This season, I have been invited into countless stories—testimonies of real people, walking through real pain, longing for relief, clarity, answers, or change. Some hold tightly to a flicker of hope. Others have lived without it for so long that hope feels like an impossibility, a foreign language, something meant for someone else. When we are surrounded by chaos, it becomes nearly impossible to see a bigger picture—to recognize that our personal story is woven into a much grander narrative. In those dark moments, doubt creeps in, whispering, “What good could ever come from this?” The chapters we are living today may feel so dark, so overwhelming, that we begin to assume every future page will read the same.
Yet Psalm 139 reminds us: “For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb… Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in Your book.”
How do we hold onto that truth when our present-day story feels so broken? There were many seasons in my life when I longed for a rewrite—a clean slate, a chance to start again. I believed a do-over would somehow make everything right. But with time, I began to understand: even if I could rewrite my circumstances, it wouldn’t have rewritten me. Changing circumstances does not change a person.
Somewhere along the way, subtle lies slipped into my narrative—quietly, gradually—until they shaped my thoughts, emotions, and choices. I forgot that my story was always part of God’s story.
A story of rescue.
A story of forgiveness.
A story where wounds, fear, running, and loss do not get the final word.
When I look back now, I see clearly how the enemy tried to hijack my story and write an ending marked by defeat. But that was never God’s plan. Instead, He stepped into the broken chapters and offered me brand-new ones—pages of healing, growth, and redemption that I could never have penned on my own.
God is always authoring a bigger story of redemption than we can comprehend. C.S. Lewis writes, “Mere improvement is not redemption.” God wants more for us than a sprinkling of self-help. When we surrender to Him, we invite Him to move in our lives in ways we simply cannot orchestrate ourselves. And nothing—absolutely nothing—is too broken for Him to restore. This is the true narrative of Christmas.
Let Him write your story.
Let Him transform false narratives.
Let Him have the last word.
