Author: Kelly Skelton

I think about legacy more than I used to. Maybe it’s because our oldest just left for college and I know our youngest isn’t far behind…but I find myself wondering what they’ll remember from their childhood seasons. It’s easy to assume legacy is about what we leave for people—money, a house, heirlooms. But in Luke 12:21, Jesus warns that it’s possible to leave behind plenty of things and still have nothing that matters. The man in His parable had wealth stored up, barns full, and a future planned—but he was poor in the one thing that lasts: a relationship with God. That truth is unsettling.

As a mom—and as a parent—we often carry the heartbeat of our homes. But in the chaos of daily life, it’s easy to focus on providing for our families and forget to pass on what truly anchors us. Yes, I want my children to have wisdom, provision, even special family recipes and stories. But more than anything, I want them to have a deep relationship with God. I want them to remember how we prayed when times felt uncertain—that I opened my Bible more than I opened my Amazon cart.

Being “rich toward God” means walking with Him daily—trusting Him, talking to Him, and prioritizing His kingdom over our comfort. And when we do that, we’re planting seeds in the hearts of those around us. Seeds that don’t just grow in this life, but prayerfully in the one to come. Someday, our bank accounts will be forgotten. But the way we loved Jesus in front of our children, our families, and our community? That could shape generations.

Prayer:
I pray as you close out this week, you’re reminded of the impact you can make right where you’re planted. That your life—no matter what possessions you have—would be a life that points others to Him. Lord, help us be rich in You and not in this world, so that we can help shape eternity.

As a mom and teacher, I feel like I’m constantly giving—my time, energy, even my sleep. Sometimes it feels like there’s nothing left. Yet when it comes to generosity—whether helping a friend in need, giving, or making time for someone else—I sometimes find myself hesitating, overthinking: “But do we have that to spare?”

But God doesn’t ask us to give from abundance; He asks us to give with faith. Being rich toward God means living with open hands, even when we feel we don’t have much to offer.

Prayer:
Today I pray that God would make us rich toward Him. Loosen our grip on time, money, and comfort. Help us model generosity, not scarcity. Let our homes be known as places of giving—not just to our own, but to others in need.

Every week can feel like a juggling act—stretching dollars at the grocery store, keeping up with gas prices and spontaneous necessities, all while still trying to leave room for generosity. But Jesus reminds us that while planning and saving are good, they are not the ultimate goal. I can’t harvest peace from a spreadsheet. I can’t guarantee tomorrow, no matter how well I plan today. What I can do is be faithful: to steward what I have and trust that God will fill in the gaps everywhere else.

God isn’t asking for our leftovers; He wants to be part of the conversation from the start. He wants us to be wise and disciplined, yes—but also openhanded and trusting. Because at the end of the day, everything we manage is temporary. The only investments that last forever are the ones made in love, obedience, and generosity—impacting the lives of those around us and bringing others home to Jesus.

Prayer:
I pray today that if you feel the strain of tight budgets and growing needs, God would calm your anxious heart. That He would help you see His hand even in the small provisions. That He would make you a wise steward who trusts Him more than numbers. May your finances tell the story of a life surrendered to Him.

It’s so easy to look around at what others are doing and feel behind—behind in saving for college, behind in buying the name-brand things, the new cars, behind in vacations and trips, and on and on. But I’ve realized that when I focus on what others have, I start building “bigger barns” in my mind—thinking if I just had more money, more time, or more resources, I’d finally feel secure.

Luke 12:18 tells the story of a man whose land produced an abundant harvest. A good thing, right? Yet instead of using the overflow to bless others or seek God’s wisdom, he decides to build bigger barns—to store more for himself and make life more comfortable. But it wasn’t the harvest that was the problem—it was his heart.

As a mom, I know we carry deep responsibilities. Our instincts often push us toward control and self-sufficiency. But the message in this verse is sobering: abundance without purpose is empty. The rich man was so focused on securing his future that he missed the present. He forgot that the harvest came from God’s hands in the first place.

You may not have overflowing barns, but you might have hungry mouths, unexpected bills, and a fierce desire for a sense of security. Whether we’re stretching leftovers or stretching a paycheck, our comfort isn’t in how much we have, but in who holds us together. God doesn’t ask us to build bigger barns—He asks us to build a bigger faith.

I pray as you go through this day that you’re reminded your worth isn’t found in bigger barns, a magical bank account balance, or in material things. Take a moment to reflect on all that God has blessed you with, and shine that light in your workplace, your schools, and your community.

You know the scene: it’s the end of the month, and the kitchen table is covered in bills, scattered like a battlefield. Receipts are tossed from one end to the other—groceries, gas, sports, fast food, the broken dryer. You’re trying to make too little stretch too far. I’m sure we’ve all felt it at some point—that wave of defeat, frustration, and exhaustion. In that moment, it’s easy to wish the month had turned out differently.

Look at Luke, chapter 12. A man in the crowd asks Jesus to settle a financial dispute, but Jesus responds with a warning: “Life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.” He then tells a parable about a rich man who stores up wealth for himself, only to lose it all overnight. He had everything—except what mattered most: a heart rich toward God.

I don’t know about you, but that hits hard for me. Not because I’m hoarding wealth, but because I’ve been tempted to believe that peace comes from having “enough.” As if security is found in a full fridge or a padded savings account. And when those aren’t there, fear creeps in and panic sets up shop. But Jesus reminds us: life is not found in abundance—life is found in Him.

Being “rich toward God” means trusting Him in the stretch and worshiping Him in the lack. It means finding peace not in a perfect number in my bank account, but in my Provider. It’s choosing to believe that even when things are tight, God’s hand is not.

I pray as you start this week that you are reminded life is not found in what you have, but in whose you are. Lord, help us to be rich in faith, generous in spirit, and anchored in Your provision. I pray you can release the weight of feeling like you don’t have enough and realize that He is more than enough.

Jesus doesn’t just serve—He invites us to follow.
It’s not a suggestion—it’s a commissioning.

When we think back to the story of Mary sitting at Jesus’ feet and Martha busy in service, we’re reminded that both devotion and action matter in His Kingdom.

To be a foot-washer in today’s world is to lean into both.
It means praying with a friend in crisis.
Running errands for an overwhelmed co-worker.
Mentoring someone who’s struggling.
Listening—really listening—without rushing to fix.

Jesus says, “As I have done, you should do.”
That means we carry His towel into every room we enter—ready to serve, ready to love, ready to get a little messy for the sake of others.

Prayer
As we end the work week, Jesus, help us carry the towel of servant love into every space we enter. Whether through words or actions, help us walk out our faith boldly and humbly. Make us people who don’t wait to be asked, but who joyfully follow Your example and lean in—ready to serve, ready to love, and ready to reflect You.
Amen.

We live in a world that celebrates the loudest voice and the most curated image.
We tend to look to highlight reels and find validation in likes and comments.

But the Kingdom of God looks different.

It celebrates hidden faithfulness and humility.
It honors quiet serving, unseen volunteering, and deep, sacrificial love.

So often, we feel pressure to measure up—to be everything to everyone.
But Jesus calls us to something quieter, deeper: humility that heals.

When we choose to serve instead of compete, to lift others instead of comparing ourselves, we create space for God’s love to thrive.

Humility isn’t weakness.
It’s the strength to serve when no one notices, when no one applauds, when it’s not shared on a screen.
It’s the power to love without keeping score—to step up, lean in, and put someone else’s needs before our own.

Prayer
Lord, today I ask You to free us from the pressure to prove ourselves. Teach us to live with open hearts and gentle spirits. Help us serve with grace, knowing You see every hidden act. Remind us that Your thoughts of us are the only ones that truly matter. Give us a love that stretches beyond what’s easy or comfortable. Teach us to love—even when it’s hard—just like Jesus did.
Amen.

Peter’s resistance to being washed wasn’t about pride—it was about shame.

I think we all know that feeling.
We often carry quiet guilt, old wounds, or hidden insecurities. But Jesus insists:
“Let Me wash you.”

He doesn’t just want our hands that serve—He wants our hearts, fully surrendered.
He longs to wash away every voice that says we’re not enough, so that we can pour into others from a place of healing and wholeness.

To serve like Jesus, we must first be filled by Him.
When we allow Him to cleanse, restore, and heal us, we become vessels of His mercy to a world in desperate need of it.

Prayer
Jesus, today we give You every part of us—the broken, the weary, the unsure. Wash us in Your grace. Quiet the voices of shame and remind us of who we are in You. Fill us, Lord, so we can pour out love and hope wherever You lead us. Use our stories, our scars, and our strength to reflect Your beauty to the world around us.
Amen.

What kind of love kneels before the one who will betray you?
What kind of love washes the feet of someone who will deny even knowing you?

That’s unconditional love.

Jesus’ love didn’t flinch. It didn’t retreat or draw lines. Instead, He leaned in—to everyone at that table.

His act of foot washing was driven by deep, sacrificial love. It wasn’t selective love. Among the disciples were Peter, who would deny Him, and Judas, who would betray Him. Yet Jesus didn’t hesitate. He washed all of their feet—without bitterness, without holding back. That kind of love goes far beyond emotion; it’s a conscious decision to put others first, even when they don’t deserve it.

We know the cost of love—whether in parenthood, friendship, ministry, or leadership. True love means serving when we’re tired, forgiving when it hurts, and showing up even when our hearts are fragile.

Jesus gives us the perfect example: to love bravely, not perfectly. To serve not because others have earned it, but because He first loved us. This kind of love rarely comes with applause. It often happens behind the scenes—through small, sacred sacrifices. But it’s in those hidden places that we are most like Christ.

Prayer
Jesus, help us to lead like You. Give us eyes to see the needs of others and a heart willing to meet those needs, no matter the cost. Help us embody Your love—even when it’s hard, even when it’s not returned. Teach us to serve from a heart that overflows with Your compassion. Let our love be more than words; let it become action that changes lives and transforms the community around us.
Amen.