Our guests savored their meals at Christmas. They slowed down, lingered with one another, and let the evening unfold with warmth and gratitude.
And we savored it, too.
Savor. That word has stayed with me. To savor is to enjoy something slowly — a bite, a moment, a truth — and to receive its goodness with intention.
Yesterday, just before church, I had to run home for something I had forgotten. I looked for my son to come with me, and there he was… standing still, facing west, no phone in hand, soaking in a sky ablaze with red.
He wasn’t going to miss it. He savored it. And in that quiet, he wondered aloud how God commands wavelengths of light — shorter here, longer there.
While I was racing, he was receiving.
When we savor what God places before us, something shifts. We become present. Awake to wonder. Scripture says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)
Stillness isn’t an empty pause. It’s receptivity. It’s worship.
We can keep hustling through beauty… or pause long enough to be awestruck — to let a moment lead us toward gratitude, connection, truth, even a renewed sense of God’s nearness. Savoring is a spiritual discipline, a way of honoring the gifts right in front of us. And often, it’s in the savoring that joy returns and peace settles in.
This week, before the new year, you’ll savor recipes and gatherings. My hope is that you also savor the conversations, the pauses, the unexpected beauty — the presence of God woven through it all.
Rachael Jones (adapted)