Author: Kelly Skelton

I can’t help but have a vivid picture in my mind as I read these Scriptures: a beautiful, long wooden table surrounded by prominent figures from the Bible—chatting, smiling, and enjoying what would forever be a sacred dinner. Then, Jesus stops. He pushes His seat away from the table and does something most leaders would hardly consider.

In that moment, Jesus flips the script on the world’s definition of leadership.

The disciples had witnessed His miracles, His wisdom, and His power—yet in the upper room, Jesus shocks them. He removes His outer garment, kneels, and begins to wash their feet. I imagine their feet—tattered, cut, scraped, and filthy from the dusty roads they had walked.

We know this wasn’t just any act of service. Foot washing was reserved for the lowest-ranking servant in the household. But here is Jesus—the King of kings—taking on that very role.

What makes this moment even more significant is that Jesus, knowing He was about to be betrayed and crucified, chose to spend His final moments not being served, but serving. His hands, which had healed the sick and raised the dead, were now washing the dirty, calloused feet of His friends.

When we reflect on who Jesus is, and see Him humbly take on the role of a servant, we’re left with a challenge:

What are we willing to lay down in order to serve others?
How can we carry this mindset into our workplace, our homes, and our communities?
What simple act can we offer today to reflect His love?

Prayer
Lord, as we begin this week, open our eyes to the needs around us. Show us where we can step in and serve. Teach us not to consider any act of kindness or humility beneath us. Help us to live like You—with a heart ready to kneel, to serve, and to love. Let us be Your hands and feet in a world that desperately needs Your touch.
Amen.

How has Christ shaped your story?
How can you change the narrative from what was to what He did for you?

Life isn’t necessarily a series of things that happened to you.
What if you shifted your perspective and looked at it as a series of things that happened for you?

When I was 24 years old, I was engaged and chasing a far-off dream of becoming a photojournalist for Sports Illustrated. However, through a series of God-breathed events, that dream drastically changed. I found myself as a single mom, chasing the dream of a family, a more fulfilling career, and the gift of having more time to spend with my daughter.

Though I’ve never taken a single photograph or written an article for Sports Illustrated, God used my story—my hurt—to publish a children’s book embracing adoption. He perfectly pieced my family together in a way only He could, in a way I never would have imagined.

For me, my story is a reminder that we are each chosen and created by God. I am forever thankful that He redirected my steps, placed new desires in my heart, and ultimately changed my story.

My challenge to you this Easter weekend is simple: share your story.
Share your testimony. When the opportunity comes, speak boldly about what God has done for you—how He has transformed your life from what it looked like, from what it could have been, into what it is now.

I pray that as you embrace this Good Friday, you are reminded that Jesus’ death on the cross sets you free. It gives your life meaning and purpose. The very fact that you are breathing shows that you have purpose here.

Dare to share your story so that others can be inspired to find pieces of theirs.

Just like Jesus’ story didn’t end at the cross, neither does yours.
Your story doesn’t end at the place where you were hurt, where you made mistakes, or where you took a wrong turn. Let that be the beginning of your next chapter—the place where you let God heal you, forgive you, and deliver you.

This Easter, change your story.

Do you ever wonder if Jesus wanted to change His story—to remove the cross from His life, to spare Himself?
How often do we wish we could change our own stories?

Imagine if there hadn’t been another chapter after those three days.
Imagine if the darkest day the world has ever seen hadn’t flipped the script and changed everything.
But it did. God used His pain for a much greater purpose—and there’s purpose in your pain too.

In my years of teaching, raising a family, and being active in our community, I’ve learned that pain has a way of making us more empathetic. When we walk through difficult seasons, we gain the ability to comfort others who are suffering in the same way. Often, it’s through our own pain that we learn how to truly love and support others.

Just as Jesus understood our pain and suffered for us, we can use our pain to point others toward the hope and healing that comes through Christ.

I’ve come to realize that God doesn’t waste our pain. He uses it to refine us, to help us grow, and to shape us into the parents, friends, and leaders He’s called us to be. The struggles we face today may not make sense right now, but they are part of the beautiful tapestry God is weaving in our lives. That pain is shaping you, strengthening you, and drawing you closer to the One who understands pain better than anyone.

Trust that God is using every moment—even the painful ones—for your good and His glory.

I pray that as you walk through this day, you are reminded that you are not alone in any season of pain or struggle. You may feel overwhelmed by the challenges you face, but know that He is using these moments to grow you and draw you closer to Him.

Trust that your pain has purpose, and that He is working in and through you, even when you can’t see it.

Lord, give us the strength to endure, the wisdom to learn from these struggles, and the grace to share Your love with others who are hurting. Thank You for never wasting our pain. Amen.

As a mother, I often think about the moments in life when I’ve had to make tough choices for my children. When I picture the story of Barabbas being pardoned in the Bible, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with emotion. Barabbas was a criminal—a murderer—and yet the crowd chose to set him free instead of Jesus! The choice seems so unjust. Barabbas was guilty, yet he walked away without paying for his crime, while Jesus, who had done no wrong, was sentenced to die on the cross.

This moment isn’t just a story from history—it’s a reflection of God’s incredible grace and mercy.

For me, the story of Barabbas represents something deeply personal. It’s a reminder of how often we fall short—how we, like Barabbas, are so undeserving of forgiveness, yet God still chooses to set us free. Barabbas didn’t earn his release. He was guilty, and yet he walked away without consequence. Jesus took our place, just as He took the place of Barabbas. He took the punishment we deserve for all the mistakes we’ve made. The freedom Barabbas experienced that day is the same freedom Jesus offers to each of us.

We may not be in prison, but we are all trapped by our sin—and Jesus is the only one who can free us.

As a mom, this truth hits even deeper. I want my children to know that no matter how far they fall, no matter what they do, they are always loved, always forgiven, and always worthy of grace. Just like Barabbas, they are forgiven not because they’ve earned it, but because of God’s unending love. I want my children to understand that no matter what mistakes they make, God’s grace is enough to cover them.

It’s a truth I will strive to reflect in the way I love my children, my husband, and everyone around me. Every day offers a new chance to live in grace, to forgive, and to show mercy.

I pray you are reminded of the amazing gift of grace you’ve been given—one you don’t deserve. I pray God will help you see the impact you can have on those around you and inspire you to show others the power of His forgiveness and love. I pray God will help you be a living example of grace, patience, and compassion in your home and in every relationship and space you enter.

Lord, when we fall short, remind us of Your unending mercy, and help us to extend that same grace to others. May we always walk in the freedom You’ve given us, and may we never forget how precious Your forgiveness is—and the impact it makes.

I have a vivid picture in my mind of what I imagine Jesus looked like hanging on the cross. Blood dripped down His arms, His face, and the rest of His body—just hanging there, hanging on for life. I imagine what His cry out to God sounded like—the gut-wrenching cry of a child looking for their father when they’re hurt and desperate for His comfort. I imagine how immensely difficult it was for God to let it happen. To watch His only Son hang there, mocked, whipped, beaten—yet internally unblemished. All for the sake of everyone else’s sins, to offer them forgiveness they didn’t deserve. The very people who mocked Him—He was dying for them, to offer forgiveness and eternal life.

As a parent myself, I can’t fathom allowing that to happen to one of my own children. I can’t imagine not standing up for them when the world is knocking them down. I can’t imagine watching them suffer and not stepping in—sacrificing myself to ease their pain.

This is what I imagine grace looks like. It’s blood, sweat, and tears. It’s hitting rock bottom, feeling alone, not knowing where to turn—and then someone graciously steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

When I was in college, my best friend since second grade and I got into an argument—one that, to this day, I can’t even remember the true reason for. It drove a wedge in our friendship, and we never talked about it again. She moved to a different state, and we physically and emotionally grew apart.

But when she heard that my mom’s breast cancer had come back and hospice had been called in, she—without asking—made the six-hour drive by herself to spend the weekend with me, taking care of my mom. She literally came in with open arms, asking how she could help. She carried my mom’s weak and dying dog to the kitchen sink and gave her a bath. She helped me roll my mom over and change her tattered bed sheets. She went to the grocery store, bought food, and watched me spoon-feed my sweet mother.

It was a vivid picture of grace that I will never forget. In those moments, she was an answered prayer I never thought would walk through that door. That’s grace.

That is the kind of grace I want to walk with in this world—one where I forgive past hurts without question, one where I’m willing to step in when the world feels like it’s crumbling. Where I come in unannounced and can be the hands and feet of Jesus wherever I’m needed.

I pray that as you read these words, you feel challenged to do the same—to embrace the grace you don’t deserve and offer it freely to others, just as God has offered it to you. I pray you are patient, understanding, and forgiving, even when it’s difficult. Look past the faults and flaws of others, just as God looks past yours. I pray your heart will be filled with compassion—and that you can’t help but exude the love of Christ in all that you do.

Have you ever done something you definitely thought twice about—but did it anyway? A choice where your conscience immediately stepped in moments after you made the decision, and you instantly felt guilt? That’s how I imagine Pilate felt moments after he handed Jesus over to the Roman soldiers. He knew Jesus was innocent, yet he gave in to the peer pressure of the crowd and surrendered His life.

In our daily lives, we are all faced with choices—sometimes making the right decision, other times making slightly wrong ones.

Perhaps our decisions aren’t as momentous as Pilate’s, but often, we make choices knowing they go against what we believe and what we know to be true. We say things we know we shouldn’t. Instead of being peacemakers, we engage in gossip at work. Maybe the sin you’re struggling with feels heavier than gossip. Owning up to your guilt and asking for forgiveness is a powerful step toward healing, recognizing the truth in Romans 3:23: “For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard.”

This verse reminds us that no one is perfect—we all make mistakes that separate us from God. Yet, in acknowledging where we fall short, we open the door to His grace and mercy. By humbling ourselves, seeking forgiveness, and sincerely repenting, we find peace and restoration. Forgiveness not only restores our relationship with God but also lifts the burden of guilt from our hearts.

I pray that as you begin your week, you continue an open dialogue with God—admitting your wrongs and walking in the truth that His forgiveness is real. I pray you’re reminded that through God’s love and grace, we don’t have to carry the weight of our failures alone. He offers us forgiveness and the chance to start over.