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May 6, 2026 • 7 Minute Read
The 23rd Psalm – Words For The Valley
Weekly Devotional – March 19, 2026 "Words For The Valley: A Journey Through Psalm 23" Before You Begin Find a quiet place if you can. Put your phone face down. Take three slow breaths. This devotional is not meant to be rushed – it's meant to be inhabited. Read it the way you'd walk a familiar path you haven't taken in a while: slowly, noticing what's changed in you since the last time you were here. Psalm 23 is probably the most recognized passage in all of Scripture. Most of us have heard it at funerals. Many of us learned it as children. And precisely because it is so familiar, it can slide past us without landing. Our goal this week is to read it slowly enough that it surprises us again. Read the Psalm Aloud The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil.
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. A Word to Open David wrote this psalm. The same David who killed a giant, committed adultery, ordered a man's death, and wept so hard over his son that the Bible says the ground was wet. David was not a man who wrote about God from a comfortable distance. He wrote from inside the mess of a full human life. That matters for how we read this. Psalm 23 is not a greeting card. It is a battle-tested testimony from a man who had learned - slowly, painfully, joyfully - that God could be trusted. Every line is earned. Moving Through the Psalm "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want." Notice that David doesn’t say "The Lord is a shepherd" or "The Lord is the shepherd." He says my shepherd. This is personal. This is a claim. Sheep don't belong to shepherds in the abstract, they belong to a specific one who knows their name, knows their tendencies, knows which ones wander. Pause and ask yourself: Do I relate to God as my shepherd, or as a shepherd in general – present for everyone but perhaps not particularly attentive to me? The promise that follows - I shall not want - is not a promise of abundance in the way we sometimes read it. It is a promise of sufficiency. The sheep under a good shepherd's care lack nothing they truly need. Not nothing they want. Nothing they need. That is a different and deeper promise. "He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters." A shepherd has to make sheep lie down. Sheep are anxious animals. They will graze past the point of exhaustion if not guided to rest. The green pastures and still waters are not accidental. They are chosen by someone who knows that rest is not weakness. Rest is part of the plan. How often do we resist the places God leads us to rest? How often do we mistake stillness for inactivity, or quietness for being left behind? Spend a moment in this image. Where are your green pastures right now? Where is God trying to lead you to still water, and are you following, or are you still grazing? "He restores my soul." The Hebrew word here - nephesh - is sometimes translated as soul, but it means something closer to the whole self. Your inner life. Your sense of self. Your aliveness. He restores my aliveness. This is a pastoral word for exhausted people. And if you are here in this prayer group on a Thursday morning, there is a reasonable chance that life has taken something from you recently. Grief, disappointment, overwork, worry, loss. The promise of this line is not that God will prevent the depletion. It is that he is in the business of restoration. He gives back what life takes. Pray this line over yourself today: Lord, restore my soul. Say it slowly. Say it more than once. "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me." This is the hinge of the psalm. Everything before it is pastoral and gentle. Here, the landscape changes. The valley is real. The shadow is real. David does not pretend it isn't. But notice the grammar: I will fear no evil. Not I do not feel afraid. Not the valley isn't dark. The commitment to not fear is an act of the will, grounded not in circumstances but in presence. For you are with me. That's the whole reason. Not because the valley is safe. Because he is there. This is the verse for whoever in our prayer group is in a hard place right now. You don't have to pretend the valley isn't dark. You only have to remember you are not walking through it alone. "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies." This image has always struck me as almost defiant. God does not remove the enemies before sitting David down to eat. He sets the table anyway. In the middle of opposition, in the middle of threat, there is a feast. There is provision and dignity that the enemies cannot touch. Whatever is pressing in on you right now - fear, opposition, uncertainty, a relationship that's causing pain - God is not waiting for it to resolve before he feeds you. The table is already set. What would it look like to receive God's provision today, even in the middle of what's hard? "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life." The word translated follow here is closer in the Hebrew to pursue – even chase. Goodness and mercy are not timidly trailing behind us. They are in pursuit. All the days of my life. Not just the good ones. Not just the ones where I feel worthy of being followed. This is grace at its most relentless. We do not have to earn God's goodness chasing us down. We only have to stop running from it. Closing Prayer Father, you are our shepherd. We confess that we often act like sheep who think they know better – wandering past the green pastures, resisting the still water, grazing until we are empty. Restore our souls today. Lead us through whatever valley we are walking through and remind us that your presence is the point, not the absence of the valley itself. Set a table for us in the middle of our hard places. And let us feel, even today, the goodness and mercy that is chasing us down. We are yours. Amen. For Further Reflection This Week Read Psalm 23 once each morning this week – slowly, one verse at a time. Journal on this question: Which line of this psalm do I need most right now, and why? Pray the psalm over someone in your life who is in a dark valley, and speak their name into each verse. Our Thursday Morning Prayer Group meets weekly at 7:00 AM in The Prayer Room, Building B. All are welcome.Share Your Prayer Request
May 6, 2026 • 10 Minute Read
God's Plan For Your Messy Family
Nobody has a perfect family. We know that. But there's a difference between knowing it and feeling it, especially on holidays designed to celebrate what yours was supposed to look like. You scroll through social media and see curated perfection. You sit at the dinner table and feel the weight of everything that was never said. And somewhere in the back of your mind, a question lingers: What do you do when your family is broken and the culture keeps pretending perfection is the goal? Here's the truth that changes everything: God is not looking for perfect families. He's looking for purpose-filled families. And the distance between those two realities is where healing begins. The Family Was Always the Plan From the very beginning, God designed the family as the primary environment for growth, identity, and belonging. Genesis 1:28 records that after creating humanity, God blessed them and said, "Be fruitful and increase in number, fill the earth." Family was not an afterthought. It was the mechanism. And this isn't just a theological claim. Neuroscience and psychology continue to confirm what Scripture has always taught. People who grow up in healthy family environments are less likely to struggle with substance abuse, have lower incarceration rates, experience greater relational satisfaction, and demonstrate stronger emotional resilience. If that feels discouraging because your family wasn't healthy, stay with this. The same Bible that affirms the power of family also tells the unfiltered truth about how messy families really are. Four Generations of Dysfunction Genesis chapters 30 through 40 trace four generations of one family: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph. And if you read their stories, you'll find yourself thinking, "This is really messed up." It is. The Bible doesn't sugarcoat it. It doesn't put its heroes in stained glass. It exposes the brokenness we all recognize. Adam blames Eve. Cain kills Abel. Abraham sleeps with his wife's servant. Isaac favors one son over the other, breeding rivalry and competition. Jacob, whose very name means "deceiver," lives up to it. And Joseph, at the end of the family line, is sold into slavery by his own brothers. Through these four generations, the patterns repeat: favoritism, deception, rivalry, manipulation, passive-aggressive behavior, distorted intimacy. Sin doesn't just separate humanity from God; it fractures families, turning intimacy into blame, siblings into rivals, and homes into battlegrounds. The cycle doesn't break until Joseph. And what Joseph did to reverse the curse his family passed down is the blueprint for every one of us still carrying the weight of what was handed to us. When Your Family Has Failed You, God Has Not Abandoned You The most remarkable thread running through Genesis is this: God's love is not dependent on your family's dysfunction. God made a promise, and no amount of generational brokenness could nullify it. Abraham failed. God was still with him. Jacob was a deceiver. God was still with him. Hagar was cast into the desert by the very people who used her. God showed up and said, "I am with you." Joseph was betrayed, enslaved, falsely accused, and thrown into prison. God showed up and said, "I'm still with you." Your family background may explain who you are, but it does not have to define who you become. When you read the genealogies in Genesis, name upon name, generation upon generation, God's faithful, loving covenant remains. When God makes a promise, not even your family's dysfunction can rob you of it if you lean into it. God even changed the names of these patriarchs to reflect His transforming work. Abram, meaning "father," became Abraham, "the father of many nations." Jacob, "the deceiver," became Israel, "one who wrestles with God." When you let God do His work, He transforms what looks broken into something beautiful. The Soil of Your Heart Think of it like gardening. If the soil of your life has been deeply compacted by the weight of what happened to you, if it's been stripped of nutrients because no one ever told you "I love you" or "you matter," if toxins have been poured in through words that poisoned your heart, then no wonder nothing grows. Maybe you've been trying to grow really good things. You want to be a good parent, a good provider. You want to show up when it matters. But the soil has been hardened by circumstances you didn't choose. The good news is that God is the great Gardener. If you let Him, He'll begin to till the soil again, softening it so that air and nutrients can be poured in, so that light can penetrate the dark places, and good fruit can grow. The Crucible That Refines You Joseph's story reads like a crucible. A crucible is a container that withstands intense heat. You place raw ore inside it, ore covered in debris, dirt, and impurities. As the heat rises, everything melts. The pure metal sinks to the bottom while the impurities rise to the surface. A skilled refiner scrapes away everything that doesn't belong until only the pure design remains. You and I were created in the image of God. The circumstances of life may feel like they've buried that image. But God uses the crucible of experience not to destroy you, but to refine you. The heat turns up not to break you, but to reveal who you were always created to be. If you skip the process, you get a weakened version. It might look like gold on the surface, but under pressure, it crumbles. Joseph grew up in an environment of survival of the fittest. But he chose generosity. He grew up surrounded by rivalry and pain. But he chose forgiveness. When he stood before the brothers who had sold him into slavery, now the second most powerful man in Egypt, he had the opportunity to continue the family curse or break it. And he looked at them and said, "What you intended for harm, God intended for good." Healing Must Interrupt What Dysfunction Repeats The patterns in Genesis are unmistakable. A father favors one son. Rivalry erupts. Deception follows. Manipulation takes root. And then the next generation inherits it all. The question every generation faces is the same: Will I repeat the pattern that was passed on to me, or will I, with God's help, break it? No matter your family background, there are things that happened to you that should have never happened. But if you let God heal you, He can transform it. That's the story of Joseph, and it can be yours, too. As you look at your own family experience, consider: What did your family teach you about conflict? About love? About generosity? These things may explain who you are, but they don't have to define you. And the harder question, especially for parents and grandparents: What patterns am I carrying forward, and where might God be inviting healing? When my wife and I were first married, we had to work through a lot of crucible experiences. We dealt with conflict in completely different ways. My way of dealing with conflict is to say it straight up. You're not going to have to guess what I'm feeling or thinking. Hers was the opposite. She saw conflict as something negative to be avoided. You can imagine how well that went until we made a decision: How are we going to define, as a family, how we deal with confrontation? How are we going to handle generosity and parenting? We had very different ideas, and we had to work through them with God's help to create a new way forward. How to Build a Healthy Family Today If you recognize these patterns and you want something different, here's what I've learned practically in my own life about becoming the parent and family member God has called me to be. Choose Presence Over Perfection Your kids don't need you to be perfect. They need you to be present. It's in being present that the beautiful transformation takes place. You can't script it or plan it. You're just there. When my kids started playing sports, I made a commitment to coach them. Not to be overbearing, but so we could experience everything together. Dance recitals, awards, birthdays. Sometimes it was around a dinner table where we chose to be present, no phones, looking at each other, talking about things we maybe didn't want to talk about. Sometimes it was at bedtime when we would just pray, not out of religious obligation, but out of inviting the presence of God into that moment. "Train up a child in the way that they should go" (Proverbs 22:6). It's embedded into what family is. You don't have to be perfect. You just have to be there. Speak Blessing Instead of Cursing Many of you know the pain of words that were spoken over you. You're dumb. You're ugly. You'll never amount to anything. You're worthless. When those words are spoken into a child's life, they plant seeds that harden the soil. It is never justified to curse your children. Never. Instead, learn to speak blessing. Maybe you'll be the first one in your family line who actually expresses "I love you" on a regular basis, not because someone earned it, but just because. Maybe you'll be the first to speak truth that isn't visible yet: "I see something in you that you don't see in yourself. You are worthy. You are loved. You matter." If you don't know what to say, read the promises of God over them. You are a child of the living God. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. God has a plan and a purpose for your life. When you begin to speak life instead of death, it will break a curse. Practice Repentance and Forgiveness Some of you might need to stand in front of a mirror and say the words: "I was wrong." That is not weakness. That is breaking a curse. I do this now as a grandfather. My grandkids call me Papa. And sometimes I'll say, "Papa shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry." You're modeling something. You're breaking something. You're building something. Invite God Into Everyday Life It doesn't have to be weird. Just begin to talk about what God is doing in you and how you're trying. That was maybe the greatest gift my family gave me growing up. They invited God into most everything we did. And inviting God into everyday life begins to shape and form the people around you. You Don't Have to Come From a Healthy Family to Create One You don't control what happened to you, but you do choose how you see it. And that choice shapes everything that follows. In a world that's increasingly lonely, where abandonment and rejection are common experiences, we need to fight for each other. We need to create spaces of belonging, not spaces where you have to think a certain way or behave a certain way before you're welcomed in. You belong because you were created in the image of God. Jesus said, "They will know you are my disciples by how you love one another" (John 13:35). No one has ever been won over by a slick argument. But people have been transformed because someone chose to love them. Today could be the day of transformation. The day you decide, with God's help, to believe that He is present with you and that you will be present with your family. You can't fix what's broken on your own. Only God can do that. But you can keep showing up, keep loving, keep speaking blessing, and keep inviting God into that space. You are loved. You belong. Your family story, however broken or beautiful, is not beyond God's redemptive grace. And with His help, you can create a different kind of family, one marked by presence and blessing, repentance and forgiveness, belonging and hope.
May 6, 2026 • 7 Minute Read
Updates From The Field
Life Abundant LA – Missionary Update 🌍 Our third update from the Miller family who are currently serving in Nairobi, Kenya. A Note From the Millers
From Brad, Jess, and the kids – Caleb (14), Audrey (11), and Noah (7) Hi Life Abundant family, We're writing this from the kitchen table of the small guesthouse we've been calling home for the past three weeks, with the sound of the neighborhood coming through the open window – a rooster that has absolutely no concept of appropriate timing, kids playing in the road outside, and somewhere in the distance, what we're pretty sure is someone's worship music drifting over the rooftops. It already feels normal in a way that still surprises us. Nairobi has a way of getting into you fast. We want to start by saying thank you. The messages, the voice notes, the emails from the kids' classmates back home – we read every single one. On the hard days, and there have been a few, they have meant more than we can say. You are with us on this trip in ways you might not fully realize. What We've Been Doing The first two weeks were a lot of orientation, relationship-building, and honestly, adjustment. Anyone who tells you there's no culture shock is either lying or has been here so many times they've forgotten what the first week feels like. We were tired in a way that went beyond jet lag. The food, the traffic, the pace, the weight of what we'd come to do all landed at once. But week three has felt like a turning point. We are spending the majority of our time partnering with Hope Community Kenya in the Mathare Valley neighborhood, the same community many of you helped support through last year's Global Missions offering. Walking into that newly completed classroom block for the first time and knowing that Life Abundant LA's generosity built those walls – we didn't have words. Jess cried. Brad pretended not to. Caleb took about forty photos. The classrooms are bright and clean and full of children who show up every morning with a seriousness about learning that has put our own kids to shame in the best possible way. We've been helping lead an after-school literacy program three afternoons a week, working alongside local teachers and community volunteers. The curriculum is simple but the impact is not. Many of these kids are the first in their families to read fluently in English. Watching that click into place for a child is one of those things you don't forget.Support Our Trip Stories From the Week A boy named Samuel. He is eight years old and has the most focused pair of eyes we have ever seen on a child. For the first week, he sat at the back of the literacy group and barely spoke. Our team leader, a remarkable woman named Faith Wanjiku, quietly told us: "Give him time. He is watching to see if you will stay." This week Samuel moved to the front row. On Thursday he read an entire short story aloud to the group without stopping. When he finished, he looked up and his expression was almost confused – like he hadn't been sure until that moment that he could do it. The room erupted. Faith caught our eye from across the room and smiled like she'd known all along. We think about Samuel a lot when we pray at night. Noah's adjustment. Our youngest has had the biggest journey of the three kids. The first week he was homesick in a way that broke our hearts a little, asking every night when we were going home, missing his friends, missing his bed. We prayed with him and held him and were honest that it was okay to feel all of it. By the end of week two, something shifted. He started kicking a soccer ball around with some of the neighborhood kids after the literacy program each afternoon. Language was not really the barrier we thought it would be. Seven-year-olds, it turns out, have their own universal dialect. This week he asked us if we could stay longer. We didn't see that coming. A conversation with Pastor Joseph. Our primary partner at Hope Community is Pastor Joseph Kamau – a man who has been serving Mathare Valley for twenty-three years with a quiet, unshakeable faithfulness that makes us feel like we have a lot of growing up to do. We sat with him for two hours on Tuesday evening over chai and he told us the history of the neighborhood. The hard years, the slow years, the years when it felt like nothing was moving. "I never stopped," he said simply. "I don't know how to explain it except that God made it impossible for me to stop." We came to Kenya thinking we had something to offer. We are finding, more and more, that we are the ones being given to. What's Ahead Weeks four and five will take us into a new phase of the partnership. We'll be helping facilitate a two-day leadership training for youth group leaders from five different churches in the Mathare area. Jess will be leading two sessions on trauma-informed care in ministry, drawing on her background as a school counselor. Brad will be co-leading a session on sustainable community development with Pastor Joseph. Caleb has asked if he can give a short talk to the youth group leaders about what it's like to grow up in church as a teenager. We said yes before he could change his mind. We'd love your specific prayer over these days. We want to show up as learners as much as teachers. How to Pray For Us This Week 🙏 Samuel and the other children in the literacy program – for continued breakthrough, for confidence, for every door that learning to read will open for them. 🙏 The upcoming leadership training – for the right words, the right spirit, and genuine connection with the leaders who attend. 🙏 Jess's health – she's been fighting a stubborn head cold all week. Nothing serious, but she's running on less than full capacity and could use some prayer and vitamin C. 🙏 Pastor Joseph and Faith Wanjiku – that they would feel honored and not overwhelmed by our presence, and that this partnership would leave something lasting behind when we go. 🙏 Our kids – that whatever they are seeing and experiencing here would shape them for the rest of their lives in ways we can't yet predict. 🙏 Our hearts – honestly, pray that we don't come home unchanged. We already feel it happening and we want to lean into it, not manage it back to normal. A Note From Caleb (14) My parents said I could write something so here goes. Kenya is not what I expected. I thought it would feel like a mission trip the way people describe mission trips. Like you're doing something for people who need help. It doesn't feel like that at all. It feels more like... being somewhere that's teaching you something you didn't know you needed to learn. I don't know how to say it better than that yet. Ask me when I get home. – Caleb A Note From Audrey (11) My favorite thing so far is a girl named Amara who is also 11 and taught me how to braid hair the Kenyan way and said my attempt was "very good actually" which I think was her being nice but I'll take it. Also the mangoes here are insane. That's all. – Audrey We love you, church. Keep the prayers coming, we feel every single one. Grace and peace.
Brad, Jess, Caleb, Audrey & Noah Miller Want to send the Millers an encouraging note? Email missions@lifeabundantla.com and we'll make sure it reaches them. To learn more about our global partnerships or support the Millers' trip, visit lifeabundantla.com/missions.
May 6, 2026 • 3 Minute Read
I Met God In The Driveway
I met God the other night while I was washing my car. I made the mistake of buying a black car. In fact, we have two black cars. It’s not an objective mistake in the sense that black cars are worse than any other colour car by any meaningful metric. The nature of black paint, however, is that it almost never looks clean. Any spot of water, dirt, or pollen (of which there has been plenty lately) seems to be accentuated on a black canvas, and frankly, is a glaring sore to my eye. That’s just me, that’s how I’m wired. You likely don’t care too much if your car is spotless or not and that’s good for you - sincerely, it’s good for you. I’m wired differently though, but thankfully I’m also inclined to enjoy washing my car by hand. So I took a look at the forecast to see how long my labour would be worth, and with nothing but clear skies in sight I set out to wash the car. Our kids were asleep, the evening was clear and cool, it was serene. With supplies in hand I made my move towards the driveway and there was God, waiting to met me. There’s a monkish way of moving through the world called liber mundi - “the world as a book”. It’s a way of living that moves slowly through the created cosmos, with eyes and ears open and attentive to see a story revealed through creation, as if it were a book to read. For us Christians, we believe that the world is the Lord’s, and it is a very reflection of his image. A revelation of sorts. God met me in the driveway in the stillness of being dedicated to one singular task, outside of the office and the home, and in the quiet of the evening. Without any external output or stimulus (and even without my AirPods in my ears plugging up my senses from the world around me), I was able to perceive and receive the peace of God while kneeling in soapy water on the tarmac. I’m not great at this way of living, and I wouldn’t even go as far as suggest that I’m good at it - but I’m trying. I’m trying to see glory in potato flowers and dandelions. I’m hoping to move on my feet and my pedals more often than I do on rubber powered by cylinders. I’m attempting to listen to less information (podcasts, sermons, etc.) and listen more to friends, family, and foes. I’m learning that the world is a book. I want to read it. Grace and peace,
Pastor Richard
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