Scars and Sovereignty

Category: Daily Devotionals

  • The God Who Orchestrates

    The God Who Orchestrates

    Day 12

    Genesis 23–24 | Mark 5:1–20

    “Before he had finished speaking, behold, Rebekah…” (Genesis 24:15)

    Genesis reveals God’s faithful orchestration in life’s smallest details. Abraham secures a burial site for Sarah, planting a foothold in the promised land—a tangible reminder of God’s covenant. Later, Abraham’s servant prays for guidance in finding a wife for Isaac, and God answers even before the prayer is finished. This isn’t coincidence. It’s providence. God’s steadfast love isn’t distant or abstract. It’s active. It guides our steps.

    In Mark 5, Jesus delivers a man tormented by demons, restoring him to life and purpose. The transformation is astounding. A man who was once bound in chains and abandoned becomes a living testimony of God’s mercy—a reminder that no one is beyond His reach.

    I’ve seen God’s orchestration in my own life. When I think of my accident, the timing and people God placed around me were nothing short of miraculous. J’s calm presence, M’s support, my Bible study brothers and church family—all of it points to a God who doesn’t leave us to navigate life’s storms alone. Sometimes His providence unfolds slowly, through steady provision. Other times, it comes in a flash, like Jesus stepping into the chaos of the demon-possessed man’s life. In both, His love never fails.

    These passages remind me that nothing is random in God’s plan. Whether we’re praying for wisdom, walking through grief, or experiencing His deliverance, we can trust that He is orchestrating every moment for His glory and our good.

    Father, thank You for guiding my steps and delivering me in my need. Teach me to trust Your plan, even when I can’t see the whole picture. Use my story to proclaim Your mercy and faithfulness to others. Amen.

  • The Power of Storytelling

    The Power of Storytelling

    Day 11

    Genesis 21–22 | Mark 4:10–41 | Proverbs 1

    “As the stars of the heaven and as the sand which is on the seashore…” (Genesis 22:17 NKJV)

    As a corporate communications executive, I spend my days crafting stories—shaping narratives that inspire, compel, and move people to action. Stories have power. They stir emotions, change perspectives, and drive decisions. But no storyteller, no matter how skilled, can rival the way God tells His story.

    Genesis 22:17 is a masterclass in divine storytelling. God could have simply told Abraham, “I will make your descendants numerous.” But instead, He paints a picture—stars in the sky, sand on the shore—giving Abraham something tangible to hold onto in his waiting. It wasn’t just information. It was imagery that carried the weight of promise.

    Jesus, too, was a storyteller unlike any other. In Mark 4, He speaks in parables—not just to make truth accessible, but to reveal it to those with ears to hear and conceal it from those who reject it. His stories weren’t just engaging; they were invitations to see the world through the lens of the kingdom of God. The disciples struggled to understand, but Jesus patiently explained, drawing them deeper.

    And then there’s Proverbs 1. Solomon personifies Wisdom, calling out in the streets—an invitation to embrace truth and a warning of the consequences of ignoring it. Over and over, God speaks through story, guiding, teaching, and drawing us to Himself.

    But here’s what convicts me: Am I listening? Am I paying attention to the stories God is telling—not just in Scripture, but in my own life? Or am I too preoccupied trying to control my own narrative? Even in my job, where I craft messages with precision, I have to remember that God is the true Author, weaving a story far greater than anything I could script for myself.

    Lord, You are the Master Storyteller. Your Word reveals truth that transforms. Help me to listen, to learn, and to surrender my own story to Yours. Shape my life into a testimony that points others to Your faithfulness and grace. Amen.

  • The Legacy of Sin

    The Legacy of Sin

    Day 10

    Genesis 19–20 | Mark 3:22–4:9

    “And Abraham said of Sarah his wife, ‘She is my sister.’ And Abimelech king of Gerar sent and took Sarah.” (Genesis 20:2)

    Some lessons in life take time to sink in. Others, no matter how many times we’re confronted with them, we seem doomed to repeat. That’s what makes Abraham’s story here so unsettling.

    Despite everything God had already done for him—calling him out of Ur, protecting him, and even promising him descendants as numerous as the stars—Abraham falls into the same sin he committed years earlier. He once again tells a foreign king that Sarah is his sister, out of fear for his life. And years later, his son Isaac does the exact same thing with Rebekah, proving that our sins don’t just affect us—they ripple through generations.

    As a father, that terrifies me. I think about my 12-year-old daughter and the example I’m setting for her. What patterns of fear, doubt, or compromise might I be passing down? Will she learn from my faith, or will she inherit my failures?

    But Abraham’s story isn’t just a warning—it’s also a testimony to God’s grace. Despite Abraham’s repeated failure, God remains faithful, stepping in to protect Sarah and preserve His covenant. Abraham’s sin didn’t derail God’s plan. And that gives me hope.

    I know I will fail. I will fall short. But what I pray my daughter sees in me isn’t a man who never messes up—but a man who, when he does, turns back to God in repentance. A man who leans on grace, not on his own strength.

    Lord, forgive me for the ways I fail to trust You. Help me break sinful patterns so that my daughter inherits a legacy of faith, not fear. May she see Your faithfulness in my life and learn to trust You above all else. Amen.

  • The Power of Prayer

    The Power of Prayer

    Day 9

    Genesis 17–18 | Mark 3:1–21 | Psalm 5

    “O Lord, in the morning You hear my voice; in the morning I prepare a sacrifice for You and watch.” (Psalm 5:3)

    This verse paints a picture of prayer as more than mere petition—it’s an act of trust, devotion, and anticipation. David begins his day lifting his voice to God, preparing his heart, and watching expectantly for God to act. It’s a posture of faith that challenges me deeply: How often do I approach prayer with such intentionality?

    Psalm 116 echoes this idea: “I love the Lord, because He has heard my voice and my pleas for mercy… therefore I will call on Him as long as I live.” James 5:16 reminds us that “the fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much.” These verses reveal a profound truth—God, the Creator of the universe, inclines His ear to us when we pray. Yet how often do we neglect this gift?

    I don’t pray enough. We don’t pray enough. Prayer is more than words—it’s an offering, a sacrifice that draws us into communion with God. And its power doesn’t come from us, but from the One to whom we pray. It’s Christ’s righteousness, not ours, that makes prayer effective. When we pray in faith, aligned with His purposes, God moves in ways that exceed our understanding.

    Genesis 18 offers a glimpse of this as Abraham intercedes for Sodom. His boldness in approaching God reflects a heart that trusts in God’s character and mercy. Mark 3 reminds us of Jesus’s compassion as He heals on the Sabbath despite opposition. These moments reveal a God who not only hears but acts—faithfully and powerfully—according to His will.

    Lord, forgive me for taking the privilege of prayer for granted. Teach me to lift my voice to You daily, with faith and expectancy. May my prayers rise like incense—a reflection of trust in Your promises and a desire to see Your glory revealed. Amen.

  • When the Answer is ‘Wait’

    When the Answer is ‘Wait’

    Day 8

    Genesis 15–16 | Mark 2

    “And he believed the Lord, and He counted it to him as righteousness.” (Genesis 15:6)

    God’s promise to Abram in Genesis 15 is breathtaking—offspring as numerous as the stars. Abram believed, and God counted it to him as righteousness. But by Genesis 16, we see a different picture. Doubt creeps in. Abram and Sarai grow impatient. They take matters into their own hands, trying to force the fulfillment of God’s promise through Hagar. The result? Heartache, division, and consequences that outlasted their lifetime.

    Waiting has never been easy—not for Abram, not for me.

    Five months after Talacey and I got married, we packed up our newlywed lives and moved 200 miles away for my new job. We were excited. Young, ambitious, ready for the life we had envisioned. But we had no idea what was coming. My salary barely covered our apartment rent, car payment, and gas—forget about food or anything extra. Then the recession hit, and every year like clockwork, my employer cut salaries by another 2%. With Talacey working part time as a preschool teacher while pursuing her masters degree, we had nothing to fall back on.

    And then there was the isolation. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t seem to build community. We missed home. We missed our people. We prayed for God to open a door back to Fresno, begged for it at times. I applied for job after job. I updated my resume. I networked. And the silence from God stretched on.

    For six years.

    I would come home from work to find Talacey in the corner of our small apartment, weeping. “I just want to go home,” she’d sob. And I had no answers. No job prospects. No indication that anything would change. Like Abram and Sarai, I started wondering if I needed to make something happen—force the door open instead of waiting for God to move. But every attempt to take control ended in frustration.

    As I look back now, I see what I couldn’t see then: God’s faithfulness in the waiting.

    That season—though painful—shaped our faith, strengthened our marriage, and taught us to rely on God and each other when nothing made sense. Eventually, He did make a way. He led us home in His perfect timing, in a way we never could have orchestrated on our own.

    Mark 2 reminds me why this matters. When the paralyzed man was brought to Jesus, the crowd expected a physical healing. Instead, Jesus first forgave his sins. Why? Because his deepest need—and our deepest need—isn’t a change in circumstances, but a restored relationship with God. Sometimes God delays the answer we want because He is already working on the answer we truly need.

    Abram and Sarai rushed ahead of God, and the consequences were devastating. I’ve done the same more times than I’d like to admit. But Genesis 15 reminds me that faith—real, lasting faith—is trusting not just in God’s promises but in His timing.

    Lord, forgive me for the times I try to take control instead of trusting You. Help me rest in Your promises, remembering that Your ways are higher than mine. Teach me to trust Your perfect timing, knowing that You are always faithful. Amen.

  • When Healing Doesn’t Come

    When Healing Doesn’t Come

    Day 7

    Genesis 13–14 | Mark 1:21–45 | Psalm 4

    “Moved with pity, He stretched out His hand and touched him and said to him, ‘I will; be clean.’” (Mark 1:41)

    I want to rejoice when I read this verse—Jesus’s compassion and power on full display. But if I’m honest, it stings. I see Jesus heal the leper with a touch, and I wonder: Why hasn’t He healed me? Why hasn’t He restored my hand after all the prayers and tears?

    It reminds me of an episode from The Chosen, where Little James asks Jesus why he hasn’t been healed. Jesus responds with such love, explaining that James’s faith in the midst of suffering is a greater testimony than healing would be. That scene wrecks me because it feels so real.

    Maybe you’ve felt the same—watching others receive the miracle you’ve begged for, wondering why God hasn’t answered the way you hoped. But this passage reminds me: Jesus isn’t distant or indifferent. He is moved with compassion. His power and purposes go far beyond the physical. Sometimes the greater healing happens in our hearts, as He reshapes our pain into a testimony of His grace.

    In Psalm 4, David declares, “You have put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound” (v7). True joy doesn’t come from getting what we want. It comes from knowing the One who holds all things together. That joy doesn’t erase the ache, but it reframes it—pointing us to the hope we have in Christ.

    I’m still waiting. I’m still praying. And I’m learning to trust that His plan is better than my own. My scars remind me that God’s compassion is not absent, and His purposes are still at work.

    Lord, help me trust Your purposes when the answers don’t come the way I expect. Use my weakness for Your glory. Remind me that Your compassion and power are always near, even in my waiting. Amen.

  • Faith Without a Map

    Faith Without a Map

    Day 6

    Genesis 11–12 | Mark 1:1–20

    “Now the Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.’” (Genesis 12:1)
    “And Jesus said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you become fishers of men.’ And immediately they left their nets and followed him.” (Mark 1:17–18)

    No map. No timeline. No details. Just a promise.

    In Genesis 12, God calls Abram to leave everything familiar. He doesn’t tell Abram where he’s going—just that He will show him. In Mark 1, Jesus calls Simon and Andrew to follow Him, leaving behind their nets, their security, their livelihood. In both stories, faith isn’t just belief—it’s stepping forward when the future is unclear.

    I remember feeling that tension 19 years ago when I married Talacey. Standing at the altar, I knew we were stepping into something beautiful—but also into the unknown. I was 22, making $18,000 a year, with no certainty of how we’d build a life together. I had no blueprint for what the next five, ten, or twenty years would look like. And honestly? That terrified me.

    Yet here’s what I’ve learned since then: God never gives us the full map—He gives us Himself.

    Abram didn’t know the destination, but he knew the One leading him. The disciples didn’t have a strategy for what following Jesus would mean, but they trusted the One calling them. And in marriage, in career, in life, that’s what faith has looked like for me too.

    Looking back, I see how God met us in every uncertainty. He provided. He sustained. He was faithful when the path ahead was foggy. And that’s the point—faith isn’t about knowing where you’re going. It’s about knowing who you’re following.

    What is God calling you to step into today? Maybe you don’t have all the answers. Maybe fear is holding you back. But if He is calling, you can trust this: He will not fail you.

    Lord, You are faithful even when the road ahead is unclear. Help me to follow You not because I see the whole picture, but because I trust You. Give me courage to take the next step in faith, knowing that You will lead me where I need to go. Amen.

  • Lift My Head

    Lift My Head

    Day 5

    Genesis 9–10 | Mark 1:1–20 | Psalm 3

    “But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.” (Psalm 3:3)

    These past nine weeks have tested me in ways I never imagined. The aftermath of my hand injury has brought countless moments when I’ve felt unable to lift my head—figuratively and sometimes even literally. The weight of my limitations, the grief over what I’ve lost, and the frustration of slow healing have been overwhelming. Yet this verse reminds me: God doesn’t leave me there. He lifts my gaze from my weakness to His strength.

    Life presses down—through setbacks, struggles, the challenges of parenting a pre-teen, the grueling demands of physical therapy, and the relentless grind of daily responsibilities. But Psalm 3 shows us that God meets us in the pressure. He bends low, shielding us from despair and lifting our eyes to see His grace. His promises stand firm, even when everything around us feels unsteady.

    What strikes me most is the context of this psalm. David wrote these words while fleeing from his son Absalom—a time of betrayal, fear, and sorrow. Yet even in the chaos, he declared God as his shield and the lifter of his head. That isn’t denial of pain. It’s faith—a stubborn, unshakable trust in the God who sustains us through it.

    I don’t always feel strong enough to face what’s ahead. But this verse reminds me that strength isn’t found in me. God lifts my head when I cannot. He shifts my focus from the weight of my circumstances to the unwavering hope I have in Him.

    Lord, You are my shield and the lifter of my head. When life presses down, help me trust in Your strength. Teach me to see Your grace even in the hardest moments and rest in the assurance that Your promises never fail. Amen.

  • Citizenship in Heaven

    Citizenship in Heaven

    Day 4

    Genesis 7–8 | Philippians 3

    “I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:14)
    “But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like His glorious body.” (Philippians 3:20–21)

    Paul’s words in Philippians 3 remind me that life in Christ is a journey—one that moves forward, not backward. The “upward call” isn’t some vague idea of progress; it’s a fixed destination. A promise. A reality that shapes everything about how we live right now.

    But how easily do I forget where I belong? How often do I let my focus shift to what’s temporary—my plans, my comforts, my worries—when I was never meant to set my roots here?

    Paul reminds us that our citizenship is in heaven. That’s not just a theological statement. It’s an identity. It means that no matter how much this world demands my attention, it’s not my home. My Savior is coming, and when He does, He will transform this broken, frail body into one that is glorious like His. No more sin. No more suffering. No more death.

    That changes everything. It changes how I handle hardship, knowing that every trial is temporary. It changes how I pursue success, knowing that what truly matters can’t be measured in earthly terms. It changes how I endure loss, knowing that Christ Himself is my greatest gain.

    So today, I have to ask myself: Am I pressing on toward what lasts? Or am I clinging to what won’t?

    Lord, help me press on toward the prize. When I lose sight of eternity, remind me that my true citizenship is in heaven. Strengthen my resolve to live each day for Your glory, walking by faith in the promise of what is to come. Amen.

  • Walking with God

    Walking with God

    Day 3

    Genesis 5–6 | Psalm 2 | Philippians 2:12–30

    “Enoch walked with God…” (Genesis 5:24)

    There’s something about this verse that stirs a quiet longing in me—to live a life defined not by accomplishments, but by communion with God. Not a faith that’s sporadic or compartmentalized, but one marked by daily, constant closeness with the One who sustains all things.

    What strikes me about Enoch’s story is its simplicity. The Bible doesn’t list his achievements. There are no dramatic miracles, no recorded sermons, no accounts of battles won. It simply says, he walked with God. And that was enough.

    That challenges me. Because if I’m honest, I can so easily slip into measuring my faith by what I do—the prayers I pray, the knowledge I gain, the things I accomplish. But Enoch’s story reminds me that faith isn’t about performance. It’s about presence. It’s about a steady, faithful, step-by-step journey with God, even when no one is watching.

    I hope that one day it might be said of me that I “walked with God.” That despite my failures, my faltering steps, and the countless ways I fall short, my life could still point others to Him. That my legacy wouldn’t be about what I built, but about Who I followed.

    Philippians 2 echoes this reality. Paul calls us to “work out [our] own salvation with fear and trembling”—not because salvation depends on us, but because “it is God who works in [us], both to will and to work for His good pleasure” (Philippians 2:12–13). Walking with God isn’t about striving in our own strength. It’s about surrendering, daily, to the One who works in us.

    I don’t know what walking with God looks like for you today. Maybe it’s trusting Him in a season of uncertainty. Maybe it’s finding joy in simple obedience. Maybe it’s just getting up and choosing to follow Him, even when you don’t feel like it.

    But I do know this—if we walk with Him, He will lead us exactly where we need to go.

    Lord, teach me to walk with You. Not just in the big moments, but in the ordinary ones. Shape my heart to desire You more than anything else, and let my life reflect Your glory in every season. Amen.