Tuesday, March 24, 2026

Miracles In My Life

Remember the wonders he has performed, his miracles, and the rulings he has given. – Psalm 105:5

In about two weeks I will become a grandmother. I am blessed to be able to be in South Carolina and share the last weeks of my daughter’s pregnancy with her. Every time I see her I am reminded of what a miracle childbirth is. Then this morning I read Beth’s devotion about the solar eclipse. I was lucky enough to be in Cleveland and witness it from atop a 12-story building. The simultaneous sunrise and sunset during the total blackout window was amazing and I remember thinking what a miracle the solar cycle is. But every day there are miracles in my life. The daffodils are blooming outside my window. Yesterday I “attended” church with my friends from 500 miles away thanks to the miracle of live streaming. Last week my grandnephew, who was born 15 weeks early, went home as a perfectly healthy baby, thanks to the miracle of modern medicine.

I have been watching “The Chosen.” One of the themes of the series is the miracles Jesus performs as a way for his disciples and others to understand who He is. The miracles Jesus performed were big ones, bringing sight to the blind, feeding the multitudes, walking on water, and raising the dead. We don’t see miracles like these in our daily lives, but I propose we experience miracles every day. I hope to always see them as just that and feel blessed and appreciative of the gift they are.

Prayer: Gracious God, thank you for the miracles in our lives, the big ones and the small ones. Help us to see them as reminders of your divine power and to strengthen our faith in your plan for all.

Cathy Lorenz
(Editor’s note: This devotion was written last year during Lent, apparently on March 24^th)

Monday, March 23, 2026

Our Haiti Legacy

It’s been 10 years since a group of us from GPUMC flew to Haiti for a second time. We helped build classrooms at the Harry Brakeman school in the city of Petit-Goave, some 25 miles from the epicenter of a devastating 2010 earthquake.

That return trip provided a huge sense of achievement. The foundation we had built two years earlier was now supporting active classrooms, thanks to follow-up work by visiting crews like ours. We left knowing that the nearly completed rooms we had worked on would soon be ready for use.

Even then, though, we saw signs of a country unraveling. On the Friday before we left, the driver of our van had to dodge chaos in Port-Au-Prince. A runoff election for president was postponed two days before it was scheduled to take place. Citizens, suspecting a rigged vote, took to the streets in protest.

Since then, the country has been the scene of assassination and anarchy. Some 90 percent of the capital is reportedly controlled by gangs.
All of which has left me wondering: Is there anything left to show for our efforts? Not surprisingly, an AI response through Google said the Harry Brakeman school had closed.

Then came a much better report. Dan Hart, our former associate pastor and leader of our trips, checked with an actual human and learned the school is still open.
The news put a flood of memories in a much different light.

That anxious ride through the streets of Port-Au-Prince led us to a Methodist guest house, where we spent our final night in Haiti.

“Does our work do any good?” I asked its director after dinner.
“Yes,” he said, without hesitation. “As bad as things are, they would be much worse without groups like yours.”

Things are now much worse. Yet the Harry Brakeman school still stands, providing education – and hope.

In my mind, that makes our work, the financial support of GPUMC members, and the labor of our fellow Haitian construction workers – Joel, Serge, Maxo, Simon, Edym, Jean-Pierre, Samuel, Emmanuel, and others – more valuable than they were a decade ago.

“Therefore, my beloved brothers and sisters, be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord because you know that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.” – 1 Corinthians 15:58

Dave Versical

Sunday, March 22, 2026

Clap

I've always enjoyed poetry. As a young girl, I would collect some favorites and tape them to my bedroom wall. I always felt a connection to the poet and either the simple or more complex words that were put down on paper.

Each year at school, we would have a book fair given by Scholastic Books. [I'm sure many of you remember those!] My mother brought home a book for herself.
I loved the title of it: 'Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle... and Other Modern Day Verse'. Great, right?

Well, I gave my mother, what I felt was ample time to read it, then, me being 8 snatched it and began to read. My father discovered I had it in my room. We began reading them together. Then, as we continued turning pages, we came across, what I remember as a wonderful and beautifully written poem, penned by Marcie Hans in 1965.

Its context reveals truth about man-made over God-made. It shows a comparison over contrast depicted with the two elements. Obviously, written in 1965, we were on the cusp of space voyage with NASA.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I do:

Fueled

Fueled
by a million
man-made
wings of fire –
the rocket tore a tunnel
through the sky –
and everybody cheered.

Fueled
only by a thought from God –
the seedling
urged its way
through the thickness of black –
and as it pierced
the heavy ceiling of the soil –
and launched itself
up into outer space
no
one
even
clapped.

Bravo!
Cathy Cupples

“I planted the seeds in your hearts and Apollos watered it, but it was God who made it grow.” – 1 Corinthians 3:6-9

“The kingdom of God is as if man should scatter seed on the ground...the seed sprouts and grows – he knows not how.” – Mark 4:26-29

Saturday, March 21, 2026

Be the light

“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid.  People do not light a lamp and put it under the bushel basket; rather, they put it on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” – Matthew 5: 14-16

One of my grandson’s favorite Christmas gifts this year was a headlamp from his uncle David. When you turn on the headlamp in a dark room, you can see! It’s like magic for a three-year-old.

Several Christmases ago, Bob gave headlamps to everyone in the family which means that there is almost always one at the ready if you need it. I keep one next to sewing machine so it’s available when I have to clean and oil its innards and another next to my bed. We really are headlamp geeks in this family!

There have been so many times when those goofy headlamps have saved the day. They literally are shining a light in the darkness, which makes the darkness a whole lot less scary.

I thought of them today as I listened to David’s sermon about salt and light. Light pierces the darkness. Light shows the way. Jesus calls on us to allow ourselves to be the light, to positively influence the world by acting out our faith every day.

Being the light means that our deeds matter, that we are serving as role models, if you will, for anyone who is watching what we say and do. The message from scripture is to be proud of our Christian beliefs and act like it every day. By acting out our faith, we will influence others to the values of Jesus.

Prayer: Lord, help me remember that, if I want to live and love like Jesus, I must be mindful about all that I say and do. Help me to lead a life that is built on the values of Jesus

Joan Richardson

Friday, March 20, 2026

A Prayerful Face

Read: Psalm 27: 7-8

“My heart says of you, ‘Seek His Face!’ Your face, Lord, I will seek.” – Psalm 27: 8

Whenever I pray and direct my prayers to Jesus, I try to see a recognizable face of Jesus to make my prayer experience a little more personal and intimate. I can’t. If I’m praying to God the Father, I’m comfortable praying to God as Spirit. No need to see a face.

For me, what drives my need to see a face of Jesus in my prayers is a Biblical teaching that Jesus is fully human and fully divine. I seek a face for that fully human nature. I haven’t found that face yet, but I keep seeking.

When you pray, do you seek or see a face to converse with? If not, then who or what do you see or sense in prayer?

Prayer: Lord, I seek your face in personal prayer with you. I know I will see your face in the course of time, but a reassuring glimpse now would be a true comfort on my journey until then. Amen.

Mike Bernhardt

Prayer Focus: Seeking Jesus in my prayers.

Thursday, March 19, 2026

The Gift of Memories

"I consider the days of old, and remember the years of long ago." – Psalm 77:5

It was one of those gorgeous summer nights. Lake St. Clair spread out like a rumpled satin sheet gleaming in the moonlight under diamond chips of stars set in a black velvet sky. It was around midnight, and my husband Kelly couldn't sleep. I suggested we walk down to our patio which fronts the lake and sit awhile taking in the peace and splendor of the evening, watching the lights from the freighters and other boats as they crisscrossed the water. We were about ten years into our marriage at this point and Kelly's health was steadily deteriorating. He began to avoid socializing and seemed to find comfort in sometimes sitting by the lake with me when no one else was around.

We had a wonderful time. We talked about everything – how we met, our first "real" date (on Valentine's Day and one day before I formally joined GPUMC). Our crazy, last minute, thrown together wedding; the reception we had the following summer in the mountains of Pennsylvania. A family cruise we had taken. We talked about friends and family members that had passed away and the fun times we had experienced with those who were living. We talked about sailing and fishing – favorite pastimes for both of us. We relived the happy times we had shared – volunteering at the Great Lakes Maritime Center, weekend trips, buying our first home, then our second. All the crazy pranks he pulled on me; Kelly was quite the comedian and I was quite the easy mark for all his gags.

Suddenly I looked up at the sky and was a bit alarmed. It looked weird – and the color was rapidly changing to a slate gray – I thought maybe a major storm was brewing. Then the truth hit me – we had stayed up and talked all night! It hadn't occurred to us to look at a watch and concern ourselves with the time. The gray faded and dawn began to break – and it was a breathtaking dawn – with whorls of deep coral streaking across a robin's egg blue sky.

I was to recall that night many times during those first long years that stretched out before me after Kelly's death four years later. What a wonderful blessing that after ten years of marriage, we were still so in love and had so much to share that we stayed up all night reminiscing against the backdrop of that beautiful night and blissful dawn! I believe it was yet another of God's many mercies that I was gifted with such a lovely memory to comfort me during the difficult time to come!

Prayer: Dear Lord, help us to see that Your blessings are not just gifts received at specific points in time, but are continuous through memory of them and the comfort and faith in Your goodness they inspire. Amen.

Joyce Reynolds

Prayer Focus: Those who have recently lost a spouse.

Wednesday, March 18, 2026

An Ode to Oliver and Cooper
(Things Our Little Ones Teach Us)

Read: Psalm 139:13-16, 1 Corinthians 12:4-12

I always say God knew what He was doing by sending me Oliver first.
I had no idea what I was doing, but he brought a sense of peace to everything we did.

Oliver has never been a stereotypical boy in the way of scaling walls or jumping in muddy puddles.
His protection and love are gentle.

I’ve had the privilege of watching him become a big brother twice, and the way he cares for his people is so natural, instinctive, and kind.

Through loving Oliver, I’m reminded that society doesn’t decide who we are. God creates us to be exactly who we are. And living that out with certainty – especially when it looks different than expected – shows courage and strength.

Cooper is only two, so you could say we’re still getting to know each other. Who knows who Cooper will become as he grows. Of course, who we are as toddlers is not who we are at 12 or 20 or beyond.

But today, he is enthusiastic and alive, and along for any ride. He wants to be present. He never wants to miss a thing. And dare I say, he is a stereotypical boy – usually climbing a wall or a piece of furniture.

But through his siblings, he is learning a gentle kind of love and kindness.

Through loving Cooper, I’m reminded that God’s love comes in endless forms – quiet and loud, steady and wild, gentle and bold.

And through loving Oliver and Cooper, I’m reminded that no two hearts are the same –
yet each one reflects God in its own way.
In their quiet gentleness and joyful energy, I see again and again that we are all created with purpose, and called to love one another with tender, serving hearts

Emily Bianchi