Our Peace in His Presence

Life isn’t fair! I don’t know how often I have said these words aloud in exasperation or quietly to myself. I know I shouldn’t envy or covet, but I tend to push the boundaries.

When I was younger, my mother and I went to town. I looked out the car window and saw a pickup truck beside us pulling a beautiful, brand-new fishing boat. I remember saying, “Wow, I want that boat.”

My mother gave me a condensed version of the meaning of the commandment “Thou shalt not covet.” She said, “You’re not supposed to say it like that. You’re supposed to say, “Wow, I’d like to have a boat like that.”

I have never forgotten the quick little lesson she gave me that day. Scripture admonishes us to free ourselves from the spirit of covetousness, envy, and discontent. Not to let things become our first love. We get a false sense of security when we obtain things like others have. We feel left behind if we do not accumulate them. This produces discontentment, which is never satisfied and makes life seem unfair.

We have security in God because He gives life meaning (Hebrews 13:5). Things depreciate and lose their value. When we live for Jesus, we have everything. The Bible tells us we are joint heirs with Him. We have access to the riches of heaven. We are children of the King, and He owns all the wealth of this world. We will walk on streets of gold, own a mansion, and join Him one day for the great marriage supper of the Lamb. This is true wealth, spiritual wealth, that surpasses all material riches.

God created a space within us that only He can fill, so His image would merge with ours. This purpose is a sure and eternal reward. Earthly things we covet are fleeting. They do not bring lasting satisfaction. Only the love and blessings of Jesus can fill the void in our hearts and lead to contentment.

To conquer the temptation of coveting transient things of this world, let Jesus satisfy your heart with the abundant blessings He freely gives.

As a college student, my season is surrounded by eager expectations. I’ve heard about so many dreams waiting to be fulfilled, goals wanting to be achieved, and entire futures ready to be reached. But all those things can feel so distant, almost like we’re just waiting for real life to begin.

How often are we frustrated by waiting? Whether it’s for a doctor’s appointment, promotion, or a relationship, the things we wait for can feel like things we’re missing out on in the moment. We can perceive the present as meaningless or, at the least, not the fullness of what God has for us.

Beyond our present circumstances, walking with God means joining the greatest wait the spiritual saints before us also endured. Our lives exist within the promise of heaven, but there’s also the promise of Jesus’s return. We have much to look forward to (Romans 8:24-25).

Expectations may begin in eagerness, but when the awe fades, dullness arrives. When our Bibles close, we can look around at the world and believe that God exists only there, not in our current circumstances.

We may be waiting for someday, but we aren’t waiting alone, and God calls us into today. God doesn’t expect our waiting to be passive. God’s people have always waited, but the church keeps moving forward.

That’s the thing about hope. It doesn’t slow us down or make us pause. Unlike sitting in a waiting room or standing in line at the grocery store, the waiting God calls us to is hopeful and purposeful living. On a smaller scale, that’s what I love about college. Everyone is full of “not yet” dreams, but they’re all still working to build the futures they haven’t quite reached. That’s what makes this season of life so exciting.

God is so good to give us something to anticipate. The wait will be over one day. For now, may your hope cause you to walk closer with God. Let the roots of God’s hope grow deep into your life as you trust that you’ll see the fruit of His promises both then and now.

I stared at the barren space now overgrown with weeds and grass. My husband planted tomatoes there, but he had died. He was in the arms of Jesus, but I was left with barren ground. The prospect of transforming this weedy space into a fruitful garden felt overwhelming.

In the garage, I found my husband’s tiller, additional fencing, weed cloth, plant food, tomato cages, hoses, a water timer, and bird netting—everything I needed to turn this barren space into a garden—everything I needed to keep the weeds, the birds, and the squirrels away.

But I was missing one thing: the tomato plants. Well, two things. I needed to commit to planting, watering, weeding, and tending the tomatoes as they grew.

Peter tells me this is true of my spiritual garden as well. I have everything needed to bear the Spirit’s fruit in my life. I don’t even have to buy the starter plant. God’s Holy Spirit lives inside me already. God has called me. I need to let His presence grow in my life, plant His Word in my mind, water it with prayer, and weed out my selfish desires. He has given me the tools I need to keep the weeds, birds, and predators away. His divine power has given me everything I need for life and godliness.

I grabbed the tiller and headed to the garden. I had work to do—challenging work that would make my muscles ache. It would take dedicated time when I don’t answer the phone or check my emails. I would need to be patient and wait for God to bring fruit to the plants. But I had everything I needed.

God, through His glory and goodness, calls us (2 Peter 1:3). He gives us everything we need for life and godliness. Join me today in planting His Word and turning the barren spaces in your life into beautiful, fruit-bearing gardens.

Occasionally, I allow my nieces to join me when I teach the new members’ Sunday Bible study. One Sunday, while teaching a lesson on why the events of the Easter season matter, I took some time to review a list of foundational things the Bible says about Jesus. I came to the item on the list about Jesus’ crucifixion, death, burial, and resurrection. I explained that the risen Jesus physically appeared to people, ate meals, and continued to teach His disciples.

At this point, my thirteen-year-old niece’s hand shot up. “Wait, wait, wait a minute, Aunt DeeDee. Now, that’s hard to believe.”

Her proclamation caught me off guard. I know that she knows the Bible stories we discuss at home and study in church. When asked questions about the real meaning of Easter, she gives what sound like biblically literate answers. Why was the resurrection suddenly so hard to believe?

My niece’s reaction to hearing me teach on the resurrection is reminiscent of the disciples’ response. Despite hearing Jesus speak about His mission on earth, the disciples did not fully comprehend it. Seeing the empty tomb and hearing the eyewitness testimony of those to whom Jesus initially appeared did not move some of them to accept the truth and believe.

The change of heart that the disciples needed did not manifest itself until after the risen Savior appeared to them (Mark 16:14). Jesus directly addressed their disbelief and hardness of heart. He taught them and gave them instructions: go into all the world and spread the gospel. Jesus models loving correction and grace in His response to His disciples’ disbelief. He gives hope to those who may have head knowledge of the gospel but still find some parts of the biblical narrative hard to believe in the heart.

If you find yourself struggling to accept some aspects of biblical truth, take your questions, doubts, and disbelief to God. Examine what His Word says is true. Confess the area of disbelief, and humbly pray for God to help you embrace the truth by faith. 

My brother’s number is still in my contacts. Death turns the mundane into monuments. A contact entry becomes a gravestone, and a voicemail a time capsule. Empty space carries so much weight. It’s a heavy empty.

Paul’s words about love’s permanence aren’t just poetry. When everything else falls away, when faith wobbles in the darkness and hope feels like a cruel joke, love stands its ground. It outlasts the funeral flowers, the casseroles, the well-meaning platitudes. It outlasts everything.

Death doesn’t sever connections—it transforms them. The cardinal at breakfast is no longer just a bird. My niece asking for the same bedtime story isn’t just a child’s routine. She’s keeping her dad’s voice alive. Each memory is proof that love outlasts heartbeats. These aren’t coincidences or desperate grasps at meaning; they’re love finding new channels to flow through when the old ones close.

Grief changes us, not by breaking us but by teaching us to carry something new. We face the empty chair at breakfast and find a way forward. That cereal aisle at the grocery store becomes a place for smiles instead of tears. When memories hit—in the middle of meetings, during late-night drives, at 3 a.m. silence—they  remind us that death ends a life, not a relationship.

Like our connection with Christ, we may not see Him, but the relationship shapes, guides, and changes us. The bond remains unseen but shapes every move into something more meaningful. When we understand this—really understand it—everything shifts. Those random moments of connection aren’t random at all. The dream where our loved ones feel so close that we can touch them, the song that brings them rushing back, the laugh that sounds exactly like theirs. These are love’s echoes, proving what Paul knew: love never fails, never fades, and never dies (1 Corinthians 13:13).

Here’s the brutal truth wrapped in grace: don’t wait for tomorrow. Put down this devotional and call someone. Tell and re-tell stories. While God promises reunion, these earthly moments are precious gifts—downpayments on eternity. Love finds new ways to shine through our broken hearts until that glorious day when all things are made whole.

Think of ways that you can lift the heavy empty of grief.