Daily Reflections From God's Word

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  • Divine Disruptions – Day 4

    Divine Disruptions – Day 4

    Pharaoh: When Pride Outlives the Plagues

    📖 “But Pharaoh hardened his heart at this time also…” — Exodus 8:32 (NKJV)

    Pharaoh didn’t miss what God was saying.
    He just didn’t like what it required.

    And that’s what makes his story so dangerous—it shows us that spiritual blindness isn’t always about ignorance. Sometimes it’s about arrogance.

    God didn’t start small with Pharaoh. He sent Moses with a simple but loaded message:

    “Let My people go.”
    Pharaoh’s response? “Who is the Lord, that I should obey His voice?” (Exodus 5:2)

    And right there, the line was drawn.
    Pharaoh didn’t just reject the message—he rejected the authority behind it.

    🔥 Then the disruption began.

    God sent plagues.
    Not just natural disasters, but direct attacks on the Egyptian gods—each plague a divine dismantling of Egypt’s pride, power, and control.

    • The Nile turned to blood—a death blow to Egypt’s economy and spirituality.
    • Frogs swarmed their homes.
    • Dust became lice.
    • Disease struck their livestock.
    • Boils covered their bodies.
    • Hail pounded their crops.
    • Locusts devoured what was left.
    • Darkness covered the land.
    • And finally, death entered every Egyptian home.

    Nine chances to bow.
    Nine divine warnings to surrender.
    And yet… Pharaoh hardened his heart. Again. And again. And again.

    “And the Lord hardened Pharaoh’s heart…” (Exodus 9:12)

    That verse shakes me. Because it’s not just that Pharaoh resisted—God eventually confirmed it.

    God gave Pharaoh opportunity after opportunity to repent.
    But Pharaoh was more committed to being right than being righteous.
    He didn’t want to lose control.
    He didn’t want to look weak.
    He didn’t want to give up the throne.

    So God gave him over to the very pride he refused to let go.

    ⚠️ Here’s the warning that hits us today:

    You can be surrounded by miracles… and still choose rebellion.
    You can feel conviction… and still ignore it.
    You can see God working… and still harden your heart.

    Divine disruptions are supposed to wake us up.
    But if we resist long enough, they stop being invitations—and become judgments.

    Pharaoh’s stubbornness didn’t just cost him personally.
    It broke a nation.
    His army drowned. His people suffered. His name became synonymous with rebellion.

    And here’s the moment that seals it:

    Pharaoh’s story doesn’t end in repentance.
    It ends in a watery grave—at the bottom of the very sea those he pursued had just walked through.
    Because sometimes, what we chase in rebellion… becomes the very thing that destroys us.

    He watched the people of God walk through freedom—and followed them into judgment.

    🙏 Reflection:

    • Have I confused God’s patience with His approval?
    • What repeated disruptions have I been writing off as coincidence?
    • Is my pride blinding me to the cost of disobedience?

    When God doesn’t have your attention, He’ll disturb what does.
    Just ask Pharaoh.

  • Divine Disruptions – Day 2

    Divine Disruptions – Day 2

    Dagon Falls: When God Topples What You Worship

    📖 “And when they arose early the next morning, there was Dagon, fallen on its face to the earth before the ark of the Lord.” — 1 Samuel 5:4 (NKJV)

    When the Philistines captured the ark of God, they thought they had won.

    They carried the symbol of Israel’s God into their territory, placed it inside the temple of their god, Dagon, and essentially said:
    “We’ll just add Him to our collection.”

    They didn’t deny God’s power—they just tried to place it alongside their own preferences. Their own comfort. Their own familiar system of worship.

    But the next morning?

    Dagon was face-down on the ground.

    So what did they do?

    They stood him back up.

    The next morning?

    Dagon was face-down again—head and hands broken off.

    This is what happens when we try to mix holy and profane.
    This is what happens when we treat God like He’s one of many options.
    This is what happens when we think we can contain the presence of the Lord on our own terms.

    God does not share space with idols.

    He never has. He never will.

    💥 And today?

    Dagon still falls.

    When you invite God into your life for real—for more than comfort, more than Sunday service, more than lip-service—He will challenge what you’ve propped up in His place.

    He’ll disturb your routine.
    He’ll expose your idols.
    He’ll topple what you’ve been relying on instead of Him.

    Maybe it’s a toxic relationship.
    Maybe it’s a career that became your identity.
    Maybe it’s money. Or pride. Or control. Or convenience.

    And when it falls—don’t rush to prop it back up.

    Let it fall.
    Let the idol die.
    Let God show you that He alone is worthy of the throne.

    🙏 Questions to Consider:

    • What “Dagon” have I allowed to stand beside God in my life?
    • Am I angry that it fell—or relieved that God didn’t let me keep it?
    • What would happen if I finally let the idol stay broken?

    When God steps into a place, the false gods don’t get to keep standing.

    He’s not cruel. He’s holy.
    And holiness will always confront compromise.

    📌 Closing Line:

    “When God doesn’t have your attention, He’ll disturb what does.”
    Just ask Dagon.

  • Divine Disruptions – Day 1

    Jonah: When God Sends a Storm

    📖 “But the Lord sent out a great wind on the sea…” — Jonah 1:4 (NKJV)

    Jonah didn’t misunderstand God. He wasn’t unsure about his calling.
    He just didn’t like it.

    God said, “Arise, go to Nineveh…”
    Jonah said, “No thanks,” and ran the other way.

    This wasn’t fear—it was flat-out rebellion. Jonah didn’t want Nineveh spared. He didn’t want them forgiven. He hated them. He knew God would be merciful, and he didn’t want mercy for people he couldn’t stand.

    So he fled. Booked a ship. Headed to Tarshish like he could outrun the voice of God.

    But when Jonah ran, God didn’t chase him with silence.
    He chased him with a storm.

    “But the Lord sent out a great wind…”

    That one line says everything.

    The storm wasn’t from Satan. It wasn’t from sin.
    It was from God.

    A holy disruption. A divine intervention.
    A perfectly timed, unavoidable wake-up call.

    Jonah’s rebellion didn’t just affect him. His disobedience threatened the lives of everyone on that boat. That’s the thing about sin—it’s never private. It always has fallout. Always spills over onto the innocent. Always causes someone else to wonder, “Why is this happening?”

    But even as the boat rocked and the crew panicked, Jonah knew.
    He said, “I serve the God who made the sea.”
    He knew who was behind the wind.

    And here’s the grace in it all:
    God had already prepared a fish.

    The fish wasn’t judgment. It was protection.
    It was messy. It was uncomfortable. It stank. But it kept him alive and brought him back.

    That’s what God’s disruptions often feel like:
    Unpleasant. Inconvenient. Humbling.
    But merciful.

    He’ll interrupt your plans to protect your calling.
    He’ll break your boat before He lets you self-destruct.

    🙏 So here’s the question for today:

    • Are you running from something you’ve been clearly called to do?
    • Have others started to feel the weight of your decisions?
    • Could it be that the storm isn’t meant to crush you—but to bring you home?

    Jonah’s story reminds us that God doesn’t give up just because we do.
    He’ll shake the sea. He’ll send the storm. He’ll even prepare the fish.
    Because the call doesn’t get canceled just because you ran from it.

    He still wants you.
    Storm, scars, and all.

    📌 Closing Line:

    “When God doesn’t have your attention, He’ll disturb what does.”
    Just ask Jonah.

  • The Plastic Chair Was Never the Problem

    Key Scripture:
    “And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” — John 8:32 (NKJV)
    “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” — Romans 12:2b (NKJV)

    I came across an image recently that caught me off guard—and convicted me more than I’d like to admit.

    It was a horse. Big, strong, muscular. But it was standing still, tied by a rope to a flimsy plastic lawn chair. That horse could’ve broken free without even trying. But it didn’t. Not because it couldn’t—but because it believed it was bound.

    And right then, I saw myself.

    For the past month, I’ve allowed distractions to pull me away from the very disciplines that gave me life—prayer, time in the Word, pouring truth into others through every platform God gave me. One small excuse turned into a week. One neglected moment of prayer turned into silence. Then came the guilt. The disappointment. The rope.

    Not one of those things—distraction, laziness, or even failure—was stronger than my calling or the presence of God in my life. But somewhere in my head, I gave them that power. I started believing that I had to feel on fire to be faithful. I told myself I needed to wait until I was inspired, until life calmed down, until I “got it together.”

    But that was the rope talking. That was the plastic chair.

    Jesus didn’t die and rise again to set us halfway free. The bondage we face now isn’t always external. Sometimes, it’s just a lie we’ve believed for too long.

    And that’s where the real battle is won: not just by cutting the rope—but by renewing the mind that believed it held us.

    Romans 12:2 doesn’t say we’re transformed by doing better. It says we’re transformed by the renewing of our mind. That’s where it starts. That’s where the chair loses its grip.

    So here I am—coming back to the things I’ve neglected. Not because I feel worthy, but because I now see the truth. The enemy will try to convince us we’re too far gone. That God’s disappointed. That we’re disqualified.

    But listen to me: that chair has no power.

    The truth is that God is waiting—not with condemnation, but with open arms.
    The truth is that freedom isn’t earned, it’s claimed.
    The truth is that your calling doesn’t evaporate when you get distracted.
    It waits—right where you left it.

    Reflection Questions:

    1. What lies have I believed about myself that are keeping me tied down?
    2. Where have I allowed distractions to become spiritual chains?
    3. What truth do I need to replace those lies with today?

    Closing Prayer:
    Father, I confess that I’ve allowed myself to become entangled in lies and distractions. I’ve believed the rope was real, even when You’ve already given me freedom. Help me today to renew my mind—to replace the lies with truth. I want to walk in the freedom Jesus died to give me. Pull me back into the disciplines I’ve neglected, and meet me in that place. I’m coming home. In Jesus’ name, amen.

  • Nearer Than You’ve Ever Dreamed

    Fifteen years ago, I received a phone call from a friend in what I can only describe as a full-blown spiritual crisis. Through tears and strained silence, she confessed things she thought disqualified her from God’s presence: sexual sin, rebellion, alcohol abuse, and a string of regrets. Her voice cracked as she asked, “Does God even see me anymore? Can He still hear me?”

    Truth be told, I didn’t have the right words in that moment. So I did what I always do when I feel helpless—I prayed, then turned to Scripture. The story of the prodigal son in Luke 15:11-32 brought comfort. That image of a father running to his broken, returning son never fails to bring me to tears.

    Later, I picked up Max Lucado’s Come Thirsty, and this fictional yet spiritually potent scene caught my eye. Jesse, a Christ-figure, finds Meagan in a cafe. She’s exhausted, emotionally wrecked, and burdened by shame. She spills out her story—a series of poor choices that left her feeling used and discarded. Then she asks: “Where’s God in all this?”

    Jesse leans in and replies, “Nearer than you’ve ever dreamed.”

    This is the heart of the gospel.

    Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) declares,

    “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.”

    And Isaiah 55:6-7 (NKJV) urges,

    “Seek the Lord while He may be found, call upon Him while He is near. Let the wicked forsake his way… and He will have mercy… for He will abundantly pardon.”

    We serve a God who draws near to the broken.

    Not just the polished or the cleaned-up.

    Not just the Sunday best version.

    But the tear-streaked, regret-heavy, “I’m barely holding it together” version.

    Maybe this is you today. Maybe you’re wondering, like my friend once did, if God still sees you. If He’s still listening. Let me remind you: He is. He always has been.

    He is nearer than you’ve ever dreamed.

    When have you felt far from God? What reminded you of His nearness?

    Share your story below. Someone else might need your honesty today.

  • When Obedience Makes No Sense: Marching Through the Impossible

    Scripture focus: “You will not need to fight in this battle. Position yourselves, stand still and see the salvation of the Lord…” (2 Chronicles 20:17, NKJV)

    The Bible is packed with stories that, if we’re being honest, sound like they should’ve ended in disaster. People facing impossible odds, following battle plans that would never fly in a military strategy room—and somehow walking away victorious. Why? Because God was the one calling the shots.

    Let’s start at the Red Sea. The children of Israel—more than 600,000 men, plus women and children—had finally escaped Egypt. But they were trapped between the uncrossable Red Sea and Pharaoh’s pursuing army. No weapons. No escape route. No time. But instead of rallying the people to arms, Moses said something crazy: “Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord” (Exodus 14:13). Then God parted the waters. The people walked through on dry land. And when Pharaoh’s army followed, the sea closed in behind them.

    That’s not strategy. That’s sovereignty.

    And then there’s Jericho. A fortified city with high walls and strong defenses. Any human general would’ve planned a siege. But God gave Joshua a blueprint that sounded like a children’s game: walk around the city once a day for six days in total silence. Then on the seventh day, march around seven times. Blow the trumpets. Shout. That’s 13 total laps around the city.

    Now pause for a second. The number 13 has a bad reputation. The world calls it unlucky. Some elevators skip the 13th floor. People talk about Friday the 13th like it’s cursed. But let this sink in: God used 13 laps—that “unlucky” number—to bring down the walls of one of the strongest cities in the Promised Land.

    Let the world call it bad luck. We call it divine design.

    It doesn’t stop there. Gideon started with 32,000 men to fight the Midianites. But God trimmed it down to 10,000… then just 300 men—armed not with swords, but with trumpets, torches, and clay pitchers. Judges 7:12 says the enemy was “as numerous as locusts; and their camels… as the sand by the seashore.” That’s not just outnumbered. That’s outmatched, overwhelmed, and underqualified. Yet by God’s hand, victory came anyway.

    Over and over we see it:

    • Hezekiah and the Assyrian army (2 Kings 19)
    • Jehoshaphat against the armies of Moab and Ammon (2 Chronicles 20)
    • Daniel in the lion’s den (Daniel 6)
    • Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego in the fiery furnace (Daniel 3)

    These aren’t just Bible stories—they’re testimonies. Reminders that when obedience seems foolish, God’s power is often just moments away.

    I don’t know what kind of battle you’re facing today. Maybe you’re on lap 11 or 12, and nothing’s changed. The walls are still there. The enemy still looms. The fear is still whispering in your ear. But let me say this:

    Don’t quit before lap 13.

    Don’t let the world define your “unlucky” situation. Let God redeem it for His glory. Maybe you feel like the underdog—like Gideon. Or maybe you’ve been marching silently like Joshua, wondering if your obedience even matters. It does. It always does.

    And when you’re tired? When quitting seems easier than continuing? Remember the words of Jehaziel in 2 Chronicles 20:17, “Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord.” Or David’s bold declaration to Goliath in 1 Samuel 17:47, “The battle is the Lord’s.” Or the simple, powerful invitation from Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God.”

    There’s a song from the Imperials—recorded back in 1979—that still speaks:

    Praise the Lord, for the chains that seem to bind you
    Serve only to remind you
    That they drop powerless behind you
    When you praise Him.

    Chains look real. Walls feel permanent. But God? He specializes in things that don’t make sense.

    Reflection Questions:

    1. Have you ever obeyed God when it didn’t make sense? What happened?
    2. Are you on a “lap” right now where quitting feels easier than trusting?
    3. What walls are you facing today that need a God-sized breakthrough?

    Final Encouragement:
    Obedience may not feel powerful—but it positions us to see God’s power clearly. Don’t stop short. Don’t buy the world’s definition of what’s “lucky” or “logical.” If He brought you to it, He’s more than able to bring you through it.

    Keep marching. Lap 13 is coming.

  • When Broken Becomes Beautiful

    Scripture: “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.” – Psalm 34:18 (NKJV)

    Some endings hit so hard, the air gets knocked clean out of your lungs. That’s what last night felt like. The weight of a failing marriage… the kind of grief that doesn’t come with a clean break, just a slow unraveling. I thought I’d already cried the hard tears—but somehow, there were more.

    In that place, I heard a song that spoke truth straight to the rawest part of me. “The bright side of being broken is a heart that’s busted open.”

    At first, I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to look for silver linings—I wanted restoration. Reconciliation. But the more I listened, the more I realized something powerful: broken doesn’t mean abandoned. In fact, it might be where God does His most beautiful work.

    God doesn’t avoid our mess. He meets us in it.

    Psalm 34:18 isn’t just comfort—it’s a promise. Jesus draws near to the brokenhearted. That means He’s not waiting for us to fix ourselves up. He moves into the ruins and begins to build something new—not from polished perfection, but from broken pieces.

    So if your life feels shattered, you’re not disqualified from grace—you’re a prime candidate. If everything feels like it’s ending, maybe that’s the very place God begins something eternal.

    Reflection Questions:

    • What part of your life feels broken right now?
    • Can you invite Jesus into that space instead of hiding it?
    • What could “the bright side of broken” look like for you?

    Prayer:
    Lord, I don’t like feeling broken. I’d rather be healed, restored, and whole. But if broken is the door You walk through to reach me, then here I am—wide open. Step into the wreckage, Lord, and do what only You can. Amen.

  • When Gentleness Is Strength

    The world teaches us to shout. Social media rewards sarcasm. Boardrooms reward dominance. Even in the Church, we sometimes applaud power over humility. But here’s a truth I’ve carried since I was a teen—a quote clipped from an old newspaper:

    “In a time when everything is thought to be had by intimidation, gentleness still has amazing strength. It has never been wise to underestimate the person who has compassion and understanding and the gift of showing it.

    Hard talk is not a sign of superior ability, but it does show a weakness in character. The need to put someone else down in hopes of looking good reveals a deficient personality.

    Few can resist the power of communication, the gentle friendliness of making everyone feel they are a part of the rank and order. Teamwork has always been about mutual respect, a show of confidence, and a willingness to help. If we lose the gentle touch, we lose control, and little else counts from that point on.”

    The Bible backs that up. Gentleness isn’t weakness—it’s one of the nine traits that prove the Holy Spirit is working in our lives:

    “But the fruit of the Spirit is… kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” (Galatians 5:22–23, NKJV)

    It’s not optional. It’s evidence.

    A second line from that quote drives it home:

    “Hard talk is not a sign of superior ability, but it does show a weakness in character.”

    There’s a reason Scripture tells us:

    “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” (Proverbs 15:1, NKJV)

    Gentleness is the secret ingredient that holds marriages together, creates harmony in ministry teams, and cultivates respect in leadership. When it’s missing, trust breaks. Communication dies. Influence shrinks.

    Jesus modeled it perfectly. In Matthew 11:29, He invites us to learn from Him:

    “Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (NKJV)

    If the Son of God could walk in gentleness while carrying all authority in heaven and earth—what’s our excuse?

    Ask Yourself Today:

    • Do I speak to win arguments or to build people up?
    • When I’m leading, am I inviting or intimidating?
    • Where can I choose kindness over control?

    Prayer:
    Lord, grow in me the strength to be gentle. Let Your Spirit bear that fruit in my life—in how I speak, how I lead, and how I love. Amen.

  • When I’m Not in Control

    “And He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me… For when I am weak, then I am strong.” II Corinthians 12:9–10 (NKJV)

    I don’t like not being in control.

    If I’m in the car, I’d rather be the one driving. At work, I want to be the guy coordinating the chaos, managing the details, keeping the wheels turning. At home, I like being the one with the answers—the calm in the storm. The strong one.

    But sometimes, life makes it painfully clear that I’m not meant to run the show.

    There are moments when I have to admit someone else should take the lead. Times I don’t have the answers. Days I can’t fix what’s broken. And those moments sting. They make me feel exposed and unsteady—like I’m failing somehow.

    But here’s the truth I’m learning: That space—where I feel powerless and uncomfortable—is often exactly where God wants me. Not because He delights in my weakness, but because it’s there that I’m finally available.

    When I stop relying on my own strength, God can show up with His.

    Paul understood this. He didn’t pretend weakness was easy or desirable—but he recognized its purpose. He came to see his limitations not as obstacles, but as opportunities for Christ to move through him.

    We can’t experience God’s sufficiency until we admit our own lack. When we insist on staying in control, we leave little room for the Spirit to work. But when we surrender, when we confess, “Lord, I can’t do this alone”—that’s when grace rushes in.

    You may be in a season where you feel like you’re supposed to have it all figured out. Maybe you’re leading others, managing a household, carrying emotional burdens you don’t talk about. You’re worn out, but still gripping the wheel, because it feels safer than letting go.

    Can I lovingly challenge you today? Let go.

    God isn’t asking you to be invincible. He’s asking you to be available.

    And that starts with vulnerability. With honesty. With that simple but powerful prayer: “God, I need You.”

    Letting go of control doesn’t mean you’re giving up. It means you’re giving it over—to the One who never loses His grip.

    Reflection Questions:

    • What areas of your life are you struggling to release control over?
    • What would it look like to surrender those to God today?
    • Can you think of a time when your weakness became a platform for God’s strength?

    Prayer:
    Father, I confess that I like being in control. I like feeling strong, capable, and in charge. But I know that real strength comes from You—not from me. Help me to release the areas I’ve been gripping too tightly. Teach me to trust You more than I trust myself. Use my weakness for Your glory. In Jesus’ name, amen.

  • Broken But Not Bitter: Returning to God When Life Hurts

    Broken But Not Bitter: Returning to God When Life Hurts

    Brokenness isn’t a matter of if—it’s a matter of when. Every one of us lives long enough to experience it: a friend walks away, a promise goes unfulfilled, a prayer goes unanswered. Life hits hard sometimes, and when it does, we don’t just end up with broken circumstances—we end up with broken expectations, broken trust, even broken hearts.

    Henri Nouwen put it like this:

    “Our life is full of brokenness—broken relationships, broken promises, broken expectations. How can we live with that brokenness without becoming bitter and resentful except by returning again and again to God’s faithful presence in our lives?”

    Bitterness is the natural outcome of unhealed brokenness.

    It settles in quietly.

    You start building walls instead of bridges.

    You stop expecting good things from God—or people.

    You stop praying like you used to.

    You stop returning.

    But here’s the invitation of the gospel: Come back. Again. And again. And again.

    God is not weary of your return. He doesn’t count how many times you’ve had to start over. He just wants your heart. Even if it’s still bleeding.

    “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.” (Psalm 34:18, NKJV)

    “Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22–23, NKJV)

    Your brokenness doesn’t disqualify you—it’s what draws His nearness. If you feel weary, distant, or numb… don’t run from God. Run to Him. Take the broken pieces and lay them before the only One who can turn ashes into beauty and mourning into joy.

    This isn’t about fixing yourself. It’s about trusting the God who still draws near, even when your heart’s in pieces.

    So here’s today’s reflection:

    • What broken pieces are you still carrying?
    • Have they hardened you—or humbled you?
    • What’s one way you can return to God’s faithful presence right now?

    You’re not too far gone. You’re not too broken. You’re just one return away from restoration.