Running on Fumes

As a young woman, I hate going to mechanics and autobody shops. In all honesty, I don’t know much about how my car works, and you could probably sell me blinker fluid without me batting an eye. Two summers ago, I had to take my car in by myself, and at the time I was living in Georgia, so I couldn’t convince my parents to go with me. I mustered up every ounce of bravery I had and drove to a Jiffy-Lube-like place. Everything went well, and I was out of there ten minutes later. I drove home happy and very proud.

Over the next week, my check engine light came back on. I didn’t think much of it at first. I assumed my car was just being dramatic until I started hearing sounds. Not anything outrageous, but I’ve driven my car for four years, and I could tell something was off. I called my dad, and he told me to keep an eye on it, so I did. Then a week later, a new dashboard light was unlocked: the oil pressure warning light. As I was driving the very short distance home, I made it to the top of a small hill… and my car completely locked up and shut off. Panic.

Thankfully, with the help of friends who had some extra oil, everything turned out fine. But it turned out that the oil filter hadn’t been fully screwed on during the oil change, so my car had been leaking oil, and I didn’t notice. The warning lights were trying to tell me something, and I ignored them.

Lately, I’ve been meditating on our creative Creator and how He designed us with our own internal “warning lights,” especially when it comes to stress. It’s remarkable how God made us so complex. Not all stress is bad; some stress is temporary and is needed, but when stress persists, it becomes damaging. It affects listening skills, memory, cardiovascular functions, digestion, sleep, relationships, and so much more.

The famous verse often quoted when we talk about stress and anxiety is Philippians 4:6: “Do not worry about anything…” The Greek word for worry here describes a mind being pulled in opposite directions or torn to pieces by things like fear, scenarios, and what-ifs. When stress hits, our bodies respond with dashboard lights of cortisol and adrenaline. When the stressful moment ends, we’re supposed to return to homeostasis. But when we live in constant stress, our systems begin to break down.

We are the dwelling place of God; our bodies and brains matter. We are made in the image of God — Imago Dei — and Jesus Himself felt intense anguish in the Garden of Gethsemane. We live in a world where so many are stretched thin, overwhelmed, and running on empty. I don’t believe this is the kind of life Jesus meant when He said, “I have told you these things so that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete” (John 15:11).

God marvelously created our bodies, and even our stress responses testify to His provision as built-in reminders that we are not meant to carry everything ourselves.

Like my car’s oil light, the signs of stress aren’t the end, they’re invitations. Invitations to slow down before we break. To bring our worry-worn hearts to the One who sees, who knows, who cares. When the warning lights start to flash, when we feel anxious, exhausted, stretched too thin, it isn’t failure. It’s Jesus saying, “Let me handle what you’re trying to hold alone.”

Jayden Smith

Not Mine

I have a confession: I really like to be in control. Like really, really. I like knowing all the details, having a say in things, and ultimately being able to shape how they go. In my mind, if everything happens exactly how I imagine, it will be perfect. It’s why, if a book or movie doesn’t have a happy ending that I like, it upsets me.

Control itself isn’t bad — self-control is a fruit of the Spirit. But when that desire for control turns into trying to control others or circumstances, things get dicey.

This has been a tough struggle for me lately. Over the weekend, my family met up in Nebraska for a zoo day. I was so pumped. But quickly, my excitement turned to anxiety when things didn’t go exactly how I planned. I couldn’t keep track of all 11 people all the time, and I lost the little façade of control I thought I had. At one point, my mom turned to me and said, “It’s okay, there’s no point in worrying about the things you can’t control.” And my immediate thought was, “But I can control it, so there’s a lot to worry about.”

If you can’t relate to that, maybe this will sound familiar. Recently, I had two hard and uncomfortable conversations with people I deeply love. In both, I was vulnerable and shared something that had been weighing heavily on me. After the first conversation, I felt like I lost control once that person shared what I said with someone else, something I didn’t want. In the second, I was completely convinced the person would respond one way, but they went completely off-script.

Obviously, my control issues show up in a million other places, but this isn’t just a confessional.

Thankfully, we have a God who understands temptation and shows us how to handle it. In a place called Gethsemane, Jesus prayed in agony because He was about to be betrayed. In Matthew, He says, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” (26:36–39). Similarly, in Mark, He says, “Abba, Father! All things are possible for you. Take this cup away from me. Nevertheless, not what I will, but what you will.” (14:32–36).

I don’t think the saying, “let go and let God,” really works. It should be, “let’s go to God and let Him work.” Jesus, being God, had all the power and control, yet He didn’t run once things got painful. Instead, He went to the Father and laid His control at His feet.

Someone once told me that God doesn’t give us full control or reveal everything about the future because it wouldn’t be loving. At first, I thought that was ridiculous, but now it makes sense. When I try to control everything, I become stressed, tired, and overwhelmed, and that’s just with the things right in front of me. If I also had the knowledge and control of tomorrow, it would be unbearable.

Jesus said, “Therefore don’t worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:34).

Control feels safe, but giving it to God frees us. The irony is that control never actually helps. It drains our joy, fuels our anxiety, and convinces us we can carry a weight we were never meant to hold. Letting go isn’t giving up; it’s trusting the One who never loses control.

I now stop and ask myself:
- What area of my life do I need to surrender and pray, “not my will, but Yours”?
- Where is God inviting me to loosen my hold and trust His hands instead?

Have a great day!
Jayden Smith

My Ebenezer

Right now, life feels extra heavy. And I know it’s not just me.

I was flipping back through my prayer journal from 2019 and couldn’t help but reflect. For one, I’m no longer a teenager (praise God for that). But even more, page after page, prayer after prayer, I see how God has answered in ways I hadn’t even realized. He has never stopped helping me.

That reflection hit especially deep because of how heavy things feel today. Depression is on the rise, with an estimated 13.1% of people ages 12 and up reporting symptoms within a two-week span. That’s an 8% increase in just ten years. About 30% of U.S. adults will be diagnosed with depression at some point, and less than 40% will ever get help. The ~60% increase in depression is heartbreaking.

This isn’t just random information; it’s personal for me. I know what it’s like to sit in the heaviness. I was prescribed antidepressants before I was even in high school, and I’ve spent years in counseling. Those pages in my prayer journal remind me that even in the middle of all that, God was quietly answering and carrying me.

In 1 Samuel 7, the Israelites beg Samuel, “Don’t stop crying out to the Lord our God for us, so that he will save us from the Philistines.” Samuel prays, and God thunders against their enemies, giving them victory. After this big win, Samuel took a stone and set it upright and named it Ebenezer, which means “the stone of help.” He explains it a little bit more and says, “The LORD has helped us to this point.”

And right now, surrounded by death, defeat, corruption, discrimination, and injustice, I pause to look back. He has helped me to this point.

When I get swallowed by darkness and the lies in my own head, I pray Psalm 42 (and sometimes 43, since they go together) until I believe it:

Why, my soul, are you so dejected?
Why are you in such turmoil?
Put your hope in God, for I will still praise him,
My Savior and my God.
I am deeply depressed;
Therefore I remember you from the land of Jordan
and the peaks of Hermon, from Mount Mizar.
Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your breakers and your billows have swept over me.
The LORD will send his faithful love by day;
his song will be with me in the night —
a prayer to the God of my life.

The news makes money off heartbreak and disaster, but we were never meant to carry all of that. As believers, we don’t have to because our God is with us and in us, whether on the mountain or in the valley.

So I pray for whatever grief or heaviness you’re carrying. I pray against fear and anxiety in the face of the violence and brokenness around us. But more than anything, I pray that when you pause and look back at your own Ebenezer, you’ll remember: God has helped you this far and He won’t stop now.

Jayden Smith

Knead for Faith

I know I am young, but man, do I miss when I was younger. Trusting God was my strong suit. I had questions, of course, but I believed He had something good in store for me. Then came this last summer.

I went into last summer thinking God would give me rest, joy, and, if I was lucky, a tan. Instead, He handed me 800 daily servings of bread, a side of hives, and a crash course in what it means to trust His goodness.

During my internship, the bakery was my summer assignment. After a spiritually exhausting spring, I thought God would give me a “good summer.”  I pictured early mornings, warm bread, maybe some peaceful music. Instead, it was baking for 800 people, something for breakfast, lunch, two items for dinner, plus a snack, every single day.

It wasn’t the summer I expected, and honestly, not the summer I wanted. The work was constant, the heat relentless, and my body didn’t handle it well. Every shift, I found myself whispering the same prayer: “God, I don’t even know if You’re listening, but I need You so much right now.” I clung to Psalm 40:1-2:

“I waited patiently for the Lord, and He turned to me and heard my cry for help. He brought me up from a desolate pit, out of the muddy clay, and set my feet on a rock, making my steps secure.”

But even while praying, I often felt like I was sinking instead of standing. And then mid-summer, the hives came. From my neck to my feet, my skin burned in the bakery heat. I kept asking God why this was my season, but His Word reminded me He had not abandoned me.

I wish I could say the hives went away, the baking got easier, and my summer turned around. It didn’t. Later, Psalm 66 reminded me that God tests and refines His people, and that He brings them out to abundance.

If you had told me at the start of last summer that I’d end it still tired, with hives, and without the “happy” summer, I would’ve cried. Now, I see it differently. God didn’t give me the summer I wanted; He gave me the one I needed to see that His goodness is not a mood, a season, or a circumstance. It’s His nature.

God was and is still good, even when the summer felt long and the prayers felt unanswered. Psalm 66 ends by saying, “Blessed be God! He has not turned away my prayer or turned His faithful love from me.” And maybe that’s the point; learning to trust not in the life I think I deserve, but in the God who knows exactly what I need.

Have the best day!
Jayden Smith

Wasn’t a Want, But a Need

We all long to belong. God knew it from the very beginning. From the first pages of Scripture, God shows us that it is not good for us to be isolated, and throughout His Word, He calls us into community with Him and with others.

Whether it’s laughing so hard with friends I can’t breathe or having someone show up when I’m at my lowest, I’ve learned that God loves to remind me I don’t have to walk through this life by myself. One of the most unexpected and life-changing ways He taught me this was through a mentor I didn’t even know I needed until she wouldn’t stop bugging me.

SharpTop Cove is the Young Life camp where I served for 13 months. I was part of a one-year internship program where I lived, worked, and grew alongside nine other young adults. Part of the program required us to have a mentor, and that’s where Jenn enters the story.

I was given a list of women on staff or staff spouses willing to mentor us. I “mentor dated” a few, meeting with Jenn first, and honestly, she intimidated me. She radiated energy and didn’t beat around the bush. Within 15 minutes, she had me talking about my deepest struggles, and I felt overwhelmed, crossing her off my list immediately.

Over the next couple of weeks, I spent time with two other women, but I didn’t feel a connection with them. I was about to settle and pick one just to check the box. But Jenn kept calling, texting, and checking in on me. I felt bad, so I met with her again. It became clear who my mentor was.

Last year, I faced some of the hardest doubts about God and the worst beliefs about myself, but Jenn kept showing up, reminding me of God’s truth and never letting me forget who I am in Him. She made me part of her family and became one of my favorite people.

Hebrews 10:24-25 says, “And let us consider one another in order to provoke love and good works, not neglecting to gather together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging each other, and all the more as you see the day approaching.” God never intended for us to live alone. We are called to fight for community because it is worth it.

Though she still lives 15 hours away and I may not see her for a while, we call, text, and leave voice messages as often as we can.

I pray that everyone gets to experience life with a “Jenn”—someone who is loving, intentional, and faithful, reminding you of Jesus when you forget and standing by your side as you grow in faith. But more than that, I pray we all become that person for someone else, showing up consistently, pointing them to Jesus, and living out God’s call to love and disciple His people, one relationship at a time.

Have the best day!

Jayden Smith

Speak Life

We have been lying to kids for years. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Since when? Last time I checked, words have definitely hurt my feelings more than any stick or stone has broken a bone (which is never). We don’t give words enough credit for the power they hold. From the very first page of the Bible, we see the significance of speech. “Then God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light,” (Genesis 1:3). All He had to do was say it. Words created light, existence, and order.

As I am currently working on getting a B.S. in Psychology, it is fascinating to me to watch science repeat truths we hear in the Bible. Take cognitive therapy, also known as talk therapy, for example. It has gained popularity because the way we say things to ourselves and others matters. The goal is to retrain your brain and uproot negative and harmful thought patterns.

Let’s run a quick scenario: Judy works in a commercial kitchen and is overseeing a meal. A few pieces of chicken came back undercooked. She could treat it as a learning opportunity, a chance to emphasize to her team the importance of checking meat temperatures. Or she could label the mistake-makers as incapable or incompetent.

But when we label others or ourselves, we create prisons. We begin to see through the lens of that label and behave accordingly. Calling someone a failure or a screw-up doesn't solve anything; it just makes everyone feel worse and hinders growth.

Paul says it plainly in one of my favorite books of the Bible. Ephesians 4, he writes:

"Therefore, putting away lying, speak the truth, each one to his neighbor, because we are members of one another. Be angry and do not sin. Don’t let the sun go down on your anger, and don’t give the devil an opportunity… No foul language should come from your mouth, but only what is good for building up someone in need, so that it gives grace to those who hear." (verses 25–27, 29)

Our words reflect what’s in our hearts. As Jesus said in Matthew 12:34-35, “For the mouth speaks from the overflow of the heart.” Hence the saying: “Hurt people hurt people.”

I’ve spent years in a quiet war in my mind, where thoughts become beliefs. As a recovering pessimist, I know how subtle and persistent the inner critic can be. The brain, after all, believes what it hears most often. And for a long time, I was feeding it words that tore down. Psychology calls it cognitive restructuring. It is reframing our internal dialogue to promote healing. But long before therapy had a name for it, scripture was already teaching us to speak truth, build up, and give grace.

So now, I choose differently. I choose to speak life, even when it feels unnatural. Words are not just sounds. They are tools, seeds, and sometimes weapons. They build neural pathways. They shape identity. They carry the power to heal or to harm. If God used words to create the world, imagine what your words are creating.

So, speak carefully. Speak intentionally. Speak life.

Jayden Smith

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

Life is hard. As a kid, I remember hearing adults say that life would only get harder with time, but I didn’t believe them. Things felt simple and exciting. But what we take for granted as children, we often yearn for as adults.

As I grew into my teen years, the rose-tinted glasses began to come off. Life began to feel heavy, like I was carrying something I didn’t know how to name. Anxiety crept in. I started feeling different, like I didn’t quite belong. I believed I was broken. I wondered if God had checked out, because He was disappointed that I couldn’t be joyful and happy all the time.

But what I didn’t see back then: He never left. He was closer than ever.

The Bible is full of people who wrestled with hard emotions. Take Elijah in 1 Kings 19. He had just performed miraculous acts through God’s power, but Jezebel threatened his life in response. Elijah, drained and fearful, said, “I have had enough, Lord. Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” And how did God respond? Not with a reprimand, not with “be grateful.” Instead, He sent an angel to care for him, to be with him in the darkness. God met Elijah exactly where he was.

Or Jonah in chapter 4. He’s angry and overwhelmed, telling God, “Now, Lord, take away my life, for it is better for me to die than to live.” And God shows up. He talks to Jonah and even provides a plant to shade him from the sun after he runs off in frustration. God doesn't abandon Jonah to his bitterness. He stays present.

Pain was something I thought I had to just get through or ignore. But as I’ve walked through seasons of suffering, I’ve learned that God doesn’t ask us to run from our pain, but He asks us to meet Him in it. Jesus Himself didn’t run from His suffering. In the garden of Gethsemane, He prayed in anguish, asking God to take the cup of suffering away, but surrendered it to God. And on the cross, He cried out, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' Even the Son of God felt the weight of darkness.

Here’s the truth I’ve come to hold onto: God doesn’t leave us in that place. Elijah’s story doesn’t end in fear. Jonah’s story doesn’t end in bitterness. And Jesus' story certainly doesn’t end in death. God met each of them in their darkest moments and transformed and redeemed them. Pain didn’t get the final word.

In God’s hands, pain has purpose.

There’s no denying the darkness in our world: sickness, loss, poverty, injustice, and the list keeps going. It’s everywhere. But I encourage you, don’t rush past the pain; there is holy ground beneath your pain. Sit in it for a moment because that’s often where God shows up. He doesn’t avoid the broken places, instead, He meets us in them. And in His timing, He makes even the most shattered things beautiful.

Have the most amazing day!

Jayden Smith

Who Is This Man

Repetition is a powerful tool for memorizing verses and information. It’s something we seek out to help us grow. But repetition when it’s not on our terms, can feel irritating. Like a song on loop, or someone bringing the same problem to you without seeking solutions. What once was helpful can quickly become annoying.

Over the past few years, something has been repeated and not by any one person. One day, someone laid it out clearly for me, “Jayden, God is trying to tell you something. Listen.”

It all started about five years ago when I attempted to follow The Bible Recap with a few of my youth group leaders. The Bible Recap is a chronological Bible reading plan, and by day four, I hit the book of Job, and I struggled. I hate to admit it, but I became Job’s number one hater that year. I told myself I would never read that book again, dismissing it as nothing more than useless back-and-forth between Job and his so-called friends. End of discussion. Book closed.

Two years later, I found myself at a Christian university, where my Old Testament professor dedicated an entire lecture to the uniqueness of Job. He explained how the book was primarily written as poetry rather than a classic narrative. This stirred grace within me, and I had a desire to reread the book. After all, if Job made it into the Bible, it probably had something to teach.

I went verse by verse, reading different commentaries over each section of the book of Job. After many months and a couple breaks, I finally finished. I admit, I was wrong about Job.

Job was “a man of perfect integrity, who fears God and turns away from evil” (1:8). Satan approached God, questioning Job’s faith, arguing that it was only strong because of His blessings. So, God allowed Satan to test him. One by one, Job lost everything—his servants, his wealth, even his children (1:14). His wife urged him to curse God and be done with it (2:9), but “throughout all of this Job did not sin in what he said” (2:10). Then, his three friends arrived, mourning with him before launching into 34 chapters of debate. Job wrestled with his pain, his confusion, and his questions, yet he held fast to God.

In those chapters, there is so much to unpack. Job 31 echoes the sermon on the mount. It covers the same ethical issues, like lust (31:1,9-12), loving your neighbor (31:13-15), social justice (31:16-23), and idolatry (31:24-28). Then, God finally answers Job in chapter 38.

I made a note in Job 38:2-3, that says, “We shouldn’t think that God expected them to know what they couldn’t know, He wanted them to appreciate that there were aspects to the matter known to God but hidden to man. Those things made sense of things that don’t make sense.” Then my favorite chapter comes last. Job comes humbly before God in contentment with not knowing the answers to questions he has had about his situation. God then restores Job. My favorite quote from one of the commentaries I read says this,

“If we find it exasperating that God never gives Job any reason for his long ordeal of suffering, then we have entirely missed the point of these final chapters. While it is true that the Lord’s answer was neither logical nor theological, this is not the same as saying that he gives no answer. The Lord does give an answer. His answer is Himself.”

Which leads to the question, who is this man who praised God when all was lost? Who is this man who fell in prayer saying, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord,” (1:21)?  Who is this man who says, “as long as my breath is still in me and the breath from God remains in my nostrils, my lips will not speak unjustly,” (27:3-4)? Because in all honesty, I would doubt God’s love. I have had doubts over smaller things, let alone the loss of everything and everyone I love.

The book of Job doesn’t provide easy answers, but it does reveal truth: God is sovereign, and He is enough. Even in suffering, even in confusion, even when we don’t understand, He is still God, and He is still good. Job may not have received the answers he wanted, but he encountered God Himself, and that was more than enough. May we, too, find peace not in explanations, but in the presence of our Creator.

Have an amazing day!

Jayden Smith

Living the Mission

One of the local ministries that Grace supports, and one I have the joy of being part of, is Young Life (YL). Though YL is still relatively new to the Newton community, its history here runs deeper than many might realize. In the early 1910s, Jim Rayburn, the founder of Young Life, lived in Newton for most of his childhood.

At its core, Young Life is about building relationships with middle and high school students and introducing them to the gospel. The goal is for leaders to step into students’ lives, meet them where they are, and consistently show up for them, earning the right to be heard through relational connection.

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to attend a Leader Weekend with YL. To be honest, I wasn’t eager to go. I only knew one other person attending, and the thought of traveling far and feeling “alone” didn’t appeal to me. But I swallowed my pride, showed up, and quickly realized it was exactly what my heart needed.

Throughout the weekend, Justin McRoberts shared powerful messages about living a life modeled after Jesus. One point has stuck with me ever since:

"Nothing you do [in leading and serving others] is as important to God as who you are while doing it."

Ephesians 2:8-10 echoes this truth:

"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

Ministry and outreach are vital, but it’s easy to get caught up in the doing and forget the why. I’ve fallen into this trap time and time again, especially when ministry is part of my job.

McRoberts spoke about “living out the mission” through the story in Acts 8:26-38. In this passage, the Spirit tells Philip to take the road to Gaza, where he encounters an Ethiopian eunuch reading from Isaiah. Philip asks if he understands what he’s reading, to which the eunuch replies, “How can I unless someone guides me?” Philip takes the time to sit with him, explain the passage, and share the gospel. Moved by their conversation, the eunuch is baptized in a nearby body of water.

This story is powerful because Philip didn’t know where he was going, he simply obeyed when God said, “Get up and go south.” He followed when the Spirit said, “Go and join that chariot.” Often we are too quick to act when God is simply calling us to listen; first to Himself, then to those you want to love. As believers, we don’t grow the seeds, that’s God’s work. McRoberts’ final point resonated deeply: Philip was ‘on his way to…’ I know that if I focus too much on where I’m going, I risk seeing people as only a mission, and forget to love them as a person.

This is why I love Young Life. It’s a relational ministry where I get to be intentional about loving kids because God is so intentional about loving me. I invite you to add Newton Young Life to your prayer list and lift up the next generation of believers in prayer.

Blessings,

Jayden Smith

The Ultimate Gift

As a child, Christmas was a magical time filled with new toys, delicious food, and the excitement of gifts. It was one of the few days of the year, besides your birthday, when you could count on receiving presents. What wasn’t there to love about that? Christmas was simple then—fun, carefree, and full of excitement. It is sad that growing up usually means losing that childlike joy and seeing Christmas as a season of stress and tight funds. 

Growing up, I loved gifts. I knew that the meaning of Christmas was the day Jesus was born, however, I knew I would be receiving His birthday presents. I remember waking up at 6 or 7 years old, racing out of my room, eager to see what gifts awaited me. Every year, I received more than enough, but there was always one thing I longed for, a Barbie Dream House. I had enough dolls, clothes, and accessories to supply an army, but my Barbies remained homeless.

Then, one Christmas, as I was about to give up hope, I unwrapped my last gift. Beneath the wrapping paper, I spotted a pink box. My heart jumped, and I ran to my mom, grinning from ear to ear. That moment became the highlight of my childhood, nothing could compare to the joy I felt after waiting years for this gift.

A couple of years ago, it hit me that I might never feel that same level of excitement again. As I’ve reflected on Christmas this year, I’m reminded that the heart of the holiday goes far beyond presents. Making Advent posts on social media has been a way for me to pause and consider the deeper meanings of Christmas— hope, peace, joy, and love. And, as cliché as it may sound, I’ve realized that the greatest gift I’ve ever received was given to me long ago. The book of James reminds us, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows” (James 1:17). As a child, I might have disagreed, but now I understand that the birth of Jesus is far more than just the arrival of a baby, it is the ultimate gift.

This Christmas, I’ve found hope (Isaiah 25:9), knowing that the One Israel waited for came and fulfilled all He promised. That same hope fills me as I look forward to Him returning. I’ve found peace (Isaiah 9:6-7), knowing that the Prince of Peace will reign forever, bringing peace with no end. And I’ve found joy (John 3:16-17), knowing that God’s only Son came to be the ultimate sacrifice for me, and knowing that His Spirit is with us because of that sacrifice. Finally, I’ve been overwhelmed with love (Galatians 4:4-5), knowing that through Jesus’ birth, I’ve been adopted into God’s family. 

If I could be filled with so much joy from receiving a Barbie Dream House, how much greater is the joy I experience now, knowing that my Savior has come once and will come again?

Merry Christmas!

Jayden Smith

One Step at a Time

I used to consider myself a very patient person. I was calm and level-headed 90% of the time, never one to succumb to road rage. I was fine with waiting in long lines or being stuck in traffic—these things didn't faze me. For a while, I wore my patience like a badge of honor. Waiting three hours for a roller coaster? No problem. Sitting in traffic? I was just hanging out. I thought that the Spirit in me was radiating patience, until it felt like it wasn’t.

In April of 2023, I broke my ankle in three places and was told I wouldn’t be able to walk for 10-12 weeks. Inconveniently, in 15 weeks, I was taking kids to camp in Colorado, and in 16 weeks, I was moving to Georgia to work at a camp in the Appalachian Mountains. Suddenly, patience felt like a distant memory. I found myself consumed by frustration, anger, and fear about the future. Verses like 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 and Isaiah 30:18 seemed to mock me rather than comfort me.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 says,
"Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in everything; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus."

And Isaiah 30:18 says,
"Therefore the Lord is waiting to show you mercy,
and is rising up to show you compassion,
for the Lord is a just God.
All who wait patiently for Him are happy."

It was hard to imagine being happy, let alone patient, in the midst of such pain. Being forced to rely on others for everything made it even more difficult to “rejoice always”. But in hindsight, I believe God was trying to slow me down. I had been living at a fast pace, rarely stopping to notice His presence around me. Through this experience, I began to redefine patience. I realized that patience isn’t just about enduring for a few hours or days—it can also mean waiting for months, even seasons, with hope and trust. I learned to be patient with myself, too. I couldn't rush my healing process or force my body to recover faster. I had to wait, to accept where I was in the moment, and trust that God was using this time to shape me.

What once felt like a setback has, in fact, brought me closer to God. Through this journey, I’ve come to understand that patience isn’t just about waiting—it’s about trusting, learning, and growing, even in the hardest moments.

Have a blessed day :)

Jayden Smith