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Can we build a Fort
The Lord replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”Exodus 33:14 (NIV) Two of my grandkids came over yesterday after work, full of energy and asked the one question I couldn’t say no to: “Can we build a fort?” They had a plan pull out all the chairs, cushions from the couch, and every blanket they could find. We started building it together, piece by piece, tucking pillows into all the corners and making sure the blankets didn’t slide off. Before long, the room had transformed into a soft, cozy little fort. Once it was finished, they crawled inside with their drinks, toys, books, and snacks. They were completely at home in that little space. They didn’t need anything fancy. They just wanted to have fun together in the fort we created. It wasn’t about anything big or impressive. It was just about the joy of the moment and the fun of being inside their world of imagination. As they played, they asked me for refills on their drinks, more snacks, or new toys to bring in. They were having a great time, completely comfortable in their little fort. There was no rush or pressure, just the joy of being together and having fun. As I watched them playing, the thought suddenly came to my mind, a soft whisper from God I felt. It was as if He was saying, “Faith, this is what I want from you. Come. Just come and be with Me. Enjoy My presence the way they are enjoying this moment together.” You don’t need to have everything in order. The setting doesn’t have to be just right or perfectly arranged before you come into My presence. He just wants me to come, to be with Him and enjoy time with Him the way my grandkids enjoyed being in that little homemade fort. Not because it was perfect, but because it was ours. Because it was safe to them, filled with laughter and togetherness. That’s what God offers us, a place with Him. A place where we can stop trying so hard a place where we can breathe. A place where we are wanted not for what we can do, but simply because we are His. See, God’s invitation to us is simple. We don’t have to overcomplicate it. He says, “Come to Me and enjoy My presence.” We don’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be the right space, the perfect building, dressed just right, or with everything in order. We just need to show up just like my grandkids did with their excitement and energy. They didn’t come for anything complicated. They came to have fun in the space we created. And then, after all the laughter and snacks and crawling around in the fort, it was time for them to go home. The kids went back to their parents, and I was left with the aftermath blankets everywhere, cushions out of place, crumbs on the carpet, toys scattered across the room and a drink that had spilit on the carpet. As I cleaned it all up, I smiled. The mess was evidence of something beautiful, of time well spent, of love poured out, of joy shared. And again, I sensed God whispering,“Even your mess is welcome with Me. You don’t have to clean it all up. I will take care of it.” That’s the heart of God. Not only does He invite us into His presence when we’re a mess; He’s the one who lovingly, patiently, and even joyfully cleans up after us. Not because He has to, but because He wants to. Because our mess means we’ve been with Him. The Bible says in Psalm 103:13-14, “As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him; for He knows how we are formed, He remembers that we are dust.” Reflection When was the last time you simply enjoyed being with God, without worrying about being “perfect” or having it all together? He’s not waiting for you to show up with everything figured out. He just wants you to come as you are, with all your joys, struggles, and questions. Imagine yourself crawling into that fort with Him just you and Him, resting together in His presence, with no agenda but to enjoy the moment. You can you accept His invitation to come closer, to rest in His love, and to experience peace that only He can give?
Rooted in Him
Jeremiah 17:7-8 (NIV)“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him.They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream.It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green.It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.” Yesterday I was working upstairs on the second floor, next to an open window. The wind outside was strong. I could hear it moving through the trees and I stopped for a few minutes just to take it in. In fact, more than once i would pause while working and look and listen. The trees were moving a lot the branches were swaying hard and some looked like they might break. But they didn’t they stayed standing, held firmly in place by their roots. As I sat there listening and watching, it made me think about life with God. We all face pressure, we face unexpected challenges, disappointments, and days that shake us to the core. But when we’re rooted in God, we may bend, but we do not break. His strength keeps us grounded. His truth gives us strength when nothing else can or makes sense. But not every tree can handle the storm. Some look strong from the outside, but when the wind comes, they fall. Not because of what’s happening on the surface, but because something deeper is wrong, the roots are weak, the inside is unhealthy. There have been times when I allowed bitterness, unforgiveness, and pride to take root in my heart, and it affected my relationship with God. I began to feel distant from Him, as if there was a barrier between us. Prayer felt harder, and I found myself avoiding the very truth I needed to hear. It didn’t just impact my connection with God; it showed up in how I treated others too. I became easily irritated, withdrawn, and less patient. Looking back, and even now at times, I can see that my roots weren’t grounded in the right things. I was trying to stand on my own, relying on my own strength, and it just didn’t work. But even in that place, God never turned away from me. He gently reminded me that it’s never too late to come back. That my roots can grow again. That healing and connection are still possible. And as I sat there by the open window, something else came to mind. The wind that was shaking the trees reminded me of the Holy Spirit. In Scripture, the Spirit is often described like the wind, he moves, he speaks and he breathes life. And I realized that the Spirit is not just here to hold us steady. He is also here to move us. When we are rooted in God and open to the Holy Spirit, He begins to stir something inside us. Sometimes He whispers and sometimes He challenges us deeply. But He always brings growth. He is always working for our good. The same wind that can feel overwhelming can also become the very breath of God leading us, stretching us, and filling us with His presence. We do not need to fear His movement. When our hearts are soft and our roots are deep, we can let Him shape us. We can be steady and surrendered. Strong and willing. Jeremiah gives us a powerful picture. A person who trusts in the Lord is like a tree planted by the water. That tree is never anxious when trouble comes. Its leaves stay green and it always bears fruit. It is alive and growing, no matter what season it is in. That is the life I want! A life rooted in God, a life moved by His Spirit. A life that stands in the storm and keeps growing through it all. If today you feel the wind or if you’ve noticed your heart drifting or growing cold, you are not alone. God is near, He is ready to strengthen your roots and breathe new life into your soul. Let Him hold us steady. Let Him move through us with life, love and power.
Through the Fire
A few weeks ago, my 78-year-old mom experienced something that none of us were prepared for. She was outside eating lunch when she heard the smoke alarms going off inside her house. Just days before, my sister Grace had changed every smoke detector in her home. At the time, it seemed like just a simple chore, but now we know that small act of kindness made all the difference. Because those alarms worked, my mom heard them in time. She ran inside and found a fire had started on the stove. She tried to put it out herself. The fire was contained to only the kitchen before it could spread throughout the whole house, but the smoke and soot traveled everywhere. Her home was and is still filled with it. Walls, furniture, clothes, blankets, even the air; everything was touched. The smell is overwhelming. And this wasn’t just any house. This was the home she had built after my dad passed away. A place that represented healing, hope, and a fresh start after deep grief. For a moment, it felt like everything she had rebuilt was being undone. But God was there. Looking back now, I can see how God was already working, even before the fire started. My sister had just replaced the smoke detectors, and little did we know how much that small act would matter. Then, when the fire broke out, my mom acted quickly and with a calm strength I admire. And just couple hours later, her grandson Jessie, who works for a restoration company, showed up to help get the cleanup started. In that moment, it all felt like chaos, but now, I see how God was in every detail, guiding her through it. We see Him in every step of the restoration, in every effort to bring her home back to life. And it’s a reminder that even when life feels like it’s falling apart, God is there, working in the background, always preparing a way for healing and renewal. In the midst of all this, my mom is staying with my sister Grace during the restoration. This act of kindness and love on Grace’s and her husband Josh has meant the world to Mom. Grace’s support has been a steady presence, offering comfort and peace when it’s needed most. I’m reminded of the verse in Proverbs 3:27, which says, “Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act.” Grace is living this verse by stepping up when it was needed most, offering her home, her time, and her heart to help Mom through this difficult season. Her willingness to care for others, without hesitation, is a reflection of the love God calls us to show one another. The cleaning process has begun. It’s a long one. Every item had to be removed from the house and cleaned, every wall and surface scrubbed, every bit of soot cleared away. But slowly, day by day, the house is being renewed. And the hope is that when it’s all finished, it will be like nothing ever happened. No smoke. No stains. No lingering reminder of what tried to steal her comfort and peace. I’ve been thinking a lot about the verse in Isaiah that says, “When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned. The flames will not set you ablaze.” This doesn’t mean we’ll avoid the fire. It means that even when we go through trials and when things feel broken, messy, or damaged God promises that we won’t be consumed by them. The fire may leave scars, and the damage may be real, but it will not destroy us. We will walk through it, and we will come out on the other side, not untouched, but still standing. God’s promise isn’t about avoiding hardship; it’s about His presence in the middle of it, giving us the strength to endure and the hope to rebuild. His faithfulness means that the fire will not have the final word. That’s what I see in my mom. Her strength isn’t loud, but it’s steady. She’s calm, faithful, and grounded in a God who doesn’t leave us when things go up in flames. He walks right through the fire with us. And even when the smell of smoke still lingers, He’s already working to make things new again. Maybe you’re in the middle of your own fire right now. Maybe it’s not something you can see, but something you feel, a loss, setback a season that has left its mark. I want you to know this God is not finished. The damage you see now is not the end of the story. He restores, he heals and he rebuilds until even the evidence of the pain begins to fade. And one day, like my mom’s home, your life will be filled with peace again. No smell of smoke. No soot on the walls. Just the quiet beauty of a God who makes all things new.
The Woman in Row Eight
“Therefore I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.”—Romans 12:1 Yesterday, my husband Frank and I attended a church we normally don’t attend. We were closer to my mom this weekend, so we found a place nearby. God was there, gently reminding us of who He is, through simply watching someone worship Him. A few rows in front of us, there was a woman, maybe in her seventies. She caught my eye, not because she was loud or flashy, but because her spirit was steady. During worship, I noticed her. While the music played, she gently moved back and forth. Nothing dramatic. Nothing rehearsed. She raised one arm with a quiet kind of surrender. Her face was soft, full of light and peaceful. She wasn’t performing and she wasn’t trying to be seen. But something in her demeanor said she was fully present with God. I could tell she wasn’t trying to be anything for anyone. She was just with Jesus. And it moved something within me. There was joy on her face not a look-at-me kind of joy. This was something deeper, quieter, and stronger. The kind of joy that has lasted through pain. The kind that clings to hope when life doesn’t make sense. A joy that only comes from walking with Jesus. A joy that knows He is faithful, even when nothing else is. She worshipped slowly, honestly and with what she had. And it felt so pure and true. I don’t know her name. I don’t know what she’s been through. But I felt the Spirit of God on her worship. It wasn’t loud, but it was powerful. It was a kind of offering that doesn’t need a microphone or a spotlight. Just a heart turned upward. John 4 says “the Father is seeking worshipers who worship in spirit and in truth.” That was her! I stood there, not distracted but drawn in. Her worship didn’t stand out because of anything grand she wasn’t seeking attention. It was the simplicity of it that struck me. There was something so pure about the way she moved, the way she raised her hand. It made me think about how often we can complicate worship with our expectations, when really, it’s just about offering ourselves fully to God. She reminded me that worship is about the quiet, unspoken surrender of our heart. She reminded me of the woman in Luke 7 with the alabaster jar. The one who broke it open and poured it all out at Jesus’ feet. She didn’t care who was watching. She didn’t come to impress. She came to give everything. And Jesus saw her He didn’t turn her away He honored her and He said, “She loved much.” That’s what I saw in the woman in row eight. Someone who has loved much. Someone who is still loving much. God sometimes sends people like her to wake us up. To bring us back to the heart of worship. To remind us that real worship isn’t about volume, style, or surroundings. It’s about truth. It’s about Jesus. It’s about loving Him enough to respond, even if no one else does. And then at the end of the service, as we were all leaving, I saw her again. This time she wasn’t moving freely. She couldn’t walk on her own. Two women were on either side of her, gently helping her make her way out of the sanctuary. And in that moment, my heart broke and opened wider all at once. The woman who had worshipped with such quiet strength, such grace, such freedom, she was in pain. Her body was weak. But still, she stood to worship. Still, she raised her hand. Still, she moved for Jesus. She gave Him what she had. Not out of abundance, but out of love. I want to be more like that woman in row eight. Jesus, please let our love be honest. Let it be seen not just in words, but in posture, in stillness, in movement, in surrender. Let us never grow too careful, too cautious, or too self-aware to worship You fully. Let us love you with everything we have. “Therefore I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.”—Romans 12:1 The picture above is of her, she allowed me to take her picture.
When the Waves Keep Coming
Psalm 61:2 — “From the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” There have been periods in life when the weight of everything feels like it was too much. And I had barely a moment to catch my breath before, I knew it the new wave came crashing in. Perhaps you’ve had a similar experience or are having one now. In conversations with people, this is where many are at now. For you, it might have started with your parent’s health declining, slowly at first, and suddenly you’re thrust into this unexpected role; scheduling and attending appointments, taking care of documents, medical bills, and their household as well as your own. Perhaps it’s your marriage; stress has been piling up, and communication just isn’t what it used to be. Lately, it seems every conversation becomes an argument, and the bond you once shared seems to be slipping throuh your finges. The love remains somewhere in the background, yet it feels distant. And if you’re honest, you’re scared. Sadly, family drama has begun again, reopening old wounds and continuing the exhausting cycle of unspoken resentments. The same tiring routines have returned, and you find it both frustrating and utterly exhausting. Grounding yourself is proving difficult as the past relentlessly resurfaces. At the moment, you’re near your breaking point; work adds more stress and exhaustion. You’re overwhelmed, constantly playing catch-up, and struggling to keep up. Sometimes it’s not one big thing; it’s the everyday demands that never seem to stop. You’re running from one appointment to the next, juggling kids’ practices, school events, work deadlines, commitments, and errands. Laundry is piling up, dishes are in the sink, the house needs cleaning, and the lawn won’t mow itself. Finances are tight, and the due dates are slipping by without being paid. Deep down, you’re barely holding it together. No one sees how close you are to falling apart. Every part of your life demands more than you have to give. And perhaps you haven’t said it out loud, but somewhere deep inside, you wonder: God, how much more do You think I can take? On top of everything else, your own body isn’t cooperating. You might be dealing with fatigue, chronic pain, or health problems that make everything harder. Some days, getting out of bed takes everything you’ve got. You put on a smile when people ask how you’re doing, but deep down, you’re just trying to make it through the day without breaking down. I’ve walked through a few of these seasons myself, not all of these things, but a couple of them, and it was real, raw, and exhausting. I’ve had days where getting out of bed felt like a battle. I’ve prayed prayers that felt like they hit the ceiling and dropped back down. I’ve had moments where the silence of God felt deafening, and the darkness seemed never-ending.. I’ll be frank; my responses haven’t always been the best. I didn’t run straight to God. I tried to handle it my way. I let my weariness drive my decisions and dictate my attitude. I let my frustration lead. Every time I’ve done that, the outcome has never ended well for me or the ones I love, things could have gone better. The weight grew heavier, and the peace I craved appeared farther away. But here’s what I’ve learned, and am still learning: God doesn’t expect us to possess everything. He never asks us to be strong, perfect, or unshakable. In fact, His Word says the opposite. In 2 Corinthians 12:9, God tells Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” That means when we come to the end of ourselves, when we have nothing left to give, that’s when God steps in with His strength. In Psalm 61, David doesn’t pretend to be strong; he doesn’t act like everything is fine. He says, “When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” David was honest, raw, and real; he didn’t try to clean himself up before coming to God. He didn’t pretend to be okay. He came as he was: overwhelmed, vulnerable. And instead of trying to climb higher on his own, he cried out to be led; led to the Rock. That’s humility, trust, and faith, even when you don’t feel strong. Genuine power lives in David’s type of honesty. God can handle our exhaustion and mess. He can carry our frustrations, disappointments, and struggles. He’s not afraid of your questions or your doubts. He doesn’t want our performances; He only wants our hearts and honesty. He wants us to come to Him, as we are, with all of it. He already sees it, anyway. In Matthew 11:28, Jesus says, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Not rules, no pressure, just rest. That is what He is offering. Strength doesn’t always look strong; Sometimes, strength is simply crawling to Jesus and whispering, Help me. And the good news is God hears you, sees you, and He’ll carry you when you can’t stand anymore. If you’re facing one storm after another, and life feels like a constant struggle, know that you haven’t been forgotten. You are not invisible. And you are not alone! The same God who calmed the seas, who fed the five thousand, who wept at the tomb of Lazarus — that God is with you in your storm. Not waiting for it to end, but walking with you through every single wave. You don’t have to fake it til you make it. You don’t have to have it all together. You just have to come. Crawl, if you must. Limp if you have to. Turn to Jesus, the rock that is higher, stronger, and more faithful than any challenge this world can bring. And when you can’t take another step, He’ll carry you.
The tiny box we overlook
“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:13 (NIV)1 Today, I spent hours trying to do something that should have been simple. I was working on my employers website, trying to make a list of pulled data from a specific section of a database from another application. The solution, according to every blog, AI, and video I searched, said it was easy. Just click from the list box and choose from the drop-down. But I couldn’t find the box. I looked everywhere. I clicked everywhere in the Web Designer software. I was almost at the point of just doing coding. Even stepped away a few times to clear my head so I wouldn’t use language I shouldn’t. I knew I was making something so simple feel impossible. And then, I found it. A tiny icon, no bigger than a centimeter, that had been there the whole time. One click, and everything started falling into place. It hit me how often in life and in our faith do we do the same thing? We search and strive. We stress and overthink. We look everywhere except at what’s right in front of us. We ask God for answers but don’t slow down enough to see the small signs He has placed in our path. Sometimes the breakthrough isn’t about knowing more, but about seeing more clearly. About quieting our minds long enough to notice the still, small voice. (1 Kings 19:12). That tiny box reminded me that God doesn’t always shout in the obvious places. He often whispers in the quiet corners of our lives, in the spaces we overlook when we’re moving too fast to notice. Sometimes, the answer we desperately need isn’t in a loud voice or flashing road sign. It’s in a gentle nudge, a still small moment, or something so subtle we almost miss it. God’s guidance is not always loud, but it is always present. He might speak through an unexpected conversation with a friend, a line in a song we weren’t even really listening to, or a verse of Scripture that suddenly feels like it was written just for us. And often, it’s only after we’ve worn ourselves out searching that we’re still enough to finally hear Him. What felt like wasted time today wasn’t wasted at all. Every moment of struggle chipped away at my pride, my self-reliance, and my hurry. It softened me and humbled me. Reminding me that sometimes the journey is the lesson. That in my frustration, God is not far away. He’s teaching me to slow down, to pay attention, to depend on Him more than my own understanding. Clarity comes to those who are willing to keep seeking, even when they’re tired or frustrated. God honors the heart that doesn’t give up. The heart that says, Lord, I trust that You are here, even when I don’t see it yet. And when that clarity finally comes after what seems like forever and we see the “tiny box” we overlooked, it moves us and possibly humbles us. Because we know we didn’t get there on our own. It was grace that opened our eyes. So now, every time I see that tiny little icon on the page, I’ll remember this, sometimes the biggest breakthroughs come in the smallest, quietest places. And God is always there patiently waiting for me to see. Reflection:Is there something in your life that feels frustratingly unclear right now? A situation where you’ve searched everywhere for answers? Maybe, just maybe, the answer is already in front of you quiet, small, and waiting for you to pause long enough to see it. New International Version (NIV) Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV® Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.