Good morning, ladies, today I’m still writing to you from land, and I’ll admit… I miss the boat. The stillness of the ocean and the way it reminds me of the Holy Spirit always surrounding me has a way of steadying my heart. Yet here, on solid ground, I am reminded of something just as steady: the truth of God’s Word.
Many across the globe have been waiting and watching, some led astray by human predictions of the rapture, rather than resting in the Word. But Scripture tells us clearly…“no one knows the day or the hour” (Matthew 24:36). We are not called to wait for man to tell us, but to keep our eyes fixed on the Father, meditating on Him night and day. Jesus wants to return to find His children faithful, doing what He commanded when He left.
This is why this blog matters today. It is a reminder of the cross, what Jesus has already done, and why we continue to wait with lamps full, hearts watchful, and minds focused on Him. The rapture is not about fear or guessing the date…it’s about being found ready, clinging to the One who gave His blood when we had nothing to give.
There are moments when I sit with the weight of my failures. The words I shouldn’t have spoken, the choices that bruised more than healed, the days when faith felt faint and flesh ran wild. If life were a ledger, my pages would be smeared with ink blotted by regret.
It is there… right in the middle of my mess… that I hear the whisper of the cross:
“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)
I gave my worst. He gave His blood.
That exchange makes no sense in the economy of this world. Who would trade a spotless life for a broken one? Who would choose thorns, nails, and mockery for the sake of the guilty? Yet, that is the story of redemption. That is the heartbeat of the Gospel.
I remember a season in my life when I thought I had ruined it all. My past screamed louder than hope. Shame held me by the throat, and I wondered if God could even look at me. One night, desperate and worn out, I opened my Bible to Isaiah 1:18:
“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.”
It was as if God reached into my brokenness and clothed me in a garment I did not deserve. My worst was laid down, and in return, He wrapped me in His righteousness.
The truth is… He never asked me to be perfect. He asked me to believe. To surrender. To bring Him the shattered pieces and trust that the blood of Jesus is strong enough to make me whole.
The cross is not just history. It is present. Every breath I take today is covered by the blood that was shed two thousand years ago. Every failure, every weakness, every doubt, I bring it, and He answers with mercy.
So, if you are reading this and carrying the weight of your own worst, hear this: You are not too far gone. You are not disqualified. At the cross, the greatest exchange happened. You gave sin, He gave salvation. You gave shame, He gave covering. You gave your worst, He gave His blood.
And that blood still speaks.
“The blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.” (1 John 1:7)
It is finished. Not because I held it together, but because He was pierced, crushed, and poured out so that I could stand. That is love. That is grace. That is the story that anchors me in hope.
As we wait, let us not grow weary or distracted. The cross is our anchor, the blood is our covering, and the Word is our guide. We are not waiting for a date… we are waiting for a Bridegroom. And when He comes, may He find us faithful, lamps burning, hearts steadfast, and hands busy with the work of His Kingdom.
I gave my worst. He gave His blood. That truth is enough to carry us through every tomorrow until the day we see Him face to face
It is finished. Not because I held it together, but because He was pierced, crushed, and poured out so that I could stand. That is love. That is grace. That is the story that anchors me in hope.
– Women Anchored In Hope
Lord Jesus, I come before You with all that I am, my failures, my shame, my broken pieces. I gave my worst, yet You gave Your blood. You did not turn from me but stretched out Your arms on the cross and called me Yours.
Thank You for the mercy that covers me, for the grace that washes me clean, and for the blood that speaks a better word over my life. Teach me to live not in the shadow of regret but in the light of Your finished work.
When my heart condemns me, remind me that You already paid the price. When I feel unworthy, remind me that Your blood made me worthy. Anchor my hope in You alone.
In Jesus’ mighty name, Amen.
