1 Corinthians 9:22 – Today’s Verse for May 4, 2025 Sunday

“To the weak became I as weak, that I might gain the weak: I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some.“
— 1 Corinthians 9:22 KJV

Reflection on Today's Verse

Paul isn’t playing pretend here—he’s showing us what real love looks like. It means stepping into someone else’s shoes, even if they don’t fit. He didn’t compromise truth; he just carried it in ways people could actually receive. That takes humility, not ego. It’s less about being agreeable, more about being available.

We’re not called to impress people into the kingdom—we’re called to reach them. That means trading comfort for connection, preferences for purpose. If someone’s drowning, you don’t throw them a book on swimming; you dive in.

Jesus met people exactly where they were. Paul followed that same rhythm. So should we. Not to win arguments, but to win hearts. Not to blend in, but to break through.

Are you flexible enough to be useful? Or too polished to be touched?

Personal Prayer

Lord, teach me how to love like You—without conditions, without ego. Help me let go of needing to be right, and instead, be real. Give me a heart that sees beyond differences, that listens more than it speaks, and that reaches without fear of rejection.

Make me bold enough to enter someone else’s world without losing the truth You planted in mine. Let me carry Your grace in ways people can understand. Not to perform, but to serve. Not to impress, but to reflect Your kindness.

Shape me into someone who lives with open hands, ready to meet people where they are—just like You met me. Amen.

Author

Alona
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.