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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Spark the Change, Sister

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Luke 6:38 — “Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.”

It was day one of the Live Original Conference. The covered plaza outside the Monroe civic center buzzed with the sound of women gathering, all coming to experience Jesus.

Knowing it would be a long day, I jumped into the concessions line to grab a drink. A few feet away, I spotted my friend Jade, and we started catching up.

The line moved slowly, but the conference was about to begin. When we finally reached the counter, the cashier told Jade they did not take Apple Pay. Her face fell. To get her drink, she would have to leave the line, find her debit card, and likely miss part of the opening event.

So I said, pulling out my card, “Don’t worry about it.”

She tried to say she would pay me back, but something inside nudged me to just help her—no strings attached.

I shook my head. “No, really. It’s on me.”

The next day, I found myself circling the merch booth, eyeing a hat I liked. I picked it up five times, then set it down again. Then I ran into Jade—already wearing that same hat.

I told her how much I liked it, and she smiled. “Do you want one?” she asked. Apparently, someone had gifted hers, and she wanted to do the same for me.

As I held that hat, I thought back to the concession line. It felt like a full circle moment.

No one planned it. No one kept score. But somehow, the kindness I gave away found its way back. That is the power of generosity—it does not stay in one place. It travels. It multiplies.

And it is never wasted. Sometimes the smallest spark can light up a whole community. God can use one act of generosity to cause a domino effect that shows back up when you least expect it.

This is the best part. You do not have to plan it. Someone just has to start it.

So why not you?

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When Plans Fall Apart

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

Have you ever planned something so perfectly, only to have it fall apart when you least expect it? Unfortunately, last summer, this happened to my family.

David and I took a trip to Houston with my parents and six-month-old daughter for a church conference. Weeks before, I meticulously searched listings to find the perfect Airbnb for our stay. I looked at everything: prices, number of rooms, amenities. After comparing each home, I knew I had found the one.

The reviews were great, and the pictures looked so cute on the listing. I booked the place, and a few weeks later, we were on our way.

But when we opened the door, my stomach dropped. The smell hit me first. There was a thick, smoky haze that didn’t belong anywhere near a baby. The light overhead eerily flicked on and off, and I knew immediately this was not the safe, welcoming space we needed.

Disappointment washed over me. All my planning—wasted. I stood there, trying to breathe through the letdown, when my dad stepped in with a solution. Within an hour, he had us checked into a hotel that smelled like fresh towels and hand soap.

That night, as I watched our daughter sleep in her travel crib, I thought about how life doesn’t always follow my script. I can plan and plan, but sometimes things fall apart anyway. And yet, God shows up in the middle of it all—like a dad with a phone and a calm voice—pointing us toward a better place.

So, the next time life takes an unexpected turn, pause for a moment, look around, and trust that even the detour has purpose. Even if the destination is not the place you picked, trust Him. He will lead you to where you need to be.

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Giving From What You’ve Received

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Hebrews 13:16 – “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.”

Rhonda poured coffee into her favorite mug. The radio hummed softly in the background, like a friend who knew too much but didn’t judge.

For twenty years, Christian radio had been there. Even in the mornings when the dishes were piled high, and when her children squabbled over cereal bowls. Even during her divorce, when everything she’d relied on felt like it was made of paper and could tear at any moment.

She had to pause her monthly giving back then. It hurt more than she expected. Not because the money was gone, but because that act of giving had been a rhythm that told her she was still a person who could extend kindness into the world.

But she never turned the station off. The songs still poured over her, spilling over laundry piles and homework papers. They reminded her of promises she had almost forgotten existed—things like God’s nearness, God’s faithfulness, and God’s care.

Years later, life had shifted in ways that were subtle and miraculous all at once. Bills balanced themselves more easily. Mornings felt lighter. Her heart no longer clenched at the sound of the phone ringing.

She could give again, and more than she ever had before. And as she clicked “submit” on her monthly donation, she realized it wasn’t about the money at all. It was about gratitude. It was about honoring the lifeline that had held her steady when she felt untethered.

The songs hadn’t just played. They had whispered that she could endure. That peace was possible. That even when life felt like it might unravel, God used her radio to help carry her all along.

And maybe that’s the thing: when something has carried you through the hard parts, it’s worth passing it on. Whether it’s a song, a word of encouragement, or a small act of generosity, there’s power in saying, “I remember how this felt, and I want someone else to know they can make it too.”

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From Frozen to Fearless

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Deuteronomy 31:6 — “Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you.”

In elementary school, we held elections where students in the upper grades could run for class positions—president, treasurer, and the like. I was painfully shy, but for some reason, I wanted to be part of it.

I do not remember where the courage came from. I just remember wanting to try. I made a “Vote for Sarah” shirt. I wrote a speech. I practiced it until it felt natural. There was a spark in me—something new. A sense that I had something to say.

When my name was called, I walked to the front of the room and stood at the podium. I looked out at my classmates, took a deep breath, and froze.

My mind went blank. A few jumbled words came out as I turned red with embarrassment.

I felt like I had let myself down in front of everyone.

I carried that moment with me for years. I did not raise my hand in class. I avoided being called on. I assumed I was not meant to speak in front of people.

Then, years later, I sensed God asking me to share my story—the one where I met Jesus. With everything in me, I wanted to make Jesus more famous by sharing how he had saved me, but all I could think about was what might happen if I froze again.

But God kept gently reminding me that His Spirit is not limited by my strengths and weaknesses. If He was calling me, He would give me what I needed.

So, I said yes.

The nerves were still there. but something greater settled in. As I spoke, the fear shrank. Not because I had gotten stronger, but because I was no longer speaking alone.

Afterwards people came and told me how much they related to my story. I stood there, stunned by what God had done through me. Shy Sarah. This was never about how confident I was. It was about what God could do when I chose to be obedient.

So, if you are standing in front of something that makes you afraid but you know God is asking you to do it—say yes anyway. You never know how many people are waiting on the other side of your obedience.

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Friendship That Brews Hope

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Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 – “Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow.”

I was already halfway to the coffee shop before I realized how heavy my chest felt. It was the kind of heaviness that builds slowly and steadily over time.

But today I had a lifeline. I had a standing coffee date with a friend who knew me—the real me. We always meet in the same spot, bring our kids, and talk for hours.

I parked, lifted Reese from the back seat, and turned to see my friend walking up with her baby in a carrier and a warm smile instantly softening something in me.

We ordered our lattes—mine, honey vanilla over ice—and by some small miracle, our couch was free. The babies wriggled across our laps and played on the rug below.

Between sips of coffee and the comfort of low music playing louder than our voices, I let it all pour out. I told her about the discouragement, the pressure, and my insecurities. And she just listened, really listened.

She didn’t try to fix it, but instead she opened up about her own battles and hard-won victories. She reminded me who God is and what His word said about my circumstances.

Then she asked if she could pray for me.

Tears came quicker than I expected, but I nodded. Of course. Yes. Please. And as she prayed, something loosened inside me. Peace settled in like cool water sinking deep into dry ground.

I stayed quiet for a moment after she prayed, just letting it settle.

Nothing outside had changed, but something inside had. My shoulders softened. The ache in my chest gave way to peace I had not felt in weeks. God was near, and I knew it.

That day, I remembered what I had forgotten: God never intended for us to walk through life alone. He gives us people who carry us to Him when we are too weary to crawl.

So, find those people. When you do, hold onto them because sometimes, the most powerful thing God gives us is not an answer. It’s a friend who prays.

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Peace Starts With Perspective

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Psalms 107:1 — “Oh give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever!”

The AC gave out in the middle of a Louisiana summer afternoon, which is just about the worst timing possible. I was in our bedroom, stuffing pajamas into a suitcase and trying not to lose my cool, emotionally and physically.

We were packing up to stay at my husband’s parents’ house for a few days. While our house was basically a sauna, theirs at least had working air.

I was grumbling under my breath as I packed. This was not just about busted AC. I was tired of things not going smoothly and the endless to-do lists that never shrunk. I was frustrated from feeling stuck in places I thought I would have outgrown by now.

It was like the broken AC had cracked open a door I had been trying to hold shut.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, suitcase half-zipped, and started praying. It was not the sweet kind of prayers. No, it was an honest, messy pouring out of everything I was carrying. I told God how tired I was, how heavy it all felt.

In the quiet that followed, I felt Him meet me there, not with shame but with clarity. He helped me notice what I had missed in my storm of frustration: my complaining was not changing anything, but it was changing me.

I realized my peace was slipping through my fingers, and in its place, distress was robbing me of joy. In that moment I remembered: my family was safe, we were loved, and we had extended family willing to opening their home to us. Oh, the heat was real, but so was the goodness I had been missing in my spiral.

I could keep circling that same drain of frustration, or I could climb out (slowly, but intentionally) by choosing gratitude.

So, I took a breath, counted ten, and started counting the good. Not out loud, just in my heart. And I could feel it already—something in me softening.

Friends, gratitude may not fix your circumstance, but it reshapes the soul. It steadies you, lifts you head, and clears the fog. So, if you are feeling stuck in what is not right, maybe what you need is not a change in situation, but a change in perspective.

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Living Unapologetically Free

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John 8:36 — “So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”

“Free indeed.”

That’s what Jesus promised me, and for a long time, I didn’t believe it.

Counseling gave me some tools to navigate the mess inside, sort through years of self-doubt, and even breathe a little deeper. But sitting quietly before the Lord one morning—Bible open, heart laid bare—I felt something shift.

This wasn’t just healing. This was freedom, and it came when God whispered truth into a part of my heart I always kept covered up.

I can still see that day in my mind. I was just a kid, all bright eyes with laughter bubbling up with every breath. My heart was open to the world. I thought that was a good thing.

Then someone I respected—someone whose opinion mattered—made a joke: “No one takes you seriously.”

It was a throwaway comment, but it hurt. I laughed about it to soften the blow, but the seed took root. From then on, a quiet voice tagged along wherever I went. It whispered to me in job interviews, on ministry teams, every time I was called to lead.

“No one takes you seriously. You’re silly. Immature. Forgettable.”

But that morning—just me and Jesus—I finally listened to someone who actually knew me, and His words spoke louder than the lie.

God’s voice didn’t shame me. It called me: “Capable. Wise. Joyful. Delightful. Chosen. Mine.”

Sure, I had some growing up to do. Who doesn’t? But I’m done apologizing for being the person God made me to be. That is exactly the woman He wants to use. I don’t have to hide or wear a mask. I can be smart and still crack a joke. I can lead boldy and laugh.

Because Jesus didn’t just save me. He set me free.

If you’re living under someone else’s label, ask God who He says you are. Because the truth? It’s His words that matter, and His words set us free to be exactly who He made us to be—no masks, no shame. Just freedom.

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The Gift of Being Different

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Deuteronomy 14:2 — “You have been set apart as holy to the Lord your God, and he has chosen you from all the nations of the earth to be his own special treasure.”

Growing up, I always knew I was different.

From family to classmates at school, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I just didn’t fit in. It felt like everyone else had some critical ingredient I was missing. Kids my age raised their hands, answered questions, laughed out loud like they belonged there.

For the longest time, I thought something was wrong with me. I was timid, more introverted, and often wondered if anyone even noticed me. That feeling of invisibility started to shape how I saw myself. I developed low self-esteem and bent over backward trying to please people.

But one day, one of those classmates invited me to go to church with her. I didn’t have a good reason to say no, so I went, nervous and unsure. That’s where I first heard about Jesus—how He came for people like me. The misfits, the quiet ones, and the ones who don’t know where they belong.

He came for me, and He loved me enough to give His life for me.

That felt like sunlight cracking through a storm cloud. For the first time, I felt truly seen and known.

But I wish I could say the insecurities vanished overnight. They didn’t. I carried them into high school, college, and early adulthood.

Then one Sunday, a pastor said something that caught me off guard. He said, “You are different.” My heart sank, but he went on: “God made you that way—on purpose, for a purpose.”

I sat up straighter. For the first time, I thought: maybe I wasn’t defective after all. Maybe I was designed by a loving God who had a plan for my life—and maybe my differences were actually gifts.

Later, I found it in Scripture—Deuteronomy 14:2. God sets us apart, chooses us, and calls us His special treasure. That’s not just poetic. That’s personal.

That’s when I started to see it and embrace it. I was handpicked by God, different, and made with a purpose only I could fulfill.

And maybe you need that reminder, too. Maybe you’ve spent too long thinking your differences disqualify you. But the truth is: God doesn’t make mistakes. He made you different on purpose, for a purpose—so you could bring something only you can bring to His family.

Don’t let the world’s lies define you. Let Jesus reintroduce you to the you He made—a masterpiece, a treasure. The real, set-apart you.

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