What They Meant for Evil

There's one verse I held onto when I had nothing else to hold. Genesis 50:20. "What they meant for evil, God meant for good."

I'm not going to stand here and preach at you. I'm just going to tell you the truth about how I got through.

There were nights I didn't believe a word of that verse. I want to be honest about that, because I think too many people make faith sound easy and clean, and it left me feeling broken when mine got messy. Mine got messy. There were nights I was angry at God. There were nights I prayed and felt like the prayer hit the ceiling and slid right back down.

I prayed anyway.

That's the part nobody tells you. The biggest thing faith ever taught me wasn't how to feel something. It was how to keep going when I felt nothing. Pray when you don't want to. Pray when you're mad. Pray when you're convinced it's a waste of breath. You're not praying because you feel strong. You're praying because you've run out of strong, and you're handing the weight to Somebody who doesn't run out.

People want to know how I came out the other side without becoming bitter. The honest answer is I couldn't have done it alone, and I didn't.

When everything I built got taken, when my name got dragged, when I sat in a cell for words, the only thing that kept me from hardening into something cruel was the belief that this was not the end of my story. That God could take what was meant to destroy me and turn it into the very thing that made me useful to other people.

I didn't understand it then. I'm starting to understand it now.

Because here's what happened on the other side. I came out and I could finally talk to people who were drowning, and they believed me, because I'd been in the deep water too. The pain became a language. It let me reach folks that a comfortable man never could. That's Genesis 50:20 in real time. The thing they meant for evil became the thing God is using for good.

I also have to tell you what faith did inside my own house.

It made me put my pride down. It made me say sorry to people I love and mean it. It repaired things between me and my family that I thought were broken for good. Faith didn't just save me for heaven someday. It made me a better man at the kitchen table this week. It made me humble enough to admit I was wrong and to start over.

I'm still a work in progress. I call myself an old dog still grabbing new tricks. I'm learning, I'm failing, I'm getting back up. That's the walk. Anybody who tells you they've got it all figured out is selling something.

So if your faith feels thin right now, hear me. You don't have to feel it to keep it. You don't have to have the words. You just have to get on your knees, even angry, even empty, and say "God, I can't do this, You're going to have to." Then get up and take the next step. He meets you in the steps.

What they meant for evil, He means for good. I'm living proof it's true, even on the days I forget it.

If this spoke to something in you, I'd love to have you on my email list. I share the real walk there, the hard days and the hope both.