God’s presence empowers us to release the past, trust Him with our present and future, and pursue Jesus as our ultimate prize.
Some of us walked in today with a calendar full of plans and a heart full of questions. Others came with a smile for the room and a sigh for the ride home. Life has a way of handing us seasons we didn’t pencil in—detours we didn’t expect, delays we didn’t schedule, and disappointments we didn’t see coming. And yet, right here, right now, the presence of Jesus meets us in the middle of it all—steady as a sunrise, kind as a friend, strong as a rock.
John Wesley once said, “The best of all is, God is with us.” That truth does more than comfort; it re-centers. If God is with us, then yesterday’s failures are not final, today’s pressures are not permanent, and tomorrow’s uncertainties are not ultimate. If God is with us, the regrets that keep replaying don’t get the last word, and the fears that keep whispering don’t hold the steering wheel.
Maybe you’ve been clutching old mistakes like souvenirs from a trip you never wanted to take. Maybe you’ve been trying to fix what you can’t fix and carry what you can’t carry. The nights are long, the questions are loud, and the what-ifs are stacked like boxes in the attic. Have you felt the tug of the past, the weight of the present, and the fog of the future? You’re not alone. Paul knew that tug and weight and fog, and from a hard place he lifts our eyes to a higher place.
The apostle doesn’t stand before us as a spiritual superhero with all the answers; he stands as a pilgrim with a singular focus. He says, in essence, “I haven’t arrived, but I’m not stuck.” He points us away from the grip of yesterday and toward the prize of Christ. He reminds us that grace trains our hearts to release what we cannot redeem and to reach for what we cannot lose.
Today, we’ll let Paul’s words shepherd our hearts. By God’s grace, we will learn to release the grip of yesterday, trust God for the next chapter, and pursue the upward call in Christ. That’s more than a plan; it’s a Person—Jesus, our Savior and our prize. So bring your burdens, bruises, and even your blunders. Bring your hopes, hurts, and half-finished prayers. The Lord who knows your file by heart also holds your future in His hand.
Here is the Scripture we’re setting before our souls:
Philippians 3:13-14 (NIV) “Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”
Opening Prayer: Father, we pause and breathe in Your nearness. Thank You that You are here—closer than our next breath and kinder than our best thought of You. We bring You our yesterdays with their stains and stories, our todays with their pressures and puzzles, and our tomorrows with their shadows and questions. By Your Spirit, loosen our grip on what You have already forgiven, steady our steps in what You are doing right now, and set our gaze on Jesus, the prize of our lives. Speak through Your Word with clarity and compassion. Give us soft hearts, clear minds, and willing hands. Help us press on, not in our strength, but in Yours. In the name of Jesus, our Lord and our joy, amen.
Yesterday can sit on the chest. It can make breathing hard. It can keep hands clenched. Hearts learn that tight hold. But grace teaches a new way. Open hands. Open space. Open future.
Memory is a gift. It helps us learn and love. It holds faces and lessons. Yet memory can shove and shout. It can take the wheel. The Scripture shows a different move. Forgetting does not mean erasing facts. It means refusing to let the past boss the present. It means handing the keys to Jesus.
Regret wears many shapes. Old choices. Harsh words. Missed chances. Some of us keep replaying scenes. The sound is loud. The tape is worn thin. The gospel meets that loop. Confession is real. Forgiveness is real. When God pardons, we can stop paying. We can stop carrying what He has carried away.
Yesterday’s wins can also weigh us down. A trophy shelf can become a cage. We can live off old fire and old applause. Paul had a list of medals. He had every reason to brag. Then he counted them a loss for the sake of Christ. Yesterday’s good gifts are sweet when they send us forward. They sour when they keep us stuck.
Listen to the posture of Paul in the text. He does not claim to have arrived. He speaks with sober joy. He is in motion. He chooses one focus. He turns his face toward what lies ahead. His eyes are set on Christ. That focus frees him from the pull of the past.
God stays near in this work. He does not scold the weak. He steadies the weak. He does not shame the slow. He walks with the slow. His nearness breaks the chokehold of yesterday. His kindness teaches our hearts to relax.
This release is not vague. It has shape. Name the burden. Speak it to God. Ask a trusted friend to pray. Write it down and bring it to the cross in prayer. Build small patterns that match your new freedom. Go to bed with Scripture in your mind. Wake up with a simple prayer, “Jesus, lead me today.” Let worship reset the story you live in.
“Forgetting what is behind” is the language of a racer dropping weight. The runner does not drag old bags around the track. Paul had heavy bags. He had wounds he caused and wounds he received. He laid them down because a greater call sounded in his ears. Forgetting here means loosening the claim of both shame and pride. It is a choice to no longer take cues from old labels. It is a refusal to let former failures write the next chapter. It is also a refusal to let former success decide the pace now. Christ gives a new name and a new aim. That new name speaks louder than any old story.
“Straining toward what is ahead” paints a clear picture. Think of a runner leaning forward. Every muscle joined to the same aim. Eyes locked on the finish. The Christian life looks like that lean. We bring our energy, our habits, our time under one aim. We ask, “What helps me move toward Jesus today?” Then we do that again tomorrow. We set patterns that face forward: regular Scripture, steady prayer, honest fellowship, acts of mercy, weekly rest. We clear the track of unnecessary weights. We speak to our souls when they wander. We keep our gaze on Christ, since where we look, we go.
“I do not consider myself to have taken hold of it” guards the heart. It makes room for growth. It gives patience to the struggler and a leash to the proud. This confession says, “I am still learning.” It keeps us reachable by correction. It keeps us safe when we make progress. It keeps us from despair when we stumble. The Spirit shapes us over time. We can measure progress with humility. We say thank you for change. We ask for more grace for the road ahead. We welcome help from the church, which is a field hospital for the saints.
“I press on toward the goal to win the prize” centers our motivation. The prize is not a ribbon. The prize is a Person. Christ himself is the treasure. To know him. To see him. To be made like him. God calls us upward by his grace. He supplies strength for each step. He sets the finish line and stands there with open arms. That call lifts our head when we feel low. It gives focus when life is noisy. It keeps us moving when the path feels steep. Setbacks do not end the race. They become places where grace proves strong. So we keep moving. We keep leaning. We keep our eyes where they belong.
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