Ephesians 4:29 – Today’s Verse for March 21, 2025 Friday

“Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers.“
— Ephesians 4:29 KJV

Reflection on Today's Verse

Words matter. God tells us to be careful with what we say. Not just to avoid swearing or gossip. It goes deeper than that. Our words should help, not hurt.

Think about the last thing you said to someone. Did it build them up? Or did it tear them down? Even small comments can leave deep marks. Sometimes we don’t mean harm, but the damage is done.

God wants our words to bring life. Kind words. Honest words. Encouraging words. Not fake or shallow, but real and good. Words that lift people up when they’re low. Words that remind them they matter.

This isn’t always easy. Especially when we’re tired or upset. But that’s when it matters most. The Holy Spirit can help us pause before we speak. He can shape our hearts so our words follow.

Jesus never used His words to tear people down. Even when He corrected others, He spoke with love. We’re called to do the same.

Let’s ask God to help us speak like that. Words that heal. Words that shine His light. Words that leave others better, not bitter.

Personal Prayer

Lord, You gave me a voice to speak. Help me use it for good. Keep my words from harming others. Let them bring life, not pain.

When I’m tempted to speak out of anger or frustration, slow me down. Fill my heart with kindness so that my words reflect Your love. Teach me to encourage, not tear down. To bring peace, not division. To be honest, but never cruel.

Let my words be a blessing today. To my family, my friends, even strangers. May everything I say reflect Your grace. 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.