In 1464, a massive block of Carrara marble arrived in Florence, Italy. Cathedral officials had commissioned a statue of the biblical David — and this was the stone chosen for the work. But the first sculptor who attempted it gave up almost immediately, declaring the marble too flawed, too narrow, too imperfect. A second sculptor tried and reached the same conclusion. The block was abandoned in the courtyard of the cathedral, deemed beyond saving.

It sat there for nearly forty years.

Then in 1501 a twenty-six-year-old named Michelangelo took a long look at that neglected, damaged stone — and said yes. For three years he worked steadily, his chisel moving through what everyone else had written off. And out of that ruined block of marble came one of the most breathtaking works of art the world has ever seen.

I think about that image a lot. Because most of us carry something we've written off. A part of our story we've deemed too damaged, too flawed, too far gone to be of any use. A season we're ashamed of. A failure we can't quite forgive ourselves for. A relationship or a version of ourselves we've left sitting in the courtyard.

And into exactly that place comes the quiet, persistent question: what if someone else sees something here that you can't?

The prophet Isaiah heard God say: "Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing — do you not perceive it?" (Isaiah 43:18-19)

If Michelangelo could bring that kind of beauty out of a block of marble everyone else had abandoned — what do you think God can do with the parts of your life you've given up on?

Prayer: Gracious God, we bring you the parts of ourselves we have written off — the failures, the broken places, the chapters we'd rather not revisit. You are not finished with any of it. Take what we have given up on and make something beautiful. We trust you with all of it; through Jesus Christ. Amen.

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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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