I thought strength would feel louder. I imagined it would arrive with confidence, certainty, and a sense of readiness—as if one day I would wake up and simply know I could handle whatever was in front of me. I thought strength would feel like clarity, like resolve, like having all the answers neatly lined up.

But most days, strength feels nothing like I expected it to feel.

Most days, strength feels like showing up tired. Like choosing kindness when it would be easier to withdraw.
Like trusting God without seeing the outcome—without knowing how things will unfold or when relief might come.

Strength, I’ve learned, is something much stronger than I know or understand.

Isaiah 40:29 tells us,
“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”

It is one of my favorite verses. For reasons I can’t fully explain, the book of Isaiah holds so many of my favorite passages. I return to it again and again, as if my soul recognizes something familiar there. I find comfort in its honesty, its warnings, and its hope. I seem to find my strength in its words.

God is telling us something important here. He does not say He gives strength to the confident, the self-assured, or the ones who appear to have it all together. He gives strength to the weary. To the tired. To the worn-down. To the ones who keep going even when they aren’t sure how.

Most days, that is me. And maybe it is you, too.

There have been seasons in my life when it felt like I was being pressed from every side. Emotionally, spiritually, sometimes physically. I used to wonder why those seasons felt so relentless, why rest seemed so far away. Over time, I’ve come to understand something that has changed the way I see hardship.

When we are doing the work God has placed before us—when we are living faithfully, loving deeply, speaking truth, choosing light—opposition often follows. Satan has little interest in disrupting those who are not working for the Kingdom. But when lives are being changed, when hearts are being softened, when faith is being lived out authentically, resistance shows up.

And oddly enough, I take heart in that. Not because suffering is easy or desirable—but because it reminds me that God is present, active, and at work. It reminds me that what I am doing matters, even when it feels exhausting.

Sometimes strength looks like continuing when stopping would feel safer. Sometimes strength looks like staying when walking away would be easier. Sometimes strength looks like resting—finally letting God hold what we have been gripping too tightly for too long.

We often mistake strength for motion, for action, for visible progress. But some of the strongest moments in our lives happen, unseen by anyone but God.

If you don’t feel strong today, that does not mean you aren’t.It may simply mean that God is doing His best work in you—deep in places no one else can see. He is building endurance. He is growing trust. He is shaping a faith that will last longer than quick confidence ever could.

And that kind of strength endures storms. That kind of strength carries us when emotions fail. That kind of strength lasts.

Prayer:
God, thank You for meeting me in my weakness. When I feel tired, unsure, or worn down, remind me that You are near. Teach me to trust Your strength when I cannot find my own. Amen.

Morning came whether I was ready for it or not. The light slipped through the window quietly, without asking permission. The world outside didn’t pause for my heaviness or my questions. It simply showed up—faithful as ever.

There are days when that feels comforting… and days when it feels hard. The night had been especially long, filled with memories of hurt and betrayal – of loss and frustration – of wondering why it had to be this way.

But Scripture reminds us in Lamentations 3:22–23:
“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning.”

Not new every season. Not new when I finally feel strong again. New every single morning.

God does not wait for us to catch up. He meets us right where the day begins—offering mercy before we even know we need it. Some mornings, mercy feels like joy. Other mornings, it feels like simply getting out of bed. And that is enough.

I often remind myself that I must live my life not only to glorify God and benefit His Kingdom, but to make the enemy of my soul regretful every time my feet hit the floor. I must make Satan aware that I am not only awake but ready to take on this world with all my heart for my Lord and Savior.

Life can cause us to want to retreat, to want to pull the covers over our heads and hide from the pain. It can confuse us and cause us to believe that God is not aware that we exist.

But don’t you believe it.

Yes, this morning was hard to put my feet on the ground, but I did.

If today feels ordinary or heavy, take heart: God has already placed what you need inside this morning. You don’t have to search for it. He will stir something within your heart to know He is with you every step of the way. He has gone before you. Noting surprises Him.

Just receive it.

Prayer:
Lord, thank You for meeting me here—right where I am. Help me trust that today holds exactly what You intended. Amen.

Every morning, two cardinals tap on my window.

It has become part of my day—almost a greeting. I notice them before I notice the news, before the noise of the world creeps in. Just two bright flashes of red, steady and faithful, reminding me that God’s creation is already awake.

As the storm approached, I found myself worrying about them.

I filled the bird feeders extra full, wondering how they would survive the cold, the wind, the uncertainty of what was coming. I imagined them frightened, hungry, exposed to a world they could not control. And I realized something—I was carrying concern for something God had already been caring for all along.

When the storm passed, I looked outside, and there they were.

Eating alongside other birds—some small, some medium-sized—without fear, without urgency, without worry. They shared space, shared food, and carried on as if to say, We are provided for.

And I was the one who had worried.

Jesus reminds us of this truth in Matthew 6:26:
“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?”

I stood there watching them—content, unbothered, alive—and felt the quiet correction of God settle into my heart. Those birds did not know a storm was coming. They did not stockpile. They did not panic. They simply trusted the rhythm God had built into their lives: eat when food is available, rest when it is time, and rise again when morning comes.

And somehow, they survived. I had done the worrying. God had done the providing. 

How often do I do that in my own life? I look ahead to the storm—real or imagined—and my heart fills with questions. How will this work out? Will I have enough? Will I be okay? I try to prepare my spirit the way I filled those feeders, as if my effort alone is what will carry me through.

But God gently reminds me: He has never missed a morning.

If He notices two cardinals tapping on my window…If He feeds the smallest birds without them ever asking…How much more does He see me? How much more does He see you?

The birds didn’t survive because I worried. They survived because God is faithful. And the same is true for us. Today, if you are looking at the sky and bracing for a storm—financial, emotional, physical, or spiritual—pause for a moment. Look at the birds. Remember the cardinals. Remember that God’s care does not waver when the weather changes.

You are not forgotten. You are not overlooked.  You are deeply, intentionally loved.

And if God cares so much for the birds in your yard, how much more does He care for you?

Prayer:

Lord, help me to trust You the way the birds do—without fear, without striving, and without doubt. When storms come, remind me that You are already there, providing what I need. Amen.

There are moments in Scripture that stop us in our tracks—and the story of Abraham and Isaac is one of them.

God asked Abraham to take his promised son, Isaac, up the mountain and offer him as a sacrifice. It was a request that made the heart ache. Yet Scripture tells us Abraham obeyed. What often gets overlooked is how he obeyed—with faith so deep that it spoke even before the miracle came.

As Abraham prepared to leave, he told his servants, “Stay here with the donkey; I and the boy will go over there and worship and we will come back to you” (Genesis 22:5).
 

He didn’t say, “I will return.” He didn’t say, “Perhaps we will return.” He said with great confidence, “We will come back.”

Abraham trusted God completely. He believed that somehow—some way—the Lord would keep His promise. Hebrews later tells us that Abraham reasoned God could even raise Isaac from the dead if necessary (Hebrews 11:19). This was not blind obedience; it was obedience rooted in confidence in God’s character.

As they climbed the mountain, Isaac asked the question every parent fears: “Father…where is the lamb?” And Abraham answered with words that echo through generations: “God Himself will provide the lamb.” (Genesis 22:8)

At the moment Abraham raised the knife, the angel of the Lord stopped him. And there—caught in the thicket—was a ram.

The provision was already there.

God did not scramble at the last second. He had prepared the ram in advance. The test was never about the sacrifice—it was about trust. God wanted Abraham to know that obedience does not end in loss when the Lord is the one who sends you.

That is why Abraham named the place Jehovah-Jireh—“The Lord will provide.”

So often in our own lives, we climb mountains not knowing how things will turn out. We carry questions. We carry fear. We carry obedience that feels costly. But like Abraham, we are called to trust that God sees the whole picture—even the parts hidden in the bushes we cannot yet see.

The ram may not look like what we expected. The provision may not come how or when we imagined. But God is faithful to provide what is needed at exactly the right moment.

If you are standing on a mountain today—waiting, trusting, surrendering—know this: the ram is already there. The Lord has not forgotten you. He is not late. He is not careless with your heart.

Obedience opens the door for provision. Faith declares, “We will return,” even when the path ahead is unclear.

And just like Abraham discovered, the God who calls you up the mountain is the same God who meets you there.

Prayer:
Lord, help me trust You when obedience feels heavy and the outcome uncertain. Open my eyes to see Your provision, even when it is hidden. I choose to believe that You are Jehovah-Jireh—my Provider. Amen.

There is something sacred about opening the Bible—not just as a book, but as a conversation. When we sit with the Word of God each day, we are not simply reading ancient text; we are allowing God to speak into our present moment.

Scripture reminds us, “For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword…” (Hebrews 4:12). The Word is living. It breathes. It moves. It meets us exactly where we are.

That is why the same verse can feel different at different seasons of our lives. A passage you read in your twenties may have comforted you. That same passage, years later, may challenge you—or heal you—or gently correct you. The words have not changed, but you have. And God, in His perfect wisdom, uses the same truth to reach us in new ways.

This is the beauty of daily time in Scripture. God knows what you need today. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Today.

One person may read a verse and feel peace. Another may read it and feel conviction. Another may feel hope rising where despair once lived. This is not confusion—it is evidence of a living God speaking personally to His children. Jesus said, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27). His voice often comes through His Word.

Reading the Bible daily is not about checking a box or completing a plan. It is about posture—showing up with an open heart and saying, “Lord, speak. I’m listening.” Sometimes the Word will affirm you, or sometimes it will stretch you. Sometimes it will sit comfort you while you grieve. All of it matters.

There are days when a single verse is enough to carry you through. Other days, a story unfolds that mirrors your own life so closely it feels as though God underlined it just for you. Scripture adapts to our circumstances not because it is a flexible truth, but because truth is eternal—and eternity touches every moment we live.

Psalm 119:105 says, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Notice it does not say a spotlight for the whole journey. Often, God’s Word gives us just enough light for the next step. That is why we return to it again and again. Daily dependence builds daily faith.

If you’ve fallen out of the habit of reading Scripture, begin gently. Start with a Psalm. Read the Gospels. Sit with one verse and let it speak. Ask God what He wants you to see—not what you want to rush past.

The Word of God is not meant to be distant or intimidating. It is meant to be close. Familiar. Alive. It is God’s way of reminding us that we are never walking alone.

When we stay in the Word, the Word stays in us—and over time, it shapes how we think, how we love, how we forgive, and how we hope.

Open your Bible today. Not for information—but for transformation.

Prayer:

Lord, thank You for Your living Word. Help me to hunger for it daily and to hear Your voice through it. Speak to me where I am, and shape me into who You are calling me to be. Amen.

Luke 1:26–38

There are moments in Scripture where heaven seems to bend low enough for us to touch it. One of those moments happened in a garden in Nazareth, when a young girl named Mary encountered the angel Gabriel.

She wasn’t royalty, or wealthy, or powerful in the eyes of the world, but Heaven saw her as the one. 

Mary was going about the ordinary rhythms of her day when the extraordinary arrived:

“Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”  —Luke 1:28

Can you imagine hearing those words? Especially as a teenage girl, living in a humble village, suddenly visited by an angel with a world-shifting message.

We’re told Mary was “troubled”—and who wouldn’t be? In my own life experiences, I’ve learned that God’s call on our lives often begins in an unexpected, surprising, and overwhelming way. 

Gabriel tells her she will bear the Messiah—the Savior of the world. Her thoughts probably traveled rapidly from impossible to unlikely to unthinkable. The beauty of God is that He is never limited by human uncertainty. 

“The Holy Spirit will come upon you… For nothing will be impossible with God.”

God wasn’t asking Mary to understand every detail; He was asking her to trust Him enough to say yes. 

There are moments in our lives when God calls us into something we do not feel prepared for—
a new season, a change of direction, a challenge bigger than what we think we can handle.

Mary shows us that obedience isn’t about confidence in ourselves. It’s about confidence in God.

Her response remains one of the greatest declarations of faith in all of Scripture:

“I am the Lord’s servant… May it be to me as you have said.”
—Luke 1:38

Mary did not respond, “I understand everything.”

She didn’t say, “I feel ready and completely confident.” 

Mary simply said, “Lord, I am Yours.”

And when we answer like Mary, God will honor our faithfulness, and that’s where miracles begin.

Mary teaches us that God often speaks in unexpected ways – in ordinary spaces where we least expect divine interruptions. And when He calls us into something greater than ourselves, He also equips us, strengthens us, and walks with us.

Your “yes” may not feel big.  It may feel whispered, hesitant, or trembling—but God can use even a trembling yes to change the world.

Prayer

Lord, give me Mary’s courage to say yes even when I feel unprepared. Help me trust Your voice, embrace Your calling, and walk forward in faith. Let my life echo those precious words: “Let it be unto me.” Amen.

Luke 1:5–25, 57–66

Few stories in Scripture feel as human, as tender, and as reassuring as the story of Elizabeth and Zechariah. Two faithful servants of God. Two hearts that had prayed the same prayer for years. Two people who watched the seasons of life pass without the blessing they longed for.

Scripture says they were “righteous before God… blameless” (Luke 1:6), yet still, the cradle remained empty, the prayers seemed unanswered, and the silence from heaven felt long.

But heaven was not indifferent. Heaven was working behind the scenes. Zechariah was carrying out his priestly duty when the angel Gabriel appeared with a message that would shake the dust off every decade of disappointment: “Your prayer has been heard.” (Luke 1:13)

Gabriel expressed to Zechariah that God had held their prayer for a long time. He had not ignored their prayer or forgotten their pleas or dismissed their request. No, Heaven had heard their prayers. 

Sometimes the hardest part of faith is believing God remembers us when time goes on, and nothing changes. But Elizabeth and Zechariah remind us that delay is not denial—and silence does not equal absence.

When Elizabeth discovered she was expecting, Scripture tells us: “The Lord has done this for me.” (Luke 1:25)

Elizabeth’s gratitude for God was evident, and she understood that His timing was perfect. There was no bitterness that it had taken so long. There were no complaints that now she was old and the pregnancy was difficult. Elizabeth embraced God’s plan, although it was a different plan from hers. 

After months of silence, Zechariah’s first words were praise. His tongue was loosed when he agreed with God, writing that the child’s name would be John. Sometimes God gives us silence so we can learn to listen again—to His voice, not our fears.

Today, as you rise and begin your day, carry this truth:

God has not forgotten you. Your prayers are not lost. The silence you feel is not empty—sometimes it is preparation.

Elizabeth and Zechariah show us that God often does His deepest work in the waiting. And when the answer finally comes, it comes overflowing with purpose.

Prayer

Lord, help me trust You in the quiet seasons. Remind me that You see me, You hear me, and You are working in every chapter of my life—even the ones that feel still. Like Elizabeth and Zechariah, let my response be faith, gratitude, and praise. Amen.

Waiting is one of the hardest things God ever asks us to do. As humans, we really don’t mind moving forward or working hard. In actuality, we don’t even mind a struggle if we can see what’s ahead and what’s at the end. 

But waiting?  Waiting is one of the worst, nothing anyone can do about it feelings in the world. 

Scripture tells us over and over that God does His deepest work in the waiting.

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

While many of us believe waiting is a waste of time, it never is. It’s the place where God strengthens faith, heals wounds, and prepares us for what’s next.

I think about all the times in my own life when I wanted answers right away — when I wanted clarity, healing, change, or a breakthrough. And God gently said, “Not yet.” Even now, as I type this devotion, I am living through such a season and have been waiting for quite some time. But, I know Who is in control. 

As I wait, I tell myself, “God is protecting me. God is preparing me. God is shaping things behind the scenes in ways I cannot see.”

It is easy to believe that nothing is happening. But spiritually? Everything is happening.

Waiting is where roots grow deeper, trust becomes real, and God removes what doesn’t belong and builds what does.

It’s in the waiting we learn to pray with honesty; to listen with humility; to surrender with peace; and to hope again, even when we’re tired.

And here’s the comfort: God is never late. Not once has He failed to show up at the exact moment we needed Him most.

If you’re in a waiting season today — waiting for answers, waiting for healing, waiting for restoration, waiting for direction — this is not punishment. It’s preparation.

Your story is developing. Your prayers are heard, and your life is not on pause.

You are in the hands of a God who uses waiting like a master craftsman — shaping, refining, strengthening, and aligning everything perfectly. And when the season shifts, and the door opens, and the answer comes, you will look back and say:

“Lord, You knew exactly what You were doing.”

Prayer

Father, help me trust You in the waiting. When my heart grows tired, remind me that You are working in ways I cannot see. Strengthen my faith, calm my spirit, and prepare me for the blessings You have already planned. I choose to wait with hope because I know You are faithful. Amen.

There are seasons in life when strength looks like courage and confidence, and there are seasons when strength looks like simply getting out of bed and choosing to try again.

Sometimes we underestimate what it means to be strong.  We believe strength means being in control. We think strength means not crying, not wavering, not needing help. But in God’s kingdom, strength looks different.

Scripture tells us,
“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”
— 2 Corinthians 12:9

God isn’t asking you to be strong on your own. He’s asking you to lean into His strength — the strength that meets you right where you are. 

There is a kind of holy strength that rises from within:

• When your heart is broken, but you choose to love anyway.
  
• When you’re afraid, but you step forward with trembling faith.
  
• When you’re exhausted, but you refuse to give up.
  
• When you’ve been hurt, but you forgive.
  
• When you’ve lost much, but you still thank God for what remains.
  

That is the strength heaven applauds, not the strength born from self-reliance, but the strength born from surrender. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay or hide your tears to be strong. You don’t have to walk through the valley with a forced smile to be strong.

God sees the battle behind your obedience. He sees the courage it takes to keep going, and He hears the prayer whispered through tears, “Lord, help me.”

The truth is, you have already survived moments you thought would break you and have overcome storms you thought would swallow you. You’ve already walked through seasons you never imagined you could endure.

Although you may be tired and bruised, you are still standing because God stood with you. Your strength has never been about your own ability — it has always been about His faithfulness.

When you feel weak, He carries you. When you feel lost, He guides you. When you feel overwhelmed, He steadies you. When you feel empty, He fills you.

And today, He wants you to know:
You are stronger than you know — not because of who you are, but because of who He is within you.

Let His strength rise in you today. Let His peace steady your spirit. Let His presence remind you that you are never fighting alone.

Whatever you’re facing, God will give you the strength you need — day by day, moment by moment, breath by breath.

You don’t have to have tomorrow’s strength today.  You only need enough for this moment —
and God will supply it.

Prayer

Lord, thank You for being my strength when I feel weak. Help me lean into Your power, not my own. Remind me that I am never alone, and that in every moment of weakness, You are working through me. Give me courage for today and peace for tomorrow. Amen.