moving

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.
- Galatians 6:9 (NIV)
 
We spent this past weekend helping our youngest son and his family move to a new home in a new city.
And when I say move, I mean MOVE. A moving van. A truck with a trailer. A Bronco with a trailer. Three SUVs. Two trips between two cities and two houses about twelve miles apart. We packed, loaded, hauled, unloaded, and cleaned for sixteen hours—on the hottest day of the year. By the time we finally dropped into bed, every muscle seemed to have an opinion about how we'd spent the day. And the next morning? Time to unpack. But here's the thing: I'd do it all over again. Because those sore muscles came with something pretty wonderful—our kids and grandkids are closer to us now.
Galatians tells us not to become weary in doing good. I usually think about that spiritually: serving, ministering, helping others, doing the things God calls us to do. But maybe it applies to ordinary days, too.
Sometimes doing something good is exhausting. Sometimes love looks like carrying another box when your arms already hurt. Sometimes serving someone means giving up your comfortable Saturday. Sometimes the blessing doesn't make the work easier—it simply makes the work worth it.
We are going to get tired in this life. Maybe the better question is whether we're getting tired doing something that matters. Because some things are simply worth being tired for.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible

church

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.
- Hebrews 10:24–25 (NIV)
 
For the past couple of years, we have been searching for a church home. You would think finding a church would be easy. There are churches everywhere! But finding a place where you feel like you can truly belong? That's been harder than I expected.
We don't want a mega church or one with so many satellite locations that we're never quite sure where the pastor is. We want something small enough to build relationships, but large enough to have different ages, activities, and interests. We want sound teaching, belief in the Trinity, communion, and worship music that speaks to us. We want opportunities to be involved without feeling like we need to be at church every night of the week. Apparently, we have a list.
I don't think there's anything wrong with knowing what we're looking for. Where we worship matters. What a church teaches matters. The people we surround ourselves with matter. But I've also realized something during this search: God can't connect us to a church community if we never stay long enough to become part of one.
Hebrews reminds us not to give up meeting together, but to encourage one another and spur one another toward love and good works.
Maybe sometimes we're so busy looking for the place that checks every box that we forget why we're looking in the first place.
We're looking for a place to worship God. A place to learn, to encourage others and be encouraged. A place to serve and a place to show up.
The perfect church probably doesn't exist. And if it did, the minute all of us imperfect people walked through the door, we'd ruin it anyway. So maybe the question isn't, “Does this church have everything we're looking for?”
Maybe it's simply: “Can we grow closer to God here?”
If the answer is yes, maybe that's enough reason to keep showing up.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible

there

 You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.
- Matthew 5:14 (NKJV)
 
We all have a there - that place in our story we can point back to and say, that changed me.
Sometimes there is an actual place, sometimes it's a season. Sometimes it's a hospital room, a job we lost, a relationship that changed, a decision we didn't want to make, a prayer that seemed unanswered, or a road we never expected to travel. Sometimes there is simply the moment when life became divided into before and after.
This week, we've talked about a lot of different places. There was a café table where something as simple as Smarties and high-fives became a fifteen-year legacy of kindness.
There was a boat in a storm, headed for the other side, there were frightened disciples wondering if Jesus even heard them. There were fears, doubts and lies that needed to be called by their real names. There was a shoreline most people probably would have avoided and a man everyone else had given up on.
And there was a family in Iowa packing up everything they knew and moving to Arkansas without any idea what God had waiting for them there.
Different stories, different places, different "theres".
But God was present in every one of them.
I've lived long enough now to have quite a collection of "theres" of my own. There are places I never would have chosen to go and seasons I certainly wouldn't volunteer to repeat. There have been moments when I've been afraid, times when plans fell apart, when I couldn't understand why God was allowing something to happen. Times when the only prayer I could manage was some version of, God, are You there?
And looking back, I can answer that question differently now.
Yes. He was there. He was there when I understood what He was doing, and He was there when I didn't.
He was there in the prayers that were answered the way I hoped, and He was there when the answer looked nothing like what I wanted.
He was there when the road was easy and He was there when getting to the other side meant going straight through a storm.
He heard me there.
He met me there.
And He changed me there.
Maybe that's why Jesus' words in Matthew 5:14 matter so much: “You are the light of the world.”
Light isn't particularly noticeable when everything around it is already bright, we notice light when things get dark.
And maybe some of the places where we once wondered where God was are the very places He was preparing us to carry His light.
Think about the man Jesus freed in Mark chapter 5. Yesterday we talked about how he wanted to leave with Jesus, but Jesus told him to stay and tell people what the Lord had done for him. His "there" became part of his testimony.
So did mine.
And so can yours.
Maybe you've walked through grief, and now you recognize it in someone else's eyes.
Maybe you've struggled financially, and now you understand the fear someone else is carrying.
Maybe you've battled insecurity, addiction, loneliness, illness, disappointment or fear.
Maybe you've had to start over.
Maybe you've watched a plan you were certain about completely fall apart.
Maybe you've found yourself somewhere you never intended to be.
And maybe you wondered if God heard you there.
He did.
But what if He didn't bring you through your there simply so you could put it behind you?
What if somebody else needs the light you learned to carry in that darkness?
What if the encouragement you can offer today comes from the comfort God gave you yesterday?
What if the person standing in front of you needs to hear, I've been there. Let me tell you what God did.
We don't have to have all the answers.
We don't have to have a perfect testimony tied up with a beautiful little bow.
We simply have to be willing to let God use our story.
Because our stories aren't supposed to stop with us.
The kindness we receive can become kindness we give away.
The storms we survive can teach us how to trust.
The fears we name can remind us Who is greater.
And the places God brings us through can become the places from which we tell somebody else what He has done.
Maybe that's what being a light looks like. Not standing above someone and shouting directions, but standing beside them and saying, I know this place. I've had a “there,” too. And Jesus met me there.
So as this week comes to a close, I have one question:
Where is your there?
The place where you wondered whether God heard you. The season when you were afraid. The thing you thought might break you. The place you never expected to find yourself. Don't be ashamed of your there. Don't assume God wasted it. And don't hide the light He gave you while you were walking through it.
Wherever your “there” is, He heard you there. He met you there. And He can use what happened there to shine His light through you here.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible

story time

As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had been demon possessed begged to go with Him. But Jesus said, “No, go home to your family, and tell them everything the Lord has done for you and how merciful He has been.”
- Mark 5:18–19
 
There's a moment near the end of Mark 5 that I think is easy to read right past. Jesus has just done something incredible. He meets a man whose life has been completely overtaken by evil. The man has been living among the tombs, isolated from everyone around him. People are afraid of him. He's hurting himself. He's uncontrollable. His life, by every human measure, seems hopeless.
Then Jesus comes and everything changes. By the time the people from town arrive, they find this man sitting there, dressed and in his right mind.
Can you imagine? After everything he'd been through, the man wants to leave with Jesus. That seems like a perfectly reasonable response to me.
Jesus, You saved me. You changed my life. Wherever You're going, I'm coming with You.
But Jesus tells him no. Instead, He tells the man to go home to his family and tell them everything the Lord has done for him.
In other words: Stay here. Tell your story. The place that held some of his worst memories became his mission field.
I've thought about that a lot because sometimes the place God wants us isn't necessarily the place we would choose for ourselves.
In 2002, we left Iowa. At the time, it sure didn't feel like a good choice or a good decision. It felt like we had simply run out of options. The company Randy and I worked for was going through serious downsizing, and both of us had been impacted. We had three kids, a load of debt and an opportunity to pick up everything we owned and move to Arkansas. There was just one little problem. I didn't want to go. At all. Our family was in Iowa. Our friends were in Iowa. Our lives were in Iowa. Arkansas was a place we'd never lived, and we didn't know anyone there. Leaving was the last thing I wanted to do. I cried for weeks.
Looking back now, I can see something I couldn't see then.
God knew what was waiting for us in Arkansas. He knew the people we hadn't met yet. He knew the friendships that hadn't been formed yet. He knew the opportunities that hadn't happened yet. He knew the lives that would eventually intersect with ours—and the people who would make a difference in our lives, too.
Twenty-four years later, I can tell you that moving to Arkansas was the right thing to do. I couldn't possibly list all the reasons. Honestly, it would probably fill a book. But I can tell you this:
We have made connections and been given opportunities to make a difference in people's lives that never would have happened if we'd stayed in Iowa. And there are people who have changed our lives whom we never would have known. I couldn't see any of that while I was crying about leaving home. I could only see what I was losing. God could see where we were going.
Maybe that's part of what makes the story in Mark 5 so powerful. The man knew what Jesus had rescued him from. Jesus knew what He was sending him to. And his story didn't belong only to him. There were people who needed to hear what Jesus had done.
The same is true for us.
We all have chapters we wouldn't have chosen. Places we didn't want to go. Circumstances we didn't understand. Seasons when all we could see was what we were losing, what had gone wrong or what we wished had happened differently. But sometimes, years later, we get the privilege of looking back and seeing God's fingerprints all over a chapter that once looked like a disaster.
And then we have a story to tell. Not a story about how perfectly everything worked out. A story about what God did.
That's what Jesus told the man to share. Not theology he hadn't studied, not answers to every question. Simply "Tell them what the Lord has done for you".
We can do that.
Maybe sometimes God brings us out of a there—and then uses our story to reach somebody who is still there.
Maybe someone needs to know that the season they're crying through today won't necessarily look the same when they look back on it years from now. Maybe someone needs to hear that losing what was familiar doesn't mean God has forgotten them.
Maybe someone simply needs to hear: I've been there, I didn't understand it either, but let me tell you what God did.
Your story isn't only about where you've been. It may become part of the way God helps someone else get where they're going.
Your story doesn't stop with you.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible 

name it

You are of God, little children, and have overcome them, because He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.
- 1 John 4:4 (NKJV)
 
We name things because knowing what something is helps us know what to do about it.
If the check-engine light comes on, we don't fix the problem by putting tape over the light. We find out what's causing it.
If something hurts, we want to know why.
If there's a strange noise coming from the motorcycle, we don't just turn the radio up louder. Well...maybe some people do. But eventually, we have to figure out what's making the noise.
Because ignoring something doesn't make it disappear.
And sometimes the things we need to name aren't mechanical or physical. Sometimes they're the things happening inside us.
I am a worrier. I can take one little thing and, given enough time, turn it into seventeen different scenarios in my head—and sixteen of them end badly. I like to tell myself I'm just thinking ahead. I'm being prepared. I'm considering all the possibilities. And sometimes I am. But sometimes I need to call it what it really is.
Fear.
There's something powerful about naming what we're actually dealing with. Not because naming it gives it more power, but because it stops us from allowing it to hide behind something else.
Sometimes “I'm just being realistic” is doubt.
Sometimes “that's just how I am” is an excuse for something God is asking us to change.
Sometimes “what if...” is fear.
Sometimes “nobody will ever know” is temptation.
Sometimes “I'm not good enough” is a lie.
We can dress those things up with nicer names. We can justify them. Ignore them. Distract ourselves from them. But eventually, just like that strange noise coming from the motorcycle, we have to figure out what's really going on.
And naming something isn't admitting defeat. It's actually refusing to let it hide behind another name.
Yesterday, we left the disciples in a boat headed for the other side. The storm was real. The waves were real. Their fear was real.
But so was Jesus.
And I think that's important.
Following Jesus doesn't require us to pretend the hard things aren't hard. Faith doesn't mean we never feel afraid, never struggle, never doubt or never face temptation. We can be honest about what's happening.
I'm afraid, I'm struggling, I'm doubting, I'm tempted, I'm believing something about myself that God never said about me.
We can name it.
But 1 John 4:4 reminds us that none of those things gets the final word. Because once we've named what's fighting for our attention, we can name something much more important:
Greater is the One who lives in me.
Greater than my fear, my doubt, my temptation. Greater than my insecurity, greater than every lie trying to convince me that I am facing this alone.
And notice what the verse doesn't say. God isn't greater if I pray hard enough. He isn't greater once I finally get myself together. He isn't greater when I stop being afraid.
He is greater. Right now.
Maybe that's what somebody needs to remember today.
You don't have to pretend the battle isn't real in order to have faith. You don't have to call fear “being cautious,” doubt “being realistic,” or insecurity “just who I am.”
Bring it into the light, name it. Name the fear, the doubt, the temptation, the insecurity, the lie.
But don't stop there.
Name Jesus.
Because whatever you're facing today may be bigger than you.
But it isn't bigger than the One living in you.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible

the other side

As evening came, Jesus said to his disciples, “Let’s cross to the other side of the lake.”
- Mark 4:35 (NLT)
 
I LOVE the phrase “the other side.”
Jesus didn't tell them, “Let's go out into the storm.” He said, “Let's cross to the other side.”
The storm happened on the way - that's a huge distinction.
Sometimes God calls us somewhere we've never been before. We say yes, expecting that obedience should somehow make the journey easier—and then suddenly we're in the middle of a storm thinking, Wait a minute. Didn't Jesus tell me to come this way?
Yes.
And He's still in the boat.
The disciples panicked because Jesus was asleep. Don't You care? Don't You see this? Don't You hear us?
I think sometimes we do the same thing. Especially when we have been given direction but we're pretty sure our plan would work better.
We have a fifth-wheel RV that is nearly forty feet long. For the record, I do NOT drive the truck while we're pulling the RV. But I have very seriously considered buying us the matching keychains that say, “I'm sorry for what I said while we were parking the RV.” Because apparently nothing tests a marriage quite like trying to back forty feet of recreational vehicle into a campsite. My job is usually to stand outside and help guide my wonderful husband into the spot. I'm watching the back of the RV, the trees, the picnic table, the hookups, whatever happens to be nearby, while trying to tell him which direction that enormous thing needs to go. And somehow my helpful directions don't always sound quite as helpful from inside the truck. He gets frustrated because he doesn't understand what I'm trying to tell him. I get frustrated because I don't think he's listening to what I'm trying to tell him. So finally I decided I was going to show him. Fine. You tell ME which way to turn the wheels and I'll park it. After a little scoffing—and probably wondering how much our insurance deductible was—he let me climb behind the wheel. And together, we parked it. I've done that exactly twice since we've owned the RV. Turns out, it really IS a lot harder than it looks. Standing outside, I could see exactly where the RV needed to go. From behind the wheel, everything looked different. The truck was turning one direction, the RV was moving another, and every instinct I had seemed to tell me to turn the wheel the opposite direction from where Randy was telling me to turn it. I had to trust the person outside the truck who could see what I couldn't.
There's a lesson in there somewhere.
How many times have we done that with God?
He gives us direction, and we start moving. Then things don't go the way we expected. This can't be right.
Surely I should be going the other direction. God, are You seeing what I'm seeing? Are You even listening?
That's essentially what the disciples were asking Jesus in that boat. The storm was raging. Waves were coming over the sides. They were afraid, and Jesus was sleeping. But Jesus hadn't forgotten where they were going. He had already told them. The other side. They just didn't know what they were going to encounter between here and there.
Neither do we.
Sometimes following God's direction doesn't make sense from where we're sitting. We can't see everything He sees. We may be trying desperately to steer our lives in the direction that feels right while God is saying, Trust Me. Keep going.
And sometimes we're so focused on the storm around us—or the forty-foot RV behind us—that we forget Who is giving the directions.
The disciples eventually reached the other side. Not because there wasn't a storm. Not because they navigated everything perfectly. But because Jesus was with them through it.
The presence of a storm doesn't mean you misunderstood God's direction.
Sometimes the storm is simply between where you are and the other side.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible

smarties

Kind words are like honey — sweet to the soul and healthy for the body.
- Proverbs 16:24
 
My father-in-law is known around town by a couple of different names. Some people call him “Mr. Smartie.” Others simply call him “The Candy Man.” And he's earned both names honestly. For at least fifteen years, my father-in-law has carried Smarties around to give to kids—and sometimes adults. There's really only one requirement for the kids: you've got to pay for your Smarties with a high-five.
Over the years, it has become part of who he is. Kids know that if they see him sitting at his table at the café, there's a pretty good chance he has Smarties in his pocket. They'll run over to see him. Some kids even come running to the front door when they know he's home. His little tradition became so well known that years ago the local newspaper wrote a story about him.
But apparently, when you're Mr. Smartie, buying candy by the little bag at the grocery store eventually becomes impractical. So, for Christmas in 2023, Randy and I decided to make sure Dad was properly supplied. We went online and found a 40-pound box of Smarties. - that's 2,235 rolls. We figured that ought to hold him for a while. And it did - almost two years, in fact.
Toward the end of 2025, Dad finally started running out, so naturally, we knew what he needed for Christmas.
Another 40-pound box of Smarties.
When Randy went to the Smarties website to place the order, though, he noticed a link that said something like, “Tell us your Smarties story.”
Well... we have a Smarties story.
So Randy told them about his dad. He told them about the years of handing out candy and high-fives. He told them about the newspaper article and even sent them a copy. He told them about the enormous box we'd given Dad a couple of years earlier. Then Randy placed our order for another 40-pound box.
When we arrived in Iowa with Dad's Christmas present, however, we discovered that the folks at Smarties had apparently decided The Candy Man needed a little Christmas present from them, too. They sent him two two-pound bags of Smarties. A Smarties hat. And—wait for it—
another 40-pound box of Smarties.
Between the box we bought and the box Smarties sent him, Dad now has enough candy to keep the high-five business operating for somewhere around four years.
That's a LOT of Smarties.
But here's what I love about this story.
None of it started with 40-pound boxes of candy. It started with one man putting a few rolls of Smarties in his pocket because he enjoyed making kids smile.
One piece of candy, one child, one high-five, one smile.
And then he did it again, and again - for more than fifteen years.
Proverbs 16:24 says, “Kind words are like honey—sweet to the soul and healthy for the body.”
There's something about sweetness that goes far beyond what we taste.
A kind word can be sweet.
Being noticed can be sweet.
Knowing somebody is happy to see you can be sweet.
And sometimes kindness looks like a little roll of candy held out in exchange for a high-five.
The Smarties are long gone a few minutes later. But those kids know The Candy Man. They know which table to run toward at the café. They know which front door to run to when he's home. And I don't think they're only running toward the candy.
They're running toward someone who is always happy to see them. That's what really gets me. We spend so much time wondering how we can make a difference in this world. We think we need more money, more time, more talent or some big opportunity from God.
Meanwhile, God may have already put something in our pocket that we can give away.
Maybe it's encouragement, maybe it's a listening ear, maybe it's laughter, maybe it's a hug or a high-five.
Maybe it's simply making sure someone knows you're glad they're there.
And maybe it's Smarties.
Dad started giving away something small, and years later, there are people helping make sure his pockets stay full so he can keep giving it away.
I love that.
Because maybe that's how kindness is supposed to work: We receive it, we give it away, someone else adds a little more, and we keep giving.
So today, I think Proverbs gives us a pretty simple assignment: Carry something sweet, not necessarily in your pocket.
Carry kindness in your heart, carry encouraging words on your tongue, carry the love of Jesus everywhere you go.
Then look for somebody who needs a little of it.
Because you never know what God might do with one small act of kindness repeated faithfully over time.
After all, sometimes a legacy begins with nothing more than a roll of Smarties and a high-five.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible