Tag: Hope

  • Part 2 – The Page That Changed Everything

    Part 2 – The Page That Changed Everything

    Part 2 – The Page That Changed Everything

    Friday looked final.

    The cross stood silent against a darkened sky. Jesus was dead. His body had been wrapped in linen and laid in a borrowed tomb. The stone was rolled into place. The disciples scattered. Hope seemed buried with Him.

    If anyone had written the story that night, they would have ended it there.

    The End.

    But God wasn’t finished writing.

    Before sunrise on the third day, a small group of women made their way to the tomb carrying spices. They weren’t expecting a miracle. They were preparing for a burial.

    Their greatest concern wasn’t whether Jesus would rise. It was much simpler.

    “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance of the tomb?” (Mark 16:3, NKJV)

    When they arrived, the stone had already been moved.

    The tomb was empty.

    The angel declared the words that forever changed history:

    “He is not here; for He is risen, as He said.” (Matthew 28:6, NKJV)

    The stone wasn’t rolled away so Jesus could get out.

    It was rolled away so the world could look in.

    In that moment, everything changed.

    Death no longer had the final word.

    Sin no longer had the final word.

    Failure no longer had the final word.

    Shame no longer had the final word.

    Suddenly Moses wasn’t just a murderer.

    Gideon wasn’t just afraid.

    Samson wasn’t just blind.

    Peter wasn’t just the man who denied Jesus.

    Saul wasn’t just the persecutor of the church.

    The empty tomb proved what the rest of Scripture had been pointing toward all along:

    God specializes in rewriting impossible stories.

    Maybe today you’re staring at a chapter you never wanted to read.

    Maybe all you can see is loss…

    disappointment…

    unanswered prayers…

    broken dreams.

    Don’t mistake this page for the ending.

    The page that changed everything has already been written.

    Read that again.

    The page that changed everything has already been written.

    The resurrection didn’t erase Friday.

    It redeemed it.

    Think about that.

    Jesus still bore the scars.

    Friday still happened.

    The suffering was real.

    The death was real.

    But Sunday changed what Friday meant.

    That’s redemption.

    God rarely erases our Fridays.

    He redeems them.

    Because Jesus walked out of that tomb, your story is never defined by its darkest chapter. The resurrection settled forever that death doesn’t get the final word.

    Sin doesn’t get the final word.

    Failure doesn’t get the final word.

    Jesus does.

    That’s why Christians don’t merely look back to an empty tomb once a year at Easter.

    We live every day in the hope the resurrection declared.

    Every time it looks like God has reached the end…

    He turns another page.

    Scripture

    Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His abundant mercy has begotten us again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.”
    —1 Peter 1:3 (NKJV)

  • 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.

  • If My Story Can Save Someone Else’s

    If My Story Can Save Someone Else’s

    There comes a point in life when you stop worrying about what people will remember about you…

    And you start wondering what your life will point them toward.

    I’ve made decisions I wish I could take back.

    I’ve hurt people I loved.

    I’ve failed in ways that still grieve me.

    If I could rewrite those chapters, I would.

    But I can’t.

    And maybe that’s exactly where God’s grace becomes most visible.

    Because grace isn’t proven by the lives of people who never needed it.

    Grace is proven by what God does with people who did.

    The Apostle Paul never hid the fact that he persecuted the church.

    Peter never pretended he hadn’t denied Jesus.

    David never removed Psalm 51 from the Bible.

    Their failures weren’t recorded to glorify sin.

    They were preserved to magnify God’s mercy.

    I don’t tell parts of my story because I’m proud of them.

    I’m not.

    I tell them because somewhere, someone else is standing where I once stood.

    Someone is one decision away from destroying a marriage.

    Someone is trapped in secret sin.

    Someone is convinced they’ve gone too far for God to forgive.

    If my failures can persuade one person to turn around before making the same mistake…

    If my scars can convince someone that God’s grace is still greater than their shame…

    If one person finds hope because they realized God never gave up on me…

    Then every painful chapter will have served a purpose.

    When this life is over, I don’t want people talking about my accomplishments.

    I don’t want to be remembered for clever words, popular posts, or even a ministry.

    I want them to remember a faithful God…

    Who refused to stop pursuing an unfaithful man.

    Like the song says:

    “I don’t want to leave a legacy.

    I don’t care if they remember me.

    Only Jesus.”

    Because if my life points even one person toward Him…

    Then every chapter—

    The joyful ones.

    The painful ones.

    The victories.

    The failures.

    The mountains.

    The valleys.

    Will all have been worth it.

    Final Word

    One day, every one of us will leave something behind.

    The question isn’t whether we’ll leave a legacy.

    The question is what that legacy will point to.

    May people never look at our lives and say, “What an extraordinary person.”

    May they instead say,

    “What an extraordinary Savior.”

  • Happiness vs Joy – There Is a Difference

    In a 2014 sermon, Victoria Osteen told her audience that “God wants you to be happy.” The sentiment seems harmless. After all, what parent doesn’t want their child to be happy?

    But there’s a problem when happiness is confused with joy.

    The two words are similar in definition, but completely different in application. And for believers, that distinction makes all the difference in the world.

    Merriam-Webster defines:

    • Happiness as “a state of well-being and contentment.”
    • Joy as “the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or the prospect of possessing what one desires.”

    The Bible supports this distinction. Happiness is mentioned only 25 times. Joy appears over 165 times—and it’s often tied to hardship.

    • “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)
    • “They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.” (Psalm 126:5)
    • “I will turn their mourning into joy, and will comfort them.” (Jeremiah 31:13)

    Joy is not the absence of sorrow—it’s the presence of hope.

    It’s the deep, inner assurance that God is with us, that He is for us, and that His promises are true even when life is falling apart. That’s why joy is still possible even in grief.

    That definition—“the prospect of possessing what one desires”—rings especially true for the Christian life. When our desire is God Himself, then joy becomes our constant companion, no matter what storms roll in.

    Happiness can come from circumstances.
    Joy comes from Christ.

    Happiness is a state of mind.
    Joy is a state of being.

    We can live without temporary happiness if we’re filled with eternal joy. And that’s what I choose.

    I choose joy. Do you?

  • The Bargain and the Broken Box

    On Holy Wednesday, two people made two very different decisions—one sold the Savior, and the other poured everything out at His feet.

    It began with a cold exchange. Judas Iscariot went to the chief priests—not the other way around.

    “What are you willing to give me if I deliver Him to you?” (Matthew 26:15).

    There’s no emotion in the text.

    Just calculation.

    He didn’t plead or wrestle.

    He named the price of betrayal and took the deal.

    Thirty pieces of silver.

    The cost of a slave.

    That’s what they believed Jesus was worth.

    That’s what Judas accepted.

    We can almost picture the smirk on Caiaphas’ face, the scribes nodding in approval, the money counted out and dropped into Judas’ hand with a metallic clink.

    Done deal.

    The Son of God sold for pocket change.

    No prayer.

    No hesitation.

    Just a transaction.

    A soul for sale.

    But while Judas was closing his bargain, a broken woman was stepping into a Pharisee’s house to pour out her heart.

    The setting couldn’t have been more different. Jesus was dining at the home of Simon the Pharisee when a woman walked in carrying an alabaster flask of fragrant oil. Luke 7 describes her only as “a sinner.” Her name isn’t mentioned here, but many believe this was Mary Magdalene—a woman who knew what it meant to be shunned, whispered about, and cast aside.

    She didn’t ask to speak.

    She didn’t make a scene.

    She just knelt behind Jesus and wept.

    Tears poured from her soul before any oil left the jar.

    She wiped His feet with her hair.

    She kissed them.

    Then she broke open the alabaster box and anointed Him with perfume that would’ve cost nearly a year’s wages.

    CeCe Winans captures the moment in the song “Alabaster Box”:

    “I can’t forget the way life used to be, I was a prisoner to the sin that had me bound…But I’ve come to pour My praise on Him like oil, From my alabaster box.”

    While Simon judged her silently, Jesus told a parable: two debtors, one owing much and the other little. Both were forgiven. “Tell Me, therefore, which of them will love him more?” (Luke 7:42). Simon answered, “I suppose the one whom he forgave more.”

    And Jesus said, “You have rightly judged.” Then turning to the woman, He said, “Her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little.” (v. 47)

    Both Judas and Mary encountered Jesus face to face.

    Both had the chance to respond to who He truly was.

    One chose betrayal.

    One chose brokenness.

    One calculated what Jesus was worth.

    The other couldn’t put a price on what He had done for her.

    And today, we stand in that same tension.

    Will we grow so familiar with Jesus that we start measuring His worth in silver? Or will we fall at His feet in worship, tears, and surrender?

    Holy Wednesday reminds us: It’s not how far you’ve fallen—it’s how deeply you realize you’ve been forgiven.

    Let’s not hold back. Let’s break the box.

    Prayer: Lord, don’t let my love grow cold. Break through my pride and self-reliance. Remind me of the mercy that found me. Teach me to pour out my worship freely and to never withhold what You deserve. In Jesus’ name, amen.

  • Finding Strength When Life Gets Heavy

    1 Samuel 30:6 (NKJV) – “Now David was greatly distressed, for the people spoke of stoning him, because the soul of all the people was grieved, every man for his sons and his daughters. But David strengthened himself in the LORD his God.”

    You ever have one of those days where it feels like life’s throwing everything it’s got at you? Bills piling up, work stress mounting, maybe a family squabble or two—everything just feels heavy, like a thick fog you can’t seem to shake off. We’ve all been there, feeling as if fate itself is just out to get us. But here’s the thing—you’re not alone in that struggle.

    Take King David, for example. He knew a something about life’s curveballs. Between facing battles, betrayers, and heartbreak, David had his fair share of tough days. Yet amidst the chaos, he found a way to rise. In 1 Samuel 30:6, we see David in a real tight spot…his own people were ready to take him down. But rather than wallow in despair, David took a moment to regroup; he chose to encourage himself “in the LORD his God.”

    Even when God’s hand didn’t seem to be readily visible, David was vocal about His greatness. He was lifting his own spirit, reminding himself that no matter how dire the situation seemed, God is still mighty, faithful, and always with us.

    That’s a lesson that hits home. How often do we let negativity seep in, flooding out our faith? Just like David, we might need to take a step back and remind ourselves of the blessings and strength God has given us in the past. We all have our “God stories,” moments that we’ve seen him work miracles or simply help us through the rough patches.

    So, what should we do when life tries to pin us down? Let’s dive into the word of God and declare those over 7,000 truths and promises over our situations. When you start reminiscing about all the times God came through for you, it’s like lighting a spark in your spirit. It helps bring clarity when everything seems heavy and dark.

    Today, lean into David’s tenacity. Speak those promises of God like an old friend whispering in your ear. Remember, you are not alone in this; you have the strength of a loving God behind you. That makes you more than a conqueror (Romans 8:37). So, let that faith reshape those gloomy feelings and push you forward with hope and grace.

  • The Paradox of Lamentations 3: Hope Amid Despair

    The Book of Lamentations, attributed to the prophet Jeremiah, is a profound exploration of grief, suffering, and hope. Chapter 3 stands as a stark paradox, intertwining anguish with glimpses of hope, serving as a reflection of the human experience filled with both despair and optimism.

    At first glance, Lamentations 3, as with the first two chapters, appears overwhelmingly bleak. Jeremiah expresses deep sorrow over the devastation of Jerusalem, visualizing it as a city stripped of life and hope. Verses 1-18 recount his despair, revealing feelings of abandonment and pain: “He has made my flesh and my skin waste away; he has broken my bones.” The vivid imagery captures the agony of loss, illustrating the weight of collective suffering. It resonates with those experiencing their own struggles — grief, betrayal, or heartbreak.

    However, paradoxically, amid the darkest moments, there emerges a flicker of hope. In verses 19-24, the tone shifts dramatically as Jeremiah boldly affirms, “But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope.” He reflects on God’s unchanging nature and steadfast love, declaring that His mercies are new every morning. This juxtaposition of despair and faith stands as a poignant reminder of the complex nature of navigating grief and adversity.

    Jeremiah teaches us the importance of acknowledging pain while also seeking hope. This duality is crucial; it allows us to grieve while holding on to the light, keeping faith alive in the storm. The paradox of Lamentations 3 encourages us to recognize that even when life feels unbearable, there is room for hope and renewal.

    As we engage with this beautiful yet complicated message, we are reminded that though life’s circumstances may change, our connection to God must remain steadfast. Lamentations 3 reassures us that we can find solace and peace, even when enduring hardship. It cultivates a profound understanding that hope can coexist with despair, and reaffirms the promise that we are never truly alone in our suffering.

    In our lives today, we may face our own Lamentations moments. Let us strive to honor our feelings while seeking the hope that Jeremiah exemplifies — recognizing that even in the depths of despair, the capacity to hope is a powerful force within us.