Tell Your Story

Mornings, my friend, are God’s way of saying, “Let’s try that again.” Before the rooster even clears his throat, Heaven is already humming with mercy. The sun peeks over the horizon like it’s sneaking into church late, and the Lord whispers, “New day. New grace. New start.”

Paul knew a thing or two about fresh starts. Galatians 1:24 says, “And they praised God because of me.” Now that’s a line you don’t embroider on a pillow unless something big has happened.

And something big sure did happen to Paul.

Before Jesus got ahold of him, Paul was meaner than a snake in a mailbox. The man was a one‑man religious wrecking crew: organizing raids, dragging believers off, even cheering at Stephen’s stoning. If there’d been a “Most Likely to Ruin Your Day” award, Paul would’ve won it every year.

Then came that Damascus road. Bright light. Blind eyes. Heart cracked open like a pecan under a boot heel. And just like that, the church’s worst nightmare became Heaven’s newest trophy of grace.

Folks didn’t believe it at first. Can’t blame ’em. If your worst enemy showed up at your potluck with a casserole and a Bible, you’d squint a little, too. But once they saw him, really saw him, they realized, “Well I’ll be, God did the same thing in him that He did in us.”

And they praised God because of him.

Now listen close. Your story may not involve blinding lights or dramatic plot twists, but don’t you dare sell it short. God didn’t recycle you. He redeemed you. He didn’t patch you up. He made you new. Your story is yours, handcrafted by the Holy Spirit, and somebody out there needs to hear it.

So, go on. Tell it. Whisper it over coffee. Share it on the porch swing. Let someone know who you were before Jesus and who you are now.

One day, by God’s grace, someone just might say to you, “I praised God because of you.”

Lord, thank You for writing my story with love, patience, and purpose. Help me live today like a fresh page in Your hands. May my life point others to You. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

Remember, every new sunrise feels like the Lord is sliding a handwritten note under your door, whisperin’, “I’m still here, still faithful, and I’m not done writing your story yet.”

"Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story, those He redeemed from the hand of the foe” (Psalm 107:2).

With joy,

Gwen