As the month winds down and the air grows cooler, we’re reminded that even the brightest fire starts to fade if it isn’t tended. Our faith is much the same.
It burns bright in the moments of revival, but it’s gratitude, the quiet, steady practice of noticing God’s goodness, that keeps the flame alive.
Gratitude isn’t about ignoring hardship; it’s about finding warmth in the middle of it. It’s choosing to say, “God, You’re still good,” even when the wood is wet and the night feels long.
“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:18
When we cultivate gratitude, we shift our perspective from what’s missing to what’s present—from frustration to faith.
Gratitude doesn’t change our circumstances, but it changes us.
It softens our hearts, opens our eyes, and stirs up joy even in ordinary days.
Think about it: the same fire that warms you also refines you.
The same embers that glow at the end of a long night remind you that God’s light never goes out.
Down here in South Louisiana, gratitude isn’t just spoken, it’s shared.
It’s in the way we gather around a meal, thank the cook, and say, “God is good.”
It’s in the porch prayers, the laughter that follows the storm, and the way we pass the bread and the blessings around the table.
Even after loss, even after long seasons of waiting, gratitude reminds us, we’re still here. God’s still faithful. And there’s still something beautiful growing, even in the ashes.
“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and He helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise Him.” — Psalm 28:7
🕯️ Start or end each day by naming three things you’re grateful for.
They don’t have to be grand, sometimes it’s a quiet morning, a hot meal, or a friend’s text that came just in time.
Write them down. Speak them out loud. Thank God for them.
You’ll be amazed at how gratitude reignites your joy.
Friend, as October comes to a close, may your fire of faith still glow softly, steady, warm, and bright with gratitude.
Let your heart remember:
You’ve weathered storms and still stand.
You’ve seen God’s hand in the small things.
You’ve grown in the glow of His goodness.
Keep the fire burning, not by striving, but by staying thankful.
Because a grateful heart will always find warmth, even in the coldest season.
Faith was never meant to be lived alone. God designed us for connection, to pray, laugh, cry, and walk this journey side by side. Yet, in our busy world, we often drift into isolation. We convince ourselves that we can handle it all, but even the strongest flame burns out when it’s separated from the fire.
Fellowship is God’s way of keeping our hearts warm. It’s the gentle glow that happens when believers gather, when stories are shared, prayers are whispered, and encouragement passes from one soul to another.
“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another.” — Hebrews 10:24–25
When we come together in faith, something sacred happens. God shows up in the in-between moments, between laughter and tears, between the “me too’s” and the “I’m praying for you’s.”
Sometimes it’s not the sermon that revives us, but the sister sitting beside us who says, “You’re not alone.”
That’s fellowship, it’s the firelight of faith, where we remember that community is not just company; it’s comfort.
Here in South Louisiana, we know the power of gathering. Whether it’s a gumbo night, a church potluck, or a porch full of women talking long after the sun sets, fellowship is woven into our culture.
We share stories, swap recipes, pray over each other’s families, and leave a little lighter than when we came. That’s what fellowship in Christ looks like, it’s not fancy; it’s faithful. It’s women showing up for one another, bringing light to the dark corners of each other’s lives.
“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” — Matthew 18:20
Invite them to coffee, lunch, or a simple chat.
Ask, “How’s your heart?” and really listen.
Or, join a women’s group, Bible study, or even host your own small gathering.
Don’t underestimate what a small moment of fellowship can do, it could be the spark that rekindles someone’s faith (or your own).
Friend, the glow of fellowship reminds us that the fire of faith burns brightest when shared. When you gather with others, you’re not just keeping yourself warm, you’re helping someone else find their light again.
So pull up a chair, pour some coffee, and make space for connection. Because when women gather in faith, hearts heal, hope rises, and the warmth of God’s presence fills the room.
There comes a point in every season, especially in the busy ones, when we feel it deep in our bones: the weariness.
We keep showing up, keep serving, keep doing, but our spirits whisper, “I’m tired.”
If that’s where you are right now, hear this: God doesn’t scold the weary. He invites them closer.
Jesus’ words in Matthew 11:28 aren’t just comforting, they’re commanding in their gentleness. “Come to Me.” It’s not a to-do list; it’s an invitation. Rest isn’t a reward for finishing the work. It’s a rhythm God built into the way He designed us to live.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28
Think of rest like sitting beside a fire after a long, cold day. You don’t rush it. You sit. You breathe. You let the warmth sink in.
In the same way, rest in God’s presence isn’t about checking out, it’s about tuning in. It’s where we stop striving to be “enough” and remember that He already is.
Sometimes resting in God means pausing for prayer. Other times, it’s a long walk, a quiet drive, or sitting in stillness without words. Rest looks different in every season, but the heart of it is the same: be with Him.
Down here in Louisiana, we know a thing or two about slowing down. When the day’s heat fades, we grab a glass of sweet tea, find the porch swing, and let the world keep spinning while we breathe.
That’s what God invites us to do for our souls. The same way a good fire or a quiet porch offers warmth and calm, His presence offers rest that reaches deeper than sleep. It’s the kind of peace that lingers, even when the to-do list is still waiting.
“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.” — Psalm 4:8
Take one intentional pause this week, no phone, no noise, no guilt. Just breathe and whisper, “Lord, I’m here.”
Ask yourself:
What is draining my energy right now?
What might God be inviting me to lay down?
Where can I make room for quiet in my day?
Even five minutes can shift your soul back toward peace.
Friend, rest isn’t weakness, it’s worship.
When you sit in God’s presence, you’re declaring that His strength is enough to carry what you can’t.
So this week, stop striving to do it all. Find your “fire”, whatever quiet place helps you connect with Him, and stay there for a while.
Because the same God who spoke peace to the waves can calm your heart too.
We all walk through seasons when our faith feels dim. Life gets heavy, prayers feel quiet, and we wonder if the fire inside us is fading out. But here’s the truth: embers still glow beneath the ash. The Spirit of God within us never burns out—it just needs tending.
Paul reminded Timothy to “fan into flame” the gift of God. That same encouragement reaches us today. Faith doesn’t keep itself alive automatically. It needs attention, fuel, and breath.
“For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.” — 2 Timothy 1:6–7
Like a fire on a cold October night, faith needs tending:
Adding wood → choosing to open the Word, even when it feels hard.
Stirring the coals → showing up in prayer, even with weak words.
Sitting close → drawing near to God’s presence when we’re weary.
When we stir the embers, God breathes fresh wind on our faith. What feels small or fragile can spark into a steady flame again.
Here in Louisiana, whether it’s a backyard bonfire or coals under a gumbo pot, we know a fire doesn’t stay alive on its own. It takes someone willing to tend it—to watch, to stir, to feed it at the right time. Our faith is much the same. Left untended, it cools. Nurtured, it glows warm and steady, even on the coldest nights.
This week, identify one “small log” you can add to your fire. Maybe it’s:
Setting aside 10 minutes for Scripture reading.
Starting your morning with a whispered prayer.
Writing down one thing God has done for you each day.
Whatever you choose, do it faithfully, and watch how God stirs the embers.
Friend, if your faith feels dim, you’re not alone—and you’re not done. The flame is still there. The Spirit within you is strong, steady, and faithful.
Fan into flame the gift of God. Keep tending your fire. Even in cold seasons, the warmth of His presence will never leave you.