. Things that seem like they’re falling apart or impossible to manage.

But out on that porch, none of that follows you.

You sit. You breathe. You notice the beautiful things God is doing around you.

So today, maybe there’s an invitation there—to be still in the presence of the Lord. To wait for Him to act instead of trying to carry everything yourself. To loosen your grip on all the noise and let Him meet you in the quiet.

Because it’s often there—in the stillness—that the smallest, most beautiful things come into view.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What distractions or worries have been making it difficult for you to be still lately?
  • When was the last time you slowed down enough to notice God’s presence in ordinary moments?
  • What would it look like for you to wait patiently for God instead of trying to control the outcome yourself?
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Build Unshakable Hope

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1 Peter 3:15 – Instead, you must worship Christ as Lord of your life. And if someone asks about your hope as a believer, always be ready to explain it.

It was late on a Wednesday night when the pastor told the small group his son no longer believed in God.

He swallowed and explained why. “He told me I taught him what to believe, but I never taught him why.”

You could feel the silence in the room. That sentence followed each of them home, especially for one father in the congregation.

When the man walked into his kitchen, his twelve-year-old son Caleb was at the table, finishing his memory verse homework. Though that scene usually reassures most parents, the father sat across from him and asked, “Why do you believe the Bible is true, buddy?”

Caleb shrugged. “Because it’s God’s Word.”

“How do you know that?”

Another pause. “Because the Bible says so.”

Something sank in the dad’s chest. His son wasn’t wrong, but that line of reasoning was circular. He knew that foundationless faith often collapses under pressure.

Over the next few days, the father asked more and more questions. About Jesus. About forgiveness. About why the cross mattered at all. His son Caleb never pushed back, but he just didn’t have the answers. And quietly, the father realized neither did he.

And a verse came to his mind. “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.”

Preparation. Reasoning. Hope.

But it all starts with this—making Jesus not just someone I know about, but the One who leads my life.

These were things he desperately wanted for him and his son. So he invited his son to ask the deep, hard questions. And he studied the Bible more and more, until he could answer his son’s cosmological questions at a sixth-grade level.

They slowed down. They talked. And strangely, the more Caleb understood, the more naturally he prayed. He quit repeating “the right answer,” and His faith became his own.

What that dad found out is that faith doesn’t fall apart because it’s false—it falls apart because it was never reinforced.

You see, the God who created our brains is not shaken by hard questions. Every answer is found in Him when we invite scripture to inform us.

So, I want to encourage you today to do the work that matters. Don’t be afraid of God, when your questions come. Study the scriptures and discover the meaning behind the message of our hope.

Because thinking deeply about the Bible like that doesn’t replace faith—it gives it a spine and teaches the soul how to stand.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • If someone asked you why you believe in Jesus, how would you respond?
  • Where does your faith feel solid—and where does it feel untested or uncertain?
  • Are there questions about God or the Bible you’ve avoided instead of exploring?
  • What would it look like to grow in both understanding and trust this season?
  • Is Jesus truly Lord of your life—or mainly someone you know about?
  • How can you begin preparing yourself to explain your hope with clarity and confidence?
  • Who in your life might be asking questions that you have an opportunity to engage with?
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Saturday Isn’t the End

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Isaiah 25:8 — He will swallow up death forever! The Sovereign Lord will wipe away all tears. He will remove forever all insults and mockery against his land and people. The Lord has spoken!

They had done everything they could.

Jesus of Nazareth was dead. The threat removed. A problem solved.

For years, the religious leaders had tolerated His disruptions—the way He drew crowds, defied their tradition, and unsettled power. Now the Romans had driven the nails, and His body lay sealed in a tomb.

Finally, they could move on.

And yet His claim lingered: after three days, He would rise.

If the disciples stole the body, then rumors would start. If hope caught fire again, then they would have a worse problem than before.

So, the religious leaders went to Pilate.

The governor was finished with the whole ordeal. “You have a guard,” he said. “Make it as secure as you know how.”

So, they did.

They secured the tomb and posted guards. They believed control would secure their future. But control is a fragile god.

The real and living God had already spoken of a day when He would swallow up death forever, when He would wipe away tears from all faces, and when the reproach of His people would be taken away from all the earth.

No tomb could undo that promise. No empire could outlast it.

Sunday was already on its way.

But you know, we all have Saturdays that still feel like that. Don’t we? Long stretches where hope seems buried and God feels silent. Diagnoses. Broken relationships. Prayers that echo back unanswered.

And in every one of those places, He is not distant—He is the God who sees every tear and promises to wipe them away.

But if Rome’s authority could not hold Him nor the grave silence Him, nor death itself stand its ground, then nothing in your waiting can prevent God from accomplishing what He has promised.

The tomb was secured. The guards were posted. The seal was real. And morning still came.

So hold steady in your Saturday. Your Sunday is coming too. Trust in God who swallows death. Because friend, the stone will not have the final word.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What “Saturday” season are you currently walking through?
  • Where does it feel like things are sealed, silent, or final?
  • How have you seen God remain faithful in past seasons of waiting?
  • What does it look like to trust God when you don’t yet see the outcome?
  • How does the promise that God defeats death—and wipes away tears—change the way you face today?
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The Donkey and the Different King

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Psalms 145:1-2 — I will exalt you, my God and King, and praise your name forever and ever. I will praise you every day; yes, I will praise you forever.

The road into Jerusalem is loud that day.

Dust rises beneath sandals. Palm branches wave in the air. People shout over each other, adrenaline and hope mixing into something electric. Word has spread fast—Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. A man who had been buried. Four days gone. Now alive.

If He can call a dead man out of a tomb, surely He can overthrow Rome.

The crowd knows what kind of king they want. A warrior. A conqueror. Someone to flex power and fix everything immediately. Their voices swell as He approaches the city gates.

They line the road with palm branches. They shout. They wave. This has to be it.

But He isn’t riding a warhorse. He’s riding a donkey.

It doesn’t fit the script. Still, he raised the dead. “Hosannah in the highest,” they shout.

But Jesus knows exactly what kind of king He is.

And whether the crowd understood it or not, He was still worthy of their praise that day—and every day after.

His power is real—He just refuses to wield it the way they expect. His victory will come through surrender, through sacrifice, through a rugged cross waiting just beyond the city walls.

Palm Sunday exposes something in every heart: we are quick to trust God when everything goes according to our plans. But Jesus is still king when life doesn’t unfold the way we imagined.

So praise Him for who He is, not just for what you hoped He would do. Exalt Him in the middle of unfinished business. Everyday and forever. The King who rode into Jerusalem lowly and humble is still reigning. Still powerful. Still good.

And He’s still saving the day.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When is it hardest for you to praise God—when things are uncertain, delayed, or not going your way?
  • Have you ever had expectations of God that didn’t match how He actually worked in your life?
  • What does it look like to praise God for who He is, not just for what He does?
  • How can you build a daily rhythm of praise, even in seasons of “unfinished business”?
  • Where might God be inviting you to trust His way—even when it doesn’t fit your expectations?
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Your Yes Still Matters

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Matthew 5:37 — But let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No.’ For whatever is more than these is from the evil one.

I was knee deep in mulch, sweating through my shirt, working under the blistering sun, wondering why I agreed to this in the first place?

But I already knew the answer.

A few days earlier, this had been a group project. My friend’s grandpa had asked several of us to help weed out the flowerbeds on his property before Easter. The property was large, and we were only a week away. But of course we said yes.

I mean, he was a local pastor, and we were seniors in high school with not much going on. We spent most of our time at his house anyway—eating his food, swimming in his pool, treating the place like it was our second home. Helping him felt like the right thing to do.

Then a last-minute trip to Six Flags came up, so my friends packed their bags and left town. And suddenly, it was just me and the weeds.

At some point, the screen door creaked open behind me, and the pastor stepped outside and handed me a glass of water. I followed him inside, where he leaned against the counter and said something I’ve never forgotten.

“You know, back in the day, people didn’t always have contracts,” he said. “Sometimes all you had was your word. That’s why they say you’re only as good as your word.”

Then he smiled. “Son, you didn’t have to finish that job. But you did what you said you would do. Jesus calls that letting your ‘yes’ be ‘yes’ and your ‘no’ be ‘no.’”

He reached out his hand to shake mine. I remember holding eye contact with him, feeling a sense of accomplishment and pride—not just because the weeds were gone, but because something deeper had taken root.

That moment taught me more than how to finish a job. It taught me what integrity looks like when it costs you something.

That lesson has stayed with me ever since. It has followed me into my work, my relationships, and my faith—reminding me that what says the most about you is how you treat your word.

Keeping your word matters long after the moment passes—especially when no one is clapping. There will be plenty of chances to take the easier exit, to explain things away, or to back out when it costs you something.

We don’t always break our word loudly—sometimes we slowly explain our way out of it.

Remember that integrity is built in those unnoticed moments, when your yes still means yes. While the world may never see those choices, God does, and character like that doesn’t fade with time. It lasts.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Can you think of a time when keeping your word cost you something? What did you learn from it?
  • Are there any commitments you’ve made recently that you’re tempted to back out of or justify your way around?
  • What does it look like in your daily life to let your “yes” be “yes” and your “no” be “no”?
  • How do small, unseen decisions shape your character over time?
  • Where is God inviting you to choose integrity this week—even if no one else notices?
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Hold Tight to What Matters Most

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John 8:31-32 — Jesus said to the people who believed in him, “You are truly my disciples if you remain faithful to my teachings. And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.

My daughter Reese is two, which means bath time is basically her happiest place on Earth. She’s in that joyful stage where there are more bath toys than water in the tub.

Lately, she’s been doing something new — something small, but fascinating to me. She has started organizing her foam bath letters.

Now before you say it, yes, my child is brilliant — thank you for noticing.

She lines the letters up carefully along the edge of the tub. Not randomly. By color. And she always starts with red. Sometimes she only does the red ones.

It’s adorable… until it’s time to get out.

When I lift her from the tub, she tries to gather those red letters like treasure. If one slips from her hand, everything falls apart until it’s recovered. If I try to dry her off without them, it’s a full-blown, end-of-the-world meltdown.

Logic doesn’t help. Explanations don’t matter. Because to Reese, in that moment, those red letters are everything.

Meanwhile, I’m standing there with soaked clothes, a screaming toddler, and a fistful of foam vowels.

But it’s made me think.

We don’t let go of what we love, do we? We cling to it.

And those red letters remind me of Jesus. In many Bibles, His words are printed in red. I admire them. I underline them. I quote them. But I don’t always cling to them — not with desperation. Not with the kind of grip Reese has.

Then I remember what Jesus actually says about His words.

In John 8:31–32, Jesus tells those who believed Him: “If you remain faithful to my teachings, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

Notice that freedom doesn’t come from casually reading. It comes from remaining. Continuing. Holding on.

Freedom is tied to staying close to what He says.

That’s what I want.

I want to experience that kind of freedom — the kind that comes from clinging to His words like they’re essential… because they are.

Reese isn’t thinking about theology. She just knows what matters to her. She knows what she loves. She isn’t embarrassed by how tightly she holds on.

Maybe that’s the picture.

Because freedom doesn’t necessarily come from knowing better. It comes from holding tighter. From letting the words of Jesus interrupt our thinking, reshape our reactions, steady our fears.

His words really are the words of life.

And I don’t ever want to let them go.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What words of Jesus have you admired but not fully “remained” in?
  • When pressure rises in your life, do you instinctively cling to His truth — or to something else?
  • What would it look like practically to “remain faithful” to His teachings this week?
  • Is there a specific truth from Scripture you need to hold tighter right now?
  • How might your experience of freedom change if you treated Jesus’ words as essential rather than optional?
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The God Who Never Gets Tired of You

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Ephesians 1:16-17 — I have not stopped thanking God for you. I pray for you constantly, asking God, the glorious Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, to give you spiritual wisdom and insight so that you might grow in your knowledge of God.

Do you remember how afternoons felt when you were a kid? They felt endless.

I’d skid into the driveway, ditch my backpack, and grab my bike. Sneakers half-tied. Sun still high. I’d pedal up and down the street, knocking on doors, gathering friends until the gang was assembled. Once we were together, we knew exactly where we were headed.

Mrs. Glenda’s house.

She lived right next door, which makes it feel more like visiting than trespassing. Her front door was always open. We’d knock on the screen door and wait.

“Mrs. Glenda, do you have any candy?” I’d say.

Of course she did. She always did. She’d smile like she had been hoping someone would ask, then reach for a bucket of candy like it was Halloween on a random Tuesday.

With suckers in hand, we’d ride off into the sunset, disappearing into whatever adventures our imaginations cooked up. And there she’d be, standing in the doorway, smiling and waving like she hadn’t just given away candy for the fifth time that week.

I remember being appreciative for the candy, but never really knowing just how special that was. Because the miracle wasn’t the candy—it was the consistency. We kept showing up, and she kept answering. I think about it now, and think “At what point do you become a nuisance.” Did she ever get tired of us kids stopping by?

I don’t think she did.

You don’t run into many people like that. And replaying those afternoons now, and that’s where those memories connect with me spiritually.

We’re told to pray. To ask. To knock. But if we’re honest, we sometimes hesitate. We wonder if God gets tired of us or if our prayers are too repetitive.

We worry we’re wearing God out, but really, He’s inviting us in.

God isn’t rationing His goodness or guarding the door. But I’m learning that His greatest answers to prayer aren’t always quick fixes. The sweetest gift is Him.

That’s why Paul’s prayer in Ephesians lands differently now. He writes: “I have not stopped thanking God for you. I pray for you constantly, asking God, the glorious Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, to give you spiritual wisdom and insight so that you might grow in your knowledge of God.”

Paul doesn’t ask for fewer problems or easier circumstances. He asks for deeper knowing. He asks that their hearts would grow in wisdom and insight—not just to receive from God, but to truly know Him.

And notice the rhythm of his prayer. He doesn’t stop thanking. He’s constantly asking. Over and over. He’s not worried about bothering God—confident that God welcomes the asking.

So don’t worry, God isn’t annoyed by repeated prayers. Often, it’s through persistent prayer that He reveals more of Himself to us.

Keep showing up. Keep knocking. Keep riding right up to the door with whatever your carrying that day. Ask boldly for more wisdom and nearness. Ask for more of Him.

The door is already open, and you were never a bother.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Do you ever hesitate to bring the same prayer to God more than once? Why?
  • Are you praying mainly for circumstances to change, or for deeper wisdom and closeness with Him?
  • What would it look like to approach God with childlike confidence instead of quiet reluctance?
  • Where in your life is God inviting you to keep knocking instead of walking away?
  • How might your faith grow if you believed you were never a burden to your Heavenly Father?
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