Answering the Call Today

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Psalm 39:4 — Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered— how fleeting my life is.

The moment didn’t look important at first.

Ann had pulled into the coffee shop lot just to catch her breath. The town square glowed under its string of lights, the kind that make even an ordinary day feel like a postcard. She was tired. Her mind was buzzing. A warm drink sounded like mercy.

But there it was—that gentle tug she’d felt before: Call Grandma.

She tried to reason with it. She’d call later. Surely a quick cup of coffee wasn’t too much to ask. But the tug only grew more insistent, the way a truth does when you’re trying to ignore it.

So, she stayed in the car and pressed the call button.

Her grandmother answered. They talked about how in the world she raised nine kids, about patience and grit and humor. It was just the two of them sharing a moment together.

Ann’s daughter chimed in from the backseat, crying out for hot chocolate, and Grandma laughed in that soft, knowing-what-it’s-like kind of way. Twenty more minutes passed before Ann realized it. They were simply treasuring each other’s company.

Five days later, Ann was standing at the graveside. She laid a single rose on Grandma’s casket and breathed a prayer of gratitude. She was so thankful she had listened to that still small voice.

As the pastor spoke, he shared a verse that has stayed with Ann ever since. It didn’t feel morbid. It just felt honest.

“Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered—how fleeting my life is” (Psalm 39:4).

That phone call had been a gift she didn’t know she was unwrapping.

Now, on the edge of a new year, Ann keeps telling that story—not because it’s tragic, but because it’s true. Life is short. Time slips away. But moments of presence, love, and faith? Those stay.

And it makes me wonder: if one tug on an ordinary December night became a treasure—what nudge might tomorrow hold… and will we stop long enough to answer it?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When was the last time you felt a gentle nudge to pause, reach out, or be present—but almost ignored it?
  • Psalm 39:4 reminds us that life is fleeting. How does remembering that truth change the way you spend your time today?
  • Is there someone in your life you’ve been meaning to call, visit, or check on—what’s stopping you from doing it now?
  • What small, ordinary moment might God be inviting you to treat as sacred this week?
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The Craigslist Christmas Party

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Ephesians 1:5 — God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.

She walked down the dorm hallway in December, the air heavy with pine-scented candles and detergent, listening to laughter spill from every doorway. Everyone had plans. Everyone but her.

To be honest, she didn’t really have a place to go. Her childhood hadn’t been safe or warm—and that was the one thing she wished for every year. So her parents’ home wasn’t an option. And the thought of spending Christmas alone again settled heavy in her chest.

Tired of the ache, one night she posted on Craigslist, offering eight dollars an hour to rent parents for the holidays. She wasn’t hoping for much—maybe a shared meal, a few hours of attention, a small sense of belonging.

The replies surprised her. Some people offered to help for free. Others wrote back to say they, too, had nowhere to go. They, too, were longing for a place to belong, even if only for an evening.

The biggest surprise wasn’t the loneliness.
It was how willing strangers were to become family.

So she did the most natural thing she could think of. She hosted a potluck.

By midnight, strangers arrived carrying casseroles, cautious smiles, and quiet hope. Some came with wounds they didn’t have words for. Others came simply to offer what they could. That night became something holy. She found encouragement. She found connection. She even found a mentor who would walk with her for years to come.

The gathering became a tradition. Each year, she sets another place at the table, watching how welcoming the lonely stitches together hearts that have been frayed for far too long.

Looking back, it’s clear that belonging was never something she earned. It was something she was offered.

And that’s what makes this story feel so right for Christmas Day.

Because long before we ever thought to look for Him, God made a decision. As Paul writes in Ephesians, God chose in advance to adopt us into His family through Jesus Christ—because He wanted to. Because it brought Him joy.

Christmas is the moment God didn’t just visit us—He claimed us.
Not because we had a place prepared for Him, but because He was preparing a place for us.

Just as that table welcomed strangers into something that felt like family, God invites each of us into a belonging that is not earned, negotiated, or rented by the hour—but freely given through Christ.

And maybe today, as we celebrate the birth of Jesus, we’re reminded of this simple truth:
No one is meant to be alone.
There is always room at the table.
And you are already wanted.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where have you felt the ache of not belonging, especially during the holidays?
  • How does knowing that God wanted to adopt you change the way you see yourself?
  • What does Christmas Day reveal about God’s heart toward those who feel alone or unseen?
  • Who might God be inviting you to welcome—literally or figuratively—into your life this season?
  • How can you live today with gratitude for the fact that you already belong to God’s family?
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Home Alone but Not Abandoned

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Psalm 91:2 — This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I trust Him.

Before there was Kevin McCallister, there was a man with a notebook full of half-baked Christmas ideas and a flight to catch.

John Hughes had been writing one hit after another, but something about Christmas kept tugging at him. He loved the noise of it—the clatter of dishes, the stampede of family, the sweaters that made everyone itchy and happy all at once. And on one chilly morning, he started thinking about the chaos of leaving for a holiday trip. Bags everywhere. Kids shouting. Someone always forgetting their toothbrush.

Then it hit him: what if they forgot a kid?

The idea was ridiculous—and that’s exactly why he loved it.

So he sat down and started writing. Snow fell outside his Chicago window, and his office glowed with the light of a small Christmas tree in the corner. As he typed, something beautiful began to emerge—not just comedy and clever traps, but a story about wonder and courage and joy.

Then came the hunt for the kid who could carry the whole sleigh.

Enter Macaulay Culkin.

There was something in the way he looked at the camera—a mixture of innocence, mischief, and that unspoken “watch this” confidence. It was perfect. He was Kevin McCallister.

When Home Alone finally hit theaters in 1990, no one expected what would happen next. The movie didn’t just make people laugh—it made them feel.

Families saw themselves in that noisy house. Parents remembered the panic of holiday travel. Kids felt the thrill of being clever and brave. And in the middle of all the slapstick and silliness, one simple truth appeared. Even when Kevin was left behind, he was never truly alone.

There was the kindly neighbor keeping an eye from across the street, the world outside that noticed when he needed help, and the little acts of care that surrounded him. In his moment of greatest independence—and greatest fear—he had protection, unseen by him at times but there, nonetheless.

And maybe that’s the lesson that lingers. Like Kevin, we are never truly alone. Psalm 91:2 puts it simply: “This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I trust Him.”

Just as Kevin had someone watching out for him in small, tangible ways, we, too, have a refuge in Christ — a place of safety where we are never unprotected, unseen, or without care.

I think, perhaps, that is why John Hughes’ Home Alone still feels magical every Christmas. It’s not just for the laughs or the clever tricks, but for the simple reminder that we are never truly abandoned or forgotten.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When have you felt alone or forgotten, only to later realize you were being cared for all along?
  • Psalm 91:2 calls God our refuge and place of safety. What does that look like in your everyday life right now?
  • Where do you tend to look for security first when things feel uncertain — and how might God be inviting you to trust Him more fully?
  • How does remembering that you are never truly alone change the way you face fear or responsibility?
  • Who around you might need a reminder this season that they are seen, protected, and not forgotten?
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Emmanuel Is Here Even Now

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Matthew 1:23 — Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel, which means “God is with us.”

No one asked Mary and Joseph if the timing worked for them.

Caesar’s decree swept across the land like a winter wind—sharp, impersonal, and completely unavoidable. Suddenly everyone had somewhere they had to be, even if it made no sense at all.

Roads clogged. Tempers rose. Plans buckled under the pressure of forced obligation. It almost felt like the whole nation of Israel was humming the same ancient longing:

“O Come, O Come, Emmanuel…”

By the time Mary and Joseph finally reached Bethlehem, the town was exactly what weary travelers dread—crowded, chaotic, bursting at the seams. Every innkeeper shook their head. Every doorway was blocked. Every room was full.

Joseph kept knocking anyway.
Rejection. Then more rejection.

Mary steadied herself against a wall, breathing through the ache of a body stretched thin and ready to deliver.

They took the stable because it was all that was left.

And there, in the very town that should have felt like home, they felt the sting of being out of place. They were “mourning in lonely exile here,” waiting—aching—for the Son of God to appear.

Yet underneath all the interruptions, all the inconvenience, something steady hummed in the background. A promise older than Bethlehem. A prophecy still warm with hope:

“Look! The virgin will conceive… and they will call Him Immanuel—God with us.”

Mary and Joseph didn’t need to speak it out loud.
They were carrying the promise itself.
Those words held them together the way a melody holds a song.

“Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.”

Friends, if God chose a crowded town and an unlikely stable to bring His long-awaited Messiah into the world, that tells us something about who He is.

It means He isn’t intimidated by chaos.
He isn’t hindered by imperfect timing.
He isn’t limited by the places that feel too small, too ordinary, or too uncomfortable.

Maybe—just maybe—that’s exactly how He wants to meet you, too.

If you’re facing detours you never planned, if you’re weary, overwhelmed, or craving peace… God can meet you right there.

If you feel out of place, unheard, or unseen… He hears the quiet songs you sing and the hidden cries of your heart.

So take comfort today.

Immanuel has come. And He is with you—even here. Even now.

— Linda Meyers

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where do you feel like the timing of your life isn’t lining up the way you hoped?
  • What “crowded” or chaotic place in your life needs the reminder that God is with you in it?
  • How has God shown up in unexpected or unlikely places before?
  • What part of the Immanuel promise—“God with us”—do you personally need to hold onto today?
  • How might your perspective shift if you believed God could meet you even in the places that feel small, ordinary, or uncomfortable?

LYRICS:

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny
From depths of hell Thy people save
And give them victory o’er the grave
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel

O come, Thou Dayspring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death’s dark shadows put to flight

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Hope Lives in Those Who Believe

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2 Corinthians 5:7 – For we walk by faith, not by sight.

Long before the train steamed across a screen, The Polar Express started, like most Christmas miracles do, with a fantastic idea.

Robert Zemeckis sat with a small picture book in his hands. The story was simple. It told of a boy, a train, and a journey toward belief. But something about it stirred him.

The world had changed since the book’s release in the ’80s. People were busier, louder, and more skeptical. Yet the story felt timeless. He wanted to bring that sense of childlike wonder to life again.

But here was the problem: the short picture book was barely thirty pages long, and its magic wasn’t in its words so much as its feeling. How do you film that? How do you make the world believe in Christmas again?

He didn’t have all the answers. But he knew he had to try.

Zemeckis brought in Tom Hanks, and together they dreamed up something new: not a cartoon, not quite live action, but a film that would feel like stepping into a dream.

The process was long and strange. There were no snowy sets or glittering trains. Just imagination. The voice actors performed scenes without props and pretended to feel the cold, to see the stars, and to hear the bells. This required something deeper than skill. It required belief.

And maybe that’s why the film still feels different.

The people who made it believed before they could see. They worked for years to make sure the snow fell just right, the train’s whistle sounded authentic, and the boy’s wonder felt real.

When the film finally arrived, children leaned forward in their seats, and adults sat still as they remembered what it felt like to hope for something unseen.

That’s the sound of The Polar Express. It’s a reminder of a deeper truth: that faith has always been the bridge between what is seen and what is true.

God calls us to that same kind of belief. He asks us to trust what our eyes can’t yet see, to hold fast to the hope that He is real, and that He keeps His promises. As the Bible says in 2 Corinthians, “For we walk by faith, not by sight.”

You see, He is not Santa or a train that comes rumbling through the snow. He is infinitely more. And even when life feels quiet and uncertain, He is still moving toward us, whispering through the stillness, and inviting us to believe.

Maybe this Christmas, that’s the journey worth taking—not to the North Pole, but toward the Christ who came to rescue and redeem.

So listen again for the sound of hope in the cold night air, and remember that the most extraordinary things begin when we dare to believe in the unseen.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where in your life is God asking you to move forward even though you don’t see the full path yet?
  • What keeps you from trusting God when the outcome is uncertain—fear, doubt, disappointment, past experience?
  • Think of a time when you stepped out in faith. What did you learn about God’s character through that experience?
  • How can you cultivate childlike wonder—like the boy on the train—amid the busyness and noise of the season?
  • What “small yes” might God be inviting you to offer today, even before you see how it all fits together?
  • How might you encourage someone else who is struggling to believe in what they cannot yet see?
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How God Uses Broken Things

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1 Corinthians 1:27 – But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.

Chris bought Kevin’s old van mostly because it was cheap. Kevin had warned him about the radio. “It’s stuck on the Christian station,” he said, handing over the keys. Chris just laughed. He was not looking for inspiration—he was looking for transportation.

When he turned the dial that first time, the radio worked perfectly. The speakers crackled to life with a familiar guitar riff. Zeppelin. Chris grinned and rolled down the window. The wind rushed in, the road stretched ahead, and for a moment, everything felt right.

A week later, bills caught up with him. He had to sell the van back to his friend.

The next day, Chris got a phone call. It was from Kevin.

“You won’t believe this, but it’s stuck on that same station again.”

They both agreed it was hilarious and odd. “What a coincidence” Chris thought. But what happened next was impossible to shrug off.

His friend with the radio began to change. Slowly at first, but he stopped drinking so much. He started showing up to his kid’s baseball games. He became calmer, and his voice started to carry something new— hope, maybe.

Chris began to wonder if that stubborn radio had been tuned by more than human hands. Maybe it was no accident at all. Maybe that old van had been waiting for Kevin all along.

He could not shake the thought. Because the same man who once cursed at traffic was now humming along to worship songs in a rusty van. He could see now that God uses even broken things to reach people who are running out of road.

Maybe that is the miracle we often miss. God still moves through the most ordinary parts of our lives. The conversation you almost skipped, the interruption you found inconvenient, the thing that did not go your way. Each might be God’s gentle way of drawing you closer.

So don’t dismiss anything He’s doing. As 1 Corinthians 1:27 reminds us, “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.”

Perhaps today is worth slowing down and asking, “How is God trying to get my attention? What might He be trying to reach me through?”

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When has God used something unexpected—or even inconvenient—to get your attention?
  • Is there a situation in your life right now that feels small, foolish, or broken, yet might be exactly where God is working?
  • How does this story remind you that God’s power doesn’t depend on perfection or strength?
  • Who in your life might need encouragement to see that God can work through ordinary or imperfect things?
  • What would change if you started looking for God in the interruptions instead of trying to avoid them?
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Lessons in Faith, Family, and Finding Joy

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Romans 12:9-13 — Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

Halloween has always been bittersweet for me. Nine years ago, my sister Patti went home to be with Jesus on this very day. Patti wasn’t what the world would call “normal.” She had learning challenges and physical limitations, but those never defined her — not to us, and certainly not to her. She lived with joy, grit, and a deep love for people and for Jesus.

Every year, I remember Patti by reflecting on the twelve lessons she taught me. They’re simple, yet profound reminders of what a Christ-shaped life looks like:

  • Be resourceful. It’s not about your size or abilities, but your willingness to be part of things — no matter what others think.
  • Never give up.
  • Roll with the flow, even if it means being inconvenienced for a little while.
  • Smile and know who you are.
  • Laugh often and enjoy life.
  • Know no strangers — everyone you meet is worth your time.
  • Love your family unconditionally.
  • Love Jesus even more.
  • Serve others. No matter the hurdles you face, someone always needs help — and you can be the one to give it.
  • Be a friend to all.
  • Be yourself.

When I look at that list, I’m reminded of Paul’s words in Romans 12:9-13:

“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.”

That’s Patti. She lived this out not by trying to be “normal,” but by being exactly who God made her to be. My brother once said, “What if Patti was always the normal one, and we are not?” That thought still stops me in my tracks. Maybe the truest version of “normal” isn’t what culture says, but what God calls us to: childlike faith, unconditional love, unashamed boldness for Jesus, and a life poured out for others.

This Halloween, as kids run door-to-door in costumes and laughter fills the streets, I’ll be celebrating Patti — the joy she brought, the faith she carried, and the love she shared. And my prayer is that we all might learn to live a little more like her: fully ourselves, fully alive in Christ, and fully unafraid to shine His light.

Because in the end, “normal” isn’t found on a checklist of abilities or expectations. As Patti reminded me, “Normal” is just a setting on the dryer.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT:

  • Where in your life do you feel pressured to be “normal”?
  • How might God be inviting you instead to live with childlike faith, bold love, and the freedom of simply being who He made you to be?

 

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From Brokenness to Blessing

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Hebrews 6:19-20 — This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls. It leads us through the curtain into God’s inner sanctuary. Jesus has already gone in there for us. 

Eliza Hewitt was not used to silence. She had built her life around classrooms, chalkboards, and the steady hum of work. She liked being useful and always moving toward something.

But then the injury came, and life suddenly got quiet.

Days stretched out like long empty roads. Her body throbbed, her spirit became restless, and questions circled in her mind. Why me? What now? Where is God in all of this?

She would have traded anything for answers.

But as the days passed, Eliza started to read her Bible. This was not the casual kind of reading used to pass the time. No. She was desperate.

And in those long, slow hours, she saw things she had never noticed before. Words she had skimmed past now felt alive. Promises she had memorized now felt like they were written just for her.

She knew she was not just surviving this hardship. God was doing something in it.

One day she found herself humming an old tune she had started writing before everything changed. At the time, it was just another melody. Now, the words carried weight:

“When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be.”

Those days in Scripture had changed her. Hope was no longer abstract—it was a rock-solid anchor for her soul. It was what kept her steady when everything else felt unmoored.

When she finally released the song, it spread like wildfire. People who were hurting and searching found something in those words—something bigger than their pain.

Eliza never would have chosen her hardship, but looking back, she saw it clearly. Her pain had not been wasted. God had turned her silence into a song of hope, and it was too valuable to keep to herself.

That’s the thing about hope—it doesn’t just hold you steady; it gives you something to offer others.

Could it be that the very thing you are wrestling with right now is the story someone else needs to hear?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What hardship or “quiet season” has God used to deepen your hope in Him?
  • How has His Word become an anchor for your soul in times of uncertainty?
  • Who might need to hear the song of hope your story is still writing?

 

When We All Get to Heaven

Sing the wondrous love of Jesus
Sing His mercy and His grace
In the mansions, bright and blessed
He’ll prepare for us a place

When we all get to Heaven
What a day of rejoicing that will be
When we all see Jesus
We’ll sing and shout the victory

While we walk the pilgrim pathway
Clouds will overspread the sky
But when traveling days are over
Not a shadow, not a sigh

When we all get to Heaven
What a day of rejoicing that will be
When we all see Jesus
We’ll sing and shout the victory

Onward to the prize before us
Soon His beauty we’ll behold
Soon the pearly gates will open
And we shall tread the streets of gold

When we all get to Heaven
What a day of rejoicing that will be
When we all see Jesus
We’ll sing and shout the victory

(Words: Eliza E. Hewitt / Music: Emily D. Wilson / Arranged By: Mark Hall)

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The Day Hope Came Back

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Romans 15:13 – I pray that the God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in Him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit. 

“Enclosed is a check to sponsor one day of Hope. I will be mailing checks to you monthly.”

That is what Susan wrote on the card.

Hope. The word alone brought a lump to her throat.

Hope was her Cocker Spaniel. She had a coat like caramel and eyes that always seemed to understand. For years, she was with Susan for everything. Walks in the early morning. Long afternoons on the porch. The simple parts of life no one else really saw, she was there for them all.

When she passed away in January, she did not know what to do with the grief and stillness. For a while, the house felt unfamiliar. She would catch herself reaching for the leash, looking for Hope, and listening for her feet on the floor.

But even in the ache, Susan noticed something. Each morning, she would turn on Always Uplifting 88.7 The Cross. And somehow, the words that came through the speakers gave her something she did not know she needed. Not a distraction. Not a fix. Just a reminder that hope still had a place in her story.

As she listened, she began to see hope differently.

Real hope wasn’t just the name of her dog—it was the presence of Someone greater.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him,
so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” — Romans 15:13

Now, by giving she wants to share that same hope with others.

You see, real hope is not sentimental. It is a Person who shows up when life falls apart. He is present on the good days and the bad. His name is Jesus, and if you have known Him in that way, you know He is worth sharing.

Is there someone who needs the same hope that carried you? You may not know their name. But just like Susan, you can still be part of the reason they keep going.

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The Hymn of Honest Prayer

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Matthew 11:28 — Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

Annie felt an ache deep in her soul that she couldn’t quite put into words. As she went about her day—washing dishes, caring for her children— it was not a sudden crisis that brought this feeling on. It was just life.

You can probably imagine being in her shoes, where her tasks seemed endless yet essential. Still, no matter how much she loved her family, she knew there were limits to what she could do on her own.

As she went about her routine, she stopped mid-step as this thought began to form in her mind: she couldn’t make it through even the simplest tasks without God.

After taking a moment to pray, she began to see the beauty in admitting that. As a gifted hymn writer, Annie Sherwood Hawks knew these words were not just for her. So, she wrote them down into this refrain.

“I need Thee, oh, I need Thee;
Every hour I need Thee;
Oh, bless me now, my Savior,
I come to Thee.”

That prayer became the hymn we still sing today, but it began in one woman’s simple dependence on God. It reminds us all that, no matter how strong or capable we may seem, there is a deeper need within us that only God can meet.

Maybe today you find yourself in the same place, feeling a quiet ache that you can’t quite explain. What if you turned that feeling into a prayer. He is always near, ready to meet you right where you are.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What areas of your life feel heavy or exhausting right now?
  • How might you respond to Jesus’ invitation to “come” and find rest in Him?
  • When was the last time you admitted your need for God in the middle of ordinary life?
  • What might “every hour I need Thee” look like in your daily rhythm?

I NEED THEE EVERY HOUR LYRICS

VERSE 1

I need Thee every hour,
Most gracious Lord;
No tender voice like Thine
Can peace afford.

CHORUS

I need Thee, oh, I need Thee;
Every hour I need Thee;
Oh, bless me now, my Savior!
I come to Thee.

VERSE 2

I need Thee every hour,
Stay Thou near by;
Temptations lose their power
When Thou art nigh.

VERSE 3

I need Thee every hour,
In joy or pain;
Come quickly and abide,
Or life is vain.

VERSE 4

I need Thee every hour,
Teach me Thy will;
And Thy rich promises
In me fulfill.

VERSE 5

I need Thee every hour,
Most Holy One;
Oh, make me Thine indeed,
Thou blessed Son.

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