The Tension and The Choice

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1 Corinthians 13:4-5 — Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.

The Valentine’s aisle is a terrible place to reread a text that hurt your feelings.

I’m standing there with my cart half full, surrounded by pink balloons and candy hearts, staring at my phone. My husband David’s message wasn’t mean. It was just… short. Short enough to feel dismissive. And suddenly, in the middle of glittery cards, a knot tightens in my chest.

We love each other deeply. That’s not in question. But love doesn’t cancel friction. And in this moment, I feel like protecting myself, going quiet, and holding onto the irritation. Holding onto it feels justified, like self defense. Forgiving feels premature, like handing out a free pass before it’s earned.

As I walk past the displays, the cards start preaching at me.

  • “Love is patient.”
  • “Love is kind.”
  • “Love keeps no record of wrongs.”

I know those words, and I believe them. They’re straight out of 1 Corinthians. But instead of comforting me, the words irritate me. Because choosing love doesn’t feel poetic right now. It feels inconvenient. Letting this go feels like losing ground.

But I know, deep down, that love doesn’t collapse in one dramatic moment; it erodes in the simple ones we refuse to forgive. Forgiveness isn’t about being right—it’s about keeping the heart open, clearing the air, trusting God with justice, and choosing one another.

So, right there, between stuffed bears and heart-shaped boxes, I forgive him. Before apology, before explanation, before the weight can settle in. I hand the moment to God.

And the release is immediate.

The knot loosens. I let out a breath, and peace comes back faster than I expect. Later, when David does apologize—because he does—the conversation is lighter. Easier. The moment passes without leaving a scar. Love feels protected, not by my defenses, but by choosing to give grace.

That’s when it clicks for me. Forgiveness is not forgetting or pretending things don’t hurt. It’s not blindly walking back into old patterns, and sometimes it doesn’t even mean reconnection.

Forgiveness is laying down bitterness, releasing judgment, and trusting God with what we cannot control.

This Valentine’s week, love may not look poetic or like it does in your favorite Rom-com. It may look more like practicing 1 Corinthians 13 in real time: patience, kindness, and releasing small offenses before they grow. God notices every hurt, even the small ones, and He invites us to let Him carry them so love can breathe.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What small hurt or irritation are you holding onto right now that God may be inviting you to release?
  • Which phrase from 1 Corinthians 13:4–5 feels hardest to live out in your current relationships—and why?
  • How might choosing forgiveness before an apology change the atmosphere of your heart or your home?
  • What would it look like to trust God with justice instead of keeping a mental record of wrongs?
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Wisdom Beside Me

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Proverbs 24:6 — So don’t go to war without wise guidance; victory depends on having many advisers.

The track was quiet that afternoon—the kind of quiet that lets you hear yourself think. I was walking beside my mentor, my safe place for the messy thoughts I don’t always voice out loud.

I was heavy with doubts swirling in my mind—the next steps God was asking me to take, the fear of failing, the temptation to lean on my own understanding instead of His.

She didn’t rush me. She just listened, eyes steady, letting my words spill into the space between us. Then she began asking questions—questions that cut deeper than my surface worries, questions that made me confront what I’d been trying to avoid. I didn’t always want the answers she gave. Sometimes they felt sharp, uncomfortable. But they were exactly what I needed.

Gently, she reminded me I didn’t have to carry this alone. “Lean into what God has already shown you,” she said. “You don’t have to figure it all out at once.” Her words weren’t magic—they didn’t make every step clear—but they anchored me. They pointed me toward trust instead of fear, toward faith instead of my own frantic plans.

I thought about Proverbs 24:6 as she spoke: “So don’t go to war without wise guidance; victory depends on having many advisers.” I saw it in real time—this wisdom, born from years of walking with God, shaping me, steadying me, and helping me see my next step with clarity and courage.

I left that track lighter, steadier, and stronger. The weight hadn’t vanished, but I’d been reminded that God often works through people to guide us, clarify the path, and empower us to move forward boldly.

If you’ve been carrying your next step all by yourself, consider inviting someone into your journey—someone with wisdom who has walked before you in faith. Pray that God will place a mentor and a voice of truth in your life. And then, step forward with confidence, trusting that God uses the counsel of the faithful to equip and strengthen you for the road ahead.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Who in your life could serve as a mentor or wise adviser to guide you through your next steps?
  • Are you carrying decisions or burdens on your own that you could bring to someone for counsel?
  • How do you discern between your own plans and God’s guidance in a situation?
  • When has seeking advice or mentorship helped you gain clarity or courage in the past?
  • What steps can you take this week to invite someone into your journey of faith and decision-making?
  • How can you cultivate a spirit of listening and humility when receiving counsel, even when it challenges you?
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No More Hiding from God

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So I kept the door closed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

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

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Hebrews 12:11 — No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.

The alarm goes off. The room is dim, and the house is silent. I crack my eyes open and debate whether I should get moving.

I stand in my pajamas, slip on my sneakers, and pull out the treadmill walking pad with little enthusiasm. My first steps are slow and stiff. I really do not want to do this, yet discipline, not motivation, keeps me moving.

When I skip mornings like this, I notice it later. My shoulders tighten. My thoughts spin faster than they should, and there is a restlessness that I feel all day. Showing up—even when it feels inconvenient—creates a steadiness I cannot manufacture any other way.

Over time, the practice begins to shape me in ways I did not expect. Strength forms where there was once weakness. Peace stretches into the gaps between my thoughts, and I realize that this is strengthening something deeper than muscle.

It is training my spirit to trust the slow, steady process.

Discipline is rarely enjoyable in the moment, but it leaves something good behind. Scripture reminds me of this truth: “No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it is painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way” (Hebrews 12:11).

I step off the pad, breathing heavier than when I started, and pour my iced coffee. The house is still quiet, the lights still low, but I feel different.

Every day we face the same choice: comfort or discipline. When we choose ease, we never walk away changed. Consistency shapes what “want to” never can.

So this morning, I want to encourage you: whatever your goals are—spiritual, personal, or practical—lean into God and keep moving forward. You may not feel ready. You may not feel strong. But by His grace, you can do this. You were made to tackle hard things, and showing up matters more than you realize.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where in your life do you find yourself waiting for motivation instead of practicing discipline?
  • Can you identify a small, consistent habit that has produced peace or steadiness over time?
  • How does it change your perspective to view discipline as training rather than punishment?
  • What “peaceful harvest” might God be growing in you through a hard or inconvenient season right now?
  • What is one small way you can choose faithfulness over comfort this week?
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Grace in the Pickup Line

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Job 19:25 — For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last He will stand upon the earth.

I ease into the Walmart pickup lane, toddler in tow. There are crayons scattered across the backseat, and the radio hums softly in the background. I just let myself sink into the moment.

For a minute, I just sit there and remember the first time I tried Walmart pickup. From what everyone told me, it was supposed to make my life easier. But when my bags arrived, I discovered that something had gone terribly wrong.

I noticed I was missing tomatoes, chicken broth, shredded cheese, and other key ingredients I needed.

First world problems, am I right?

But something about that poor experience made me decide that this kind of grocery delivery was not for me. There was, of course, no way I would ever do that again.

Then I became a mom.

Juggling burp cloths and bottles, working full time, and absolutely needing a break, I decided to give curbside delivery one more try. And it was amazing. I mean, the workers load the bags in your car for you, the toddler wasn’t wrestling out of a shopping cart, and I could take a moment to relax after a busy day.

There’s nothing like a re-do, right?

I left that first experience with a bad taste in my mouth, but it’s a shame it took me so long to give it a second chance. Now I’m it’s biggest fan.

And I know this is strangely deep when talking about Walmart Pickup, but that’s what the whole gospel is about. Isn’t it? Re-dos and redemption.

In scripture, Job said it best—declaring hope not from ease, but from the depths of loss. “For I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end He will stand on the earth.”

Jesus is our redeemer. He is the God of the Re-do.

And I realize grace like this isn’t just for other people, I need it too. Grace for trying again after a stumble and for giving myself a second chance when the first attempt did not go as planned.

As I merge back into traffic, I realize that God offers us these little invitations more often than I notice. Maybe what feels like a mistake is actually a blessing in disguise. Maybe God is saying, “Try again. This is meant to work this time.”

And I wonder, what might you discover if you say yes to a re-do today?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where in your life have you written something off as a “bad experience” and decided not to try again?
  • How does knowing that Jesus is your Redeemer—the God of re-dos—change the way you view your past mistakes or disappointments?
  • Is there an area where you need to receive grace instead of withholding it from yourself?
  • What might God be inviting you to revisit, retry, or trust Him with again today?
  • How can you extend the same redemption and second chances you’ve received to someone else this week?
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Joy That Survives the Fall

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1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 – Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

I climbed the snowy hill with more curiosity than confidence. Sitting on the slick rubber tube, I shifted slightly to see how it would respond beneath me. The snow crunched under my boots, and the cold nipped at my fingers as I adjusted my grip.

My hair whipped across my face, tangling against the wind. My friends lingered behind, part cheerleaders, part mischief-makers.

Then came the shove that sent me sliding.

For a moment, it felt amazing. The tube glided over the packed snow, carrying me faster and faster. My laugh burst out before I could catch it. The hill seemed bigger than all my problems as if the world transformed just for me. Every worry felt distant like the slope itself had stripped them away.

Then the bump came.

A hidden root flipped the tube, and suddenly I was rolling, arms and legs flailing, snow filling every pocket of my jacket. When I finally stopped, I lay on my back, gasping, and laughing at myself. My friends arrived, faces concerned. I waved them off. I was fine. I was more than fine—I felt alive in a way that smooth rides never achieve.

Later, as I rubbed snow from my coat and shook my boots, I thought about how important it is to feel joy like that. I thought about that verse that says, “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” Those words had always meant something to me, but now they felt alive.

Joy is not the smooth ride. It is what endures the tumbles, what stays when the unexpected spins you around. Gratitude is a choice, and laughter is proof it can stick, even in the mess.

So when the next surprise comes—and it will—don’t let the fall write the story. No, let God do it. Keep riding and keep trusting that the One who steadies you will never let you go.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When life feels unpredictable or messy, how easy is it for you to hold on to joy? What helps you return to it?
  • Which part of this verse is hardest for you right now — rejoicing, praying continually, or giving thanks? Why?
  • How have unexpected “tumbles” in your life shaped your faith rather than diminished it?
  • What would it look like to choose gratitude even when circumstances aren’t smooth or comfortable?
  • How might trusting God with the ride — not just the outcome — change the way you face what’s ahead?
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Hand Picked by God

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John 15:16 — You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you.

A few years ago, Bri and I went Christmas shopping for the radio station. We started the morning with coffee in hand and a mission in mind. We were going to make a lot of kids’ Christmas mornings brighter.

We both knew it would take hours, and we were ready for it. We mapped out our route, and started a friendly competition: who could spot the best toys at the best prices first?

We moved down the aisles like treasure hunters, testing buttons, reading labels, and shaking boxes just to see if a toy might survive rough little hands. I held up a puzzle and said, “This could be good, but will they like it?”

Bri held up a stuffed animal and declared, “Maybe, but how about this instead?”

By the third store, our carts were overflowing, energies were draining, and our imaginations were fading. We were working hard just to stay intentional for each kid because, still, we wanted to make each child’s Christmas Wish possible.

We pictured kids opening these gifts, surprised and squealing. We remembered the generosity of each and every listener of 88.7 The Cross whose generosity made this possible. It mattered deeply, so we pressed on.

When we came to the end of our day’s labor of love, I stood there in the self-checkout line and a thought struck me. It was something like this.

We were being intentional on behalf of strangers and thinking through each choice with care. If we could do that for people we would never meet, how considerate must God be in choosing us?

John 15:16 came to mind: “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give you.”

God does not pick us at random. He chooses with purpose. He knows us completely and loves us. And just like Jesus says in John 15, He chooses us so that our lives would bear fruit — the kind that lasts.

By the time the final bags were loaded into the car, my feet were sore but my heart felt so full because I hadn’t thought of it quite like that before.

I am Hand-picked. And so are you. I hope you will remember that today.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When was the last time you felt truly chosen or seen? How did that change the way you showed up?
  • John 15:16 says God chose you with purpose. Where might He be inviting you to bear fruit right now — in your family, workplace, or community?
  • How does remembering that you are “hand-picked” challenge the doubts or insecurities you carry?
  • What gifts or callings has God placed in your life that are meant to last beyond this season?
  • How might believing you are chosen affect the way you treat others today?
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A Moment of Peace This Christmas

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Matthew 11:28-30 — Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.

Every year, I start the Christmas season with good intentions.

This year will be different.
I will not run myself ragged.

But somehow, every year I do the same thing. One minute I am sipping coffee on a quiet November morning, and the next I’m neck-deep in Christmas programs, gift shopping, work events, and family traditions.

They’re all things I genuinely love—things I wouldn’t trade for the world.
But even good things can leave you feeling stretched thin and anxious.

One evening, after three meetings and a grocery run, I came home feeling the weight of it all. After putting my daughter to bed and turning down the lights, I put on a worship song and stared at the tree.

It was there that I took the first real breath I had breathed in a week.

Somewhere in that quiet, my mind began to wander back to a dusty stable. There, a tired, young woman had just brought a child into the world. She had no midwife or epidural. She didn’t even have her own bed. A steady man stood beside her, doing his best to protect what he could not possibly understand.

I pictured Mary holding the baby the world had been aching for. Her heart must have been pounding with wonder and fear at the same time.

Something in me shifted.

The rush, the lists, the pressure—they all felt smaller. Somehow, in view of that tiny child’s life, I could breathe again.

And right there in my dim living room, Jesus’ invitation rose softly in my heart:

“Come to me, all of you who are weary
…and I will give you rest.”

That’s what Mary found in that stable—not ease, not simplicity, but the presence of the One who brings rest.
And that’s what I found again as I sat by the tree.

My inbox was still full.
The casserole still needed a dish.
Nothing in my circumstances had changed.

But I had.

Because remembering the One who came gentle and lowly—the One who still calls us to come and rest—lifted the weight from my shoulders.

And I can’t help but wonder: if simply remembering that first quiet night can steady me, could it steady someone else too?

So this year, I’m offering you the same invitation Jesus offers us all: Pause long enough to remember that holy night. Hold its peace close. Let it carry you through the rush. Even your busiest moments can reflect the hope that first arrived in a manger.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where in your life are you feeling the weight of “good things” that have become overwhelming?
  • What would it look like for you to take Jesus at His word when He says, “Come to Me… and I will give you rest”?
  • How can you carve out a small, quiet moment this week to breathe and remember the manger?
  • What burden are you trying to carry alone that Jesus is inviting you to release?
  • How might your perspective shift if you believed rest is something Jesus gives, not something you earn?
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How Two Wheels Touched Two Families

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Proverbs 11:25 — A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.

My dad has this cool story. One December, while he was on patrol, a call came in about a stolen bike. When he arrived, the little boy stood beside a patch of flattened grass where his bike used to be.

The boy was calm, but my dad could see the disappointment in his eyes.

What he later found out was that the boys family had no money to replace the bicycle. They were just trying to make it through the holiday season, the same as most people. He drove away feeling the weight of it.

That evening, on his way home, he called Mom. I can picture her leaning against the kitchen counter, listening quietly while he told her about the boy. Money was already tight for them too.

But she agreed. They could do without a few comforts this year to help that boy. They bought the boy a new bike—bright, simple. It was the kind any kid would be proud of.

They delivered it a few days later, and Dad said the boy’s whole face lit up.

A few weeks later, a letter from the state showed up. Dad opened it at the kitchen table, probably expecting some form he needed to sign. Instead, he found a tax refund they had not known about. The amount inside nearly matched the cost of the bike.

He held it for a long moment, then handed it to Mom. They laughed together, astonished. It was impossible not to feel that God had met them in that small act of generosity.

It reminded me of Proverbs 11:25: “The generous will prosper; those who refresh others will themselves be refreshed.” My parents had stepped into someone else’s need, and in turn, they had been met in their own.

That story stays with me because it reminds me to pay attention to the needs around me. Even a small act—helping a neighbor, giving a gift, offering encouragement—can become someone else’s Christmas miracle. And sometimes, the blessing comes full circle, lifting our own hearts along the way.

So, who might God be calling you to bless this season?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When was the last time you noticed someone’s need—and did you act on it or walk away?
  • What comforts or conveniences might you be willing to sacrifice to bless someone else this season?
  • Have you ever experienced God meeting you in the midst of your generosity? What did that teach you about His character?
  • Who in your life right now might be quietly carrying disappointment or lack—someone God is nudging you to see?
  • How might your simple, ordinary kindness become someone else’s Christmas miracle?
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Thankful for the Long Road

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Psalms 139:5-6 — You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!

The road out of town stretches ahead, lined with pines that never seem to end.

My husband drives steady. One hand rests on the wheel, the other taps to a song playing on the radio. I glance back at our baby girl, sound asleep in her car seat. We’re headed to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving lunch.

It’s not a long drive—forty-five minutes or so. But as the miles wind on, my thoughts take an unexpected detour down memory lane.

Growing up in a blended family, this was all I knew—lunch at one house, supper at another, pie somewhere in between. There was always a plan scribbled on the back of an envelope, and by the end of the day, I felt like I’d run a marathon fueled by turkey and dressing.

It started in Monroe, wound through Crowville, looped back through Calhoun, and somehow we’d make it home before bedtime.

It used to wear me out. But now? It just makes me grateful.

The trees flash by—gold, red, fading green. Somewhere, a cousin is smoking a turkey. Somewhere else, a table is being set by grandparents with plastic plates and old stories. I can almost smell the ham roasting in the oven, the sweet potatoes bubbling under toasted marshmallows, and the sound of laughter spilling through screen doors.

Back then, I never stopped long enough to see it. I only saw the hurry. But now, I see the love underneath the rush. Parents, step-parents, and kin just wanted us close. They opened their doors even when we could only stay a little while.

They still do.

No pressure. No guilt. Just warmth.

Though we’re pulled in a million directions, they make room in their hearts for our crazy schedule—because they understand.

I smile, watching the road twist ahead of us. This long, winding road called life is filled with people God has placed along the way—people to love, and who love us back in their own imperfect, beautiful ways. It hits me how blessed I am.

And maybe that’s what gratitude really is—seeing the fingerprints of God in the middle of our everyday miles. Just like the psalmist tells us, God places His hand of blessing all along our lives. He goes before us and follows behind. It is too wonderful and too great to even understand. (Psalm 139:5–6)

So, wherever the road takes you this Thanksgiving—whether it’s across town or just across the table—I want to encourage you to do one thing today. Try to notice the many blessings along the way.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • How have you noticed God’s hand guiding or blessing you in the everyday moments of life?
  • Are there relationships or small acts of love around you that reveal God’s presence?
  • How might practicing gratitude for the ordinary moments change your perspective today?
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