Daily Devotional: Humility & Service: A Life Poured Out

Towel and Basin

“For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
Mark 10:45

A PERSONAL TESTIMONY

I want to be transparent with you today, because I believe that is what this community deserves, and because what I have lived through these past two weeks is too significant to set aside in favor of a devotional that pretends everything is business as usual. It is not. And I think there is more truth and more grace in telling you that honestly than in anything else I could offer this morning.

About two weeks ago, I began experiencing a painful sciatica flare-up. What I hoped would pass quickly did not. The pain became relentless, the kind that does not let up when you lie down, does not ease when you shift positions, does not respond to the things that are supposed to help. Day after day it continued, wearing down not just my body but my spirit in ways I did not fully anticipate. I ended up back in the hospital.

But here is what I want you to know: God was present in every moment of it.

The doctors were thorough and persistent. After careful evaluation, they identified the source of my pain: my L4, L5, and S1 discs. There was a clear diagnosis, a clear plan, and a clear path forward. I cannot tell you how much that meant after days of not knowing. Sometimes the answered prayer is not the removal of the trial. Sometimes it is the clarity to understand what you are dealing with and the wisdom of the people God places around you to help you through it.

This morning I am going into back surgery. And I want to tell you what this morning feels like, because I think it might speak to something you are carrying too.

• It feels like surrender. Real surrender, not the kind I write about in devotionals, but the kind that has nowhere to hide.
• It feels like trust being tested in the most personal way imaginable and holding.
• It feels like the peace that Paul describes, the peace that surpasses understanding, settling into a hospital room and refusing to leave.
• It feels like a life poured out, not grandly and dramatically, but in the quiet, unglamorous, sometimes painful way that real service and real faith actually look.

This week we have been talking about what it means to live a life poured out in humility and service. Jesus did not come to be served but to serve and to give His life. I have been writing about that truth for most of the week from a hospital bed, and I want to tell you: it lands differently when you are living it. When the pouring out is not optional. When you are completely dependent on God and on the people around you. That kind of vulnerability has a way of teaching you things about humility that no devotional ever fully can.

I have been overwhelmed this week by the outpouring of love, prayers, and kind words from so many of you. I did not expect it to be what it has been. Message after message. Prayer after prayer. People reaching out who I had not heard from in years. People I see every Sunday checking in quietly and faithfully. It has been one of the most moving experiences of my life, and I do not say that lightly.

To every single person who has thought of me, prayed for me, sent a word of encouragement, or simply held me in your heart this week: thank you. From the deepest place in me, thank you. You have reminded me that the body of Christ is not a metaphor. It is not something we talk about on Sunday mornings and leave at the door. It is real people, showing up in real ways, for real people who are hurting. You have served me this week with a humility and a love that has carried me in ways I could not have carried myself. I have felt that in ways I will never forget.

A life poured out does not always look heroic. Sometimes it looks like lying in a hospital bed, trusting God with what you cannot control, and being genuinely grateful for every person who showed up to help carry what you could not carry alone. That is the lesson this week has pressed deep into me. We were never meant to pour ourselves out in isolation. We pour out, and the community pours back. That is the body of Christ working exactly the way God designed it.

I am going into this surgery with open hands and a full heart. I trust the God who has brought me this far. I trust the team He has placed around me. And I trust that whatever comes next, He will provide what is needed for every good work still ahead.

I am leaving this in His hands this morning. Open hands, full heart, deep gratitude.

I will see you on the other side.

Looking back over this week, what has shifted in how you understand humility and service, and what is one specific way you want to live more poured out in the week ahead?

PRAYER

Father, I come to You this morning exactly as I am. Grateful. Humbled. A little anxious and deeply at peace at the same time, which I know is only possible because of You. Thank You for the doctors who found the answer. Thank You for the community that has surrounded me with prayer and love this week. Thank You for the peace that has settled into this hospital room and refused to leave. I trust You with this surgery. I trust You with my recovery. I trust You with every day that follows, the ones that will be hard and the ones that will be full of joy. You have always provided what I needed for what You called me to do. I am counting on that today and every day after. To everyone reading this: thank you for your prayers. They have carried me. Keep going in your own hard places. A life poured out for God and for others is never wasted. I am living proof of that this morning. Amen.