I used to think “redemption” was only for sermons, big, holy words that sounded good on Sundays, clean and out of reach for me. Growing up, I mostly knew words like shame, survival, struggle, and silence.
Redemption seemed reserved for perfect people, the churchgoers without a past like mine. But life shattered that illusion, revealing that redemption isn’t just a church word; it’s a gritty, healing truth for everyone. God redeemed years I thought were beyond repair, not erasing pain but repurposing it. The abuse gave me a voice to help others heal, and poverty taught me contentment and generosity.
The rejection and abandonment? He replaced it with a tribe of people who love me deeply and remind me I’m not alone.
God doesn’t just rescue you from the pit, He restores what was stolen, giving beauty for ashes, joy for mourning, praise for despair. Redemption isn’t a one-time event but a daily, sometimes hourly choice to believe your past doesn’t define you, God does. It’s waking up on a Tuesday and deciding, even if unworthy, you’re still chosen. It’s showing up despite shame, forgiving yourself for what you didn’t know, and walking boldly into what God shows you now.
If you’re reading this and thinking, But you don’t know what I’ve done… you’re right. I don’t.
But I do know this: God is not intimidated by your past. Not the mess, not the secrets, not the mistakes. He’s not scared of your brokenness.
In fact, that’s exactly where He begins. So if you’re still stuck in guilt, still wearing labels that don’t belong to you, still believing that your story ends with the trauma, you need to know this: redemption is coming. And when it shows up, it’s not going to be pretty and perfect; it’ll be real. It will look like hope rising out of hopeless places. It will sound like laughter in a room that once held only silence. It will feel like freedom in a heart that was once chained to shame.
You are not too far gone. You are not disqualified.
It’s for you.
He rewrote mine.
And he can rewrite yours, too.
