Your will, not mine

“My soul is crushed with grief to the point of death,” Jesus told his followers. “Stay here and keep watch with me.” (Mark ‭14:34‬) Then he prayed to his Father, begging him to change the future, keep him safe from harm, to find some other way to save humanity. “Yet, I want your will to be done, not mine.”

How would it feel to know exactly how you were going to die, and the ways your body would be broken before you slipped into death? Jesus knew. He knew the people who welcomed him with palm fronds and song would be the same people spitting on him while he carried a cross, his body scourged, experiencing unimaginable pain on his way up the hill to where they’d watch him die. Jesus knew they’d drive stakes through his wrists and feet, anchoring him in place. He knew there was no escape, that his whole life of servitude led to this one moment when he’d give his life to save humanity. “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16) For Jesus so loved the world, that he laid down his life, suffering at our hands so that we could be saved. He could have taken the easy way out. He could have hidden away, stopped his message, kept it safe. He could have refused – after all, he was to lay down his life for those who wanted to crucify him.

I look at my own life and the tiny things God has asked me to do – “Daughter, forgive that person who’s wronged you.” ”Daughter, let go of your pride.” “Daughter, release control and lean on me.” “Daughter, trust that my plan is in place.” And I kick and scream, I hide away, “Lord, my will, not yours.” And despite my stubbornness, my fears, and my ego, God still calls me Daughter and patiently waits for me to come around. For he loved me so much, he offered his beloved son as the lamb, paying the price for my shortcomings, washing me clean from sin.

“Not my will, but yours,” Jesus relented, submitting to God, and to a horrible fate – all so that humanity could be saved. All so I could be saved. And then he walked into the arms of death, giving everything so I could have it all.

Thank you, Jesus.

Stepping forward in faith

“So Ananias went and found the house, placed his hands on blind Saul, and said, “Brother Saul, the Master sent me, the same Jesus you saw on your way here. He sent me so you could see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes—he could see again! He got to his feet, was baptized, and sat down with them to a hearty meal. Saul spent a few days getting acquainted with the Damascus disciples, but then went right to work, wasting no time, preaching in the meeting places that this Jesus was the Son of God. They were caught off guard by this and, not at all sure they could trust him, they kept saying, “Isn’t this the man who wreaked havoc in Jerusalem among the believers? And didn’t he come here to do the same thing—arrest us and drag us off to jail in Jerusalem for sentencing by the high priests?””

‭‭Acts‬ ‭9:19-21‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Saul/Paul had spent decades tormenting and killing believers in Jerusalem, but in 3 days, he changes his ways and begins preaching that Jesus is the Son of God. He didn’t need years of education to begin preaching. He didn’t need permission to share about his experience. He just needed his conviction and his story to share the Good News and inspire change. Just think, if Paul had let the fire burn out on how God’s miracle changed him, we may not know Jesus today. God used a man known for his brutally evil ways and changed the world through him.

It’s just one of many examples about how God can use anyone or any circumstance for good. He can use you and me. I think of all the times I’ve held back in my personal life, from faith to fulfilling dreams, and it makes me wonder just how horribly I was cheating myself. Education and experience are good things to have, but I sell myself short when I continuously wait in the wings, believing I’m not good enough, smart enough, educated enough, experienced enough. God created all of us for a purpose. When we hold back, we just might be telling God we don’t trust he knows what he’s doing. But when we step boldly forward, God can perform miracles through us.

New Year, New Life

I love New Year’s. Usually by the end of the year, I’m so ready for it to be done and for a new one to begin. This year was no exception. A lot of hard stuff happened in my community, namely, the Northern California fires. I’m ready to put a bow on this year and pack it way in the back of the hall closet, where it will be lost forever. I’m ready to start fresh, to wipe the slate clean, for all things to be new.

But you know what? We have this opportunity every day, even every moment. This is what I love about being a Jesus follower: I get to start over fresh when I mess up. God is not keeping a running tab of the ways we’ve failed, he’s waiting for us to come to him and start fresh. He forgives us everything. This is what Jesus’ sacrifice did for us. We get a New Year every time we need it.

Doesn’t that take the pressure off?

So, if there’s something weighing on your shoulders, something you hope God doesn’t see, first off, know that God does see it. But second, know that God loves you and wants the best for you.

Third, know that God loves you even if you think you can’t walk away from that sin.

Fourth, know that God is waiting with open arms for whenever you’re ready to let go of that sin.

And fifth, know that once you let that sin go, God wants you to move forward with him, not backward with guilt and shame.

When it’s done, it’s done.

It’s a New Year. It’s a New Life. ❤️

Dark night of the soul

Dear God,

Today I’m in a bad space. I’m stuck under a dark cloud I can’t escape. All I can do is focus on all the ways I’ve failed: the terrible books I’ve written, the weight I’ve put on, the time I’ve wasted, how I’m just washed up, old, ugly, and will never amount to anything. You’ve blessed me with so much, and all I can be is unhappy. That is just one more way I’m failing. I can’t be happy with what I have.

I don’t know how to escape these feelings. Perhaps I should just be happy with what I have, stop striving for more. But I can’t. I thought for sure I’d have been successful with my books by now. But this last book I published was a flop. No one is reading it, and honestly, I now doubt it’s any good. I’m no good. I used to think I was, but every book seems to be getting worse. I know less now than I did in the beginning. I believe in myself less. I’m afraid I’m going to die ordinary, and this scares me to death.

I need your help more than ever. I wish you’d fix this by just giving me what I want, but I know that’s not how you work. I know you want me to find happiness and joy in you, and in what I already have. I know you want me to stop being jealous of other people’s success, and to make the life of my dreams instead of sitting in misery. But I don’t know how! I’m wearing lead boots here, and I’m drowning. The weight on my chest is unbearable. My self doubt is crippling. My anger is killing me.

Please help me. Please take this burden. Please. I can’t do this alone.

Love, me.

Fat-shaming, finger-pointing, and God speaking through my dreams

The other night, I had a dream that my pastor stood before our congregation, angry with all of us. He was getting ready to roast every person in front of him. He started with a young girl in the front row, telling her she was so fat, she couldn’t fit into any of her clothes. I saw this was going downhill quickly, and knew I needed to step in to save this little girl’s feelings, and to head off any more ridicule coming toward anyone else. I moved forward, and he turned to me, his eyes blazing. I reached him, and rather than tell him what he was doing wrong, I wrapped my arms around him in a huge hug.

“Take a deep breath and hold it,” I told him. We were suddenly in water, just the two of us, and he took a deep breath and dunked himself under the water. I held him down gently to keep him from floating to the surface, and then released him when he was ready to come up for air. He was visibly calmer, and I asked him, “What would Jesus do?” At this, he softened. Then he reached forward to move my hair from my forehead as a sign of gratitude and immense kindness.

This dream stayed with me in the morning when I woke up. I remembered hearing once that when we dream, everyone in the dream is actually us. I realized that the dream wasn’t about my pastor or that little girl. It was about me.

I was the pastor. And I was the little girl he was ridiculing.

The night before, I had been trying on dresses to wear to an event in San Francisco. My selection had grown slim, as I’ve gained enough weight that my favorite dresses no longer fit. The red dress I chose to wear still looked cute on me, but in a chunky girl kind of way, and not the slender sexy way it used to fit. I had to force myself not to focus on my flaws—how my arms spilled out, my fleshy parts, my lack of waist, my swollen face… Obviously, I still focused. But I didn’t dwell.

Except for the dream…

So, the girl in the dream was obviously me, and she was being shamed for her weight by my pastor, who was also me. He/I was telling her/me how fat she was, how she lacked self-control, how none of her clothes fit, and that all this was her fault.

My fault.

But the focus of the dream wasn’t on me as the little girl, though I was definitely concerned for her feelings. The focus was on me as my pastor, who was being unkind and harmful to MYSELF about having lost my self-control so much that I’ve gained weight.

“What would Jesus do?” This scene was a reminder that in times of losing control (in anything, but particularly when I’m angry and about to unleash fury on others or myself), to take a deep breath and let it out slow. Then I’m to think about what Jesus would do in this situation.

How would Jesus treat me about my body?

First, he’d tell me I was special and unique. He’d tell me that each part of me was made with love and care, and to serve a purpose. The eyes I am seeing myself with are through a global lens. I am judging myself through society’s standards, which keeps everyone striving to reach an ideal that can never be reached (thanks, Photoshop). People like me, who have had kids and are growing older, are pushed out and made to feel like we don’t belong, all because we aren’t devoting our time to constant exercise and losing the battle to gravity.

Me, I’m comparing myself to 20-year-old girls at my gym who have never had kids, and have tight, perfect bodies. I’m comparing myself to people my own age who have devoted their lives to fitness and health, and look amazing because of it.

But I’ve devoted my life to writing, because that’s how God wired me. This means I’m doing a lot of sitting. Plus, my work is sedentary, and so is school and studying. I have a steep hill to climb to get fit, and often I don’t have the time or energy for anything more.

If Jesus were right in front of me, talking face-to-face, he would remind me about how I was wired, why I’m shaped this way, and tell me to not get distracted from my life purpose, which is to change the world through writing.

sanctuaryBut then he’d go on. He’d remind me that my body is two things—the temple for God’s Holy Spirit, and a gift from God. In that, I should treat my body with care. That means feeding it nutritious foods and moving it through exercise. I don’t need to suffer in this to reach an extreme ideal. I just need to treat my body with kindness, doing what I can to provide it with good health and preservation.

The final part of my dream was my pastor/me showing me how grateful he was that I corrected him through love and kindness rather than condemnation. Judgement and condemnation never work with anyone, not with ourselves and not with those around us. We see this all the time, from the political storms and divided fronts in our nation, to the financial differences that separate us by class, from different parenting styles, different ways to love, differences of faith, differences of opinion… When we lash out at someone we disagree with, each side holds on to their point of view, and no one bends. It becomes a feud, and condemnation and judgement fuel that feud.

The other day, my son and I got into a huge fight over chores. Both of us were seeing red, and we each said some pretty horrific things to each other. As things escalated further, it occurred to me that neither one of us was bending. I chose that moment to stop and go over to him. I grabbed him and hugged him. My 6-foot-tall, stubborn 16-year-old child put his arms around me and started to cry. It came out that he was troubled because it was his dad’s birthday, and he hadn’t talked to his dad in over a month, even though his dad had tried to reach him. On this day, my son called and left a voicemail message when his dad didn’t pick up. But as the hours passed by and he received no call back, my son was racked with fear that his dad hated him, and guilt that it was his fault (his dad called later, and everything was fine).

If I hadn’t stopped and hugged my son, we would have remained in this feud, plus my son would have these terrible feelings he couldn’t handle. We never would have reached the root of the issues.

Judgement and condemnation don’t work for ourselves, either. When we hold ourselves to the world’s standards, we forget that we are beautiful creations of God, and instead see ourselves as imperfect and ugly. We feel hopelessness, because achieving these standards feels out of reach. Then we compensate by giving up, choosing not to exercise because “what’s the point?”, or feeding our feelings with comfort food, which mends the hurt temporarily, but only causes more pain in the long run.

The other night, I filled myself on chips and tacos while hanging out with friends, and then ended my meal with ice cream—something I know doesn’t work with my system. I was already feeling rotten when I started eating it, and halfway through I felt terrible. I still wanted that ice cream, though, even though I felt worse with every bite. I had to force myself to put it down. That night, I was in so much pain, and I curled up in a fetal position half the night, wishing to fall asleep or die…all for a moment of good tasting food.

When we choose things other than God to give us comfort, it’s never forever. It’s for a moment. I did not need that ice cream, or all the chips I ate. The pleasure they gave me was only in the time I was eating them. But they were poisoning my body, my gift from God, my temple to his Holy Spirit. I knew the consequences. This wasn’t about striving for an ideal weight and failing, it was about poisoning the gift God gave me. There were healthy options there, and I chose the poisons.

Back to judgement and condemnation. When I looked in the mirror the next day while trying on the red dress, I saw every flaw. But I missed the miracle. I am not my flesh, though it’s a part of my body. I’m not my fat and rolls, or my swollen parts. I am not my extra 40 pounds.

I am a gift. My body is a blessing. God gave me the ability to walk, and to be healthy. He created me the way he wanted me, to serve a unique purpose. He sees me as beautiful.

My job is to remember my body is a gift, and to treat it with gratitude through healthy measures. This includes my thoughts.

So the last part of the dream, where my pastor moved the piece of my hair from my forehead, that was ME being loving to ME, treating myself with Agape love, feeling grateful for kindness in an unkind situation, and seeing myself as God sees me.


1 Corinthians 6:19-20 – You know that your body is a temple where the Holy Spirit lives. The Spirit is in you, and is a gift from God. You are no longer your own. God paid a price for you. So use your body to honor God.

2 Timothy 1:7 – God’s spirit doesn’t make cowards out of us. The spirit gives us power, love, and self control.

Ephesians 2:10 – For we are God’s handiwork (poema, masterpiece), created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Psalm 139:14 – I will give thanks to you, for I am wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful. My soul knows that very well.

Romans 8:1 – There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who don’t work according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit.

1 Samuel 16:7 – Man looks at outward appearance, but Yahweh looks at the heart.

Thank you, God, for revealing how you see me, for reminding me of your power of love, and for speaking so clearly to me. You created me beautiful, wonderful. My body is a gift, a miracle, your Temple. You seem though eyes filled with pride and love. I am so thankful for this body you have blessed me with. It serves me well, allowing me to move, breathe, love… It isn’t perfect in the eyes of the world, but it is in your eyes, and to serve your purpose. I will do my best to treat it with kindness by feeding it nourishing foods and moving it with exercise to keep it limber, finding my comfort tin your, and in my conscious decision to honor you and your Temple through healthy habits. I am not perfect, and I know I’ll make mistakes. But you don’t require perfection. You love me as I am, and that is all the motivation I need to keep pushing forward and letting you be my comfort over everything else.

Thank you for you blessings. I love you. Amen.

The right way to support a friend going through hard times

helping hand

Today I received an education, and I’m sitting inside a tiny shame storm. Here’s what happened.

One of my good friends updated her Facebook status to speak out against memes that claim hardships make us stronger. She disagreed, and took issue with this statement.

I have a strong opinion on this, and it’s taken years to feel this strongly about it. I read her statement, and I thought of the hardships I’ve gone through. I thought about the years I stayed in an abusive marriage. I thought about the day I found out that my 7 month pregnancy was about to end in stillbirth because my baby had died. I thought about laying on a couch in a dark room, longing for light but unable to see it because I was so far gone in my depression. I remember struggling in poverty, raising kids on my own, withering away at my job, feeling overwhelmed, feeling strangled by jealousy… And then I thought about getting through these hardships and coming to the other side.

“Once I was out of it and had some distance from it, I realized there were bigger picture things that happened because of those struggles,” I wrote to my friend on her status update. “Some things paved the way for better things. Others gave me insight so that I could help someone else struggling through it. ALL of them made me stronger.”

I continued to give carefully-thought-out tips on dealing with grief and how to react, and how hardships really can make you stronger, and so on.

In other words, I was unhelpful.

You see, my friend is going through a very rough patch in her life. She’s recently experienced a few setbacks that have rocked her world and made her question everything she believes in. She’s slowly been withdrawing from activities and organizations that once meant a lot to her. She’s devastated by the way the world is right now, from her personal world to the world as a whole.

The last thing she needed was a lecture.

I posted a 6 paragraph response to what she wrote, trying to help her see that we actually can become stronger from our hardships. I felt compelled to do it, like it was the right thing to do as a Christian, and it was the right thing to do as someone who has overcome struggle and is now on the other side. I shared scripture and the meaning to it, trying to back up my claim. And I told her I believed in her.

I felt pretty good about myself after I posted it, believing I could help her see the light. But then I started to receive feedback.

Now, feedback on the internet is a scary place. I work at a newspaper—I see the comments. People can get downright nasty when they don’t agree with something. But let me tell you something…I was met with disagreement about what I posted, but all disagreeing comments were shared to me with love.

All of them.

“Sometimes the kindest words can feel like a knife wound at the wrong time and it's hard to let the kind intentions of others into our own dark space,” one friend wrote. She reminded me that “listening and caring can sometimes be the same thing.”

And that’s what I forgot.

I was so intent on sharing what I’d learned, to offer my experiences and insight, I completely forgot that this isn’t about MY experience. It’s true that we go through hard things, and then we learn something deeper about ourselves. We may even learn some of the secrets to life, and we want to shout it from the rooftops. But there are times when saying nothing is actually better than saying something.

Sometimes saying “me too” or “I’m so sorry you’re hurting right now” or “I care about you” are better than trying to solve the problem. Sometimes just showing up and listening is better than anything else you can do. Sometimes it’s better to save that 6 paragraph post for your private journal, and offer unconditional support instead.

Finally, as I said earlier, it took YEARS to get to where I am on hardships and strength. It also took years to get on the other side of depression, a disease that sucked the life out of me. If someone had come to me during that time to tell me about hope, and that our hardships make us stronger, I would have stopped talking to them. I am lucky that this friend, and a few others, were gentle in correcting me. I don’t know if I could have had that much grace.

These were the lessons I learned from this.

First, put myself in the other person’s shoes completely before I try to “educate” them.

Second, the world would be a much better place if we all took the time to have a civilized and gentle conversation with the people we disagree with, aiming to offer a new perspective instead of shame.

Fools find no pleasure in understanding but delight in airing their own opinions. Proverbs 18:2

When others are happy, be happy with them, and when they are sad, be sad. Romans 12:15

“I will give you rest”

I’m in a very busy season of my life. I’m in the middle of midterms and gearing up for finals in college. Work has been crazy busy, and the stress just keeps mounting. I’m wrapping up the edits to my book and gearing to start editing another. I wake up early every morning so I can work or get homework done for several hours before my job. I haven’t been to the gym in weeks because there’s no time. My social life doesn’t exist anymore and I think my friends have forgotten me. I know I could be doing so much better as a mom, a wife, a granddaughter, a daughter, a friend, a disciple….

My English class got out early last night, and I had an hour of gifted free time. And you know what? I didn’t know what to do with myself. I think I find comfort in the busyness. It’s almost like I need to be constantly doing to feel safe. And I don’t even need to be doing something constructive. I need to be reading, watching TV, scrolling through my phone, checking my email, writing, and so on. I can’t just sit and be silent for a moment. 

I’m exhausted, and yet I can’t stop going. 

Jesus said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” 

I’ve been doing a lot of Bible reading lately. It’s how I start my day. Many morning I’ll even journal, reflecting on what I’ve read and working out a few issues, just like I’m doing now. This is all good, but without moments of silence throughout my day, I’ll never hear God speak to me. I’ll never hear his answer to the prayers I keep petitioning him with. Instead, I use pockets of time for social media, reading, listening to music… I avoid doing nothing almost as if I’m scared of it. Am I? And yet, God could just be waiting for the moment I finally STOP DOING and just be still. He could be waiting for me to come to him so he can give me rest. 

Come all you weary. My job is to show up. He’ll do the rest. 

God, the author of my story


In my critical thinking class last night, we discussed retrospective narration in a novel, such as in Jane Eyre, the book we’re currently reading. Retrospective narration is when the narrator is telling a story after everything has already happened. When they are telling the story, they already know how it will end.

God already knows how my story will end.

As people of faith, you’ve likely been told that all your life. God knows everything about you, he knows everything that’s going to happen to you; he has a plan. And yet, we often take that truth for granted, or fail to think about what that means. This is proved in times when we cry out against God for what’s going on in our lives or worry about what’s going to happen next. I’m not saying it’s wrong to do either of these things—we’re human, after all. However, we forget there’s a captain in charge, someone who has already charted the course. God knows the exact path to take to get to that end. He knows how to use our life to affect the path of other people’s lives. When bad things happen, you better believe there’s a reason.

For me, this means my path as an author. Most of my lamentations are in regards to how slow success is in this profession, my frustration with having to work so hard right now to make it happen, and the weight of self-doubt that’s constantly on my shoulders. Reading the above Psalm, plus recalling the discussion last night on retrospective narration, it hit me—God knows how this will end. He knows the exact moment my books will take off. He knows when I’ll be ready to handle success. He knows it all. And while I don’t like thinking about it, he even knows if this path is not the right one for me, but will lead me to the one that is.

“Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” Psalms 139: 16

I wonder how different my life would look if I started to trust that God knew the outcome, and everything was already falling place.

God, you knew me before I was born. You knew what I’d like and dislike, what I’d be passionate about, and the choices I‘d make. You know my whole story, beginning to end. You even know the moment I will stop fighting you on this journey and trust that you know what you’re doing. You know what you’re doing. I can’t promise to stop backseat driving, but Lord, I’m going to try. You know better than I do what needs to happen before I reach my destination. I’d prefer if you were the one driving.


I can never get through a baptism service with dry eyes


Our pastor surprised us today with an unannounced baptism service. I am usually prepared for these days. I go light on the eye make-up, and I bring a healthy stash of Kleenex. I know me. I will start bawling as soon as the first person steps up to be baptized.

Today was no exception. In fact, it was worse. Today, there were no planned baptisms. It was basically a time for anyone who felt the call to be baptized to step forward and do so. There was a chance that no one would step forward at all. But at least 6 people did come forward and proclaimed their life to Jesus in front of our church. And I was a blubbering mess.

I got to thinking about why I cry every single time there’s a baptism. I think it’s because this is just the beginning for these people, and I know how much they have to look forward to. I also know how hard this path is, as well.

Perhaps it has more to do with my own journey than theirs. I remember what it was like when I made a purposeful choice to life my life as a Jesus follower, how it felt to be so on fire. Shortly after my baptism, I had a stillbirth, we fell deep into poverty, I was a battered wife, I got divorced, I became a single mother, I became lost… I went through a dark time in my faith, one where, even after proclaiming my life under Jesus, I chose to step outside my faith in my actions. I asked God to look away for a while so that I could live life according to my rules. I know now that God doesn’t work that way. He knows all. He sees all. And he loves me anyway.

Life now, it’s so much different. My faith is stronger. I am well aware of my blessings. I’m safe. I’m loved. And I love Jesus. I can feel God near me almost all the time. When I don’t, it’s because I’m not paying attention.

When I see someone getting baptized, I cry because I know that this is just the first step to a beautiful journey, and there is so much they’re about to experience. I cry when I see their family and friends surround them as they make such a life-changing decision. I cry because I know our Father in Heaven sees this and is so pleased with his child coming back to him. I cry because being wrapped up in God’s love and grace is such a wonderful feeling, and I wish everyone could understand how that feels.

For you are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus. And all who have been united with Christ in baptism have put on Christ, like putting on new clothes.  There is no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male and female. For you are all one in Christ Jesus. And now that you belong to Christ, you are the true children of Abraham. You are his heirs, and God’s promise to Abraham belongs to you.  Galatians 3: 26-29

Prayer to Do Good

This prayer was in my devotions today, and it struck a cord. It reminded me of all the times I’ve been unpleasant or huffy because someone was inconveniencing me, or when I referred to another driver as an idiot because they cut me off, or when I just failed in general to be kind because it was inconvenient or I was more interested in acceptance from my peers.
How many times have I fallen into actions that were against the Kingdom of God? Countless times.

It’s easier to think about my own worth, my own comfort, how to make things convenient for me, or how to reward myself. It’s easy to step on others while I make my way to the top. It’s easy to think mean thoughts, and to say them aloud to make myself feel better. But when I submit to my own selfish ways, I am at war with the Kingdom.

This was not what Jesus called me to do.

Jesus called me to deny myself and take up my cross in the name of God (Matthew 16:24), and to do all things for Him and not for mankind (including myself) (Collosians 3:23). This life is not about what is best for me, but rather, how I can help gain souls for Heaven. How can I save mankind from a life away from God? I tell you one thing, it’s not by looking out for my own best interest. It’s about showing Jesus to the world. In this, all my actions should be like His. So when unexpected work lands on my plate, or a coworker wishes to gossip about another, or someone cuts me off in traffic, I am to think first about how Jesus would handle this situation, and then act accordingly.

None of us strive to be more selfish and self-serving, and yet, that is often how we act. May we instead lose ourselves so that we can gain the world.

“Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross, and follow me.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭16:24‬ ‭

“Work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people.” Collosians 3:23

Lord, thank you for revealing ways I can please you more, and how to serve you better. You offer me grace, even in times when I am blind to the wrong I do. I am not perfect, and I have a far way to go to resemble your Son. But you love me in spite of myself, and you wish for me to do better. I will try my best. Amen.