Scattered Moments
Brief reflections on faith, adversity, and the quiet places where grace appears.
Each episode of Scattered Moments is a brief journey through the unexpected classrooms where God does His deepest work — hospital rooms and sanctuaries, seasons of grief and flashes of joy, the ordinary moments where grace shows up and changes everything.
Drawing from over forty years of writing, ministry, and life in the trenches, Matt Tullos weaves together original poetry, hymn stories, Scripture, and honest reflection to remind you that even adversity, you are not alone.
Three Types of Episodes:
Scattered Moments: Brief Reflections on Faith, Adversity and the Quiet Places
Guided Meditations: Opportunities to Encounter God through Meditation
Moments Almanac: Released Every Morning, Reflecting on the Meaning of Each Day,
Take heart, notice the scattered moments, and share the grace.
Scattered Moments
May 30, 2026: Moments Almanac | Joan
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On May 30, 1431, a nineteen-year-old peasant girl from a small village in France was burned at the stake in the marketplace of Rouen. Her name was Joan of Arc. And her last word was not a cry of despair — but a name.
Jesus.
In this episode of the Moments Almanac, we pause at one of the most remarkable lives in Christian history. A young woman who heard the voice of God, obeyed at enormous cost, and faced her ending with a stillness that still defies explanation.
Featuring Psalm 23:4, a lyric from the hymn Be Still My Soul, and voices from three centuries — Joan herself, George Bernard Shaw, and the poet John Donne — all bearing witness to the same unshakeable truth:
Death, thou shalt die.
Hello and welcome to the Moments Almanac on Scattered Moments. It's a quiet pause to remember the people, words, and moments that still leave fingerprints on the soul. And on this day in 1431, a nineteen year old peasant girl from a small village in France was burned at the stake in the marketplace of Rouen. Her name was Joan of Arc. She had heard the voice of God, she said, beginning when she was thirteen years old, and what she heard called her to do the impossible, to lead an army, to crown a king, to save friends. She obeyed, and it cost her everything. What strikes me most about Joan isn't the battle she'd won. It's the stillness at the center of her. She was questioned by bishops, mocked by soldiers, abandoned by the king she helped crown. And through it all, she held to what she heard in the quiet. When asked during her trial if she knew she was in God's grace, she answered, If I am not, may God put me there, and if I am, may God so keep me. It's one of the most disarming answers in the history of human speech. She didn't argue, she didn't perform certainty that she didn't have. She simply entrusted herself, and in that moment she was more free than any of her accusers. Our verse for the day, Psalm 23, 4, you know it. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Not around the valley, not above it, through it. Joan walked through the darkest valley imaginable, and the one who had spoken to her as a child did not abandon her at the end. From the hymn, Be still my soul. Be still my soul, thy God doth undertake to guide the future as he has the past. Another word about Joan. Joan reportedly said near the end, I am not afraid, I was born to do this, not provado, not performance, just a soul who had learned over the years of listening to trust the one who called her. And George Bernard Shaw, who wrote the celebrated play about her life, put these words in her mouth, and they may be the truest thing anyone has ever said about her. In his strength, I will dare and dare and dare until I die. Shaw invented the line, but Joan lived it. Most of us will never face anything like Joan faced, but we know what it is to hear something in the quiet, a nudge, a conviction, a call, and then wonder if we imagined it. We know what it is to obey and to have it cost. We know what it is to be understood for what we believe. Joan of Art doesn't belong only to France. She belongs to every soul who has ever chosen faithfulness over safety. Four hundred years before Joan stood at the stake, the poet John Dunn wrote words she seemed to already know in her bones. Death be not proud, though some have called thee mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so. One short sleep passed, we wake eternally, and death shall be no more. Death, thou shalt die. Joan knew this. That's why she could burn. That's why her last word is not a cry of despair, but a name. Jesus. A prayer for today. Lord, you speak in voices we can barely hear, in scripture in stillness, in the nudge of conscience. In the counsel of the faithful, give us courage to listen, give us courage to obey, and when obedience is costly, remind us that you have never abandoned a soul who trusted you. Be near to those who are walking through dark valleys today. Let them feel your presence more than they feel their fear. Amen. That's today's Moments Almanac. Hope you'll join me tomorrow. Until then, take care. Notice the scattered moments and share the grace.
