30 Days Until Easter

Matthew 5:3–6

““Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.”

When Jesus begins the Sermon on the Mount, He immediately describes the kind of people who belong to the kingdom of God. What is surprising is that the first quality He highlights is not strength, confidence, or spiritual accomplishment. Instead, He says that the kingdom belongs to those who are poor in spirit. That phrase can easily be misunderstood, especially when we read it through the lens of our culture. We tend to associate spiritual strength with having everything together, appearing steady, and showing no signs of weakness. But Jesus begins in a completely different place.

To be poor in spirit is not to be spiritually deficient. It is not a lack of faith, and it is not a collapse of assurance. Poverty of spirit is the recognition that we are completely dependent on God. It is the opposite of self-sufficiency. It is the posture of someone who understands that life with God is not sustained by personal strength or spiritual performance, but by humble reliance on Him.

I think a lot of times in the Christian life there can be pressure to perform. Once someone becomes a follower of Christ, there can be an unspoken assumption that everything should now look perfect. While it is good to desire a life that reflects Christ well, that pressure can sometimes lead people to believe they must always appear spiritually strong. The reality is that the journey of sanctification includes moments where we feel rich in spirit and moments where we feel very aware of our need. Those moments of need are not signs that something has gone wrong. They are often the very places where dependence becomes most real.

One of the clearest pictures of this in Scripture is Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. In that moment, Jesus was not spiritually deficient, faltering in faith, or empty of assurance. Quite the opposite. What we see there is the depth of His humanity expressed in complete dependence on the Father. The weight of what was before Him was real, and instead of distancing Himself from the Father, He moved toward Him in prayer. His response was not independence, but communion. Not resistance to the Father’s will, but surrender to it. That moment reveals something profound. Poverty of spirit is not weakness. It is the willingness to bring your full need before the Father and remain in trusting obedience.

That is the kind of posture Jesus is describing in the Beatitudes. The kingdom of God belongs to those who recognize their need for Him, who refuse to live on self-reliance, and who walk in humble dependence. The world often celebrates the person who appears strong and self-sufficient. But the kingdom begins with people who know they cannot do this on their own.

And that is good news.

Because it means the door into the kingdom is not reserved for those who have everything together. It is open to those who come honestly, recognizing their need and placing their trust in God.

Prayer

Lord, teach me what it truly means to be poor in spirit. Remove the pressure to rely on my own strength and help me live in humble dependence on You. Shape my heart so that I continually turn toward You in trust and obedience. In Jesus’ name, amen.

31 Days Until Easter

Micah 6:8

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

Micah 6:8 is one of those verses that brings incredible clarity to what God is actually looking for in our lives. Sometimes faith can feel complicated. We can get caught up wondering if we are doing enough, saying the right things, or following the right spiritual rhythm. But this passage cuts through all of that and reminds us that God’s desire for His people has always been deeply relational and deeply practical.

The prophet lays it out simply. Do justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly with your God.

When we hear language like this today, it is easy for our minds to immediately jump into larger cultural conversations. Words like justice and mercy often get pulled into political spaces or public debates. But Micah is not writing a political platform. He is speaking to the everyday posture of God’s people. The focus is not on movements or systems first, but on the character of the individual believer and the way that character shows up in daily life.

Doing justice begins with living with integrity. It means treating people rightly, making decisions that reflect what is good and true, and refusing to cut corners when it would benefit you. Loving mercy moves beyond simply showing mercy when it is required and begins to shape the way you see people. It is developing a heart that is eager to extend grace rather than quick to hold onto offense. And walking humbly with God anchors everything else. It reminds us that our lives are not centered on our own wisdom or ability, but on a relationship with the Lord that shapes the way we think and live.

This verse is powerful because it brings the focus back to the heart. It is not about trying to prove something outwardly or align yourself with the loudest voices around you. It is about allowing God to shape the way you live right where you are. Justice in your decisions. Mercy in your relationships. Humility in your walk with Him.

That kind of life is not flashy, but it is incredibly powerful. It is the kind of life that quietly reflects the character of God in everyday moments.

And that is the invitation today.

As you move through your day, look for opportunities to live this out in simple ways. Treat people fairly. Extend mercy quickly. Stay humble in your walk with God. These are not grand gestures. They are daily choices that, over time, shape a life that reflects Him.

Prayer

Lord, help me live the kind of life You desire. Teach me to act with integrity, to love mercy in my relationships, and to walk humbly with You each day. Shape my heart so that my faith is seen in the way I live. In Jesus’ name, amen.

32 Days Until Easter

Ephesians 4:32

“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”

As we move deeper into this journey toward Easter, one of the things that becomes increasingly clear in Scripture is that what God does in us is meant to shape how we live with others. The grace we receive is not meant to stop with us. It is meant to flow through us. That is exactly what Paul is getting at when he calls believers to be kind, tenderhearted, and forgiving toward one another.

The key to understanding this verse is the final phrase. We forgive one another just as God in Christ forgave us. That is a beautiful statement, but it can also feel intimidating. When we look at the way Christ forgives, it is perfect, complete, and sacrificial. Many times we read that and immediately think about the gap between His perfection and our own limitations.

I think that is where people often get stuck.

We understand that we are called to forgive as Christ forgave us, but we also recognize that we are not Christ. Because of that, it can be easy to assume that the standard is simply too high, that we cannot measure up to it, and therefore we quietly lower the expectation in our own lives. But that gap is not meant to become an excuse.

It is meant to become a direction.

As we follow Jesus, the process of sanctification is God shaping us more and more into the image of His Son. That means the things that mark Christ’s character begin to grow in us over time. His patience, His mercy, His forgiveness. None of us reflect those things perfectly, but the trajectory of our lives should move in that direction. The standard is not lowered simply because we are still growing.

Instead, we keep moving toward it.

That means when forgiveness feels difficult, we do not dismiss it. We lean into it. We ask God to help us reflect His heart more clearly. The same grace that has been extended to us is the grace we are learning to extend to others.

And that is where this passage becomes very practical. Forgiveness is not pretending something did not hurt. It is choosing not to hold onto it in a way that hardens your heart. It is releasing the right to keep score and trusting that God’s justice and grace are greater than our ability to manage the situation.

As we move toward Easter, the cross reminds us what forgiveness actually costs. Jesus did not offer forgiveness from a distance. He carried the weight of it. And because we have received that kind of mercy, we are invited to let it shape the way we live with others.

Forgiven people forgive people.

Prayer
Lord, thank You for the forgiveness I have received through Christ. Continue shaping my heart to reflect Yours. Help me not to use my limitations as an excuse, but instead allow Your Spirit to grow mercy and grace in me so I can forgive others the way You have forgiven me. In Jesus’ name, amen.

33 Days Until Easter

Proverbs 3:5–6

“5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
and do not lean on your own understanding.
6In all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make straight your paths.”

Proverbs 3 is one of those passages that many people know, but it is easy to miss how challenging it actually is to live out. Trusting God sounds simple until you find yourself in a moment where you do not have clarity. We naturally want to understand, to map things out, to know where something is going before we fully commit to it. We want direction before we take the step.

But there are seasons where that clarity is not there.

Scripture itself shows us that. There was a long stretch between the Old Testament and the New Testament where there was no new prophetic word, no fresh direction being given. The people were still waiting on the Messiah, still holding onto what God had already said, but without new clarity on how or when it would unfold. That silence did not mean God was absent. It did not mean He did not have a plan. It simply meant He was not giving additional direction in that moment.

And that is where trust becomes real.

Because when I find myself in seasons where I do not have clarity on what God is doing, my natural tendency is not to stop, but to keep moving in the direction He has already led. To stay anchored in what I know to be true. To live by the principles found in Scripture rather than being driven by how I feel in the moment. Feelings shift. Circumstances change. But God’s Word remains steady.

That is what this passage is pointing us toward.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding means that when your perspective is limited, you do not elevate it above what God has already revealed. You continue to walk in obedience based on what you know, even when you do not know everything. You acknowledge Him in all your ways, not just when things are clear, but especially when they are not.

And the promise is that He will make your paths straight.

Not because you figured it all out, but because you trusted Him enough to keep walking.

So today, if you find yourself in a place where things feel unclear, do not let that stop you. Go back to what God has already said. Stay rooted in His Word. Keep taking faithful steps in the direction He has already revealed.

Clarity may come.

But obedience does not have to wait for it.

Prayer
Lord, help me trust You even when I do not have full clarity. Keep me grounded in Your Word and not driven by my feelings. Teach me to walk in obedience based on what You have already revealed, and to trust that You are leading even when I cannot see it. In Jesus’ name, amen.

34 Days Until Easter

Luke 15:11–24

“11And he said, “There was a man who had two sons.12And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.’ And he divided his property between them. 13Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living. 14And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need. 15So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs.16And he was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything.

17 “But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! 18I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. 19I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’20And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. 21And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ 22But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. 23And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. 24For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.”

Luke 15 gives us one of the clearest pictures of the heart of God. Jesus tells the story of a son who takes what belongs to him, walks away from his father, and wastes it. It is not a slow drift. It is a decision to leave, to do life on his own terms, and eventually that decision leads him to a place of emptiness. What once felt like freedom turns into desperation, and he realizes that life apart from his father is not what he thought it would be.

So he decides to go back.

But the walk back is not simple.

I think for many people, that walk is filled with shame and presuppositions about how it is going to go. There is this internal dialogue happening, wondering how they will be received, how much distance there will be, what kind of response is waiting on the other side. It is similar to the idea of a bandaid. The anticipation of pulling it off feels worse than the actual moment itself. You build it up in your mind. You hesitate. You brace for what you think is coming.

That is exactly where the son is.

He prepares a speech. He lowers his expectations. He is not coming back expecting restoration. He is coming back hoping for survival. In his mind, he is no longer a son. At best, he can be a servant.

But the reality is completely different.

Before he can even make it all the way back, the father sees him from a distance and runs toward him. No hesitation. No interrogation. No holding him at arm’s length. He embraces him and restores him fully. The robe, the ring, the celebration, it all points to one truth. The son’s identity was never lost, even if his direction was.

And that is where this lands for us.

So often, the hardest part is not God’s response, it is our expectation of it. We build it up. We assume distance. We assume disappointment. We assume we have to earn our way back into closeness. But the heart of the Father has not changed.

He is not waiting to push you back.

He is ready to bring you in.

So if there is any area of your life where you have been hesitant to return, do not let the anticipation keep you stuck. Do not let the buildup in your mind keep you from taking the step.

Just turn.

You may find that what you were bracing for is not what meets you at all.

Prayer
Lord, thank You that Your heart toward me is not distant, but full of compassion. Help me not to project my assumptions onto You. Give me the courage to return quickly and trust that You receive me fully. In Jesus’ name, amen.

35 Days Until Easter

John 1:5

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

John opens his Gospel with a powerful truth that frames everything that follows. He describes Jesus as light, not just symbolically, but as the source of life and clarity in a world that is marked by darkness. And then he makes a statement that is simple, but incredibly strong. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

When we read that today, it is easy to picture artificial light, lamps, light bulbs, things we can turn on and off. But when this was written, the primary reference point for light would have been the sun. Fire existed, but the sun was the constant. It was the defining source of light that marked the rhythm of every single day. And what I have come to realize is that no matter how dark a season may feel, I have never experienced a day where the sun did not rise.

There may be clouds.

There may be storms.

There may be moments where you cannot see it clearly.

But it is still there.

That is the picture John is giving us. The light of Christ is not something that flickers based on circumstances. It is not something that disappears when things feel heavy or unclear. It is constant. Even when you cannot see it fully, it is still present, still shining, still doing what light does.

And this matters, because there are seasons where life feels dark. Not always in a dramatic way, but in a way where things feel uncertain, where direction is not clear, where you are trying to navigate what is in front of you without full visibility. In those moments, the temptation is to assume that something has shifted, that maybe God is distant or that His presence is not as near as it once felt.

But John reminds us that is not the case.

The light shines.

Not sometimes.

Not only when things are clear.

Always.

And the darkness has not overcome it.

That means whatever you are walking through right now, whatever feels unclear or heavy, it does not have the final word. The presence of Christ is not dependent on your ability to see clearly in the moment. He is still there. He is still working. He is still shining.

So today, even if things feel cloudy, hold onto what is true. The sun still rises. The light still shines. And the darkness has not overcome it.

Prayer
Lord, thank You that Your light is constant even when my circumstances are not. Help me to trust that You are present and at work, even in seasons where things feel unclear. Give me confidence in Your unchanging nature and remind me that darkness does not have the final word. In Jesus’ name, amen.

36 Days Until Easter

Psalm 51:1–2

“Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.”

Psalm 51 is not theoretical. It is not written from a distance. It comes out of a moment where David is fully aware that he has fallen short, and instead of hiding from God or trying to manage the situation on his own, he brings it directly to Him. What stands out is not just that he confesses, but how he approaches God in the middle of it. He does not appeal to his track record. He does not try to balance out his failure with past obedience. He throws himself completely on the mercy of God.

That is a posture we do not naturally drift toward.

From the very beginning, baked into the Genesis story, is the reality of shame. It showed up in the garden and it has been present ever since. When Adam and Eve sinned, their instinct was not to run toward God, but to hide. That same instinct still lives in us. We do not want people to see certain parts of our lives, and if we are honest, we can carry that same mindset into our relationship with God. Not because we actually believe He does not see it, but because shame makes us want to cover it.

So instead of bringing things into the light, we manage them. We try to clean ourselves up. We attempt to fix what we can before we come to Him.

But David does the opposite.

He brings it all out in the open and asks God to do what only God can do. He is not asking for a second chance to try harder. He is asking to be made clean. That is a completely different mindset. One is rooted in self-effort, the other is rooted in dependence.

And this is where this psalm speaks directly into our lives. When God begins to surface things in us during a season like this, the invitation is not to hide or to manage, it is to bring it to Him. Not cleaned up, not filtered, not delayed. Just honest.

Because shame says hide.

Grace says come closer.

And when you begin to trust that God’s response to your honesty is mercy, not rejection, it changes everything. Confession stops being something you avoid and becomes something that draws you in.

Today, if there is something you have been carrying or covering, bring it to Him. Let Him meet you in it. Let Him do the work that you cannot do on your own.

Prayer
Lord, thank You that I do not have to hide from You. You already see me fully, and yet You still invite me to come. Give me the courage to bring everything into the light and trust Your mercy to meet me there. In Jesus’ name, amen.

37 Days Until Easter

Matthew 11:28–30

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

This passage has always been personal for me. If you walked into my house and looked at my bathroom mirror, you would see this verse taped to it. It has been there for years. I first put it there during a season where everything felt incredibly heavy. It was in the middle of the pandemic, there were a lot of unknowns, and it felt like I was trying to carry more than I was built to hold. This verse became a daily reminder that I was not meant to carry it all on my own.

But over time, my understanding of this passage began to deepen.

At first, I saw it as an invitation to bring my burdens to Jesus because life felt overwhelming. And that is absolutely true. But as I continued to sit with it, I began to realize something else. There is actually something good about feeling a weight that is too much for you. Not because the weight itself is the goal, but because it reveals your dependence. It brings you to a place where you recognize that what you are stepping into cannot be sustained by your own strength.

I have come to desire that.

I do not want to live my life in a way where everything I am doing can be accomplished on my own ability, my own planning, or my own strength. I want to take steps that require the presence of God. I want to walk in a way where if He does not show up, it does not work. Because that is the place where dependence becomes real, not just something we talk about, but something we live.

And that is what Jesus is inviting us into here.

“Come to me.”

Not come to a better system. Not come to a more efficient way of managing your life. Come to Him. The promise is not that the weight disappears, but that it is carried differently. That in walking closely with Him, learning from Him, being aligned with Him, what once felt crushing begins to shift.

Because you are no longer carrying it alone.

There is a difference between a life that is overwhelming because you are trying to hold everything together, and a life that requires God because you are walking in step with Him. One leads to exhaustion. The other leads to dependence. And in that dependence, Jesus says you will find rest for your soul.

Not because everything around you becomes easy, but because you are finally carrying it the way you were meant to.

Prayer
Lord, thank You that I do not have to carry life on my own. Teach me to come to You daily, not just when things feel heavy, but as a way of living. Help me to walk in a way that depends on You, trusts You, and learns from You. Let my life reflect a need for Your presence in everything I do. In Jesus’ name, amen.

38 Days Until Easter

Romans 5:8

“But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

One of the most important things to understand about the love of God is when it shows up. Romans 5:8 makes it clear that God’s love does not meet us on the other side of our effort, but right in the middle of our brokenness. It says that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us, which means the starting point of God’s love is not our improvement but our need. If we are not careful, we can begin to build a mindset where we feel like we need to get things together before we fully experience God’s love, like we need to be more consistent, more disciplined, or more put together in order to draw near to Him. We may never say that out loud, but it shapes the way we live.

A lot of that comes from how we naturally understand relationships. In most areas of life, there is a give and take. If you do something for someone, there is an expectation that it will come back around. You treat people well who treat you well. That is how the world keeps track of things. But Jesus calls us to love our enemies, and that lines up directly with what Paul is saying here. While we were still sinners, while we were actively rebelling, while we were living in opposition to God, His response was not distance, it was pursuit. His love was not based on our alignment with Him, but on His character toward us.

That flips everything.

It means God’s love is not a response to our goodness. It is the reason we can become different. It means the cross is not the reward for getting it right, but the foundation for a new way of living. So when we step into a season like this, whether we are fasting something or simply creating more space with God, we are not trying to earn anything. We are responding to something that is already true. We are not moving toward love. We are moving from it.

And that changes how we walk with Him. Confession becomes honest instead of guarded. Surrender becomes freeing instead of heavy. Obedience becomes a response instead of a requirement for acceptance. You are not trying to prove something to God today. You are living from the reality that He has already moved toward you.

Prayer
Lord, thank You that Your love meets me right where I am. Help me stop trying to earn what You have already given. Teach me to live from Your grace, not for it, and to respond to You with a heart that is secure in Your love. In Jesus’ name, amen.

39 Days Until Easter

Isaiah 55:6–7

“Seek the Lord while he may be found; call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.”

There is a weight to this passage that we do not always slow down enough to feel. Isaiah says, “Seek the Lord while he may be found.” That means there are moments in our lives where God is drawing us in a very real and personal way, moments where conviction is clear, where something comes to the surface, and where we know deep down that something needs to shift.

The challenge is not usually awareness.

It is response.

Because the jump from thought to action is obedience.

We can recognize what God is doing. We can feel the conviction. We can even agree with it. But stepping into it, actually turning, actually surrendering, that is where it becomes real. That is why Isaiah uses such active language. Seek. Call. Forsake. Return. This is not passive. It requires movement.

And it is not just external movement.

It is internal.

Isaiah says to forsake not only your way, but your thoughts. This is not just about behavior. This is about allowing God to reshape how we think, how we respond, and how we live. It is a full reorientation of the heart.

And here is what makes that possible.

God’s character.

Isaiah does not say return to the Lord so He can evaluate you. He says return so that He can have compassion on you. Return because He will abundantly pardon. God is not looking to barely forgive you. He is not measuring out grace in small portions. When He forgives, He does it fully.

So when God draws your attention to something, that is not something to delay.

That is an invitation.

And in this season, whether you are fasting something specific or simply creating more space for God, the principle remains the same. When He speaks, we respond. Not perfectly, but honestly. Not eventually, but now.

Because what He is calling you to release is always less than what He is inviting you into.

Prayer
Lord, help me move from awareness to obedience. Give me the courage to respond when You are drawing me. Teach me to trust Your compassion and not delay what You are making clear. In Jesus’ name, amen.

40 Days Until Easter

Psalm 139:23–24

“Search me, O God, and know my heart. Try me and know my thoughts. And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

One of the most difficult things we can do is invite God to examine what is really going on beneath the surface. It is one thing to slow down, create space, and remove distractions. It is another thing entirely to ask God to step into that space and reveal what is actually in our hearts.

David’s prayer is direct. “Search me.” Not observe me from a distance. Not affirm what is already good. Search me. Know my heart. Try me. See what is really there.

And if we are honest, that can feel uncomfortable.

Because no matter what title we carry, whether it is Christian, husband, pastor, leader, wife, school teacher, nurse, employee, or employer, we all stand in need of God’s grace. And when we ask Him to search us, we often already know the areas that need attention. The places where we have fallen short. The places we would rather not bring into the light.

But instead of starting there, we tend to redirect.

We invite Him into the safe places.

We avoid the real one.

There is something powerful that happens when we stop doing that and say, God search every corner of my life. Not just the parts that feel manageable, but the parts that feel uncomfortable. Not just the things I am ready to surrender, but the things I have been holding onto.

That is where transformation begins.

David continues, “lead me in the way everlasting.” The goal is not exposure alone. It is transformation. What God reveals, He intends to redeem.

Whether you are fasting something specific or simply creating intentional space with God, the invitation is the same. Do not just fill the space with activity. Let God meet you in it. Let Him speak. Let Him reveal. Let Him guide.

Today, pray this slowly. Not as routine, but as surrender.

Prayer

Lord, search me and know my heart. Reveal anything in me that is not aligned with You. Give me the humility to see it and the courage to surrender it. Lead me in the way everlasting and continue Your work in me during this season. In Jesus’ name, amen.

41 Days Until Easter

Matthew 6:16–18

“And when you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces that their fasting may be seen by others… But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, that your fasting may not be seen by others but by your Father who is in secret.”

As we walk through this Lenten season, it is important to acknowledge something from the very beginning. Not everyone is participating in a traditional fast. Some may be giving something up, others may simply be leaning in more intentionally, creating space for God through time in His Word and prayer. But regardless of what that looks like for you, the principle remains the same.

This is about making room for God.

This is about shifting our attention, our dependence, and our desire back toward Him.

Jesus speaks directly into that in Matthew 6. He does not say if you fast. He says when you fast. In other words, there is an expectation that there will be moments in our lives where we intentionally set something aside in order to draw closer to God. But just as quickly, He redirects the focus. Do not make it about being seen. Do not make it about appearance. Do not make it about other people.

Because the danger is not just in whether or not we fast.

The danger is in why we do anything at all.

Something that was meant to be deeply personal can slowly become performative. Something that was meant to draw us closer to God can become something that draws attention to ourselves. And if we are not careful, even good spiritual disciplines can drift in that direction.

But Jesus calls us back to something deeper.

Your Father who sees in secret.

Whether you are fasting something specific or simply creating space to meet with God more intentionally, the invitation is the same. Let it be real. Let it be personal. Let it be between you and the Lord.

We live in a world where so much of what we do is tied to external recognition. But there is something deeply powerful about doing something that no one else sees. About opening your Bible in the quiet. About choosing prayer over distraction. About building a rhythm that is not for display, but for your soul.

May you be encouraged today that the time you spend with God is not wasted. It does not need to be publicized to be powerful. The quiet, unseen moments are often where God does His deepest work.

Today, remember that your Father sees what others do not.

And that is more than enough.

Prayer

Lord, help me center this season on You. Whether I am fasting or simply creating space, let it be real and not performative. Teach me to pursue You in the secret place, and remind me that what is done for You in private is never wasted. In Jesus’ name, amen.

42 Days Until Easter

John 11:25–26

“Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.’”

One of the unique rhythms of Lent is that every Sunday carries a different tone. While the days leading up to it are marked by reflection, repentance, and even a kind of spiritual fasting, Sunday breaks through with a reminder that we are not walking toward the cross without hope. Every Sunday is a quiet echo of Easter.

In the middle of a season that invites us to slow down, examine our hearts, and even sit in some discomfort, we are reminded of something unchanging. Jesus is the resurrection and the life.

That means that even now, life is breaking through.

In John 11, Jesus speaks these words in the middle of grief. Lazarus has died. The situation feels final. There is confusion, sorrow, and a sense that things did not go the way they were supposed to. And it is right there, not after everything is fixed but in the middle of the tension, that Jesus declares who He is.

“I am the resurrection and the life.”

Not I will be. Not someday. I am.

That matters for us, especially in a season like this, because it is very easy for us to slip into routine and begin to believe that there are areas of our lives that are off limits to God. We can quietly accept that certain things will never change, certain situations will never turn, certain prayers will never be answered.

But as we move closer and closer to Easter, we are reminded of something greater.

There is nothing outside of the resurrection power of Jesus.

Lent is not about sitting in heaviness without hope. It is about learning to see clearly. It is about recognizing that even in repentance, even in surrender, even in the wilderness, resurrection power is already at work.

This is why Sundays matter.

They remind us that the story is not over.

They remind us that death does not win.

They remind us that whatever feels final in your life right now is not beyond the reach of Jesus.

You may still be walking through something unresolved. You may still be waiting. You may still be carrying questions. But today is a reminder that life is found in Him, not just at the end of the journey, but right here in the middle of it.

As you move through this Lenten season, do not lose sight of that.

We are walking toward Easter.

And even now, resurrection is already breaking through.

Prayer
Jesus, thank You that You are the resurrection and the life. In the middle of this season, remind me that hope is not distant. It is present in You. Strengthen my faith, meet me in the tension, and help me trust that You are working even now. In Jesus’ name, amen.

43 Days Until Easter

Matthew 4:1–2

“Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. And after fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry.”

One of the most important things to understand about the wilderness is that Jesus did not wander into it by accident. He was led there. “Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness…” That changes how we see everything. The wilderness is not always a sign that something has gone wrong. Sometimes it is exactly where God is doing His deepest work. Sometimes it is the place where distractions are stripped away, where dependence is formed, and where identity is clarified.

Right after His baptism, right after the Father declares, “This is my beloved Son,” Jesus is led into a place of testing. Not away from God, but into a place where His trust in the Father would be strengthened and revealed. That is often how God works in our lives as well. There have been seasons in my own life, especially in between jobs or in transitions between ministry seasons, where things felt dry and uncertain. In those moments, it is easy to assume that something is off, that maybe you missed something or that God has stepped back.

But looking back, those were not wasted seasons.

They were forming seasons.

They were wilderness moments where God was doing something deeper than I could see at the time.

Jesus fasts for forty days. He is physically hungry, but spiritually anchored. He is not scrambling or panicking. He is grounded in the Word and secure in His identity. Lent is meant to mirror that kind of formation. This is a season where we intentionally step into a kind of wilderness, where we remove distractions, create space, and allow ourselves to feel the absence of what we have given up so that we become more aware of our need for God.

And that can feel uncomfortable. When the noise quiets down, we begin to notice things. Our dependence on comfort, our habits of distraction, and the ways we try to satisfy ourselves instead of trusting God. But that is where transformation begins. The wilderness is where we learn that God is enough.

Today, if this season feels slower than you expected or quieter than you are used to, do not rush past it. Lean in. God may be doing more in the wilderness than you realize.

Prayer
Lord, help me trust You in the wilderness. When things feel dry or uncertain, remind me that You are still at work. Use this season to strip away distraction and deepen my dependence on You. Form me in the quiet places, and anchor me in Your truth. In Jesus’ name, amen.

44 Days Until Easter

Psalm 46:10

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

One of the hardest things for us to do is slow down. Not because we do not want to, but because everything around us is moving so fast. We live in a world filled with noise, constant input, and the quiet pressure to always be doing something. Even our spiritual lives can begin to feel like another space where we are trying to keep up, stay consistent, and get it right.

But Scripture invites us into something very different.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

This is not just a calming verse. It is a command that carries deep trust. It is an invitation to stop striving, to loosen our grip, and to remember that God is already holding everything together.

Stillness is not inactivity. It is surrender. It is choosing to pause long enough to recognize that we are not in control, and that we do not have to be.

And if we are honest, that can feel uncomfortable.

For many of us, the challenge begins the moment we wake up. I know for me, I have used my phone as an alarm for quite some time. The goal is simple, just turn off the alarm. But within the first few moments of the day, notifications are already waiting. Messages, updates, alerts that came in overnight. And before I even realize it, my day has started at full speed. It feels like a shotgun start, like the race has already begun.

When our day begins that way, it becomes very difficult to create any real stillness. We are already reacting. Already moving. Already carrying things we were never meant to pick up first thing in the morning.

That is why this season matters.

Even in writing this, I am making a conscious decision to not allow myself to be bombarded by notifications during the first portion of the day until I have had time with the Lord. This is a discipline I have practiced before, and it was incredibly fruitful. And I am looking forward to stepping back into that rhythm during these days leading up to Easter.

Lent invites us to create space.

Not just by removing something, but by replacing it with something better.

It might be as simple as a few quiet minutes before the noise begins. A moment to open Scripture. A moment to pray. A moment to breathe and remember that God is already present.

Because in that stillness, something shifts.

We begin to remember who God is.

He is not hurried. He is not overwhelmed. He is not reacting.

He is God.

And we are not.

Today, take a moment to be still. Not to accomplish anything. Not to prove anything. Just to sit before the Lord and remember.

He is God.

Prayer
Lord, teach me how to be still. Quiet the noise in my life and in my heart. Help me create space to meet with You before the distractions begin. Remind me that You are in control and that I do not have to carry everything. Draw me into Your presence today. In Jesus’ name, amen.

45 Days Until Easter

1 John 1:9

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

One of the greatest gifts of Lent is that it gives us space to be honest. Not performative, not polished, not pretending, just honest. Confession is one of the most misunderstood parts of the Christian life. For many people, the word immediately carries a sense of shame. We assume that if we bring our sin into the light, God will respond with disappointment or frustration. But often, it is not necessarily that we believe God Himself would respond that way. It is that the world would respond that way. And because we have experienced that kind of reaction from people, we take those attributes and we begin to project them onto God.

But Scripture paints confession in an entirely different light. Confession is not a threat. It is an invitation.

John says, “If we confess…” That one word matters. If. Not when you have fixed yourself. Not when you have cleaned everything up. Not when you feel worthy. If you confess. And then comes the promise: “He is faithful… to forgive.” The reality is that many of us stack shame over and over again in our lives until we feel like we are carrying a massive deficit. The idea of getting that removed can feel overwhelming. Confession becomes scary, especially in the modern church age, because we often carry a view of Christianity that is polished and Sunday morning ready. So the thought of confession feels like admitting we have fallen short.

But the reality is quite the opposite. When we confess, it actually positions us correctly before the cross. Confession is not moving away from God. It is moving toward Him. It is agreeing with Him about what is broken so that grace can cleanse what is broken. It is embracing the faithfulness God has demonstrated over and over again. The enemy wants sin hidden, because hidden sin grows. But God invites sin confessed, because confessed sin is cleansed.

Lent is not about proving you are strong. It is about admitting you are not. It is about returning again to the grace that is already waiting for you. You do not have to carry what Jesus came to forgive. Today, begin simply with honesty. God is faithful.

Prayer
Lord, thank You that confession is not condemnation but mercy. Give me courage to be honest before You. Cleanse what needs cleansing. Heal what needs healing. And remind me today that You are faithful to forgive because of Jesus. In His name, amen.

46 Days Until Easter

Joel 2:12–13

“Yet even now,” declares the Lord, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; and rend your hearts and not your garments.” Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love…

Today begins Lent, and before we go anywhere else, I want to take a moment to explain what this season actually is, because there is often confusion right at the start.

People will say, “Lent is 40 days,” and that is true. But if you actually count the days from Ash Wednesday to Easter, you will quickly realize it is not 40. It is 46. Historically, the Church has called Lent the “40-day season” because it mirrors the great wilderness patterns of Scripture. Jesus fasted for 40 days. Israel wandered for 40 years. Moses was on the mountain for 40 days. Forty is the biblical number of preparation, testing, and drawing near to God.

The reason the calendar includes 46 days is because Sundays are not counted as fasting days. Every Sunday is meant to be a celebration of resurrection. Even in the middle of repentance, the Church has always said, “We do not forget Easter is coming.” Lent is 46 days on the calendar, but 40 days in the spiritual rhythm, and that is exactly what this journey is meant to be. A slow walk toward the cross. A daily return.

And part of that return, for many believers throughout history, has included fasting or giving something up. Not as a way to earn God’s love, but as a way to make space for God. Lent is an invitation to let go of something that dulls our spiritual hunger so that we can be more aware of Jesus.

Now, if you are reading this and you have not picked something yet, take a deep breath. There is plenty of time. This is not about getting it perfect on Day 1. It is about posture. You can start simply.

Maybe you give up social media scrolling. Maybe you fast from a certain comfort food. Maybe you step away from constant noise, streaming, or distraction. Maybe you choose to replace fifteen minutes of mindless consumption with fifteen minutes in Scripture and prayer. The point is not the thing itself. The point is what the thing reveals and what the space creates.

That is why the Lord says through Joel, “Rend your hearts, not your garments.” God is not after surface-level religion or performative sacrifice. He is after you. Lent is not about proving something. It is about coming home.

And the beautiful thing is this: we return not to an angry God, but to a gracious Father. Joel reminds us that the Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. This is the invitation at the beginning of Lent.

Yet even now, return.

Over the next 46 days, my prayer is that The Morning Rise becomes a daily anchor for you. A steady rhythm in the morning. A way to walk with Jesus toward Easter with humility, clarity, and hope.

This is not about perfection. It is about returning.

Prayer
Jesus, as we begin this Lenten journey, we return to You. Not with empty religion, but with honest hearts. Give us wisdom as we fast and make space for You. Strip away distraction, form us in the quiet, and prepare us for the cross and the resurrection ahead. We come back to You today. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Genesis 22:14

“So Abraham called the name of that place, ‘The Lord will provide’; as it is said to this day, ‘On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.’”

Genesis 22 is one of the most weighty chapters in all of Scripture. Abraham is led into a place of testing, a place of surrender, and a place where the outcome is not clear. It is not a comfortable moment, and it is certainly not a moment of control. Yet it is in that very place that God reveals something essential about His character.

He provides.

When the moment passes and the Lord intervenes, Abraham names the mountain with a declaration that will echo through generations: “The Lord will provide.” That statement is not sentimental. It is not a cliché. It is a confession forged in uncertainty, spoken by someone who has walked through the tension of not knowing what tomorrow will hold.

And that is why it connects so deeply with us.

Every one of us faces moments where we wonder how we are going to make it. Seasons where we question whether the Lord will come through, whether provision will arrive, whether strength will hold, or whether the path forward will open.

I remember when Erica and I were just about to get married and we were working out our first budget. We were wondering how in the world we were going to survive on one very, very small income while Erica was in grad school. We truly had no idea how it was going to work.

And then as we fast-forwarded into the next season of life, we wondered again how in the world it would work.

As we fast-forwarded into church planting, we wondered how in the world this was going to work.

And there are even times still today where we find ourselves asking, “God, how can this actually come to fruition?”

That is the human experience. Different seasons, same question.

Will the Lord provide?

Genesis 22 answers with a resounding yes.

God’s provision is not theoretical. It is not distant. It is not reserved for someone else’s story. The Lord meets His people in real places of need, and He supplies what is necessary in His perfect timing.

And the most important takeaway today is deeply personal.

No matter what season you are in, no matter what age you are, no matter what the need looks like right now, the Lord’s provision is present for you. Right there in your uncertainty. Right there in your testing.

On the mount of the Lord, it shall be provided.

Sometimes God provides materially. Sometimes He provides spiritually. Sometimes He provides endurance, clarity, peace, or courage. But He is always faithful to give His people what they need, exactly when they need it.

Today, may you rest in the name Abraham gave that mountain.

The Lord will provide.

Prayer
Lord, thank You that You are Jehovah Jireh, the God who provides. For the person reading this right now in the middle of uncertainty, remind them that Your provision is present. Help us trust You in the testing, and rest in Your faithfulness. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Genesis 21:17

“And God heard the voice of the boy…”

Genesis 21 contains both laughter and pain. The promised son has arrived, but the chapter also holds a quieter story of suffering in the wilderness.

Hagar and Ishmael are sent away. They wander. Their water runs out. Hope begins to fade. Hagar cannot bear to watch her son die, so she sits at a distance, weeping.

It is one of the most heartbreaking scenes in Genesis.

And then we read these simple words:

“And God heard the voice of the boy…”

Hagar may feel forgotten, but heaven is not silent.

This is one of the most comforting truths in Scripture: God hears in the wilderness.

All of us have had times where we were waiting on God to show up. I know I have. There have been moments where I genuinely questioned where God was in the midst of something.

And yet, it is often in those honest moments that God shows Himself in the most real kind of ways.

Wilderness seasons are not godless seasons.

Even there, the Lord sees.

Even there, the Lord hears.

Even there, the Lord provides.

And this is why the daily discipline of staying in God’s Word matters so deeply. Scripture is not only for the highest of highs. It is for the lowest of lows.

Build that habit muscle now.

Because when the difficult times come, you will have something to stand on.

The Word will be there for you.

The God of the Word will meet you there.

Today, if you feel like you are in a wilderness, take heart.

God hears.

And He is closer than you think.

Prayer
Lord, thank You that You hear us in the wilderness. When we feel forgotten or overwhelmed, remind us that You see, You know, and You provide. Help us stay rooted in Your Word in every season, so that when the dry places come, we have something steady to stand on. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Genesis 20:9

“Then Abimelech called Abraham and said to him, ‘What have you done to us?’”

Genesis 20 is a sobering reminder that integrity is never only personal. It is communal. Our decisions do not stay contained within our own hearts. They ripple outward.

Abraham enters a new region, and fear rises in him. Instead of trusting God’s protection, he falls back into an old pattern. He tells Sarah to say that she is his sister.

Now, technically, Sarah was a half-sister. Abraham was not speaking something entirely false.

But that is exactly where the lack of integrity is exposed.

Abraham uses a partial truth to conceal the full truth.

He speaks in a way that is intentionally misleading. He allows another person to believe something untrue, even if his words are carefully crafted to avoid an outright lie.

This is deception through omission.

Abraham knows exactly what he is doing. He is presenting Sarah as available, not as his wife, because he is afraid of what might happen if the truth is known. He is protecting himself at the expense of her safety and at the expense of the integrity of everyone around him.

And the consequences are immediate.

Abimelech takes Sarah into his household, believing he has done nothing wrong. An entire situation of potential sin and judgment unfolds, not because Abimelech is acting wickedly, but because Abraham has been unclear, evasive, and dishonest.

This is why Abimelech’s question is so piercing:

“What have you done to us?”

Abraham’s compromise did not stay private.

It endangered Sarah.

It implicated Abimelech.

It brought confusion into an entire household.

This is what integrity teaches us. Half-truths are not harmless. Misleading silence is not neutral. Fear-based deception always has ripple effects.

And often, the deepest integrity failures are not loud scandals. They are subtle distortions.

Saying just enough to sound truthful while hiding what is necessary.

Allowing others to draw the wrong conclusion.

Choosing self-protection over honesty.

Genesis 20 reminds us that integrity is not merely about avoiding lies. It is about being clear, truthful, and trustworthy in the way we represent reality.

And it also reminds us how easily fear can erode integrity.

Abraham had walked with God for years. He had received promises. He had built altars. He had seen God’s faithfulness.

And yet, in a moment of fear, he compromises again.

This is a warning and an invitation.

Fear will always tempt us toward concealment.

But faith calls us toward honesty.

The call of the believer is not perfection, but faithfulness. Not image management, but truthfulness. Not self-protection, but integrity.

Today, may we ask:

Where am I tempted to bend the truth out of fear?

Where am I choosing concealment over clarity?

And may the Lord make us a people whose yes is yes, whose word can be trusted, and whose lives bless rather than burden those around us.

Prayer
Lord, expose any place in my heart where fear is leading me toward dishonesty. Help me walk in integrity, not half-truths. Make me trustworthy, clear, and faithful in the way I live and speak. Let my life reflect Your truth. In Jesus’ name, amen.