Good morning, friend.

If we were sitting across the table from one another this morning, coffee between us, I think I would tell you about something I’ve been noticing as I’ve written my book and spent so much time looking back through more than thirty years of journals. There have certainly been significant moments with Jesus along the way, times when He spoke clearly, redirected me, met me in pain, or answered a prayer in a way I will never forget. But the more I look back, the more I realize that those aren’t necessarily the moments that have formed me most.

I think it has been the returning.

Most mornings, I open Scripture. Sometimes I journal about what I’m reading or what is happening inside me. Sometimes I talk with Jesus, and sometimes I simply get quiet in my own soul and invite Him to speak whatever He might want to speak. There are mornings when there aren’t many words at all, just a sense of peace and the gift of being with Him.

And then there are mornings when I come carrying much more. My thoughts are racing, I’m wrestling with something I don’t understand, or I’m trying to figure out a situation I cannot fix. On those mornings, I don’t have to make myself peaceful before I come to Jesus. I can bring Him the chaos, the questions, the fear, the frustration, whatever is actually there, and allow my time with Him to become an act of surrender. Sometimes nothing outside of me changes during that time, but He ministers to my soul in the middle of it.

Maybe that is what I’ve become most aware of as I’ve looked backward. Day after day, year after year, this small practice of returning to Jesus and opening His Word has been doing something in me that I couldn’t necessarily see while it was happening. My circumstances haven’t always changed, but slowly and surely, I have.

The way I perceive things has changed. The way I see people has changed. The way I respond when life doesn’t go as I hoped has changed. I’m more able to recognize when something is happening inside me and bring it to Jesus rather than simply reacting from it. And as I begin my day grounded again in His love for me, I can ask Him to give me His eyes for the people I will encounter and the circumstances I will walk into.

I don’t know what the small act of faithfulness will be on any particular day. It changes. There may be someone who needs me to slow down and listen, an opportunity to encourage, a moment when extending grace costs me something, or an ordinary responsibility that simply needs to be tended with care. I don’t need to decide what that will be before the day begins. I simply want to remain close enough to Jesus to recognize the invitation when it comes.

I wonder if this is part of the quiet miracle of remaining.

Scripture Reading

Jeremiah 15:16, NIV
Romans 12:1-2, NIV

Pause and Reflect

I have always loved Jeremiah’s description of God’s words: I ate them. He doesn’t simply say that he heard God’s words or understood them. He describes taking them into himself until they became nourishment for his soul.

The older I get, the more I understand that picture. I couldn’t possibly tell you every passage I’ve read during more than thirty years of mornings with Jesus. I don’t remember what I read on most ordinary Tuesdays, and I’m certain there have been countless mornings when I closed my Bible without feeling as though anything particularly significant had happened. But His Word was still feeding me.

We don’t expect to notice the effect of every meal we eat. We simply eat because our bodies need nourishment, trusting that what we take in is strengthening and sustaining us. Perhaps God’s Word works within us in much the same way. As we faithfully receive it, the Holy Spirit uses truth to renew our minds, sometimes challenging beliefs we didn’t realize we held, reminding us who God is when circumstances tempt us to believe otherwise, and slowly changing the way we see ourselves, other people, and the world around us.

Perhaps this is why, as I’ve looked back through all those journals, I can see changes I couldn’t see while they were happening. The transformation didn’t happen in one morning. It happened through thousands of ordinary mornings of returning to Jesus and receiving His Word.

This feels especially fitting as we continue thinking about what it means to remain. A mature sunflower isn’t straining to produce something new each day. It continues receiving what has sustained it all along: light, water, and nourishment through its roots. Much of what is happening is quiet and unseen, but it is still sustaining the life that has been formed.

Maybe remaining with Jesus looks a little like that. We keep coming. We open His Word, bring Him what is true, receive His love, and allow His Spirit to keep forming us from the inside out. Over time, what we continually receive begins to shape the way we live.

As you sit with Jesus today, where can you recognize that quiet transformation in your own story?

• Are there ways you respond differently than you once did?

• Has God’s Word changed the way you see Him, yourself, another person, or a difficult circumstance?

And perhaps there is something you’re carrying today that you wish were different. What would it look like to bring Jesus not only the circumstance, but what is happening inside you because of it? What truth from His Word might He be inviting you to receive there?

You don’t have to measure your growth today. Simply receive the nourishment God has for you and trust Him with what He is growing.

Soul Care Practice: Scripture and Stillness

This week’s Soul Care Practice isn’t about adding something new. In fact, I want to invite you into something beautifully ordinary.

Choose a small, consistent space each day to return to Jesus, and begin by opening His Word. You don’t need to search for the perfect passage or pressure yourself to discover something profound. Read slowly enough to receive what is there, trusting that Scripture is nourishing you even when you cannot immediately identify what it is doing.

Then notice what is happening inside you as you sit with Him. If you have words, talk with Jesus. If journaling helps you pay attention, write. If your soul needs quiet, become still and invite Him to speak whatever He might want to speak. If your thoughts feel chaotic, don’t wait until you’ve settled them to come to Him. Bring Him the chaos as an act of surrender and allow Him to meet you there.

And if there is simply peace, receive it. You don’t have to make something happen.

Before you move into your day, you might simply pray:

Jesus, thank You that I am loved by You. Renew my mind through Your Word and give me Your eyes today. Help me see the people, circumstances, and opportunities I encounter through the lens of Your love.

Then go live your day without trying to manufacture a spiritual moment. The opportunities for faithfulness will come, and they will probably look different from one day to the next. Trust Jesus to help you recognize them.

Carry It With You

This week, resist the temptation to measure your time with Jesus by how much you felt, learned, wrote down, or accomplished. Instead, pay attention to the quiet faithfulness of returning.

There will be mornings when Scripture feels alive and personal, and there may be mornings when you simply read it because you trust that God’s Word is nourishing you even when you cannot feel what it is doing. There will be days when you leave your time with Jesus with new clarity and others when you leave carrying the simple assurance that you have been with Him. Both matter because relationship isn’t measured only by remarkable moments.

So keep coming. Keep opening His Word. Keep bringing Him what is true. Keep receiving His love and allowing His truth to renew your mind. You may not be able to see the transformation happening today, but perhaps years from now, when you look backward, you’ll recognize that somewhere in all those ordinary mornings, Jesus was quietly changing the way you saw everything.

The circumstances may not always change, but slowly and surely, as we remain with Jesus, we do.

Prayer

Jesus,

Thank You for meeting me in the ordinary places of my life. Thank You that I don’t have to come to You with a quiet mind, perfect words, or everything figured out. I can simply come as I am and trust that You are glad to meet me here.

Give me a hunger for Your Word and help me receive it as nourishment for my soul. Renew my mind with Your truth, gently revealing anything in me that needs to be surrendered, healed, corrected, or seen through the lens of Your love.

When my thoughts feel chaotic, teach me to bring them to You. When I have questions, help me trust You with what I don’t understand. When there is simply peace, help me receive the gift of being with You without feeling the need to make something happen.

And as I move into my day, would You give me Your eyes? Help me see the people and circumstances around me through the lens of Your love so that when the small opportunities for faithfulness come, I am close enough to You to notice.

Thank You for the quiet work You are doing in me as I remain with You.

In Your precious name, Amen.

Until Next Monday…

Until next Monday, friend, keep returning. Open His Word, bring Him whatever is happening within you, and trust that even when you cannot see it, Jesus is faithfully forming something in you.

Sometimes the deepest transformation of a life happens one ordinary morning at a time.