Destiny is not a brittle thread that snaps under the weight of human failure; it is a divine river, fierce and unrelenting, carving its way through mountains, valleys, thick forests and deserts until it reaches the sea ordained for it. Yet how many sit today, their heads bowed under the invisible weight of regret, asking the question that burns holes in the soul: Did I miss it? Did my foolishness rewrite God’s plan? Am I too far gone to return? Is it too late and irreversible? From the crowded Tricycle -Keke of Lokoja to quiet New York apartments, from the candle-lit prayers of an African widow to the hushed despair of a businessman in London, this question aches in millions of hearts. Tender times often come clothed in silence, and silence is loud when it ripples with shame.
But destiny is not paper that tears when stained by human error. Destiny in God’s hands is like the sun; it rises regardless of clouds, hidden for a while but never extinguished. Pastor Enoch Adeboye, speaking to millions under a starry Lagos sky, once declared with gentle authority, “Your destiny is like the sun; clouds may hide it for a while, but they cannot stop its rising.” His words cut through the fog of despair because they resounds truth older than time itself: Jeremiah 29:11 still whispers to anyone who will listen, “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Yet human frailty feels louder than divine promises when life crumbles. The divorced mother staring at an empty bed wonders if love and joy will ever find her again. The pastor who fell into sin avoids the pulpit because shame gnaws at his soul. The man who lost his wealth to reckless decisions walks through the market ashamed of the whispers that follow him. Bishop T.D. Jakes captured this anguish with brutal honesty when he said, “Destiny errors scream louder than victories because shame has a louder voice than grace — until you remember that grace is eternal.” And then he thundered hope into despair with words that have become balm to many: “Your destiny is not fragile. God factored in your mistakes before you were born. What you think is an error, He already wrote into your comeback story.”
The Scriptures themselves are woven with the stories of men and women who believed their mistakes were final, only to discover that heaven was still working. Joseph, betrayed and sold into slavery, could have died bitter in an Egyptian prison, yet prison became the training ground for the palace. Ruth, whose widowhood seemed to close every door, walked straight into the lineage of Christ. Peter, who cursed and denied the Saviour, wept bitterly believing his ministry was over, yet Christ restored him and made him the voice that shook nations. Romans 8:28 does not just sound poetic; it is the architecture of heaven’s dealings: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” God wastes nothing; every scar is a star when it becomes a line in a greater story. Pastor Paul Adefarasin once looked into the faces of a congregation bruised by life and declared, “God does not waste pain. What you call an error is often His greatest classroom,” while John Piper, across the ocean, reminded his listeners, “God is doing 10,000 things in your life, and you may only be aware of three.”
You see it not only in ancient Scripture but in flesh and blood around us. Sister Angela, a young Nigerian woman who once sat in darkness after losing everything to a fraudulent investment scheme, now stands before crowds as she helps empower widows and single mothers. Tears fall freely down her cheeks when she says, “If I had not lost everything, I would never have found my purpose. My pain pushed me into my assignment.” In Chicago, Sir. Marcus, whose youth was swallowed by drugs, now kneels on the same streets he once sold poison on, praying over addicts who cling to his hands, whispering through tears, “The streets that saw me destroyed now see me redeemed. My mess became my message.” In London, Sis. Claire, a woman who once hid in the back seats of church after an abusive marriage left her feeling useless, now runs a home for battered women. “I thought my life was over,” she says, smiling as she watches children laugh in the shelter’s courtyard, “but God was only rewriting my story.” These are not motivational slogans; they are Romans 8:28 alive, breathing, walking.
Tender times are not the graveyards we think they are. They are God’s potter’s wheel, the silent workshop where He reshapes broken vessels into priceless art. Joyce Meyer once told a crowd of thousands, “You may have made a wrong turn, but God has GPS — God’s Positioning System — and He will reroute you if you keep moving.” Apostle Joshua Selman echoed the same truth when he looked over a quiet congregation and said, “Destiny is not lost when you fall; it is only lost when you stop getting up.” Every sunrise is a reminder of Lamentations 3:22-23, which sings softly but firmly into the ears of the weary: “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.”
And this is the secret that breaks chains: God has not abandoned you. Heaven is not trying to repair a ruined story; the story was written with your mistakes already accounted for. The enemy calls it an error; God calls it a brushstroke. The enemy calls it delay; God calls it timing. The enemy calls it over; God whispers, I am just beginning. So breathe again. Pray again. Dream again. Take another step even if your legs tremble. The husk of regret may feel bitter now, but inside it is the sweet kernel of purpose waiting to be tasted.
One day, when the tapestry is finally revealed, when you stand at the other side of all this pain, you will weep not with sorrow but with awe, whispering through grateful tears, If I had not fallen there, I would never have risen here. What you thought was the grave was the garden where God planted the seed of your greatest season. Every detour, every heartbreak, every tear is being woven by hands that never err, and when the final unveiling comes, the world will see what heaven has always known — you were never lost; you were only being led through broken roads to highways of glory.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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