Life-Giving Words of Hope & Encouragement

What really defines a person? Is it the worst thing they’ve done, the running tally of good versus bad, or something deeper—who they’re becoming under God’s patient hand? We can’t bury the garbage in our lives forever; sooner or later, it starts to stink. And while everyone has a choice to do good or evil, Christians carry a holy obligation: our lives are meant to tell the truth about Jesus. So why aren’t all Christians obviously kinder than all non-Christians? As C. S. Lewis observed, when believers live badly—or simply fail to live well—we make the faith unbelievable to the watching world. That stings, but it’s honest.

Part of our confusion is mixing “good vs. bad” with “right vs. wrong.” We often excuse ourselves with, “It’s just human nature,” as if that settles it. Yet even our conscience insists there’s a moral grain to the universe. Lewis called it the Law of Nature because people sensed, deep down, that everyone knows it without being taught. We feel it when we misjudge someone, when we gossip, when we cut corners—and when we courageously tell the truth or offer mercy. Our daily choices aren’t neutral; they shape souls—ours and others’.

Think about the influence of simple kindness. Relationships don’t flourish because the guilty are always punished; they flourish because the innocent are merciful. Even our pets prove how treatment changes beings. We laugh that they think they’re human because we treat them like family—and then we grieve them like family when they’re gone. My dog of fourteen years just passed. She truly believed she belonged at the table with us because we loved her as if she did. That’s what love does: it dignifies. If this is true in our small homes, imagine the heart of the Father watching His Son die for the world—for people who had never heard His name, for people who used His name as a curse, even for the very people who took His life. Asking a parent to give up a child is unthinkable; that’s why God did what we could never do.

So, what about those moments when we know right and still choose wrong? Does awareness make it worse? And when we do the right thing, are we doing it for God—or for the camera? Integrity is doing the right thing for the right reason, not because eyes are on us or there’s something to gain. God gave us real freedom because real love requires it. Freedom is profound; it carries responsibility. Like an egg, we can hatch and take flight—or sit idle and spoil. The choice is ours, and so is the legacy. People you barely know will remember you by how you treated them in passing. When they encounter us, they should catch a glimpse of Jesus. Too often, they don’t. Most people don’t stumble over Jesus; they stumble over Christians. When we treat strangers better than those closest to us, something’s off. Jesus told us to love others as we love ourselves. That includes the ones under our own roof.

Here’s both the comfort and the challenge: God is easy to please but hard to satisfy. He delights in every step you take toward Him, yet He loves you too much to leave you where you are. Invite Him in, and it’s less “light dusting” and more “Extreme Home Makeover.” We ask for a trim; He reaches for the clippers. We want new flooring; He knocks out a wall. Why? Because Christ can’t simply be added to our lives; He intends to live and reign within them. The question isn’t, “What do I want to become?” but “What did God intend me to be from the start?”

Lasting change flows from inside out. It begins with how we think and speak. If you want to know where you’ll be in five years, listen to your words today. “Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” (Proverbs 12:18) Our words can curse or bless, tear down or build up, sicken hope or strengthen it. Scripture calls us to align our speech with God’s promises—to call things that are not as though they were (Romans 4:17). Stop narrating defeat over your life. Surface fixes won’t do; God is after roots. The more we talk about being exhausted, the wearier we become. Instead of rehearsing what is, start rehearsing what God says can be.

Be warned: saying “yes” to Jesus doesn’t make everything easy. In many ways, it makes life more real. Trials reveal our reflexes. When you were blindsided last time, what emerged first—anger or calm, blame or prayer? For me, real change began when I finally believed that everything I need comes from God. He took my run-down, boarded-up life and made it a sanctuary. Christ didn’t die to turn miserable sinners into miserable Christians. He came to restore—to make us better than before, not just patched together. When God “moves that bus,” His presence becomes our refuge, and the neighborhood of our hearts starts to look like home again.

And He isn’t finished. He’s still renovating, still pointing out “projects” I wouldn’t notice on my own. That’s grace: the Spirit gently convicting and wisely rebuilding. Our part is to keep asking, keep yielding, keep listening. The power of prayer shows up most clearly in the presence of faith. As Smith Wigglesworth said, “God is more eager to answer than we are to ask.” So ask. Then expect Him to speak—and be ready to obey.

If you want a simple next step, start here:

• Tell the truth to God about where you are.
• Surrender one room of your life He’s been nudging you about.
• Speak life. Each morning, bless your day and bless someone else.
• Practice mercy where you’d usually demand payment.
• Repeat tomorrow.

You are not defined by your past mistakes or some fragile ratio of good to bad. You are defined by the One who is making you new. Let Him keep building. Let your life make Jesus believable. And when the world leans in to see what’s different, may they find mercy, integrity, and a love that looks like His.