All Devotionals

God will never stop inviting me.

How does it feel to be personally invited to an event or a gathering?

Invitational God, invitation and exclusion are two sides of the same coin. It’s hard to think about one without thinking about the other. However, I know that you are a God who will never skip over me or leave me out. You are a God with open doors, personal invitations, room at the table, and a place with my name on it. Thank you for always inviting me. Amen.

God will never stop inviting me.

When was the last time you extended an invitation? Could you extend an invitation to someone this week?

Inviting Christ, you were so good at inviting people to join you. Whether you told them to drop their nets and follow you, or to simply join you for dinner, you extended invitations again and again. Give me that same courage. Give me that same vulnerability and awareness. Reveal to me where I can practice invitation in my own life, for if anything, I want to be more like you. In hope I pray, amen.

God will never stop inviting me.

What is God inviting you to experience, focus on, or let go of this Lenten season?

Inviting God, the season of Lent whispers an invitation in my ear to go deeper in faith and to draw closer to you. I want to heed the Spirit’s whisper, so today I pray—what would you have me focus on in this season? What work is mine to do? Where is my heart being tugged? Reveal your hope for me so that I might heed your call faithfully. Amen.

God will never stop inviting me.

Do you believe invitation is a spiritual practice?

Holy God, when I think of spiritual practices I often think of praying and fasting, reading scripture and offering generosity. I often think of quiet Sunday mornings and faithful disciplines. But could a dinner party invitation be a spiritual practice? Could the invitation to take a walk, to share a meal, or to laugh loudly over coffee be holy? Could a habit of invitation draw me closer to you? Help me to find the holy in the ordinary. Amen.

God’s love is delightfully surprising.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus’ ministry starts with joy. It begins with a wedding. What in your life is bringing you joy?

Celebrating Christ, your story begins with a dance floor, a wedding banquet, a happy couple, a community gathered. Your story begins with abundant joy. As I go through my days, teach me to be a curator of joy. May I see and appreciate the sparks of joy in my own life, and may they draw me closer to you. Amen.

God’s love is delightfully surprising.

Jesus tells stories about the Kingdom of God, and his stories almost always surprise us. What do you imagine the Kingdom of God to be like?

Storytelling God, you are constantly painting pictures of what the world could be. You can take one small seed and see the ramble of beauty it might become. I want to see the world in that same way. Give me the creativity to imagine beauty where there is none. Give me the persistence to imagine justice when injustice rages. Help me imagine what could be. Amen.

God’s love is delightfully surprising.

The Kingdom of God is described as a mustard seed—something small, but surprisingly powerful. How does this metaphor make you feel?

Creator God, you have told us that even small acts, small dreams, and small bits of love can make a difference. I need to hear this reminder because it is tempting to believe that the hurt in this world is out of my control. It is tempting to believe that I cannot make a difference, but you say otherwise. Remind me that I have planting to do. Remind me that even small acts can make great change. Amen.

God’s love is delightfully surprising.

When was the last time you were surprised by an act of love, generosity, or kindness?

Surprising God, so often we are surprised by bad news and taken hostage by the media cycle of the day; but from time to time, we are surprised by love. From time to time, we are surprised by joy. From time to time, we are surprised by hope. In a world full of surprisingly bad news, show me how to be someone who can surprise others with love, generosity, and kindness. Show me how to be someone who can fan the flame of good news. Amen.

God’s love is delightfully surprising.

What takes your breath away? Where are you most in awe?

Awesome God, the whole universe reflects your goodness. The stars at night shine like jewels in the deep. The trees tower over me, taller than anything I could build. The waves crash onto the shore, over and over, like the rhythm of your heartbeat. When I am too certain of what I know, when I am closed off to wonder and surprise, bring me back to the places where I can be awestruck. Remind me that you are more magnificent than anything I can imagine. Amen.

God’s love is delightfully surprising.

When has something unexpected changed your life for the better?

God of my days, time and time again I have been faced with a fork in the road, an opportunity to try something new. I could not have anticipated every open sky or winding path that the road might bring, but I know that you were with me every step of the way. Thank you for the roads less traveled that brought joy to my days. Thank you for the unplanned paths that taught me how to grow. Thank you for the changed plans that brought me closer to you. Amen.

God’s love is delightfully surprising.

How is God surprising you in this season?

Holy One, sometimes I get choked up when something beautiful crosses my path. Is that you in my midst? Sometimes I find myself tearing up from laughing so hard. Is that you in my midst? Sometimes the sky is such a radiant shade of pink and orange that I can hardly breathe. Is that you in my midst? Thank you for speaking to me through the moments of surprising beauty, joy, and wonder. I am grateful. Amen.

When I love my neighbor, I love God.

When you hear the word “neighbor” what comes to mind? Who do you picture?

Dear God, I know that your definition of neighbor is bigger than mine. I tend to see those who look or speak like me as my neighbors. Help me to see as you do. Help me to see the children on the news, a world away, as my neighbors. Help me see those I disagree with as neighbors. Help me to see the world as you do. With hope I pray, amen.

When I love my neighbor, I love God.

If you were to teach a child what it means to be a good neighbor, what would you say?

Dear God, I know being a good neighbor is more than sharing a cup of sugar. It’s choosing to assume the best, to speak with kindness, to lead with curiosity, and to love whenever possible. Help me remember that your invitation to be a good neighbor is always an invitation to love. Maybe it’s all that easy, and it’s all that hard. With hope for more love I pray, amen.

When I love my neighbor, I love God.

Who does your heart break for? What neighbors are you called to love, pray for, or pay attention to in this season?

With-us God, I worry for my neighbors who are hungry. I worry about those who are cold at night. I worry about my neighbors who are targets of oppression. I worry for my neighbors. Help me pay attention to that concern rattling around in my heart. Show me how to turn that worry into action. Show me how to use this worry as an invitation to do the good that is mine to do. With hope I pray, amen.

When I love my neighbor, I love God.

In the past, how have you practiced loving your neighbors? Moving forward, are there new acts of compassion you wish to embrace?

Holy One, teach me your ways. Teach me the expansive ways that I could love my neighbor as myself. I am sure that I can do more than offer just a prayer, so in the coming weeks and months, reveal the ways that I might embrace compassion. Give me eyes to see. Give me hands to serve. Give me words of love. Grant me a heart like yours. With gratitude I pray, amen.

When I love my neighbor, I love God.

Mother Teresa once said, “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then just feed one.” How does this quote shape the way you think about being a good neighbor?

Loving Christ, there are days when I look at the news and am overwhelmed by the amount of need in the world. How can I be a good neighbor in a world as messy as ours? Where do I even begin? Remind me that you fed the masses with a few loaves and a couple of fish. Remind me that I do not do this work alone. Remind me to start with one, and to trust that you are by my side. Amen.

When I love my neighbor, I love God.

Mr. Rogers once said, “Everyone longs to be loved. And the greatest thing we can do is to let people know that they are loved and capable of loving.” Do these words help you think about how to show love?

Holy One, we humans are more similar than we are different. We long to be loved. We long to be seen. We long to be heard. We long to matter to someone. If I can help someone feel loved and like they matter, then I want to do just that. Open up room in my heart to give the same love that I long for. Open up room in my heart to offer the love that my neighbors deserve. Amen.

When I love my neighbor, I love God.

What kind of neighbor would you like to be? What acts of compassion would you like to be known for? Take a moment to reflect on these things.

Holy God, when I get to the end of my days, I pray that people will say that I was a good neighbor. More than a résumé or worldly accomplishments, I want to be known as someone who acts with compassion. I want to leave a legacy of love. Keep this desire at the forefront of my mind. Teach me how to love like you. Amen.

Together, we can make a difference.

What change feels impossible to bring about? Name what feels impossible and offer it all to God.

Creating God, can I help change the climate crisis? Can I prevent my body from failing me? Can I do something for the people of Gaza and Sudan? Can I forgive the one who hurt me? Can I do the impossible? Sit with me in the weight of these challenges. Show me how to dream new dreams. With hope I pray, amen.

Together, we can make a difference.

Jesus charged the disciples to feed the crowds. What is Jesus charging you to do in this season of life?

Jesus of Nazareth, you could have fed the crowds that day, but instead you had your disciples break bread and pass baskets. You had the disciples feed the crowds before you. In this season of life, what are you charging me to do? In this season of life, how would you like me to grow, to serve, to connect, to partner with others? Amen.

Together, we can make a difference.

What is a dream you have for yourself, your church, or the world?

Out-of-the-box God, I dream of a vibrant church full of intergenerational joy. I dream of a country without hunger and a world without war. I dream of a neighborhood where we know each other’s names, and a city where we eradicate poverty. I have dreams stacked upon dreams and can’t help but wonder—what if they aren’t impossible? Show me the work that is mine to do. Amen.

Together, we can make a difference.

Who in your life helps you believe that you can make a difference?

Calling God, you have placed people in my life who inspire me to be a better Chrisitian, a better neighbor, a better version of myself. Those people are like beacons of light in the night, calling me forward and calling me home. Show me how to adopt the courage, the conviction, and the compassion that these saints model for me. And if possible, show me how to be a light for someone else. Amen.

Together, we can make a difference.

The gospel is full of stories of surprising good. What does this teach us about God?

Jesus of Nazareth, time and time again you did the unexpected. You ate with outcasts. You healed on the Sabbath. You flipped tables in the Temple. You welcomed the children. Time and time again, you reinterpreted the law and bent the rules, all in the name of love. What surprising good are you up to today? I don’t want to miss it! Amen.

Together, we can make a difference.

Where do you see signs, even small ones, that the impossible might already be shifting? How is God at work around you in ways that give you hope?

Holy Spirit, open my eyes to the quiet ways your kin-dom is already breaking in. So often I look for big signs when the truth is that you move through small mercies, everyday kindness, and ordinary acts of courage. Help me notice the places where healing is budding and justice is taking root. Let these glimpses of your movement steady my hope and soften my heart. And as I see the work you are already doing, draw me into it with humility and trust. Amen.

Together, we can make a difference.

What strength, gift, or resource can you contribute to the work God is already doing—and how might it join with the strengths of others?

Collaborating Christ, you never meant for us to do this work alone. From the very beginning, you gathered people and showed us that transformation is born in community. So today I offer what I have: my gifts and my questions, my courage and my care. Take these small pieces and weave them into the good you are already doing in the world. Remind me that my offering matters and that its impact grows when joined with the offerings of others. Amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose love.

When in your life have you felt cared for? How did that care impact you?

Nurturing God, the world may be a harsh place, but I have known love. I have been on the receiving end of a prayer, a casserole, or a “thinking of you” text. I have been given a hand to hold, an encouraging word, an “I see you” head nod. The world may be a harsh place, but I have known love and care. So on long, hard days, help me be sustained by these acts of loving care. On long, hard days, may this love be a balm to my spirit. Amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose love.

Who in your community needs protection and care? How is your community responding?

Protecting God, there are so many in my community that need protection and care. I worry for children that are hungry, for the elderly that need assistance, for those whose native tongue is not the primary language. I worry for those living paycheck to paycheck, and for those who just moved to town. Give me the eyes to see the need in my own community, and the energy to join the response. Amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose love.

Is there a difference between offering protection and offering care? What is the value of both?

Nurturing God, when your children need protection, turn me into a mother bear. Turn me into the bravest and strongest version of myself. Turn me into courage and conviction on behalf of my neighbor. But when your children need care, God, turn me into something gentle. Turn me into a kind word, a safe place to land, a warm hand to hold. Use me as you need. Move through me as you can. Make me strong, and make me gentle. Amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose love.

Scripture calls us to care for the widow, the orphan, the immigrant, and the child among us. In our current time, who would you add to that list?

Holy God, you ask us to care for the orphan, the widow, the immigrant, and the child. To that list, would you add the sick? The grieving? The single parent? The neurodivergent child? The addict? The individual going through a transition? Would you add me? Remind me that your call to care is expansive. Remind me that your call to care knows no end. So help me pay attention to who is on your all-inclusive list, and to love them like you would. Amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose love.

Acts of care and protection can often require different emotions and energy levels from us. Between the two, what comes easier to you—care or protection? How can you use that skill for good?

Both/And God, some of us find energy at the protest, in the crowd, lobbying for change. Some of us find energy in prophetic spaces, challenging voices of power. Others of us find energy in the quiet of the hospital ward, by the bedside, in the nursing home, or in baby snuggles. Help me pay attention to what kind of love comes easily for me and show me how to act on that inclination wherever and however I can. As the saints before me said, “I am here. Send me.” Amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose love.

When you think about protecting the vulnerable, what actions come to mind? How can you live into this call faithfully?

Radically loving God, it would be easy for the call to protect and care for the vulnerable to exist as a hypothetical in my life, but that is not what I want. Instead, I want the call to care for the vulnerable to be bone-deep. I want to embody this call in my life. I want to roll up my sleeves and follow where you lead. So help me notice and act on ways to live out my faith in earnest. Amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose love.

What boundaries or practices help you care for others with compassion while also honoring your own limits? How might tending to your wellbeing strengthen your ability to love like Jesus?

Compassionate Christ, you cared for the vulnerable with steady, sincere love, and yet you still sought quiet places to pray and renew your spirit. Teach me that care cannot come from depletion but from being rooted in you. Help me honor my limits with honesty and rest without shame. And when I rise again to serve, let my actions flow from a restored heart and a grounded spirit. Let the care I offer always flow from your love at work in me. Amen.

I am rooted in what matters most.

Jesus tells the Pharisees that the most important part of the law is not simply following the rules, but enacting justice, mercy, and faithfulness (Matthew 23:23). What does this interpretation teach you about our faith?

Reforming God, I can get fixated on following the rules. I can get fixated on purity. But instead of emphasizing retribution, you emphasize mercy. Instead of emphasizing religious perfection, you emphasize justice. Instead of emphasizing rigidity, you emphasize faithfulness. Help me to hear the truth in this message. Help me release the pressure to be perfect, and to trust that faithful effort in the direction of mercy, justice, and love is the call you place on my life. In all things, I hope to move closer to you. Amen.

I am rooted in what matters most.

Have you ever been on the receiving end of someone’s mercy? How did it impact you? How can you pay that forward?

Merciful God, I can think of times when someone extended grace to me—when I was met with understanding instead of judgment, compassion instead of criticism. That mercy stayed with me. It softened something in me. It taught me about your heart. As I move through this week, let that memory shape the way I treat others. Make me quick to offer mercy, generous in compassion, and willing to extend the same grace I have received. Amen.

I am rooted in what matters most.

What rhythms and rituals help you cultivate a life of faithfulness?

Faithful God, you meet me in the small and steady rhythms of my days. You meet me in quiet moments, in simple prayers, and in the choices I make again and again. Teach me to notice the rituals that root me in your love. Help me lean into practices that make my heart softer, my spirit steadier, and my life more aligned with you. Shape my days so that faithfulness becomes the quiet pattern of my life. Amen.

I am rooted in what matters most.

We often think of justice on a macro scale. Are there ways to practice justice through small, daily acts? What comes to mind?

God of justice, you care about the small choices I make each day. You care about how I speak, how I listen, how I treat the people right in front of me. Show me where I can choose what is right and just in the ordinary moments of my life. Help me act with honesty, kindness, and courage, trusting that these simple choices matter. Let my daily living reflect the justice you desire. Amen.

I am rooted in what matters most.

When you think about justice, mercy, and faithfulness, which one feels hardest for you to live out? Why might that be?

Gracious God, you know the places where my heart resists your way. Sometimes mercy feels costly, justice feels overwhelming, and faithfulness feels like slow work. Meet me gently in those places. Help me name the fears and habits that hold me back, and teach me to grow with patience instead of shame. Show me how to take one small step toward the life you’re calling me to live. Amen.

I am rooted in what matters most.

What does it mean to you that Jesus protected someone others were ready to condemn? (John 8:2-11) How might that shape the way you live today?

Jesus, you stood beside a woman when everyone else stepped back. You quieted the voices of accusation and made room for her to breathe again. Let that story transform me. When I am tempted to judge too quickly or overlook someone’s dignity, slow me down. And when I am the one who feels surrounded by shame or accusation, remind me that you stand beside me too. Teach me to choose mercy even when it costs me something. Amen.

I am rooted in what matters most.

What area of your life feels complicated right now? Could justice, faithfulness, or mercy help you find your way forward?

Holy God, you walk with me in the places where life feels uncertain. When my thoughts are tangled or the path ahead feels unclear, steady my spirit. Anchor me in the things that matter most to you—justice that restores, mercy that softens, and faithfulness that keeps me near your heart. Lead me in your way, so that my choices bear witness to your love. Amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose mercy.

As Jesus processes into Jerusalem, the people cry “Hosanna!” which means “Save us!” Who is crying out to be saved now? How can you act with mercy?

Merciful God, whether I’m shouting in the streets or whispering from my bedside, I know you hear my cries of “Hosanna!” Help me to hear the cries of others, too. Give me ears to listen for the voices of those crying out to be saved from a world hell-bent on violence, oppression, domination, and destruction. Let me join my “Hosannas!” with theirs. Let me act mercifully, justly, and compassionately until the world comes back into harmony again. In hope I pray, amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose mercy.

Who inspires you to take action? What do they inspire you to do?

God of inspiration, when I look around, there are so many people modeling a better way. The leaders working to care for their people, even when it’s less profitable. The children speaking out in halls of power to advocate for a brighter future. The everyday people bringing truckloads of donations after a disaster. God, let me be part of this crowd. Let their light ignite my own actions so I might be a light for others, too. With conviction I pray, amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose mercy.

When is it easy to follow Jesus? When is it hard?

Jesus of Nazareth, your disciples followed you into Jerusalem, to the Temple, to the Upper Room, and to the garden. But they didn’t all follow you to the cross. When the journey gets difficult this week, when I’m tempted to turn away, give me the strength to keep going. Let me follow you all the way, even when it’s hard. Amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose mercy.

Jesus invites all his disciples to his final meal, even those who will sell him out. How can you extend hospitality even to people you find hard to love or trust?

Hospitable Christ, you didn’t have to invite Judas or Peter. I don’t think I would have made the same choice. But you invited all your disciples, no matter how much or little they deserved it. So I have to believe that’s what you want for us too. Show me the way of mercy and unconditional hospitality. I want to be part of a love like that. Amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose mercy.

What is your biggest regret? Have you forgiven yourself?

Merciful Jesus, you invited Judas to the table. You washed his feet knowing what he would do. You decided that even Judas is deserving of love and forgiveness. In our “cancel culture” world that defines each person by their worst moment, that kind of love feels radical. But your Word tells us that nothing can separate us from your love. Give me a merciful heart like that. Let me see myself as you must see me: a beloved child of God, worthy of bearing your name. Humbly I pray, amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose mercy.

When you feel threatened, how do you respond? Are you more likely to retreat or fight back?

Prince of Peace, the journey to the cross is difficult to follow. How much harder it must have been for you to walk it. There, in the eye of the storm, you stood firm—not running from your fate, not fighting back, not even blaming those who betrayed and abandoned you. I want that kind of strength to remain firm in my convictions without ever resorting to violence. Give me the courage to embody peace in a violent world. Amen.

Like Jesus, I will choose mercy.

Jesus offers his crucifiers forgiveness, even as he is dying on the cross. Who feels hardest to forgive? What would forgiveness look like?

Holy God, in this world, it feels like forgiveness is synonymous with excusing bad behavior. In this world, mercy is seen as weakness. But you managed to forgive Judas, Peter, even total strangers who nailed you to a cross. Show me the ways of your mercy. Show me how to call in rather than call out. Show me how to be more like you. Amen.

New life is all around.

Where is the good news alive in the world?

Good-news God, in the face of violence, you chose peaceful resistance. On the cross, you joined all those who know suffering. After death, you defied the grave. Today I have good news to sing: love wins! You are with us! Death is not the end! Your goodness is alive in the world! Today, I will celebrate this good, good news. Amen.

New life is all around.

Where have you seen God or felt the Spirit’s presence in recent weeks?

God, I know you’re here. Like glitter tossed into the wind, I catch a glimpse of you anywhere I look. Every person I pass on my daily commute bears your image. Every breath I take, I breathe you into my lungs. You are as near as my heartbeat and as vast as the cosmos. What a marvelous mystery. Don’t let me miss it. In awe and gratitude I pray, amen.

New life is all around.

What feels full of life, hope, and vibrancy in your faith community or personal life?

Living God, there is so much to be grateful for. Even in the midst of death, new life emerges. Thank you for the flowers that push up through the snow. Thank you for the sun that rises each morning. Thank you for young people who bring energy to tired places. Thank you for hope on the horizon. Thank you for birdsong and new friends and the old, old story of your endless love. Thank you for all the things that help me feel full to the brim with life. Amen.

New life is all around.

When hope seems lost, where do you look for God’s presence?

Holy God, I know Mary’s pain. I, too, have shown up to the tomb, weary and disheartened, believing that death has won. I, too, have tucked away my optimism and prepared my heart for the worst. In those bleak moments, God, startle me with your presence. Send angels in my midst to point me back to you, the Risen One. Humbly I pray, amen.

New life is all around.

Jesus invites his followers to look for him in Galilee. Where do you feel Christ calling you forward in this season?

Risen Christ, the Easter story is a reminder that nothing could contain you—no tomb, no body, no violent act. You are alive in the world, unfettered and beckoning us to follow. Lead me to the places you have called me to be. Show me where you’re headed. I want to be there, too. Amen.