Christ - My Journey - How Full Is Your Spirit?

Monday, 5 May 2025

Free Will and the Book of Life: Wrestling with a Question That Won’t Let Go

Free Will and the Book of Life: Wrestling with a Question That Won’t Let Go

Recently, I had the privilege of catching up with my good friend Steve over dinner. If you know Steve, then you know he’s one of those people who doesn’t waste breath. He speaks thoughtfully, lives intentionally, and when he asks a question, it’s never surface-level. Our visits are usually filled with laughter, truth, and at least one moment where I’m left with a “hmmmm” that lingers long after the meal is over.

This time was no different. As we sat there sharing stories and scripture, I began talking about my Christian walk—about how I believe God loves us completely and longs for us to love Him in return. Not because we’re forced to, but because we choose to. That, to me, is the power and beauty of free will.

Then Steve dropped a question on the table like a stone into still water: “Isn’t it written at the beginning whether our names are in the Book of Life?”

Now, I’ve read the Bible. I’ve taught the Bible. I’ve lived parts of it out and wrestled with others. But this question—this particular theological knot—unraveled something in me that I haven’t been able to ignore since. If God knows all things, if He sees the end from the beginning, and if our names are already written in the Book of Life… do we actually have free will? Or is our story already written in permanent ink?

Wrestling with the Tension

To be honest, I didn’t have a clean answer for Steve that night. I still don’t. But I know what I believe. I believe in free will. Not because I’ve solved the mystery of God's sovereignty versus human choice, but because I believe love—real love—requires freedom.

If I could only love God because I was programmed to, like a machine, that’s not love. That’s automation. But God, in His goodness, doesn’t create robots. He creates image-bearers (Genesis 1:27), capable of choosing Him or rejecting Him.

Let’s go back to the Garden. Adam and Eve had a choice. God placed the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in Eden (Genesis 2:16–17) and gave them the ability to say yes or no. That, right there, was free will. God allowed them to love Him through obedience or to walk away through disobedience. And sadly, they chose the latter.

But what does that tell us? It tells us that from the very beginning, love involved risk. The risk that we would walk away. And yet, God thought it was worth it. He wanted children, not puppets. Worshippers, not slaves.

The Book of Life Paradox

Now, back to the uncomfortable part—Steve’s question. Revelation 13:8 says, “All who dwell on the earth will worship him [the beast], whose names have not been written in the Book of Life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.”

Ephesians 1:4 echoes something similar: “He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world.”

That’s heavy. That’s predestination talk. That’s “God already knows” language. And if you read Romans 8:29–30, it seems to get even heavier: “For those God foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son.”

So is it all fixed? Are we just playing out a script already written? It would almost seem so, if not for the countless times Scripture calls us to choose.

“Choose this day whom you will serve.” (Joshua 24:15)
“Come to me, all you who are weary…” (Matthew 11:28)
“Repent, and be baptized…” (Acts 2:38)
“If anyone hears My voice and opens the door…” (Revelation 3:20)

These are invitations—not demands. These are calls to action that hinge on our response. If we had no real agency, why bother with any of that?

This is where the paradox lives. God knows the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:10). His foreknowledge doesn’t remove our freedom—it just means He already sees the choices we will freely make. God stands outside of time. He’s not limited to a linear sequence like we are. That’s hard for our minds to grasp, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

Just because I know it will rain tomorrow doesn’t mean I’m causing the rain. My knowledge doesn’t force the event—it just sees it ahead of time. God’s knowledge is deeper and more perfect than ours, but His knowing is not the same as dictating.

Without Free Will, the Gospel Falls Flat

Here’s the heart of it: if we don’t have free will, then what is the point of the Gospel?

Why would Jesus plead with us to follow Him if the outcome is already decided and we have no choice?

The entire arc of Scripture—Genesis to Revelation—is a love story rooted in redemption, and redemption only matters if we had something to be redeemed from by choice.

When Peter denied Jesus three times, that was his choice (Luke 22:61–62). When David slept with Bathsheba and had her husband killed, that was his choice (2 Samuel 11). When Paul persecuted Christians before his conversion, those were his choices (Acts 9:1–6). And in all three stories, God’s mercy met man’s mistakes not to override them, but to restore them.

Grace is only amazing when it meets us in the freedom of our fallenness.

The Bleak Alternative

To live without free will is to live without meaning. If everything is mapped out, and we’re just actors reading lines, then where is the depth in faith? Where is the reward in obedience? Where is the heartbreak in disobedience?

God doesn’t delight in forced affection. He’s not impressed with a “yes” that was wired into our DNA without a choice to say “no.”

Think about this: Jesus wept over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41–44). Why? Because they could have received Him—but didn’t. They chose not to. That’s free will.

So when I think about Steve’s question, I come back to this: I’d rather wrestle with the mystery of a loving, sovereign God who knows all than accept the conclusion that I’m just a prewritten code in a cosmic machine. One brings dignity. The other breeds despair.

Three Strategies for Understanding Free Will Biblically

If you’re like me and this question still tugs at your heart, here are three strategies I’ve found helpful for digging deeper—while not getting lost in the weeds.

A. Embrace the Mystery Without Abandoning the Mission

Scripture contains tension on purpose. It’s not a puzzle to be solved as much as a truth to be walked out. There are some things we will never fully grasp this side of heaven (1 Corinthians 13:12).

Instead of demanding full clarity, ask: What does God require of me today? Micah 6:8 gives us the answer: “To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”

B. Anchor in the Teachings of Jesus

When it gets too cloudy, come back to Jesus. He always gave people a choice.

“Follow Me.”
“Go and sin no more.”
“Do you want to be healed?”
“Why do you call Me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I say?”

Jesus never forced Himself on anyone. The love He modeled was invitational, not coercive. Build your understanding of free will around the words and ways of Christ.

C. Let the Fruit Be Your Guide

Galatians 5:22–23 talks about the fruit of the Spirit. These things—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness—don’t grow in a life of spiritual automation. They require relationship, pruning, surrender, and yes, choice.

When in doubt, ask: Is this view producing fruit that reflects Jesus? If your belief in God’s sovereignty removes all urgency from your faith, all pursuit of holiness, and all joy in obedience, you may need to reframe how you’re interpreting Scripture.

Closing Thoughts: Faith That Moves, Not Fate That Binds

I still don’t have a perfect answer for Steve. But I do have peace.

Peace in the fact that God is big enough to know my end and still let me walk the road toward it, one choice at a time. Peace in the knowledge that His mercy meets me whether I run, crawl, or trip my way forward. And peace in the truth that love is only real when it’s freely given.

As I write this, maybe you’re pondering the same question. Maybe you’ve felt stuck in the tension of “Is it all written?” or “Do I actually matter in God’s plan?” Friend, the very fact that you’re asking those questions is evidence of your free will. You’re searching. You’re seeking. You’re choosing to care about the things of God. That’s not meaningless.

That’s beautiful.

So choose today. Not because you have to—but because you can. Choose to walk with Jesus. Choose to trust in His grace. Choose to believe that your decisions matter because your heart matters to the One who formed it.

Whether or not we can fully explain the Book of Life, we can live in such a way that our love for Jesus is written on every page of our lives.

Wednesday, 30 April 2025

Should Have Syndrome—Revisited: The Story of Brandie and the Walk of Faith

Should Have Syndrome—Revisited: The Story of Brandie and the Walk of Faith

Those of you who follow my writing, you’ll remember that not long ago I shared a piece called “Should Have Syndrome.” If you haven’t read it yet, feel free to circle back later, but the short of it is this: many of us live with the regret of missed steps—those God-given nudges we ignored, the talents we buried, the courage we misplaced. And if I’m honest, I don’t write about these things from the mountaintop, as someone who’s “figured it all out.” No, I write about them because I’ve been there, sat in that valley, and wrestled with the same chains. I get it. I’ve felt the weight. I’ve sat in the silence and wondered, “What now?”

Which brings me to today’s story—one of restoration, resilience, and rebirth. And yes, as promised, I’m going to tell you a story. You know me by now—there’s always a story. And this one, well… she gave me permission to share it. So let’s rewind the clock, reset the scene, and step into the shoes of a child of God named Brandie.

Meet Brandie—A Daughter of the Most High

Brandie is not just a woman who knows Jesus. She breathes Him. You know those people—the ones who can walk into a room and change the atmosphere? That’s Brandie. She’s the kind of person who doesn’t have to shout about her faith because her life whispers it so beautifully that you lean in closer just to catch it. Her laugh has peace in it. Her eyes carry the kind of strength that doesn’t come from textbooks or TED Talks, but from time spent at the feet of the Lord.

She’s also a powerhouse business owner, running a successful operation with a team that respects her, not just for her business savvy, but for the way she leads—with grace and grit, rooted in truth. But Brandie’s role isn’t behind a desk. She’s hands-on, engaged, in the trenches. Some of her job responsibilities require physical labor—lifting, organizing, and staying mobile. And then, in October 2024, it happened.

The injury.

I won’t go into medical details, but let’s just say it was enough to sideline her from much of the physical work that had been part of her daily rhythm. And maybe that doesn’t sound earth-shattering to you. But think about it. You’ve built something. You’ve poured your life into it. It’s more than just a business—it’s a calling, a mission, a provision, a responsibility. And then suddenly, a single event shifts the whole thing.

Have you ever had something like that happen? Where it all seemed to be in alignment and then—bam—one unexpected turn sends you spiraling into the unknown?

I have. Maybe you have too.

And that’s where it creeps in.

Should Have Syndrome.

“I should have planned better for this.”

“I should have listened more carefully to the warning signs.”

“I should have trusted God differently.”

“I should have… I should have…”

Let me stop you right there. Because that’s the voice of guilt. That’s the enemy disguising himself as wisdom. And sometimes, you can’t even hear the Holy Spirit anymore because the volume of your regret is too loud.

But here’s the turning point in Brandie’s story—and maybe yours too. She didn’t stay there.

The Whisper in the Wait

I believe that in the moments when we are the weakest, the Holy Spirit speaks the loudest. Not because God suddenly cranks up the volume, but because we finally turn down everything else. When the to-do lists fade, when the routines are disrupted, when our strength is stripped away—that’s when God often gets our full attention.

And for Brandie, that moment came just days after her injury. She could have wallowed. She could have let fear win. She could have thrown herself a justified pity party with cupcakes and confetti and stayed there.

But she didn’t.

She listened.

And what she heard was the quiet nudge of the Holy Spirit saying, “There’s more. I’m not done with you yet.”

That’s when something remarkable happened.

She began a new project.

Now, let’s pause. Because I know some of you reading this are thinking, “Well, good for her. But I’m not Brandie. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

But that’s the thing. Brandie didn’t either.

All she knew was that she needed to take the next right step. Not leap five years into the future. Not chart out the whole business plan in one sitting. Just the next right step.

And she did.

She obeyed.

And obedience in the Kingdom always precedes the miracle.

Glory 2 Glory—Birthing the Vision

Fast forward to April 2025. Just a few days ago. I found myself parked in front of the bank, with a few minutes to spare before the doors opened. You ever have one of those pauses in life? A holy pause, where the Spirit says, “Look now.”

I opened up Brandie’s new website—her vision, her obedience, her ministry in motion.

And I felt it.

Goosebumps.

Tears.

You see, what Brandie launched wasn’t just a business. It was a God-breathed idea that was born from pain, refined by faith, and delivered through obedience.

Welcome to Glory2Glory Boutique—a place where fashion and faith collide, where every item carries not just style, but spiritual substance. It’s a boutique, yes, but it’s also a platform. A ministry. A message to the world that even when life changes your plans, God’s purpose never changes.

Brandie could have been stuck in the “should haves.” But she chose the “what ifs” of faith instead.

And I say this with conviction: Well done, good and faithful servant.

What We Can Learn—3 Ways to Follow Your God-Given Superpower

This story isn’t just for Brandie. It’s for you. It’s for me. It’s for anyone who has ever doubted their worth, their timing, or their capacity to start again.

You have a God-given superpower. A gift. A calling. And even if it’s buried under disappointment, it’s not dead.

Here are three ways to walk in it:

1. Surrender the Script

Let’s be honest—we all love control. We cling to our five-year plans, our expectations, our idea of how things “should” go. But faith isn’t about clinging. It’s about letting go.

Proverbs 3:5-6 reminds us:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

Brandie’s injury could have felt like the end. But instead of fighting for the old path, she surrendered to the new one.

What would happen if you did the same?

2. Obey Before You Understand

This one’s hard. We want the blueprint before we move. But God rarely works that way. He gives you just enough light for the next step. Why? Because He’s not just interested in your destination. He’s building your faith.

Think of Abraham, who went to a land he did not know.

Hebrews 11:8 says:

“By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called… and he went out, not knowing where he was going.”

Brandie obeyed the nudge. And that obedience unlocked a new calling.

You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just take the next step.

3. Shine Anyway

Your circumstances do not define your calling. Your pain does not cancel your purpose. If anything, your greatest ministry will often be born from your deepest trial.

Matthew 5:14 says:

“You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.”

The enemy wants your light hidden. He’ll use injury, insecurity, failure—whatever it takes.

But God says, “Shine anyway.”

Brandie could have dimmed her light in this season. Instead, she let it blaze even brighter.

This Is Your Invitation

So now it’s your turn. You’ve heard the story. You’ve seen the fruit of obedience. What will you do?

Maybe today is the day you dust off that idea God gave you years ago.

Maybe today is the day you stop saying “should have” and start saying “let’s go.”

Maybe today is the day you take the pain, the injury, the loss—and hand it to the Potter, trusting He can shape it into something beautiful.

You have a superpower, child of God.

It’s not a cape or a title.

It’s obedience.

It’s faith.

It’s Jesus in you, working through you.

Before I go, let me encourage you—support Brandie. Visit her boutique. Browse the pieces. Read the messages. Share the story.

Let her journey be a reminder that obedience births fruit, that surrender opens doors, and that God wastes nothing.

Here is the link:
👉 Glory2Glory Boutique

Support it. Pray over it. And let it spark something in your own walk with God.

From glory to glory—we’re all walking this out.

And Brandie, if you're reading this—thank you.

Thank you for your faith. Your fight. Your fire.

Your story is a sermon, and your boutique is a ministry.

Well done, good and faithful servant.

Saturday, 26 April 2025

The Death of a Pope, the Death of the World, and the Death of Ourselves

The Death of a Pope, the Death of the World, and the Death of Ourselves

With the recent death of the Pope, it didn’t take long for a lot of people — some Christian, some not — to start writing and posting about how this must be a clear signal that we are entering the end of days. I see it all over: Instagram preachers, TikTok prophets, YouTube documentaries hastily put together with ominous music in the background. It’s as if the whole world is desperate to tie together what they see today with what was written centuries ago — prophecies about the different popes, how when one thing happens to a certain pope, it means the clock on history itself is finally running out of time.

And to be honest, I get it. I really do.

From my own experiences in life, when something new happens — something that shakes me a bit or even just something exciting — my mind races ahead. I connect it back to what’s happened before, and then I start guessing what the future might look like. It's almost automatic. It’s the way we protect ourselves, right? We think, "If I know what’s coming, maybe I can brace for it. Maybe I can avoid being hurt."

But the more I walk with Christ, the more I see that God created us for something deeper than that.
He didn’t call us to be fortune-tellers.
He didn’t call us to live in anxiety.
He didn’t call us to live chained to yesterday’s mistakes or tomorrow’s fears.

When we gave our lives to Him, He erased our past sins — washed away completely by the blood of Jesus — and called us to live in the present moment through the power of the Holy Spirit.
Not clinging to yesterday.
Not panicking about tomorrow.
But being fully alive today.

When we obsess over guessing the future — whether it’s world events, the death of popes, or our own personal crossroads — we rob ourselves of the very thing Christ died to give us: abundant life right now.

Death at Conception

This might sound a little dark to some, but really, it’s the plain truth:
From the very moment God created the heavens and the earth, they began to die.
The moment Adam took his first breath, he was moving toward his last.
And every child born into this world — from the tiniest baby to the mightiest king — begins the slow, inevitable journey toward death the second they are conceived.

It’s not a curse in the way we think of it.
It’s part of the created order.

Genesis 3 shows us where death entered the story. Adam and Eve disobeyed, and the perfect, eternal life they were meant to live was broken. Death wasn’t supposed to be our story — but it is now. And even though Christ came and conquered death, even though He promises us eternal life with Him, these earthly bodies of ours are still decaying.

James 4:14 reminds us:
"What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes."

It’s sobering.
It’s humbling.
But it’s also freeing if we let it be.

We don’t have to cling so hard to this life.
We don’t have to predict when it will end.
Because if we’re walking with Christ, the moment of our physical death is simply the doorway to eternal life with Him.

The Temptation to Predict the Future

I think there's a deep yearning in all of us to make sense of the world around us.
When someone influential like the Pope dies, it shakes the foundation a little.
It reminds us that even the biggest figures on the world stage are still mortal, still human.
And so, we start pulling out the old prophecies, the visions, the interpretations, trying to read the tea leaves.

But here's the thing:
Jesus Himself warned us against living that way.

In Matthew 24:36, Jesus said:
"But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father."

If even Jesus — while He walked this earth — didn’t claim to know the hour, why do we think we can?

Instead of living on the edge of our seats, constantly scanning the horizon for signs of the end, Jesus calls us to be about His Father’s business.
To work while it is day.
To love while we still have breath.
To serve without wasting a single heartbeat.

Three Ways to Focus on Christ and Not Guess the Future

So, how do we do that?
How do we turn our hearts away from fortune-telling and fear, and back toward the face of Christ?

Here are three ways:

1. Live Daily in Active Obedience

One of the most powerful shifts in my own life has been realizing that following Christ is not a one-time decision — it’s an everyday surrender.
Luke 9:23 says:
"Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me."

Daily.
Not once a week.
Not when a big world event happens.
Not when it’s convenient.

If I’m living in active obedience today — loving my neighbor, forgiving my enemies, giving generously, serving faithfully — then I’m doing exactly what Jesus called me to do, no matter what tomorrow brings.

It doesn’t mean we bury our heads in the sand.
It means we trust that if we focus on living like Christ today, we’re ready for whatever tomorrow holds — without the guessing games.

2. Worship Instead of Worry

I know it sounds almost cliché, but it's true: worship and worry can't live in the same heart.
When the news gets loud and the internet starts boiling over with theories and predictions, it’s easy to get sucked in.
But Psalm 46:10 calls to us:
"Be still, and know that I am God."

Be still.
Not be frantic.
Not be investigative.
Not be anxious.

Worship centers us.
It reminds us who’s really in control.
It lifts our eyes from the crumbling thrones of men to the eternal throne of the King of Kings.

Instead of worrying about the death of a pope, the wars and rumors of wars, the shifting political powers — what if we worshiped louder?
What if, instead of doom-scrolling, we sang praise?
What if, instead of predicting, we prayed?

3. Love Without Reservation

When Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was, He didn’t say, “Figure out the signs of the times.”
He said this in Matthew 22:37-39:
"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind... and love your neighbor as yourself."

That’s it.
That’s the assignment.

The best preparation for the end — whether it comes in a thousand years or tomorrow — is to love recklessly today.
To love the people around you so well that they can't help but wonder about the hope inside you.
To live so generously, so humbly, so full of light, that darkness trembles when you walk into a room.

When we focus on love, we are focusing on Christ — because God is love.

Our Time is Always Short

Sometimes when I hear people say, "We must be in the end times," I want to say, "We’ve always been in the end times."

Paul thought he was living in the last days.
The early church lived like Jesus might return tomorrow — because maybe He would.

And so should we.

Not with panic.
Not with conspiracy theories.
But with urgency and purpose and joy.

Hebrews 10:24-25 says:
"And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together... but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching."

The Day is always approaching.
But the focus isn’t on the Day.
The focus is on how we live until it comes.

Final Thoughts: A Better Way to Watch

I’m not against watching the signs.
Jesus Himself told us to be awake, to be aware.
But there’s a difference between being awake and being obsessed.

Being awake means your lamp is full of oil, like the wise virgins in Matthew 25.
It means you’re ready.
It means you’re about your Father’s business.
It means you’re living a life that says, "Come, Lord Jesus," and really means it.

Obsessing, on the other hand, robs you of today.
It clouds your mind.
It paralyzes your heart.
It makes you a prisoner to fear instead of a child of faith.

So let’s be watchers.
But let’s be workers, too.
Let’s be worshipers.
Let’s be lovers of souls.
Let’s be builders of the Kingdom here and now, not fortune-tellers of a Kingdom that is already on its way.

Because the truth is, whether Christ comes back tonight or a thousand years from now, our mission hasn’t changed:
Live like Jesus.
Love like Jesus.
Serve like Jesus.

Until He calls us home.

Wednesday, 23 April 2025

Should Have Syndrome

Should Have Syndrome

Have you ever heard of “should have syndrome”? Maybe that’s not a clinical term or one you’ll find in the back of a Christian bookstore on a laminated bookmark, but I bet you know what I mean. It’s that quiet ache that whispers, "You should have done better." It’s the subtle drip that turns into a flood if you’re not careful. It’s the echo of regret bouncing off the walls of our soul.

I know it well.

I should have prayed more. I should have forgiven faster. I should have reached out. I should have tithed. I should have spoken truth when I stayed silent. I should have stayed home. I should have gone.

You get it.

For me, this “should have” spiral starts small, like forgetting to text someone back or skipping church one weekend. But then it grows. Like an invasive weed, it winds itself around my peace, chokes out joy, and whispers that I’m never going to be enough. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe I’m not supposed to be enough. Maybe grace starts where my should-haves end.

Let’s take a step back.

Jesus, Juice, and the Gemstones

Now, before we go much further, I want to get real for a moment. I’ve previously written about the show The Righteous Gemstones—and no, it’s not exactly a series you'd find on PureFlix or tucked in your church's video library. It’s raw. It’s extreme. It pokes at the bloated underbelly of televangelism and paints characters who are painfully flawed. And yet, I keep watching. Why?

Because somewhere in the chaos of the satire and the over-the-top ridiculousness, there’s a mirror. And sometimes that mirror is cleaner than we’d like to admit. I see parts of myself in the struggle to be righteous while stumbling over my humanity.

I don’t profess to be a righteous and perfect godly man. I don’t wear a halo, and I sure as Sunday morning don’t float two inches off the floor when I walk. I’m a bachelor. A sometimes-lonely one. There are nights when I ache for the comfort of a woman’s hand or her voice praying next to mine. There are evenings when I sit down with a buddy and have a glass too many of Jesus juice—and this time I do mean red wine, not spiritual awakening.

I’m just a broken vessel. One that leaks sometimes. One that spills grace as fast as it tries to collect it. And yet, I love Jesus. I try my best to keep the Holy Spirit in the room and the Word on my lips. And when I fall short—because I do—I try not to let “should have syndrome” write the final chapter.

But that’s the trap, isn’t it?

When we live under the shadow of our shortcomings, we start believing lies about ourselves. That we’re disqualified. That we’ve missed the window. That God’s promises were for someone else, someone who did all the things they should have done.

Let’s not pretend the Bible doesn’t have something to say about this.

Grace Doesn’t Whisper—It Shouts

One of the most comforting verses I come back to is in Romans:

“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” — Romans 5:8 (NIV)

He didn’t wait for us to fix our lives. He didn’t require us to clean the kitchen of our hearts and put out fresh linens for His arrival. While we were still sinners, Jesus showed up with grace.

It’s not a polite grace. It’s not a fragile grace that cracks under pressure. It’s a scandalous, rugged, holy grace that barges in and redeems what should have been ruined.

This doesn’t mean we have a license to live however we want. That’s not grace. That’s entitlement. Paul addresses this directly in Romans 6:

“What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? By no means!” — Romans 6:1-2 (NIV)

But the point remains—grace doesn’t wait for perfection. It meets us in the messy middle.

Let me remind you of Peter. One of Jesus’ closest. One who swore he would never deny Christ. But when the pressure came, when the rooster crowed, Peter had denied Him three times. Imagine the weight of the “should have” in Peter’s heart.

I should have stayed with Him. I should have said something. I should have trusted.

But then, post-resurrection, Jesus doesn’t punish Peter—He restores him. He sits him down by the fire and asks, “Do you love me?” And He asks it three times. One for every denial. Grace keeps count—not of our failures, but of our potential.

The Old Testament Echoes It Too

David. Adulterer. Murderer. Liar. Psalmist. Worshiper. Man after God’s own heart.

Talk about contradictions.

David lived many “should have” moments. He should have been at war instead of on the rooftop. He should have confessed earlier. He should have disciplined his sons more intentionally. And yet, God still chose to use him. Psalm 51 is the cry of a man who knows the weight of guilt—but also the depth of mercy.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” — Psalm 51:10 (ESV)

That’s not the voice of someone who has given up—it’s the voice of someone who knows he can’t do it without God.

3 Ways to Not Be Overcome by the Guilt of Your Mistakes

1. Acknowledge but Don’t Dwell

Guilt, in healthy doses, is a teacher. It shows us where we’ve veered off track. But when it moves from conviction to condemnation, it’s no longer from God. The Holy Spirit convicts to bring us back, not push us down.

Romans 8:1 declares:

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

Feel the guilt, let it teach you, then let it go.

2. Replace Regret with Repentance

The devil loves to trap us in circular thinking. Regret replays our sin like a broken record. Repentance hands the record to Jesus and asks Him to write a new song.

Repentance is active. It’s not just saying sorry—it’s turning around. It’s aligning your life again with God’s path. Joel 2:13 reminds us:

“Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and compassionate.”

3. Speak Truth Louder Than the Lie

When the “should haves” start piling up, speak Scripture over them. Let truth interrupt the lies.

Lie: I’ve sinned too much.
Truth: “Where sin increased, grace increased all the more.” — Romans 5:20

Lie: I missed my chance.
Truth: “I will restore to you the years the locusts have eaten.” — Joel 2:25

Lie: I’m too broken to be used.
Truth: “God’s power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

The enemy thrives in silence and secrecy. Speak God’s promises out loud. Drown the whispers with the roar of grace.

Final Thoughts

As I sit here, single again tonight, with Max (my red Boston Terrier) snoring in the corner, I feel the weight of some should-haves pressing in. I should have written this piece sooner. I should have reached out to someone I hurt. I should have trusted God more with my finances, my relationships, my direction. But then I remember—grace has entered the room.

The cross isn’t a decoration—it’s a declaration. That we are loved. That we are covered. That we are free.

Should have syndrome will try to write your obituary in failure. But grace rewrites it in faith.

Let’s stop beating ourselves up and start leaning into the One who was beaten for us.

Your story’s not over. Your sin is not your name. And your should-haves are not your chains.

They’re just reminders that you’re human. And that God’s not done with you yet.

Let the “Should Have” Become a “Still Can”

You see, “should have” doesn’t have to end in shame. It can become the spark of transformation if you hand it over to God. It’s not too late. It never is with Him. If there’s still breath in your lungs, there’s still a calling on your life. God doesn’t wait for you to finish fixing yourself before He uses you—He steps into your mess, wipes your eyes, and whispers, “Let’s go.”

I’ve found in my life that the enemy doesn’t waste time with the apathetic. He goes after the ones still trying. He wants to bury the passionate ones in guilt so they never reach the people they were meant to love. He wants us distracted by our past, so we’re immobilized in our present, and robbed of our future.

But we serve a God who specializes in reversals.

From “Should Have” to “Still Chosen”

Take Moses for example. Talk about a man with a rap sheet of regrets. He killed a man. Ran away. Hid for forty years. You think he didn’t whisper in the desert, “I should have waited”? But God didn’t let Moses’ “should haves” define him. He let obedience refine him.

And what about Jonah? That guy literally ran away from his calling. Boarded a ship in the opposite direction. Ended up in the belly of a fish. A prophet with the spiritual GPS of a squirrel. And still, God brought him back.

Do you think God didn’t know about your mistakes when He called you? When He gave you your spiritual gifts? When He put that idea in your heart? He knew. And He still said yes.

Because it was never about your perfection. It was always about your availability.

God doesn’t need flawless vessels. He needs willing ones.

Guilt Is Not Your Guide

We’ve made guilt our default setting in the church far too often. Somewhere along the way, we confused conviction with self-hatred. But let’s be honest—beating yourself up doesn’t make you holy. It just makes you tired.

I know that feeling. Laying awake at night with reruns of conversations I should have had, prayers I should have prayed, love I should have given. It eats away at you. Slowly. Quietly.

But guilt doesn’t lead you to healing. Jesus does.

That’s why Paul said in 2 Corinthians 7:10:

“Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.”

There’s a difference. One drives you back to God. The other drives you deeper into the dark. We’ve got to learn to let guilt do its job—and then release it. It’s a signal, not a sentence.

You’re Not the Only One

Let’s just say it plain: being a Christian doesn’t mean you’re going to get it all right. Not even close.

Sometimes, I think the church sets up this pressure cooker of expectations. And as a single Christian man, it hits differently. There’s this unspoken assumption that if you’ve made it this far, surely you’ve got your spiritual act together.

But the truth is, some days I’m full of faith, and other days I’m full of doubt. Some days, I’m walking on water. Other days, I’m sinking like a rock. I crave companionship, I miss intimacy, I wrestle with what-ifs. And yet—I’m not disqualified. Neither are you.

Even Paul, the writer of much of the New Testament, said this in Romans 7:19:

“For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.”

That’s not an excuse to stay stuck. It’s an invitation to keep going.

We’re not alone in our struggle. We're in good company. We belong to a faith of flawed heroes and redeemed rebels.

A Little Confession About Max

Let me tell you something lighthearted but kind of deep. My little red Boston Terrier, Max—he’s got this thing. Every time I bring out food, this dog stretches up as tall as his squat body will let him, like he’s trying to reach Heaven itself. His eyes get wide, and there’s this frantic hope in them: Will I get some this time?

He doesn’t know I already have a little treat set aside for him. He’s going to get fed. I’ve never let him go without.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s how God sees us.

Reaching. Stretching. Worried. Frantic.

Thinking we “should have” been better to deserve His provision. But the whole time, He’s already prepared something for us.

Grace Is Already on the Table

I’m reminded of the parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15. You know it. The son squanders everything. He lives wildly. He regrets. He rehearses his speech to the Father—his own personal list of “should haves.”

But when he gets home, the Father isn’t standing there with crossed arms and a ledger of wrongs.

He’s running. He’s weeping. He’s celebrating.

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him.” — Luke 15:20

That’s grace. That’s your God. That’s the gospel.

How to Trade “Should Have” for “Still Can”

Let me leave you with three more steps that have helped me when the “should have” voice gets too loud:

1. Start the Day with Surrender, Not a Scorecard

Every day, choose to begin not by measuring what you did or didn’t do yesterday, but by reminding yourself that today is new. His mercies are new every morning. You don’t need to earn your place at the table. You just need to show up.

2. Speak With Someone About It

The worst thing about “should have syndrome” is that it often festers in silence. Speak to a mentor, a friend, a pastor. Name your regret. Drag it into the light. You’ll find that its power fades when it’s exposed.

3. Choose Worship Over Worry

You can’t worship and wallow at the same time. Put on a song, pray, read the Word aloud. Let God’s voice be the loudest in the room. Replace your inner critic with the Comforter.

A Closing Prayer for the “Should Have” Soul

If you’re still reading, I want to bless you with a prayer—not a fancy one, but one that comes from the same kind of tired soul that’s found hope again.

Father,

Thank You for grace. Thank You for not requiring perfection. Thank You that while I was still a sinner, You called me, loved me, and died for me. I confess that I’ve lived too many days weighed down by what I should have done. But today, I choose to hand that weight to You.

Redeem the regrets. Heal the wounds. Help me move from guilt to gratitude. Speak truth over every lie the enemy has planted in my mind.

I believe You can still use me.

I believe You’re not done.

I believe that grace has entered the room—and it looks like Jesus.

In His name I pray,

Amen.

So here’s the truth, my friend:

You’re not your past. You’re not your worst decision. You’re not a lost cause.

You’re a child of God.

And even if you didn’t do what you should have yesterday—you still can today.