Prairie Creek Fellowship

07/28/2026

Helping with some prep work for the Back to School Fair this Saturday. BillyAnn has it down to a science at the Open Bible Church. Char is working very hard. Feeling blessed to be able to help them.

07/26/2026

FAITH IN THE STORM
By Dave Lawless

Why does our faith waver when we face a storm? It is often easy to trust God when life is calm and everything seems to be going our way. Yet when trouble comes, fear can quickly take over. We imagine the worst, question what will happen next, and sometimes wonder if God will let us down. In those moments, the real struggle is not whether God is present, but whether we will trust Him while the storm is still raging.

In Luke 8, Jesus and His disciples were crossing a lake in a boat. While Jesus was asleep, a storm came upon them. The boat began filling with water, and the disciples were in real danger. These were experienced men, yet the crisis overwhelmed them. In fear, they woke Jesus and cried out for His help. Jesus rose, rebuked the wind and the waves, and brought calm to the lake. Then He turned to His disciples and asked a simple but powerful question: “Where is your faith?”
Sometimes we hear that question as an accusation, as if Jesus were only pointing out how little faith they had. But His question can also be understood as an invitation. He was calling them to place deeper reliance in Him. They had seen His teachings and His miracles. They had heard Him say they were going to the other side of the lake. Still, when the storm came, panic became louder than trust. Jesus was teaching them that faith is not proven only after the storm is over; faith is meant to hold on to Him while the storm is still around us.
This is where Psalm 46 speaks so clearly to the same struggle. The psalm begins, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” It does not say God is distant from trouble or only available after trouble has passed. It says He is present in it. The psalm continues with images of the earth giving way, mountains being moved into the sea, and waters roaring and foaming. In other words, Psalm 46 describes a world that feels unstable, frightening, and out of control. Yet even there, the believer is reminded, “Therefore will not we fear.”
The disciples in the boat were living through their own Psalm 46 moment. The waters were roaring, the boat was filling, and fear was rising. But the Lord was with them. The presence of Jesus in the boat did not mean the storm would never come; it meant they were not alone when it did. The same is true for us. Faith does not deny that storms are real. Faith remembers that God is more real than the storm.
We often think of the worst-case scenario when we face uncertainty. I am often guilty of this myself. But I once had someone tell me that when I see myself facing a challenge, I should not focus on the bad that might happen, but look for the good God may bring from the storm. That is a helpful way to think about faith. We sometimes measure a crisis using the scale of man, but God calls us to shift our focus to the scale of His sovereignty. Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” Being still does not mean pretending there is no danger. It means quieting the fear within us long enough to remember who God is.
How many times, after making it through a storm, have we looked back and asked, “Why was I so afraid?” or “Why did I worry so much?” Wouldn’t it be better to trust the Lord in the present rather than only in retrospect? Luke 8 and Psalm 46 both remind us that God is not absent in our fear. He is our refuge, our strength, and our very present help. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Because of that, we can face the storm with faith—not because the storm is small, but because our God is greater.

06/01/2026

Knitted by God
By: Dave Lawless

 This past week, while sitting in a small local café, having my coffee and panini, I witnessed a moment that has stayed with me. A young mother entered with two small children, one of them an infant perhaps six months old. As she lifted him from the stroller, I noticed a thin helmet-like device covering his tiny head from the nape of his neck to his forehead. I didn’t know his condition, but I could see the tenderness in the mother’s eyes as she held him close. It was a scene worthy of Norman Rockwell; a quiet portrait of love, sacrifice, and courage. As I watched, my thoughts drifted to my own grandchildren, especially the youngest, born with Cystic Fibrosis. I found myself wrestling with the question many of us carry in the quiet corners of our hearts: Why does God allow children, so innocent, so untouched by sin, to be born with disease or disabilities?
Scripture begins by reminding us that no child is an accident or an afterthought. Psalm 139 teaches that God knits each one together in the womb, knowing every detail of their bodies and every day of their lives. Their lives are sacred not because of their abilities, but because of their Creator. Jesus also made it clear that disabilities are not punishments. When asked why a man had been born blind, He replied that it was not due to anyone’s sin, but so that the works of God might be displayed in him. Throughout Scripture, God commands His people to honor, protect, and welcome those with physical or mental limitations, and Jesus Himself embraced children with tenderness and authority, declaring their value in the kingdom of God.
God often uses the smallest, most fragile lives to do the deepest work in ours. The Rev. Billy Graham told a story – “Many years ago, the world was touched by the short life of Robin, the daughter of Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. Born with borderline Down syndrome and a severe heart condition, she lived only two years, yet her life transformed her parents. A pastor once told them that children like Robin are sent to teach patience, compassion, and Christlike love. Dale later wrote Angel Unaware, describing how God used Robin to draw their family closer to Him. Roy Rogers himself became a new man because of her life.”
I’ve seen this same refining grace in my own family. The love, patience, and strength in my daughter and son in law have grown in ways I never saw before the birth of their two children—especially their son with Cystic Fibrosis. They may not fully see it, but I do. God is shaping them through their children.
Still, the hard question remains: Why doesn’t God prevent these things? The Bible tells us that sickness, disease, and death entered the world through sin, not personal sin, but the brokenness of a fallen creation. The deeper mystery is why God allows these things to continue. Scripture doesn’t give us a full explanation, but it does give us a model in Job. Job suffered without understanding why, yet he declared, “Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him,” and, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” Job didn’t have answers, but he had trust.
Ultimately, we must confess what Job confessed: we don’t know why God allows certain things. But we do know that God is good, loving, and merciful, and that He is present in suffering. One day, because of Jesus, there will be no more sickness, disease, or death. Until that day, we walk by faith, trusting the One who sent His Son to heal the deepest sickness of all. And we cling to Jesus’ words about the man born blind: “This happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.” May we have eyes to see that same truth in the fragile, beautiful lives God entrusts to us.

05/25/2026

Today-We Honor
By: Dave Lawless

Memorial Day invites us to pause and remember. It calls us to live out the words of Romans 13:7 by offering genuine honor to those who deserve it. Today we honor the men and women who gave their lives in service to our country. Their sacrifice was not distant or symbolic—it was deeply personal. They were sons and daughters, friends and neighbors, people with hopes and futures they willingly laid down so others could live in freedom.

Their courage reflects the kind of love Jesus spoke of—the love that puts others first, even at great cost. As we remember them, we do so with gratitude for the freedoms we enjoy and with a renewed desire to live lives marked by integrity, humility, and compassion. Honoring the fallen means more than remembering their names; it means choosing to live in a way that reflects the values they defended. It means praying for our nation, supporting those who serve today, and seeking peace in our homes, our communities, and our relationships. And above all, it means anchoring our hope in Christ, whose sacrifice brings a deeper and lasting freedom no earthly power can provide.

To the Americans who stepped forward when they were called, and to the brave men and women who gave their lives in service to this country, thank you. We hold close the families who carry that sacrifice every day, the parents who raised them, the siblings who miss them, the children who cherish their memory, and the spouses who live with both pride and heartbreak. Your sacrifice will never be forgotten. There are no words that can truly match what has been given or what has been lost. But with grateful hearts, we honor your courage, we remember your sacrifice, and we carry your memory with us today and always.
Today – We Remember

05/24/2026

Our condolences, love, and prayers are with Barbara Lowe's family and friends.

View Barbara Lee Lowe's obituary, send flowers, find service dates, and sign the guestbook.

05/04/2026

The Scoutmaster Minute
By: Dave Lawless

“For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted” (Matthew 23:12).

When I think about service to others and humility, my mind often returns to my years as a Boy Scout leader, when I had to learn the Boy Scout Oath, the Law, the slogan, and the motto. Each one pointed to the same core principle: humble service. The Oath calls a Scout “to help other people at all times,” the Law reminds him that “a Scout is helpful and kind,” the slogan urges him to “Do a Good Turn Daily,” and the motto challenges him to “Be prepared.” Scouting teaches that true leadership is not about personal glory but about empowering others, choosing service over self, and developing character in the silence where no applause exists. A Scout learns to ask, “What is best for other people?” and then act accordingly. The Boy Scout Oath itself is divided into three parts: duty to God, duty to others, and duty to self, and when we consider duty to God, humility becomes the foundation.

We honor God by recognizing His authority, obeying His commands, and serving others as an expression of our devotion. One of my greatest takeaways from serving others is the importance of doing it humbly. There is no need to advertise what we’ve done, donated, or tithed; God knows, and that is enough. A Christian stays humble by imitating Jesus Christ’s servant-hearted, self-sacrificing attitude, focusing on others rather than oneself, and submitting to God through prayer, confession, and recognizing that every blessing is a gift of grace.

We are encouraged not to act from selfish motives or pride: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others” (Philippians 2:3–4). Practically speaking, we stay humble by thanking God often, because gratitude suffocates pride. By accepting humiliation when it comes, remembering that Jesus Himself endured deep humiliation, and by refusing to chase status or connect with people merely to elevate ourselves. Humbling ourselves means examining our motives and bringing them before the Lord whenever we notice that our actions are designed to win approval or admiration. Sometimes humility also looks like letting go of our need to control the journey. Sometimes the things you don’t expect are what you really wanted after all, and sometimes the best thing to do is to stop trying to figure out where you’re going and just enjoy where you’re at. In all these ways, humility becomes not just a moment but a lifestyle, one that trusts God, serves others quietly, and finds joy in walking the path Jesus walked.

04/19/2026

Can God Beat the Odds?
By: Dave Lawless

Psalm 112:7 — “He will have no fear of bad news; his heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord.”

I was inspired to write this after reflecting on moments when I tried to fool myself into believing I could control every aspect of my life, only to realize how unpredictable circumstances can be. Many of us, myself included, have moments where we cling to the illusion of control, only to be reminded by unexpected events that life is full of surprises. I guess I learned this lesson the hard way when my siblings and I were dealing with our sick parents. Thinking we can control not only our circumstances, but theirs as well. It simply doesn't work that way; ultimately, we must surrender and trust in the one God who truly can.

Life has a way of confronting us with moments that shake our confidence. Sometimes it comes through a doctor’s call, a sudden crisis, or a situation that turns without warning. One moment we feel steady, and the next we’re staring at news we never expected. Suddenly the optimism we normally carry isn’t enough. We’re forced to wrestle with uncertainty, the kind that makes you whisper, What if this doesn’t turn out the way I hoped?

We’ve all been there. A financial setback. A family struggle. A prayer that seems unanswered. The odds don’t look good, and our hearts feel the weight of it.
Scripture never asks us to pretend the odds aren’t real. David didn’t deny Goliath’s size. Daniel didn’t ignore the lions. Paul didn’t overlook the chains on his wrists. Faith isn’t pretending everything is fine. Faith is choosing to look beyond what we can see and anchor ourselves in the God who sees more than we do. Psalm 112:7 gives us a picture of a heart that is steadfast, not because the news is good, but because the Lord is faithful. God never promises a life free from bad news. He promises His presence in the middle of it. He promises strength when ours runs out. He promises peace that doesn’t depend on outcomes.

One of the quiet strengths of walking through uncertainty is compassion. When we care deeply, we feel deeply — and that tenderness can make us feel vulnerable. But compassion is not weakness. Jesus Himself wept at Lazarus’s tomb. He entered human pain with open eyes and an open heart. Your compassion, your tears, your concern, your prayers are not signs of fragility. They are signs that the love of Christ is alive in you. And when the odds seem stacked against us, we remember this: God is not bound by statistics. He is not intimidated by percentages. He is not limited by what we cannot control. He works in the unseen. He moves in the impossible. He holds tomorrow when we can’t.

So, when the odds aren’t in your favor, lift your eyes. The God who holds the universe also holds you.

04/10/2026

“The God Who Meets Us in the Cave”
By: Dave Lawless

Bob sat in the back corner of a bustling coffee shop, earbuds in, laptop open, surrounded by people yet feeling completely unseen. Notifications buzzed, conversations hummed, and life moved around him, but none of it touched the ache inside. It was the same kind of quiet isolation David the Shepard felt in the cave: surrounded by noise, pressure, and expectations, yet painfully aware that no one truly understood the weight he carried. Bob wasn’t hiding from soldiers, but from deadlines, disappointments, and the fear that maybe no one really knew him. And like the shepherd-king centuries before him, he whispered a prayer into the silence, hoping God still heard lonely hearts in crowded rooms.

Loneliness is one of the most misunderstood human experiences. It doesn’t always look like isolation, and it certainly doesn’t require an empty room. A person can sit alone in peaceful stillness and feel deeply connected, while another can stand shoulder‑to‑shoulder with a crowd and feel invisible. That’s because loneliness is not about how many people are around us, it’s about whether our hearts feel seen, valued, and understood. It is an emotion born from a sense of separation, a quiet ache that whispers, “I don’t know where I belong right now.” David knew that ache well. Though anointed by God and surrounded by followers, he often felt forgotten, misunderstood, and painfully alone. His cave wasn’t just a hiding place; it was a symbol of the emotional distance he felt from others.

Loneliness is not cured by adding more people to the room but by discovering that Someone already sits with us in the shadows. That is the truth David clung to when human support faltered. It’s the same truth captured in the old hymn that has steadied believers for generations: “Friends may fail me, foes assail me, He is with me to the end.” Those words name what our hearts struggle to articulate, that Christ’s companionship does not rise and fall with circumstances. His presence is not fragile or conditional. It is the steady refuge that turns caves into sanctuaries.

And this is the hope that meets us in our own hidden places. Even when love feels distant or our hearts feel misplaced, God’s love has not slipped away. It surrounds us even when we cannot sense it, holds us when we feel unworthy, and whispers assurance into the quiet corners of our loneliness. In Christ, the cave is never the end of the story. His presence fills the emptiness, softens the echoes, and reminds us that even in the most crowded room, or the deepest cave, we are never unseen.

03/05/2026

“The Weight of Unanswered Prayers”
By Dave Lawless

Each morning, a man wakes to the same stubborn ache that refuses to loosen its hold, a reminder of the healing that still hasn’t come. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the familiar frustration rise, the weariness of fighting the same battle day after day, the longing for relief that seems just out of reach. Yet even in that tension, he steadies himself, breathes deeply, and reaches for the quiet courage that has carried him this far. He whispers prayers for healing, not just for his body, but for strength, patience, and hope—and then he puts on a smile. It isn’t a denial of the pain; it’s a declaration that he will not be defined by it. And in that small, faithful act, he chooses once again to meet the day with resilience and trust.

There are moments in the Christian life when you pray with all your heart for healing, for relief, for a breakthrough, and the answer seems to move in the opposite direction. You ask God to fix what hurts, but instead the road grows longer, the burden heavier, and the outcome more confusing. Paul understood this tension deeply. When he writes, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair,” he gives voice to the very real experience of praying faithfully and still watching life unfold in ways you never planned. Feeling perplexed does not mean you lack faith; it means you are human. And yet, Paul insists, we never give up. Not because we are strong, but because God is.

Paul describes us as fragile clay jars—ordinary, breakable, easily chipped. God could have chosen gold or marble to carry His message, but instead He chose vessels like us. Why? So that the strength people see is clearly not our own. The cracks in our lives become the very places where His light shines through. When you don’t know what to do next, when your prayers seem unanswered, when you feel pressed from every side, God is not asking you to be unbreakable. He is asking you to trust that His power is holding you together. You may feel confused, but you are not abandoned. You may feel struck down, but you are not destroyed. The miracle is not always that God removes the hardship—it’s that He sustains you through it. And in that quiet endurance, His glory is revealed.