There was a Nike commercial years ago featuring Michael Jordan — fourteen-time All-Star, five-time MVP, two Olympic gold medals. The camera follows him arriving at an arena, moving through the crowd with that easy, confident stride. And then you hear his voice:

"I have missed more than nine thousand shots in my career. I have lost more than three hundred games. Twenty-six times I have been trusted to take the game-winning shot — and missed. I have failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed."

That last line is worth some reflection. He didn't succeed in spite of the failures. The failures were part of how he got there.

The Scottish preacher Alexander Whyte once described what the church calls the perseverance of the saints — the conviction that God never gives up on us — in the most unglamorous terms imaginable. He said it was simply this: falling down and getting up, falling down and getting up, falling down and getting up — all the way to heaven.

Not a triumphant march. A stumble, a rise, a stumble, a rise. That is the shape of a faithful life.

Over the past few days, we've been reflecting on Jonah. His story contains one of the most quietly powerful lines in all of scripture. After everything — the running, the storm, the fish, the darkness — we read: "The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time."

A second time. God came back. God always comes back.

Prayer: Loving God, we are grateful that you are not finished with us when we fail. Teach us the stubborn, unglamorous faithfulness of those who simply keep getting back up. Help us to hear from you again and again and again. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

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A friend of mine told me about a guy named Troy who had moved to Hawaii from Florida years ago. Before he got there, Troy was — by any reasonable measure — heading nowhere good. Purple mohawk, extreme attitude, hard living in every direction. Nobody gave him much of a chance.

But not long after arriving on the North Shore, Troy got involved in a church. Something shifted. My friend said it wasn't that Troy lost his edge exactly — he was still pretty extreme, still pretty wild at heart. But something in him had changed direction. He went from the guy people thought would end up in prison to visiting people in prison. From doing drugs to counseling people with addictions. He channeled everything he was into surfing big waves and building a ministry. He is now a pastor, respected by everyone who knows him.

I was telling my friend this reminded me of Jonah — the runaway prophet who got a second chance he hadn't earned. My friend replied, "Yeah. That's called grace."

That's called grace. Simple as that.

Most of us don't have a story as dramatic as Troy's. But most of us know what it is to be carried through something we weren't sure we'd survive. To be given another chance we didn't entirely deserve. To find ourselves on the other side of a hard season, still here, still standing.

The question worth some reflection is the same one Jonah faced: what do we do with this second chance?

Prayer: We thank you, O God, for the second chances we have been given — the ones we recognized and the ones we didn't. You are a God of grace and new beginnings. May what we have received move us to live more generously, more faithfully, more fully. We ask in Jesus' name. Amen.

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Today’s message was written by my friend, Roger Kunkel, founder of Dial Hope.

There is only one thing more costly than caring and that is not caring. It must break God's heart when we are calloused, unfeeling, selfish, and uncaring. How do you treat other people? In the parable of the Good Samaritan, found in the 10th chapter in the gospel of Luke, the Samaritan is called good because he cared enough to do something good for someone in need. I have a physician friend who advises his patients to treat every person they meet each day, as if he or she were the most important person in the world. I like that! But, friend of Dial Hope, the Christian faith takes it a step further, a giant step further. We are urged to relate to every single person we meet as if that person were Christ in disguise. Wow! Try that for one day; it will change your life forever. 

Let us pray: The world must have begun in silence, so God then moved to a crescendo of joyful music with a heavenly symphony crashing in rhythmic applause. Let there be light where there is shadow and joy where there is pain or depression. The blooming flowers, the gentle breezes remind us of hope for the renewing of our lives. Help us to think kindly of one another, to speak gently, to be creative listeners, and to behave with compassion. Transform our hum-drum lives into TA-DA! moments fueled by perpetual gratitude. Keep us laughing and caring because they are neglected on our agenda. Through the amazing grace of Jesus. Amen. 

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A missionary named Jeffrey Ginn was serving with his family in Cali, Colombia. One morning he came into his office to find that a large map of the world had fallen from the wall during the night — all except one corner, which was still taped in place. He knelt on the floor to repair it.

His toddler daughter wandered in and plopped down beside him, watching intently. After a moment her mother called from the other room, "Anna, what are you doing?"

Anna looked up and said, matter-of-factly, "We're fixin' the world, Mama."

I love that. Because in the most unguarded, unselfconscious way, she named exactly what her father was doing — and exactly what we are called to do.

Jesus didn't come into the world to found an institution or establish a political order. He came to fix it. To heal it. To put back together what had been broken — and to call out people who would join him in that work.

The scope of that work is staggering. Children without enough to eat. Families torn apart. People living without hope or purpose or dignity. The brokenness runs deep and wide. And it is easy, standing before a map that large, to feel very small.

But Jeffrey wasn't trying to fix the whole map at once. He was just on his knees, in his office, repairing the corner in front of him.

That is usually how it works. Not grand gestures, but small faithful ones. The meal delivered. The phone call made. The corner of the map, patiently repaired.

We're fixin' the world! One small act at a time.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, you came to heal and restore what is broken in this world. And you invite us to join you in that work. Show us our corner of the map today — the place right in front of us that needs attention. Give us the willingness to kneel down and get to work. Amen.

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The theologian Fred Craddock used to tell a story about a retired racing greyhound. The dog had spent ten years running professionally — around the track, day after day, chasing a mechanical rabbit. Then one day he got close enough for a good look.

It was fake.

"I spent my whole life chasing a fake rabbit," the dog said. "I didn't retire. I quit."

Most of us know that feeling, even if we'd rather not admit it. We spend years running hard after something — more money, a bigger house, a better title, a new location — convinced that this is the thing that will finally make life feel complete. And sometimes we get close enough to see it clearly.

It doesn't satisfy. Not the way we imagined. The achievement arrives and the emptiness is still there, quiet but persistent.

Jesus said, "I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly." (John 10:10) Not more stuff. Not a faster track. Life — deep, rooted, genuinely full.

The question worth reflecting on today is simply this: what rabbit have you been chasing? And is it real?

Prayer: Lord Jesus, forgive us for the things we have chased that could never truly satisfy. Turn our hearts toward what is real and lasting — the life you came to give, the love that does not disappoint. Help us to run toward you. Amen.

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