Proverbs 10:7 – Today’s Verse for March 25, 2025 Tuesday

“The memory of the just is blessed: but the name of the wicked shall rot.“
— Proverbs 10:7 KJV

Reflection on Today's Verse

Have you ever noticed how some people leave a good feeling behind when you think of them? Even years later, when their name comes up, you smile. You remember their kindness, their honesty, their love for God. Those memories feel warm, like a blessing.

But then there are others whose names make your heart heavy. They chose the wrong path. They hurt people. When someone mentions them, people turn quiet or change the subject. No one feels good remembering someone who lived selfishly or caused harm.

This simple verse is a reminder for all of us. It matters how we live. Our lives are like stories we leave behind for others. If we follow Jesus and treat people with love, our memory can inspire and encourage people long after we’re gone.

So think about your own life. What kind of memory do you want to leave behind? The good news is, it’s never too late to start living in a way that blesses others. Every day we have a chance to create memories worth keeping. (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

Personal Prayer

Heavenly Father, thank you for reminding me today that my life matters. I want my memory to bless people, not hurt them. Help me follow you closely and treat others with kindness and respect. Show me the parts of my life that I need to change. Give me the courage to turn away from anything that isn’t good or pleasing to you.

Lord, let my life point others toward your goodness, even when I’m not around. Teach me to live simply and sincerely, so that the story I leave behind brings comfort and hope.

In Jesus’ name, 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.