Pardoned of our Sins: Believers in Christ are Justified by His Grace

Lord, I don’t know whether I’m more comforted or more angry, more relieved or more exhausted. Maybe it’s both. Maybe this is what faith looks like at twenty-five—raw edges, shaky hands, but a stubborn love for You that refuses to break. Maybe that’s what You’ve been trying to show me all along: that justification isn’t about the perfection I keep trying (and failing) to reach. It’s about You reaching down, pulling me into Your grace, even while I’m still messy, still loud, still angry at the world, still trying to believe that I’m really forgiven.

This morning I kept thinking about what it means that believers in Christ are justified—not later, not after we get our act together, not when we finally live holy enough or pray long enough or feel spiritual enough. But now. Right now. In this moment. In this too-bright room with my chipped lavender nail polish and the heaviness of a long week pressing on my shoulders.

Justified. Pardoned. Cleansed. Freed.

God, I’m trying to wrap my mind around that word, because sometimes I feel so condemned. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never outrun the mistakes I made at nineteen, or twenty-two, or yesterday. Sometimes I feel like the enemy stands over me shouting, “Guilty, guilty, guilty!” and I’m ashamed to admit how often I believe him. But then there’s Romans 8:1 whispering through my doubts: “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” No condemnation. None. Not a little less. Not reduced. Not delayed. Zero.

Why does that truth make me want to cry and scream at the same time?

Maybe because I’m tired of walking around like salvation is something I have to keep earning when Jesus already finished the work. Maybe because grace feels too good—too immediate—to be real. Maybe because I don’t understand a love that strong. Maybe because part of me is still angry that sin has consequences I can’t undo… yet You still say I’m justified.

Lord, You know I don’t want cheap grace. I don’t want to throw Your mercy around like it’s disposable. I don’t want to treat Your sacrifice lightly. But I also don’t want to insult Your love by pretending that forgiveness is too far away for someone like me.

I’ve been thinking about the thief on the cross. How dare he receive the same justification as Paul? How dare he—after a lifetime of choices that likely harmed people, scared people, destroyed something sacred in himself—receive salvation in a single breath, a single moment of faith? Part of me wants to shake him. Another part of me wants to hug him. And then the biggest part of me realizes that I am him—undeserving, but nevertheless justified.

Jesus didn’t say, “Come back when you’re cleaned up.”
He didn’t say, “Let Me see your spiritual résumé first.”
He didn’t say, “Try harder and maybe I’ll consider it.”

No. He said, “Today you will be with Me in paradise.” Today. Right then. Right in the middle of the pain, the consequences, the shame, the nearing death. A moment of faith—and You called him justified.

And God… it makes me angry how beautiful that is. Angry in a way that twists inside my chest because I want to be good enough, and yet You insist I don’t have to be. Angry because grace disarms all my self-reliance. Angry because it means I can’t cling to my guilt like a trophy of my own humility.

But grateful. Deeply, painfully grateful.

I think about Paul—your servant, Your chosen instrument, the man who endured beatings, shipwrecks, hunger, imprisonment, betrayal, and sleepless nights. A man who poured out his life until the last drop was ministry. And You say he wasn’t any more justified than that thief.

What kind of God loves like that? What kind of God levels the ground so fully at the foot of the cross that the hardest worker and the last-second believer stand shoulder-to-shoulder, equally loved, equally washed clean?

My God does.

My Jesus does.

So why is it so hard for me to accept that I’m included in that? Why does justification feel like a gift I can describe but not quite hold without dropping? Why do I keep living like I’m still on trial?

Your Word keeps telling me the verdict has already been spoken. Already. Not someday. Not eventually. Now.

“For I will be merciful toward their iniquities, and I will remember their sins no more.” (Hebrews 8:12)

No more. Forgotten. Buried. Gone.

Lord, why am I still remembering what You’ve already erased?

Last night, and today, when I prayed, I felt this almost physical sense of You saying, “You’re accepted. Today. Not after you straighten your emotions or fix your flaws or stop being angry at the church or stop overthinking everything. Today.”

And I felt my chest unclench a little.

I don’t know how to fully believe it yet, but I want to.

There’s this image I keep thinking about—this ladder You’ve lowered down from heaven into the vineyard. The one the old preacher talked about. The one that says Your acceptance is how we enter the vineyard, not the fruit we grow once we’re inside. And it comforts me, but it also stings, because I keep trying to climb the ladder with handfuls of fruit I’ve forced myself to produce, as if You need proof of my sincerity. As if You need me to justify myself, when justification is Your work alone.

Father, teach me to accept being accepted.

Teach me to live like someone who’s truly pardoned. Teach me to stop digging up the graves of sins You already buried.

I want to stand before You the way justified people do—with both humility and confidence. With both repentance and joy. With both surrender and assurance. You didn’t die to give me a halfway salvation. You didn’t resurrect so I could stay chained to the idea that I have to save myself daily.

Lord, free me from this self-condemnation. Free me from the lie that Your grace is fragile or conditional. Free me from believing that every mistake pushes me further from Your heart when You yourself said You remember my sins no more.

I feel so small lately—but maybe that’s okay. Justification means Your love is big enough to cover the places where I fail. It means I get to breathe again. It means the courtroom is empty, the gavel has fallen, and the Judge has declared me righteous because of Jesus, not because of my performance.

So here is my prayer, God—raw, trembling, but honest:

“Lord Jesus, thank You for justifying me by Your blood. Thank You that I stand before You without condemnation. Thank You for pardoning my sins fully, immediately, eternally. Teach my heart to believe what my mind knows is true. Tear down every fear that tells me I must earn what You freely give. Help me walk in the freedom You purchased. Help me trust that Your grace is stronger than my guilt and more present than my failures. I surrender my shame to You. Make me whole.”

Amen.

And yet… there’s still this fire inside me. Anger at sin. Anger at the enemy. Anger at the lies that try to steal what You’ve already promised. Anger at myself for being so easily deceived. But maybe that anger is holy too. Maybe it’s what pushes me toward the cross. Maybe it’s what reminds me of how desperately I need You every hour.

Justification isn’t a feeling. It’s a fact. A declaration. A spiritual reality that doesn’t bend with my emotions. And Lord, I need that constancy. I need a truth that doesn’t crack when I do.

Lord, I choose to trust You.

Today I am accepted.
Today I am forgiven.
Today I am Yours.

And that is enough.

How To Protect The People You Love As A Christian (Updated 2024)

When people have a lot of stress, it can sometimes feel overwhelming.

Like the weight of the world is resting on their shoulders.

I’ve been there…

You’ve probably been there…

And as a Christian, I know that most people have experienced a terrible event in their lives that almost pulled them down to depression.

I constantly hear about it in my church.

There is, however, a simple thing we can do to protect these people from becoming depressed.

And by doing so, we protect ourselves as well.

If we support one another and lift each other up, then nothing can hurt us.

As believers in Christ, we are called to be a light in the darkness.

To help others and show them the love and grace of our Lord.

As it says in Matthew 5:14, “You are the light of the world.”

Scientists from Michigan University researched adults who were prone to depression, such as people who had lost their spouses.

And they discovered that simply reaching out to them in times of need can significantly protect them from becoming depressed.

This is an incredible reminder of the power of love and compassion.

It shows how much of an impact we can have on each other by simply being there for them.

As it is wonderfully explained in Galatians 6:2, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ.”

This sums everything up perfectly.

As we navigate our struggles, let us remember to look to those around us who may need our help.

Whether offering a listening ear, a helping hand, or a word of encouragement…

Let us do what we can to lift up our brothers and sisters in Christ.

Remember, as the body of Christ, everyone is connected.

When one part of the body suffers, everyone suffers. 

When one part celebrates, everyone celebrates.

So let us be there for one another, and show the love of Christ to those around us.

If you don’t know what to say to someone you haven’t spoken to in a very long time,

Are You Giving For The Right Reasons?

I often see celebrities giving to charity on TV.

They give small amounts of wealth and make sure everyone sees it.

And while giving is a good thing to do, something just doesn’t sit right with me.

When they brag about it so much, it becomes more about the giver than the recipient.

However, as Christians, our motivation for giving shouldn’t be for fame or gratification.

It should be rooted in the belief that it is the right thing to do.

The Bible is clear on the importance of humility in giving. 

In Philippians 2, Paul urges Christians to “do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves.”

This passage reminds us that when we give to the less fortunate, we should do so humbly, putting the needs of others before our own.

It is important to remember that when we give to the less fortunate, we are also lending to the Lord.

And in doing so, we will be rewarded for our kindness and humility.

Proverbs 19:17 states, “He who is kind to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will reward him for what he has done.” 

It is easy to become caught up in the idea of giving for personal gain or recognition, but that is not the true spirit of giving. 

Giving should be done with a pure heart and a humble attitude.

As Christians, we are called to be good stewards of the resources and blessings that God has given us. 

Part of being a good steward is using our resources to help those in need.

It is not about how much we give, but rather the attitude with which we give. 

So let us give with humility, knowing that we are not just giving to the less fortunate, but living according to God’s Will.

Let us be reminded that true giving is not about us.

And let us give with a humble heart, knowing that we are blessed to be a blessing to others.

How to Whip Up Delicious Meals From Foraged Foods

My fellow Christians, if you’ve been reading my Christian blog for a while, then you know that I’m not simply trying to barely endure difficult situations.

I’m honestly looking for ways to live conveniently, and even thrive when everything around us seems to fall apart.

When people usually talk about foraged foods, they ask questions like “Can I eat that?” or “How many calories does this have?”

But have you ever considered that making gourmet, delicious meals out of foraged ingredients is possible?

That’s right, folks. Gourmet meals in an emergency situation.

I know, it seems far fetched when our minds are usually focused on the bare essentials. 

But the thing is, it doesn’t always have to be about getting by on the bare minimum.

Nature is a veritable pantry, overflowing with a variety of edible plants, roots, and berries.

Sure, it requires a keen eye and knowledge of what you can safely consume.

But once you’ve got a handle on it, then turning foraged foods into meals that others would lust on even in regular times is easier than it sounds.

Let’s talk basics first.

Learning to identify edible plants is essential.

Take the time to familiarize yourself with local flora and fauna.

Next, experiment. You might find things you don’t expect.

For example, did you know you can make a pretty damn good faux potato salad with Jerusalem artichokes?

Or a stew thickened with acorn flour?

You see, enjoying foraged foods is not that complicated, as long as you are willing to try different things.

But there’s a catch.

For this to be possible, there is something you need to learn how to do.

And that’s cooking without your familiar kitchen gadgets. You might not always have them.

That’s where primitive cooking methods can come in handy.

Folks, finding ways to enjoy ourselves when things go south is another aspect of prepping.

Let’s go beyond merely living. Let’s thrive and dine like kings in the wilderness.