I AM Redeemed and Rooted

God doesn’t need a résumé  just a “yes.” He often calls the ones hiding in fear, not standing in power. Because when you feel least qualified, He shows Himself most mighty. Gideon wasn’t trying to be a warrior. He wasn’t training for battle. He was hiding threshing wheat in a winepress, trying to survive. And that’s where  God found him. “ The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.” — Judges 6:12 Can we pause right there? God calls him  mighty warrior  before Gideon ever lifts a sword. Before he leads. Before he believes. Gideon responds like many of us: “Pardon me, Lord… how can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest, and I am the least.” — Judges 6:15 In other words: “I’m the least likely. You’ve got the wrong one.” But God never looks at what you see He looks at  what He placed inside you. The assignment doesn’t depend on your strength. It depends on  His Spirit. Gideon’s victory didn’t come through numbers. God stripped his army down to 300. Why? So Israel co...

God doesn’t cancel your calling after a mistake. There may be consequences, but there’s still purpose. Grace doesn’t erase the fall but it can redeem the future. David loved God but he still fell. Not by accident. Not under pressure. But by  willful choice. He saw. He summoned. He sinned. Bathsheba wasn’t the start of David’s fall entitlement  was. He stayed back when kings were at war. He drifted from purpose. And when he sinned, he tried to  cover it  instead of confessing. “David sent messengers to get her. She came to him, and he slept with her.” — 2 Samuel 11:4 This isn’t just a scandal. It’s a  warning  that even anointed people can fall when they get comfortable. And yet… God didn’t throw David away. There were consequences death, sorrow, and exposure. But after David’s repentance came  redemption. “Then David said to Nathan, ‘I have sinned against the Lord.’” — 2 Samuel 12:13 He didn’t shift blame. He didn’t justify. He didn’t run. He broke… an...

Ruth didn’t post about her process. She didn’t broadcast her loyalty or document her grief. She simply showed up and let her faith speak for itself. Ruth wasn’t loud. She wasn’t flashy. She wasn’t the obvious choice. She was the girl who followed her mother-in-law into an unfamiliar land. The woman who  chose God when she could’ve chosen comfort . The one who served in silence, gleaned in fields, and waited without demanding a spotlight. In a world that praises speed, visibility, and “overnight success,” Ruth teaches us how to  wait well . “So Boaz said to Ruth, ‘I’ve been told all about what you have done…’” — Ruth 2:11 Did you catch that? Boaz didn’t notice her because she promoted herself. He noticed her because  he heard about her faithfulness . He saw her quiet work. He respected her private obedience. And he blessed her publicly for what she did in obscurity. So many of us are in “Ruth seasons”: Working behind the scenes Picking up pieces Choosing loyalty in the dar...

Detours don’t cancel destiny. God’s plan isn’t thrown off by your pain. Sometimes, the pit is the beginning not the end. Joseph had dreams. Big ones. God-given ones. Dreams of leadership, influence, and favor. But before the palace ever opened  his life was torn apart. His brothers betrayed him. Threw him in a pit. Sold him into slavery. He went from favored son to forgotten servant all for obeying God. That doesn’t sound like destiny. It sounds like rejection. Abandonment. Delay. “They saw him from afar, and before he came near to them they conspired against him to kill him.” — Genesis 37:18 But what man meant for evil,  God used as transportation . Joseph’s pain became the vehicle for his placement. Potiphar’s house taught him to manage. Prison taught him to wait and interpret. And every closed door was preparing him to sit in a room where  he would hold the keys . We love to shout about the palace. But we have to learn to worship in the pit. Because God doesn’t just pr...

Everyone wants the oil but few want the crushing that produces it. Anointing doesn’t fall from the sky. It flows through obedience… and pain. We talk about anointing like it’s a crown. But before it’s a crown it’s a  crushing. Olive oil, in biblical times, didn’t come from untouched fruit. It came from olives that had been  pressed, broken, crushed under weight . The process was violent. Slow. Messy. But the oil?  Pure. Fragrant. Sacred. “He was pierced for our transgressions… and the punishment that brought us peace was on Him.” — Isaiah 53:5 Even Jesus was crushed before He was glorified. In Gethsemane a garden literally named  “oil press”  He sweat blood. He said,  “Not My will, but Yours.” That moment wasn’t glamorous. It was agony. But it was also the moment where  anointing flowed. We often say,  “God, use me!” But are we willing to be pressed? To obey when it’s not public? To carry what no one else sees? To be passed over, purified, mi...