The Hollow We Hide In
Lyric:
“Shame and guilt, birthed from a fall,
These twins have me hiding in things that You made.”
Scripture:
“At that moment their eyes were opened, and they suddenly felt shame at their nakedness. So they sewed fig leaves together to cover themselves.”
Genesis 3:7 (NLT)
Every red carpet asks the same question: “Who are you wearing?”
At the Met Gala, designers spend millions just to show the world what someone has on. But the Bible’s first fashion statement wasn’t glamorous—it was desperate. When Adam and Eve sinned, the first thing they did was grab fig leaves to cover themselves.
The text says, “their eyes were opened.” That word doesn’t just mean eyesight; it means perception. They suddenly saw differently, but what they perceived first wasn’t wisdom—it was shame. Then it says, “they knew they were naked.” That’s the same word used earlier when they were “naked and unashamed.” Their bodies hadn’t changed. Their perspective had. Innocence turned into exposure.
And what did they do? They stitched together fig leaves. The word for “coverings” points to makeshift belts—temporary, fragile, barely holding things together. In other words, they tried to fix the problem themselves. But fig leaves wither. They can’t erase guilt or silence shame.
We do the same thing. We dress ourselves in things that can’t cover us:
• Success, to look accomplished.
• Relationships, to look secure.
• Religion, to look righteous.
• Work or creativity, to look purposeful.
It’s our modern-day hollow tree. We hide in the very things God made—good things—but they were never meant to cover us.
Here’s the hope: God steps in as the true Designer. Genesis 3:21 says He made garments for Adam and Eve—something far more complete and enduring than their fragile leaves. Later, Isaiah 61:10 says He clothes us with garments of salvation and robes of righteousness. And at the cross, Jesus took on our shame so we could be clothed in His perfection.
God isn’t asking, “Who are you wearing?” He’s offering His own wardrobe. Grace is the only garment that never fades, never rips, and never goes out of style.
Timothy Keller once wrote:
“The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time, more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.”
Reflection
What are you trying to “wear” right now to cover your shame?
What outfit are you hiding behind that God is asking you to trade for His grace?
Prayer
Lord, I admit I’ve tried to cover myself in the wrong things—success, people’s approval, even my own attempts to look good. Thank You for offering me garments of salvation that never wear out. Dress me in Your grace today, and help me walk in the freedom of being fully covered by You.
In Jesus’ name, Amén.
The God Sin Vergüenza
“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.” — Luke 15:20
The journey into Metanoia Vol. 2 begins with the single If You Ever Go, and its weight lies in the story it tells. The song opens with God’s perspective in the first two verses — calling, assuring, inviting. But in the third verse, the voice shifts: it is the Prodigal speaking. This is the same soul from Metanoia Vol. 1 who once planted the seed of change. The first step into a new way of life felt hopeful, but it was almost immediately followed by stumbling. Falling isn’t foreign to faith; in fact, the very first steps often feel the hardest.
That verse becomes the confession of the stumble, the honesty of hearing the Shepherd’s voice calling from over the hills while still being pulled by “sweet nothings.” And it sets the stage for one of the most shocking details in Jesus’ parable: the Father runs.
In the culture of Jesus’ day, no man of honor would run. To run meant lifting your robe, exposing your legs, and looking foolish in front of your community. Dignified men walked; servants ran. But God is different. He is the God sin vergüenza — the God without shame, the God unashamed.
He does not guard His reputation at our expense. He risks ridicule, bears the shame, and makes Himself look foolish all to get to us before condemnation does. The Father is more concerned with our restoration than His appearance.
Reflection
The gospel isn’t about us climbing back in dignity. It’s about a Father who runs sin vergüenza to cover us in grace. The world may whisper, “Shame on you,” but He shouts louder, “I am unashamed of you.”
Takeaway
Falling doesn’t cancel the call. Even when “sweet nothings” lure us away, we can still hear the voice over the hills, and it belongs to a Father running faster than our shame.
Prayer
Lord, You are the God sin vergüenza. Thank You for loving me beyond reputation, beyond shame, beyond what makes sense. When I stumble on the first steps of change, remind me that You are already running, unashamed, to embrace me.
In Jesus’ name, Amén.
The House God Builds
Don’t let it pass
The moment for your faith and hope to weld,
Forging purpose in your life so you can tell somebody else.
“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
Hebrews 11:1
I’ve been renovating my house lately, and Hebrews 11:1 has taken on a new meaning for me.
When the floors are pulled up and the walls are stripped down, you see what’s underneath — the foundation, the beams, the parts you normally don’t notice. Without them, nothing else would stand. That’s what faith is: the assurance (hypostasis), the unseen foundation that holds up everything in my life.
Then there are the blueprints — the vision of what the house will look like when it’s finished. That’s hope (elpis): a confident expectation that even if the place looks like a mess now, the Builder knows what He’s doing.
And the conviction (elegchos) is like walking through the house mid-renovation. Even though it’s unfinished, you can already see glimpses of the finished home, evidence of what’s not fully visible yet.
When faith (the foundation) and hope (the blueprint) come together, it’s like welding two beams so they’ll never come apart. God uses that weld to forge something lasting inside of you — purpose. And that purpose isn’t just for you; it’s for others to see and be encouraged by. Just like a finished home becomes a place where others can find shelter, your story becomes a testimony that points people back to God.
I don’t like to live with “what ifs.” There’s freedom in that, because it pushes me to trust and take risks. But it also has its costs — sometimes I move ahead without the full picture, sometimes I learn through mistakes. Yet this is exactly where God meets me. Faith persuades me that He is present in the unknown, and hope anchors me in the confidence that even my missteps can be redeemed.
So rather than living with “what ifs,” I’m choosing to live with “God is.” He is persuading my heart. He is anchoring my hope. And He is forging my purpose — not just for me, but for someone else too.
Reflection
Renovations are messy, but they reveal what’s holding everything together. In the same way, God may be stripping things back in your life to weld faith and hope into something stronger. Don’t let that moment pass — it may be where He’s forging your purpose, not just for yourself but for someone else, too.
Takeaway
Faith — God’s unseen foundation persuading your heart to trust Him.
Hope — God’s blueprint anchoring you in confident expectation.
Welded together, they forge a purpose that becomes a visible testimony.
Prayer
Father, thank You for being the foundation under my life and the blueprint over it. Keep persuading my heart to trust You, even when things look unfinished. Anchor me in hope that doesn’t waver. And use my story as a place where others can find encouragement and shelter in You.
In Jesus’ name, Amén.
Heaven’s Commonwealth
“Let the Son bask,
Revealing you are heaven’s commonwealth.
And death to self is what certifies a bill of health.”
Plants lean toward light because they know they can’t live without it. Our souls are no different. Jesus said, “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12). To bask in the Son is to let His presence warm what’s cold in us, and bring life where we’ve gone dry.
And when you do, you realize something: you don’t just belong here — you belong there.
Paul wrote, “Our citizenship is in heaven” (Philippians 3:20). The Greek word he uses is politeuma — citizenship, community, even commonwealth.
That word hits different if your country is a commonwealth. My family is from Puerto Rico, a commonwealth of the U.S. Citizens, but not with full rights. Belonging, but still treated as less. And if you’re caught living in the in-between, sometimes it feels like we’re ni de aquí ni de allá (neither from here nor from there).
But the truth in Christ is: somos de aquí y de allá (we are from here and from there). We live on earth, but our identity is secured in heaven. We work jobs, raise families, and wrestle with bills here — but our names are written in glory there.
And here’s the paradox: the way to live is to die. Jesus said, “Whoever loses their life for me will save it” (Luke 9:24). Death to self is the strange diagnosis that actually certifies real health.
In old times, a “bill of health” was a document given to ships declaring they were free from disease and safe to sail. Today, it’s a medical report proving someone is healthy. Spiritually, our bill of health isn’t self-preservation — it’s self-denial. Dying to self is the certificate that we are truly alive in Christ.
So what does dying to self look like? It’s choosing the Spirit’s fruit instead of my natural reaction:
When I want to lash out in anger, I choose to be patient.
When selfishness rises, I choose kindness.
When envy creeps in, I choose love.
When worry consumes me, I choose peace.
This is not willpower — it’s surrender. It’s letting Christ’s Spirit replace what comes naturally with what comes supernaturally.
The Son is the revealer of our true identity — showing us we are not second-class, not forgotten, but citizens of heaven with full belonging.
Takeaway
Your truest identity isn’t in where you come from or what culture says about you. It’s in Christ. And dying to self means letting His Spirit win over your natural reactions.
Prayer
Jesus, let me bask in Your light and find my identity in You alone. Teach me to leave “self” behind and die daily — to choose patience over anger, kindness over selfishness, peace over worry, and love over envy. Thank You that in You I have full belonging — here and in heaven.
In Jesus’ name, Amén.
Cultivated Culture
Health is cultivated weeding out the trauma dealt.
“Beloved, I pray that all may go well with you and that you may be in good health, as it goes well with your soul.”
3 John 1:2
When John prays for the soul, he’s not picturing a ghost inside the body waiting to escape.
That idea comes more from Plato than the prophets.
In Scripture, the soul (nephesh/psyche) is the whole you — body, breath, emotions, relationships, life before God. To be well in soul means every part of life is aligned under His reign.
The Greek word John uses (euodoomai) means “to have a good journey.”
It’s not about chasing riches or perfect health — it’s about walking a path where your outer life reflects the inner health of your soul.
When the soul is sick, the body and mind carry the weight.
But when the soul is rooted in Christ—even in suffering—life flourishes in a deeper way.
Don’t let culture estimate your wealth.
Its scale is broken, with an off-balanced view of reality.
It counts what you collect;
The Kingdom of God counts who you’re becoming.
Health is cultivated weeding out the trauma dealt.
Cultivation isn’t just planting seeds; it’s pulling weeds:
Lies that suffocate truth.
Habits that choke growth.
Wounds that spread when ignored.
And since culture comes from cultivation, the question is: what are you growing?
Weeds left alone build a culture of greed, fear, and comparison.
But surrendered to God’s hand, even soil scarred by trauma can grow forgiveness, peace, and love.
That’s not prosperity. That’s not perfection.
That’s kingdom culture.
wholeness cultivated here and now.
Reflection
What weeds need to be pulled so new growth can come?
Where have you let culture’s scoreboard define your worth?
What would it look like if the kingdom of God shaped your culture — at home, at work, in your friendships?
Prayer
Lord, thank You that You care for my whole self — body, mind, spirit, and relationships.
Pull up the weeds of trauma, lies, and fear.
Cultivate my life so faith, peace, and love can grow.
Let the culture I carry reflect Your kingdom,
here and now, on earth as it is in heaven.
In Jesus’ Name, Amén.
The Face God Sees
“The man asked him, ‘What is your name?’ ‘Jacob,’ he answered. Then the man said, ‘Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.’”
Genesis 32:27–28
The last time I actively intended to be someone else, I was in high school. I got caught skipping and told the officer my name was “Alberto Rodriguez.” That alias lasted about five minutes before I was caught in the lie and had to come clean.
But there are other times I’ve passively slipped into being someone else. Like when I first started doing music under the name “Willyton.” That persona wasn’t even mine—it was just a mashup of every reggaeton artist I listened to and every reckless movie character I idolized. A mask to hide my true face.
And then, without even realizing it, I built another mask—this time inside religion. A “Christian persona.” I remember in my first year of following Jesus, my brother told me: “You looked happier when you weren’t following Jesus. You always look miserable now, and I don’t want to follow a Jesus that dries you up.” Looking back, I don’t even blame him. I had constructed my own Christ, which was just a compilation of other people’s views and thoughts. I even lied once about no longer struggling with lust, so that I wouldn’t “give a bad witness,” or diminish God’s power! That’s crazy to think about now, but that’s what masks do.
We don’t start out hiding by accident. At first, it’s an active intention—like giving a fake name. Then it slips into passive intention—like performing as an artist. And before long, it becomes unintentional—a religious persona we don’t even notice we’re wearing. We get comfortable in the habitat we move in, and the habits become second nature.
Jacob’s Mask
Jacob knew what it was to wear a persona. He put on Esau’s clothes, covered his arms in goat hair, and even changed his voice to steal his brother’s blessing. He got what he wanted in the moment—but it came with years of running, conflict, and hiding.
Because here’s the truth: Jacob got words spoken over him while pretending to be Esau, but the real blessing only came when he came clean before God. You can fake your way into approval, but you can’t fake your way into transformation.
That’s why, at the river, God asked him for his name. Not Esau’s. Not an alias. His true one. And when Jacob finally admitted it, God gave him a new name—and a new identity.
There’s a Japanese proverb that says:
The first face you show the world.
The second face you show to your close friends and family.
The third face you never show anyone. That face is your truest self.
But here’s the truth: God can’t bless the mask. He can only bless the real you. That’s why in the wrestling match, He asked Jacob for his name. Not Esau’s. Not a fake alias. His real one. And the blessing came only when Jacob came clean.
Lyrics:
“I’m calling you back
From this persona you made for yourself,
How’d you expect a blessing trying to be somebody else?”
Takeaway:
The faces we wear might protect us, but they can never bless us.
God’s blessing only meets the real you.
Reflection Question:
Which face have I been living from—and what would it look like to let God meet me in my truest one?
Prayer:
Lord, strip away the faces I wear to hide, impress, or perform. I don’t want to live behind a mask anymore. Meet me in my true self—the one You created, the one You bless, the one You love.
In Jesus’ name, amén.
Pure Imagination
“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.”
1 Corinthians 2:9
I’ve always loved the song Pure Imagination (this is my favorite cover) from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. There’s something about the lyrics,
“Come with me, and you’ll be,
In a world of pure imagination.
Take a look, and you’ll see,
Into your imagination…”
It stirs up a sense of wonder.
But even my favorite song about imagination can’t touch the reality Paul describes. Because when God imagines, it’s not just a dream, it’s creation. His imagination has power. The moment He speaks, galaxies form, oceans roar, and life begins.
Sometimes we read this verse like Paul is only talking about God’s plans in heaven. But loving God doesn’t start when we step into glory; it begins now. And right now, there are things you can’t imagine that God can do.
I’ve seen it with my own eyes:
a marriage on the brink of divorce restored to joy and unity,
Someone dropping off groceries at my doorstep with an empty fridge and an emptier bank account,
a check for the exact amount needed to help a nonprofit stay open,
A CashApp notification came in for the exact amount I needed to pay my mortgage.
I’ve heard it with my own ears:
friends who were atheists profess Jesus as Lord,
words of encouragement that carried me through the valley of death,
a song lyric or sermon arriving right on time when I was in despair.
and sooooooo much more!
Willy Wonka sang about stepping into a world of imagination. God invites us into something even greater: a life beyond imagination, where His creative power and strength meet us here and now.
So when He whispers, “I’m calling you back,” it’s not just to ordinary life. It’s into His imagination! real, present, and more beautiful than you’ve ever dreamed.
Takeaway: God’s imagination doesn’t just shape eternity—it transforms your reality right now.
Reflection Question: Where do you need to believe that God can do more than you’ve imagined—today?
Prayer:
God, thank You that Your imagination is bigger than mine. Thank You that You don’t just dream, You create. You speak, and worlds take shape. You call me back, and You give me strength to change. Open my eyes to see the ways You’re already moving in my life. Help me to trust that what You’ve prepared for me is greater than anything I could picture on my own.
In Jesus’ name, Amén.
If You Relapse
“For though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again…”
Proverbs 24:16
I truly believe we are all addicted to something.
We all have an itch — it’s just how we choose to scratch it that differs.
For some, it’s obvious. For others, it hides in places people applaud: ambition, approval, work, even religion. But no matter the form, the itch is real. And sometimes, we relapse.
Relapse can feel like erasure. Like the progress we’ve made suddenly doesn’t count. Like we’re right back at zero.
And that’s exactly what the word means. Relapse comes from Latin: re- meaning “back” and labi meaning “to slip.” To relapse is literally “to slip back.”
But here’s the hope: while relapse means “to slip back,” redemption means “to be pulled forward again.”
Grace doesn’t erase your progress — it meets you in your slip and pulls you forward. Falling isn’t final. Slipping isn’t the same as being abandoned. And God’s mercy is always stronger than the ground you fell on.
Denzel Washington once said:
“If I’m going to fall, I don’t want to fall back on anything, except my faith. I want to fall forward. At least this way I’ll see what I’m about to hit.”
Even in failure, you can fall forward, because Christ redeems what you slip on and turns it into ground you can stand on.
And here’s where the gospel digs even deeper: relapse is one kind of slipping back, but repentance is another.
James Clear in Atomic Habits says every habit runs on a loop: Cue → Craving → Response → Reward. Relapse happens when the wrong loop pulls us back into old patterns. But repentance — metanoia — is a paradigm shift.
The Greek word metanoia means “to change your mind,” but in Jesus, it’s more than that. Repentance isn’t just turning away from sin — it’s slipping back into who you were intended to be. Your true self is in God through Christ.
Relapse is slipping back into the false self.
Repentance is slipping back into the true self.
When you repent, God doesn’t just forgive you, He reorients you:
Cue: His Word awakens you.
Craving: His presence draws you.
Response: His Spirit empowers you.
Reward: His life renews you.
Repentance is grace breaking the old loop and restoring the original design.
Repentance is always one decision away.
Grace is always one breath away.
And if you are reading this right now, you are already breathing grace and life.
Lyrics Connection
If you relapse
And are able to breathe in grace and life,
You can still change up your mind —
Don’t buy the lies.
Lies are expensive. They lead to debt and ruin. Every time we believe them, we’re paying with peace we didn’t need to lose. But truth is free, and in Christ, truth always sets you free.
Takeaways
Relapse means “to slip back,” but grace always pulls you forward.
Repentance (metanoia) is not just turning from sin — it’s returning to your true self in Christ.
Lies are expensive; they will always cost you more than the truth.
Prayer
Lord, when I slip, remind me that relapse is not the end of my story. Breathe Your grace into me again. Shift my mind, rewire my heart, and pull me back into who You made me to be. Thank You that even in my falls, I can fall forward into Your mercy and grace.
In Jesus’ name, Amén.
The Trees You Walk By
Notice the trees that you are walking by / and the fruit that they produce and knowledge it provides.
“By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles?”
Matthew 7:16
In the beginning, right in the middle of the garden, there were two trees.
The tree of life.
And the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
God’s desire was simple: that we would continually choose from the tree of life — living in relational obedience and trust in Him.
But when our first parents reached for the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, their choice declared something deeper: “I know what’s best for my life. I know just as much as God.”
That declaration still echoes today. Even now, we walk between those two trees. And the question is: what fruit are we picking?
Jesus warned His disciples: not everyone who looks spiritual, teaches well, or carries influence is worth following. The test isn’t the outfit, the charisma, or even the words. The test is the fruit. “By their fruit you will recognize them.”
That’s what the lyric says:
“Take a step back / Notice the trees that you are walking by / And the fruit that they produce and knowledge it provides.”
But here’s the danger: sometimes you’re moving so fast, you never stop to notice. You just reach for whatever’s in front of you.
And fruit is everywhere.
It can look like a relationship — but does it leave you nourished or drained?
It can look like a habit — but is it shaping peace or shame?
It can look like ambition — but is it producing joy or just fatigue?
It can look like influence — but does it build others or only feed self-esteem?
The truth is, fruit always reveals the root. You can fake leaves for a season, but you can’t fake fruit forever.
That’s why Jesus calls us to discernment. To slow down. To look closely at the trees along our path.
Because sooner or later, you will eat the fruit you’ve been walking by.
The German philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach once said,
“Man is what he eats.”
He wasn’t talking about diets but about how what we consume — physically, mentally, spiritually — becomes who we are. His point lands the same way Jesus’ warning does: what you feed on will eventually define you.
But here’s the good news: Jesus on the cross became the new Tree of Life. And its fruit is His very character — love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control — the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians.
Through Him, we don’t just avoid bad fruit. We’re invited to feast on eternal life.
So maybe the question isn’t just, “Where am I going?” but, “What tree am I reaching for?”
⸻
Reflection
What “trees” have you been walking by without noticing?
What fruit are your habits, relationships, or influences producing in you?
And today, are you reaching for the fruit of self, or the fruit of Christ?
Prayer
Lord, thank You that in Jesus You’ve given me the Tree of Life again. Teach me to reach for His fruit — to taste and see that You are good. Root me in You, so that my life reflects Your character and produces fruit that lasts.
In Jesus’ name, Amén.
Misguided Maps
Inclination to the flesh will leave an appetite.
“There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death.”
Proverbs 14:12
I’ve traveled a lot in my brief life. Planes, highways, backroads. Coast to coast, even overseas. And if there’s one thing traveling taught me, it’s this: you can be moving fast, covering miles, and still be lost if you’re following the wrong map.
The first “map” in human history wasn’t written on paper; it was whispered in a garden.
The serpent handed Eve directions that looked official, sounded convincing, and promised more: “Eat this, and you’ll be like God.”
But here’s the thing: God had already given a map.
It was simple: “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.”
The true map was freedom with boundaries, abundance with one safeguard.
But Eve trusted the counterfeit directions instead.
Eve noticed that the fruit looked good, desirable, even wise.
But that map was misguided.
It didn’t lead to glory; it led to shame, fear, and distance.
That’s what the lyric says:
“Misguided maps / leads to the valleys only chasing highs / Inclination to the flesh will leave an appetite.”
Ever noticed that?
The chase always promises a feast but leaves you hungrier.
That appetite doesn’t always look like food.
It can look like money — stacking more, but never feeling secure.
It can look like relationships — hoping someone broken will fix your broken.
It can appear to be approval — living for likes and applause that fade away in a day.
It can look like success — the high of achievement that vanishes the moment you clock out.
It can look like pleasure — the hit, the drink, the hookup that leaves you emptier in the morning.
It can appear to be control — trying to manage everything, yet still lying awake, anxious.
It can look like status — chasing titles, clout, and crowns that rust.
It can look like stuff — cars, clothes, tech that lose their shine faster than they were bought.
It can even look like knowledge — knowing more, but still feeling hollow.
Or escape — scrolling, bingeing, numbing, anything but being still.
All of it feeds the appetite. None of it fills the soul.
Stephen Covey once said,
“People may spend their whole lives climbing the ladder of success only to find, once they reach the top, that the ladder is leaning against the wrong wall.”
That’s what misguided maps do. They get you somewhere, just not where you were meant to be.
BUT THE GOOD NEWS!!!!
Even when Adam & Eve ate, God still came walking in the garden.
Even when the first map led humanity astray, His voice called out, “Where are you?”
The true path still survives.
So maybe the question isn’t, “How did I end up here?” but, “Who’s calling me back?”
Reflection
Where have you been following a “map” that keeps leaving you empty?
What appetite have you been chasing that still hasn’t been satisfied?
And what ladders in your life might be leaning against the wrong wall?
Prayer
God, I’ve chased the wrong highs and fed the wrong appetite.
Redirect me. Lead me back to the path where You satisfy.
Not Surprised
From this labyrinth that we call life / Everybody makes a wrong turn at least once or twice.
Isaiah 30:21
“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying,
‘This is the way; walk in it.’”
Life feels like a labyrinth sometimes. You move forward thinking you’re on the right track with a clear horizon, only to hit a wall that appears in the blink of an eye. You take a turn that looks promising, and it leads to dead ends. That’s the human story; we all have a chapter of wrong turns. Some we saw coming, others caught us by surprise.
That’s the scene in Isaiah. God’s people, Judah, were boxed in. Instead of trusting His direction, they tried to make their way through alliances, strategies, and shortcuts. All they did was end deeper in the maze.
BUT God didn’t abandon them to wander. He didn’t say, “Good luck finding your way out!” As some of us would be tempted to say, once our patience took a vacation. He gave them this promise:
“You’ll hear My voice behind you, saying, This is the way.”
That’s the same tone ringing in these lyrics:
”I’m calling you back / From this labyrinth that we call life / Everybody makes a wrong turn at least once or twice.”
It’s not a shaming voice. It’s not a voice saying, “Fix it and then we’ll talk.” Many times, that’s our voice or the voices of previous generations echoing. But God’s voice is the kind that meets you where you are in the maze, at the dead end, on the wrong turn, and says, “I still want you. Come back.”
Just last Monday, August 11th, 2025, I got let go from my job. The job is coming to an end, and I have already survived 4 waves of layoffs. Monday is not the norm for letting someone go, but there was my boss handing me the paper of termination of employment. But I was not surprised. The week before, God had already shown me in a dream what was going to happen. I saw a paper being handed to me and everything that played out.
That moment reminded me: if God knew about my layoff before it happened, then He’s not surprised by any of my ups and downs. Not the wall I’ve run into. Not the wrong turns I’ve made. Not the seasons where I’ve felt lost. If He already went ahead of me in this, then He’s already ahead of me in everything.
Takeaways
Wrong turns don’t disqualify you; they remind you how much you need direction.
God’s voice doesn’t just guide; it prepares you before you even get there.
He’s not surprised by your setbacks, so don’t waste time coming back.
Prayer
God, thank You that You’re never caught off guard by my story. You see the walls before I hit them, and You see the exits before I do. Thank You that even in the labyrinth, Your voice still finds me. Call me back, and help me trust the path You’re leading me on.
In Jesus’ name, Amén
I Want You Back
If you ever go off the way
Malachi 3:7 — “Return to me, and I will return to you,” says the Lord Almighty.
Sometimes “off the way” looks obvious.
You made choices you knew would blow things up, and now you’re living in the fallout.
Other times, “off the way” is subtle — you’re still showing up, still saying the right things, but inside… you’ve been gone for a while.
That’s the scene in Malachi.
Israel was back from exile. The temple was rebuilt. They were doing the rituals, keeping the calendar, making the offerings. But God looked past the schedule and saw hearts that were tired, distracted, and half in.
And instead of dropping judgment, He dropped an invitation:
“Return to me, and I will return to you.”
That’s the same tone in these lyrics:
If you ever go off the way, know / You are loved way more than you know…
It’s not about guilt-tripping you into “being better.”
It’s not a probation contract.
It’s God saying, I still want you. The version of you that’s messy. The version of you that’s tired. The version of you that thinks they’ve gone too far to matter.
Takeaways
You can be lost in the crowd or lost on the run — both need the same love.
God’s call isn’t about fixing yourself first. It’s about turning toward the One who’s already moving toward you.
Returning is less about a location and more about a connection.
Prayer:
God, whether I’ve sprinted away or slowly drifted, I hear You. Pull me out of the noise, out of the numbness, back to where I can see You clearly. Thank You for wanting me when I didn’t even want myself. Amen.
Bring the Lamb, Not the Fruit.
Cain the Pharisee & Abel the Sinner
If I’m honest, I’ve had seasons where I came to God with a full basket—good works, gratitude, generosity—and still felt… off.
Ever been there?
Like something was missing?
Like the songs were sung, the prayers prayed, the checklist complete—but the offering didn’t land?
That tension isn’t new. It’s as old as Genesis.
It’s the tension between Cain and Abel.
And Jesus reframes it later in His parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector.
Two different scenes. Same issue:
One brought a DIY version of worship. The other brought what God required.
1. Not All Offerings Are the Same
Genesis 4:3–5 says both brothers brought an offering to the Lord.
But there’s a hidden layer here:
Cain brought fruit from the ground—which in Levitical law would later be known as a thanksgiving offering.
It wasn’t wrong by category—it just wasn’t right for the moment.
Abel brought the firstborn of his flock, a blood offering, a sacrifice.
This wasn’t just symbolic—it was prophetic. It pointed forward to the kind of offering God accepts for covering sin.
So when God “had regard for Abel’s offering, but not Cain’s,” it wasn’t favoritism—it was alignment with His will.
Some scholars argue Cain had access to animals but chose not to bring one. Others say his heart posture polluted the gift. Either way:
He brought something God hadn’t asked for—and expected it to be accepted.
That’s the definition of DIY worship.
2. The Pharisee Brought Fruit Too
Fast forward to Luke 18.
Jesus tells a story about two men who go to the temple to pray.
The Pharisee doesn’t ask for mercy. He thanks God for how good he is.
He’s not a liar. He fasts. He tithes. He’s moral.
But his prayer is basically a thanksgiving offering—full of fruit.
The Tax Collector, meanwhile, beats his chest and begs:
“God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
There’s no offering of fruit here. No track record. Just repentance.
And Jesus says: That man—the one with nothing but need—went home justified.
Just like Abel.
3. The Trap of DIY Worship
This is where it hits home for me.
Cain didn’t reject God—he just customized the terms.
He said, in essence:
“God, I’ll bring You something good. Something from my labor. Something I’m proud of.”
And that’s what so many of us do.
We treat God like a client we’re pitching to:
“Look at my creativity. My success. My discipline. My theology. My gratitude. My tithes. My art.”
But God isn’t impressed by fruit that replaces the lamb.
DIY worship is when we try to replace sacrifice with sincerity,
obedience with effort,
God’s terms with our ideas.
It’s worship without surrender.
And it’s still rejected.
4. Worship That Costs Something
Let’s not forget: Abel’s lamb bled.
His worship cost him something.
Not just effort—but sacrifice.
It wasn’t symbolic. It was surrender.
The lamb didn’t just represent his devotion—it bled for it.
The tax collector’s prayer cost him too.
His pride. His image. His place in the room.
He beat his chest because his heart was already broken.
Cain’s didn’t.
He brought fruit—clean, curated, something he worked for.
But it didn’t cost him anything that would challenge his ego.
The Pharisee’s didn’t.
He brought his résumé.
Gratitude without repentance.
Confidence without confession.
That’s the difference.
One came empty and was filled.
The other came full and walked away empty.
And here’s something I’ve come to realize:
Worship that doesn’t bleed might not have bowed.
If your offering never carries a wound, it might still be waiting at the altar—never truly surrendered.
God isn’t just looking for what you produce.
He wants what hurts.
What humbles.
What bleeds.
He wants the parts we’d rather keep hidden.
Because the altar was never meant to hold our polish.
It was built to receive our pain.
5. So What Am I Really Offering?
Sometimes I wonder if God looks at my “fruit basket” of work and whispers,
“It’s nice… but where’s the lamb?”
Have I brought Him gratitude without repentance?
Activity without intimacy?
Sincerity without sacrifice?
God is still seeking Abels and Tax Collectors—the ones who come low, come empty, come real.
Reflection Questions
Am I bringing what God desires—or just what I’m good at producing?
Have I confused thankfulness with transformation?
What would it look like to offer God the “lamb” in this season of my life?
Prayer
God,
I don’t want to customize worship.
I don’t want to offer fruit when You’ve asked for the lamb.
Forgive me for sincere offerings that dodge obedience.
For gratitude that ignores surrender.
For worship that costs nothing.
Make me more like Abel.
More like the tax collector.
Honest. Dependent. Sacrificial.
And always in need of Your mercy.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
“Getting Right”
“Getting Right” – Devotional Excerpt
“I never left; I was getting right. Got lost, ‘where are you?’ Addressing what others like.”
Life can pull us in different directions, making us feel lost or stuck trying to meet others' expectations. But Romans 12:2 reminds us to fix our attention on God and allow Him to transform us from the inside out. Growth isn’t always about moving forward—it’s about realigning with what truly matters.
Blaise Pascal once said, “The most common form of despair is not being who you are.” When we live for others instead of walking in our God-given purpose, we risk losing ourselves. Taking time to “get right” isn’t wasted—it’s a necessary step in becoming who God created you to be.
Ask yourself today: What’s been pulling you off course? Are you focused on your purpose or trying to meet expectations that aren’t yours to carry?
Action Step: Write down what matters most to you and take one step toward it today. Growth takes time, but clarity starts with a choice.
Devotional Thought 2: “Getting Right”
“I never left; I was getting right. Got lost, ‘where are you?’ Addressing what others like.”
Here’s what Romans 12:2 says in The Message translation:
“Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.”
Life has a way of pulling us in different directions, often making us feel lost or off track. Sometimes, it’s because we’re too busy trying to live up to what others expect of us—addressing what they like instead of focusing on what truly matters to us. In these moments, it’s important to pause and recalibrate. Growth doesn’t always mean moving forward; sometimes, it’s about stepping back to realign with your values and purpose.
“I never left; I was getting right” is a reminder that it’s okay to take time to reassess. Søren Kierkegaard once said,
“The most common form of despair is not being who you are.”
When we try to live for others, we risk losing ourselves, which only adds to the sense of being lost.
To “get right,” we need to ask ourselves hard questions: Am I chasing what’s important to me, or am I just trying to please others? What truly matters in this season of my life? Taking the time to reconnect with yourself—even when it feels like a setback—is one of the most valuable steps you can take.
Today, ask yourself:
What’s been pulling you off course lately? Are you focusing on your purpose, or are you caught up in trying to meet others’ expectations?
Reflection:
What’s one area in your life where you feel lost?
Action Step:
Write down what matters most to you and one step you can take to focus on that. Remember, real growth takes time and clarity.
Taking the time to “get right” is never wasted. It’s part of the journey to becoming who God created you to be.
“Stay Locked In”
Excerpt from “Stay Locked In”
“Stay locked in, not boxed in, keep on going, never stoppin’.”
Life throws distractions our way—fear, doubt, failure—but God calls us to run with endurance. Hebrews 12:1-2 (MSG) reminds us:
“Strip down, start running—and never quit! Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in.”
Staying locked in doesn’t mean you won’t struggle; it means you won’t let struggles define you. Jesus never lost sight of where He was headed. Neither should you.
What’s one thing you can let go of today to stay focused on what matters most?
Devotional Thought 1: “Stay Locked In”
“Stay locked in, not boxed in, keep on going, never stoppin’.”
Life often feels like a marathon. Between work, family, relationships, and personal goals, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed or stuck. Hebrews 12:1-2 reminds us to focus on what truly matters. It tells us to set aside distractions, let go of what weighs us down and stay focused on the bigger picture.
Hebrews 12:1-2 (MSG) reminds us to focus on what truly matters:
“Do you see what this means—all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? It means we’d better get on with it. Strip down, start running—and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins. Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God.”
Staying “locked in” means keeping your priorities straight, even when life throws curveballs. It’s about breaking free from the mental and emotional “boxes” that hold you back—self-doubt, fear of failure, or the pressure to be perfect. Ellen G. White beautifully said,
“True success in any line of work is not the result of chance or accident or destiny. It is the outworking of God’s providences, the reward of faith and discretion, of virtue and perseverance.”
(Source: Christ’s Object Lessons)
When struggles arise, remind yourself why you’re running this race. Focus on the small victories, the people cheering you on, and the goals you’ve set for yourself. Perseverance doesn’t mean never stumbling; it means getting back up and moving forward, one step at a time.
Today, ask yourself: What’s boxing you in? What can you let go of to stay locked in on what matters most? Take a deep breath, refocus, and keep going.
Reflection: What’s one thing you can do today to stay focused on your goals?
Action Step: Write down one distraction or obstacle you’re facing, and one step you can take to overcome it.
Remember, progress comes from consistency, not perfection. This devotional encourages us to stay focused on our purpose, grounded in faith, and confident in God’s plan, no matter the challenges we face.