“You are my servant, Israel, through whom I show my glory.” Isaiah 49:3

When I read these words, I feel them settle right into my heart. God is speaking with such tenderness, almost the way a mother speaks over her child, reminding them who they are when they forget. I hear a whisper, “you belong to Me. I made you for a purpose.”

As a mom, I think about all the ordinary moments that fill my day. Packing lunches, wiping counters, repeating the same reminders, and trying to hold everything together. It rarely feels “glorious.” But this verse reminds me that God isn’t asking for perfection. He is asking for faithfulness. He sees the love behind every small act, even when we don’t see it ourselves. 

As a wife, I hear God calling me to love with patience and humility, even when life feels rushed or heavy. Marriage brings days of deep joy and days where you feel stretched thin.  When I choose kindness, when I forgive quickly, when I pray for my spouse, I am doing exactly what this verse describes, letting God’s glory show through me. I don’t need to impress others. I just need to be faithful.

As a sister in Christ, this verse reminds me that I am never alone. God claims me as His servant, His daughter, His beloved. He gives me strength when I feel tired, peace when I feel unsure, and courage when I feel small. And I know He gives the same to my sisters and brothers in faith. We all carry little pieces of His glory into the world, through kindness, through prayer, through the way we show up for one another.

Isaiah 49:3 is not a heavy command. It is a loving reminder:

• You were created for this very moment.
• God looks at your heart with joy.
• His light guides you, even when life feels chaotic.

May we continue to serve Him with open hands, trusting that every small act of love speaks His name.


Shelly Filmore
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The “yet” isn’t there. Nevertheless, I can hear it in John the Baptist’s exclamation as he tries to push away this moment that is about to happen:

“I need to be baptized by You, and yet You come to me?” 

There’s a shift here in who is the actor, and who is the acted upon. The swap happens at the conjunction “and” that’s joined by my silent “yet”:

“I need to be baptized by You, and yet You come to me?”

I can understand John’s trying to forbid this from going forward. I can see why he feels this to be incomprehensible. Here is the One for whom he has been preparing a way. Here is the One for whom he has been calling people to come into the water to be cleaned. Here is the One whose sandals he can’t even carry. Here is the One with the winnowing fork. Here is the One who will immerse people in the fire of His love and in the Holy Spirit. And yet, He comes to John and his camel hair shirt, asking to be immersed in the Jordan. Like everyone else in line.

This moment itself is a conjunction, a place that marks the shift between being seen as a carpenter’s son and being revealed as God’s Son. As has happened before in God’s plan, the way forward is through the waters of the Jordan. And standing between Jesus and the conjunction is John. The man who was born to make a way, stands in the way. Jesus meets John’s “and yet” with His “let it be.” There is a contrast in action words here. Prevent. Consent. John moves from one to the other. This is the most amazing thing to me. Jesus stands at the crossroads waiting for John’s permission, waiting for his “yes” — just as the Holy Spirit waited for Mary’s. As God waits for mine.

I think whenever I’ve come to the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord before, I’ve thought of the wrong actor and acted upon for the verb “consented.” I would read, “Then he consented.” And I would see in my mind’s eye, “Then He consented.” As in, at this moment Jesus, even considering all He holds, allows John to baptize Him. When really, in this moment, John, even considering all that he’s missing, allows Jesus to be baptized.

O My Sweet Jesus, for all the ways that I prevent You from moving forward in my life, forgive me. Show me the next thing that I’m afraid to believe is possible. Give me the courage to take in Your “Let it be” and to release to You my consent, letting you change everything, again. Amen.


Noreen Smith​