John and Kathy Deisher

One Call, One Harvest, 50 Teams

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Noticing God

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Let’s be real — life can feel like standing in the middle of a freeway. Everything’s moving fast, flashing, and demanding our attention. It’s 2025, and the noise of life isn’t slowing down anytime soon.

But here’s the thing: a meaningful life isn’t about keeping up with all the noise. It’s about slowing down long enough to notice what really matters — and staying present long enough to listen.

That’s why I want to talk about some old, unflashy, but deeply grounding practices often called spiritual disciplines. Things like prayer, reflection, rest, generosity, and honesty. They’re not boxes to check — they’re ways of creating space for what’s sacred.

Think of it this way: your inner life is like a garden. Growth takes time — joy, peace, hope, and love don’t just appear overnight. But every garden needs a structure to grow on. Without it, things sprawl everywhere. These simple practices are that structure — they give your life shape so that what’s good can grow.

Here are 3 simple ways to begin this week:

  • Pray Simply – Skip the formal words. Speak honestly, like you would to a close friend. Then pause and listen.
  • Read Slowly – Take a few lines from something that inspires you. Sit with them. Let the words follow you through the day.
  • Find Silence – Even five minutes counts. Turn off your phone. Let quiet do its healing work.

Let’s not just make it through 2025. Let’s move through it with intention — one step, one breath, one conversation at a time.

God at Work

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It’s surprising how often what we call “coincidences” are actually God at work. Not long ago, I came across my old daily planner from the early 1990s. When I opened to August, the pages were packed—every 15 minutes scheduled from morning to night. I had two young kids, no staff, and felt the pressure of trying to grow our student ministry. Back then, I believed the outcome rested on how hard I worked.

A few days later, while sorting through files, I found a paper I wrote in grad school. It was about Meister Eckhart, a 14th-century priest and mystic. He taught that people often get so busy doing things “for God” that they miss God Himself in the middle of it all. His advice was to slow down, expect God to be present, and actually look for Him in every moment. That reminder hit me again—He’s always at work, whether we see it or not.

Was it just chance that I found both of those things right as a new season begins? I don’t think so. Starting something new can be exciting and exhausting at the same time. I love meeting people, sharing stories, and seeing lives change. But the long hours, the heavy work, and the emotional ups and downs can make it hard to notice God in the middle of it. Yet the truth is—He’s there. Even in the ordinary, even in the messy, even in the moments that don’t go as planned.

So here’s the challenge: take a few pauses this month and look for God. Did something small go your way? He’s there. Did a plan fall through? He’s still there. Did you gain something? God’s in it. Did you lose something? He’s still in it. Even finding the best wings in town—yes, God can be in that, too.

He is present in all things. If we slow down and look, we will find Him.

A Wrath Full of Compassion

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“[God’s] wrath is a wrath of compassion.” (Martin Luther, Luther’s Works, 13:86).

“For we have been consumed by Your anger, and we have been terrified by Your wrath. You have placed our guilty deeds before You, our hidden sins in the light of Your presence. For all our days have dwindled away in Your fury; we have finished our years like a sigh. As for the days of our life, they contain seventy years, or if due to strength, eighty years, Yet their pride is only trouble and tragedy; for it quickly passes, and we disappear. Who understands the power of Your anger and Your fury, according to the fear that is due You? So teach us to number our days, that we may present to You a heart of wisdom.” (Psalm 90:7-12)

Psalm 90 isn’t the kind of passage we usually print on a coffee mug or hang on the wall. In fact, it is probably a Psalm we would rather skip over (you would be in good company; the Reformer Martin Luther was not a fan of this chapter).

My devotional reading this week took me to a Psalm where Moses (yes, that Moses) writes with raw honesty about God’s anger—how it consumes, how even our secret sins are fully exposed in His presence. It can feel weighty, especially in the middle of a busy ministry season, when we’re already carrying a lot.

But then there’s this quote from Martin Luther in his writings on Psalm 90: “[God’s] wrath is a wrath of compassion.”

Luther may not have liked the chapter, but he recognized its truth, and that truth stops you in your tracks.

God’s wrath isn’t like human anger. He’s not explosive or distant. His wrath comes from love. It’s His fierce resistance to what breaks us, wounds us, and distorts the truth. In that light, His discipline isn’t something we need to run from—it’s something we can actually lean into.

Moses does just that. He turns from lament to prayer: “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

Our days are full, and yet, they’re also limited. Short. Sacred.

God’s wrath here isn’t rejection—it’s a holy wake-up call. It’s compassion that calls us to live intentionally, humbly, wisely, so that we make the most of our days.

And don’t miss how the psalm starts: “Lord, you have been our dwelling place through all generations.”

Even in His correction, He remains our refuge. Even in His holiness, He is still our home.

Springtime

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Tree budding in the spring

Photo by Zoshua Colah on Unsplash

“I am the true grapevine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more. You have already been pruned and purified by the message I have given you. Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me. Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing. Anyone who does not remain in me is thrown away like a useless branch and withers. Such branches are gathered into a pile to be burned. But if you remain in me and my words remain in you, you may ask for anything you want, and it will be granted! When you produce much fruit, you are my true disciples. This brings great glory to my Father.” (John 15:1-8)

It may be Spring on the calendar, but no one told the weather. The last few days have been sunny, which gives you the illusion of warmth until you go outside and face the cold and wind.

I have been through seasons of life that felt the same. There was nothing outwardly that seemed to be wrong. There was no crisis, no gloomy clouds of doubt. But inwardly, I felt cold and blown by winds that I could not shake. In those times, it becomes easy to give in to introspection that questions everything. Just as you might question your plans on a cold, windy day, you find yourself searching for meaning in those seasons of spiritual winter. It is not despair, for we know that just as the cold of winter will pass into the new life of spring, our spiritual winter will birth a season of new life. But we struggle to make sense of such seasons.

I have learned to accept those seasons as a time for rumination and germination. It is a time to ask questions, but instead of forcing answers I allow those questions time to see what begins to grow and what withers away. Just as a gardener takes a seed and plants it in good soil, I plant my questions in the soil of a life having served a very faithful God. He knows His plans and purposes for me, and while I might feel like I am ready to take charge and be productive for the Kingdom, the Master Gardener knows that there are seasons of being hidden and germinating, becoming strong so that we can bear the pruning necessary to be productive in the next season.

The sun will shine, and the air will be warm and the winds refreshing, and what we have allowed God to do in our lives in those winter seasons will be rewarded with abundant fruit.

We Interrupt This Program…

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I turn 70 this year. Last year one of my daughters (who was preparing for her first marathon) suggested we run one together to celebrate my 70th birthday. I ran 3 marathons in my 20’s, so I knew what I was up against. Long story short, I said yes, and since that day I have been running again regularly in preparation for the marathon. I will co-opt this blog and chronicle my running journey as an ad hoc journal for a short time. I appreciate your understanding.

God Forms Us

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Photo by Emmanuel Phaeton on Unsplash

Sabbath is not primarily about us or how it benefits us. It is about God and how God forms us. It is not, in the first place, about what we do or don’t do. It’s about God completing and resting and blessing and sanctifying.

Eugene Peterson, “Living the resurrection”

Confronted by the Living God

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I read “The Way of the Pilgrim” this past fall and it really helped me see the importance of prayer as more than simply sending my requests to God. R.M. French, through his praying pilgrim, taught me how to pray always. Well, I still don’t pray always, but I pray more as I have developed the habit of having conversations with God. It is an act of faith, but one that reaps incredible rewards as you encounter the personal and living God. I highly recommend you read this book.

Living in the 21st Century

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“I believe there are three keys to cultivating a meaningful existence in the 21st century; they are: Embrace Weakness, Practice Renunciation and Be Known. First, in admitting weakness, we confess our need and come closer to one another. Second, is renunciation. In letting our yeses be yes and our noes be no, we form commitments, and in these limits we find our meaning and joy. Third, we must be known. We matter most to the people in our lives who truly know us, and, in honor, we must devote our lives to them. We do not discover who we are in a solitary state; we find it in mutual dependency, in learning through belonging.”

– Cristina Crook, “The Joy of Missing Out”