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In the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land, and a man from Bethlehem in Judah, together with his wife and two sons, went to live for a while in the country of Moab. The man’s name was Elimelech, his wife’s name Naomi. Ruth 1:1,2

After Israel entered the Promised Land, they settled into ease. A new generation was born, one that had never trudged the desert, never known hunger or battle. They lived in comfort—but they did not know the Lord. The miracles that carried their fathers through wilderness and war faded into distant memory. The landscape of faith grew barren. Israel plunged headlong into three hundred years of spiritual night.

It is here, in this backdrop of silence and famine, that Elimelech and Naomi’s story begins. Bethlehem—the house of bread—was emptied of bread. Hunger drove them into Moab, a land God had forbidden. They left searching for fullness, but found only sorrow. Tragedy met them in that foreign place, and their losses would become the dark soil out of which God would one day bring redemption.

God had led them into a hallway of transition. Behind them the door of familiarity closed; before them, another door flickered faintly with light, though the distance was shadowed and uncertain. They stood in the in-between—disoriented, fearful, stripped of control. For Naomi, it would be a season of bitterness, instability, and grief. Yet in that darkness, God was at work. What seemed like silence was preparation. What felt like loss was making room for joy.

I have walked that hallway, too. When the props I leaned on collapsed, when fear froze me in place, I had nowhere to turn but God. And in the dark, He spoke. He untangled lies I had believed, revealed the fault lines in my faith, and rewrote the hidden scripts of my heart. A hallway is not wasted wilderness. It is holy ground—if we let God meet us there. For Naomi it was. For me it was. And for anyone who dares to stay and not run, it still can be.

I needed the dark to see my need for You. Loving Father, Your ways, though they looked severe, were most kind. Amen

In the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land, and a man from Bethlehem in Judah, together with his wife and two sons, went to live for a while in the country of Moab. Ruth 1:1

Canaan—the land once flowing with milk and honey—no longer bore the marks of abundance. Bethlehem—the “house of bread”—stood empty of bread. What had been promised as a place of blessing now throbbed with barrenness. God had long warned His covenant people of this very outcome: disobedience would drain the land of its bounty. The soil would be iron beneath their feet, the trees withholding their fruit, their strength spent in futility. His word was unmistakable: “If you remain hostile toward me and refuse to listen, I will multiply your afflictions seven times over, as your sins deserve.” (Leviticus 26:20–21).

At first glance, Elimelech’s decision seems noble—a father providing for his family by leading them to food in a neighboring land. But the question pierces: should he ever have left Canaan? The famine was not merely an agricultural crisis; it was a divine summons to repentance. To abandon Canaan was to abandon the very place God had commanded His people to dwell. Moab was no refuge—it was forbidden ground. Rather than turning his heart toward Yahweh in repentance, Elimelech fled. Rather than trusting the God who could restore bread to Bethlehem, he transplanted his family into the land of idols.

Running never solves the fire of God’s refining. Unresolved issues follow us into every new place. When anger blazes, the answer is not escape but surrender—asking God to uncover its roots. When grief feels unbearable, the answer is not suppression but pouring it out before Him. When addiction clutches hardest, the answer is not distraction but facing the deep hunger beneath and yielding it to the Lord. Flight only multiplies the weight of our struggles. Ask Jonah—Moab is no hiding place.

Today remains the day of salvation. God, in His mercy, restrains judgment again and again, longing for His people to turn and live. He does not delight in famine or affliction but aches for us to repent, so He may pour out the blessings He has stored up. His discipline is never for our destruction, but always a summons home.

Frantic activity can often hide issues I’m afraid to look at, Father. I will be still to hear You speak. Amen

So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things. How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire!       James 3:5

I don’t know anyone who respects a bragger. Whether a politician or a family member, the audience rolls their eyes. The boaster really believes that telling his stories will impress people. It does the opposite.

My roots go back to a small New England town. In that town of 1200, there lived a man named Louie. He was a family acquaintance; in fact, we grew up thinking he was family because my aunt and uncle took him in when he was thirty and he never left.  He was present at every family event.  Louie amassed a small fortune at others’ expense, and money and power were his gods. He won a local election that made him the town’s supervisor, and his ego grew to epic proportions. I grew up hearing him boast of his political victories.

Not surprisingly, Louie assessed a person’s worth by how much they loved him! If he was fawned over, he returned it with a buttery kind of speech that would make most people blush. Cross him, however, and you become an enemy. He was a narcissist. Ethically, he was bankrupt, and morally, he was dangerous.

In the end, he was ill, weak, and vulnerable. Those who surrounded him were scavengers, out to benefit from his will and estate. He could trust none of them. Those who clamored for his riches massaged his ego. What he had spent a lifetime building was ultimately left to two con artists, who spent all that he had left them in three years. Today, these two women are poor and worse off than before taking part in their get-rich schemes.

The man of integrity walks securely, but he who makes his ways crooked will be found out. It’s a Proverb worth remembering. Those who walk the crooked path will be exposed. Hidden sin has a way of surfacing, and dishonesty ultimately unravels. Integrity may not always look glamorous, but it is the only path that leads to lasting peace and honor.

Remove the anxiety of hidden things, and replace it with the deep security of a clean heart. Give me the peace that comes when I have nothing to hide. Amen

But you will not go out in haste, nor will you go as fugitives; for the LORD will go before you, and the God of Israel will be your rear guard.  Isaiah 52:12

You know the feeling of being blindsided, don’t you?  It is to be caught unaware, to be provoked from an unexpected position.  Adrenalin surges and there’s hardly time to be still in order to collect your thoughts.

A tiny virus blindsided the world in 2020 and no matter your opinion on Covid, we can agree that it wasn’t an army that took us down.  It wasn’t a weather disaster that decimated our landscape by force.  It was a microscopic enemy, invisible to the eye.

These are still moments for us to gather our thoughts.  We are in unprecedented times.  God’s promise through Isaiah is that we need never need flounder without purposeful thoughts guiding us.  The LORD has gone before us into the future.  The LORD is behind us, a rear guard, protecting the weaker ones who could be left behind to face the enemy alone.  He gives us wisdom to know where to walk.  He frames our thoughts with divine perspective and peace.  Whether internal or external, His promises of parental care are relevant.

Oh, it’s possible to turn elsewhere for advice. King Saul, when under pressure, didn’t consult God and turned to a medium for guidance.  It was careless, sinful, and brought about his death. This is the time for each of us to press in to the God of the Ages for instruction.  Isaiah also said, “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way.  Walk in it.”’  

God promises that we need never suffer the mindset of someone who went out in haste.  If you’ve ever left your house in a hurry, you know that you ended up not having what you needed.  Had there been deliberate planning, provisions would have been at your fingertips. Today, you and I are not fugitives on the run, scavenging to get our needs met.  We stop to breathe in the Spirit.  We look toward heaven and ask God to still our wildly beating hearts.  We ask Him to clothe us with the mind of Christ.  We look to His Word to illumine our next steps, to jump off the page with precise application.  If fragile emotionally, financially, and in any other way, Christ is gathering us from behind and keeping us together as His protected bride.  We are on course and are living for such a time as this.

Never have I been safer and more loved, Jesus.  Amen

After these things God tested Abraham and said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” Genesis 22:1

I’ve spoken with three women, just this week, who believe God is testing them. He’s led each of them into the wilderness and the pain and pressure seem unbearable. Whether I am a new Christian or a seasoned believer, a time of testing challenges my view of God and how He loves His children. How can He say that I am the apple of His eye yet test me with pain? Can it really be that the resulting faith is so valuable that the testing is really a loving act, not a cruel one?

Abraham was told to sacrifice his own son on an altar. It’s inconceivable that God would ask such a thing, isn’t it?  So, I’m letting my unrest stand this morning. Questions are good. And though I already know the end of the story, Abraham didn’t. Like him, when testing comes, the pain that comes with it unearths the hidden things of my heart. What can stay conveniently veiled in good times erupts under stress. Lies and accusations abound when I may be unaware such things exist in my own soul. Perhaps this is one of the ‘gifts’ testing offers.

I’m jumping into the deep end of the pool. There are no shallow answers. Abraham was torn by his love for God and his love for his son. They appeared to be mutually exclusive. We can feel the tension without it eroding our faith. We can dare enter the story.

If you are in the middle of testing, it’s okay to allow your own questions to surface. God will lead us through the minefields and the experience will be profitable, not only to us, but to the people we encourage on the other side..

Lord, I want You to speak to me through this story. Only Your voice, Lord. Reveal Yourself and give me the treasures of the darkness. Amen

Never let the fire in your heart go out.  Keep it alive.  Serve the Lord.  Romans 12:11

When I read the biographies of great saints, whether biblical or historical, I’m always wide-eyed over their passion. I want what they had. God’s hand was on their shoulders and the fire of His Spirit went wherever they went.  He propelled their movements. 

Have you found yourself longing, even aching, to burn with a purpose that transcends what is earthly?   While that would be wonderful, there is a cost to embrace.  

• You may be in a marriage where faith has divided you.  Your home has hung together but perhaps that’s because you’ve toned down your Christianity.  You’ve made the puzzle pieces fit together by compromising your passion.  The cost for a life on fire will be that the puzzle pieces will no longer fit.  You will be out of sync (until your spouse embraces Christ and engages in the same journey).  You will obey Jesus instead of obeying your fear.  
• You may have a group of lifelong friends.  Down deep, you’re aware that you don’t really fit like you used to but they don’t know it yet. You’ve played it safe by not letting your love for Jesus and His kingdom ooze out in conversation.  You might fear that if you pursue the disciple’s life of passion, you will be alone, peculiar to your friends.  Following Jesus might mean starting over with new relationships. We must keep company with others on fire.
• You may be afraid of personal change.  You don’t know what you will be like if you give yourself completely to God.  It feels safe to stay the same.  It’s scary to become what you’ve never been before. 

One thing is for sure ~ our new lives will cause some heightened reactions, much like the resistance the disciples experienced.  We will be like Moses, faces on fire, causing those who are repelled to look away and those who are attracted to draw near.  We will be like Stephen who delivered his testimony with a sword, igniting the crowd to stone him.  I will be as the eleven disciples who challenged the god and philosophy of this world, marking themselves as ones who aligned with Jesus. 

One thing is sure.  Living this life is impossible without proper fuel.  Serving God will fizzle because the cost feels too expensive.  Make a decision today with your eyes wide open.

I love you, Jesus, and I have a passion to see You glorified.Make my life a burning bush.Amen

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.  John 1:5

Our enemy knows that God is Light.  He was once an archangel in heaven and saw the brilliance of the glory of the Father.  For much of eternity, he trembled and led the angels in worship.  He bowed in worship and led others to do the same before his appetite for power and autonomy corrupted him.  

Since Satan knows that Light overcomes darkness, why does he wage all-out war to wear out the saints?   And he shall speak great words against the most High and shall wear out the saints of the most High.  Daniel 7:25

• Doesn’t he know that God’s children will tap into the ‘surpassing power of God’s greatness to all who believe?”  (Ephesians 1:19) 
• Doesn’t he know that we are well aware that victory over him was declared at Calvary?  
• Doesn’t he know that we have read the scriptures, and we celebrate that Satan was paraded, in defeat and humiliation?  (Colossians 2:15) 
• Doesn’t he know that we put on the armor of God?  (Ephesians 6) 
• Isn’t he aware that Paul calls it the ‘armor of Light’?  (Romans 13:12) 
• Hasn’t he learned that we are aware of both our powerlessness in the flesh but our invincibility in the power of the name of Jesus?

Yes, he knows!  But he counts on the fact that, in times of distress, we will not stop to take stock of what is true about God, about His provisions and His promises.  He’s counting on us caving into overwhelming feelings.  He knows how hard it is to exercise faith in the throes of pain and distress.  He knows that our instinctive reactions in an emergency are emotions first, then thoughts.  He knows that by wearying us with battle after battle, we just might succumb to disillusionment and distrust in our Father.  What is the alternative?  

To believe that hardship is an opportunity to flex new faith muscles.  It is possible to sing through our tears.  When drowning under the sea of trouble, we will rely on the surpassing power of God’s greatness.  We will don our armor and put on Christ.  We will take the Light of the world into our fears, into the darkness of unbelief, into the chasm of sleeplessness, and into the worst of our ‘what ifs’ to discover that our foundation in Christ is solid as a Rock.  

The world shakes, but You, Lord, are unshakeable.  Amen

The deep love of Jesus, the kind that makes no earthly sense at all, is what compels me to write each morning.  My spiritual journey didn’t have a pretty beginning. I was never a little orphan girl, all dressed up and on good behavior.  I was undesirable.   I was lost before I was rescued.  Here’s how Ezekiel captured it. 

On the day that you were born, your umbilical cord was not cut, you weren’t bathed and cleaned up, you weren’t rubbed with salt, you weren’t wrapped in a baby blanket.  No one cared for you.  No one did one thing to care for you tenderly in these ways.  You were thrown out into a vacant lot and left there, dirty and unwashed – a newborn nobody wanted.  And then I came by.  I saw you all miserable and bloody.  I said to you, lying there and helpless and filthy, “Live!”  I took care of you, dressed you, and protected you.  I promised you my love and entered the covenant of marriage with you.  I, God, the Master, gave my word.  You became mine.  Ezekiel 16  THE MESSAGE

The ‘field’ is Satan’s ‘field of the unwanted’.  Newborns aren’t treasured in his wasteland of a kingdom.  He wants them because he doesn’t want God to have them.  They are dirty trophies, uncared for, bloody, un-swaddled, and languishing.  He will raise them on filth, a degrading kind of diet for those who will never know one moment of nurturing until they are rescued by LOVE.

Look at the intervention.  God saw the births.  Saw the discarded newborns, unable to do one thing for themselves.  Their umbilical cords were still uncut and rotting.  His reaction was not revulsion; it was compassion.  He spread His cloak over them, wrapped them up, and called them His.  “Live!” He spoke over them.  

This is the Gospel.  These were my beginnings.  God did it all.  Even though I was raised in a respectable, church-going family, presumed goodness begged to get in the way of seeing myself as a daughter of the darkness, in need of a Savior.  Unless I embrace the truth of who I once was, I will never respond with the depth of love that is possible for me to feel and then to express in worship.  This is what it is to be a Daughter of Promise.   

Jesus looked around and saw them following.  ‘What do you want?’ he asked them.  John 1:38 NLT

Two men were so drawn to Jesus after witnessing His baptism that they abandoned their plans and started following Him.  Jesus, sensing them behind Him, asked them, “What do you want?” 

I’m not sure they knew what it was they were seeking.  You know how it is when the Spirit of God stirs your heart and the impact is wordless, right?  You’re aware of something stirring but you can’t put words to it yet.  I believe this was what happened with these two disciples.  Jesus intrigued them both, but they didn’t fully know why.  Not yet. 

They answered Jesus.  “Where are you staying?”  In other words, we want to know where your home is because we want more time with you.  Jesus wasn’t put off.  He told them that He would take them to where he was currently living.  He was accessible then ~ and still is. 

Christianity is the only faith that is intimate.  Leaders of religious movements develop a leadership style that keeps their followers at a distance.  The bigger the movement, the more out of reach they become.  But Jesus remained accessible to the people.  His invitation was true and heartfelt.  “Come unto me, all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”   It was relevant in 30 A.D., and it’s relevant now as His Spirit comes close to draw me in. 

The King of Kings and Lord of Lords has numbered the hairs of my head, has kept every tear, and engraved my face and my name on the palms of His hands.  Every promise, He has written on my heart for safekeeping.

Jesus, as you were with these two disciples, You are with me.  In many ways, I’m unaware of my vast emptiness and Your great sufficiency unless I take you up on your invitation.  Amen