Thoughts from Lisa Williams to encourage you today.

When God Says Go

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Jeremiah 29:11 – “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”

I have always admired people who have a plan—the ones with career goals, retirement savings, a five-step strategy for their life. But that was not me at 21. I was just a girl praying like my life depended on it and asking God what on earth I was supposed to do.

And then, out of nowhere, I heard one word in my heart: Radio.

It made no sense why God would say this. I had no background, no connections, and no idea where to even begin. But not long after, I was listening to a Christian station, and I heard them mention a position in Camdenton, Missouri.

Something about it felt important. So, I grabbed my trusty 1990s atlas, traced the highways with my finger, and found it. It was less than a day’s trip away. That was doable.

Monday morning came, and I hit the road to apply for the job.

Tuesday, they called me back for an interview.

Wednesday, they offered me the job.

And on Thursday? I was live on the air.

I still remember the feeling of sitting in that studio, headphones on, heart pounding as I opened the mic for the first time. My voice—broadcasting out to people I had never met. It was thrilling, terrifying, and absolutely right.

For five years, I showed up, spoke, and trusted that somehow, God was using it. Then, like all things, that season came to a close as God opened other doors in radio.

But even now, after all these years, I look back and think—what if I hadn’t gone to Camdenton, Missouri? What if I had let fear keep me from the road that led me there? But I did go. I showed up, scared but willing. And because of that, I got to step into something I never could have planned for myself.

Maybe that is where you are right now—standing at the edge of something big, uncertain, and maybe even a little terrifying. Maybe you don’t feel ready, or maybe the road ahead looks impossibly unclear. But the truth is, God doesn’t call us to have all the answers—He just calls us to take the next step.

And when you do? You just might find yourself in the middle of a story only He could write.

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Still Wanted, Still Loved

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Luke 19:10 “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” 

Charles doesn’t say much about his past these days. But every now and then, sitting quietly on the porch with his coffee, the memories come back.

And when they do, they still bring tears.

He remembers being young, too young to feel the kind of shame he carried. There were no words for it then, but he was confident: God hated him. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see someone broken. He saw someone unworthy. Unloved. And eventually, he made a quiet, painful agreement in his heart: If that is how God feels about me, then I want nothing to do with Him.

So, he shut the door, locked it, and threw away the key.

Then came the war.

Vietnam broke him in ways no one could see. The blood, the terror, the weight of it all—it never really left. But even harder than war was what waited for him when he got home. A country that didn’t understand, didn’t ask, and sometimes seemed to hate him for surviving.

So he turned to whatever might quiet the pain. Anything to help him forget. He was chasing peace, but all he ever found was numbness.

By Easter night in 1982, he had a plan. His life was going to end.

But it didn’t.

Because Jesus showed up.

Not as a feeling. Not a metaphor. He came in person. Charles still shakes when he talks about it.

“You’ve made some mistakes,” Jesus said, “and I am the only one who can help you.”

In that stillness, something happened. Like a jolt of electricity. Like light breaking through a locked door or a wave crashing on the shore. It was more than forgiveness. It was the feeling of being chosen. Wanted. Loved, even after everything. Charles collapsed to the floor. And in that moment, everything changed.

Now, when he wipes away a tear, he remembers who he was. But that man is gone. In his place is a husband, a father, and a man who walks in real peace. His life was rebuilt by a Savior who stepped into his darkest moment and said, “You’re not too far gone.”

And maybe, if you’ve felt dead inside for too long, his story is meant for you.

Because Easter is not just history. It is a living God who still walks into rooms and says, “I am the only one who can help you.”

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Layers of Love

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Galatians 6:10 – “Therefore, whenever we have the opportunity, we should do good to everyone — especially to those in the family of faith.” 

I was digging through an old box when I found a photo I had not seen in years.

There I was: second grade me, with the biggest smile and standing in a green dress, white cardigan, and the tallest, most over-the-top Easter bonnet you have ever seen. It kind of looked a little bit like a birthday cake on top of my head. One with many layers and a ribbon that tied it under my chin.

I laughed out loud. “Wow, Mama… you really outdid yourself.”

And she did.

Our class was having an Easter parade, and every kid was supposed to make a bonnet. But I didn’t make mine. Instead, my mom stayed up at the kitchen table and tirelessly worked cutting and sewing, layering ribbon and lace until it was completed.

I was so proud to wear that bonnet. I felt like the queen of the Easter parade.

And now, looking at that picture as a grown woman, it is obvious to me what that Easter bonnet meant to me. I knew that I was loved by my mom.

It made me wonder how many people are walking through life without anyone making them feel cared for like that. Without anyone going the extra mile just to say, “You matter to me.”

We have the chance to be that for someone: to show up, to do more than is required, and to speak worth over someone’s life.

Because love that costs you something—even if it is just your time—is the kind people remember. And sometimes, the simplest things we make or give or do in love end up being the things they carry with them forever.

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The Courage To Follow Through

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“Let what you say be simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything more than this comes from evil.” 

Matthew 5:37 

In radio, you learn quickly—if you make a promise, people will remember. 

I’ve spent years helping with fundraisers at stations across the country. It’s one of my favorite things—watching generosity ripple through a community, knowing that each dollar represents a life touched. When my friends in Minnesota invited me to help with their fundraiser, I was all in. 

We were live on-air, pushing to meet the station’s goal, doing everything we could to keep listeners engaged. And then, in a burst of enthusiasm, Andy Youso, Niki, and I made a bold pledge: if we hit our goal, we would jump into Lake Superior. 

We made a big deal out of it, laughing and daring people to make it happen. 

And they did. The goal was shattered.  

But…that’s where things got complicated. I had already left town by the time the challenge came due, which meant Andy and Niki braved the icy waters without me. I figured that was the end of it. Life moved on. We celebrated the win. 

But Andy? Andy did not move on. 

Any time my name came up, so did this unfinished business. “Lisa still hasn’t jumped in,” he’d remind me. Again and again and again. 

And the truth was? He was right. I had made a promise. I had said yes. And my yes needed to mean something. 

So I booked another flight to Minnesota. 

I stood on the edge of that freezing lake, feeling the wind bite through my jacket. I thought, Well, this is it. No backing out now. And then, I took a deep breath and jumped. 

And as the icy shock stole my breath, I couldn’t help but laugh. Because in that moment, it wasn’t just about a fundraiser or a bet—it was about integrity. About living out the kind of faith that does what it says. 

These days, people break commitments like they’re nothing. But what if we chose to be different? What if we decided that when we say we’ll do something, we actually do it? 

It might not always be easy, but that’s the kind of person I want to be. 

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When Hope Feels Impossible

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Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful. 

Hebrews 10:23

Courtney reached for the stuffed giraffe, waving it in front of the baby in front of her. He let out a squeal as his tiny arms reached up to grab it, fingers barely able to close around its soft body. 

She laughed, brushing a curl off his forehead. “You like that one, huh?” 

He giggled in response. A tube ran from his nose, looping over his chubby cheek. Another fed into his stomach, connected to the machine beside him. A year ago, the sight of it would’ve sent a lump straight to her throat. 

Now? 

Now she just saw him. 

Her miracle boy. 

She hugged him close, rocking back and forth, soaking in the warmth of him, the weight of him. 

She remembered sitting in a doctor’s office, gripping her husband’s hand like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. 

“Your son has a rare form of dwarfism. He will not live.” 

The words landed like bricks, one after another. No hope. No future. Just impossible decisions no parent should ever have to make. 

Except—something in her refused to accept that. So, she fought. 

She dug into research, spent late nights scouring medical journals, and prayed like never before. And somewhere in that searching, she felt it—that quiet nudge, that voice that said, Keep going. Don’t be afraid. 

After six months in the hospital, against all odds, they brought him home. 

Now, here he was—laughing, playing, thriving. 

Courtney knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There would be more hospital visits, more scary nights, more unknowns. 

But she also knew this—God had been better to them than she had ever dared to hope. 

It’s easy to get caught up in the fear of what’s ahead. To wonder if you’ll have enough strength or faith to make it through. 

But today, she wasn’t looking forward. She was looking back. 

At every time, God had provided. At every moment, she thought they wouldn’t make it—but did. And if God had carried them this far, He wasn’t about to stop now. 

Maybe that’s something we all need to remember. When fear whispers about the future, look back. Look at all He has done. And dare to believe He will still be good in the days to come. 

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When God Says, “It’s Time”

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“The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way; though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand.”

Psalms 37:23-24

J.D. stood in front of the mirror, gathering his long hair into a loose ponytail. He had waited years for this—the chance to grow it out. His Christian school had always required boys to have short hair, but once we started homeschooling, he finally had the chance to let it grow. And so, he did. 

I didn’t mind it much. It was just hair, and a chance for him to figure out who he was and wanted to be. Despite the challenges of being mistaken for a girl, I knew it was crucial to support his journey of self-expression and independence. But as time passed, I found myself wondering if I was doing the right thing. 

Then, one evening, he came to me and said, “Mom, do you think I should cut my hair?” 

I hesitated. “Well, what do you think?” 

He shrugged. “I think I want to, but I am just not sure when.” 

Everything in me wanted to say, Now! Right now is a great time! But instead, I swallowed my eagerness and smiled. “Whenever you’re ready, just let me know.” 

Weeks passed. If I ever mentioned it, his answer was the same: “Not yet.” Then, one day, he walked into my home office with his face clouded with uncertainty. “Mom, I want to cut my hair… but I’m scared. It feels like part of my identity. I don’t know who I am without it. Will you pray for me?” 

So, we prayed. For clarity. For peace. For him to hear God’s voice. 

The next day at work, I got a text. “Mom, I was talking to my teacher, and she told me she had a dream that I cut my hair. I think this is what I want to do! I’m ready.” 

That night, as the scissors snipped through each lock, J.D. lifted his head as he studied his reflection. His smile said everything. You see, it was never about the hair, but all about how he saw himself in God’s eyes. Now, he had his answer. 

Years have passed since that moment, and J.D. now stands on the edge of adulthood, facing bigger decisions than a haircut. But when I think back to that night, I am reminded: If God could guide him then, He can guide him now. And He can do the same for all of us. 

Because no decision—big or small—falls outside of His care. 

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The Miracle of Letting Go

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“Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” 

1 Peter 5:6-7

Adrian had always believed in one simple truth: hard work could fix anything. You push through, you keep going, and when life gets tough, you push harder. It made sense to him for a long time. 

But then it stopped working. 

The job offers dried up. His marriage ended, and suddenly, he was left alone in a house that used to feel like home. No matter how much effort he poured into it, things stayed broken. 

One evening, feeling completely worn out, Adrian did something he had not done in ages—he prayed. 

“God, I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t carry this alone. Please, take it from me. Put me where You want me to be.” 

And for the first time in a long while, Adrian stopped trying to control everything. He let go. 

Less than a month later, the phone rang. 

He found out he got the job! And not just any job, it was the one he had been praying for. The hours worked, it was close to home, and most importantly, it allowed him to be there when his kids got off the bus. It was the perfect fit and a clear reminder that God had been working all along. 

When Adrian called in to Always Uplifting 88.7 The Cross to tell us his story, his voice cracked with emotion from relief. For the first time in a long time, he was not carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

Maybe you’re there right now, too. Exhausted. Stressed. Wondering why things aren’t falling into place. What if God has been waiting for you to surrender? 

It might be time to stop fighting. To lay it all down. Because sometimes, the freedom we are looking for does not come from trying harder, but from surrendering. 

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Reject Lies, Embrace Truth

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“We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.”

2 Corinthians 10:5

It is hard to put into words how the lies in my mind can sometimes take over. For years, they had come uninvited. “You’re not loved. You’re irrelevant. Nobody cares about you.”

They were just thoughts—small, passing ones.  But over time, they started to sound like truth. I had never thought much about it until one day when I was talking to my friend Brenda.

We were sitting at her kitchen table, the scent of fresh coffee curling in the air, when I finally admitted it.

“I know God calls me loved, chosen, and worthy,” I said, “but… I don’t always feel like it.”

Brenda set her mug down and leaned in. “Lisa, have you ever left honey on the table?”

I frowned.

“Honey,” she repeated. “What happens if you leave it sitting out?”

I shrugged. “Flies come.”

She nodded. “That is what agreeing with the enemy does. When you believe the lies—even just a little—it is like putting honey on the table. It invites the swarm. But you do not have to feed them.”

Tears stung my eyes. I had been trying to fight off the lies for so long, but I had never considered that I was the one allowing them to stay.

Brenda smiled, her voice gentle but firm. “You need to stop agreeing with the wrong things. And start agreeing with the right ones.”

That night, as I lay in bed, the lies tried again. But instead of letting them sit, I whispered truth into the dark.

I am seen. I am enough. I am held by God.

And I will keep saying it—because agreement matters.

What have you been agreeing with? And what might change if you started speaking God’s truth instead?

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God’s Lavish Love

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“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!”

1 John 3:1

Jon David was my early bird, and I was very much not.

Every morning, without fail, he would burst into my room with rapid-fire requests: “Mom, I’m hungry! Mom, I’m thirsty! Mom, read me a book!”

Most mornings, I barely cracked my eyes open before mumbling something like, “Give me five more minutes, buddy.”

But one morning, he woke me up in a way I will never forget. Instead of his usual boisterous entrance, he stood quietly by my bed. He brushed my arm, and in the softest voice, he said, “I love you, sweet angel. You are a gift from heaven.”

Then he kissed my cheek and whispered it again!

I opened my eyes to see his face beaming at me, and my heart melted on the spot. I barely had time to gather my thoughts before he skipped off, leaving me lying there, stunned by the purity of that moment.

Later that day, as I drove home after dropping him off at kindergarten, I could not stop thinking about it. Then it hit me—he had repeated my words. The ones I had whispered to him night after night. The ones I had spoken over him when he was scared, when he was sleepy, and when I just wanted him to know how deeply he was loved.

Somehow, those words had settled into his heart. And now, without being asked, he had given them back to me.

And that is exactly how God loves us. He does not just hand it to us in small, measured doses. He pours it over us—like an unstoppable waterfall with waves that never stop crashing onto the shore. He delights in us, treasures us, whispers over us, “I love you, sweet angel. You are a gift from heaven.”

I don’t know what your morning looked like today, friend. Maybe it was chaos. Maybe it was loneliness. But I do know this: you are deeply and lavishly loved. And do you know what the most beautiful thing you can do with that kind of love is?

Let it pour back out.

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Ask Boldly, Receive Abundantly

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“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.”

Matthew 7:7 

He almost didn’t do it.

His mom’s diagnosis had turned their world upside down, and he wanted to help. But what could a 14-year-old really do?

The idea had formed in a rush: if he shaved his head, he could raise money for cancer research. But standing on his neighbor’s porch now with a pair of clippers, he felt ridiculous.

He clutched them in his hand like a lifeline. “Uh—hi,” he started, voice cracking. “My mom has cancer. I want to raise money for research, so I’m shaving my head. Would you be willing to donate?”

Silence.

His heart pounded. The awkwardness clawed at him, but then the neighbor asked, “How much are you hoping to raise?”

He shared his goal. It sounded impossible the moment he said it, but the neighbor disappeared inside. When he returned, he handed the boy a check for a thousand dollars. The exact amount!

The boy’s mouth fell open. “Wait. What?”

The neighbor just smiled. “Yeah, and I am also going to talk at our homeowners’ association meeting tonight about how we can do more.”

He walked home with the check in hand, mind spinning. He had expected pocket change. But this? This was so much bigger.

All he had done was ask. And generosity had answered—louder than he ever imagined.

We tell ourselves we are too small to make a difference. That what we have to offer could never be enough. But maybe the real question is not if we can help. Maybe it is whether we are willing to step out, awkward and unsure, and simply try.

Because sometimes, when we do, hope shows up in ways we never saw coming.

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