Jude 1:20-21 — But you, dear friends, must build each other up in your most holy faith, pray in the power of the Holy Spirit, and await the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will bring you eternal life. In this way, you will keep yourselves safe in God’s love.

I recently lost a friend and realized I had not spent nearly enough time with her. I was always so busy.

Busy answering emails. Busy meeting deadlines. Busy doing things that, at the time, felt urgent and important. I kept telling myself there would be more time. Next week. Next month. After things slow down.

But things didn’t slow down.

And now she’s gone.

That old phrase keeps echoing: “Never get so busy making a living that you forget to make a life.” I used to nod in agreement, but now it feels personal.

Because we do this, don’t we? We fill our calendars with productive things. We chase goals, pay bills, build brands, and answer texts. And somewhere along the way, relationships get squeezed into the leftovers.

Both time with people and time with Jesus.

When I read the Gospels, I don’t see Jesus guarding His schedule. I see Him on dusty roads with people. Letting interruptions become ministry. He didn’t just build a movement. He built relationships.

And for me, grief has a way of clearing the fog. It reminded me that my soul doesn’t thrive on productivity. It thrives on being present.

So, I’ve started asking different questions. Who needs my time this week? Where can I slow down? Where is there space for prayer, for encouragement, for sacrificial love?

Because if we don’t choose what matters most, the urgent will always win.

Maybe today is a good day to leave one square on the calendar unclaimed. To sit with someone a little longer or to pray without watching the clock. Because the people we love—and the God who loves us—are not interruptions to our work.

They are the work.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where in your life have “urgent” things crowded out what actually matters most?
  • Who is one person you can intentionally invest time in this week?
  • How can you create space in your schedule to both encourage others and spend time with God?
  • What would it look like for you to “build someone up” in a practical way today?
  • Is there an area where you’ve been assuming “there will be more time”? How is God inviting you to respond now?

Psalm 28:7 —The Lord is my strength and shield. I trust him with all my heart. He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. I burst out in songs of thanksgiving.

You know the song.

“I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart…”

If that song doesn’t put a smile on your face, you might need to splash a little cold water on your cheeks and pour yourself another cup of coffee.

I grew up singing that in Vacation Bible School, standing in a line of wiggly kids doing hand motions like we were directing traffic. And even now, years later, that tune still pops in my head from time to time.

And I’ve got to tell you. that song didn’t just fall out of the sky.

It was written back in 1925 by a traveling evangelist named George William Cooke. The world he lived in had just come through World War I. Families had buried sons. Influenza had taken millions of lives also. People everywhere were wondering if the world had lost its mind.

And right there in the middle of all that heaviness, this preacher writes a little song that basically says, Joy can live somewhere deeper than your circumstances.

Not in the headlines.

Not in the economy.

Not even in how your morning is going.

It’s way deeper. Jesus. Down deep in my heart.

And I think that’s why it stuck. Because life will give you plenty of reasons not to feel joyful. Bills show up. Relationships get complicated. But we have to find our joy in Him.

Let the Lord be your strength. Trust Him. Scripture says He will be your help and your shield. Let your heart leap for joy at the thought of that.

And maybe today—before the emails start flying, before the errands pile up, before the news tries to steal your peace—you could take just a moment and remember one way the Lord has carried you through.

When you remember His goodness, joy has a way of rising back to the surface and making you say “Wow!” And who knows…

You might find yourself humming along to those old VBS songs too.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where have you been looking for joy lately—in circumstances or in Christ?
  • Can you think of a recent moment where God has been your strength or shield?
  • What is one specific way God has helped you that you can thank Him for today?
  • How might remembering God’s past faithfulness change your mindset right now?
  • What would it look like for you to intentionally “choose joy” in your current season?

John 12:25 — Those who love their life in this world will lose it. Those who care nothing for their life in this world will keep it for eternity.

It’s a strange thing to feel busy and empty at the same time. Have you ever felt that way?

Lately, I’ve caught myself saying, “There has to be more than this.” And I almost hate admitting that. Feeling like running on a hamster wheel going no where. Because on paper, my life is full. Calendar full. Responsibilities full. My days are packed so tightly there’s barely room to breathe.

And yet, I don’t always feel like I’m living out my purpose.

But I’ve been reading in the Word where you lose your life to find life. You know, John 12:25? And I just thought, “You know what? I’m going to stop right there, and I’m going to focus on that verse.”

It sounds backwards.

But Jesus meant it—real life isn’t found in holding on tighter, but in letting go.

We spend so much energy trying to build a life that feels secure, impressive, and comfortable, but Jesus turns the whole thing upside down. The tighter we cling to our version of life, the more it slips through our fingers.

But what I love is that Jesus isn’t asking us to diminish ourselves. He’s inviting us to surrender the small, self-focused version of our lives so that He can give us something bigger. So, when we invest more in the things that matter, like loving others, forgiveness, generosity, or obedience, we aren’t losing. We are investing in eternal things.

So, if you want more out of this life, you’ve got to give more of yourself to Jesus. Lay down the pride, lay down the need to control, and lay down the fear of what you might lose. Because here’s the paradox of the gospel.

The moment you stop living just for you is the moment you truly begin to live.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where in your life do you feel busy—but not truly fulfilled?
  • What are you currently holding onto most tightly (control, comfort, approval, success)?
  • What might Jesus be inviting you to surrender in this season?
  • How would your priorities shift if you focused more on eternal impact than temporary success?
  • What is one practical way you can “lose your life” this week by serving or loving someone else?
  • Do you believe that surrender leads to something better—or does it still feel like loss?

Deuteronomy 31:8 — Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor abandon you.

I know. I’m a weird duck that actually likes mowing the lawn.

Yep. With a push mower.

There’s just something about manual labor and standing back to see a nicely manicured lawn when you’re done. The straight lines. The smell of fresh cut grass. It’s just honest work.

When I was little, my parents didn’t want me mowing. They said it was too dangerous. And to be fair, they weren’t being dramatic. I had a first cousin who lost an eye while mowing after a piece of metal flew up from under and hit him.

But while that accident was tragic, it didn’t stop him. He continued to mow, but from that point forward what he did do was use more caution. And I think we can learn a lot from that.

Because accidents aren’t the only thing we’re afraid of. Some of us are scared to love. We’re scared to try something new because we might fail or because we won’t have enough money, talent, or whatever that thing requires.

So we sit on the porch of our lives and watch the grass grow.

Fear will always hand you a list of worst-case scenarios. Faith hands you a pair of goggles and tells you to keep going. Because God isn’t sending you out alone—He goes ahead of you. He’s already in the unknown, and He’s not going anywhere. So, I think my cousin had it figured out.

Don’t let fear paralyze you. Live like someone who believes God has personally stepped into the what-ifs ahead of you.

Keep doing honest work because God won’t leave you no matter what might fly your way. There is no need to shrink back in fear or give into discouragement. He will neither fail you nor abandon you.

Maybe there’s something you’ve been avoiding. A conversation. A calling. A fresh start. The grass is high, and the what-ifs are loud. But it is worth putting on your faith goggles.

Get back out there because maybe, just maybe, there’s joy to be found when you walk in courage.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What is something fear has been keeping you from stepping into right now?
  • What “worst-case scenarios” have been playing on repeat in your mind?
  • How would your next step look different if you truly believed God has already gone ahead of you?
  • Where are you tempted to “sit on the porch” instead of stepping into what God is calling you toward?
  • What does trusting God’s presence—not just His outcome—look like in your current situation?
  • Is there one small step of courage you can take today?
  • How does remembering that God will never leave or abandon you change the way you face uncertainty?

Hebrews 12:2 — 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.

Some mornings I don’t wake up choosing joy. I wake up choosing survival. The bills are lined up like they own the place. The phone rings. Bad news.

And it has had me thinking a lot about joy lately—how it’s not the same thing as happiness.

Because where I fix my eyes determines what fills my heart.

Happiness comes and goes with the weather of our lives. When good news rolls in, we smile. But when bad news comes, that smile gets slapped clean off.

But joy doesn’t work that way. And I’m so grateful for that. If I think for a minute it does, I just have to remember the cross.

There outside Jerusalem there was blood, dust, and mockery. Jesus is hurting and suffocating with people spitting at Him. And here’s what gets me: He stayed.

He didn’t have to. He could have stepped down and said, “Father, this is not what I signed up for.” Angels would have swooped down to get him off the cross, but He didn’t.

He chose to endure the cross “for the joy set before Him.” That’s how scripture puts it.

There was nothing happy about crucifixion. No comfort or applause. Yet Jesus saw joy on the horizon. You see, joy is not tied to what’s happening around you or to you; it’s anchored to what God is doing beyond you and through you.

The cross was agony, but it wasn’t pointless. Jesus endured because He knew the story didn’t end with a grave. No, Jesus saw redemption. He saw us brought home.

If joy was the same as happiness, He could not have carried it with Him to Golgotha. That means joy isn’t fragile. It’s rooted in certainty. It’s rooted in resurrection and the finished work of our Savior.

And if Jesus could hold onto joy, then my hardest days don’t get to steal it from me either. So, when I feel heavy, I lift my eyes to the old rugged cross, and I walk into the day with joy.

I hope you will too.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When you wake up feeling overwhelmed, what do your thoughts naturally fixate on?
  • How have you experienced the difference between happiness and joy in your own life?
  • What does it practically look like for you to “fix your eyes on Jesus” in a hard moment?
  • Where might God be inviting you to trust that He is working beyond what you can see?
  • How would your day change if your joy was rooted in what Jesus has already finished?

Psalm 16:7 — I will bless the Lord who guides me; even at night my heart instructs me.

Rejection hurts, doesn’t it?

Yeah, you know, I had been applying for full-time jobs when I moved home to Louisiana. And I was standing in my kitchen one morning and heard my phone ping. When I checked it, I saw these nine words.

“We’re sorry, we’ve decided to move in another direction.”

Oh that stung. It was a job I knew I was qualified for and confident I could do well. But there I was staring at my phone like a door had just slammed in my face.

Rejection makes you question everything. Your timing, your worth. Was I really called to move back home?

But I sat down and breathed. I let myself feel the sting because pretending it doesn’t hurt doesn’t help. Somewhere between that breath and my second sip of coffee, I started to sense God quietly steadying my heart.”

Though man had rejected me, God was redirecting me with love.

Scripture doesn’t promise approval from every hiring committee or affirmation from every inbox. But it does promise guidance. The Lord gives counsel, and even in the quiet of the night, the heart can be instructed and steadied by Him.

I realized something important: the steps that felt like setbacks were still steps. And they’re still ordered by God. He has a hope and a future planned for me, and He knows what He is doing.

So if you’re holding one of those emails today, maybe take a breath before you delete it. Let the hurt be honest, but don’t let it write the ending. Remember that you’re not behind. You’re not forgotten. And you’re not walking alone.

Because closed doors don’t cancel your calling; they sometimes clarify it.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Have you experienced a recent rejection that left you questioning your direction or worth?
  • How do you typically respond when something doesn’t go the way you hoped?
  • Can you remember a time when a “closed door” actually led to something better?
  • What might it look like for you to trust that God is guiding you—even when the path doesn’t make sense?
  • How can you create space to listen for God’s quiet direction in your life this week?

Ephesians 1:7 — In Him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace 

Forgiveness.

Is it harder to forgive others… or yourself?

Especially when you’ve done something you can’t seem to justify—something that doesn’t match who you thought you were.

I’ve always seen myself as a good friend. Loyal. The kind of person who shows up with a casserole and stays late to help clean up.

Not a backstabber.

But if I’m honest, there’s a moment in my life that didn’t look like that at all.

It started with a job posting.

It was a great opportunity—good pay, solid position. But I wasn’t even that interested… until a friend told me she wanted it. And suddenly, I did too.

Human nature is tricky like that.

So I applied. And I didn’t tell her.

People do this all the time, I told myself. We’re both qualified. No harm in trying.

But the moment I got the interview call, something shifted.

My stomach dropped.

What kind of friend am I?

Deep down, I knew—I would probably get the job.

So I turned it down.

I told the employer they didn’t need me. They needed her.

And they hired her.

Praise God.

But even after that, the guilt stuck around.

So I went to my friend and told her everything. She was hurt—and rightfully so. But I owned it. I asked for forgiveness.

And over time, she gave it.

The harder part came later.

Forgiving myself.

What I had to come to terms with was this: I had already repented. And because of that, Christ had already extended mercy.

In Him, I already had redemption.

My debt was paid in full. My sin forgiven—not because I earned it, but because His grace is rich.

Not thin. Not hesitant. Not running out.

Rich.

And forgiving myself didn’t mean pretending it never happened.

It meant agreeing with God that it’s already been covered.

I’ll mess up again. I know that now.

But I also know this:

I don’t have to carry my failures longer than God does.

So I’m done rehearsing the guilt.

I’m going to keep showing up—with the casserole.

Maybe there’s something you’re still holding against yourself.

Something you’ve already confessed. Something God has already forgiven.

You don’t have to excuse it. You don’t have to erase it.

But you can set it down.

Because grace has already covered it.

And sometimes, the last person who needs to forgive you…

is you.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Is it harder for you to forgive others or yourself? Why?
  • What’s something you may still be holding against yourself that God has already forgiven?
  • What does it mean to you that God’s grace is “rich” and not limited?
  • How can you begin to agree with God instead of your guilt?
  • What would it look like to “set it down” this week?

Matthew 6:19-21 — Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be. 

The check was bigger than anything Rich Mullins ever expected to see with his name on it.

Songs he had written—honest, raw, deeply about God—were being picked up by labels. Christian radio was playing them. Other artists were recording them. Royalties were coming in steadily now.

By every standard, he was doing well.

But Rich felt uneasy about it.

This was the late ’80s and ’90s. He could have upgraded his life without anyone questioning it. A bigger house. A nicer car. More comfort. Most people would have called that wisdom.

Instead, Rich asked a different question:

How much is enough?

He believed money was a tool, and he didn’t want it quietly reshaping his heart. Jesus had warned that where our treasure is, our hearts will follow—and Rich didn’t want his heart buried in things that could be lost, stolen, or worn away.

So he did something almost unheard of.

He asked his record label to cap his income at what he called a “working man’s salary.” Just enough to live on. Everything beyond that, he gave away to charities and ministries serving people in need.

There were no announcements. No campaigns built around his name.

He kept writing. He kept touring. But money stopped being the thing he chased—or feared. His life became simpler, lighter. And his generosity made clear what he valued most.

Rich Mullins didn’t live a long life. He died in 1997 at just 41 years old. But he lived a clear one. His songs still point people to God today. And his choices still challenge the assumption that more is always better.

Jesus said, “Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.”

What we do with what we have reveals what we love most.

True generosity isn’t about having excess. It’s about deciding what really matters. Defining “enough” keeps money in its proper place and keeps our hearts anchored somewhere that doesn’t fade.

So today, consider what God has placed in your hands. Use it well. And let generosity shape a life that stores up treasure in the only place it lasts—heaven.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When you think about your resources, what feels like “enough” to you?
  • How do Jesus’ words about treasure challenge the way you think about money or success?
  • In what ways can generosity help keep your heart focused on eternal things?
  • What is one practical way you could use what you’ve been given to bless someone else this week?
  • Where do your choices reveal that your heart’s treasure really is?

SOMETIMES BY STEP

BY RICH MULLINS

Sometimes the night was beautiful
Sometimes the sky was so far away
Sometimes it seemed to stoop so close
You could touch it but your heart would break
Sometimes the morning came too soon
Sometimes the day could be so hot
There was so much work left to do
But so much You’d already done

O God, You are my God
And I will ever praise You
O God, You are my God
And I will ever praise You
And I will seek You in the morning
And I will learn to walk in Your ways
And step by step You’ll lead me
And I will follow You all of my days

Sometimes I think of Abraham
How one star he saw had been lit for me
He was a stranger in this land
And I am that, no less than he
And on this road to righteousness
Sometimes the climb can be so steep
I may falter in my steps
But never beyond Your reach

O God, You are my God
And I will ever praise You
O God, You are my God
And I will ever praise You

I will seek You in the morning
And I will learn to walk in Your ways
And step-by-step You’ll lead me
And I will follow You all of my days

And I will follow You all of my days
And I will follow You all of my days

And step by step You’ll lead me
And I will follow You all of my days
And I will follow You all of my days
(Sometimes the night was beautiful)
And I will follow You all of my days
(Sometimes the night . . .)
(Sometimes the night was beautiful)
And I will follow You all of my days
(. . . Was beautiful)
(Sometimes the night was beautiful)
And I will follow You all of my days
(So beautiful)
And I will follow You all of my days
And I will follow You all of my days

And I will follow You all of my days
(O God, you are my God)
And I will follow You all of my days
And I will follow You all of my days
(Sometimes the night was beautiful)
And I will follow You all of my days

And I will follow You all of my days

Songwriters: David Strasser / Richard W. Mullins

Psalm 55:17 — Morning, noon, and night I cry out in my distress, and the Lord hears my voice.

The room feels too quiet after the call ends.

John stands there with the phone still in his hand, like the words were spoken in a language he doesn’t understand. Then he sits on the edge of the bed, because standing suddenly feels like too much. An hour ago, his future made sense. Now the love of his life is gone.

He’s a veteran. He knows darkness. He knows how to keep moving when things get hard. But this… this breakup… it feels like free fall.

Things he learned long ago to bury begin rising up. He survived so much by locking memories away. You don’t feel too much. You move forward.

But that’s impossible tonight.

He doesn’t want to die. He just doesn’t know how to keep living without her. That tension presses against his chest. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor, trying not to give up—though he’s not even sure what “not giving up” means anymore.

He tells himself to get up, to do something, but his body won’t listen.

And then, soft as a whisper, a thought comes:

Turn on the radio.

In the darkness, John reaches over and turns the dial. Music fills the room—gentle, steady. Words about God being near. About holding on. About light that doesn’t abandon him.

John doesn’t sing. He doesn’t move. He just stays.

The noise inside him quiets enough to breathe. Nothing is fixed. Nothing is solved. By morning, the grief is still there. The road ahead is still unclear.

But he is still here.

Somewhere in the lyrics, something breaks through. Not a solution. Not a plan. Just a reminder: God loves him, and He meets us where we are—even in the dark.

“Morning, noon, and night I cry out in my distress, and the Lord hears my voice.”

God wasn’t waiting for perfect prayers. He was listening through the long night. Through the silence. He was listening to a man sitting on the edge of the bed with nothing left to offer.

If you’re there right now—worn down, overwhelmed, just trying to make it through—there is grace for staying. You don’t have to fix everything tonight. You don’t need the right words.

God hears you. Even now.

Let Him fill the silence. Let the night pass. Morning knows how to find you. And His voice can carry you—one song at a time.


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where do you feel like you’re just “staying” right now instead of thriving?
  • What emotions have you been trying to bury that may need to be brought honestly before God?
  • How does it change things to know God hears you—even when you don’t have the words?
  • What small step (like turning on the radio) could help you breathe tonight?
  • When have you experienced God meeting you quietly in a dark season before?

1 Corinthians 10:13 — No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.

My coffee’s gone cold by the time Leslie’s text lights up my phone.

Leslie isn’t one to send fluff. When she reaches out, you pay attention. This time she writes, “I prayed for you this morning. I prayed whatever shiny bait the enemy dangles in front of you, that God would clip his line and he’d lose his lure.”

I laugh because it’s so Leslie. So Southern. So exactly what I needed.

Because in my life, fishing makes sense.

I grew up around it — early mornings, dew on the grass, the smell of bait that never quite washes off. I’d watch a bobber like it was the most important thing in the world. And if the fish don’t bite? You don’t blame the fish. You switch the bait.

The enemy fishes the same way — and he’s been doing it a long time. He’s skilled and persistent. If one lure doesn’t work, he just swaps it out for something shinier. Something more distracting. Something designed to pull my eyes off what really matters.

And I’ve chased a few of those shiny things myself. Nothing catastrophic or headline-worthy. Just distractions that sparkle more than they satisfy. Things God never really wanted for me.

That’s the trick. The lure isn’t dangerous because it’s irresistible — it’s dangerous because it wastes time. While I stare at the wrong things, I miss the good stuff God is actually placing right in front of me.

Scripture reminds us of something steady and grounding. 1 Corinthians 10:13 says, “No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”

The temptation isn’t unique. The struggle isn’t proof you’re failing. And the lure isn’t stronger than God.

There is always a way out.

Sometimes the escape looks like walking away.
Sometimes it looks like deleting the app.
Sometimes it looks like not replying.
Sometimes it looks like simply waiting long enough for the shine to wear off.

God is faithful. Not distant. Not distracted. Faithful.

So when something glittery pulls at your attention — something that promises quick relief or easy satisfaction — pause. Ask yourself if it’s nourishment or just noise.

Let the wrong line get clipped.

Turn toward what lasts. Turn toward the steady, nourishing goodness of God that truly satisfies. Let go of every shiny distraction that was never meant for you in the first place.

He is faithful. And He always provides a way through.

 


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What “shiny bait” has been competing for your attention lately — something that looks appealing but may not lead where you truly want to go?
  • When you feel tempted or distracted, what does your usual response look like? Do you react quickly, or do you pause long enough to notice the way of escape?
  • How have you seen God provide a way out in the past — even if it wasn’t obvious at first?
  • What practical step could you take today to “clip the line” on something that keeps pulling you away from what matters most?
  • How might trusting God’s faithfulness change the way you face temptation this week?