notesbynora

When we think about Mary Magdalene, we often think of her standing near the empty tomb on resurrection morning. But her story is so much deeper. It is a story of deliverance, devotion, and a love for Jesus so steady that she remained when others ran.

Mary wasn’t a woman of status or privilege. Scripture tells us she was a woman Jesus delivered from seven demons — a woman who had known bondage, torment, and darkness. When Jesus set her free, He didn’t just restore her mind; He restored her dignity, her purpose, and her identity.

From that moment on, Mary followed Him with her whole heart.

She was there during His ministry. She was there at the cross when others fled. She was there at His burial when hope seemed lost. And she was there at the tomb when the stone was rolled away.

Mary Magdalene stayed close. Her devotion wasn’t based on what Jesus could do for her — it was born out of what He had already done.

On the darkest day in history, when the sky grew black and Jesus breathed His last breath, Mary stayed. She didn’t run from the pain. She didn’t hide from the grief. Love held her in place.

And here’s the beautiful truth:

Because Mary Magdalene stayed, she was the first to see the risen Savior.

Not Peter.
Not John.
Not the disciples.

Mary.

A woman once bound in darkness became the first preacher of the resurrection. Jesus looked into the eyes of the one who stayed and entrusted her with the message that changed the world:

“Go and tell…”

What a beautiful reminder of God’s heart — He reveals Himself to those who remain close.

There are moments in our lives when God calls us to stay — to stay faithful, to stay prayerful, to stay steady even when circumstances look hopeless. Mary Magdalene reminds us that sometimes the most powerful act of faith is simply showing up when everything in us wants to retreat.

Maybe you’re walking through a difficult season — heartbreak, loss, uncertainty, or waiting. Maybe you’re wondering why things look dark, or why God seems silent.

Stay.

Stay near Jesus.
Stay in prayer.
Stay in the Word.
Stay in worship.
Stay rooted in faith.

Because the same Savior who spoke Mary’s name outside the empty tomb is the same Savior who speaks your name in moments of confusion and sorrow. Mary didn’t recognize Jesus until He said her name.
And when He did, everything in her world changed. He still calls our names today.

He calls us out of fear. He calls us out of despair. He calls us out of the tombs of our past and into the hope of resurrection life.

Mary Magdalene’s story shows us that God uses the unlikely, the broken, the once-bound, and the deeply devoted. And He reveals Himself to those who draw close — not because they have all the answers, but because they refuse to walk away.

So if you find yourself in a place of waiting or weeping, remember Mary.
Remember the power of staying near the One who is faithful.
And remember that resurrection is always closer than it seems.

Prayer

Lord, give me the devotion of Mary Magdalene — a heart that stays close to You, even in the darkest moments. Help me listen for Your voice, trust Your presence, and cling to the hope of Your resurrection power. Speak my name, Lord, and strengthen my faith as I walk with You. Amen.

The story of Ruth and Naomi is one of the most beautiful portraits of loyalty, faith, and sacrificial love in the entire Bible. It’s a story woven with heartbreak, loss, uncertainty, and yet woven just as tightly with hope, devotion, and divine purpose.

Ruth had every earthly reason to walk away. Widowed. Young. Far from home. No promise of a future.
And Naomi, broken by grief, urged her to leave and start a new life somewhere safe and familiar.

But Ruth did something astonishing. She looked at Naomi with fierce loyalty and said:

“Where you go, I will go; and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.”
— Ruth 1:16

In a world where relationships can feel fragile and conditional, Ruth shows us a love that holds steady when life becomes uncertain… a love that is willing to walk through difficulty, not around it.

Ruth didn’t choose the easy path. She chose the faithful one. She clung to Naomi not out of obligation, but out of devotion. And she clung to God, trusting Him even when she couldn’t see the next step.

That kind of commitment is rare. It’s sacred. And it reminds us that sometimes the greatest acts of faith are not loud or dramatic — sometimes they look like simply staying when it would be easier to leave.

Ruth teaches us:

1. Love chooses presence over convenience.

She didn’t abandon Naomi in her sorrow. She became the steady presence Naomi needed in her darkest season. Sometimes the greatest gift we can give someone is our presence — our willingness to walk with them when life hurts.

2. Commitment is an act of faith.

Ruth had no guarantee of provision, security, or blessing. But she trusted the God Naomi served, even when she didn’t know how the story would unfold. Faith often looks like stepping into the unknown with a heart wide open.

3. God writes redemption into loyalty.

Because Ruth stayed, she walked right into the plan God had for her:

A new home. A new husband, Boaz. A child who would become part of the lineage of King David…
and ultimately the lineage of Jesus Christ. Her loyalty became part of God’s redemption story.

That’s the power of faithfulness. God can turn quiet acts of devotion into legacies that outlive us.

Maybe God is calling you to a Ruth-like commitment today:

• To love someone through a hard season
  
• To stay faithful to a calling that feels uncertain
  
• To trust Him when the road ahead isn’t clear
  
• To hold onto hope when everything in you wants to walk away
  

If so, remember Ruth.

Her story began in heartbreak but ended in blessing — because she chose loyalty, love, and faith in the God who restores.

Prayer

Lord, give me the heart of Ruth — a heart that stays, that loves deeply, that walks in faith even when the road ahead is unclear. Teach me to be loyal, compassionate, and committed to the people You have placed in my life. And help me trust that You are writing redemption into every step of obedience. Amen.

(Elijah & Elisha)

There’s a moment in Scripture that takes my breath away every single time. It’s quiet, simple, and yet one of the boldest acts of faith in the Old Testament.

It’s when Elisha burned his plows.

We read in 1 Kings 19:19-21 that Elijah found Elisha working in the fields, plowing with twelve yoke of oxen. Elijah walked up, placed his mantle on Elisha’s shoulders — a symbol of calling — and without hesitation, Elisha made a life-altering decision.

He didn’t just say yes. He didn’t just follow. He burned the plows behind him.

Scripture says he slaughtered the oxen, used the wooden plows as firewood, cooked the meat, and gave it to the people. Then he left — no turning back.

Elisha didn’t keep a backup plan. He didn’t leave room for second-guessing. He didn’t say, “Let me try this for a while and see if it works.” He removed every path of retreat so he could walk fully into God’s purpose.

Sometimes, obeying God requires that kind of courage — the kind that lets go of what is familiar so we can embrace what is divine.

I think about how many times in my own life God has called me into something new — fostering children, writing books, ministering to others, beginning new seasons after deep loss. I didn’t always feel ready. I didn’t always feel equipped. But God wasn’t asking for perfection — He was asking for surrender.

And surrender often means leaving something behind.

Maybe for you it’s fear. Perhaps it’s comfort.  Perhaps it’s an old pattern, an unhealthy relationship, or a false sense of identity. Perhaps it’s the life you planned, so you can step into the life God is offering.

Elisha knew that to step into destiny, he had to release what tied him to the past. He burned what represented the old season so he could fully embrace the new one.

And that’s the beauty of this story:

When God calls you forward, He never intends for you to live halfway between who you were and who He is making you.

Elisha’s act of burning the plows wasn’t just dramatic — it was prophetic.  It declared:  “I am available. I am committed. I trust God more than I trust what is familiar. I am stepping into something greater.”

And oh, how God honored that obedience. Elisha performed twice as many miracles as Elijah.  He became one of the most powerful prophets in the Old Testament. And it all began with a single step of total surrender.

If God is calling you into a new season —  to forgive, to heal, to serve, to lead, to open your home, to let go, to begin again — don’t be afraid to burn the plows.

Don’t cling to what God is asking you to release. Don’t keep safety nets where God is calling you to walk by faith. Don’t stay in the old season when God has an anointing waiting in the new one.

God honors bold obedience. He blesses surrendered hearts. And He always meets us on the other side of “yes.”

Prayer

Lord, give me the courage of Elisha — the courage to let go of what I don’t need in the next season and to fully trust Your calling. Help me release the past, remove my backup plans, and step boldly into the future You have prepared. I want to follow You without hesitation. Amen.

There are seasons in life when everything feels like it’s fallen apart — when dreams crumble, relationships break, life doesn’t go the way you hoped, and you look around and see more ashes than beauty. In those moments, it can feel impossible to imagine anything good coming out of the mess.

But God is not intimidated by ashes. He is the One who specializes in restoration.  He is the God who brings beauty from what we thought was ruined forever.

Scripture promises this:  “He will give a crown of beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and a garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.” — Isaiah 61:3

This isn’t poetic language — it’s who God is. He rebuilds what was destroyed. He restores what was broken. He redeems what seemed lost.

If you’ve ever walked through a heartbreak, a setback, or a season where everything felt heavy, you know the ache of wondering, “God, can anything good come from this?”

And yet, over and over again, He shows us that our ashes are not the end of the story. Ashes represent what once was. Beauty represents what God can still do.

I’ve lived through seasons where life didn’t look anything like what I prayed for. Times when I felt like I was standing in the ruins of my own expectations — after a divorce, after loss, after disappointment. In those moments, I couldn’t see how God could possibly make something beautiful out of the pieces.

But He did. In His timing. In His wisdom. In His kindness.

God takes the things that were meant to destroy us and uses them to strengthen us. He takes the pain that broke us and turns it into compassion for others. He takes the chapters we thought were over and writes new ones with better endings.

Beauty from ashes doesn’t always happen overnight. Sometimes it takes time — time for healing, time for growth, time for God to shift our perspective. But even when we don’t see it yet, He is working beneath the surface.

Think of Job, whose ashes turned into restoration. Think of Joseph, whose pit became a platform. Think of Ruth, whose grief led her straight into redemption. Think of your own life — the ashes God has already turned into something beautiful.

God doesn’t waste pain. He shapes it. He doesn’t discard broken things. He restores them. He doesn’t leave us in ashes. He lifts us out.

If you’re in a season where all you can see is what fell apart, hold onto hope. Beauty is coming. Redemption is on the horizon. God is already doing a new thing, even if you can’t see it yet. He has a way of surprising us in the most tender and unexpected ways.

Give Him the ashes — the disappointments, the grief, the loss, the hurts — and trust that He will grow something beautiful where it looks impossible.

Because that is who He is. He is the God of transformation. The God of redemption.The God of beauty from ashes.

Prayer

Lord, I bring You the ashes of my life — the broken places, the hurts, the disappointments. Thank You for being the God who restores and redeems. Give me eyes to see the beauty You are creating, even when the process feels slow. I trust You with the rebuilding. Amen.

There is something deeply comforting about being known. Truly known. Not just recognized in passing or remembered for a moment, but seen, understood, and valued. And yet in a world full of noise and hurry, so many of us move through life feeling unnoticed — like our lives blend into the background, our struggles overlooked, our hearts unseen.

But God never overlooks His children. He never misses a moment. And He never forgets a name.

Scripture reminds us, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” — Isaiah 43:1

Those words are not generic. They’re personal. God calls your name. Not the name the world labels you with. Not the names people may have spoken in anger or indifference. Not the names shame tries to whisper. Your real name — the one He spoke over you before you were born.

There have been seasons in my life where I wondered if God saw me — really saw me. Moments of heartbreak. Times of disappointment. Times when the house was full of noise, responsibility, and chaos, but my heart still felt quiet and alone. And yet, even in those seasons, there was always a gentle reminder that God was near… that He had not forgotten me… that He knew my name, my needs, and my story.

God knowing your name means He knows your heart. He knows what you’re carrying. He knows what broke you, what shaped you, what lifted you, and what nearly crushed you. He knows the dreams you don’t say out loud. He knows the prayers you whisper through tears.

And He loves you — not in a distant, general way — but intimately, intentionally, and personally.

Think of Hagar, alone in the wilderness, feeling abandoned and invisible. She cried out, and God met her there. She said, “You are the God who sees me.” Her circumstances didn’t change immediately, but her heart did — because she realized she was not unnoticed.

Think of Zacchaeus — Jesus didn’t say, “Hey, you in the tree.” He called him by name.

Think of Mary Magdalene at the tomb — she didn’t recognize Jesus until He spoke one word: “Mary.”
Her name opened her eyes.

And you – He calls you by name, too.

When you feel overwhelmed… He knows your name.
When you feel overlooked… He knows your name.
When you feel unqualified, unseen, or unsure… He knows your name.
When you feel like life has shifted faster than you can keep up… He knows your name.

To be named by God is to be known deeply and loved completely.

Your identity is not found in the roles you fill or the labels placed on you. Your identity is found in the One who formed you, redeemed you, and calls you His own. You are not forgotten. You are not lost in the crowd. You are held, loved, and known.

Today, let that truth settle into the places where doubt tries to creep in. Whisper it to your own heart:

He knows my name.
He sees me.
He calls me His.

Prayer

Lord, thank You for knowing me so personally and loving me so fully. When I feel invisible, remind my heart that You see me. When I feel forgotten, whisper my name again. Help me walk in the confidence that I belong to You — known, chosen, and loved. Amen.

Waiting is one of the hardest parts of the Christian walk. We love answers. We love clarity. We love motion. But waiting? Waiting feels like stillness when we want to go forward. Like silence when we want direction. Like God is holding something back when our hearts are longing to move ahead.

And yet Scripture tells us something surprising:  “Those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.” — Isaiah 40:31

We often think waiting drains us, but God says waiting restores us.

There is something sacred about the in-between seasons — those stretches of time when nothing seems to be happening on the surface, but everything is taking shape beneath it. Like seeds hidden in the soil, much of God’s work in our lives happens long before we see any signs of growth.

Waiting is not God withholding from us. Waiting is God preparing us.

I’ve lived through seasons where I prayed, “Lord, please move… please open this door… please give me a sign.” And all I heard was quiet. I thought the delay meant God wasn’t listening. But later I understood: the delay was the answer. He was aligning things I couldn’t see, softening hearts I didn’t know needed softening, and shaping me into someone who could carry the blessing when it finally arrived.

The truth is, waiting tests our trust. Do we trust God’s timing? Do we trust His wisdom?
Do we trust that He’s working even when we can’t see a single thing shifting?

But waiting also deepens our hope — because hope has nothing to hold onto except Him.

Think about Abraham waiting for a promised child.  Joseph waiting in prison for justice. Hannah waiting through years of heartbreak. David waiting in caves for a throne he was already anointed for.

Their stories remind us: waiting is not wasted. God’s promises are not fragile. His timing is not late. What He begins, He finishes — and what He promises, He fulfills.

Sometimes we think hope means pretending everything is fine. But real hope is far stronger. Hope stands in the gap between the promise and the fulfillment and chooses to believe anyway. Hope whispers, “God is good. God is working. God has not forgotten me.”

If you’re waiting today — waiting for healing, waiting for restoration, waiting for clarity, waiting for a miracle — know this:

God is not delaying to punish you. He is preparing to bless you. He is building something in you that the promise will one day require.  He is shaping your faith so you can stand strong when the answer comes.

And when the waiting ends, you’ll understand that every tear, every prayer, every quiet morning of trust was building something deeper than the miracle itself — it was building you.

Hold onto hope, dear heart. God is moving, even now.  And the season you’re waiting for is already making its way toward you.

Prayer

Father, strengthen me while I wait. Help me trust Your timing even when I don’t understand it. Fill my heart with hope, calm my fears, and remind me that You are working in ways I cannot yet see. I place my waiting season in Your hands. Amen.

There are moments in life when a door we desperately wanted to walk through suddenly shuts. A relationship ends. A job opportunity disappears. A dream slips through our fingers. And we’re left standing in the hallway with our hands still on the doorknob, wondering what went wrong.

In those moments, it’s easy to feel abandoned or confused. But God’s closed doors are never acts of cruelty. They are acts of protection, redirection, and love.

Scripture reminds us, “The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives.” — Psalm 37:23

If God delights in the details, then He also knows when a door we want is not the door we need.

I’ve had seasons where I prayed for something with all my heart — a certain outcome, an open opportunity, stability where I felt shaky — only to find that God gently closed that door instead. At the time, it felt like a loss. But later, with clarity only time can give, I saw His hand all over it.

Some closed doors protect us from what we cannot see.  Some closed doors prevent us from settling for less than God’s best.  Some closed doors make room for the miracle we didn’t know to ask for.

One of the hardest lessons in faith is trusting God not only when He opens doors, but when He shuts them.

We love open doors — they feel like answered prayers and forward motion. But closed doors? Those require surrender. Trust. Patience.  Closed doors teach us how to lean into God instead of our own understanding.

And here’s the truth: God never closes a door without already having a better plan prepared.

Not a backup plan.
Not a “maybe this will work instead” plan.
A better plan — one aligned with His wisdom, His timing, and His love for us.

Sometimes the hallway between closed doors and open ones can feel long. Lonely. Quiet. But hallways are not punishment — they’re preparation. In those in-between places, God is shaping us, strengthening us, and aligning things for the next chapter.

Think of Joseph — sold, betrayed, falsely accused. Door after door closed painfully. But every “no” was leading him to a divine “yes.” A seat of influence. A preserved family. A fulfilled purpose.

Think of Paul, who prayed for doors to open in certain regions, and God said “no,” only to eventually lead him to Macedonia, where a great revival broke out.

And think of your own life — the doors you’re grateful today that God shut. Because walking through them might have taken you away from the people, the purpose, and the peace God wanted for you.

If you’re standing in front of a closed door today, don’t panic. Don’t assume God has forgotten you. He’s guiding you. He’s protecting you. He’s working behind the scenes in ways you cannot imagine.

Walk away from the door with confidence, not defeat. Lift your eyes.  Breathe in hope. God is the One who opens doors no person can shut — and shuts doors no person can pry open.

The right one is coming.  And when it swings open, you’ll understand why all the others had to close.

Prayer

Lord, help me trust You when a door closes. Remind me that You are guiding my steps with love and purpose. Give me peace in the hallway and faith to believe that the door You open next will be far better than anything I could have planned. Amen.

Gratitude is one of the simplest spiritual practices, yet it has the power to transform the way we see everything. It shifts our eyes from what is missing to what God has faithfully provided. It softens anxious thoughts and steadies the heart. It reminds us that even on the hardest days, God’s goodness has never left us.

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:18

We often skim this verse and assume God is asking us to be thankful for all circumstances — but that’s not what it says. He asks us to give thanks in all circumstances. Gratitude doesn’t deny the pain or pretend everything is perfect. Instead, it illuminates the presence of God right in the middle of whatever we’re walking through.

I think of seasons in my life when gratitude felt like a choice rather than an emotion — moments when circumstances weren’t what I hoped for, when my heart was tired, or when the future felt uncertain. Yet even then, God gave me small reminders of His faithfulness: a child’s laughter, a sunrise, a kind word, the peace that settles the soul when we whisper, “Lord, I trust You.”

Gratitude turns those moments into altars — places in our hearts where we stop and remember, He’s been good to me.

When my life took unexpected turns — when dreams I once held dear slipped through my hands — gratitude became a lifeline. I learned that thankfulness isn’t something we feel only when everything goes right. Gratitude is an anchor we hold when the winds blow hard. It’s choosing to say, “Lord, You’re still worthy. You’re still faithful. You’re still here.”

Gratitude doesn’t erase sorrow, but it reframes it. It reminds us that God has been present in every chapter — the joyful ones and the ones that stretched us thin. I’ve learned to thank Him not just for the blessings I can see but also for the protection, redirection, and mercy I never even knew I needed.

And the beautiful thing? Gratitude grows. The more we practice it, the more our eyes begin to see God’s fingerprints everywhere — in the ordinary, the overlooked, the quiet. It changes the posture of our hearts.

Life may not always look the way we hope, but there is always, always something to thank God for. Even breath in our lungs is a gift. The people we love are a gift. Healing is a gift. Growth is a gift. Grace — oh, that is a gift beyond measure.

Today, pause for a moment and say, “Thank You, Lord.”
Not because everything is perfect, but because He is.

Prayer

Father, open my eyes to see Your goodness all around me. Teach me to cultivate a grateful heart — not only in joyful moments, but also in hard ones. Help me remember that gratitude draws me closer to You and reminds me of Your faithfulness in every season. Amen.