JULY 8, 2025

 “I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had no where else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day.” 

― Abraham Lincoln

JOB 38-39

1Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm. He said:

2“Who is this that obscures my plans

with words without knowledge?

3Brace yourself like a man;

I will question you,

and you shall answer me.

4“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?

Tell me, if you understand.

5Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!

Who stretched a measuring line across it?

6On what were its footings set,

or who laid its cornerstone—

7while the morning stars sang together

and all the angels^a shouted for joy? (38:1-7)

ACTS 15:1-21

19“It is my judgment, therefore, that we should not make it difficult for the Gentiles who are turning to God. 20Instead we should write to them, telling them to abstain from food polluted by idols, from sexual immorality, from the meat of strangled animals and from blood. 21For the law of Moses has been preached in every city from the earliest times and is read in the synagogues on every Sabbath.”

JOURNAL 

“I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go.” Lincoln was right. But what drove me there wasn’t just desperation—it was the slow collapse of a life built on getting.

In Job 38, God doesn’t whisper; He storms in. “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?” (v.4). He’s not answering Job’s questions—He’s flipping the entire framework. God isn’t some distant vending machine who dispenses comfort if I press the right religious buttons. He’s the Creator. He’s the Giver. And He reminds Job—and me—that the posture of the soul isn’t entitlement. It’s surrender.

I used to think the goal was to build a life that worked—to stack up comfort, status, security, maybe even a legacy. I was living to get. But the more I got, the more empty I felt. Like drinking saltwater. It never satisfied. And then when it all started to unravel—when money dried up, when plans collapsed—I found myself back on my knees. Not because I was holy, but because I had nowhere else to go.

In Acts 15, the early church faces a turning point. Gentiles are coming to Christ, but some want to burden them with old rules. Paul and Barnabas push back. “Let’s not make it difficult,” they say (v.19). Their decision wasn’t about control—it was about giving freedom. They weren’t gatekeeping the Kingdom. They were giving it away.

That’s the shift: from getting to giving. From guarding to offering. From climbing to kneeling.

Even Job’s friends, with all their flawed theology, believed that God’s blessings were earned—if you do good, you get good. Job, in his pain, thought God was unjust for not “delivering.” Both perspectives were rooted in getting—one expected reward for obedience, the other demanded rescue in suffering.

But then God speaks. And everything changes.

The real treasure is not ease or success. It’s not titles or trophies or even answered prayers. The real treasure is God Himself. His presence. His nearness. His voice that stills the storm inside me. And once that’s the reward, everything else becomes secondary.

But here’s where it gets honest. I’ve used that truth as an excuse. I’ve let go of the world’s definition of success, which was good—but then I coasted. I mailed it in. I stopped showing up with excellence. I told myself, “It doesn’t matter.” But it does matter—not because I’m chasing reward, but because I’m called to give. Give my best. Give my strength. Give my time, my heart, my whole self. That’s the way of Jesus. And it’s the only way to win.

Because living to get will always leave me empty. It turns people into transactions and tasks into trophies. But living to give—that’s where the joy is. That’s where God shows up. Whether I’m rewarded or rejected, whether I’m honored or overlooked, the only life worth living is one poured out.

Proverbs 18:12 says, “Before a downfall the heart is haughty, but humility comes before honor.” The downfall isn’t just failure—it’s the heart that clings to getting. The honor comes when we let go. When we give without needing return. When we pursue excellence not for applause, but as worship. When we show up with everything we have and leave the outcome to God.

That’s the real shift. That’s the real reward. And that’s the life I want to live

12Before a downfall the heart is haughty,

but humility comes before honor.

PROVERBS 18:12