His plan, my purpose!

There’s a question that has been pressing on my heart lately, one that lingers no matter how I try to set it aside: What if, when I finally stand before God, I see the life He designed for me—the purpose He dreamed into existence before I was ever born—and realize I missed it?

This has weighed on me all the more because the topic has surfaced twice in the past week—first in a daily devotional, and then again in a sermon I heard from Ed Newton at Community Bible Church in San Antonio. I don’t believe that’s a coincidence. When the same message echoes in different places, I can’t help but sense God’s gentle nudge, His whisper urging me: Pay attention. This is for you.

And so I’ve been wrestling with this sobering possibility. What if, on the other side of eternity, I glimpse the faces of people I was meant to reach but never did? What if I see the doors He opened that I never walked through, the ripple effects of obedience that never happened because I chose fear, distraction, or comfort instead?

That thought both terrifies me and stirs me. Because I know myself too well. I know my sins, my flaws, my tendencies to drift. I know how often I’ve chosen my way instead of God’s way, or let the noise of this world drown out His still, small voice. And that’s what frightens me most—not the loss of salvation, but the tragedy of a wasted life.

I’ve said before, I believe that when I stand before God with Jesus at my side, it won’t just be a conversation about how I lived—it will be about eternity. My yes to God has the power to echo into forever.

And that’s why I can’t afford to drift through life. I don’t want to reach the end and discover I traded eternal impact for fleeting comfort. I don’t want to realize I let fear silence me when God asked me to speak, or that I built my own little kingdom instead of investing in His. (Matthew 6:19-21)

Yet, even in the heaviness of this thought, I cling to hope. Because the beauty of the gospel is that God redeems what I’ve wasted. My failures don’t erase His plans; my weakness doesn’t disqualify me. He tells me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Still, I know this truth: the choices I make today matter. One day, when I stand before Him, I want to be able to say I gave Him my yes—even when it cost me something. Because when that moment comes, it won’t be about earthly accomplishments or accolades—it will be about lives touched, hearts changed, people reached because I chose to be faithful.

And so this remains heavy on my heart, but not as fear alone. It feels like a call. A call to urgency. A call to trust God more deeply, to walk more faithfully, to say yes when it would be easier to shrink back. Because when that day comes and I finally stand before the One who made me, I long for nothing more than to hear those words my soul was made for: “Well done, good and faithful servant.” (Matthew 25:21)

Posted on August 26, 2025

By Joshua Gregg

What If I Give Up Right Before He Parts the Sea?

There’s a single line that has been echoing in my heart like a refrain I cannot escape:

“What if I give up right before He parts the sea?”

It’s a haunting question. One that pierces through doubt and hesitation, yet also breathes life into weary hope. It speaks to that fragile place we all know too well—the place between desperation and deliverance, between promise and fulfillment, between standing still and stepping through.

The Tension of the In-Between

Life has a way of leading us to shorelines we never imagined standing upon. We take steps of faith, only to arrive at what looks like a dead end. Before us, the waters rise high and unmovable. Behind us, the past presses hard and merciless. And in that moment, we hear the whisper: “Why keep going? Why keep believing? Maybe you should give up.”

The Israelites stood in this very place in Exodus 14. Having just tasted freedom after centuries of bondage, they found themselves hemmed in—Pharaoh’s army thundering behind them, the Red Sea blocking their way ahead. Fear consumed them. Doubt overtook them. They cried out to Moses, certain they had been led into ruin.

But listen to Moses’ reply:

“Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today… The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
— Exodus 14:13–14

Those words were not spoken in calm waters. They were spoken when all hope seemed lost—when the sea had not yet moved, and the enemy was close enough to hear the clatter of his chariots. Moses did not wait until the miracle had unfolded to declare God’s faithfulness; he declared it in the waiting.

And then, at the appointed moment, the wind began to blow. The waters shifted. Dry ground appeared where none had been before. The impossible bent to the will of the Almighty. What had been a trap became a pathway. What had looked like certain defeat became the very stage for God’s glory.

But here’s the question that grips me: what if they had given up right before the wind began to blow? What if they had turned back, surrendering to the enemy, convinced that God had abandoned them? They would have missed the miracle that defined not only their freedom, but the faith of generations to come.

Our Modern Shorelines

And so I ask myself: how many times have I stood at my own “Red Sea”? How many nights have I prayed for breakthrough, only to be met with silence? How many times has exhaustion whispered, “It’s not worth it anymore”—when all along, God was already preparing to part the waters?

Perhaps you know that place too. The diagnosis that seems immovable. The relationship that feels unrepairable. The burden that feels unbearable. The prayer that seems unanswered.

In those moments, the temptation to give up grows strong. But scripture reminds us:

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”
— Galatians 6:9

Did you catch it? If we do not give up. That single condition stands between despair and harvest, between collapse and breakthrough.

What if the “proper time” is nearer than we think? What if the waters are already stirring beneath the surface? What if tomorrow is the moment God says, “Now is the time”?

The God Who Still Parts Seas

The Red Sea wasn’t the last time God showed His people that He makes a way where there is no way. Over and over, scripture paints the same picture: walls of Jericho falling, prison doors swinging open, tombstones rolling away. The same God who worked then is working now.

Faith isn’t forged in calm seasons, but in the waiting, the pressing, the nights when our prayers feel like they’re bouncing off the ceiling. That’s where trust deepens. That’s where perseverance strengthens. That’s where we learn that God is not bound by our deadlines or limitations.

And maybe, just maybe, the moment when we feel most tempted to give up is the very moment we are closest to the breakthrough we’ve been praying for.

So here’s the reminder I hold onto—and maybe it’s the reminder you need too:

Don’t stop believing now. Don’t let fear or fatigue rob you of the miracle God is preparing.

The same God who split the sea for Israel still splits seas today. He still makes a way where there is no way. He still turns impossible into testimony.

Stand firm. Trust deeper. Hold fast.

Because the sea may be about to part.

This truth is beautifully echoed in the song “What If” by Consumed By Fire. Its lyrics wrestle with that same tension between fear and faith—reminding us that courage often lies just beyond the point of surrender.

Take a moment to listen, reflect, and let the words wash over you:
 Consumed By Fire – What If (Official Music Video)

Posted on August 17, 2025

By Joshua Gregg

One Year Ago I Walked into Prison — Today I Walk in Freedom, Fully Restored by Jesus Christ

One year ago, I walked into prison.

I remember that morning vividly—the silence in the car, the heaviness in the air, the trembling in my hands. It wasn’t fear that made me shake. It was the overwhelming weight of everything I was leaving behind and the reality of everything I was about to face.

But more than anything, I remember how I felt deep inside: torn open. I carried sorrow and regret—but also a strange sense of anticipation. The kind of anticipation that only makes sense when God is all you have left… and you realize He’s more than enough.

Yes, I was walking into prison.
But I wasn’t walking in as a man defeated.

I walked in surrendered.
Stripped of excuses, pretenses, and pride.
And despite it all, I walked in full of hope.

Because long before that day, I had already met Jesus—and I had already given Him everything.

The World Took My Freedom, But God Took My Heart

Nothing truly prepares you for the moment you enter prison.
It’s stark.
It’s lonely.
It feels final.

Even though I knew this was the consequence of my actions, it still pierced me deeply. It made everything real in a way I had never experienced before.

But while the world took my freedom, Jesus took my heart—and He did it in a way I never expected.

Within the walls of confinement, I encountered the presence of God more powerfully than I ever had on the outside. It didn’t take long to realize: you can be locked in physically and still walk in freedom—if Christ is with you.

I didn’t pray for a lighter sentence.
I didn’t beg to get out early.
I asked for transformation. I asked God to do something in me that would last far beyond my time behind bars.

And that’s exactly what He did.

Prison Became My Wilderness—And My Sanctuary

It sounds strange to say, but prison became holy ground for me.
It was like the wilderness where God led the Israelites—not as punishment, but as preparation. A place to strip away distractions and reveal Himself.

There were days when the silence felt overwhelming.
Days when regret settled heavy on my chest.
Days when the ache for Jackson, my people, my life, was too deep for words.

But in those moments, God didn’t feel far away. He felt closer than ever.

I began to open my Bible, not out of obligation, but from pure desperation. The Psalms echoed the cries of my own heart. The Gospels brought me to tears as I read about the mercy of Jesus. Paul’s letters from his own prison cell reminded me that I was not alone in mine.

God’s Word came alive to me.
It fed my soul, rewired my mind, and began to heal parts of me I thought were beyond repair.

“And if it puts me in the fire, I’ll rejoice, ’cause You’re there too.”
— Christ Be Magnified

Worship became my weapon.
Prayer became my lifeline.
And God became my anchor in the storm.

A Place Where the Spirit Moved: Chestnut Mountain Ranch

Not long after, God brought me to Chestnut Mountain Ranch—a place unlike any other. A refuge. A ministry. A community where the Holy Spirit is alive and moving.

At the Ranch, the work that began in prison deepened. It wasn’t just a place to serve—it became a sacred space of healing and restoration. Surrounded by men & women of faith who live out grace and truth, I witnessed the love of Christ in action.

The Spirit of God moved through that place and those people in ways that reached deep into my soul. Chestnut Mountain Ranch wasn’t just part of my story—it was a divine appointment.

God Didn’t Just Forgive Me—He Rebuilt Me

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, I started to see it:
I wasn’t the same man anymore.

Not because I had figured everything out.
Not because I had grown stronger.
But because Jesus was doing the slow, holy work of restoration.

He reminded me that my identity wasn’t found in my past, in my prison ID, or in the labels and judgments of others. My identity was—and still is—rooted in who He says I am:

Redeemed.
Restored.
Loved.
Chosen.
Free.

Jesus took every shattered piece of my story and began to build something new—something stronger and sacred.

I wasn’t being reformed by a system.
I was being transformed by the Savior.

Walking Out, But Not Walking Away

Eventually, it was time to leave.

I walked out wearing the same clothes I wore when I entered, but I was not the same person.
I didn’t walk out ashamed.
I didn’t walk out bitter or defeated.

I walked out restored.
I walked out forgiven.
I walked out with purpose—not in spite of my past, but because of what God had done through it.

And here’s the truth: I didn’t leave God behind in that place. I carried Him with me.

Now, one year later, I can say with full confidence:

Prison wasn’t a detour. It was destiny.

It was the fire that refined me.
The soil where my roots grew deep.
The place where I stopped running and finally met the God who had never stopped pursuing me.

This Is My Testimony

I don’t share this story to glorify my past.
I share it to glorify the God who redeemed it.

If you feel stuck in your own kind of prison—whether it’s addiction, shame, fear, greed, pride, or regret—I want you to know something:

Jesus still saves.
Jesus still restores.
Jesus still rebuilds.
And it begins with surrender.

When I let go of the life I was trying to control, Jesus did what only He could do.

“He brought me out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay;
He set my feet upon a rock, and made my footsteps firm.”
— Psalm 40:2

One Year Later

One year ago, I walked into prison with tears in my eyes, fear in my mind, and hope in my heart.

Today, I walk in freedom.
Not just physical freedom—but soul-deep, spirit-led freedom.
I am restored.
I am redeemed.
I am forever changed by the grace of God.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”
— 2 Corinthians 12:9

This is not the end of my story.
This is the beginning of a new one.

And I will spend every breath I have telling the world:

Jesus is faithful.
Jesus is enough.
Jesus still sets captives free.

And Jesus saved a wretch like me!

Posted on July 14, 2025

By Joshua Gregg