Goodbye Negativity, Hello Grace

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Proverbs 16:24 — Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.

Adios Negativity

Every year in January, we complete a spiritual fast for 21 days. Starve your flesh, feed your spirit. That is the goal of the fast—to become closer to God by denying yourself of what you typically rely on more than Him.

Over the years, I’ve fasted from the usual things—food, social media, and other comforts I swore I could quit “anytime.” But this past year, God nudged me toward something different. I fasted from negativity.

Yes… negativity.

For 21 days, I made a conscious effort not to speak negative comments to anyone. It sounded reasonable. Noble, even. But what I didn’t expect was how loud my thoughts would become once my words were put on lockdown.

Turns out, negativity doesn’t just live on our tongues—it likes to hang out in our minds too.

I assumed God was going to teach me how to filter my speech and turn me from a negative Nancy into a positive Polly. Instead, He worked much deeper. In the silence, He taught me godly wisdom, self-discipline, self-control, gentleness, and—most importantly—how to love like Christ when it would be easier to say exactly what I was thinking.

There is a verse in Proverbs that says, “Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones,” and let me tell you. That is so true.

One evening during dinner, my seven-year-old daughter looked up at me and said, “Mama, you look like Jesus.” And just like that, my mama heart melted. In that moment, I knew this fast was changing more than my words—it was shaping my heart.

When the 21 days ended, I didn’t want to stop. I had seen firsthand how much words matter. They carry weight. Every sentence holds the power to tear someone down or build them up—and the choice is always ours.

So today, I encourage you: Don’t wait for a church-wide fast. Start now. Choose words that reflect Christ. Because sometimes, the most powerful fast isn’t from food—it’s from the words we decide not to say.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where do you notice negativity showing up most often—in your words, your thoughts, or both?
  • How might your relationships change if you became more intentional about speaking gracious words?
  • Is there a conversation or situation where God may be inviting you to pause before you speak?
  • What would it look like for your words to bring “healing” to someone this week?
  • If you tried a short fast from negativity, what do you think God might reveal to you?
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Let the Light Keep Shining

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1 Thessalonians 5:5 – You are all children of the light and children of the day. We do not belong to the night or to the darkness.

The morning after Christmas feels strange. The house is quieter, wrapping paper gone, the excitement already fading. When I was younger, I thought keeping the tree up past December 25 just meant laziness.

But now I like to keep my tree up a bit longer. I love Christmas, and I believe some stories deserve a chance to finish themselves.

Because, truth be told, the Christmas story did not end at the manger. The shepherds returned to their flocks, their excitement folded into ordinary routines. But far away, three travelers pressed on through nights colder than they imagined, following a star that refused to dim.

They carried gifts, questions, and hope in equal measure. The day they finally arrived is what people now celebrate as Epiphany.

It sounds like a big, confusing word, but the holiday is simple at its heart. Epiphany marks the moment expectation meets revelation.

They saw Him—Jesus. The Promised One who Heaven and Earth had longed for. That arrival did not happen in a single instant. It came slowly, like a caravan crossing the desert, and it reminds me that often truth shows up the same way in our own lives.

So, now I keep my tree up through the Twelve Days of Christmas because it is a reminder that revelation does not happen all at once. The lights of Epiphany are small but they are still there, persistent. The Light does not fade when the season ends.

Christ is the big Light, but I’m reminded that I am somehow folded into this amazing story. Just like those little, twinkling lights, I’m reminded and amazed I get to shine the light of Jesus, too.

That’s not just a nice thought—it’s how Scripture describes us.

The Bible says it like this: “You are all children of the light and children of the day. We do not belong to the night or to the darkness” (1 Thessalonians 5:5).

Most of my days do not feel epic. They feel ordinary. Yet even ordinary days become extraordinary when I choose to live for Him. It’s a bowl of soup offered to someone cold and hungry. A patient answer to a harsh word. Showing up when it would be easier not to. These small acts are light traveling through the world.

Before I pack up the ornaments, I stand beneath the branches and let the meaning settle. I ask myself quietly: if a star guided travelers across deserts, might the Light travel through my ordinary day too? If it can, will I let it?

So, friends, I do not know if you have packed your tree away yet, but if you can, I want to encourage you with this: pause under the glow one last time and remember the Light of the World still shines, long after the season ends.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where have you noticed God’s light lingering in your life after a season has ended?
  • What does it mean for you personally to live as a “child of the light” in ordinary days?
  • Which small, quiet acts in your life might be carrying more light than you realize?
  • Is there a place where darkness feels heavy right now—and how might God be inviting you to shine there?
  • As you move forward from Christmas, what would it look like to let Christ’s light guide your daily choices?
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Sharing Jesus on the Journey

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2 Timothy 4:5 — But you should keep a clear mind in every situation. Don’t be afraid of suffering for the Lord. Work at telling others the Good News, and fully carry out the ministry God has given you.

Some memories stay vivid even after decades. When I think back to my childhood, I see those December days when my mom would take my sister and me to the mall, not to shop, but for something called Journey to Bethlehem.

She would guide us past the food court, the kiosks, and the holiday crowds until we reached a corner display that felt worlds away. A local church hosted it each year, and the moment we stepped inside, the atmosphere changed. It was like stepping back in time.

I remember the cool feel of clay jars beneath my fingers and the earthy scent of hay. People in long robes greeted us with words like “Shalom” that sounded ancient yet comforting, and we got to pet so many animals.

I loved every second of it.

It was there that the story of Jesus’ birth would stir inside me in a way no words could capture.

Years later, I found myself walking that same path with my own girls. They moved slowly, reaching out to touch the baskets, asking questions about how families lived so long ago without cars or warm beds. I talked about the miles people walked, the hardships mothers endured, and the courage it took to survive in a world that offered so little comfort.

Halfway through, I felt the weight of what I needed to pass on. I had no formal gospel lesson prepared. I only had the walk, my childhood memories, and the chance to let them feel it for themselves.

So, as we wandered through the recreated streets, I narrated the story of the Nativity as best as I knew how. I noticed something shift in their eyes. They were beginning to understand the lengths God went to as He chose to enter a world so ordinary and hard, just to meet us where we are.

I thought of the words from 2 Timothy 4:5: “Keep a clear mind in every situation, do the work of an evangelist… fully carry out the ministry God has given you.”

Walking this path reminded me that ministry often looks like this—staying present, even when it’s imperfect. Telling the story as best you can. Walking with people you love and helping them experience the same Jesus you know and love for themselves.

Now it is our tradition. Every year, my husband and I look for ways like this to help our girls discover the story in fresh new ways. And each time, I am reminded that the length’s God goes for us. His love is always so immense and intentional.

If He would come all that way, maybe the small steps we take can help someone else find their way toward Him. Because, truth be told, this is one story that is never too old, too simple, or too small to change a heart.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What moments from your own childhood helped shape your understanding of faith or the story of Jesus?
  • Where has God given you opportunities to share the Good News in simple, everyday ways—without a script or a plan?
  • What does “fully carrying out the ministry God has given you” look like in your current season of life?
  • How can you help others—especially the next generation—experience Jesus, not just hear about Him?
  • Where might God be inviting you to take a small, faithful step, trusting Him to do the larger work in someone’s heart?
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Celebrating Christmas in the Kitchen

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Luke 2:11 — For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.

“What are we baking?” I asked, eyes wide.

I stood by the counter, wooden spoon in hand, trying not to make a total disaster of the kitchen. It smelled incredible—vanilla, butter, all the good stuff—and the sunlight made the mess of flour I’d created look almost artistic.

Mom laughed under her breath. “We’re making a birthday cake.”

“Okay, but who for this time?” I asked. “Someone at church?”

She shook her head. “For Jesus.”

I stared at her. “Like… Jesus Jesus?”

She nodded, completely calm about it.

I wasn’t sure what baking a cake for someone I’d never actually met was supposed to feel like, but as I stirred the batter, something about it felt oddly meaningful—like we were doing more than just following a recipe.

I did not know it yet, but this little tradition would stay with me, long after the flour had been swept from the floor. Each year we followed the same recipe, and each year my sister and I argued over who would lick the spoon first and who would sprinkle the sugar.

Mom never rushed my sister and me. She let us spread the icing and carefully place the candles on top. She wanted us to know, deep down, that this celebration was about more than a cake. It was about joy that came to the world and hope that would not let go.

As I grew, and faith became my own, I finally understood. The coming of Jesus is worth throwing a party over year after year. His birth was not a story in a dusty book. It was a rescue. A beginning.

Now in my own kitchen, flour and sugar lined the counter. My daughters peeked around the corner.

“What are you doing?” they asked.

I motioned them in and told them we were about to bake a birthday cake for Jesus. Soon there was laughter, batter on the floor, and three spoons too many in the bowl.

As we stirred, I leaned in to tell them what my mom once told me, reading softly from the Bible: “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” Luke 2:11. I hoped they would carry this moment with them, the way it stayed with me.

After all, if anything is worth celebrating, is it not the birth that changed the world?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What Christmas tradition has helped shape your faith or understanding of Jesus over the years?
  • How does remembering Jesus’ birth as a rescue — not just a story — change the way you celebrate Christmas?
  • Who in your life might God be inviting you to pass faith along to through simple, meaningful moments?
  • When was the last time you paused to truly celebrate what Jesus’ coming means for you personally?
  • How can you make space this season — through tradition, conversation, or worship — to honor the Savior who changed everything?
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A Search That Led to Hope

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Hebrews 10:23 — “Let us hold tightly without wavering to the hope we affirm, for God can be trusted to keep his promise.”

The first week of December arrived, and I found myself thinking more about Christmas. My husband Tyler and I had been growing in our faith, raising two little girls, and trying to run our small faith-based boutique.

My girls are naturally so curious, and Tyler and I really wanted to teach them the real meaning behind the glitter and the bells. So, I started searching. Not for gifts, not for decorations. But for something that could help my daughters see the heart of Christmas without me lecturing them into it.

I knew the usual traditions were fun, but I wanted something that pointed them gently toward the One at the center of it all.

I found option after option. Most were cute, some were clever, but none felt right. Then I stumbled onto “Finding Jesus.” It is a lot like Elf on the Shelf, but along with the stuffed Jesus, it also comes with daily scriptures and puzzle pieces to hide. By Christmas morning, the puzzle would form a Nativity.

It was perfect. When the package arrived, I could hardly contain my excitement.

Every morning after that, I crept around the house hiding the piece of the day. Then I waited for the sound—quick footsteps across hardwood, whispers, giggles. Watching them search became my favorite part. Their eyes were bright, their hope uncomplicated.

About halfway through December, I caught myself standing still in the hallway, piece in hand, feeling something tug at me. While they were learning to search for Jesus, I was learning that I had stopped searching the same way. Not intentionally. Life had layered itself thick with schedules and responsibilities, the kind that crowd out wonder.

One morning, as they checked beneath couch cushions and behind curtains, the words of Hebrews 10:23 rose in my heart, “Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful.”

I stood still, letting it settle. I remembered the years I had spent searching for hope. I remembered the moment I first realized Jesus was exactly who He said He was—and how everything changed. That hope had once felt so fresh, so alive.

And here I was, gently reminded: Hold tight. Don’t let go. He is faithful.

By Christmas morning, the final puzzle piece snapped into place, and the Nativity scene spread across the table. The girls beamed. And there behind them, with a lump in my throat, I whispered the truth to my own heart:

Searching for Him is still so worth it.
Holding on to Him is still so necessary.
And hope—real hope—is still found only in Him.

So here’s my invitation to you today:
As you move through this season, keep searching for Jesus. Keep remembering what He’s already done. And keep holding tightly to the hope He has promised—because He is good, and He will never let you go.

— Kirstie Ford

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where have you let “life layers” or busyness crowd out the wonder of searching for Jesus?
  • What promise of God do you need to hold tightly to this season?
  • When have you experienced God’s faithfulness in a way that renewed your hope?
  • How can you create simple moments or traditions that point your heart back to Jesus this December?
  • What does “holding without wavering” look like in your real, daily life right now?
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