By Reed Kirkman
•
October 29, 2026
SCRIPTURE Romans 2.17-29 (The Inclusive Bible) Now, if you place your confidence in your religious identity, if you rely on your understanding of God’s teachings and take pride in your relationship with God. WORDS OF HOPE National Cat Day Lions, tigers, and tabby cats?? Today is National Cat Day, and I’m convinced God has a sense of humor. I imagine God winking: “Yes. This is how I intended it to be.” Cats are affectionate, stubborn, dramatic, and ridiculous. They race through apartments, ponder empty walls, then curl into sunlight. Perhaps we need creatures who remind us to laugh and slow down. We buy expensive toys, only for cats to declare a cardboard box the greatest gift imaginable. Apparently, I don’t decorate my apartment; my cat, Nelson does. Maybe there’s theology here. We chase what is impressive, forgetting joy in simple things. Sometimes the cardboard box is enough. I’m convinced God created cats to make sure gravity exists. Pens, cups, phones, anything near an edge becomes an experiment. Newton had an apple. I have Nelson. My orange tuxedo cat believes gravity requires lifelong research. Perhaps cats are secretly liquid. How else can they curl into balls, become loaves, and squeeze into impossible spaces? Nelson tests physics daily and keeps humans humble. Nelson depends on me for food, water, shelter, and affection, but I depend on him for companionship, laughter, and comfort. When he rubs against me, I imagine him saying, “Of all the humans in the world, this one is mine.” Nelson is my unofficial therapist, philosopher, comedian, treat inspector, computer supervisor, guru, and occasional menace. This may be my apartment, but it’s Nelson’s home. I pay the rent. He apparently owns the place. Perhaps cats can teach us to rest. We live in a culture that measures worth by productivity, where sitting still can feel like failure. Meanwhile, a cat sleeps for hours without guilt. Rest is not laziness. Joy is not frivolous. We are human beings, not productivity machines. When Nelson curls beside me and purrs, I remember I can stop, breathe, and simply be. His purr becomes a soundtrack for Sabbath. One of my favorite saints is Saint Gertrude of Nivelles, a seventh-century abbess in what is now Belgium. She devoted herself to prayer, hospitality, and caring for the poor and travelers. Her association with cats developed through later tradition. Her story reminds me holiness isn’t about escaping everyday life; it’s about meeting life with generosity and care. Love is rarely tidy, and grace rarely arrives on schedule. The sacred doesn’t always announce itself with stained glass or choirs. Sometimes it arrives with four paws, whiskers, a loud purr, and a ridiculous sleeping position. Compassion can mean welcoming a stranger, helping a neighbor, or sitting beside an animal. Today, I’m grateful for cats, especially Nelson, my orange tuxedo philosopher. I’m grateful for the laughter, toys, zoomies, gravity experiments, naps, and purrs. Creation reminds us love needs not be grand to be real, and holiness needs not be complicated to be profound. Sometimes holiness has whiskers. Sometimes grace has four paws. Sometimes wisdom comes in an orange-and-white package covered in fur. When Nelson purrs beside me, I imagine God whispering, “See? There is still joy here today.” PRAYER God of all creation, thank you for the cats who teach us to laugh, rest, wonder, and love. Bless the animals who share our lives and comfort us when we need it. Hold close those we have loved and lost, and help us notice the sacredness in every purr, every raised tail, and every moment of companionship. Amen. DEVOTION AUTHOR Reed Kirkman