“Avoiding this, that no man should blame us in this abundance which is administered by us: Providing for honest things, not only in the sight of the Lord, but also in the sight of men.“
— 2 Corinthians 8:20-21 KJV
Reflection on Today's Verse
Paul basically saying, “We’re handling money—but we’re doing it with clean hands and clear hearts.” He wasn’t just focused on pleasing God; he also wanted to avoid raising even a single eyebrow from people watching. Not because he feared judgment, but because he respected the trust they were given. Integrity wasn’t optional. It was part of worship.
This hits hard… Grace doesn’t just make us forgiven; it makes us accountable. It teaches us to be above suspicion—not out of fear, but out of love for God and care for people. Transparency isn’t just wise. It’s Christlike.
When grace grabs hold of you, it rewires how you handle what isn’t even yours in the first place. Money, influence, opportunities—steward it all like heaven’s watching. Because it is.
Personal Prayer
Lord, You see everything—every motive, every quiet decision, every hidden corner of my heart. Teach me to walk in integrity, even when no one’s watching. I don’t want to just appear trustworthy—I want to be trustworthy.
Help me handle what You’ve given me with care, whether it’s money, influence, or responsibility. Let me never be careless with the trust of others or casual with what belongs to You. Give me the kind of character that doesn’t need defending—because it’s built on truth.
Keep me grounded in grace, guarded by honesty, and guided by Your Spirit. May my life be clear in the eyes of both heaven and earth. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Author
Alona Smith writes like she sketches—quick strokes, bold colors, no eraser. She ran a small-town art studio before VerseForTheDay invited her to swap charcoal for chapters, yet paint still flecks her keyboard. Dawn finds her barefoot on the porch, swirling watercolors across a travel Bible, letting sunrise seep into the margins. Neighbors wave as she bikes to the farmers’ market, basket rattling with sunflowers and Psalms scribbled on kraft-paper price tags.Alona trusts that Scripture behaves like clay: press your palms in, and a vessel appears where empty air once lived. Afternoon workshops with foster teens prove the point; they mold hope into coffee mugs, then watch steam carry it forward.Diplomas? Only framed sketches of hands lifted in worship. Awards? A dog-eared gratitude list taped to her fridge. Open her reflections when cynicism scratches—she’ll slide a brush into your grip and show you light hiding in the smear of everyday color.