A Psalm of the Waiting Heart

 A Psalm of the Waiting Heart

O Lord,
I come not with hands full,
but with a heart emptied —
of striving, of answers, of self.

You see me —
the man I hide from others,
the weariness beneath my smile,
the trembling beneath my words.

I am broken,
not in pieces, but in truth —
a soul cracked open,
waiting not for blessing,
but for Your presence.

Your silence is not absence.
Your stillness is not neglect.
You are here —
and that is enough.

I remember, O God,
the days You carried me
when I had no strength to stand,
when breath was a prayer,
and tears were my only language.

I live only because You willed it.
I breathe only because mercy fills my lungs.

Do not turn Your face from me now.
Even when I deserve Your back,
turn instead Your gaze —
tender, ancient, kind.

Make me like the shadow under Your wings,
hidden, not forgotten.
Humbled, but not cast away.
Low… but loved.

Teach me again, O Father,
that grace is not earned,
and mercy is not delayed.

For I am Yours.
Forever Yours.
Even in silence.
Even in the waiting.
Even when all I can do
is fall… and stay fallen
at Your feet.

Amen.

Open Courts, Open Hearts

Devotional Title: “From Court to Kingdom: Embracing Open Fellowship”

Scripture Reading:

“Therefore go and make disciples of all nations...”
— Matthew 28:19 (NIV)

“And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.”
— Acts 2:47b (NIV)

What started as a simple pickleball group for a few friends from the Life Group soon turned into something more. The fellowship grew closer and it was friendly and warmth all over. Some members —enthusiastic not only about the game but about sharing life—began openly inviting others in the community, and even friends from other Life Groups. 

The court began to feel a little more crowded... and may be a little more uncomfortable for some.

 “Now it feels like something else.”

But what if “something else” is exactly what God wants?

The early church in Acts devoted themselves to teaching, prayer, breaking bread—and yes, fellowship. But their fellowship wasn’t closed. In fact, “the Lord added to their number daily” (Acts 2:47). Why? Because the warmth of their community, empowered by the Holy Spirit, was outward-facing. Their hearts beat with the same rhythm as Christ’s: to seek and save the lost (Luke 19:10).

Too often, we confuse spiritual comfort with spiritual maturity. We grow close to one another, which is good. But if our closeness becomes a wall instead of a welcome, we risk turning community into a clique.

Pickleball, believe it or not, is not just a game. It’s an opportunity. A court can become a bridge. The laughter, teamwork, and shared joy are fertile ground for friendship—and for planting gospel seeds.

Jesus didn’t only preach in synagogues. He walked among fishermen, tax collectors, Samaritans, and even Roman centurions. He went to where people gathered—not to form exclusive circles, but to invite all into the Kingdom of God.

When we invite others—especially those who don’t yet know Jesus—we are reflecting the heart of God. When we welcome believers from other communities, we are practicing the unity that Jesus prayed for in John 17: “that they may be one as we are one.”

Yes, it may feel different. Yes, it may require adjustment. But let’s not shrink back from what God might be doing. What if this pickleball court becomes a place of salvation? What if the relationships formed here lead someone to Christ?

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Reflection Questions:

1. Do I see my fellowship as something to guard, or something to give away?

2. What fears or discomforts do I need to surrender in order to welcome others?

3. How can I use everyday activities—like sports or hobbies—as platforms for ministry?

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Prayer:

Lord Jesus, thank You for the gift of community. Help us to love not just those who are like us, but those who are still far from You. Give us hearts that welcome, words that encourage, and eyes that see the opportunities You’re placing before us. May our fellowship grow—not just in numbers, but in love, joy, and mission. Use even something as simple as a game to glorify Your name. Amen.

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Let your life group not only play together, but also live sent together. The court is open—so is the Kingdom. Let’s play with purpose.

Play More, Eat More, Pray More, Love More

 Play More, Eat More,

Pray More, Love More

Since March 2023, I had been on a strict low-carb, low-sugar, no-white-rice, no-white-bread kind of journey—doctor’s orders to manage my weight and, in turn, my health.

Then came March 2025, and with it, the game-changer: pickleball. I played actively, almost daily. My output began to outweigh my input. The weight dropped faster than expected. So fast that people around me grew concerned.

The advice I never expected came flooding in: “Eat more!”
And so... I did.

For the past three months, I’ve eaten freely, joyfully, and—let’s be honest—gloriously. Dishes I had long avoided made their way back onto my plate. And for the first time in a long while, I savored food without guilt.

But here’s the twist: Now that I’ve enjoyed this little food freedom, a quiet guilt started to creep back in—not about calories, but about gluttony.

That’s when God gently reminded me:
“Play more, eat more, pray more, love more.”

It’s not about the extremes. It’s about the balance.
I was never meant to live in fear of food, nor to idolize it.
I was never meant to push my body to the edge, nor neglect its needs.
What I am meant to do is enjoy this life—fully, faithfully, and freely.

So today, I return to the rhythm of grace:

✅ Play more – steward this body with joyful movement.
✅ Eat more – nourish it without shame or fear.
✅ Pray more – stay connected to the One who gives life and health.
✅ Love more – because love, not guilt, is the truest motivator.

Whatever season you’re in—fasting or feasting, training or resting—may you find balance in His presence. He delights in your laughter, your energy, your fellowship around a meal.

You are not defined by the food on your plate or the size of your clothes.
You are defined by His love.

Play more. Eat more. Pray more. Love more.

So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do,

do it all for the glory of God. (1 Corinthians 10:31)

I Accomplished More by Doing Less

I Accomplished More by Doing Less

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." — Matthew 11:28

"What are you doing here?” I smiled, because I knew my answer was not what many would expect. After years in an exhausting and stressful job, I retired—not because I had nothing left to give, but because I had completed what was entrusted to me. My children had graduated, my duty as a provider was fulfilled.

Throughout my many years in church I had served in various ministries.

Now, I continue to serve—but without the weight of doing everything. 

Like Mary, who sat at Jesus’ feet while Martha was busy serving (Luke 10:42), I have learned that the best thing is not always doing, but being—being present, being at peace, and being in tune with God’s grace.

By doing less, I have accomplished more.


I have come to know God in a deeper, more personal way.

I have learned more of the true meaning of the rest that Jesus calls us to.

I have seen many others step up and grow in their calling.

I have found more joy in simple moments, unburdened by busyness.


Chuck Swindoll, in Grace Awakening, puts it well: “God is not impressed with our religious efforts. He’s not interested in how much we do for Him, but in how much we enjoy Him.” That truth has freed me. I no longer measure my faithfulness by how much I take on. Instead, I focus on what truly matters—serving where God leads and resting where He grants rest.

So, what am I doing here? I am still serving, still growing, still making an impact— I have found that by doing less, I have accomplished more.

Lord, teach me to embrace Your grace, to serve where You lead, and to rest in the assurance that You are always at work. Amen. 

The more I Prayed, the more I Lost

The more I Prayed, the more I Lost

Many people pray with the intention of asking for something. In fact, Jesus Himself said, "Ask, and it shall be given to you..." (Matthew 7:7). So, naturally, we often enter the prayer room with requests—seeking blessings, guidance, or solutions to our problems.

Even non-christians do the same in their own way—turning to idols, to strike 4D, gain material wealth, healing, or even praying for their children to achieve better academic results.

But this raises an important question:

What do I truly gain from regularly praying to God?

Nowadays, I don’t seem to remember much of what I gained—but I can clearly say that I lost.

I lost the burden of guilt, knowing that God genuinely forgives sins.

I lost envy and jealousy toward my schoolmates who are still thriving in business or making big money in the corporate world.

I lost my ego—the desire to own a bigger car, a better house, or to prove my worth through material success.

I lost the anger I once carried before stepping into prayer.

I lost greed—the constant craving for more wealth and possessions.

I lost depression, a struggle I was prone to not too long ago.

I lost insecurity, now that I trust everything is in God’s hands.

But most of all, I lost the fear of death—because I know my Savior has gone before me, preparing a place for me in the Father’s house, where I will live for eternity.

Looking back, I realize that everything I lost through prayer was never meant to define me. Letting go of guilt, envy, ego, greed, and fear didn’t leave me empty—it freed me.

After all, “What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world, but loses his soul?” (Mark 8:36)