Love In the Breakroom

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Luke 6:27-28 — But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.

It started with a phone call. My sister’s voice cracked as she said, “I think my coworker just doesn’t like me.”

She’d only been at this new job a few weeks, and she was doing everything she could to make a good impression. But something was off.

So, she kept her head down, focused on her computer, and tried to stay out of the way. Still, she could feel the tension every time she walked into the room.

She’d come home tight and quiet, replaying conversations in her head, wondering what she had done wrong.

That night on the phone, I just listened. She didn’t need advice as much as she needed a safe place to land. And somewhere between her tears and my silence, a verse came to mind—the one about loving your enemies, doing good to those who treat you poorly, and praying for them.

That night on the phone, I just listened. She didn’t need advice as much as she needed a safe place to land. And somewhere between her tears and my silence, a verse came to mind—Jesus’ words in Luke 6:27–28:

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.”

I hesitated to say it out loud, but before I could finish, she nodded.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “That’s what God’s been saying to my heart too.”

So we prayed. We asked God for peace, for wisdom, and maybe even for a small miracle in the breakroom.

The next week, she decided to live it out. She prayed for her coworker every morning before clocking in. She greeted her with kindness, even when it wasn’t returned. She offered help without being asked.

And while nothing about her coworker seemed to change, something in her did. The stress in her voice disappeared. The tension in her shoulders eased. She was lighter, freer—like she’d been unburdened.

Looking back, that coworker may or may not have had a grudge, but my sister definitely felt the “not-love” in the air. Still, God kept showing her: love your enemies, even when you don’t know where they stand.

And that’s what’s powerful about her choice. Because when we choose to love anyway—even when it costs us comfort or pride—we get to take part in the healing God is already doing in the world.

Who knows? Maybe the hardest person to love today is exactly the one who needs it most.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Who is the “difficult person” in your life right now, and what small step of love or kindness could you offer them today?
  • How have you seen God transform your own heart when you chose to love someone who was hard to love?
  • What might you need to release—pride, fear, assumptions—in order to pray sincerely for someone who has hurt you?
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Lessons From the Grocery Store

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1 Corinthians 15:10 — But whatever I am now, it is all because God poured out His special favor on me — and not without results. For I have worked harder than any of the other apostles; yet it was not I but God who was working through me by His grace.

The smell of warm bread and cleaning supplies still takes me back. Not to a bakery or my grandmother’s kitchen, but to the grocery store where I had my first job.

I was sixteen, awkward, and half-asleep most mornings. It wasn’t glamorous work. I stocked shelves, bagged groceries, and spent more time wrestling shopping carts than I care to admit.

I remember thinking, “This is just a paycheck.” But over time, that little grocery store became something else entirely.

There was the older cashier, who called everyone “Honey” and could calm the crankiest customer with a wink. There was also the manager who never raised his voice but somehow made you want to do better. And there were the regulars — the ones who showed up every Thursday for bread and milk, or just to talk to someone who’d listen.

I started to notice things I’d never paid attention to before. The tired dad who worked night shifts still finding a smile for his kids. The widow who counted out change in nickels and dimes but left the last cookie sample for someone else.

That store taught me more than I ever imagined. About patience. About showing up when I didn’t feel like it. About giving my best, even when nobody noticed.

It reminds me of what Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 15:10: “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain.” I can see now that every small task, every moment of showing up, was God’s grace quietly shaping me from the inside out.

Funny thing — I thought I was earning money, but I was really learning character. The kind that gets built one small choice at a time, in ordinary places with sticky floors and fluorescent lights.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s where God does His best work — right there in the middle of the everyday, quietly shaping us while we think we’re just bagging groceries.

Maybe the same is true for you. Maybe the thing that feels small or unseen is the very thing God is using to grow you. The ordinary work. The thankless task. The daily faithfulness that nobody applauds. He is in all of it—teaching, refining, and shaping you in ways that only become clear later.

So wherever you find yourself today—keep showing up. Keep doing the next right thing. Because even in the most ordinary corners of life, God is writing something extraordinary.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Think back to your first job or a season that felt ordinary. How did God use that time to shape your character?
  • How does it change your perspective to realize that grace can be at work in small, everyday moments—not just big, spiritual ones?
  • What part of your daily routine might God be using to teach you patience, humility, or compassion?
  • Paul said God’s grace toward him “was not in vain.” How can you live today in a way that lets His grace bear fruit in you?
  • What’s one “ordinary” task this week you can approach as worship—doing it with gratitude, knowing God is in it?
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Seeing God in Closed Doors

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Proverbs 16:9 – The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.

I thought I knew exactly what God wanted me to do. Bible school—it made perfect sense. I had the passion, the calling, the dream.

I could already see myself there sitting in class, buried in Scripture, and surrounded by people who wanted to serve God too. It felt so right.

So I chased it. I filled out the forms, picked up extra shifts, and prayed the kind of bold prayers that come trembling out of the heart, and for a while, everything seemed to be falling into place.

Until it wasn’t.

One thing after another began to unravel. A door closed. Then another. And another. The dream that once felt close enough to touch now seemed a thousand miles away.

I told myself it was just a delay, not a denial. But deep down, I was frustrated. I’d done everything “right,” and it still fell apart. People would say things like, “It must not be God’s timing.” I knew they meant well, but it didn’t help much.

One night, I sat on the front steps in the quiet, staring at the streetlights, just trying to make sense of it all. I had no words left to pray. My heart ached from wanting something so good so badly.

And then, somewhere in that stillness, a thought came that changed everything.

Maybe God wasn’t holding back or punishing me.

Maybe He was protecting me.

Maybe what felt like the end of a dream was really the beginning of trust.

It took time for that truth to sink in. But when it did, I began to see how those closed doors were good. God wasn’t ignoring me. He was redirecting me toward something better than I had planned.

And truth be told, nearly a decade later, God did open the door for me to attend Bible school at just the right time.

Something I have learned through all of this is that surrender isn’t giving up. It’s simply making room.

That’s why I really love what the book of Proverbs teaches. “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”

And maybe that’s what faith really looks like—not clinging to what we think should happen, but trusting that even our disappointments are being folded into something good.

If you find yourself staring at a door that won’t open, too, take heart. The God who closed it hasn’t gone anywhere. He still writes better stories than we do, and sometimes the best ones begin with a “not now.”

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Think of a time when your plans didn’t go the way you hoped. Looking back, can you see how God might have been protecting or redirecting you?
  • Proverbs 16:9 reminds us that while we make our plans, it’s the Lord who establishes our steps. What steps are you trying to control right now that you might need to release to Him?
  • “Surrender isn’t giving up—it’s making room.” What would it look like for you to make more room for God’s direction in your daily decisions?
  • When disappointment hits, what helps you remember that God’s “not now” doesn’t mean “never”?
  • Is there a door in your life that’s currently closed? What might it look like to trust that God still has His hand on the handle?
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The Freedom of Saying No

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Galatians 1:10 –Obviously, I’m not trying to win the approval of people, but of God. If pleasing people were my goal, I would not be Christ’s servant. 

There I was again, sitting at my desk, pretending not to feel overwhelmed. I had said yes to another favor I didn’t have time for, and now I was knee-deep in a project that had nothing to do with me.

My own work sat untouched, the clock kept marching, and I was secretly furious with myself for falling into the same trap yet again.

I grew up thinking if I could just stay on everyone’s good side, life would go smoother. And maybe for a while it did. Smiles all around, no ruffled feathers. But somewhere in the middle, I started to realize I wasn’t living to please the Lord at all. I was just pleasing people.

The truth is, I was worn out. There would always be one more expectation to meet and one more approval to earn. And the more I did this, the more I knew how empty it was.

That day, with my inbox overflowing and my own work untouched, something in me snapped. I pushed my chair back, closed my eyes for a moment, and asked God for the courage to stop people pleasing.

And then I did something small, but it felt huge. I told someone “no.”

I said it kindly and gently, but it was firm. And then I went back to the work God had actually given me.

It’s not like my life changed overnight. But step by step, I started making choices that honored Him instead of everyone else’s opinions. Saying “yes” when it was right and “no” when it was wise. I learned to live with the fact that not everyone would understand, and that’s okay.

Paul said it this way in Galatians 1:10:

“Am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God?… If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.”

And let me tell you, the peace that comes with that far outweighs the false comfort of keeping everyone happy.

So now when I walk through those office doors, I can carry myself differently. Not because I’m perfect, but because I’m finally learning to live for God, not man.

Because if they never gave me life, why should they be the ones I live for?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • In what areas of your life do you feel pressured to please others more than God?
  • How does Galatians 1:10 challenge your perspective on approval and purpose?
  • What’s one boundary you could set this week that helps you honor God first?
  • How can you practice saying “yes” to what God is calling you to—and “no” to what He isn’t?
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It’s The Little Things

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Song of Solomon 2:15 — Catch all the foxes, those little foxes, before they ruin the vineyard of love, for the grapevines are blossoming!

I was already late when I slid behind the wheel.

That morning, I had darted out the door half-awake, coffee in one hand and backpack swinging from the other. By the time I jammed the key into the ignition, my 8 a.m. class had already started.

As I pulled onto campus, the road narrowed with trash cans lined neatly along the curb. I barely noticed them, too locked into tunnel vision.

I swerved just slightly, confident there was plenty of room. But then—

Thud.

My stomach dropped. The trash cans stood perfectly in place when I checked the mirror, like an audience untouched by my blunder. But then I saw it—the side mirror dangling, wires exposed, helplessly smacking against the car.

For a long second, I just stared in disbelief. It was almost laughable. In my rush to save a few seconds, I’d made a much bigger mess.

That experience felt like a kind reminder from God that life works the same way. It’s not always the big obstacles that trip us up. More often, it’s the little things we dismiss— the conversations we push off, the corners we cut, the sinful habits we shrug away.

“Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards…” — Song of Solomon 2:15

The truth is, those “little foxes” can quietly chip away at what God is growing in us. They pile up like those cans on the curb. And if we’re not paying attention, sooner or later, one of them will knock the mirror clean off.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What are some “little foxes” in your life—small habits or compromises—that could cause bigger damage if ignored?
  • How can you invite God to help you notice and deal with those small things before they grow?
  • What practical step can you take this week to slow down and pay attention to what’s really going on in your heart?
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Hope For Troubled Minds

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Romans 8:6 – For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.

Grace used to think she was the problem.

Not in the playful, “bless her heart” kind of way, but in the way that convinces you the world might be better off without you in it.

She was a teenager then, carrying the heavy weight of PTSD, each thread stitched tight from years of relentless bullying. It clung to her like a damp coat she couldn’t shrug off. The days felt dark, but the nights—those were worse. Silence has a way of amplifying the cruelest thoughts, and hers were growing sharper by the day.

One night, she decided she was done. Not angry. Not tearful. Just done.

And that is when the music came.

It was a Christian song—not one she sought out, and she could never quite explain how it reached her. But it did. It didn’t fix everything in a neat, storybook ending. But it stopped her freefall for one fragile moment. Long enough for her lungs to fill with hope.

She listened until the song finished. Then she played it again. And again. Over the next several months, peace began to wash over her, and she felt the love of Jesus like never had before.

But she still struggled. So she found a really good counselor, and through their sessions, she slowly and deliberately chose to live again.

Now, when Grace shares her story, she isn’t afraid to tell the whole truth. God saved her—but it’s okay to talk about the journey, messy parts included. Faith and mental health, she discovered, are not enemies.

“For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.” — Romans 8:6

Jesus loves the whole person. Sometimes He arrives in a song. Sometimes He shows up in a kind word from a counselor. And sometimes, He simply gives you the strength to take the next step.

Now Grace writes songs of her own. She hopes to share them with other students just like her, sitting in the dark thinking the end is the only option.

Because she knows with confidence that God is not afraid of tangled minds.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When have you felt like life’s pain or darkness was too heavy to carry? Where did you see God show up for you in that season?
  • Romans 8:6 speaks of “life and peace” when we set our minds on the Spirit. What practices help you fix your thoughts on God’s Spirit when your mind feels overwhelmed?
  • How might God be calling you to be a lifeline—through music, words, or presence—for someone who feels unseen or hopeless today?
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The Gift of the Right Now

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Philippians 4:4 — Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.

Nobody warns you how quickly “someday” gets here.

Almost two years ago, I held my daughter in my arms for the first time. She was small and wrinkled and amazing. I thought to myself that nothing would ever be the same again.

And I was so right. In those first months, life revolved around tiny bottles, burp cloths, and long nights where sleep was only a distant memory.

Now, she is a toddler with a laugh that fills our house like sunlight. She runs through the living room with hair wild from nap time, climbs on chairs she shouldn’t, and points her little finger at the world like she’s naming it for the first time.

Every day, she learns something new. And every day, I feel the ache of time moving faster than I’d like. Sometimes, I catch myself scrolling back through old photos on my phone of her newborn baby phase, missing it.

The future, too, tries to pull at me—questions about school, friends, and who she’ll become. Those worries can swallow me if I’m not careful.

And in whether I’m looking ahead or looking in the rearview, I find myself missing the moment right in front of me. But I remind myself that God doesn’t ask me to relive the past or predict the future. He simply asks me to take joy in Him. To trust him and to be here. Right now.

“Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before Him, He endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” — Hebrews 12:2

And so, today, I scoop my daughter up, even when she’s wiggly and squirming, and I let myself enjoy the weight of her in my arms. Because one day, I’ll miss the way her head fits against my shoulder.

Because the truth is, one day, you will look back and miss the gifts God has given you right now. And wouldn’t it be a shame to miss it?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What moments in your life right now might you be rushing past instead of resting in?
  • How can fixing your eyes on Jesus help you stay present and grateful in today’s season?
  • What’s one simple way you can pause today to notice the gift of right now?
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My Pastor, My Story

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1 Corinthians 11:1 – “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.”

I was flipping through my wedding registry album when I had to stop and smile. My thumb traced a familiar signature, and memories came rushing back.

Suddenly, I was fourteen again, sitting in a metal chair at youth group, nervous and unsure, my sister beside me. He and his wife, Ashley, made us feel welcome, like we belonged before we even knew how. That was when Jonathan Barbo became my pastor.

I can still see the grin on Barbo’s face when I was accepted to college, as if I had won a gold medal. Later, when I returned to serve in youth ministry, I witnessed firsthand the time and energy he and his wife poured into students’ lives.

Through camps, lock-ins, and late nights filled with laughter and scripture, He just showed up and cared. That presence left a mark on me that I still carry.

The hardest memory is when my mom passed away too soon. And there they were again, Barbo and Ashley, standing with me in the hospital, carrying some of the weight I could not carry on my own.

Years later, he showed up in a new way—as my CrossFit instructor. Those workouts were brutal, but even then, he kept teaching me lessons about resilience that stretched beyond the gym.

Back in the present, I traced his name in the registry again, remembering him at the front of the church on my wedding day. He officiated the ceremony. Who else could have filled that role?

Barbo had been my pastor. He was there in the mess, in the victories, in the losses, and everyday in between.

Looking back, I realize what his example taught me: life is not about grand gestures. It is about walking with people. It requires time, energy, and sometimes sacrifice. And yet, it leaves a mark that does not fade.

Paul once told others to follow him because he followed Christ. I see that now. Barbo’s name is in that album because he chose to follow Jesus, and that made all the difference in my life.

Maybe that is the quiet question worth asking today: whose life are you walking alongside? And whose album might someday carry your name, remembered with a smile because you showed up?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Who has walked with you through life in a way that pointed you closer to Jesus?
  • How has their example shaped the way you live out your faith?
  • Whose life might you be called to walk alongside right now?
  • What small, consistent ways could you show up for someone this week—just as others have shown up for you?
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Love Without Fixing It

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James 1:19 — Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters; You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry.

It started like any other coffee date—two friends meeting in the middle of a busy week.

We ordered and found a small table by the window. The late-afternoon light stretched long across the floor. I noticed a sad look in her eyes, as she held her mug with both hands. It was like she was trying to keep from coming apart.

We eased into the conversation with safe topics, but it didn’t last. She confessed the load she had been carrying, the sleepless nights, and the ache of not knowing what to do next.

I could feel my instincts firing. How do I fix this? What should I suggest? Who could I get her to call. My brain had already sketched a plan before she’d even finished talking.

That’s my reflex. I come ready with solutions. It feels like love to hand someone a map, to draw a line from here to there, to make things better. But something in me—something quieter than all my ideas—said, “Don’t fix this. Just be here for her.”

So, I leaned in and listened. Really listened. Not waiting for my turn to speak, not waiting for an opening to drop a piece of wisdom, but staying present as she shared her story.

She talked about the ache she carried and the decisions she wasn’t ready to make. She didn’t sugarcoat anything. I didn’t either. I just asked questions and let her answer however she needed.

Somewhere between sips of coffee and pauses in her sentences, her shoulders softened. She was still carrying the same weight, but it wasn’t pressing her down as much. She even laughed once.

When it was time to leave, I still had all my “solutions” tucked away, unused. And yet, I think she walked out lighter.

I used to think love meant having all the right answers. But I realized that God really doesn’t require us to.

So that’s what I want to encourage you with today as you interact with others. Most of the time, the kind of love God is really looking for is just knowing how to be a friend.

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God’s Goodness All Around

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John 15:11 — I have told you these things so that you will be filled with my joy. Yes, your joy will overflow!

When I turned eight, my mom hosted a sleepover that, to my little heart, felt like the event of the year.

We didn’t have decorations or matching pajamas or a color-coded plan. What we had was a popcorn bowl the size of a sink and sleeping bags piled so high you couldn’t even see the carpet.

We stayed up way too late giggling and ate mountains of popcorn. Someone tried to braid hair. Someone else turned a flashlight into a spotlight and declared it was time for a talent show—one that ended in thunderous applause and absolutely zero talent.

I laughed so hard my face hurt.

And my mom? She stayed in the background, quietly watching like we were her favorite show… one she already knew by heart but still wanted to rewatch.

She kept the popcorn coming, refolded blankets we knocked over, and never once told us to quiet down. Not even when we absolutely should have. She just wanted us to enjoy it.

It’s one of my favorite memories. Not because it was extravagant, but because it wasn’t. It was simple and full. Joyful and messy. It’s the kind of memory that sinks deep into your bones and keeps resurfacing when you need it most.

Back then, I didn’t have the words for it. But I see it clearly now: my mom wasn’t just throwing a party. She was giving us a place to belong. A space to be kids.

Looking back, I think God does that too.

He shows up in rooms we almost overlook, in laughter that bubbles up unexpectedly, and in the people who keep refilling our bowls, folding our blankets, and loving us without making a fuss.

So, if He has felt far away lately, do not wait for it to look like something grand. It might already be here.

You can see His goodness all around. It is there in the presence of someone who loves you, the noise of good company, or the touch of sticky hands passing a bowl of popcorn.

God’s goodness is not distant. He is near.

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