Some seasons steal more from us than we ever expected: peace, energy, confidence, laughter, even our sense of self.
And sometimes, joy isn’t lost suddenly… it just quietly slips away.
That’s why this week matters.
Joy renewed is what happens when God breathes life into the parts of us that grew dim, tired, or forgotten.
Not joy we manufacture.
Not joy we pretend to have.
But joy God gently rekindles, the kind that glows from the inside out.
You don't have to feel joyful to be renewed.
You just have to be open for God to do what only He can do.
Isaiah 61:3 – “He gives beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning…”
Before God renews joy, He often invites us to loosen our grip:
on expectations,
on disappointment,
on timelines that haven’t gone as planned,
on the weight we’ve been carrying in silence.
Sometimes renewal starts with a simple prayer:
“Lord, breathe on what’s grown weary in me.”
Joy doesn’t return as noise or fireworks.
Most of the time, it returns like sunrise, slow, steady, impossible to stop.
Romans 15:13 – “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him…”
God specializes in renewal.
He restores what was worn.
He strengthens what was weak.
He revives what was faint.
And where you see ashes, He sees the beginning of beauty.
Joy renewed means:
a smile you haven’t felt in a while
hope whispering again
peace settling into your bones
lightness returning where heaviness lived
This is the work of the Holy Spirit, not striving, not pushing, just receiving.
Down here, we know something about rebuilding warmth.
When the nights get cold and the house gets quiet, we gather by the fire, the kind that smells like oak and childhood memories. A fire doesn’t leap high all at once; it begins with an ember, then a spark, then a slow, growing flame.
That’s how joy returns.
Not all at once, but gradually…
glowing first in the small moments:
a good meal, soft music, a hug, a prayer whispered with faith.
Just like tending a fire, you don’t force the flame, you nurture it.
Choose one simple practice that renews joy in your spirit:
Sit by a candle and journal
Go on a quiet walk
Play worship softly as you cook
Write one thing God has restored this year
Share a moment of gratitude with someone you love
Let joy rise gently — like breath, like warmth, like light.
Your joy isn't gone; it’s being renewed.
God is still restoring.
Still rebuilding.
Still breathing life into every place that felt empty, tired, or forgotten.
Let Him rekindle joy this week.
You don’t have to force it.
Just make room for the light to return.
Joy is rising in you again, slowly, beautifully, faithfully.
Sometimes joy isn’t restored in a moment, it’s remembered one memory at a time.
There are seasons when your heart feels too tired, too stretched, or too disappointed to feel joy naturally. But Scripture shows us something tender and powerful:
Joy often begins with remembering.
Not remembering everything that went wrong, not replaying what broke you,
but calling back to mind the moments God held you, helped you, healed you, and carried you through.
Sometimes the road back to joy is paved with reminders of how faithful He has already been.
This week is about slowing down and remembering the goodness that’s been woven through your story — even in the chapters you’d rather forget.
When life gets heavy, our minds naturally drift toward:
what we lost
what isn’t working
what we’re still waiting for
what feels uncertain
But God invites us to shift our focus.
Not to ignore the pain, but to anchor ourselves in truth.
Because the enemy uses forgetfulness to weaken us.
But God uses remembrance to strengthen us.
Joy rises again when we meditate on:
Prayers He answered
Storms He calmed
Doors He opened
Strength He gave
Hope He resurrected
What God has done before, He can do again.
Here in South Louisiana, we keep stories the way we keep recipes—handed down, simmered long, carried with love.
Every family has memories that bring a smile even after the hardest years:
a grandmother’s laugh
a Christmas gathering before the storm
the way the house smelled when someone was cooking gumbo
the songs sung at midnight service
the people who loved us well
These moments don’t just sit in the past, they remind us that joy has lived here before.
And if joy lived here before…
it can live here again.
This week, take moments to pause and whisper:
“Lord, help me remember.”
Remember His goodness.
Remember His nearness.
Remember that He has never left you without hope.
Joy doesn’t always roar back into the room.
Sometimes it returns quiet —
in a memory,
a song,
a smell,
a Scripture,
a story.
But return it will.
Make a “Joy Journal Page.”
Write down five things God has done for you, from any season of your life, that still warm your heart.
They can be big or small. Just true.
Then pray:
“Lord, let what You’ve done remind me of what You will do.”
Your joy is not gone, it’s just waiting to be remembered.
God has been faithful before.
He is faithful now.
He will be faithful again.
Let this be a week of smiling at old blessings
and opening your heart to new ones.
Joy is returning.
One memory at a time.
Blessings,
Liz
December arrives with twinkling lights, holiday music, and an unspoken pressure to feel cheerful.
But if we’re honest, some years joy doesn’t show up on schedule.
Maybe life has been heavy.
Maybe the year took more from you than it gave.
Maybe you’re stepping into the holiday season with more sighs than songs.
If that’s you, take a deep breath, you’re not failing.
You’re human.
And joy that comes from God doesn’t mind meeting you in the places that feel worn out.
David prayed, “Restore my joy.”
Not create.
Not pretend.
Not earn.
Restore.
This tells us something beautiful:
God knows how to bring joy back to a tired soul.
“Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and uphold me with a willing spirit.” — Psalm 51:12
We often expect joy to rush in like a celebration, loud, instant, bright.
But God restores joy the way dawn touches the earth:
Quietly.
Slowly.
Faithfully.
It might start as peace where there used to be pressure.
A lighter heart in the same old routine.
A laugh that surprises you.
Breath coming easier than before.
You don’t have to chase joy, you simply allow God to refill what life has drained.
“Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength…” — Isaiah 40:31
Here in Louisiana, we understand slow restoration.
The rebuild after a storm doesn’t come together in minutes; it takes time, patience, and the right mix of ingredients, a little faith, a little strength, and a whole lot of grace.
Christmas in the South feels the same way:
• a quiet morning with coffee
• the sound of gospel choir rehearsals floating through small churches
• the glow of Christmas lights on old oak trees
• memories stirred by recipes passed down from our grandmothers
Joy often returns in these familiar rhythms, not the rushed ones.
It’s not in the performance of Christmas.
It’s in the presence of Christ.
Ask yourself gently:
Where am I empty?
Where have I given more than I’ve received?
Where do I need God to restore joy?
And then allow Him to meet you in…
• your quiet moments
• your breath between tasks
• your commute
• your tears
• your worship
• your stillness
God specializes in restoring hearts that feel overworked and overlooked.
Take one 5-minute pause each day this week.
Sit quietly (no phone, no noise) and pray this simple prayer:
“Lord, restore my joy. I’m ready to receive what only You can give.”
Don’t strive.
Just breathe.
Let Him meet you in the quiet.
You don’t need to show up joyful, you just need to show up open.
Joy is coming back to you, friend.
Not because the season demands it,
but because the Savior delights in restoring it.
This December, may your weary places soften,
may your heart feel held, and may the joy you thought was gone rise again, slowly, gently, beautifully.
Blessings,
Liz