Thoughts for the Day

Tag: Christian living

  • Walking Out Of Yesterday’s Rooms

    Walking Out Of Yesterday’s Rooms

    “Do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing…”
    Isaiah 43:18–19 (NKJV)

    I’ve packed for moving several times.

    There were moves where the house was still occupied. Furniture remained in place. Pictures still hung on the walls. Yet somehow, it no longer felt like home.

    There were other moves where the house stood completely empty. Every room echoed with silence. Bare walls marked the places where pictures had once hung, and the emptiness quietly announced that the chapter had ended.

    One moment, though, caught me completely by surprise.

    It wasn’t the furniture.

    It wasn’t the boxes.

    It was the photographs.

    One by one, I found myself deciding which memories would make the move with me and which would not.

    Some made me smile.

    Others brought tears.

    Some reminded me of God’s faithfulness through seasons I never would have chosen. Others reminded me of burdens I had carried far longer than I should have.

    As I sorted through them, I realized something.

    Following Christ isn’t about pretending the past never happened.

    It’s about learning which memories to treasure, which lessons to carry forward, and which burdens to finally leave at His feet.

    Isaiah records these words from the Lord:

    “Do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing…”
    — Isaiah 43:18–19 (NKJV)

    God wasn’t telling Israel to erase their history. He was calling them not to become so anchored to yesterday that they missed what He was doing today.

    The past matters.

    It shapes us.

    It teaches us.

    It reminds us of God’s faithfulness.

    But it was never meant to become our permanent address.

    God never asks us to erase our story.

    He simply refuses to let our yesterday become our destination.

    His grace allows us to remember without remaining there.

    His mercy allows us to learn without living in regret.

    And His faithfulness keeps leading us toward the new thing He has prepared.

    Sometimes, following Christ looks a lot like packing for a move.

    You carry what belongs in the next chapter.

    You leave behind what doesn’t.

    Then, with gratitude for where you’ve been and confidence in the God who goes before you, you quietly close the door…

    …and step into tomorrow.

  • Where Is Your Faith Anchored

    Where Is Your Faith Anchored

    “It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man.” ~ Psalm 118:8 (NKJV) ~

    Where is your faith anchored?

    It’s an easy question to answer when life is calm.

    It’s much harder to answer when someone you admire disappoints you.

    When someone you trusted walks away.

    When someone you respected falls.

    That’s when you discover what—or who—your faith has really been resting upon.

    Every time a well-known Christian leader falls…

    Social media erupts.

    Headlines spread.

    Phones buzz with text messages.

    Office conversations begin.

    Church lobbies fill with opinions.

    Some rush to defend them.

    Others rush to condemn them.

    But almost no one stops to ask the question that matters most.

    Where was my faith anchored before they fell?

    As a boy, I often heard my pastor, Rev. E. G. Bass, say something that has stayed with me for decades:

    “Put your confidence in man if you must, but put your faith only in God.”

    The older I’ve become, the more I’ve realized he was simply putting Psalm 118:8 into everyday language.

    The Bible tells us to honor faithful leaders.

    To pray for them.

    To learn from them.

    But it never tells us to build our faith upon them.

    Why?

    Because every pastor…

    Every evangelist…

    Every teacher…

    Every Christian…

    Is still a sinner in need of God’s grace.

    The Bible never hides that reality.

    Noah stumbled.

    Abraham failed.

    Moses disobeyed.

    David sinned.

    Peter denied the Lord.

    Yet the story of Scripture has never been about perfect people.

    It has always been about a perfect Savior working through imperfect people.

    So when a leader falls, our faith should not fall with them.

    Christianity was never built upon pastors.

    It was never built upon apostles.

    It was never built upon denominations.

    It was built upon Jesus Christ.

    A pastor’s failure cannot undo an empty tomb.

    A minister’s sin cannot erase the cross.

    Someone else’s unfaithfulness cannot change God’s faithfulness.

    Some who fall repent and are restored.

    Some never return.

    God’s mercy remains available.

    Whether they receive it is a choice for which they are personally responsible.

    But regardless of what anyone else chooses…

    Jesus Christ remains exactly who He has always been.

    Yesterday.

    Today.

    And forever.

    Final Word

    Love your pastor.

    Pray for your pastor.

    Be thankful for faithful spiritual leaders.

    But never ask another person to bear a weight only Christ can carry.

    As Rev. E. G. Bass used to say,

    “Put your confidence in man if you must, but put your faith only in God.”

  • Doing the Truth

    Doing the Truth

    A Facebook memory from seven years ago appeared in my feed this week. It was a simple image of a burning match with the words:

    “God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all.” (1 John 1:5)

    Years ago, that’s where I stopped reading.

    This week, I kept going.

    The very next verse says,

    “If we say that we have fellowship with Him, and walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth.” (1 John 1:6, NKJV)

    Most English translations read “practice the truth,” but John’s wording is even more vivid. Literally, he says we do not “do the truth.”

    That stopped me.

    For a long time, I thought spiritual maturity was measured by how much I knew.

    I knew the doctrine.

    I knew the Scriptures.

    I knew the answers.

    But knowing the truth had not yet become doing the truth.

    Then I thought about James.

    “You believe that there is one God. You do well. Even the demons believe—and tremble!” (James 2:19)

    James reminds us that belief by itself is not the finish line. Even demons know who God is. They believe the truth about Him.

    What they do not do is submit to Him.

    Truth was never intended merely to fill our minds. It was meant to shape our lives.

    Jesus said,

    “If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them.” (John 13:17)

    Knowledge.

    Belief.

    Obedience.

    That’s the progression.

    The question isn’t simply, “Do I know the truth?”

    Or even, “Do I believe the truth?”

    The question John asks is far more personal:

    Am I doing the truth?

    Because the strongest testimony of what we believe isn’t found in what we say.

    It’s found in how we walk.

  • The Verdict Has Already Been Rendered

    The Verdict Has Already Been Rendered

    One of the enemy’s greatest weapons isn’t temptation.

    It’s accusation.

    He reminds you who you were.

    He reminds you what you did.

    He reminds you of every failure, every regret, every moment you’d rather erase.

    Sometimes he doesn’t even have to speak.

    Our own hearts do it for him.

    We replay old chapters as though they are still being written.

    We introduce ourselves by our failures.

    We define ourselves by battles Christ has already won.

    But God tells a different story.

    When Jesus cried, “It is finished” (John 19:30), He wasn’t announcing that He had merely made forgiveness possible.

    He was declaring that the price had been paid.

    Completely.

    Fully.

    Forever.

    Three days later, the empty tomb became Heaven’s declaration that the sacrifice had been accepted.

    The resurrection wasn’t God changing His mind about Jesus.

    It was God announcing His verdict over everyone who would believe.

    Paul declares that verdict in one of the most powerful verses in all of Scripture:

    “There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus…”
    — Romans 8:1 (NKJV)

    Notice what Paul doesn’t say.

    He doesn’t say there is less condemnation.

    He doesn’t say there is future condemnation if God changes His mind.

    He says there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ.

    That verdict changes more than your eternal destination.

    It changes your identity.

    “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.”
    — 2 Corinthians 5:17 (NKJV)

    God doesn’t simply clean up the old life.

    He creates a new one.

    That’s why Paul says:

    ”…even so we also should walk in newness of life.”
    — Romans 6:4 (NKJV)

    We don’t walk in newness of life to earn God’s acceptance.

    We walk in newness of life because, through Christ, we already have it.

    The church at Corinth understood what it meant to have a past.

    Some had lived in immorality.

    Some in idolatry.

    Some in drunkenness.

    Some in greed.

    Yet Paul reminds them:

    “And such were some of you. But you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus and by the Spirit of our God.”
    — 1 Corinthians 6:11 (NKJV)

    Did you catch that?

    Such were some of you.

    Not, “Such still are you.”

    Were.

    The gospel never asks us to deny where we’ve been.

    It tells us we no longer have to live there.

    Now, does that mean Christians never struggle?

    Of course not.

    The New Testament calls us to daily repentance, continual growth, and lifelong sanctification.

    We still battle the flesh.

    But the flesh is no longer our identity.

    The enemy wants you to keep introducing yourself by your old record.

    God introduces you by His Son.

    The enemy calls you condemned.

    God says, “No condemnation.”

    The enemy calls you broken.

    God says, “A new creation.”

    The enemy calls you your past.

    God says, “Walk in newness of life.”

    The enemy says you’re still who you used to be.

    God says, “Such were some of you.”

    Whose voice are you going to believe?

    ⸻

    Final Word

    The enemy keeps reading from your old record.

    God has already written a new one.

    So don’t stop reading too soon.

    Don’t live like Friday has the final word.

    And don’t keep introducing yourself by a name that Christ has already buried.

    Because the empty tomb didn’t simply prove Jesus conquered death.

    It declared that everyone who is in Christ has received Heaven’s verdict.

    No condemnation.

    A new creation.

    A new life.

    A new name.

    The verdict has already been rendered.

    Now…

    Live like you believe it.

  • Part 1: I Could Only See the Page I Was Standing On

    Part 1: I Could Only See the Page I Was Standing On

    Yesterday we looked at the lives of Moses, Gideon, Samson, Peter, Saul, and Manasseh.

    Different people.

    Different failures.

    Different stories.

    Yet every one of them shared something in common.

    At some point, it looked like their story was over.

    Moses was a murderer and a fugitive.

    Gideon hid in fear.

    Samson sat blind in a Philistine prison.

    Peter denied Jesus three times.

    Saul hunted Christians.

    Manasseh filled Jerusalem with bloodshed and idolatry.

    If we had stopped reading at those chapters, we would have reached the wrong conclusion about every one of them.

    But God didn’t stop writing.

    As I reflected on that truth, I couldn’t help but think about my own story.

    I’ve lived through chapters that felt like endings.

    I’ve walked through the pain of divorce.

    I’ve stood at an altar again believing life was finally being rebuilt… only to watch another marriage come apart.

    I’ve stepped away from a Sunday School classroom that had become part of my identity.

    There were seasons when I honestly wondered whether the best chapters of my life were already behind me.

    If you had asked me then what the future held, I couldn’t have answered.

    I could only see the page I was standing on.

    But God could see the whole story.

    Looking back now, I can see that He wasn’t finished.

    He wasn’t simply restoring circumstances.

    He was restoring me.

    Patiently…

    Faithfully…

    Quietly…

    He began healing places in my heart that I didn’t even realize were still broken.

    He opened doors to a ministry I never imagined.

    Instead of speaking to one Sunday School class each week, He placed a keyboard in my hands and opened doors to encourage people I may never meet this side of eternity.

    And in His grace, He also brought a relationship that reminded me what healthy love, trust, and genuine partnership could look like again.

    Not because my past disappeared.

    Not because every scar was erased.

    But because redemption doesn’t erase yesterday.

    It gives us hope for tomorrow.

    When I look at my life today, I don’t see someone whose story avoided heartbreak.

    I see someone whose story proves that God can write beautiful chapters after painful ones.

    That’s the beauty of redemption.

    God sees beyond the chapter we’re living in.

    Joseph’s prison wasn’t the end.

    David’s cave wasn’t the end.

    Jonah’s fish wasn’t the end.

    Daniel’s lions’ den wasn’t the end.

    Peter’s denial wasn’t the end.

    Paul’s persecution wasn’t the end.

    The greatest mistake we can make is assuming today’s chapter is the final one.

    Many of us have done exactly that.

    We’ve allowed failure to become our identity.

    We’ve let regret define our future.

    We’ve convinced ourselves that because we made a terrible decision—or because life simply fell apart—God has closed the book.

    But Scripture tells another story.

    Again and again, God meets people in their darkest moments—not to excuse their sin, but to redeem what seemed beyond redemption.

    If He could rewrite Moses’ story…

    If He could restore Peter…

    If He could transform Saul…

    If He could forgive Manasseh…

    Then perhaps He isn’t finished writing yours.

    As I write these words, I know something else.

    My story isn’t finished either.

    God is still teaching me.

    Still shaping me.

    Still redeeming parts of my life I once thought were beyond repair.

    Don’t stop reading too soon.

    The Author is still holding the pen.

    Tomorrow we’ll look at the moment that proved that truth forever.

    “Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.” — Philippians 1:6 (NKJV)

  • Don’t Stop Reading Too Soon

    Don’t Stop Reading Too Soon

    “If you’re going to tell my story… tell it all. Don’t tell me about David and Goliath if you don’t tell me about Bathsheba. Don’t tell me about Peter walking on the water if you don’t tell me about him denying Christ. Don’t tell me about Saul becoming Paul if you don’t tell me about him persecuting the Church.”
    — Rev. Ronald LaCombe

    Those words have stayed with me since I first read them.

    Not because they excuse sin.

    Not because they diminish failure.

    But because they remind us of something we often forget.

    A single chapter is not the whole story.

    Imagine if the Bible had ended at some of its darkest moments.

    Moses standing over the body of an Egyptian.

    Gideon hiding in a winepress, fearful of the Midianites.

    Samson, blind and broken, grinding grain for the Philistines.

    David standing on a rooftop instead of a battlefield.

    Peter warming himself beside the fire as he denied even knowing Jesus.

    Saul of Tarsus breathing threats against the Church.

    Manasseh filling Jerusalem with idolatry and innocent blood.

    If the story stopped there, history would remember each of them very differently.

    But God didn’t stop writing.

    That’s one of the things I love most about Scripture.

    It doesn’t sanitize its heroes.

    If the Bible were merely a collection of inspiring legends, those chapters would have quietly disappeared. Noah’s drunkenness would have been omitted. Abraham’s fear would have been edited out. David’s adultery would have remained unmentioned. Peter’s denial would have been forgotten.

    Instead, God left every one of those stories in the pages of His Word.

    Why?

    Because the Bible has never been a book about flawless people.

    It is a book about a faithful God.

    Moses became the deliverer of Israel.

    Gideon led three hundred men against an army that couldn’t be counted.

    Samson’s greatest victory came after his greatest failure.

    David became known as a man after God’s own heart—not because he never sinned, but because he genuinely repented.

    Peter stood on the Day of Pentecost and boldly preached the very Christ he had once denied.

    Saul became Paul, carrying the gospel farther than he ever carried persecution.

    Even Manasseh—the most wicked king Judah had ever known—humbled himself before God, and God heard his prayer.

    Grace did not erase what they had done.

    Moses still never entered the Promised Land.

    David still endured painful consequences.

    Samson still died in Gaza.

    Peter never forgot that night around the fire.

    God doesn’t rewrite history.

    He redeems it.

    I wonder how many people have already decided your story is finished.

    Perhaps they know about the divorce, but not the healing.

    The addiction, but not the freedom.

    The rebellion, but not the repentance.

    The failure, but not the restoration.

    Maybe you’ve done the same thing to yourself.

    Maybe you’ve convinced yourself that one painful chapter has become the title of your entire life.

    Friend, don’t stop reading too soon.

    The same God who continued writing Moses’ story…

    continued writing David’s.

    Continued writing Peter’s.

    Continued writing Paul’s.

    Continued writing Manasseh’s.

    And if you’ve placed your life in His hands…

    He’s still writing yours.

    The world is quick to place a period where God places a comma.

    People often decide the ending while God is still turning the page.

    So if you’re going to tell my story…

    Tell it all.

    Tell them where I failed.

    Tell them where I fell.

    Tell them where I doubted.

    But don’t stop there.

    Tell them about the God whose mercy proved greater than my worst chapter.

    Because the greatest part of my story was never my failure.

    It was the grace of God that refused to let my failure become the end.

    ⸻

    Final Word

    The enemy wants you to believe your worst moment is your defining moment.

    God declares that, through repentance and His grace, your worst moment can become the place where His mercy shines the brightest.

    So don’t stop reading too soon.

    God isn’t finished writing.

  • He Already Knew

    He Already Knew

    Scripture: 2 Chronicles 33:10–13

    Yesterday while eating lunch in my car, I was listening to a new song by Westward Road called He Knew.

    As I listened, I heard these words:

    “So ashamed of my past…
    Too many failures and flaws…
    Thought I was too far away…
    But that’s what’s amazing ’bout grace…”

    Then came the line that stopped me in my tracks.

    “He knew who He was saving.”

    A few moments later came another.

    “He saw a risk worth taking.”

    I just sat there.

    It wasn’t because of the music.

    It wasn’t because I was analyzing the lyrics.

    It was because, for just a moment, I found myself standing in the shoes of every person who has ever wondered if they’d gone too far.

    Maybe you’ve been there.

    You look back over your life and see failures you’d rather forget.

    Choices you wish you could undo.

    Sins you promised would never happen again.

    And somewhere in the silence, a question begins to whisper:

    If God really knew everything about me… would He still want me?

    Almost immediately, my mind went to Manasseh.

    He wasn’t simply another king who made a few bad decisions.

    He led Judah into idolatry.

    He practiced witchcraft.

    He filled Jerusalem with innocent blood.

    By every human measure, his story looked beyond redemption.

    Yet none of it caught God by surprise.

    Before Manasseh built his first idol…

    God knew.

    Before he led a nation away from the Lord…

    God knew.

    Before he found himself in chains in Babylon…

    God knew.

    And before the desperate prayer finally escaped his lips…

    God knew.

    Everything.

    Yet Scripture tells us that when Manasseh humbled himself before the Lord,

    “He was moved by his entreaty and listened to his plea…” (2 Chronicles 33:13)

    That verse has become one of my favorites.

    Not because it tells me how bad Manasseh was.

    But because it reminds me how good God is.

    God has never discovered anything about you.

    He already knew.

    Everything.

    Your worst failure.

    Your deepest wound.

    The regret you still carry.

    The battle no one else knows about.

    None of it caught Him by surprise.

    And none of it changed His desire to redeem you.

    The cross was never God’s reaction to your sin.

    It was His answer before your sin ever happened.

    Maybe today you’re looking backward with shame.

    God isn’t.

    He has already seen every page of your story.

    Yet He still calls you by His grace.

    He already knew.

    Everything.

    And He loved you anyway.

    That’s what’s amazing about grace.

  • Turning The Page

    Turning The Page

    Some chapters close quietly.

    Not because the story is over…
    But because it’s time to turn the page.

    We may not understand why one season ends or what the next one will hold. But God sees the whole story, while we only see the page in front of us.

    So when something familiar begins to fade, don’t assume God is finished.

    Trust the Author.

    He’s still writing.

    “Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it…”
    — Philippians 1:6

  • Learning To Lean

    Learning To Lean

    “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.” — Proverbs 3:5

    I woke before sunrise with an old hymn running through my mind.

    Learning to lean…
    Learning to lean…
    I’m learning to lean on Jesus…

    At first, I thought it was simply an encouraging song.

    But as I spent time in Scripture, I realized it was asking me a deeper question.

    What am I leaning on?

    We all lean on something.

    Some lean on their own abilities.
    Some lean on financial security.
    Some lean on relationships, reputation, influence, or strength.
    Some lean on determination, believing that if they just try harder, they can make it through.

    Others lean on things that promise relief but never truly heal—addictions, distractions, habits, or anything else that numbs the weight they are carrying.

    But there is a second question we must ask.

    Why am I leaning on it?

    Because we do not lean on these things for no reason.

    We lean on money because we want security.
    We lean on people because we want acceptance.
    We lean on control because we want peace.
    We lean on success because we want significance.
    We lean on escape because we want relief.

    Every false support is promising something to the soul that only God can truly give.

    David faced that very test in a cave.

    King Saul, who had hunted him relentlessly, unknowingly walked in alone. David’s men saw the opportunity of a lifetime. One swing of the sword, and years of fear could be over.

    But David saw something else.

    He saw a promise that did not need his manipulation.

    He refused to take by force what God had promised by grace.

    David did not lean on his sword.
    He leaned on God.

    And because David was leaning on God, he did not need the throne to satisfy his soul.

    That is the difference.

    David still desired what God had promised.
    But he did not need to sin in order to obtain it.

    Perhaps that is why Solomon wrote,

    “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.”

    Those are not two separate commands.

    They are one.

    The first half tells us what God is calling us to do.

    The second half tells us how.

    We trust Him by refusing to lean on ourselves.

    Faith is not simply believing that God exists.

    Faith is transferring the weight of our confidence from our own understanding to His wisdom, and from our own strength to His faithfulness.

    And that brings us to the other hymn that came to mind today:

    Only Jesus can satisfy your soul…

    That is the full equation.

    What am I leaning on?

    And…

    What am I expecting it to give me?

    Because whatever we lean on must be able to bear the weight of our lives.

    And whatever we look to for satisfaction must be able to reach the deepest place in our souls.

    Only Christ can do both.

    He alone can carry the weight.
    He alone can satisfy the longing.

    So maybe the question today is not just whether we believe in Jesus.

    Maybe the question is more personal than that.

    Am I leaning on Him?

    And am I trusting Him to be enough?

  • The Greater Victory

    The Greater Victory

    Scripture: 1 Samuel 24:1–12

    When most people think about David’s greatest victory, they immediately think of Goliath.

    It’s understandable.

    A shepherd boy walks onto a battlefield with nothing but a sling and five smooth stones. One giant falls, an army flees, and a nation celebrates.

    It is one of the greatest stories in all of Scripture.

    But I’m no longer convinced that was David’s greatest victory.

    This week has been filled with thoughts about David.

    First, Nathan confronting him.

    Then Psalm 51.

    Then, on the drive home Tuesday, Lisa read me something she had found on Facebook.

    It simply said that David’s greatest victory wasn’t defeating Goliath.

    It was sparing Saul.

    I asked her to read it again.

    Then I asked her to send it to me.

    The more I’ve reflected on it…

    The more I think there is profound truth in that statement.

    Not because Saul deserved mercy.

    But because David had become the kind of man who trusted God enough to show it.

    At first glance, it almost feels like we’re going backward in David’s story.

    After all, the cave came long before Bathsheba.

    Long before Nathan.

    Long before Psalm 51.

    But perhaps that’s exactly why this passage matters.

    Earlier this week we saw what a heart after God’s own heart looks like when it fails.

    Today we see what that same heart looked like before it failed.

    The setting couldn’t have been more dramatic.

    Saul had spent years hunting David.
    David had done nothing to deserve it.

    He had served Saul faithfully.
    He had fought Israel’s enemies.
    He had married Saul’s daughter.

    Yet now he was living as a fugitive.

    Then the opportunity came.

    Saul unknowingly entered the very cave where David and his men were hiding.

    David’s companions could hardly believe it.

    “This is the day the LORD spoke about!”

    To them, this wasn’t merely an opportunity.

    It was providence.

    David could finally take the throne God had already promised him.

    No more running.
    No more hiding.
    No more caves.

    He quietly crept toward Saul.

    Sword in hand.

    Then…

    He stopped.

    Instead of taking Saul’s life, he cut off a corner of Saul’s robe.

    Even then, Scripture says something remarkable.

    “David’s heart smote him…” (1 Samuel 24:5)

    That verse has always fascinated me.

    David wasn’t convicted after killing Saul.

    He was convicted after cutting a piece of cloth.

    Why?

    Because David understood something his men did not.

    The robe represented the office God had established.

    Saul may have failed as king.
    God had already rejected him.
    Samuel had already confronted him.

    But David understood that judgment belonged to God.

    Not to him.

    So David declared:

    “The LORD forbid that I should do this thing unto my master, the LORD’S anointed…”

    Those words have often been misunderstood.

    Some have used them to suggest that spiritual leaders should never be questioned or held accountable.

    But that’s not what David was saying.

    Saul had already been confronted.
    He had already been rebuked.
    He had already been judged by God.

    David simply refused to seize for himself what only God had the right to give.

    He would wait.
    Even when waiting hurt.
    Even when the opportunity seemed perfect.
    Even when everyone around him insisted this must be God’s will.

    God’s promises will never require us to abandon His principles.

    All too often we see an opportunity and immediately assume God has opened the door.

    But when we dig beneath the surface, we sometimes discover that walking through that door would require us to compromise the very principles God has already made clear in His Word.

    David refused to do that.

    He understood that God’s promise of the throne did not give him permission to violate God’s character in order to obtain it.

    Sometimes the greatest act of faith is walking away from something you have every human reason to take, because you trust that God’s way is always better than your own shortcut.

    As I’ve reflected on David’s life these past several weeks, one thought continues to surface.

    God wasn’t merely preparing David to wear a crown.
    He was preparing him to carry one.

    Anyone can display courage when facing a giant.

    It takes a very different kind of strength to lay down your sword when facing an enemy.

    Goliath tested David’s courage.
    Saul tested David’s character.

    One victory won Israel’s applause.
    The other revealed the heart God had been forming all along.

    Final Word

    David eventually became king.

    Not because he took the throne when he had the chance…

    But because he trusted God enough to wait until God placed him there.

    There are moments in life when we could force the outcome.

    We defend ourselves.

    We get even.

    We take what we believe is rightfully ours.

    The cave reminds us that the greatest victories are not always the ones everyone celebrates.

    Sometimes the greatest victory is trusting God enough to leave justice in His hands.

    Because a heart after God’s own heart doesn’t simply ask,

    “What can I do?”

    It first asks,

    “What would honor God?”

    And perhaps that’s one of the clearest marks of spiritual maturity.

    Not that we seize every opportunity placed before us…

    But that we trust God enough to refuse the ones that require us to abandon His principles.