You were chosen to bear fruit that lasts. Your existence is not temporal; it is eternal. Your actions are not of someone who passes through, but of someone who is sent.
John 15:16 says, “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit—and that your fruit should remain—so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you.”
“God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him.” — John Piper, Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist.
Let me tell you a story.
It was late fall. I remember because it was already dark as I stepped off the MARTA train and started walking toward my destination. The air had that unmistakable chill, not the clean, biting cold of the north, but the damp Georgia kind that creeps under your coat and settles in your bones.
I was late to meet a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. My head was down, shoulders hunched against the wind, when I caught the faint shape of a man standing across the courtyard. Just a shadow. But then, a voice inside me—quiet, yet impossible to ignore—said, “Stop.”
So I stopped.
The man wore a trench coat, but it looked more for appearance than warmth. He stood there, glancing left and right like he didn’t know what to do next. I thought, I’m late, and began to move on.
I Couldn’t Walk Away
Then came another whisper: “To the least of these…”
Matthew 25:40, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”
It wasn’t a command. Not even a plea. Just a gentle reminder—truth spoken in stillness. That’s how God often speaks. He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t push. He invites.
For the first time, I honestly looked at the man. His face told the story his words never would. Pain, loss, and disappointment. His Eyes were far older than his age. I knew that if I engaged, I would step into his burden. And I also knew, once I saw him—really saw him—I couldn’t walk away.
So I asked quietly, “Can I help you?”
That’s all it took. A small gesture, but to him, it meant everything. I gave him what I had, and it was enough. He straightened his back, shook my hand, and nodded a quiet thanks. But his eyes—those eyes—spoke volumes: relief, surrender, maybe even hope.
As I turned to leave, something pulled at me again. I looked back and said, “You know, God loves you. That’s why I’m here right now.”
And he smiled. “Yes, sir, I truly know that.”
“Small acts, when done with great love, can change the world.” – Inspired by Mother Teresa,
You Were Chosen for Moments Like These
God is not only the Author of great missions and lifelong callings—what we sometimes call BHAGs (Big, Hairy, Audacious Goals)—but also the quiet, divine interruptions. The ones that whisper instead of roar. The ones that change you, if you let them.
Isaiah 6:8, “Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?’ And I said, ‘Here am I. Send me!’”
Sometimes he plants a seed, tends it over time, and gently shapes us for something big. But other times, He says, “Look. Right there. That one.” And when we look, it takes our breath away.
Those moments are memorial stones. I keep them in my heart like reminders—evidence that God invited me into His plan, not because He needed me, but because He loves me.
He chose me. He chooses you. To bear fruit—lasting fruit.
Answer the call. Be the one who stops, who listens, who speaks life into the hurting. I can’t fully explain how it will change you, only that it will. Forever.
Be that Person.
Galatians 6:9, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”
You Are a Child of the King: Embracing Your Royal Identity. That is a fantastic statement of self-worth. It is a statement most of us can’t internalize. We can’t see ourselves as royalty; we see the failures, shortcomings and defects, not the purple robe of royalty. We know, intellectually, that we are descendants of royalty. But that knowledge doesn’t filter down to our consciousness.
I do; I want to be an avenging angel, raining down brimstone and fire on all that is evil in the world; I want God to empower me to wreak havoc on all that is wrong. I want to be invincible and omni-powerful; I want to walk into the private enclaves of the rich and powerful and demand retribution. How cathartic would that be? How validating and hopeful would the world seem to me? Me, reigning over the unjust and the unworthy. But who would want to rain down brimstone on me?
Matthew 5:5 – “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.”
“Breaking Free: Doing That For Which You Were Created.” Have you ever felt like you might not be doing the right thing or that you’re just in the wrong place? It’s a familiar feeling, and we find ourselves in such situations for many reasons. Ideally, passion drives us—we discover what we love, pursue it, and thrive in it. But for many, that’s the exception rather than the rule.
Living the life of Ester: embracing your God-given purpose. Have you ever wondered if you’re where you’re meant to be? The story of Esther offers profound insight into how God orchestrates our lives to fulfill His purposes. In Esther 4:12-14, Mordecai’s words remind us of our divine placement: “And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” Even when we don’t realize it, we are precisely where God wants us to be.
Peter Pan said, “You can have anything in life if you sacrifice everything else for it.”
The need to love and be loved is one of the most decisive impulses created in us at birth. 1 Corinthians 13 is one of the Bible’s most significant chapters ever written on this subject.
The present moment is all we truly have. Think about it—there are 31,536,000 seconds in 2025, and once they’re gone, they’re gone; no rewinds, no replays, no do-overs. Every single second is an opportunity, and this New Year, let’s commit to making the most of them.
All will know God exists even if they do not acknowledge Him as Lord and Savior. Many people acknowledge a power greater than themselves without allowing that power to have dominion over their lives.