In The Message, Philippians 4 reads like this:

"Don't fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God's wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It's wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life."

I love that word — displaces. Worry doesn't just quietly step aside. It has to be replaced by something. And Paul's answer is prayer. Not prayer as a technique for getting what we want, but prayer as the practice of releasing what we're carrying.

I heard about a family that made an agreement among themselves. Whenever one of them had a worry or concern, they would write it down on an index card and drop it in a bag that hung on the back of a closet door. As they wrote it down, they would lift it up in prayer — turning the worry over to God as they let it go.

Their agreement went a step further: if they found themselves anxious again about something already in the bag, they had to go fish it out, pray over it again, and drop it back in. There was something wonderfully honest about that. Because we all know what it is to hand something over to God — and then quietly take it back.

I've heard of others who do something similar through journaling — letting their worries find their way onto the page, where they gradually become prayers. The practice matters less than the intention behind it. What Paul is pointing to is a posture of the heart: open hands instead of clenched fists. Trust instead of control.

Worry tells us that everything depends on us. Prayer reminds us that it doesn't.

Prayer: Almighty God, Giver of Life, we want to be healthy and whole — free from anxiety, worry, and stress. We want you to be at the very heart and center of our lives. Lift the burdens from our shoulders. Help us relinquish control and surrender again to you. We ask in Jesus' name. Amen.

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In the Gospel of Mark, chapter 10, when two of the disciples — James and John — asked Jesus for positions of power and prestige, he replied:

"You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them. But it is not so among you. Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life."

That is one of the most countercultural statements ever uttered. In every age — including our own — the instinct is to climb. To position. To be seen. Jesus turns the whole thing upside down.

Pastor and author F.B. Meyer captured it beautifully: "I used to think that God's gifts were on shelves one above the other, and that the taller we grew in Christian character, the easier we could reach them. I now find that God's gifts are on shelves one beneath the other. It is not a question of growing taller but of stooping lower — that we have to go down, before we can go up."

I've found that to be true. The moments in my own life when I have felt closest to God — most alive, most useful, most at peace — have rarely been moments of achievement or recognition. They have been moments of service. Showing up for someone who needed help. Giving something away. Choosing the lower place.

It goes against every instinct we have. But Jesus lived it all the way to the cross. And he invites us to follow him there — not because suffering is good, but because it is in the giving of ourselves that we feel most fully alive.

Prayer: Jesus our Redeemer, you gave your very life to show us the depths of your love. Forgive us for the times we have climbed when we should have stooped, and sought recognition when we should have served. Grant us the courage and the will to walk in your ways — to give deeply of ourselves. And as we do, may we discover the grace and blessing that wait for us there. Amen.

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Today’s message was written by my friend Rev. Charlie Landreth

A young couple became concerned about their young son who always took his teddy bear to bed with him. As the boy got older they thought he should give this up. Finally, they asked him: "Why do you take the teddy bear to bed with you?" Without hesitation, he replied, "To have something to hold on to in the night." 

In the darkness of our lives, we want something to hold on to. 

What do you do when nothing seems to be turning out the way you had expected: What do you do when you gather up the bits and pieces of your life and spread them out before you and most of what you experience is pain and disappointment? Do you have anything to hold on to in the night?

In the 8th chapter of Romans, Paul affirms "Nothing can separate you from the love of God." A broken home or a broken life cannot separate you from the love of God. Your past failures and mistakes cannot separate you from the love of God. Old age, broken bodies, cancer, heart disease, depression none of these can separate you from the love of God. That is good news! That is something to hold on to in the night!

God's love will not let you go. It is constant. It is constant, not because of your faith, nor because of your strength, nor because of your gritty determination but because of the love, the faithfulness and the grace of God. That is something for you to hold on to in the night! 

Prayer: Loving God, visit those for whom this day may hold special challenges: those facing hard choices, those persevering in long struggles, those undergoing surgery or treatment. Grant comfort and courage to these and may they sense your loving and tender presence accompanying them in the difficult moments of this day. Amen.

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Today’s message was written by my friend Rev. Charlie Landreth

I share with you a familiar scripture verse about forgiveness:

Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times. 

This means for me that forgiveness is not quantifiable, but a qualitatively different attitude and practice, drawn from the very being of God, whose nature it is to offer grace. 

"As far as the east is from the west, so far does God remove our transgressions from us”, says the psalmist. 

In the emotionally powerful novel by Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet In Heaven, The major character, Eddie, is talking to Ruby.

“I hated my father”, Eddie says; “He was hell on me as a kid and worse when I got older”.  

Ruby stepped toward him. “Edward”, she said softly. It was the first time she had called him by name. “Learn this from me. Holding anger is a poison...........it eats you from the inside. We think that hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harms us. But hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves. Forgive, Edward, Forgive”.

The fourth verse of John Calvin’s powerful hymn (I Greet Thee, Who My Sure Redeemer Art) has been running through my mind as a constant refrain this week. Let this be our closing prayer:

"Thou hast the true and perfect gentleness, no darkness hath thou, and no bitterness. O grant us the grace, the grace we find in thee, that we may dwell in perfect unity.” May this be our greater vision. Amen.

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Today’s message was written by my friend Rev. Charlie Landreth

You are probably familiar with the famous Delaney sisters, who, at the ages of 103 and 105 published their first book, entitled, Having Our Say. In the book, they reported on their daily routine. 

Here is what Sadie said:

“The first thing I do when I open my eyes is smile and then I say, Thank you Lord for another day …and then I go to Bessie’s room and try to wake her up. Sometimes I have to knock on her headboard. Finally, she will open her eyes, sometimes she will say, Oh, Lord another day?”

Near the end of Having Our Say, the interviewer asks: “Do you ever think about death?” Sadie answers:

“You know, when you are this old, you don’t know if you are going to wake up in the morning or not. But I don’t worry about dying, and neither does Bessie. We are at peace. You do kind of wonder when it’s going to happen. That’s why you learn to love each day, child.”

Paul says to the Corinthian Christians, “So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure…….” (2 Corinthians 4: 16-17)

There are ways to get it right, this business of living a human life fully and coming to its end in a state of grace. I believe that this God-given grace is the capacity to love and be happy; to think and to create; to serve and to care; to hope and to handle whatever needs to be handled. 

May God bless you in this endeavor.

Let us pray: You alone are my hope, loving God. Now that I am old and gray, God, do not desert me. Be present with me and share your love and strength with me this day. Amen.

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