Blessed Beyond Measure: A Journey Into God’s Goodness

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I opened my Bible this morning to James 2:14–26, and even though I’ve read this passage many times before, something about it stirred me more deeply than usual. Maybe it was the quiet stillness of the morning, or maybe it was the way my soul has been reaching for God with such intensity lately, searching for clarity and direction. But as soon as I read, “What good is it, dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but don’t show it by your actions?” (James 2:14, NLT), I felt the Holy Spirit pressing gently on the places in my heart that still need refining.

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I recently stumbled upon a quote that said, “God blesses us because we respond to Him, not as a response to our good works.” I held onto that sentence like a precious jewel, because so often—even in my own walk with God—I’ve slipped into the mindset of trying to prove my transformation through what I do rather than who I’ve become in Christ. It’s so easy to confuse activity with spiritual maturity. And sometimes I wonder whether that’s why so many new believers get overwhelmed. They come into the faith with this beautiful spark of excitement, wanting so badly to honor God, but without knowing how to rest first in His love. They start volunteering, serving, signing up for everything in sight, hoping their efforts will show God they’ve changed. And then somewhere along the path, they burn out. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve felt it happen.

I think we, as the body of Christ, have unintentionally contributed to that misunderstanding. We often celebrate visible participation—the new church volunteer, the person who signs up for every ministry, the one who seems full of energy and eagerness—without first understanding where their heart is. Service is good and beautiful and holy, but service without foundation is like building a house on sand. It looks sturdy for a moment, until the first storm hits.

James is absolutely right: faith without deeds is empty. But deeds without faith are equally hollow. They may look impressive on the outside, but they don’t carry the substance of God on the inside. And that’s what struck me so strongly today—the reminder that my actions are not the proof of my faith; they are the fruit of my faith. Faith doesn’t begin with motion; it begins with surrender. It begins with falling at the feet of Jesus and whispering, “I can’t change myself. I need You to change me.”

Sometimes I forget that. Sometimes I slip into the rhythm of self-powered striving, almost like a spiritual New Year’s resolution. But faith isn’t a resolution; it’s a relationship. A living, breathing relationship with a God who moves through me rather than around me. When I try to do things for God without doing them with God, everything feels heavier and harder. But when the Holy Spirit stirs something in me—when I feel that gentle tug, that nudge that seems to rise from some quiet place inside my chest—obedience feels almost effortless. It feels like stepping into a river instead of trying to dig my own well.

That’s what good works are meant to look like. Not a performance, not a checklist, not a spiritual résumé—but a response. A natural overflow of the faith God has planted in me. And I love that God invites me into His work not because He needs my help but because He wants my heart. He wants my willingness, my surrender, my trust. He wants me to participate in the blessings He is already pouring out.

When I reflect on my journey with Him, I can see moments when I acted out of pure obedience to His voice, even when I didn’t understand why. And those are the moments that changed me the most. Not because I did something impressive, but because God used my small steps to shape my heart. That’s the kind of life I want—one where my faith is alive, vibrant, and continually responding to Him.

I feel blessed beyond measure not because of what I have, but because of who He is. His goodness has followed me through seasons of joy and seasons of grief, through times of clarity and times of confusion. Every time I’ve tried to take control, He has gently reminded me that surrender is my safest place. Every time I’ve grown weary, He has whispered, “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). And somehow, He always keeps His promise.

Today I prayed that He would teach me how to better encourage my brothers and sisters—not to rush into good works out of obligation, but to grow deeper in faith so that their works rise naturally from their relationship with Him. I want to be someone who reminds others of their identity in Christ before urging them toward activity. I want to show them that transformation starts with the heart, not the hands. I want to reflect Jesus in a way that draws them closer to Him, not simply closer to tasks.

And maybe that’s part of my own calling—helping others understand that God isn’t measuring their worth by their productivity. He’s looking at their hearts. He’s looking for faith that is alive, rooted, and real. Faith that breathes. Faith that trusts. Faith that produces action as naturally as a tree produces fruit in season.

As I sit here writing all of this, I realize how deeply grateful I am for the Holy Spirit’s guidance. There have been days when I felt Him nudging me toward someone who needed encouragement, or urging me to pray for a person I barely knew, or prompting me to step out in a way that stretched my comfort zone. Those moments were never born from my own willpower. They were born from His presence in me. And every time I said yes, I experienced God’s goodness in ways I never expected.

One thing I am learning, over and over, is that God doesn’t call me to do good works so that others will see how faithful I am. He calls me to do good works so they will see how faithful He is. When I respond to Him, when I let Him work through me, His love becomes visible. His compassion becomes tangible. His presence becomes undeniable. And somehow, in the midst of that, I am blessed too.

So today, Lord, I pray this from the depths of my heart:

Father, help me to always work in response to You—not from my own strength, not from my own will, but from the moving of Your Spirit within me. Teach me to recognize Your prompting and to obey with joy. Guard my heart from striving and remind me that true transformation comes only from You. Use me as a vessel of Your love, and let Your light shine through everything I do. And guide me as I walk alongside others in the body of Christ. Give me wisdom to encourage, patience to listen, and compassion to understand where their hearts truly are. Let Your living Word take root in us all, that it may grow and flourish in our lives. I ask all of this in the mighty name of Jesus, Amen.

Tonight I rest in the truth that I am blessed not because of what I do, but because of who God is—and because I get to respond to Him with a heart that is learning, growing, and trusting more every day.