You set a table for me right in front of my enemies. You bathe my head in oil; my cup is so full it spills over! Yes, goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the Lord's house as long as I live. Psalm 23:5-6 (CEB) We have this idea that gratitude comes after victory. Once the danger passes, once the giant is defeated, once we're safe on the other side that’s when we can be thankful. But what if gratitude isn't supposed to wait until everything's okay? What if we can be thankful right now, in the middle of danger, before we know how things will turn out? That’s the picture we get in Psalm 23 when the psalmist talks about God setting a table "right in front of my enemies." Not after the enemies are gone. Not once the battle is over. But right there, in the middle of danger, God provides. That's the kind of God we serve. A God who doesn't wait until our circumstances are perfect before blessing us. A God who provides for us even when we're surrounded by threats. A God who gives us reason to be thankful even before the victory is won. And that means we don't have to wait until our giant is defeated to be thankful. We can be thankful right now, in the middle of the battle, because God is with us. Let's look back at what David's story has taught us about facing danger with gratitude: We learned that we need to name our giants and be honest about what we're facing rather than pretending everything's fine. We can't face what we won't acknowledge. We learned to remember past deliverances and recall the lions and bears God has already rescued us from. Those memories build confidence that God will show up again. We learned that we don't walk through dark valleys alone because God is with us, protecting us and guiding us through the darkness. We learned that courage doesn't come from our own strength. Courage comes from trusting God's presence even when we're terrified. And now we're learning that we can be thankful before victory because gratitude doesn't have to wait until everything's okay. So what are we thankful for when we're still facing our giant? When the danger hasn't passed? When the valley is still dark? We're thankful that no matter what giants we're facing, God is always with us. We're thankful that our giant isn't too big for God. We're thankful that God's presence goes with us into the valley. We're thankful that God provides for us even in the presence of our enemies. We're thankful that goodness and faithful love pursue us, even on the hardest days. Because this Psalm promises us that "Goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life." Not just on the good days. Not just when everything's going well. Not just after the danger passes. All the days of my life. Even the days when I'm facing giants. Even the days when I'm walking through dark valleys. Even the days when I'm surrounded by enemies. And that's why we can be thankful even before victory. Because our reasons for gratitude aren't dependent on our circumstances. They're dependent on who God is. And God is always faithful. So here's what I want you to do: Think about the giant you named at the beginning of this week. The danger you're facing. The dark valley you're walking through. You might not know how this is going to turn out. You might not see the way forward. You might still be terrified. But right now, in the middle of it, I want you to thank God. Thank God for being with you. Thank God for the past deliverances that prove his faithfulness. Thank God for walking through the valley with you. Thank God for providing courage that doesn't depend on your own strength. Thank God that your giant isn't too big for him. You don't have to wait until you're safe to be grateful. You can be thankful right now, because God is with you right now. Prayer for the Week Ahead God, thank you for this week's reminder that we don't have to wait until danger passes to be grateful. Thank you that we can be thankful right now, in the middle of our battles, before we know how things will turn out. Thank you that no matter what giants we're facing, you are with us. Thank you that our giants aren't too big for you. Thank you for walking with us through dark valleys. Thank you for providing courage that doesn't depend on our own strength. This week, when I'm facing my giant, help me to remember that you're with me. When I'm terrified, help me to trust your presence. When I feel inadequate, help me to rely on your strength. And help me to be thankful—not for the giant, but for you. Because you are faithful. You are with us. And that's something to be grateful for, even in the face of danger. Amen.

But David told the Philistine, "You are coming against me with sword, spear, and scimitar, but I come against you in the name of the Lord of heavenly forces, the God of Israel's army, the one you've insulted. Today the Lord will hand you over to me... And all those gathered here will know that the Lord doesn't save by means of sword and spear. The Lord owns this war, and he will hand all of you over to us." 1 Samuel 17:45-47 (CEB) We love underdog stories. The scrawny kid who beats the bully. The small-town team that wins the championship. The unknown candidate who wins the election. We love these stories because they give us hope that we, too, can overcome impossible odds. But what we often miss when it comes to the story of David and Goliath is that David didn’t win this battle through his determination and grit. David won because God was with him. Look at what David says to Goliath. He doesn't say, "You're coming against me with sword and spear, but I'm really fast and have great aim with this slingshot." He doesn't boast about his own abilities or strategies. Instead, David says, "You are coming against me with sword, spear, and scimitar, but I come against you in the name of the Lord." That's where David's courage came from. Not from his own strength. Not from his own abilities. But from God's presence. And that's where our courage has to come from too. Because if our courage depends on feeling strong enough, brave enough, or capable enough, we're in trouble.  Most of the time, we don't feel strong. We don't feel brave. We don't feel capable of handling what we're facing. But courage that comes from God's presence doesn't depend on how we feel. It depends on who God is. When we're facing giants, we often focus on our limitations. We don't have enough money. We don't have enough time. We don't ha ve enough strength. We don't have enough knowledge. We don't have enough resources. And all of that might be true. But here's what David teaches us: What we don't have doesn't matter as much as who we have with us. David didn't have armor. He didn't have a sword. He didn't have military training. But he had God. And God was enough. You might not have everything you need to face your giant. You might not feel equipped. You might not know how this is going to work out. But if you have God, then you have everything that truly matters. But that’s easy for us to forget. So we wait to feel brave before we face our giants. We wait to feel strong enough, confident enough, ready enough. We wait for the fear to go away. But that's not how courage works. Courage isn't the absence of fear. Courage is trusting God's presence even when we're terrified. David wasn't unafraid when he faced Goliath. He just knew that his fear didn't matter as much as God's presence. And that's the kind of courage we need. Not courage that comes from feeling strong, but courage that comes from knowing God is strong. Not courage that comes from confidence in ourselves, but courage that comes from confidence in God. So here's my challenge for you: Stop waiting to feel brave. Stop waiting until you feel ready. Stop waiting until you have everything figured out. Instead, take one step toward your giant today. Just one. Not because you feel strong enough, but because God is with you. Not because you have all the answers, but because God knows the way. Not because you're confident you can win, but because you're confident God is fighting for you. That's where courage comes from. Not from within us, but from the God who is with us. Prayer God, I don't feel brave. I don't feel strong. I don't feel ready to face this giant. But David teaches me that my courage doesn't have to come from my own strength, it comes from your presence. You're with me. You're fighting for me. You don't need me to have the perfect weapons or ideal circumstances. You can work through my inadequacy. So help me to stop waiting until I feel brave and to start trusting that you're with me. Give me the courage to take one step toward this giant today, knowing that I don't have to face it in my own strength. Amen.

Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no danger because you are with me. Your rod and your staff—they protect me. Psalm 23:4 (CEB) Psalm 23 is often read at funerals, so we think it's about death. But it's really about living through danger. It's about walking through dark valleys and facing real threats. And notice that this psalm doesn't say we won't have to walk through dark valleys. It doesn't promise that we'll avoid danger. It doesn't guarantee that we'll never face anything scary. Instead, it says, "Even when I walk through the darkest valley..." In other words, dark valleys are part of the journey. Danger is something we'll all face. There's no way around it. But here's the key: We don't walk through alone. And that’s why David could say, “I fear no danger.” That's a bold statement, isn't it? "I fear no danger." Most of us would have a hard time saying that honestly. We're afraid of lots of things. Afraid of what the doctor might find. Afraid of what will happen if we lose our job. Afraid of what the future holds. Afraid that we won't be able to handle what we're facing. So how could David say "I fear no danger"? Was he just naturally brave? Was he lying? Was he in denial about how dangerous the valley actually was? No. Look at why David could say this: "because you are with me." David's lack of fear wasn't based on the absence of danger. The valley was still dark. The threats were still real. But David wasn't afraid because he wasn't alone. God was with him. The psalmist mentions God's rod and staff. These were the tools shepherds used. The rod was for defense, to fight off predators. The staff was for guidance, to gently direct the sheep. So when the psalmist says "Your rod and your staff—they protect me," he's saying that God both defends us from danger and guides us through it.  And that's why we don't have to be afraid. Not because the valley isn't dark. Not because the danger isn't real. But because God is with us, defending us and guiding us through whatever we're facing. S o if you're in a dark valley right now, this psalm has something to say to you. It doesn't promise the valley will disappear. It doesn't guarantee the danger will go away. But it does promise that you don't have to walk through it alone. God is with you. Right now. In this valley. In this darkness. In this danger. God's rod and staff are protecting you. God is defending you and guiding you. God is with you in this valley, and God will walk with you all the way through it. So you don't have to wait until you're out of the valley to trust God. You don't have to wait until the danger passes to believe God is with you. You can trust him right now, in the middle of the darkness, that he's walking with you. Prayer God, I'm in a dark valley right now. And honestly? I'm afraid. This feels overwhelming. The danger feels real. The darkness feels suffocating. But this psalm reminds me that I don't have to walk through this alone. You're with me. Your rod and staff are protecting me. You're defending me and guiding me through this valley. Help me to trust that, even when I can't see the way forward. Help me to believe that you're with me, even in the darkest moments. And help me to keep walking, knowing that I'm walking through this valley, not staying in it forever. Amen.

"Your servant has been tending his father's sheep," David answered Saul. "Whenever a lion or bear came and carried off one of the flock, I would go after it, strike it, and rescue the animal from its mouth. If it turned on me, I would grab it at its jaw, strike it, and kill it. Your servant has fought both lions and bears. This uncircumcised Philistine will be just like one of them because he has insulted the army of the living God." David added, "The Lord, who rescued me from the power of both lions and bears, will rescue me from the power of this Philistine." 1 Samuel 17:34-37 (CEB) When King Saul tells David he's too young and inexperienced to fight Goliath, David doesn't argue with that assessment. He doesn't claim to be some kind of warrior prodigy. Instead, David points to his past. "I've fought lions. I've fought bears. God rescued me then. God will rescue me now." Notice what David's doing here: He's not basing his confidence on his own abilities. He's basing it on God's track record. He's remembering how God showed up before, and he's trusting that God will show up again. And that's exactly what we need to do when we're facing giants. We need to remember how God has shown up before.  So here's the question: What are your lions and bears? What are the past dangers you've faced where God came through for you? Maybe it was a health crisis that you didn't think you'd survive, but God brought you through. Maybe it was a financial disaster that seemed impossible to overcome, but somehow you made it. Maybe it was a dark season of depression where you couldn't see any hope, but God sustained you. Maybe it was a relationship that was falling apart, but God helped you rebuild. Whatever your lions and bears are, they matter. Not just as memories, but as evidence. Evidence that God is faithful. Evidence that God shows up in danger. Evidence that God can be trusted with the giant you're facing right now. But here's our problem: We forget. When we're facing a new giant, we somehow forget about all the times God rescued us before. We act like this is the first time we've ever faced something scary, like God has never shown up for us before. And I think we forget because the current giant feels different. It feels bigger. It feels more serious. It feels more overwhelming than anything we've faced before. But you know what? The bear David fought probably felt pretty overwhelming when he was facing it. The lion probably seemed impossible to defeat when it was carrying off one of his sheep. And yet, God showed up. God gave David the strength to rescue his sheep. God delivered him. A nd the same God who delivered David from lions and bears, the same God who delivered you from past dangers, is the same God who's with you now. This is why remembering matters. Not because dwelling on the past changes the present, but because remembering God's faithfulness builds our confidence to face what's ahead. When David remembered fighting lions and bears, he wasn't minimizing Goliath. He wasn't pretending the giant wasn't dangerous. He was simply saying, "God has shown up before. God will show up again." And that's what we need to say too. When we remember how God delivered us before, we're not ignoring the current danger. We're building our confidence that God can deliver us again. So take some time today to remember your lions and bears. Think back over your life and identify times when God showed up when you needed him. Times when you faced something that felt impossible and God brought you through. Times when you didn't think you could make it and God sustained you. Write them down if you need to. Tell someone about them. Thank God for them. Because those memories aren't just history, they're also evidence. Evidence that God is faithful. Evidence that God shows up in danger. Evidence that you can trust God with the giant you're facing today. Prayer God, help me to remember. When I'm facing this giant and feeling overwhelmed, help me to remember the times you've shown up before. Help me to remember the past dangers you've delivered me from. Thank you for your faithfulness then. Thank you for showing up when I needed you. And help me to trust that the same God who rescued me before will rescue me again. My confidence isn't in my own strength, it's in your track record of faithfulness. Help me to remember that today. Amen.

Goliath stopped and called out to the Israelite troops, "Why have you come out to take up battle formations? I'm the Philistine champion, and you are Saul's servants. So select one of your men, and let him come down against me. If he is able to fight me and kill me, then we will become your slaves. But if I overcome him and kill him, then you will become our slaves and you will serve us." The Philistine continued, "I insult Israel's troops today! Give me a man so we can fight each other!" When Saul and all the Israelites heard what the Philistine said, they were dismayed and terrified. 1 Samuel 17:8-11 (CEB) There's something about naming a problem that makes it feel more real. As long as we keep things vague, saying things like "I'm stressed," "Things are hard," "I'm going through something," we can kind of pretend it's not that serious. But when we actually name it? When we say out loud what we're facing? That's when it becomes real. That's when we have to deal with it. The Israelite army had a giant problem. Literally. His name was Goliath, and for forty days he stood in that valley and hurled insults at them. Every single day, he challenged them to send someone to fight him. Every single day, the entire army was "dismayed and terrified." But even though everyone was terrified, no one wanted to name the problem. No one wanted to admit out loud that they were facing something they couldn't handle. They just stood there, day after day, hoping the problem would go away. And we do the same thing. We face giants in our lives, from medical diagnoses that terrify us to financial crises that keep us up at night to relationships that are falling apart, but we don't want to name them. We don't want to admit how scared we are. We don't want to acknowledge that we're facing something bigger than we can handle. So we just...stand there. Hoping the giant will go away. Hoping things will somehow get better on their own. Hoping we won't have to face what we're facing. But you can't defeat a giant you won't name. David couldn't have defeated Goliath if he'd pretended the giant wasn't there. The Israelite army couldn't have won the battle if they'd just ignored the nine-foot-tall warrior hurling insults at them every day. And you can't experience God's presence in your struggle if you won't admit you're struggling. So what giant are you facing? What's the thing that keeps you up at night? What's the problem that makes you feel "dismayed and terrified"? Maybe it's a medical diagnosis that has you worried about the future. Maybe it's a financial situation that feels impossible to fix. Maybe it's a relationship that's breaking your heart. Maybe it's anxiety or depression that makes every day feel overwhelming. Maybe it's grief that won't let you go. Whatever it is, name it. Name it out loud. Not because naming it gives it more power, but because naming it is the first step toward facing it. I know it's scary to name your giant. As long as we keep things vague, we can maintain some illusion of control. We can tell ourselves it's not that bad. We can pretend we've got it handled. But the Israelite army stood there for forty days, terrified and paralyzed, because they wouldn't face their giant. And nothing changed until someone was willing to acknowledge the problem and step into the valley. The same is true for us. Nothing changes until we're willing to name what we're facing. Nothing changes until we're willing to name what we're facing. And here's what this week is going to teach us: Once we name our giant, we can learn to face it with confidence—not because we're strong enough to defeat it, but because God is with us. Once we acknowledge the danger, we can discover that we don't have to face it alone. But it starts with being honest. With naming your giant. With admitting that you're facing something bigger than you can handle on your own. Prayer God, I'm going to be honest with you—and with myself—about what I'm facing. Here's my giant: [name your specific struggle]. It terrifies me. It feels bigger than I can handle. I've been trying to ignore it, minimize it, pretend it's not that serious. But it is. And I need your help. I can't face this alone. So I'm naming it, acknowledging it, and asking you to meet me here. Give me the courage to face what I've been avoiding. Help me to trust that you're with me, even when I'm terrified. Amen.

We all face giants that feel too big to defeat - the diagnosis that terrifies us, the crisis that keeps us awake, the problem we can't solve. A teenage shepherd boy walked into a valley to face a nine-foot warrior when trained soldiers refused.   His confidence didn't come from his own abilities but from something he learned while protecting sheep. What gave David courage when everyone else was paralyzed by fear?

Create a clean heart for me, God; put a new, faithful spirit deep inside me! Please don't throw me out of your presence; please don't take your holy spirit away from me. Return the joy of your salvation to me and sustain me with a willing spirit. Psalm 51:10-12 (CEB) After a major storm, there's always a choice to make. You can focus on all the damage, or you can start cleaning up and rebuilding. Both responses acknowledge the storm happened. But only one moves forward. That's what David does in these verses. He shifts from focusing on the damage his sin caused to asking God to rebuild what's been broken. Earlier in Psalm 51, David talks a lot about sin, wrongdoings, and guilt. But look at the change in these verses. David stops talking about his sin and starts talking about what God can do. He stops focusing on what he's destroyed and starts asking God to create something new. "Create a clean heart for me, God." "Put a new, faithful spirit deep inside me." "Return the joy of your salvation to me." This isn't denial. David hasn't forgotten what he's done. But he also hasn't gotten stuck there. Instead, he's asking God to do what only God can do, to transform him. Restore him. Make him new. And notice that David isn't promising to do better. He's not offering to work really hard to fix himself. He's not making vows about how he'll never mess up again. He's simply asking God to do the work.  The Hebrew word David uses here for "create" is the same word used in Genesis 1 when God created the heavens and the earth. It's a word that's only used for what God does, creating something out of nothing, bringing life where there was death, making new what was broken. David knows he can't create a clean heart for himself. He can't put a new spirit inside himself. He can't restore his own joy. These are things only God can do. And that's actually good news. Because if fixing ourselves after we fail depended on our own efforts, we'd all be in trouble. We're not strong enough. We're not capable enough. We can't transform ourselves no matter how hard we try. But God can. God specializes in taking broken, sinful, messed-up people and making them new. God takes hearts that are stained and makes them clean. God takes spirits that are crushed and makes them faithful. God takes joy that's been lost and restores it. Look at what David asks for in verse 12: "Return the joy of your salvation to me." When we fail, when we sin, when we mess up badly, one of the first things we lose is joy. We might still be saved. We might still be God's children. But the joy is gone. We feel heavy. Burdened. Ashamed. But David knows something important: Joy isn't something we have to manufacture ourselves. Joy is something God restores. Joy is something God gives back to us when we come to him honestly, confess our sin, and ask him to make us new. And that's the kind of joy that can exist even after failure. Even after we've messed up. Even after we've done things we deeply regret. Because the joy of salvation isn't based on our performance. It's based on God's grace. So if you've been endlessly replaying your failures, it's time to make the shift David makes here. It's time to ask God to create something new in you. Not because what you did doesn't matter. Not because you shouldn't feel remorse. But because staying stuck in confession doesn't move you forward. At some point, you have to trust that God can take your broken heart and make it clean. At some point, you have to trust that God can take your broken heart and make it clean. So ask God to create a clean heart in you. Ask God to put a new, faithful spirit inside you. Ask God to restore the joy of your salvation to you. And then trust that God can and will do exactly that. Prayer God, I can't fix myself. I can't create a clean heart on my own. I can't restore my own joy. I've tried, and I've failed. So I'm asking you to do what only you can do. Create in me a clean heart. Put a new, faithful spirit deep inside me. Restore the joy of your salvation to me. I'm tired of being weighed down by guilt and shame. I want to experience the freedom that comes from your forgiveness. Do the work in me that I can't do for myself. Make me new. Amen.

Then Nathan said to David, "The Lord has removed your sin…” 2 Samuel 12:13 (CEB) God doesn't deal with us according to our sin or repay us according to our wrongdoing, because as high as heaven is above the earth, that's how large God's faithful love is for those who honor him. As far as east is from west—that's how far God has removed our sin from us. Psalm 103:10-12  (CEB) After David confessed his sin – after he said, "I have sinned against the Lord" – Nathan delivered God's verdict. And it wasn't what David expected because it wasn't what David deserved. Nathan said, "The Lord has removed your sin." Not "The Lord will think about forgiving you." Not "The Lord will forgive you if you work really hard to make up for it." Not "The Lord will hold this against you for the rest of your life." Just "The Lord has removed your sin." Past tense. Done. Finished. Removed. Showing us that God's grace is greater than our sin. The psalmist tries to help us understand just how completely God forgives us. He writes, "As far as east is from west – that's how far God has removed our sin from us." Think about that for a second. If you start traveling east, you can travel forever and never reach west. East and west never meet. They're infinitely separated. That's how far God removes our sin from us. Not just a little distance. Not just out of sight. But infinitely far. Completely removed. Totally separated from who we are. But, for some reason, we keep dragging our sin back. God removes it, and we go running after it. God puts it as far as east is from west, and we bring it back into our present. God declares us forgiven, and we declare ourselves guilty. So why is it so hard for us to accept God's forgiveness? Why do we keep apologizing for sins God has already forgiven? Why do we keep punishing ourselves for things God has already removed? I think it's because grace feels too good to be true. We know what we've done. We know what we deserve. And forgiveness doesn't make sense to us. We want to earn it. We want to prove we're sorry. We want to make up for what we've done. Because if we earn it, then we understand it. But if it's just given freely...that's harder to accept. But that's exactly what grace is. It's not earned. It's not deserved. It's not based on how sorry we are or how hard we try to make up for what we've done. It's based entirely on God's character. And God's character is faithful love. Love that's as high as heaven is above the earth. Love that removes our sin as far as east is from west. Love that looks at us in our worst moment and says, "I forgive you." So here's what I want you to do today: I want you to accept God's verdict. Not the verdict you've been giving yourself. Not the condemnation you imagine God feels. But the actual verdict God has given. If you've confessed your sin, God has removed it. That's not wishful thinking. That's not minimizing what you've done. That's the promise of Scripture. That's who God is. So stop dragging your sin back. Stop punishing yourself for what God has forgiven. Stop living in guilt when God has declared you clean. Your sin is as far as east is from west. And it's time you let it stay there. Prayer God, I'm amazed by your grace. Honestly, it's hard for me to accept. I know what I've done. I know what I deserve. And forgiveness feels too good to be true. But you've declared it anyway. You've removed my sin as far as east is from west. You've chosen to extend grace rather than give me what I deserve. Help me to accept this. Help me to stop dragging my sin back, stop punishing myself, stop living in guilt. Help me to rest in your faithful love and trust that when you say I'm forgiven, I really am forgiven. Amen.

I know my wrongdoings; my sin is always right in front of me. I've sinned against you—you alone. I've committed evil in your sight. That's why you are justified when you render your verdict, completely correct when you issue your judgment. Yes, I was born in guilt, in sin, from the moment my mother conceived me. Psalm 51:3-5 (CEB) Yesterday we talked about the importance of being honest about our failures. But there's a danger here: We can get so focused on our mistakes that we can't see anything else. Look at Psalm 51. In just five verses, David uses words like "wrongdoings," "guilt," and "sin" nine times. His failure is "always right in front of him." He's drowning in the reality of what he's done. And this is necessary. David needed to face what he'd done. He needed to acknowledge the depth of his sin. But if David had stayed here – if he'd spent the rest of his life replaying his mistakes, reminding himself of his guilt, convinced he was nothing but a sinner – he would've missed what comes next. When we mess up, our minds want to go into a downward spiral. We want to replay it over and over. We think about what we should've done differently. We imagine how things could've turned out if we'd made better choices. We convince ourselves we're terrible people. And this kind of feels like the right response. It feels like we're being humble, taking responsibility, showing proper remorse. But there's a difference between acknowledging our sin and being consumed by it. When we acknowledge our sin, we say, "I did something wrong, and I need God's forgiveness." But when we're consumed by our sin, we say, "I am something wrong, and I'm beyond God's forgiveness." The first is honest confession. The second is destructive shame. So, when we’re tempted to go into this downward spiral, we need to listen to what God says instead of what we think. And we see David do this in Psalm 51. David acknowledges that God has every right to judge him. God's verdict is completely correct. David deserves whatever punishment God wants to give. And I imagine that David thought he knew what God was going to say. He assumed condemnation. He assumed rejection. He assumed he's too far gone for grace. And we do the same thing. We confess our sin to God and then immediately tell ourselves what God must think of us. "God must be so disappointed." "God must regret choosing me." "God must think I'm worthless." But we're putting words in God's mouth. We're rendering a verdict that God hasn't given. And most of the time, the verdict we imagine is far harsher than what God actually says. So if you've been stuck replaying your failures, if you've been drowning in guilt, if you've been convinced you're beyond redemption...it's time to stop. Not because what you did wasn't wrong. Not because it doesn't matter. But because staying stuck in guilt doesn't honor God. God doesn't want you to spend your life replaying your worst moments. God wants you to experience forgiveness, restoration, and healing. But you can't experience those things while you're stuck. Tomorrow we'll talk about what God actually says in response to our sin. But today, I just want you to recognize if you've been stuck. Because you can't move forward until you acknowledge you've been standing still. Prayer God, I've been stuck. I've been replaying my failures over and over, convincing myself I'm defined by my worst mistakes. I've been so focused on my sin that I can't see anything else, including your grace. Help me to acknowledge my sin without being consumed by it. Help me to be honest about what I've done without drowning in shame. And help me to stop putting words in your mouth, assuming I know what you think of me. Prepare my heart to hear what you actually want to say to me. Amen.

When we mess up badly, we often replay our mistakes over and over until we're convinced we're complete failures. We get so consumed by what we've done wrong that we can't see past our guilt.   Yet, David broke half the Ten Commandments in one terrible episode of his life. But somehow he moved from crushing shame to genuine gratitude - how did he do it?

You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Although he was rich, he became poor for our sakes, so that you could become rich through his poverty. 2 Corinthians 8:9 (CEB) There's a scene in A Christmas Carol where the Ghost of Christmas Present shows Scrooge two starving children hiding under his robe, Ignorance and Want. Scrooge is horrified and asks if anything can be done to help them. The Ghost throws Scrooge's own words back at him: "Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?" It's a gut-punch moment. Scrooge realizes that his selfishness has had consequences. His unwillingness to help others has contributed to their suffering. And then something remarkable happens. Scrooge changes. He becomes generous. He helps the Cratchit family. He gives to the poor. He discovers the joy of living for others instead of just for himself. But Scrooge's transformation is just a shadow of a much greater transformation. The transformation Jesus calls us to. In 2 Corinthians, Paul is still talking to the Corinthians about generosity, but now he points them to the ultimate example: Jesus. He says Jesus was rich – not just financially, but in every way. He had all the glory, power, and privilege of being God. He had everything. But he became poor. He gave it all up. He came to earth as a vulnerable baby. He lived a simple life. He owned nothing. He had nowhere to lay his head. And ultimately, he gave his life on a cross. Why? "So that you could become rich through his poverty." Jesus' generosity wasn't about money. It was about everything. He gave up everything so we could have everything. He became poor so we could become rich, and not just financially, but rich in grace, rich in mercy, rich in love, rich in our relationship with God. That's the pattern of generosity we're called to follow. If we want to understand generosity, we have to start with Jesus. Not just what Jesus taught, but what Jesus did. Jesus didn't give out of his excess. He gave everything. That means generosity isn't just about money. It's about our whole lives. It's about giving our time, our energy, our attention, our resources. It's about living for others instead of just for ourselves. It's about becoming more like Jesus, who gave up everything for us. So as we close out this week, here's the invitation: Don't be selfish like Scrooge. Don't make your life all about what you can get. Don't hoard your resources while others are in need. Don't live like your security comes from what you accumulate. Instead, be transformed. Be generous. Be like Jesus, who gave up everything for you. Give sacrificially. Give joyfully. Give trusting that God will provide. Give because you've received so much from the One who gave everything. Because when you live generously, you discover what you were created for. You become more like Jesus. Prayer Jesus, thank you for your incredible generosity. You gave up everything so I could have everything. You became poor so I could become rich in grace. Help me to follow your example. Forgive me for the times I've been selfish, for the times I've lived like Scrooge instead of like you. Transform my heart this week. Make me generous like you are generous. Help me to live for others instead of just for myself. Teach me to find my joy in giving rather than getting. Show me how to be rich in the things that truly matter—grace, love, compassion, and generosity. I want to be more like you. Amen.

"You are that man!" Then Nathan said to David, "This is what the Lord God of Israel says: I anointed you king over Israel and delivered you from Saul's power... David said to Nathan, "I have sinned against the Lord." 2 Samuel 12:7, 13 (CEB) Have you ever been absolutely convinced you were right about something, only to have someone point out that you were completely wrong? That moment when reality crashes in and you realize you've been fooling yourself? That's what happened to David. He listened to Nathan's story, got righteously angry about injustice, demanded that the guilty man be punished...and then heard the words that changed everything: "You are that man." So David could listen to Nathan describe exactly what he'd done – taking another man's wife, having that man killed – without recognizing himself. He was so blind to his own sin that he needed a prophet to spell it out for him. And we do the same thing. We're really good at seeing other people's failures while being completely blind to our own. We get upset when someone lies to us but justify our own dishonesty. We're offended when people are selfish but don't notice our own self-centeredness. We demand accountability from others while making excuses for ourselves. So when Nathan said, "You are that man," David had a choice. He could've gotten defensive. He could've made excuses. He could've used his power as king to silence Nathan. After all, David was king so he could've done whatever he wanted. But that's not what David did. Instead, David said five simple words: "I have sinned against the Lord." No excuses. No justifications. No explanations. Just an honest admission of guilt. And that's the first step we have to take when we fail: We have to be honest about what we've done. Not minimize it. Not explain it away. Not blame someone else. Just honest admission. I know this is uncomfortable. None of us likes admitting when we've messed up. It's humbling. It's painful. It makes us feel vulnerable and exposed. But here's the thing: We can't experience God's grace until we're honest about our need for it. We can't be forgiven for sins we won't admit. We can't be healed from wounds we pretend don't exist. David could've spent the rest of his life pretending everything was fine. But that would've been a lie. And living in that lie would've destroyed him. So instead, David chose honesty. And that honesty became the foundation for everything that came next…the forgiveness, the restoration, the healing. So here's the question: What do you need to be honest about? Maybe it's something big that you've been carrying for years. Maybe it's something smaller that you've been dismissing as no big deal. Either way, it's time to stop hiding from it. Because God already knows. And God is waiting for us to do what David did, to simply admit, "I have sinned." That's not the end of the story. That's actually just the beginning. But it's a beginning we have to make if we want to experience God's grace. Prayer God, this is hard. I don't like admitting when I've messed up. I don't like facing the reality of my own sin. It's easier to make excuses, to tell myself stories, to pretend everything's fine. But you see through all of that. You know the truth. So help me to be honest—with you and with myself. Give me the courage to say, like David, "I have sinned." And help me to trust that your response will be grace, not condemnation. Amen.