Joy, Prayer, and Thankfulness—Even When the Coffee Spills

Joy, Prayer, and Thankfulness—Even When the Coffee Spills
by Jimmie Aaron Kepler

This morning started like most do around here. I shuffled out back with a mug of hot coffee. It was light roast, of course. You guessed it, I watched the sun slowly stretch its arms over the fence line, reflect off the swimming pool’s water. The air had that early hush, just before the birds fully commit to their morning song. When the feral cats are looking at, placing their order for morning kibble in their food bowls and cool water in their bowls. That’s when this verse rolled across my heart like a warm breeze:

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” —1 Thessalonians 5:16–18

Now that’s a verse that’ll stop you mid-sip. It’s simple on the surface, but living it out? Well, that’s a tall order some days.

Truth is, it’s easy to rejoice when the sun’s shining, the car starts, and nothing’s aching too bad. But it takes grit—and a whole lot of grace—to rejoice when the coffee spills, the pool pump or heater starts leaking, the plans fall through, or the doctor’s news isn’t what you hoped for.

But that’s the beauty of it. This verse isn’t asking us to be happy all the time. It’s asking us to rejoice. And there’s a difference. Joy runs deeper than happy. It’s not about having a perfect day. It’s about anchoring your heart to the One who never changes, even when everything else feels wobbly.

Now praying continually might sound like you need to be on your knees all day, but I’ve learned it’s more like keeping a radio tuned in. I pray when I’m putting up laundry, sorting socks, or heading to the store. I talk to God while I’m walking the treadmill or waiting my turn for my allergy shot appointment. It’s less about formality and more about connection. More about just keeping that line open between me and the Lord.

And giving thanks in all circumstances? Whew. That one stretches me. I can thank Him for blue skies and fried catfish with hush puppies, no problem. But when things don’t go my way—well, that takes practice. Still, gratitude has this sneaky way of softening life’s rough edges. It helps you spot the good even when the bad tries to steal the spotlight.

So today, I’m choosing joy over grumbling. I’m whispering prayers while folding towels and pouring another cup of coffee. I’m giving thanks for what’s right, and trusting God with what ain’t.

If your day’s going smooth, rejoice in it. If it’s already gone sideways, give thanks anyway. And keep praying—He’s listening, even in the quiet.

Let’s be joy-bringers today, friends. This world’s got enough gloom. Let’s scatter a little light and live like we believe God’s still at work, even when the pieces don’t seem to fit.

Did you enjoy this article? You can find more of Jimmie Aaron Kepler’s books at Jimmie’s books available in paperback, ebook, audio, and large print

Cracking Open the Gate: A Reflection on Forgivenes

Cracking Open the Gate: A Reflection on Forgiveness
By: Jimmie Aaron Kepler

Forgiveness ain’t easy.

Some wounds settle in deep. They fester in the quiet places—wounds from words spoken in anger, trust broken, friendships faded into silence. And yet, holding on to that pain? That’s like drinking poison and hoping the other person gets sick.

Lately, I’ve found myself doing some soul work. Maybe it’s the season I’m in. Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s God. Or maybe it’s just time. I’ve felt a nudge, soft but steady, to try and fix what I can.

Truth is, some of the breaks in relationships over the years were my fault. I made poor choices. Let pride talk when I should’ve listened. Broke trust with folks I cared about. And I’ve been on the receiving end too—ghosted, betrayed, left out in the cold with no explanation. Sometimes folks walk away and never look back.

But here’s the thing: I’ve started reaching out. Owning my part. Saying the hard “I’m sorry” when needed. Offering olive branches even when I’m not sure they’ll be accepted. I’ve tried to patch up things that are years old—because peace matters more to me now than being right ever did.

More than once, I’ve leaned on the promise in 1 John 1:9:

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

So I start there—with God. I confess. I ask forgiveness. Then I work on forgiving myself. That’s sometimes the hardest part. And once that’s in motion, I circle back to the words that have been echoing in my heart:
Matthew 6:14-15

“If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

Those verses don’t say wait for perfect apologies. They don’t say keep score. They say forgive. Not just for their sake—but for your freedom. For your heart.

So maybe today’s the day to crack that old gate open just a little. Let some light in. Send a text. Write a note. Make a call. They might not respond. But your heart will breathe a little easier knowing you tried.

And that, my friend, is a kind of freedom no one can take from you.

Grace and Peace,
Jimmie

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A Word for the Faithful Caregivers: God Sees and Remembers

A Word for the Faithful Caregivers: God Sees and Remembers
By Jimmie Aaron Kepler

This Scripture hit home today—Hebrews 6:10–12 (NLT):

“For God is not unjust. He will not forget how hard you have worked for him and how you have shown your love to him by caring for other believers, as you still do. Our great desire is that you will keep on loving others as long as life lasts, in order to make certain that what you hope for will come true. Then you will not become spiritually dull and indifferent. Instead, you will follow the example of those who are going to inherit God’s promises because of their faith and endurance.”

I can’t read those words without thinking about the people I know—dear friends and family—who have walked the long, quiet road of caregiving. Some of you have cared for or are currently caring for spouses through long illnesses. Some have been the steady hand for aging parents, managing everything from medications to memories. And others have stepped in for siblings—those who couldn’t or wouldn’t care for themselves. You didn’t turn away. You leaned in with love.

I’ve seen it in your faces. I’ve seen the weariness in your eyes, the lines drawn from too many sleepless nights and hard decisions. But I’ve also seen something deeper—a well of love that keeps refilling, a quiet strength that keeps showing up, day after day.

God sees it too. He hasn’t forgotten a single act of love. Not one late-night vigil. Not one tender word or meal prepared. Not one moment you whispered a prayer over a loved one who was too tired or too confused to pray for themselves.

Your love reflects His love.

Today, I’m remembering my late wife Benita and her sisters. Their mother would have turned 102 years old today. What a life she lived, and what a legacy of love she left behind. 

In my mother-in-law’s final years, Miss Benita and her sisters took such tender care of their mama. They honored her with time, compassion, and dignity. 

And when cancer came for Benita, her sisters stood beside her just as faithfully. They loved her through every stage of that cruel journey, going far beyond what was expected. They gave everything they had, and then gave a little more.

This is the kind of caregiving the world often overlooks—but heaven does not. God calls it holy. And He promises that your labor in love is never wasted.

So if you’re tired today, wondering if anyone notices what you do behind closed doors, let me remind you: 

God notices. 

Your faith and endurance are part of a much bigger story. You’re walking in the footsteps of saints.

Don’t give up. Keep loving, keep serving, and keep believing. Because you’re not just caring for others—you’re showing the heart of God.

May He bless you for sharing and caring. Your reward is coming.

Grace and Peace,
Jimmie
Written 7/27

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When the Storm Rolls In

When the Storm Rolls In
By Jimmie Aaron Kepler

Years ago, back when my legs were still short enough to dangle off the edge of the porch swing and the world still held so many mysteries, I remember one night that’s stayed with me all these years. I was five, maybe six, and we were living out in Glendale, Arizona. It was monsoon season, but I didn’t know what that meant yet.

You see, rain was rare in the desert. Most days were all sun and dust, blue skies and cactus shadows. So when the sky turned dark that afternoon and the wind picked up, I didn’t know what was happening. Then came the storm. It was fast, wild, and loud. Rain hammered the rooftop like it had something to prove. Lightning cracked across the sky like a whip, and thunder followed so close it shook the walls. I thought the world might be ending.

Terrified, I ran to the front porch where Daddy sat in his chair, watching the weather. Without a word, I crawled into his lap, trembling like a wet pup. He set his paper aside, wrapped his big arms around me, and whispered, “I’m right here, Jim. You’re safe. I’m protecting you.” I remember my little brother quickly joining me in dad’s lap.

And just like that, I believed him. The storm still roared outside, but the fear inside me settled. My daddy was near. That made all the difference.

That memory comes rushing back every time I read Psalm 27:1:

“The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” 

What comfort, what strength in those words.

Life throws its share of storms at us, some loud and obvious, others quiet and slow-burning. A troubling diagnosis, a tough goodbye, a long season of waiting. Whatever your storm looks like today, remember this: God hasn’t gone anywhere.

Just like my father in that Arizona monsoon, our Heavenly Father wraps us up and whispers, “I’ve got you.” He’s the light when things get dark. The shelter when the winds howl. The stronghold that doesn’t budge.

So take heart. Whether your sky is clear or stormy, you’re not alone. Crawl into His arms and rest easy. He’s right there.

Peace and Grace,
Jimmie

Done in Love

Done in Love
Jimmie Aaron Kepler

I’ve been thinking on this verse today:

“Let all that you do be done in love.” – 1 Corinthians 16:14 (ESV)

Now, that’s a short verse—but it’s mighty. And it stirred up a memory or two this morning while I sipped my coffee and looked out the kitchen window.

I couldn’t help but think of my grandma. She had this quiet, almost sacred way of hanging clothes out on the old wire line in the backyard. Every towel, every sock, every undershirt was handled with such care, like it mattered more than just being clean. She’d clip each piece with a wooden pin, smooth it out with her hands, and step back with a kind of pride you’d expect from someone painting a masterpiece.

And my granddad? He was a different kind of preacher. Not from the pulpit, but with his life. He’d wave at every neighbor driving by like they were long-lost cousins. Called folks by name. Always had time for a chat at the fence line or on the porch. He didn’t try to be impressive. He just showed up for people. And that was enough.

Truth is, most love in this world doesn’t wear a spotlight. Sometimes it’s just sitting at the kitchen table, sharing a pot of coffee and listening, really listening, to someone’s hopes, dreams, and hurts. It’s not fixing. It’s not rushing. It’s just being there, heart open and ears tuned in. It’s nodding at the right time, keeping quiet when needed, and holding space when there’s nothing else to give.

We don’t have to be famous or flashy. We don’t need big platforms or loud voices. What we need is to show up with love stitched into the seams of our everyday living. Folding laundry. Walking the dog. Checking on that neighbor who’s been a little quiet lately.

And here’s something I try to remind myself: be a good finder. The world’s full of folks pointing out what’s wrong. Be someone who looks for the good in everyone. Call it out. Cheer it on. It costs nothing, and yet it’s worth everything.

Love your neighbors and your friends like you’d like to be loved. Not just when it’s easy or convenient. But all the time. With grace. With kindness. With heart.

That’s the kind of love that lingers. The kind that changes families, neighborhoods, even generations.

So whatever you’ve got on your list today, big tasks or small, do it with love. And see what happens.

Blessings on your day,
Jimmie

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More Than the Sand

This morning, as I walked along the shoreline, I paused to watch the waves stretch and retreat, leaving behind a glistening trail of foam. My feet sank gently into the damp sand with each step. I looked back and saw my footprints—temporary, already fading with the next breath of tide.

That’s when the verse came to mind. Psalm 139:17–18 (KJV):

“How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand: when I awake, I am still with thee.”

Sand. There it was, clinging to my toes and scattered endlessly in every direction. I tried to scoop some up—just a handful—and watched as grains trickled through my fingers. I couldn’t begin to count even those, much less what lay beneath my feet and beyond my sight.

And yet, Scripture tells me that God’s thoughts toward me—toward *you*—outnumber every grain. Not only are His thoughts plentiful, they are *precious*. Cherished. Intentional. Full of love and care.

It’s easy, especially in today’s world, to feel small. Overlooked. Buried beneath responsibilities, distractions, and noise. But this truth reminds me that we are never forgotten. Never ignored. God’s gaze never wavers. His presence doesn’t clock out when the sun sets or when we drift into sleep.

“When I awake, I am still with thee.”

That line hits deep. It’s not just that He’s watching over us. It’s that He remains faithfully, patiently with us through every hour, every season, every storm. We are still with Him. We don’t have to strive or perform to stay in His favor. We simply need to remember who we belong to and how deeply we are known.

So here I am. Enjoying vacation, walking along the coast, breathing in salt air, listening to the hush of the waves, and feeling held by something far greater than the sea. The sand beneath my feet speaks of God’s immeasurable love. Each grain a reminder that I am seen, treasured, and never alone.

And friend, so are you.

Grace and peace,
Jimmie

Did you enjoy this article? You can find more of Jimmie Aaron Kepler’s books at Jimmie’s books available in paperback, ebook, audio, and large print

Refreshed by Giving: The Quiet Power of Generosity

Refreshed by Giving: The Quiet Power of Generosity
Jimmie Aaron Kepler

Some Bible verses settle down into your soul and stay a while. Proverbs 11:25 is like that for me:

“A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.”                Proverbs 11:25 (NIV)

It’s plainspoken wisdom, but don’t mistake it for simple. Like a soft rain falling on dry West Texas soil, it seeps into the cracks of this worn, hurried, me-first world of ours.

I think back to my wife’s kitchen during those early years of our marriage, the first fifteen years or so. We were young and just starting out. No stock portfolio or retirement plan back then. No second home. Not even a second car for the first several years. But that didn’t stop her from giving. If someone came by needing a bite to eat, they left with a full plate and often a mason jar of sweet tea to take with them. She gave freely, joyfully. Oh, she might have them to rake a few leaves or clean the outside windows to help them keep their dignity, but she met their needs with respect and love.

We weren’t wealthy by any stretch, but somehow, that little house always felt like it overflowed. Looking back, I see it now. That was abundance.

Fast forward over four decades. My wife was terminally ill with melanoma. In those last days, even in home hospice care, she was still sending handwritten notes of encouragement to others. I can still hear her voice, frail but full of purpose: “Mail these for me. They need to know someone remembers them. They’re going through tough times too. They’ve got it worse than me.” When I looked confused, she added, “I’ve got you, family, and a home in heaven waiting. Mamma, daddy, Willie, and Aunt Mary are waiting to show me around. I’m sure they know I’m coming home soon. They’re as excited to see me as I am to get there to see them again.”

That’s what loving people looks like. That’s what refreshing others looks like.

See, generosity has this strange way of multiplying as it moves. A kind word shared. A hot meal during a cold spell. A phone call to check in on someone who’s been on your heart. These aren’t grand gestures. They’re seeds. And seeds? Well, they grow.

And over those long three and a half years of cancer treatments, our family, our friends, and our Bible fellowship class loved on us. They poured back into us. Meals delivered. Prayers spoken. Hands held. Hugs given. I don’t think they even realized how much they refreshed our weary spirits. But they did. God used them to meet needs we didn’t even know how to ask for. And they did this for weeks, months, and through several treatments and surgeries over that three-year period.

Again, that’s what loving people looks like. That’s what refreshing others looks like.

That’s the beauty hidden in this little proverb. When you give of your time, your presence, your encouragement you get something in return. Not because you’re keeping score, but because that’s just how God’s economy works. It opens the clenched fist of fear and scarcity and invites joy to come on in.

Have you ever walked away from helping someone and realized your own heart felt lighter? That’s not an accident. That’s the divine echo of “whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.”

Opportunities are everywhere if we slow down enough to see them. Maybe it’s helping your neighbor get their trash can to the curb. Maybe it’s sitting with a friend who doesn’t need fixing, just someone to listen. Or maybe it’s offering to mow the lawn for the single woman next door who’s caring for her aging daddy.

None of it has to be part of a grand plan. Just eyes to see and a heart willing to move.

Because generosity? It isn’t always about giving money. Most of the time, it’s about showing up. And when we make a habit of showing up for others, we often find ourselves standing knee-deep in blessing.

So today, go water someone’s garden. Speak life into dry places. Pour out a little hope where despair has pooled. And trust, really trust, that as you refresh others, your own soul will be filled.

In the end, you just might discover that giving is the very thing that fills you up the most. And the parched feeling in your soul? It’ll be refreshed.

Grace and peace,
Jimmie

Did you enjoy this article? You can find more of Jimmie Aaron Kepler’s books at Jimmie’s books available in paperback, ebook, audio, and large print

Treating Folks Right: What Leviticus Taught Me About Leadership

Treating Folks Right: What Leviticus Taught Me About Leadership
Jimmie Aaron Kepler

You’d be surprised what a couple of verses tucked away in Leviticus can teach you about leading people.

“When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them.
The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born.
Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt.
I am the Lord your God.”
— Leviticus 19:33–34 (NIV)

I didn’t expect a leadership lesson when I opened Leviticus. But those words hit me square in the heart.

The New Kid (Again and Again)

I grew up in a military family. That meant moving, often. Too often.  By the time I graduated high school, I’d been the new kid in town and school seven different times. Seven.

Walking into classrooms where everyone already knew the unspoken rules? That wasn’t easy. You sit in the back. There’s a social order in place and outsiders generally aren’t welcome. Eat lunch alone. Hope someone smiles. Hope someone invites you in.

And when they do? You never forget.

A Principle, Not Just a Policy

In today’s world, we hear a lot about inclusion and diversity. But Leviticus reminds us that God’s call goes deeper than policy. It’s personal.

Whether you’re leading a team or welcoming someone into your Sunday school class, this ancient command is still relevant: Love them as yourself.

Inclusion isn’t about checking a box. It’s about seeing people, really seeing them, and making room in your world for them.

Love in a Work Shirt

Love doesn’t always look like poetry. Sometimes it looks like listening, showing up, inviting someone to sit with you at lunch, or just taking time to learn someone’s story.

That’s the kind of love Leviticus 19:34 is calling for.

So today, look around. Someone nearby may be feeling like the outsider, the new kid, the one who’s unsure. You might just be the person God’s asking to make them feel welcome.

Grace and peace,
Jimmie

Did you enjoy this article? You can find more of Jimmie Aaron Kepler’s books at Jimmie’s books available in paperback, ebook, audio, and large print