Jesus Is Worth the Wait

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Psalm 130:5 – I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in His word I put my hope.

Before a single light twinkled on the tree, Jeannine set a small wooden manger on the coffee table. Nothing inside it but straw.

Her four little ones tore through the house, loud and curious.

“Where’s Mary?”
“Where’s Joseph?”
“Where are the animals?”

Jeannine just smiled and told them everyone was still on their way.

She wanted her children to feel the story, not just hear it. So she tucked the nativity pieces all around the house—behind books, under dish towels, perched on windowsills—each one waiting for its turn to move.

Every day, the figures inched closer to the stable. The kids checked on them like detectives, noting even the tiniest shift.

Before long, the slow journey became more than a game. It became a way for the whole family to enter the story—step by quiet step—feeling the waiting and the longing that God’s people carried for generations before the Messiah arrived. Every movement built anticipation. Every pause whispered that some promises unfold slowly.

Scripture describes waiting on God in the same way: not as passive or powerless, but as hope with its eyes wide open.

“I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in His word I put my hope.” — Psalm 130:5

Waiting isn’t losing time. It is trusting that the God who promised is still at work, even when we can’t see movement.

On Christmas Eve, after the children finally drifted off to sleep, Jeannine placed the tiny baby in the manger. She rested her hand on the roof of the little stable and let the weight of that moment settle in.

And on Christmas morning? The kids flew right past the presents and ran straight to the manger. Their joy was bright and unmistakable. There He was. And somehow the waiting made His arrival feel even sweeter.

Every year since, Jeannine still sets up that slow-moving nativity. There’s something about those “we’re almost there” days that has changed them. The journey is no longer frustrating—confident hope is stitched into their hearts as they wait.

So how about you? Is there any area of your life where you feel like you are still waiting for God to move? The waiting is not wasted. Like Jeannine and her kids discovered, Jesus always arrives right on time—just as He promises.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where in your life right now do you feel like you’re waiting on God?
  • How might you shift your waiting from frustration to hopeful expectation?
  • What promise from Scripture can you hold onto in this season?
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Beauty That Does Not Fade

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Joshua 21:45 — Not a single one of all the good promises the Lord had given to the family of Israel was left unfulfilled; everything he had spoken came true.

I am steering my cart down that aisle—you know the one. The aisle that always catches your eye no matter how focused you think you are. For me, it’s the skincare section.

It’s Black Friday, and sure, I should be looking for the next gift on my list right now. But there’s something about this aisle.

I lean over and pick up a box that claims to lift, smooth, and firm—basically a miracle in moisturizer form. I laugh under my breath. “I’ve got more serums than sense,” I tell myself.

Still, I reread the label.

The truth is, I’ve been struggling with this whole “gravity” thing, and every new product feels like a promise to win back what time has taken. Honestly, I could probably pay a car note with what I’ve spent chasing that fountain of youth.

But then, quietly, something in me resists. I’ve been praying about this—about learning to age gracefully, about not letting the mirror dictate my peace. And right there, I realize I don’t need it.

So, for the first time in a long time, I put the box back. Just like that. It seems small, but it feels like a big victory.

As I push my cart toward the next aisle, I think about how all of this—the sales, the shimmer, and the temporary glow—fades so fast. God’s promises are better. They don’t peel or expire. They hold true and stand the test of time.

And maybe that’s the reminder I needed most today: that “not one of all the good promises the Lord made has failed” (Joshua 21:45).

Every word He has spoken stands. So while the world may chase what fades, let’s hold onto the real beauty is found in contentment and trust. Because if I know one thing is true, God’s promises will never run out.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • In what areas of your life are you tempted to chase temporary solutions instead of trusting God’s lasting promises?
  • How can remembering God’s faithfulness help you make everyday decisions with more peace and contentment?
  • Which promises of God have you seen come true in your own life, and how do they encourage your faith today?
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One Plate at a Time

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Philippians 1:9-10 — I pray that your love will overflow more and more, and that you will keep on growing in knowledge and understanding. For I want you to understand what really matters, so that you may live pure and blameless lives until the day of Christ’s return.

My favorite cook was Effie Mae Prewitt. She was my mom’s mom. We called her Ma-mae.

I can still see her standing at the stove in her kitchen — that worn skillet and the smell of butter melting before sunrise. She would hum some tune from church and was never in a hurry.

Her pancakes were perfection on a plate. Soft. Golden. Warm. I remember begging to spend Friday nights at her house, just so I could wake up to those pancakes and Saturday morning cartoons. That was better than a trip to Disney World.

I’d sit at her kitchen table, legs swinging, while she slid a fresh stack onto my plate. She would ask simple questions — how I was doing, if I’d slept well, if I wanted more syrup — and she’d listen like every word mattered.

Back then, I didn’t know she was teaching me something more important than a recipe. She was showing me what love looks like when it’s served hot off the griddle.

Now she’s gone. The kitchen’s quiet, and there’s no one to ask, “What are you cooking?” I miss her hands — always doing something kind for someone else.

When I think back on memories of her, I just think about the gospel. You know? In its simplest form — feeding the hungry, comforting the lonely, loving people. That’s what life is all about right?

I want the love I share to overflow the same way Ma-mae’s pancakes overflowed with warmth and care.

Philippians 1:9-10 comes to mind: “I pray that your love will overflow more and more, and that you will keep on growing in knowledge and understanding. For I want you to understand what really matters, so that you may live pure and blameless lives until the day of Christ’s return.”

So, how about you? It’s in those small, daily acts that Jesus’s love becomes visible through us. No matter how simple, I believe that whatever you do in love will warm hearts and change lives.

After all, that’s how Ma-mae did it — one plate at a time.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • How can small, everyday acts of love make a difference in someone’s life?
  • In what ways can you grow in understanding what truly matters?
  • Who in your life models the kind of love Paul describes in Philippians 1:9-10, and how can you follow their example?
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Thankful For Sandpaper People

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Colossians 3:13 — Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.

I stir the pasta sauce on the stove and glance out the kitchen window, letting the quiet of the evening settle around me. The day had been full of people—some kind, some careless, and a few who seemed determined to push every one of my buttons.

I shake my head and laugh at myself, because I have a name for these types in my prayers. I call them sandpaper people. They scratch, they irritate, they rub you wrong without even trying, and somehow, God always seems to place them right in my path.

I breathe in slowly, the aroma of garlic and tomato mingling with the evening air, and let the tension go.

Sandpaper, I remind myself, smooths rough edges. And I have plenty. I have places I do not even see—spots where I can be abrasive, impatient, judgmental. And maybe, without meaning to, I am a sandpaper person to someone else today. It is in the friction of our interactions, the bumps and irritations of ordinary life, that God works on us.

I think that’s why scripture says, “Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.”

That’s the kind of grace I want, so shouldn’t I also make room in my heart for others even when they are aggravating.

I taste the sauce, still too hot, and smile. I lift my heart in a quiet “thank you” for those people who tested my patience today. I whisper a prayer for them, too. Because God does not just ask us to endure. God asks us to love. Even the ones who are hardest to love. Even the ones who make us want to roll our eyes or bite our tongues.

They are refining us. And sometimes, they are mirrors, showing us the rough spots in ourselves that only He can smooth.

So I stir the pot again and watch the steam rise. And I wonder, if we looked at the people who irritate us with a little more gratitude, would we see them differently?

Could we see them as part of the plan, helping shape the patience and kindness we could not develop on our own? Tonight, I am thankful. For the sandpaper people, for the growth they inspire, and for a God who never wastes the little irritations of a day.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Who are the “sandpaper people” in your life right now—and how might God be using them to shape your character?
  • When has someone shown you grace when you didn’t deserve it? How did that affect you?
  • How can you practice “making allowance” for someone’s faults this week in a practical way?
  • What happens to your heart when you shift from irritation to gratitude toward the people who test your patience?
  • How does remembering God’s forgiveness toward you change the way you respond to others?
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Cheering Each Other On

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1 Thessalonians 5:11 — Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.

There is something about Louisiana in the fall that feels like home. The air smells faintly of roasted peanuts and dew, and the sky burns orange just before the lights come on at Malone Stadium.

This was the big kickoff to high school football season, Bayou Jam, and folks from every corner of our region had come out to fill the stands.

I found my seat among the chatter and brass-band energy, letting my eyes wander down to the field. There she was on the sidelines—one of the cheerleaders soaring high into the air. My niece. My reason for being there.

She has been a cheerleader since ninth grade, and now it is her senior year. Watching her there, so full of joy and confidence, I felt a swell of pride. See, I do not have children of my own, but my nieces and nephews might as well be. And she has grown into such a remarkable young woman—steady, kind, and ready for whatever comes next.

It made me think back to my own senior year, that strange in-between season when you stand on the edge of adulthood with a thousand voices telling you who to be. Life pulls at you from every direction. But when I look at her, I see someone who knows her worth, even when the world tries to test it.

Sitting there, I realized something simple but true: we all need people who cheer us on.

Maybe you are not the one out on the field or flipping through the air, but everyone has the chance to stand in the crowd and shout, “You’ve got this!” That kind of encouragement carries people farther than we know — and Scripture reminds us to do exactly that.

1 Thessalonians 5:11 says, “Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.” 

Friend, this life is a lot like Bayou Jam—full of noise and nerves and bright lights. But the victories feel sweeter when we know someone else is cheering for us from the stands.

That is what I believe we are all called to do: keep showing up, keep encouraging, keep believing the best. After all, who knows what strength our words might give to someone who just needs to know we are in their corner?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Who are the “cheerleaders” in your life — the people who have encouraged you when you needed it most?
  • Think about someone who might need your encouragement this week. What’s one simple way you could cheer them on?
  • 1 Thessalonians 5:11 reminds us to “encourage one another and build one another up.” What does “building someone up” look like in your daily life?
  • When was a time someone’s belief in you gave you strength or courage you didn’t know you had?
  • How might your words today help someone else feel seen, valued, and supported — even in small, quiet ways?
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Telling Troubles to Take a Hike

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2 Thessalonians 3:3 — But the Lord is faithful; He will strengthen you and guard you from the evil one.

Some mornings test your faith before the coffee’s even brewed.

It was Sunday. I had been invited to speak at Stark Baptist Church, and I wanted to show up calm, confident, and put together. But my new old house had other ideas.

I had only moved in the night before, and as I stood in the bathroom with my curling iron in hand, I realized there was no outlet. Not one. And to top it off, there was not even a mirror.

I stared at the empty wall like it had betrayed me. Then I texted my friend Leslie, who is a hairdresser. She’s the kind of woman who can fix anything.

“Bring every tool you own,” I told her. “I’m getting ready at the church.”

She sent back about ten laughing emojis, and I tried to laugh too. But that laugh stopped when I walked outside. My car tire was flat as a pancake.

I stood there in my driveway, looking at it like it might un-flatten out of guilt.

“Really?” I said. “This is how we’re starting the day?”

Leslie called. “Girl, you better start singing that song ‘Get Behind Me.’”

So, I did. Right there, still in my driveway, I sang Emerson Day’s lyric’s out loud. I even threw in, “Not today, Satan. Not tomorrow either. Move along, Sparky.”

And just like that, something in me unclenched. The morning didn’t change. I still had a flat tire, no mirror, and a talk to give, but my heart did feel peace. The worry lost its grip, and the humor came back.

Sometimes faith looks like standing in your driveway with a flat tire, choosing to laugh instead of panic. Sometimes it looks like telling trouble to take a hike.

I made it to church that day. But more than that, I made it through the morning without losing my peace—and that, I think, is the kind of victory worth holding onto.

2 Thessalonians 3:3 says, “But the Lord is faithful. He will establish you and guard you against the evil one.”

So, friend, when your day starts falling apart, just take a breath. Find your footing and tell trouble where to go. And keep your peace right where it belongs.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Think about a recent morning or moment that didn’t go as planned. How did you respond—panic, frustration, or peace?
  • 2 Thessalonians 3:3 reminds us that “the Lord is faithful.” How have you seen God’s faithfulness guard or steady you when things felt chaotic?
  • When life feels like one thing after another, what helps you keep your peace anchored in God rather than your circumstances?
  • Humor played a big role in Tammi’s story—how might joy and laughter be an act of faith in your own challenges?
  • What practical “not today, Satan” step could you take this week when things start to fall apart—something that helps you pause, breathe, and choose peace?

Lyrics:

When fear like a viper strikes
And worry starts to creep
I know that ain’t my Father’s voice
I could only be
That liar in my ear
Trying to make me believe
But I’m calling him out in the name of the Lord
Listen when I speak

Devil get behind me
Run on home
Back to the grave where you belong
In case you forgot
Let me tell you the truth
You’re stuck under my blood-bought boots!
Devil get behind me
You got no hold
I’ve been changed by the Holy Ghost
Try all you want but it ain’t no use
You’re stuck under my blood-bought boots

Get behind me!
Get behind me! Devil get behind me!

The same power that raised my Savior
Is the power that lives in me
So if you wanna pick a fight
You better think twice
Cause He’s got an angel army!

Devil get behind me
Run on home
Back to the grave where you belong
In case you forgot
Let me tell you the truth
You’re stuck under my blood-bought boots!
Devil get behind me
You got no hold
I’ve been changed by the Holy Ghost
Try all you want but it ain’t no use
You’re stuck under my blood-bought boots

Get behind me!
Get behind me!
Devil get behind me!
In the name of the Lord
In the name of the Lord

Devil get behind me in the name of the Lord
Devil get behind me in the name of the Lord
Devil get behind me in the name of the Lord
In the name of the Lord!

Devil get behind me
Run on home
Back to the grave where you belong
Just in case you forgot the truth
You’re stuck under my blood-bought boots!
Devil get behind me
You got no hold
I’ve been changed by the Holy Ghost
Try all you want but it ain’t no use
You’re stuck under my blood-bought boots

Get behind me!
Get behind me!
Devil get behind me!
In the name of the Lord!

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Every Hour, I Need Him

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Psalms 34:17 – The Lord hears His people when they call to Him for help. He rescues them from all their troubles.

Some days, even your own shoes feel too heavy.

That was me not long ago, dragging through the morning like I was wading through syrup. I wasn’t falling apart in some dramatic way—it was just the small stuff that piles up. Bills. Work. Loneliness. The creeping fear that maybe this is all life will ever be.

I sat in the car before heading inside, gripping the steering wheel like it might hold me together. I was praying, but not really. I was mostly just breathing.

Then, over the hum of my car’s speakers, Matt Maher’s song started: “Lord, I need You, oh, I need You; every hour I need You.”

Inside, my heart felt flooded with peace. I didn’t say anything. I just let the words wash over me, like water for my soul. I knew God was doing for my heart what I couldn’t.

Later, I looked up the story behind that song. Turns out, Maher had been asked to write something for a worship conference. He said the only way he could do it was by starting with what he himself needed.

So he sat down, thinking of old hymns and books read from C.S. Lewis, and out came that prayer of desperation set to melody. “Lord, I need You” was born from weakness.

That’s me. That’s us. Weak people, whispering weak prayers, and somehow finding strength to make it through one more hour.

And maybe that’s enough. Maybe that’s the point.

Because every hour, I need Him. And every hour, He’s already there.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When was the last time you felt too weary to pray—and how did God meet you anyway?
  • What small, quiet ways has God reminded you of His presence when life feels heavy?
  • How might weakness actually draw you closer to Him, rather than push you away?
  • Is there a song, verse, or memory that helps you remember you are never alone?

Lyrics

Lord I come, I confess
Bowing here, I find my rest
Without You, I fall apart
You’re the one that guides my heart

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You
Every hour, I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You

Where sin runs deep, Your grace is more
Where grace is found is where You are
And where You are, Lord, I am free
Holiness is Christ in me

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You
Every hour, I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You

So teach my song to rise to You
When temptation comes my way
And when I cannot stand, I’ll fall on You
Jesus, You’re my hope and stay

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You
Every hour, I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You
You’re my one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You

My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You

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When Love Leaves its Mark

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Revelation 14:13 – “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on. ‘Blessed indeed,’ says the Spirit, ‘that they may rest from their labors, for their deeds follow them!’” 

I walked into my parents’ house and had to stop for a moment. The air smelled faintly of old wood and a hint of sugar, like it always had. I let my eyes wander, taking it all in

I drifted toward the kitchen. That room that always pulled me in first.

It was too quiet. I half expected to hear mom there, humming a hymn while making a pitcher of sweet tea. That music had once been the heartbeat of the house.

The longer I stood there, the heavier the memories pressed in. She has been gone more than two decades, and still, the ache surprises me.

People told me grief softens over time. Maybe it does. I do not cry every time I think of her, but here, in this kitchen I find myself blinking back tears.

I caught sight of her photo on the shelf and smiled through the blur. Then I noticed her Bible sitting in the corner, worn and waiting, as though she might reach for it at any moment. I wished I could tell her about the ways God had carried me.

She always made sure I heard about Jesus, even if she did not sit in the pew herself. I would give anything for her to see the woman I have become.

And as I stood there, the words of Revelation 14:13 came to mind:

“Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord… that they may rest from their labors, for their deeds follow them.”

Even through the tears, I realized something: the lessons she left behind and the love she poured into me were bigger than the loss. That is what really matters.

I say that because I realized life is about leaving a Jesus-shaped imprint on people. Life is fleeting, but the marks we leave—especially the ones shaped by love and faith—always linger.

I took one more look around and smiled to myself. Mom’s imprint was all over this house.

And it always would be.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Who in your life has left a “Jesus-shaped imprint” on your heart?
  • What kind of spiritual legacy do you hope to leave behind for others?
  • How does the promise of rest in Revelation 14:13 bring you comfort in seasons of grief?
  • When you think about your own life, what “deeds” or moments of love do you hope will follow you and point others to Christ?
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Safe in the Arms of God

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Psalm 46:1 – God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble.

Some days you don’t realize how badly you need someone until you nearly lose your footing. I think that’s why Lauren Daigle’s song “Thank God I Do” has sunk so deep into my heart.

When she first shared the story behind it, it felt like she was putting words to things I’ve known myself. She was on top of the world, in the middle of a massive tour, when everything shut down in 2020.

She thought it would be a short pause—but weeks turned into months. What she described wasn’t just disappointment, it was a crumbling. Panic attacks hit her hard, and she found herself at rock bottom, unsure who she even was anymore.

She said her mom and a friend sat with her through a seven-hour panic attack. No judgment, no shame. Just presence. And out of that experience, she wrote this song.

She said it was the clearest picture of God she’d seen in a long time. She could feel God holding her steady through the people who simply prayed. That struck me: God shows His nearness not always in lightning bolts, but sometimes in the simple company of people who refuse to leave your side.

That’s what the song reminds me of every time.

“You’re my constant, my steadiness, you’re my shelter, my oxygen.”

Those aren’t just lyrics. They’re a testimony. They’re the sound of someone realizing they are not as alone as they feared.

I’ve carried that into my own life, too. There have been times when the ground under me felt fragile, when I didn’t know how to put myself back together. And yet, I can look back and see God’s fingerprints in the people who showed up, in the peace that somehow settled in, in the safety I found in Him.

When the world feels shaky, it’s easy to believe you’re slipping away. But this song reminds me of a greater truth: God is the home I can always return to. He steadies me. He holds me safe. And for that, like Lauren, I can only say—thank God I do.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When have you felt the ground beneath you start to shake, and how did God show up for you in that moment?
  • Who in your life has been a steady reminder of God’s presence when you needed it most?
  • Psalm 46:1 calls God “an ever-present help.” What does that mean to you personally?
  • How might you be God’s presence to someone else who feels unsteady right now?

Lyrics:

I’ve seen love come and
I’ve seen love walk away
So many questions
Will anybody stay
It’s been a hard year
So many nights in tears
All of the darkness
Trying to fight my fears
Alone so long alone

I don’t know who I’d be
If I didn’t know you
I’d probably fall off the edge
I don’t know where I’d go
If you ever let go
So keep me held in your hands

I’ve started breathing
The weight is lifted here
With you it’s easy
My head is finally clear
There’s nothing missing
When you are by my side
I took the long road
But now I realize
I’m home with you I’m home

I don’t know who I’d be
If I didn’t know you
I’d probably fall off the edge
I don’t know where I’d go
If you ever let go
So keep me held in your hands

I don’t know who I’d be
If I didn’t know you
I’d probably fall off the edge
I don’t know where I’d go
If you ever let go
So keep me held in your hands

You’re my safe place
My hide away
You’re my anchor
My saving grace
You’re my constant
My steadiness
You’re my shelter
My oxygen

I don’t know who I’d be
If I didn’t know you
Thank God I do

I don’t know who I’d be
If I didn’t know you
I’d probably fall off the edge
I don’t know where I’d go
If you ever let go
So keep me held in your hands
I don’t know who I’d be
If I didn’t know you
Thank God I do

 

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Fear Is a Mouse with a Microphone

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Isaiah 35:4 – Say to those who have an anxious heart, “Be strong, and do not fear, for your God is coming to destroy your enemies. He is coming to save you.”

I never thought I would scream that loudly over something so small.

I had jumped up on the couch like the floor was lava, and it was all because a mouse skittered across my living room. Yes. That’s right. Three ounces of fur had reduced me to full-on panic mode.

Once my heart stopped pounding, I laughed at myself. How could something so small stir up so much fear?

But then I thought about how often I let the same thing happen in life. Tomorrow’s unknowns creep in, and I react like that mouse might eat me. Will there be enough money for that bill? Will that situation work out? What if I cannot handle what is coming?

The truth is, most of what I fear does not deserve the weight I give it. They may be frustrating, like rodents and roaches, but they are not stronger than God. He’s the One who holds my tomorrow.

Isaiah 35:4 says, “Say to those who have an anxious heart, ‘Be strong; fear not! For your God is coming to destroy your enemies. He is coming to save you.”

I looked at the spot where the mouse had vanished, and I finally smiled. Maybe the panic was not wasted after all, because it reminded me of something I forget too easily. I am not asked to carry tomorrow. I am only asked to trust that God already has it in His hands.

Tomorrow does not need your fear, only your faith.

Because when it comes down to it, a mouse in the house, or a worry in the mind, is never as powerful as it pretends to be.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What “small fears” have been taking up too much space in your heart lately?
  • How does Isaiah 35:4 remind you of God’s strength in the face of your worries?
  • What would it look like today to trade one specific fear for faith?
  • Can you think of a time when fear felt big—but God proved Himself bigger?
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