The Prayer Porch

Tag: bible

  • Understanding Grace: A Biblical Perspective on Rejoicing

    Understanding Grace: A Biblical Perspective on Rejoicing

    Grace is not a small or quiet thing in Scripture. In Romans 5, Paul tells us that grace does more than save us – it reorients what we rejoice in.

    Because of Christ, we are no longer enemies brought near by our own effort. “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Grace is God’s initiative, not our achievement. And because of that, our rejoicing is not rooted in self-confidence, but in His work alone.

    Paul uses a word that feels almost startling: to boast.

    The Greek word kauchēma (kow-khay-mah) means to glory in, to rejoice over, to take pride in. It’s not the loud, self-centered boasting we often think of but a settled confidence that rests in something sure. Grace gives us something holy to boast in: what Christ has done, not what we have accomplished.

    This kind of rejoicing doesn’t ignore suffering or sin. It looks directly at them and still stands firm.

    James echoes this posture when he writes, “Consider it pure joy whenever you face trials of many kinds” (James 1:2). That word joy comes from chara (khar-ah), meaning deep gladness, great joyfulness. It’s not a denial of pain, but a trust that God is present and working within it.

    James also warns of a divided heart – a double-mindedness that keeps us unstable (James 1:8). Grace invites us into wholeness. It calls us to live with one steady gaze: not fixed on the chaos of the world, but on the faithfulness of God.

    And yes – we live in a world saturated with sin, confusion, and noise. But grace is not weakened by darkness. Paul reminds us that where sin increased, grace increased all the more. Grace does not excuse sin – it overcomes it.

    For the believer today, living in grace looks like this:

    • Rejoicing without pretending life is easy
    • Boasting only in the Lord’s mercy, not our own strength
    • Choosing joy that is rooted, not reactive
    • Remaining tender-hearted without becoming double-minded

    Grace teaches us how to stand – humble, confident, and deeply anchored in a broken world.

    This is the quiet beauty of grace: it doesn’t make us loud; it makes us secure.

    Lord,
    Thank You for grace that met us when we were far off
    and continues to meet us each day where we are.
    Teach us to rejoice not in ourselves,
    but in Your mercy, Your faithfulness, and Your finished work.

    In a world filled with noise, temptation, and division,
    anchor our hearts in truth.
    Help us live with steady joy – not shallow happiness,
    but the deep joy that comes from trusting You.

    May our lives quietly boast in what You have done,
    and may grace shape how we walk, speak, and love.
    We rest in You today.
    Amen.

  • Walking with Jesus: Faith Grows Through Curiosity

    Walking with Jesus: Faith Grows Through Curiosity

    Curiosity is often where faith begins. Not with certainty. Not with all the answers. But with a quiet wondering. Who is Jesus, really? If you find yourself asking that question, even softly, you are not alone. Luke shows us that many who encountered Jesus were unsure, searching, and still learning what it meant to follow Him.

    In Luke 9, Jesus sends out His disciples with almost nothing. No extra supplies. No safety net. It’s an unsettling way to begin, especially for those of us who crave clarity before commitment. Yet Luke the Evangelist reveals something important: trust is not formed before the journey – it is formed while walking it. For those who are curious about Jesus but hesitant to fully believe, this can be reassuring. Faith is not a prerequisite for the journey; it often grows along the way.

    Later, a large crowd gathers, hungry and uncertain. The disciples see scarcity – too many people, too little food. But Jesus sees possibility. With a small offering placed in His hands, abundance follows. This moment speaks gently to those who feel they don’t have enough to offer – enough belief, enough understanding, enough goodness. Luke reminds us that Jesus does not ask for perfection. He asks for honesty. What feels insufficient in our hands can become more than enough when surrendered.

    Then Jesus asks a question that lingers: “Who do you say I am?”

    This is not a test. It is an invitation. Some answer with confidence. Others with confusion. Some are not ready to answer at all. And still, Jesus continues walking with them. Grace is present long before certainty ever arrives.

    When Jesus speaks about taking up the cross and following Him, His words can feel heavy – especially to those who have been hurt by rigid or fear-based faith. But in Luke, this call is not about losing ourselves; it is about discovering a truer way to live. Jesus invites us out of self-protection and into trust, out of control and into relationship. He never forces belief. He invites participation.

    What stands out most in Luke is Jesus’ posture. He feeds the hungry. He welcomes questions. He walks patiently with imperfect people. He does not demand immediate understanding or flawless faith. He offers presence.

    If you are curious about Jesus, you do not need to rush toward conclusions. You can linger. You can question. You can observe. You can simply stay near the story and notice what stirs in your heart. Many of those closest to Jesus began exactly there- watching, listening, wondering.

    Faith rarely begins with certainty. More often, it begins with a quiet maybe.

    And Luke reminds us that even this is enough to begin.

    If you are curious about Jesus, you are not outside the story. You are standing at the doorway of an invitation – one marked by patience, compassion, and grace. And Jesus is not asking you to have it all figured out. He is simply inviting you to walk with Him, one gentle step at a time.

    At the heart of all that happens in Luke, we are left with a quiet invitation that meets us in the everyday.

    “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.’”
    Luke 9:23

    With love, from the porch,
    Laura

  • God’s Promise: Life from the Valley of Dry Bones

    God’s Promise: Life from the Valley of Dry Bones

    There’s a moment in the book of Ezekiel that feels as honest as any human experience: the valley of dry bones. God leads Ezekiel into a place filled with what once had been alive – scattered remains, brittle and silent. Then God asks him, “Son of man, can these bones live?”

    Ezekiel answers the only way he can: “Lord, You alone know.”
    It’s a whisper of faith from someone staring at something that looks completely hopeless.

    We all have seasons like that.
    Times when our hearts feel tired and our purpose feels distant.
    Our prayers feel like they echo in an empty valley.

    There are days we wake up and feel hollowed out by stress, disappointment, grief, or sheer exhaustion. Moments where we feel spiritually thin – like the “us” we used to be has slipped away.

    And just like those dry bones, we wonder if anything can live again.

    But God speaks into that emptiness. He tells Ezekiel to prophesy to the bones, to call them to hear the word of the Lord. And as Ezekiel speaks, something miraculous happens:

    Bone begins to find bone.
    Sinews and flesh form.
    And finally, God breathes His Spirit – the holy breath – into them.
    And where death once lay, a living army rises.

    This story is more than an ancient vision; it’s a promise.

    🌬️ God still breathes life into the dry places.

    Into the places we’ve abandoned.
    Into the wounds we’ve tried to hide.
    Into the dreams we let go of because we were too tired to keep hoping.

    What does this look like in daily life?

    Sometimes it’s the moment you feel a spark of purpose after weeks of numbness.
    Sometimes it’s a gentle conviction “Call that person – try again – pray one more time.”
    Sometimes it’s the strength to get out of bed with a fresh sense of “maybe today.”
    Sometimes it’s tears that finally fall, clearing the ground for healing.
    Sometimes it’s a reminder that God isn’t finished with your story.

    Life returning doesn’t always come as a thunderclap.
    Most of the time, it comes as a quiet stirring.
    A small breath.
    A whisper that says, “I am with you.”

    As the world around us settles into rest, maybe we can sit on the porch with this gentle truth:

    God never leaves us in the valley.
    He meets us there.
    He speaks to the bones.
    And He breathes new life into what we thought was over.

    Lord, breathe life into the dry places within me.
    Restore what has grown weary.
    Reconnect what has been scattered.
    Revive what feels lost or forgotten.
    Help me trust that no valley is too empty for Your Spirit to fill.
    May Your breath bring strength, hope, and a fresh beginning today.
    Amen.

  • Finding Stillness: Inner Peace on My Back Porch

    Finding Stillness: Inner Peace on My Back Porch

    On my little back porch – The quiet moments come before the world fully wakes. The sunlight spilling gently across the floorboards. The leaves rustling, whispering their morning prayer. This porch has become a sacred space – a threshold between the outer world and the inner one.

    As I settle into that quiet space, I find myself drawn to the life and wisdom of St. Teresa of Ávila, a 16th-century nun, mystic, and reformer whose words still stir hearts centuries later. Teresa’s writings invite us to explore prayer. They also encourage us to delve into the deep interior life. It is that tender meeting place where our soul communes with God.

    In her masterpiece, The Interior Castle, St. Teresa describes the soul as a grand castle made of crystal. It is full of rooms that lead ever inward toward the center. This is the place where God dwells.

    She wrote that many people live only in the outer courtyards, busy and distracted, unaware of the beauty within. The spiritual journey, she said, involves moving deeper into those inner rooms. This is achieved through prayer, humility, and love. These practices help us rest in God’s presence at the very heart of our being.

    That image feels so close to what I experience on the porch. When I quiet my mind and let the noise settle, I can feel myself moving inward. I transition from thought, to breath, to stillness. This brings me closer to the One who loves me completely.

    St. Teresa also compared prayer to watering a garden. At first, she said, it takes effort – drawing water by hand, tending each plant carefully. But over time, as we grow in trust, the garden begins to water itself through rain – grace freely given.

    In her words:

    “The soul is like a garden, and the Lord delights to walk among its flowers.”

    Maybe our porch time is like that early watering. These are quiet moments when we show up weary or hopeful. We trust that something beautiful is being tended in us, even when we can’t yet see it blooming.

    🪷 How to Pray Like Teresa

    Here are a few simple ways to bring her spirit to your own porch:

    1. Begin with Stillness
    Sit quietly. Notice your breath. Let the outer rooms of your mind settle. You don’t need to do anything – just be present.

    2. Offer Humble Prayer
    Teresa reminds us that humility is the doorway to God’s love. Speak simply, as if to a dear friend. Tell Him your joys, your weariness, your longing.

    3. Rest in Silence
    After speaking, stay a moment longer. Don’t rush away. This is the heart of prayer – the space where words end and presence begins.

    Perhaps the porch – that small, humble space between inside and out – is a reflection of Teresa’s inner castle. It’s where heaven meets earth, where our busyness softens into prayer.

    Today, you don’t have to find perfection in your spiritual life. Just step into the next “room.” Move a little deeper into your own heart. Trust that God is already waiting there.

    Lord,
    Teach me to enter the quiet places of my heart.
    Help me to water the garden of my soul with gentle trust.
    May I meet You there in stillness and simplicity. Let me learn to rest in Your love. Teresa did this, faithful and free.
    Amen.

    Which “room” of your inner life are you being invited into today — stillness, trust, surrender, or joy?

  • Finding Peace in Uncertain Times

    Finding Peace in Uncertain Times

    It’s no secret that life in America feels unsettled right now. The news is heavy, conversations can quickly become divided, and many of us carry quiet worries about the future. It’s hard not to feel the tension.

    Even in seasons like this, there are places of steadiness we can return to. These include kindness, listening, and the simple act of being present with one another. These aren’t small things. They are bridges that help us move beyond the noise and back toward our shared humanity.

    Scripture reminds us of peace for those who walk in faith. It says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you” (John 14:27). For all of us, peace can become a practice. No matter our background, we can choose calm when everything around us feels uncertain.

    The world around us can feel shaky. Slowing down is important. Choosing how we respond can be a quiet act of courage. A kind word, a pause before reacting, or even taking time away from screens to rest – these choices matter. They remind us that while we can’t control everything, we can nurture peace within ourselves and offer it to others.

    A Porch Reflection ✨

    When was the last time you felt truly steady – even for just a moment? What helped you feel that way, and how might you return to it this week?

    End your day by naming one way you showed kindness, however small.

    Take a break from headlines today. Step outside, notice the air, the light, the quiet.

    Before a conversation that might feel tense, pause and remind yourself: “This person has fears and hopes, just like me.”

    Some families and communities find it helpful to have a prayer bowl on the coffee table. They place it in a room where they gather to pray. Whenever someone asks for prayer, they write the request on a little piece of paper. They put the paper in the bowl. When it’s time for morning or evening prayer, each person can take a few slips of paper from the bowl. They read the requests. This is also a good way to remember people we don’t see every day. We can think of children in war zones. We should also consider victims of human trafficking.

    We may not solve every challenge in our nation overnight. Together, we can create circles of peace. And when those circles overlap – porch by porch, heart by heart – something steadier begins to grow.



  • Finding Joy in Your Spiritual Gifts: A Reflection on Mary and Martha

    Finding Joy in Your Spiritual Gifts: A Reflection on Mary and Martha

    Sometimes I smile when I read the story of Mary and Martha. Two sisters, both devoted to Jesus, but so very different in how they expressed their love for Him. Martha bustled around, working hard to prepare and serve. Mary sat at Jesus’ feet, soaking in His words.

    It’s easy to think one was “right” and one was “wrong.” But maybe the deeper lesson is that each of us has a different way of living out our devotion. Martha’s gift was service, hospitality, and care. Mary’s gift was presence, listening, and worship. Both loved Jesus, just in different ways.

    Not all of us are called to the same work, and that’s the beauty of it. Some of us love to bake bread or cook meals that nourish others. Some feel alive when teaching, guiding, or leading conversations. Others find joy in being the one who notices. They pray quietly and encourage with a text at just the right moment.

    Our culture often pressures us to compare – to think the loudest gift is the most important. But God delights in the quiet as much as the visible. The small prayer, the gentle kindness, the faithful service no one sees. All of it reflects His heart.

    A Gentle Reminder

    You don’t have to copy Mary or Martha. You simply have to be faithful with the gifts God has placed in you.

    • If you love to serve: your kitchen table can be an altar.
    • If you love to listen and pray: your quiet corner can be holy ground.
    • If you love to lead: your voice can guide others toward Christ.
    • If you love to create: your art, music, or craft can become worship.
    • If you love to encourage: your words can be a lifeline to weary hearts.

    Each of us brings something unique, and each gift is precious in His sight.

    Lord, thank You for the reminder that our gifts don’t need to look like anyone else. Teach us to celebrate the gifts You’ve given us, and to honor the gifts that we see in others. May we, like Mary and Martha, welcome You into our homes and hearts in the ways You’ve made us. Amen.

    🌿 As I sit on the porch today, I picture Mary quietly listening. I see Martha bustling with care. I realize the Church needs both. And it needs you too with the gifts God has entrusted to you, however ordinary they seem.

  • Lessons from John the Baptist: Living with Purpose

    Lessons from John the Baptist: Living with Purpose

    John the Baptist was not polished, popular, or powerful by the world’s standards. He lived simply in the wilderness, wore rough clothing, and preached a message many did not want to hear.
    Yet Jesus said of him, “Among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist” (Matthew 11:11).

    So what can we, as modern disciples, learn from John?
    How can we imitate his way of life while living in our everyday world?

    Point to Jesus, Not Ourselves

    When crowds gathered around John, he reminded them, “I am not the Messiah.” His mission was always to point people toward Christ. We imitate him when we live in a way that gives God the glory. Our words can reflect this. Our choices and even our struggles can too.
    When someone praises you for your kindness, work, or strength, you can simply say, “I’m grateful.” You can explain that God has helped you through so much. It doesn’t mean preaching a sermon, but gently shifting the focus to Christ.

    Live Simply

    John lived with little. His simplicity freed him to focus on God’s call. We don’t have to wear camel’s hair. We can choose contentment and avoid excess. Remember that our true security isn’t found in possessions but in Christ.
    Practice contentment by simplifying your home or schedule. Maybe it’s choosing not to buy every new gadget, or carving out quiet evenings without screens. Simplicity frees your heart to notice God.

    Speak Truth with Courage

    John boldly preached repentance, even when it cost him. In our own lives, we can speak the truth in love. We can do this by standing for integrity at work. It also means being honest in relationships or gently offering God’s wisdom when others need it.
    At work, this might look like choosing honesty over going along with gossip. In family life, it could mean lovingly setting boundaries, even if it’s hard. Speaking truth doesn’t have to be loud – it can be quiet faithfulness.

    Prepare the Way for Christ

    John’s mission was to prepare people to meet Jesus. We can achieve this by making space for Christ in our own lives through prayer. Forgiveness and surrender are also ways we can do this. We should encourage others to seek Him, too.
    Make a difference in your circle by praying for friends. Be quick to forgive. Offer encouragement to someone who’s searching. Small acts of kindness can open the door for others to experience Christ.

    Practice Humility

    John said, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30). His humility is a reminder that we’re not the Savior. Our role is simply to point to Him. Celebrate other’s success without comparison. Share credit freely at work. In your heart, keep asking, “Does this lift me up, or lift up Jesus?” That simple prayer keeps us grounded in humility.

    A Reflection for Us

    To imitate John the Baptist is not to retreat to the wilderness. It means living with the same spirit of humility, courage, and devotion in the midst of our daily lives. It means pointing people to Jesus, even in quiet ways. It means living simply and speaking truthfully. It means remembering that our lives are not about us – they are about Christ.

    Lord, help me to live with the boldness and humility of John the Baptist. Teach me to point others to You. Help me to live simply. Prepare the way for Christ in my heart and in my community. May my life be a lantern that shines toward Jesus, and not myself. Amen.

  • Finding Light in Darkness: The Power of Gratitude

    Finding Light in Darkness: The Power of Gratitude

    From the outside, life can look picture-perfect. Smiles for the camera. A clean, orderly home. The perfect pictures on social media. Work always done on time.The likes and followers suggest everything is going just right.

    But underneath, many of us carry quiet struggles. These are worries that never make it into a post. They are heartbreaks that can’t be captured in a story. Darkness often lingers in the unseen places of our lives. We have worries that don’t show up in the photos. We endure heartbreaks that can’t be seen in a passing conversation. Darkness often lingers in the unseen places of our lives.

    And yet, it is often in those hidden shadows that God meets us most tenderly.

    “Even the darkness will not be dark to You;
    the night will shine like the day,
    for darkness is as light to You.”
    — Psalm 139:12

    Joyce Meyer, a well-known Bible teacher and author, has shared openly about her painful past. She experienced abuse, brokenness, and years of inner turmoil. Even after becoming a Christian, she struggled with anger, shame, and fear. Yet through it all, she has often spoken about the practice of gratitude. She chooses to thank God in the middle of the mess. She discovered that gratitude changes perspective: it doesn’t always erase the darkness, but it reminds us of the Light.

    Mother Teresa was remembered for her radiant smile and tireless love for the poor. She carried an unseen heaviness of spirit for many years. Even when she felt distant from God, she continued her daily rhythms of prayer and service. Gratitude, for her, was often found in the smallest things. It was food for the hungry and the touch of a hand. It was the chance to serve “Jesus in disguise” in the poor.

    Their lives remind us that struggle does not mean failure. It is part of being human. And gratitude, even in darkness, can open our eyes to God’s nearness.

    Maybe your life looks fine on the outside. On the inside, you’re carrying questions, grief, or a weight that feels too heavy to name. You’re not alone. God does not turn away from the darkness within us; He enters it. He walks with us there.

    And sometimes, the simple act of giving thanks in the dark becomes a lantern of hope. Living gratitude looks different for everyone. A few ideas might look like:

    • Gratitude journaling: Write down 3 small things each day you’re thankful for. These can be simple pleasures like a warm cup of coffee. It could be the sound of rain or a text from a friend.
    • Breath prayers of thanks: Whisper “Thank You, Lord” as you breathe in and out, naming one gift in the moment.
    • Porch pause: Step outside, notice one piece of creation around you, and thank God for it.

    These small acts of gratitude don’t deny the darkness – they invite God’s light into it.

    Lord, You see the struggles I hide. You know the shadows I carry. Teach me to give thanks even here, in the middle of the night. Let gratitude become a lantern to guide me, until I see the fullness of Your light. Amen.

    As evening settles, the last light fades. I sit on the porch and watch as the stars start to glow. They were there all along, unseen in the brightness of day. Gratitude feels like that, too – reminding us of blessings we couldn’t see until the darkness fell. And perhaps that’s how it is with God. His light is never gone. It simply shines differently in our darkest hours. 🌙✨

  • Trusting Jesus for True Security

    Trusting Jesus for True Security

    When I look around at our world today, I see so much fear, division, and mistrust. For many, guns feel like security, like the only way to be safe in a world gone mad. But when I sit quietly with Jesus, I am reminded that He offers us a very different picture of peace.

    The prophet Isaiah spoke these words long ago:

    “He shall judge between the nations. He shall decide disputes for many peoples. They shall beat their swords into plowshares. Their spears shall become pruning hooks. Nation shall not lift up sword against nation. They shall not learn war anymore.”
    — Isaiah 2:4

    It’s a vision of a world no longer shaped by violence, but transformed by the presence of God. Tools of destruction are remade into tools for growth and life.

    I know the conversation about guns is complicated. People carry deep convictions, and I don’t pretend to have all the answers. But I believe Jesus calls us not into fear, but into faith. Not into grasping for control, but into trusting His protection. Not into arming ourselves for battle, but into laying down our weapons and lifting up our prayers.

    On the porch today, I imagine what our world would look like. What if we trusted Jesus enough to live into Isaiah’s vision? What if we spent less time stockpiling for safety, and more time sowing seeds of peace? What if our courage did not come from what we carry in our hands? Instead, what if it came from Who we carry in our hearts?

    Jesus told us, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.” (Matthew 5:9). Peacemaking takes more bravery than violence ever will. It involves stepping out of the cycle of fear. We entrust ourselves to the One who conquered death not with a sword, but with a cross.

    Lord Jesus, You are the Prince of Peace. Teach us how to lay down our weapons. These weapons can be of any kind. Help us live as people of faith, not fear. Give us courage to be peacemakers in our homes, our communities, and our world. May Your kingdom come, where swords become plowshares and guns are no longer needed. Amen.

  • Hope Amid Chaos: Lessons from Corrie Ten Boom

    Hope Amid Chaos: Lessons from Corrie Ten Boom

    The world feels heavy these days. The headlines are noisy. Politics are divisive. It can be hard to find hope when fear and anger seem to dominate the landscape. But history reminds us that God’s Spirit has never stopped producing fruit even in the most barren times.

    One woman who lived this truth was Corrie Ten Boom. During World War II, she and her family hid Jews in their Dutch home. They risked everything out of obedience to Christ. When discovered, Corrie and her sister Betsie were sent to Ravensbrück concentration camp, a place of unimaginable cruelty. Yet even there, the light of the Holy Spirit shone through Corrie’s life.

    “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”
    – Galatians 5:22–23

    • Love: She risked her life for strangers, showing Christ’s love in action.
    • Joy: She rejoiced over a smuggled Bible and sang hymns in secret, finding joy where none seemed possible.
    • Peace: In the face of terror, she clung to God’s promises and became a calm presence for others.
    • Patience: She endured long days of hunger and suffering with steadfast trust.
    • Kindness: She extended compassion to fellow prisoners, even when she had nothing to give.
    • Goodness: She chose what was right, even when it was costly.
    • Faithfulness: Her trust in Christ held firm through persecution.
    • Gentleness: She cared for the wounded and brokenhearted, reflecting Christ’s tenderness.
    • Self-control: After the war, she chose forgiveness over bitterness even toward her captors.

    In times like these, when division seems louder than unity, it’s easy to wonder if anything good can take root. Yet Corrie Ten Boom’s life reminds us that the Spirit’s fruit is not limited by the landscape. It often grows brightest in dark soil.

    Her life is proof that the Spirit’s work is stronger than the world’s brokenness. If fruit bloom in a concentration camp, it can bloom in today’s troubled times too.

    The call for us might not be to get swept up in the world’s chaos. Instead, it is to quietly and faithfully let the Spirit tend our hearts. To bear love where there is hate. Joy where there is despair. Peace where there is unrest.

    “Lord, help us to live as Corrie did, with courage, forgiveness, and hope. Cultivate the fruits of Your Spirit within us. In the chaos of today’s world, that others will taste and see that You are good.”

    As I write, the sky outside feels unsettled – clouds moving quickly, the air heavy with change. Maybe you’ve felt that way too, watching today’s world unfold. Here on the porch, a cup of tea warms my hands. The birds start their evening song. I am reminded that God still tends His garden. The Spirit is still at work.

    May we be like small trees planted by living water, steady and fruitful, no matter what storms rage around us. 🌿🍃