Christian Commentary on Faith, Family & Freedom

I drive past homeless people every day and pray for them, but Paul's words to Timothy suggest prayer isn't where my part ends. "Rich in good works, generous and ready to share" (1 Timothy 6:17-19) describes wealth measured by what moves through your hands, not what sits in them. One ordinary drive, a sign that read "this is the sign you were looking for," and a leftover gift card turned a familiar prayer into an actual decision. What are you holding that someone else needs mo

Have you ever prayed a prayer you weren't sure you believed? A desperate father once stood in front of Jesus and cried out, "I believe; help my unbelief!"—bringing both halves of his heart to God in the same breath instead of waiting until his faith felt tidy enough to present. Thomas did something similar, refusing to pretend belief he didn't yet have. This devotional asks what it would look like to bring your actual, unedited doubt to God today instead of a more polished ve

A few months in, a new dad's daughter laughs for the first time, a real one, and he can't stop grinning — which cracks open what Zephaniah 3:17 means when it says God rejoices over us with gladness. He wonders why so many people picture God as someone to manage and appease, rather than someone who delights in them the way a father delights in a daughter's laugh, earned by nothing. This devotional asks what changes if you believe God delights in you today, tired and behind on

A new dad starts checking traffic before he drives home, not for directions but to see what he can't from where he is. He notices his map's 'preferred route' isn't the fastest, just the one he's used to — and realizes his prayer life had taken the same route, repeating the same requests the same way. Drawing from Proverbs 16:9, James 4:14-15, and Psalm 37:23, he asks what it looks like to stop defaulting to preferred prayers and instead pray for God's direction.

Waiting on ads to finish, scrubbing through tutorials instead of watching them — a new dad notices how used to countdowns he's become, and how much he expects prayer to work the same way. But waiting on God in prayer isn't a delay before the real story starts; David describes being stuck in the pit before God lifted him out, and James compares it to a farmer who can't rush the rain. This devotional is a reminder to stop reaching for a skip button on the things only patience c

On his family's first Fall walk of the year, a new dad notices how much he resists the change of seasons — one more baseball game he didn't catch, one more summer night he wasn't ready to let go of. Ecclesiastes 3:1 and God's covenant with Noah in Genesis 8:22 both point to the same truth: the seasons keep turning because God keeps His word, not because we're ready. This devotional asks what season you're still holding onto, and what it looks like to trust God's faithfulness

After picking spoiled strawberries out of a bowl of parfait fruit, a new dad realizes the fruit didn't go bad from low quality — it went bad from sitting unused. Jesus told His disciples He appointed them to bear fruit that abides: fruit put to use, not fruit stored and admired. This devotional asks what patience, kindness, or generosity you're carrying right now that's quietly spoiling because you never gave it away — and what it would look like to use it today, before it's

A new dad notices how much his baby has changed between photos and wonders if he’s missing God’s grace the same way. Jeremiah wrote Lamentations while watching Jerusalem burn, yet paused to declare that God’s steadfast love is new every morning — not a memory of past mercy, but a daily supply. Paul says being in Christ makes us a new creation, not once, but continually. The honest question: what are you still carrying from yesterday that God’s daily mercy already renewed this

A new father, just nine weeks in, asks God why his wife, his baby, and he himself had to suffer so much. In an imagined dialogue at the foot of the Cross, God answers the same way three times: "Because I love you." Jesus reveals that His own suffering was the ultimate act of love, uniting His suffering with ours. This first Fatherhood Series installment wrestles with the purpose of suffering and lands on one truth: we suffer because we are loved, not because we are abandoned.

A backyard watering lesson turns into a picture of faith: shallow roots chase every quick spray, but deep roots reach down for water that isn't handed to them. Jeremiah 17:7-8 promises that the tree planted by the stream doesn't fear the heat — not because the drought never comes, but because its roots found water long before the ground cracked. If this season feels spiritually dry, it may not mean God has left. It may be the invitation to let your roots grow deeper toward Hi

Group projects always deflated Corbin as a kid — he'd rather carry the whole thing himself than depend on anyone else. That instinct followed him into his faith, where it's tempting to keep God tidy and private. But Jesus promised His presence to "two or three gathered together in My name," not to solo believers. From Eden to the early Church, God has worked through people together. This devotional invites you to stop sitting out and start doing faith together, one out-loud p

A new dad reflects on running through life at 10%—whether it's a newborn or something else draining the tank. The warning signs of depletion are rarely subtle, yet most of us keep pushing because something feels more urgent than rest. Even Jesus called His disciples away to rest mid-ministry, and David wrote that the Lord makes us lie down until He restores my soul. Trying harder can't manufacture what only comes from staying connected to God—the invitation is to come away an

We're about three weeks out from Pentecost Sunday, which means most of us have already moved on from it. It happens every year. Easter gets the candles and the lilies and the packed pews. Pentecost gets…a mention and something red in the sanctuary. But the Holy Spirit didn't get the memo about being easy to overlook. I've had a fan running in my office for the last week because without it, the heat just sits there. The air doesn't move, and you don't notice how still it's got

I spent most of last week on my knees on the nursery floor, surrounded by instruction sheets, hardware bags, and furniture pieces that didn't obviously connect to anything. Assembly directions for baby items are either perfectly clear or completely baffling — there's no-in-between. At some point I stopped checking the steps and started just staring at what was in front of me, trying to figure out where it all was supposed to go. By the end of the week, the room looked like a

This past week I've been converting my upstairs office into a nursery. That means hauling every piece of furniture downstairs to the basement, then turning around and hauling a different set of boxes and furniture back up. At one point I was carrying two boxes stacked on top of each other, a bag looped over my wrist, and my car keys pinched between two fingers — convinced I could squeeze in one more trip. My wife offered to take one. I said, "I've got it." Three steps later,

When I was a kid, I loved when my parents put out our Slip 'N Slide in the front yard each summer. All the neighborhood kids would come over to cool off, laugh, and have fun. Recently my wife and I were lamenting the loss of carefree summers. We're not kids anymore; we have adult responsibilities. But there's still something in my brain, almost like a circadian rhythm, that's triggered by sunshine and summer heat that signals maybe it's okay to coast.

I like to think I'm pretty good with directions, but sometimes I need to use the map on my phone. Typically it does a good job of getting me to my destination on time, although once in a while it decides to tell me my next turn is RIGHT NOW and by that point it's too late. I've passed it. The destination hadn't changed. My phone's lackadaisical approach to giving me directions hadn't cancelled the trip. I just added a few miles. We tend to treat our spiritual wrong turns diff

I know the season of Advent was quite a while ago, but I am living in my own personal advent, at least for the next month and a half. This personal advent has provided me with a new perspective on waiting. Waiting isn't idly sitting — quite the opposite — waiting involves actively preparing. My wife might tell you I'm experiencing partial preparation paralysis. Anticipation can cause anxiousness, but you cannot let it cause paralysis.

Rechecking the weather app won't change the storm that's coming — but it feels productive, like staying close to the problem is the same as solving it. We do the same thing with worry. We rehearse hard conversations, run worst-case scenarios, and call it being realistic. But Paul offers something better than calm: prayer over anxiety, and a peace that actively guards your heart.

Your storage is full. So is your schedule. One commitment follows another until there's no white space left — and usually, God is the first thing crowded out. Jesus faced the same pressure in Mark 1, and His response is worth sitting with: He woke before the noise, slipped away, and prayed. Not because He had extra time. Because He made the space.