All posts by mjharvell

Welcome, friend—I’m glad you’ve pulled up a chair on the front porch of my little corner of the internet. My name is Michael Joe Harvell, and I live my life with one simple mission: to glorify God, encourage people, and leave this world a little better than I found it. I’m a husband, father, pastor, writer, Jeep enthusiast, and front-porch thinker who believes that life is best lived on purpose. I serve as pastor of Eureka Baptist Church in Anderson, South Carolina, where I get the joy of preaching, teaching, and walking with people through the ups and downs of everyday life. Over the years, I’ve discovered that faith isn’t just about Sunday mornings—it’s about living every single day in the presence and power of God. I’m also an author. My books—including The Grace Exchange: How Forgiven People Forgive People and The Word Works—grow out of the sermons, stories, and lessons I’ve learned on this journey. I write in a style that’s conversational, a little front-porch-rocking-chair, and full of stories, quotes, and Scripture that point us back to the goodness of God’s Word. When I’m not writing or preaching, you might find me sitting outside with my Bible and journal, cruising the backroads in my Jeep Gladiator, or sharing a meal and some laughs with the good folks God has put in my life. I love helping people find peace in their spirit, strength in their body, and encouragement in their soul. This blog is simply an extension of that mission. Here you’ll find devotions, encouragement, reflections, and practical insights for living a life of purpose, peace, and joy. So grab a cup of coffee, pull up a rocking chair, and stay awhile—I’d be honored to walk this road of faith with you.
grace, life, Poem

Whose That Old Man Staring At Me?

When I look in the mirror, I see a face,
Worn by time, weathered by grace.
Eyes like rivers, deep and slow,
Tracing the miles of where I’ve been and where I’ll go.

Once a young man, full of dreams and fire,
Now an old man with a heart of quiet desire.
Wrinkles tell stories, lines carved by years,
Each one a reminder of joy and of tears.

Hair, now silver like mountain snow,
A crown earned through valleys and peaks below.
These hands, they’ve labored, they’ve built, they’ve prayed,
And this back has carried the burdens I made.

I see the youth that once ran wild and free,
Chasing horizons and climbing every tree.
Now I walk slower, with a wisdom grown still,
Finding beauty in each moment, a life fulfilled.

For age is not a thief; it’s a friend in disguise,
Teaching me to cherish, to love, to realize.
So I nod to that old man staring back at me,
And thank him for the journey—wild, long, and free.

-MJHarvell