Where Greed Hides

We’ve been talking about the spiritual disciplines at church.
Last week, the conversation was about generosity.
This week, it was about greed.

And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how the two aren’t always as separate as we like to think.

Because greed doesn’t always look like hoarding money or climbing some corporate ladder.
Sometimes it looks like holding back in quieter ways —
the kind we justify.

Like struggling to give our time.
Or hesitating to offer encouragement.
Or keeping our prayers to ourselves because we don’t want to say the wrong thing.

We tell ourselves it’s not greed.
It’s busyness.
Or insecurity.
Or boundaries.

But what if it’s more than that?
What if greed is anything that keeps us from living open-handed —
with our time, our words, our presence, our resources?

I’m realizing that greed hides in the small things.
In the moments when I pull back instead of lean in.
When I protect my own comfort instead of offering someone else mine.
When I talk myself out of giving because I don’t have “enough” — time, energy, words, wisdom.

But the truth is, if God asked me to give it,
He’s already given me enough to do it.

So maybe the better question isn’t “Am I generous?”
Maybe it’s: Where am I still holding back?
And why?


“Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.”
— 2 Corinthians 9:7 (NIV)

Everybody Stop

Do you ever want to find a really big hill,
take a deep breath in,
and scream out,

“EVERYBODY STOP!”

Like you’re constantly getting hit from all angles
and you’ve just had it?

I get it.
And if I’m honest,
I wish I didn’t.

But here I am.
On the top of my hill.
Screaming at the top of my lungs:
“Everybody stop!!”

Because I’m just so tired.
Aren’t you?

“From the ends of the earth I call to you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”

— Psalm 61:2 (NIV)

Search Me


“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.”
Psalm 139:23 (NIV)


There’s something deeply vulnerable about that verse.

It’s not a request to be fixed.
It’s a willingness to be seen.
Fully. Quietly. Honestly.

Not the version of us we present to others.
Not the strong, put-together, always-trusting self.
But the anxious thoughts.
The fragile heart.
The unspoken questions that don’t make it into the prayer journal.

“Search me,” David prayed.
Not because God didn’t already know,
but because he needed to know he was still safe being seen.


Some days, I pray like that too.
Not for answers. Not even for peace.
Just for God to find me where I really am.

Not where I should be by now.
Not where I pretend to be on paper.
Just… here.

In the moments where my heart still holds questions I haven’t found words for yet.


If that’s where you are today,
you don’t have to clean it up to invite Him in.

He already knows.
He’s already there.

And sometimes the bravest prayer you can pray
is simply this:

“God, search me. Stay with me.
And don’t let me hide from You.”

Maybe This Is the Post

I didn’t plan a post tonight.
I didn’t come with a title or a theme or a tidy truth to wrap everything together.

I sat down to write —
and nothing came.
Just a tired kind of quiet,
the kind that doesn’t ask to be explained.

But maybe this is the post.
The one that doesn’t offer clarity or closure,
but simply shows up.

Maybe this is the kind of honesty we all need sometimes —
to admit we don’t always have the words,
or the answers,
or the strength to keep unpacking what still hurts.

Maybe the miracle isn’t always in what we say.
Maybe it’s in the showing up anyway.
In being present to the moment — even when the moment feels like not enough.
Even when you feel like not enough.

And maybe
this is the kind of space
where we quietly remember
that even when the words won’t come,
He still does.

That He doesn’t need eloquence
to meet us.

He just needs us.

So if you’ve arrived here —
empty-handed, weary, unsure of what you’re even looking for —
you’re not alone.

Let’s sit here for a while.
Not searching for the right thing to say.
Just resting in the comfort that we’re seen anyway.

“…for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.”
— Matthew 6:8