Edited by Jim McCrory, Sunday 30 August 2026 at 18:57
The Gentle Tongue
In the stillness of the early morning, I found myself reading Psalm 138. When I came to verse 8, the words seemed almost to rise from the page:
“The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me.”
I lingered there for a while. Those words reminded me of something I so easily forget: God is not finished with me yet.
There are unfinished places in all of us—places where we still need to grow, soften, change, and become more like Christ. For me, one of those places is the way I sometimes speak to people, especially those closest to me, including my wife. I can be too quick with my words, too easily frustrated, and at times I forget the gentleness that ought to mark the life of someone who follows Jesus.
Paul gives us a beautiful picture of that gentleness in 1 Thessalonians 2:7–8 when he describes his care for the believers in Thessalonica with the tenderness of a nursing mother caring for her children.
There is something deeply moving about that image.
A mother does not hold her child at a distance. She carries, nourishes, protects, comforts, and gives herself in love. Paul reaches for this tender picture to show us something of what Christian love should look like. It is not simply about saying the right things or appearing kind on the outside. It is about becoming the kind of people whose hearts are being shaped by the love of Christ—people who learn to carry others with patience, compassion, tenderness, and genuine affection.
Perhaps this is part of what Psalm 138:8 means for us today.
God is still at work in the unfinished places of our character.
He does not abandon us because we stumble in the same place more than once. He does not turn away because we have not yet become the people we long to be. Instead, He patiently continues His work within us, shaping us little by little into people who increasingly reflect the heart of Christ.
There is something both humbling and deeply comforting about this. Spiritual growth is not simply a project of self-improvement that we accomplish through determination and willpower. We are works in progress, held in the hands of a God whose grace is greater than our weakness and whose patience is greater than our impatience with ourselves.
And so my prayer this morning is becoming more than simply, “Lord, help me speak more gently.”
I find myself praying, “Lord, make my heart more gentle.”
I want the words I speak to my wife to bring life rather than hurt. I want my words toward family, friends, and those I meet along the way to carry patience rather than irritation. I want to learn to respond with kindness even when someone frustrates me, remembering that the person standing before me is also someone created in the image of God.
Perhaps the deeper work God desires to do is not merely to change the words that come from my mouth, but to transform the heart from which those words come.
That is a much deeper work.
And it is a work I cannot accomplish by myself.
The God who began His work in me is still working in me. He sees the places that remain unfinished, the habits that still need changing, the words I wish I could take back, and the parts of my character that still need to become more like Christ. None of these things surprise Him, and none of them lie beyond the reach of His grace.
Perhaps even the weakness we become painfully aware of today is not evidence that God has failed to change us. Perhaps seeing it more clearly is itself part of His work. It may be an invitation to bring that very weakness into the light, place it into His hands, and trust Him with the work we cannot complete ourselves.
There is something wonderfully hopeful about knowing that God does not require us to be finished before He loves us. Nor does He abandon us because we are still becoming.
“The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me.”
Those words remind me that my story is still being written by the One who knows me completely and loves me faithfully.
The work may be unfinished, but the Worker has not left.
He is still shaping. Still teaching. Still correcting. Still softening.
Still drawing us toward the likeness of Christ.
So perhaps we do not need to look at the unfinished places in our lives with despair. We can look at them honestly, repent where repentance is needed, ask forgiveness where we have caused hurt, and then place ourselves once again into the patient hands of God.
There is still work to be done in me.
But there is also still a God at work in me.
And because He has not given up His work, I do not need to give up hope.
“The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me.”
May that promise give us courage to face what still needs changing, grace to be patient with the process, and faith to trust the One who continues His work within us.
The Gentle Tongue
The Gentle Tongue
In the stillness of the early morning, I found myself reading Psalm 138. When I came to verse 8, the words seemed almost to rise from the page:
“The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me.”
I lingered there for a while. Those words reminded me of something I so easily forget: God is not finished with me yet.
There are unfinished places in all of us—places where we still need to grow, soften, change, and become more like Christ. For me, one of those places is the way I sometimes speak to people, especially those closest to me, including my wife. I can be too quick with my words, too easily frustrated, and at times I forget the gentleness that ought to mark the life of someone who follows Jesus.
Paul gives us a beautiful picture of that gentleness in 1 Thessalonians 2:7–8 when he describes his care for the believers in Thessalonica with the tenderness of a nursing mother caring for her children.
There is something deeply moving about that image.
A mother does not hold her child at a distance. She carries, nourishes, protects, comforts, and gives herself in love. Paul reaches for this tender picture to show us something of what Christian love should look like. It is not simply about saying the right things or appearing kind on the outside. It is about becoming the kind of people whose hearts are being shaped by the love of Christ—people who learn to carry others with patience, compassion, tenderness, and genuine affection.
Perhaps this is part of what Psalm 138:8 means for us today.
God is still at work in the unfinished places of our character.
He does not abandon us because we stumble in the same place more than once. He does not turn away because we have not yet become the people we long to be. Instead, He patiently continues His work within us, shaping us little by little into people who increasingly reflect the heart of Christ.
There is something both humbling and deeply comforting about this. Spiritual growth is not simply a project of self-improvement that we accomplish through determination and willpower. We are works in progress, held in the hands of a God whose grace is greater than our weakness and whose patience is greater than our impatience with ourselves.
And so my prayer this morning is becoming more than simply, “Lord, help me speak more gently.”
I find myself praying, “Lord, make my heart more gentle.”
I want the words I speak to my wife to bring life rather than hurt. I want my words toward family, friends, and those I meet along the way to carry patience rather than irritation. I want to learn to respond with kindness even when someone frustrates me, remembering that the person standing before me is also someone created in the image of God.
Perhaps the deeper work God desires to do is not merely to change the words that come from my mouth, but to transform the heart from which those words come.
That is a much deeper work.
And it is a work I cannot accomplish by myself.
The God who began His work in me is still working in me. He sees the places that remain unfinished, the habits that still need changing, the words I wish I could take back, and the parts of my character that still need to become more like Christ. None of these things surprise Him, and none of them lie beyond the reach of His grace.
Perhaps even the weakness we become painfully aware of today is not evidence that God has failed to change us. Perhaps seeing it more clearly is itself part of His work. It may be an invitation to bring that very weakness into the light, place it into His hands, and trust Him with the work we cannot complete ourselves.
There is something wonderfully hopeful about knowing that God does not require us to be finished before He loves us. Nor does He abandon us because we are still becoming.
“The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me.”
Those words remind me that my story is still being written by the One who knows me completely and loves me faithfully.
The work may be unfinished, but the Worker has not left.
He is still shaping. Still teaching. Still correcting. Still softening.
Still drawing us toward the likeness of Christ.
So perhaps we do not need to look at the unfinished places in our lives with despair. We can look at them honestly, repent where repentance is needed, ask forgiveness where we have caused hurt, and then place ourselves once again into the patient hands of God.
There is still work to be done in me.
But there is also still a God at work in me.
And because He has not given up His work, I do not need to give up hope.
“The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me.”
May that promise give us courage to face what still needs changing, grace to be patient with the process, and faith to trust the One who continues His work within us.
We are unfinished.
But we are still in His hands.