The Goode Foundation

04/22/2026

01/19/2026

# # **DEVOTIONAL: WHEN LIFE DROPS YOU, GOD LIFTS YOU**

There are moments in life when the ground comes faster than we expect. One minute everything feels steady and predictable, and the next minute we find ourselves knocked forward, shaken, hurting in places we didn’t even know could hurt. Life has a way of humbling us without warning. It can take the strongest among us and remind us just how fragile we really are.

But here’s the truth I’ve learned over and over again:
**God does some of His best work in the moments that knock the wind out of us.**

When life hits hard, it’s not to destroy us. It’s to reveal what’s holding us up. Strength isn’t proven on the days when everything goes right. Strength is revealed when everything goes wrong and you’re still here, still breathing, still fighting, still trusting.

Pain has a way of stripping away the illusion that we’re in control. It reminds us that our bodies may fail, our plans may fall apart, and our pride may take a hit, but God never loses His grip on us. Even when we fall, we fall into His hands. Even when we’re shaken, we’re not abandoned. Even when we’re hurting, we’re still held.

And sometimes, the only thing we can do is laugh. Not because the moment is funny, but because joy is a weapon. Laughter is a reminder that pain doesn’t get the final say. Hope does. Faith does. God does.

So if you’re in a season where life has knocked you forward, slowed you down, or humbled you in ways you didn’t see coming, take heart. You’re not weak. You’re not failing. You’re not forgotten. You’re being carried.

God lifts what life drops.
God strengthens what pain weakens.
God restores what struggle tries to steal.

And even when your body feels tired, your spirit can stay undefeated.

Hold on. Breathe. Rise again.
You’re still here for a reason, and God is still holding you steady.

01/12/2026

Growing up, my mama didn’t play about facial expressions. If my face drifted even one millimeter toward disrespect, confusion, or mild stink-attitude, she’d hit me with the warning shot:

“Boy… fix your face.”

Now that wasn’t a suggestion. That was a countdown clock. Because if I didn’t fix it fast enough, my daddy would step in with what he lovingly referred to as “Some Act Right.” And let me tell you… Act Right had hands. Act Right had timing. Act Right did not need an explanation. 😭

So you learned early in the Goode household how to control your face like it was a government-issued weapon.

Fast-forward a few decades, and now I’m paralyzed and unable to speak. Which means my face has officially become my full-time spokesperson, customer service rep, translator, and sometimes HR department. My family reads my eyebrows like subtitles. One blink means yes. Two blinks means no. One raised eyebrow means “Are y’all serious right now?” And that slow squint means, “Somebody better get right with Jesus immediately.”

The other day I was mad about something — don’t ask what, because I honestly don’t even remember — but apparently my face sent out a winter storm warning. The temperature dropped in the house. Dogs started acting funny. Even the furniture leaned back a little. 🥶

Everybody went quiet. You could feel the chill.

Then here comes Sydney… our in-house comedian, emotional support clown, and certified chaos interrupter. She looks at me dead serious and says:

“Fix your face.”

The whole room LOST IT. 😂

Tanja and I looked at each other like, “When did we ever say that to our kids?” We don’t remember teaching that phrase. It just genetically activated itself. Apparently discipline travels through DNA.

And honestly, that phrase explains about 80% of all text message arguments in America.

You ever read a text and your face instantly twists into a pretzel? Your eyebrow climbs up your forehead. Your lips tighten like you just bit into a lemon soaked in disrespect. Your spirit says, “Now wait just a minute…”

Then the sender hits you back with:

“That’s not what I meant.”

And now you gotta sit there and manually reset your face like an old Wi-Fi router. Unplug. Breathe. Plug back in. Fix your face. 😅

But here’s the real part.

Every single morning I wake up with ALS, I have to fix my face on purpose. Because this disease will rob you of your joy if you let it. Bad moods will steal your peace. Holding onto anger will wrinkle your soul faster than your skin. And whether I’m happy, frustrated, thankful, tired, hopeful, or plotting mild revenge in my imagination — it’s written all over my face before I ever say a word.

My face tells on me like a snitch in witness protection.

So these days, fixing my face isn’t about avoiding “Some Act Right.”

It’s about choosing joy.

It’s about choosing grace.

It’s about not letting circumstances drive my expression.

Because whether good or bad, happy or sad…

Baby, your face gonna tell the whole story anyway. 😄

01/11/2026

Devotional: “Major League Grace”

Some folks attract blessings. Others attract drama. Me? I attract medical confessions. I don’t know why, but people feel safe unloading their aches and pains when they’re near me. Maybe it’s the wheelchair. Maybe it’s the trach. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m still smiling through ALS, EPI, and PV. Whatever it is, I’ve learned to laugh and listen—but also to lead.

Because here’s the truth: everybody’s got something. A sore knee, a stubborn headache, a heart that’s been broken too many times. But not everybody knows how to carry it with grace.

I’ve got conditions that could take me out. But I don’t let them take me over. I don’t announce my suffering to strangers like it’s breaking news. I save my breath for joy, for jokes, and for the people who need hope more than a health update.

So when someone asks how I’m doing, I could give them the full rundown. But instead, I choose to say, “I’m still here. Still fighting. Still laughing.” Because that’s the testimony.

God didn’t promise me a pain-free life. But He did promise His presence. And every time I roll my eyes at a new complaint, I remember: I’m not here to compete in the Ailment Olympics. I’m here to show what faith looks like in the major leagues.

So if you’re hurting today—physically, emotionally, spiritually—don’t just list your symptoms. Lift your spirit. Let your story be seasoned with hope. And remember: the same God who hears your complaints also holds your cure.

Scripture:

“The joy of the Lord is your strength.” — Nehemiah 8:10

Closing Thought:

You don’t have to be symptom-free to be spirit-full. Let your life preach louder than your pain.

12/30/2025

“Lost at Church, Found in Purpose”

From the Book of Kerry

Now I don’t know about y’all, but where I’m from, losing a child at church is the kind of story that gets retold at every family reunion till Jesus Himself comes back to correct the details. So when Mary and Joseph misplaced the actual Son of God at church, I feel like we need to sit with that a minute.

Jesus was twelve—old enough to know better, young enough to scare your parents half to death.

They were headed home after Passover, probably stuck in traffic, sandals kicked off, Joseph driving with that thousand-yard stare, when Mary said the words every married couple knows means panic is coming: “You got Him?”

They did not, in fact, have Him.

Luke says they searched for three days (Luke 2:44–46). THREE. DAYS. That’s not “He wandered off to the snack table.” That’s “posters on telephone poles.”

They finally found Jesus… at the temple. Sitting. Calm. Talking theology with religious scholars like He had a study Bible and a podcast.

Scripture says “everyone who heard Him was amazed at His understanding and His answers” (Luke 2:47). Which tells me this wasn’t cute kid curiosity—this was authority peeking out early.

Mary, understandably, was not amazed. She was stressed.

She said, “Why have you treated us like this?” (Luke 2:48). Which is the most polite version of “Do you know what you put us through?” ever recorded.

And Jesus—sweet, brilliant, slightly oblivious Jesus—said, “Didn’t you know I had to be about My Father’s business?” (Luke 2:49).

Now listen. That answer would not have worked on my mama.

But here’s the part that gets me: after that moment—after revealing who He really was—Jesus went home and obeyed them. Luke says He was “subject to them” (Luke 2:51).

Let that sink in.

The King of Kings submitted to bedtime, chores, and probably Mary saying, “Because I said so.”

Jesus knew who He was, but He also knew timing mattered.

And that comforts me, because sometimes God shows us a glimpse of our purpose long before we’re ready to live it out. Jesus Himself had a calling before He had permission.

So if you feel ahead of schedule—if God has stirred something big in you but told you to wait—congratulations. You’re in good company.

Jesus waited too.

12/25/2025

Born in the Hood



From the Book of Kerry

Before anybody gets offend and before yall come for me... God has a funny way of teaching lessons because this right here is Nativity: Hood Edition, and it’ll bless you and crack you up at the same time. 😄

Picture Mary and Joseph in the attached photo. No glowing stable. No hay neatly arranged. No Away-in-a-Manger playlist softly playing in the background. Nope. Baby Jesus enters the world in the back seat of an old, rusty, beat-up car sitting on blocks—hood gone, paint peeling, upholstery screaming tetanus.

Basically, a manger… with wheels that gave up in ’92.

Mary is laid out in the back seat hollering, “OH GOD!”—which, honestly, is still the most accurate birth plan ever recorded in Scripture. Joseph is outside pacing like a teenager who just realized Google ain’t got answers for miracles, yelling into his phone, “HELLO 9-1-1, I NEED HELP!”

And heaven’s response? “You will name him Jesus…”

Joseph pauses. “Sir… I asked for an ambulance.”

Meanwhile Sister Jenkins—because EVERY miracle needs a church mother—snatches that baby up like she’s been waiting her whole life for this moment and declares, “IT’S A BOY!” with more confidence than an angel choir.

Now let’s talk about how this would go down today.

If somebody posted on Facebook: “Baby born in an abandoned car on blocks,” the comments would be ruthless.

Why didn’t they go to the hospital? That’s irresponsible. Call CPS. That baby deserves better. Who let this happen?

Back then? Same energy. Just less Wi-Fi.

People saw a baby laid in a manger and thought: That ain’t holy—that’s homeless. That ain’t divine—that’s desperate. That ain’t a king—that’s a crisis.

Fast-forward to this scene: a newborn wrapped up in a blanket that smells like motor oil and prayer. Dogs, cats, and rats gather like they KNOW something big just happened. Because sometimes animals recognize glory faster than people do.

And coming down the street? Three “wise men”—folks society would scroll past today without a second glance. No gold chains, no camel caravans. Just men carrying what they have, showing up because the star said, “Go.”

That’s the part we forget.

God didn’t upgrade the setting. He upgraded the meaning.

Same miracle. Different backdrop.

Jesus wasn’t born where people expected—then OR now. And after the birth? Folks still whispered. Still doubted. Still side-eyed Mary like, “That story sound… convenient.”

If it happened today, we’d miss it too. We’d be too busy judging the car, the parents, the situation, the location.

But God has never needed ideal conditions—just availability.

So here we are: a Savior born not in comfort, but in chaos. Not in luxury, but in love.

Turns out… A junked-out car on blocks ain’t that different from a manger.

And miracles? They still show up in the most unexpected places.

12/19/2025

Devotional: “Be Where Your Feet Are”

By Kerry Goode

Let me share something the Lord keeps teaching me: presence is holy. Not dramatic, not complicated—just the simple act of showing up with your whole heart. In a world full of noise, screens, and endless distractions, being fully present has become a rare gift. But for some of us, it’s not just a gift… it’s a lifeline.

Every day, I’m reminded that life can shift in a breath. Literally. And when you depend on others, you learn quickly that attention is not optional. It’s stewardship. It’s ministry. It’s love in action.

Scripture says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” Stillness isn’t just about quieting your spirit before Him—it’s also about quieting your mind for the people He’s placed in your care. When we’re scattered, divided, or half‑present, we miss the subtle cues, the gentle signals, the moments that matter. And sometimes, those moments are the difference between comfort and fear, safety and danger, dignity and disregard.

I’ve learned that the greatest gift we can give each other is undivided attention. Not perfection. Not superhuman strength. Just the willingness to be fully here—eyes open, spirit alert, heart engaged.

Because presence says, “You matter.”

Presence says, “I see you.”

Presence says, “You’re not alone.”

And isn’t that exactly what God says to us?

So today, I encourage you—whether you’re a caregiver, a parent, a spouse, a friend, or simply a human sharing space with another human—put down whatever pulls you away from the moment. Be where your feet are. Honor the breath in your lungs and the life in front of you.

Scroll later.

Serve now.

Love now.

Notice now.

Because someone near you might be counting on your presence more than you realize.

And trust me… they see you.

12/01/2025

“The Calling Never Quits”

There comes a point in life when you realize that true leadership isn’t a title — it’s a calling. It’s not something you retire from, walk away from, or set aside when life gets heavy. Real leadership is who you are even when no one is watching, even when the playbook has changed, and even when the body can’t do what it used to.

God has a way of placing responsibility on our shoulders long before we understand why. And sometimes it isn’t clear until the storms roll in. Illness may change your strength, circumstances may change your routine, and challenges may change the way you move — but none of that changes the purpose God planted inside you.

Leadership in the Kingdom isn’t about control; it’s about character. It’s about showing grace under pressure, calm in chaos, and courage when the winds start to howl. It’s about standing firm when life hits hard and saying, “I may bend, but I won’t break — because God is with me.”

In seasons of struggle, your family, your friends, and even your community look to you — not for perfection, but for presence. They aren’t asking you to save the day; they just want to know you still believe the One who can. Your posture of faith becomes the example they follow.

And that’s the beauty of God’s design: He strengthens the leader even when the leader feels weak.

Scripture reminds us, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

You may not be able to run the field anymore, but you can set the tone. You can set the atmosphere. You can set the example. Leadership now looks like choosing joy, choosing gratitude, choosing faith, choosing hope — even while navigating pain, fear, or uncertainty.

Anyone can lead when life is easy. But when storms rise, when waves hit the boat, when the alarms go off — that’s when God reveals the leaders He’s been shaping all along.

So stand firm. Speak life. Keep showing up.

Because when God calls you to lead…

you lead in sunshine, you lead in storms, and you lead until He says the journey is done.

Once a leader — always a leader.

09/16/2025

ALS may have taken my voice, but it didn’t take my sense of humor—or my ability to stir up chaos from the comfort of my wheelchair. I’ve become a silent prankster, a mute mischief-maker, and a lip-sync legend. I call it “Lip Sync Football”—because every mouth movement is a strategic play, and I’m always going for the touchdown.

Now, I’ve got a computer that lets me type what I want to say, but by the time I finish typing “Hey Eddie, you’ve got mustard on your shirt,” he’s already deep into a conversation about aliens, barbecue sauce, and whether Bigfoot plays fantasy football. So I mouth my words instead.

Problem is, Tanja and Eddie are the worst lip-readers in the history of caregiving. If lip-reading were a sport, they’d be benched. Permanently. I could mouth “Help me, I’m on fire,” and they’d respond with, “You want chitlins nachos?”

But here’s where the fun begins.

I noticed the more I mouth words, the closer they get—like detectives trying to crack the Da Vinci Code on my lips. This morning, I decided to test the theory. I started moving my mouth like I was giving a halftime speech to a team of confused squirrels. No sound. No real words. Just pure lip gymnastics.

They stared. I stared. I kept mouthing. They crept in like CSI agents examining a crime scene. At one point, they were so close I could’ve bit both their ears off like Mike Tyson at a buffet.

Finally, they gave up. Tanja looked at Eddie. Eddie looked at Tanja. “You know what he said?” “Nope.” And then they did what most people do when they can’t decode me—they walked away like they just failed a pop quiz.

But I wasn’t done.

Now, instead of getting frustrated, I’ve turned it into a game. I mouth whatever I want—usually something ridiculous about the person in front of me. Yesterday, I mouthed, “Your forehead looks like it’s trying to escape your face.” Eddie leaned in, nodded solemnly, and said, “I know, man. Life’s hard.”

I mouthed, “Tanja’s hair looks like it’s auditioning for a tornado.” She squinted, tilted her head, and replied, “You need suctioning?”

I’m not just surviving ALS—I’m silently roasting my loved ones with style. I still have jokes. And trust me, practical jokes don’t need sound to land.

And the best part?

They still think they’re helping.

07/14/2025

On September 12th, during the weekend of the Alabama vs. Wisconsin game, the Bryant Museum will host a powerful and heartfelt unveiling of “Steadfast and Unmovable,” a new original portrait by renowned artist Steve R. Skipper.

This event celebrates the life and legacy of Kerry Goode, whose journey has inspired countless lives both on and off the field. Painted under the creative guidance of Jesus Christ, Skipper’s masterpiece honors Kerry’s enduring strength and spiritual witness, a life not defined by diagnosis, but by purpose, resilience, and unwavering faith.

“Steadfast and Unmovable” captures more than athletic excellence, it reflects a heart forged in Town Creek and now felt around the world, igniting fire in the hearts of millions. Kerry’s story, rooted in grace and grit, stands as a living testimony to how power is made perfect in what others might consider weakness.

A beloved running back, yes, but even more, an incredible husband, father, brother, friend, and ambassador of hope. Like a tree planted by the rivers of living water, his legacy will continue to flow, to inspire, and to uplift.

Join us for this extraordinary unveiling, a moment where art meets faith, and tribute meets transformation.