Joy in the Waiting
Scripture:
“Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.” — Psalm 27:14 (NIV)
Waiting can be one of the hardest parts of faith.
We pray, we hope, we believe — and yet days turn into months, and sometimes months into years. We start to wonder if God has forgotten, if maybe His plan got delayed, or if we heard Him wrong.
But God is never late. His timing may be different than ours, but it’s always right on time.
In Psalm 27:14, David writes:
“Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”
— Psalm 27:14 (NIV)
Notice that David doesn’t just say wait — he says be strong and take heart while you wait. That means waiting isn’t passive; it’s an act of courage. It’s choosing to trust when you can’t yet see, to praise when you don’t yet have the answer, and to believe that God is working behind the scenes even in the silence.
Every story of faith includes a season of waiting:
Abraham waited for a promise.
Hannah waited for a child.
Joseph waited in prison.
Esther waited for the right moment to speak.
And through each delay, God shaped hearts, built character, and prepared blessings beyond what they could imagine.
Joy in the waiting doesn’t come from getting what we want — it comes from knowing who we’re waiting on.
When you trust that the Author of time is holding your story, you can rest. The waiting becomes sacred — a place where faith deepens, peace grows, and joy quietly blooms, even before the answer arrives.
So, hold on, dear heart. What you’re waiting for may not come overnight, but joy can. Because God is already here — even in the waiting.
Prayer:
Lord, teach me to wait with peace and purpose. When impatience rises, remind me that You are working in ways I cannot see. Help me find joy in Your presence today, knowing that every delay has meaning in Your perfect plan. Amen.
Lift Up Your Eyes
Scripture:
“My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” — Psalm 121:2
There are times when life pulls our gaze downward — to problems that feel heavy, burdens that weigh on our hearts, and situations that seem impossible to fix. We stare at what’s broken, what’s missing, what’s lost, and forget to look up.
But the psalmist reminds us where our help truly comes from:
“I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.”
— Psalm 121:1–2 (NIV)
When we lift our eyes, we shift our focus. The mountain that once looked overwhelming becomes smaller when we remember who made it. The problems that seemed impossible start to shrink in the light of His power.
It’s not that our circumstances vanish — it’s that our perspective changes. We stop seeing through fear and start seeing through faith.
David, who wrote many of the psalms, knew what it was to face danger and despair. But even in the wilderness, he looked up. He knew that the same God who set the stars in place was guiding his every step.
When your heart feels weary and your strength fades, look up. Look beyond the noise, beyond the deadlines, beyond the diagnosis. The same God who paints the sunrise and holds the galaxies holds you.
He is your keeper, your shade, your help, your refuge. He does not slumber or sleep. And He never takes His eyes off you.
So today, lift up your eyes. Not to the storm. Not to the struggle. But to the Savior who never fails.
Prayer:
Father, lift my eyes from what worries me to the One who watches over me. Remind me that my help comes from You — not from my strength but Your steadfast love. Teach me to keep my gaze on Your goodness, and to walk forward with faith. Amen.
The God Who Calms the Storm
Scripture:
“He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind died down, and it was completely calm.” — Mark 4:39
There are seasons when the winds howl and the waves rise higher than we can bear. We find ourselves amid storms we never saw coming — illness, loss, broken relationships, uncertainty, fear. The boat rocks, and it feels like we’re about to sink.
That’s exactly how the disciples felt in Mark 4. They were experienced fishermen, yet even they panicked when a fierce storm came upon the lake. Waves crashed over the boat’s sides while Jesus slept peacefully in the stern. In their fear, they woke Him and cried out, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”
“He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind died down, and it was completely calm.”
— Mark 4:39 (NIV)
What a moment — the same voice that spoke creation into existence now speaks peace into chaos. The wind knows His name. The sea obeys His command.
Sometimes we want Jesus to stop the storm immediately, but often He stills our hearts before He stills the waves. The miracle is not only in the calming of the sea, but in His presence with us through it.
Maybe you’re in a storm right now — circumstances spinning out of control, prayers unanswered, fears rising. You can take comfort in this: Jesus is in your boat. He has not abandoned you. And even when it feels like He’s silent, He’s still in control.
One word from Him can calm what’s raging around you. But even if the storm continues, His peace — the kind that passes all understanding — will anchor you until it’s over.
When the winds howl, whisper His name. He’s still the God who says, “Peace. Be still.”
Prayer:
Lord, thank You for being the calm in the middle of my storm. When I’m afraid, help me remember that You never leave my side. Speak peace into my heart and still the fear within me. I trust that You are greater than the wind and waves. In Your name, Amen.
When the Brook Dries Up
Scripture:
“But after a while, the brook dried up because there was no rain in the land.” — 1 Kings 17:7 (NLT)
Sometimes the places that once sustained us stop flowing.
The job that once brought purpose feels empty.
The friendship that once felt safe grows distant.
The season that once provided comfort suddenly shifts — and we find ourselves staring at a dry brook, wondering what went wrong.
In 1 Kings 17, after Elijah declared a drought over Israel, God sent him to the brook Cherith. There, Elijah drank from the water and was fed by ravens — daily evidence of God’s miraculous care. But then Scripture says something startling:
“But after a while, the brook dried up because there was no rain in the land.”
— 1 Kings 17:7 (NLT)
Can you imagine how Elijah must have felt? He had obeyed every instruction God gave him, yet the water still ran out. What Elijah couldn’t see was that the dried brook was not a sign of God’s absence — it was the beginning of God’s next assignment.
When the brook dried up, the Word of the Lord came again, sending him to Zarephath, where the widow and her never-ending oil awaited. The dried brook became the doorway to the next miracle.
Sometimes God allows a brook to dry up to move us forward. We cling to comfort, but He calls us to trust. What once sustained you was meant for a season, not forever. The same God who provided there will provide here, in new ways you couldn’t imagine.
So if something in your life has stopped flowing, don’t despair. God may be redirecting your provision — not removing it.
Prayer:
Father, thank You for reminding me that a dried brook doesn’t mean You’ve forgotten me. When things change and resources fade, help me trust that You are leading me to the next place of blessing. Give me courage to move when You say move, and faith to believe that Your provision never ends. Amen.
Running Toward the Giant
Scripture:
“You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty.” — 1 Samuel 17:45 (NIV)
Sometimes the giants in our lives seem impossible to face. They tower over us — fear, doubt, grief, rejection, addiction, financial strain, or broken relationships. We look at them and feel small, unequipped, and outmatched. But David shows us that victory doesn’t come from our own strength — it comes from the power of the God who goes before us.
When the young shepherd boy stood before Goliath, he didn’t have a sword, a shield, or a soldier’s training. All he carried was a sling, five smooth stones, and unshakable faith. While others cowered in fear, David ran toward the giant.
“You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty — the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied.”
— 1 Samuel 17:45 (NIV)
That’s not just a story of bravery — it’s a declaration of where real power lies.
David didn’t run because he was fearless; he ran because his faith was greater than his fear. He wasn’t trusting his aim — he was trusting his God.
Each of us faces moments when we have to choose: will we shrink back, or will we step forward in the name of the Lord? When we remember who fights for us, the size of the giant no longer matters.
Faith doesn’t deny the presence of the giant — it declares that God is bigger.
So, when life shouts its threats and you feel outnumbered, take heart. Pick up your stone of faith, lift your eyes to heaven, and run toward the battle in Jesus’ name. The same God who empowered David stands with you now. The battle has always belonged to Him.
Prayer:
Lord, thank You for reminding me that You are greater than any giant I will ever face. Help me to run toward my battles with courage, trusting in Your power and not my own. Let my life declare Your strength and victory. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
For Such a Time as This
Scripture:
“And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” — Esther 4:14 (ESV)
There are moments in life when God positions us—quietly, purposefully—in places we never expected to be. We might not understand why we’re there, or why the path to this point was so winding, but in His sovereignty, God is always weaving a plan far greater than our own.
Esther knew that feeling well.
A young Jewish woman, orphaned and living in exile, she never could have imagined becoming queen of Persia. Yet, in a turn of divine providence, God placed her right where she needed to be—“for such a time as this.”
When Esther learned of Haman’s plan to destroy her people, she faced an impossible choice: remain silent and safe, or risk everything to speak up. Her cousin Mordecai’s words echoed through history:
“And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” — Esther 4:14 (ESV)
Those same words still whisper to us today.
You may not wear a crown, but you carry influence. You may not stand before a king, but your voice matters in the places God has planted you—your home, your community, your work, your circle of friends.
There will be moments when God calls you to speak truth, to show courage, or to act in faith. You might not feel ready, but He equips those He calls. Esther didn’t feel prepared either, but she fasted, prayed, and trusted that God would go before her—and He did.
Maybe you’ve walked through loss, change, or unexpected challenges that left you wondering why now? why here?
Remember this: you are not here by accident. Every part of your story has prepared you for this season.
God doesn’t waste pain. He doesn’t misplace people. He appoints them.
You are right where you need to be—for such a time as this.
Prayer:
Lord, thank You for placing me exactly where You want me to be. Help me see my circumstances through Your eyes. Give me courage to speak truth, wisdom to act with grace, and faith to trust that You are working behind the scenes. Use me, Lord, for such a time as this. Amen.
When You Feel Unseen
Scripture:
“You are the God who sees me.” — Genesis 16:13
There are moments in life when we feel invisible—when our efforts go unnoticed, our hearts feel unheard, and our prayers seem to echo in silence. We show up, we give, we serve, and yet it feels as though no one truly sees us. Those are tender, difficult moments—the ones that make us question if what we’re doing really matters.
But the truth is, God sees you.
He sees the quiet sacrifices you make that no one thanks you for.
He sees the tears you hide behind a smile.
He sees the long nights you’ve prayed for your children, family, and future.
He sees you when you feel forgotten by others—because He never forgets.
In Genesis 16, Hagar fled into the wilderness, wounded and alone. She was mistreated, rejected, and pregnant, with nowhere to go. But the Lord found her by a spring of water and spoke life and promise over her. In that moment, she gave God a name: El Roi — “The God who sees me.”
Sometimes, we need to remember that same truth. God’s eyes are not just on the world in general; they are on you. He doesn’t overlook your pain, obedience, or faithfulness in the small things. When the world forgets your name, God whispers it tenderly.
So, when you feel unseen, take heart. You are fully known and deeply loved by the One who created you. You are seen in the secret place, and nothing about your journey escapes His notice. Keep walking faithfully. The God who sees will reward what is done in quiet with a glory that shines in His time.
Prayer:
Lord, thank You for seeing me when no one else does. Help me remember that my worth isn’t measured by recognition but by Your love. Let me find peace and purpose in Your presence, even when I feel hidden from the world. Teach me to rest in the assurance that You see, You know, and You care. Amen.
Faith in Fire
Faith is easy when the sky is clear and everything feels secure. But the real test of faith comes when the winds shift — when the doctor calls, when the child drifts away, when the job ends, when prayers seem unanswered. That’s where faith either fades… or is forged into something unshakable.
In 1 Peter 1:7, we read, “These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold.” Fire refines. It removes what’s temporary and reveals what’s eternal. And though it burns, it blesses too — because what remains after the fire is something pure, strong, and true.
Think of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in Daniel 3. They refused to bow to the king’s idol, even when threatened with a fiery furnace. Their faith wasn’t dependent on the outcome. They said, “The God we serve is able to deliver us… but even if He does not, we will not bow.”
That’s faith in the fire — not confidence that everything will go our way, but conviction that God is still worthy, no matter what happens.
Every believer will walk through fire at some point. It may be the fire of loss, heartbreak, betrayal, or fear. We pray for deliverance, but sometimes God’s greatest miracle isn’t taking us out of the fire — it’s joining us in it. Just as the king looked into the furnace and saw four men instead of three, God’s presence is most visible in our hardest moments.
I remember seasons of my own life when I felt consumed by the flames — when grief, uncertainty, or exhaustion made me question if I’d make it through. But every time, I found that God was already in the fire, holding me steady, shaping me quietly, turning what felt like destruction into a deeper dependence on Him.
Faith in the fire changes us. It burns away fear, pride, and self-reliance. It teaches us to let go of control and hold on to God’s promises instead. It turns our “Why me?” into “What now, Lord?” And it makes our testimony stronger, our compassion deeper, and our purpose clearer.
So if you find yourself in the fire today, don’t panic. Don’t assume you’re alone. Look closer — the fourth figure is there. His presence doesn’t always remove the heat, but it always ensures the flame won’t consume you.
The same God who walked in the furnace walks beside you now. You’ll come out changed — glowing with the kind of faith that only the fire can create.
Prayer
Lord, when life feels like a furnace, help me to trust that You are with me in the flames. Teach me not to fear the fire but to let it refine me. Burn away everything that keeps me from fully trusting You, and make my faith pure and strong. Let my trials become my testimony. Amen.
Finding God in Everyday Moments
Scripture:
“Be still, and know that I am God.” – Psalm 46:10
We often look for God in the extraordinary — in miracles, answers to prayers, or the moments that take our breath away. But more often than not, He reveals Himself in the quiet, everyday places: the warmth of morning light, the sound of laughter in another room, or a simple act of love that appears out of nowhere.
The other day, I walked into my room and found a small note resting on my pillow. It was from one of my foster children. In crayon, they had drawn sunshine, butterflies, and birds in trees. In the center were the words, “I love you, Nonie.”
I just stood there for a moment, overwhelmed. This child has come from a place of deep darkness — a life that had known fear, loss, and uncertainty. And yet, here was this note, filled with color and light. I thought of how faithful God is — how He brings beauty out of brokenness, and how He can transform even the heaviest past into something full of hope.
In that simple drawing, I saw the hand of God. I saw healing. I saw what it means when Scripture says He makes all things new. That little piece of paper reminded me that God is always near, showing Himself in ways we might overlook — through the joy of a child, a quiet moment of gratitude, or a heart finally learning to feel safe again.
Sometimes, finding God isn’t about seeing something spectacular — it’s about slowing down long enough to notice His fingerprints on the ordinary. When we pause, we realize He’s been there all along — in the sunshine, in the laughter, in the whispered “I love you.”
Prayer:
Lord, open my eyes to see You in the small, everyday moments. Help me to recognize Your presence in the simple gifts — a child’s laughter, a note of love, a quiet morning. Thank You for bringing light into the dark places of our lives and for reminding us that You are always near. Amen.
Planted, Not Buried
There are seasons in life when everything feels dark and hidden. The dreams we once held close seem to fade. Prayers go unanswered. Opportunities slip away. We look around and wonder, “Lord, what happened?” It can feel like we’ve been buried — pushed down, covered over, forgotten.
But what if we haven’t been buried? What if we’ve been planted?
Jesus said, “Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” — John 12:24
A seed doesn’t grow on the surface. It grows in the soil — in the dark, in the waiting, in the unseen places. When it’s first covered by dirt, it looks like the end. But beneath that surface, something sacred is happening. Roots begin to stretch down, life begins to stir, and before long, a shoot breaks through into the light.
I’ve had times in my life when I’ve felt like that seed — hidden, uncertain, waiting for God to show me why things had to happen the way they did. But as the years have gone by, I’ve learned that the dark seasons are not wasted seasons. They are often the most transformative ones.
When I was walking through pain, disappointment, or loss, I didn’t always understand what God was doing. I just knew it was hard. Yet looking back, I can see how He was strengthening my roots — deepening my faith, humbling my heart, and preparing me for something new. The very moments that felt like endings were often beginnings in disguise.
The difference between being buried and being planted is purpose. A buried seed is forgotten. A planted seed is expected to grow. And friend, God has not forgotten you. You’ve been planted with purpose.
Maybe you’re in a season of darkness right now. Maybe it feels like you’ve been pushed down by life’s weight — grief, rejection, change, or uncertainty. Take heart. God is at work beneath the surface. What feels like isolation may actually be preparation. What feels like loss may be the very soil where new life begins.
In time, what’s been planted will rise. The waiting will give way to growth, and the sorrow will turn to joy. You’ll look back and realize that God never buried you — He was planting something extraordinary within you all along.
Prayer:
Father, thank You for reminding me that I am planted, not buried. When I can’t see what You’re doing, help me to trust that You are growing something beautiful in me. Strengthen my roots in faith and hope, and give me patience in the waiting. Amen.
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