He Saved Someone Like Me

There are moments — usually in the quiet — when the noise of the world finally fades.

No meetings.
No expectations.
No phone buzzing.
Just stillness.

And in that stillness, a thought sometimes rises that almost takes my breath away:

I cannot believe God saved someone like me.

Not the polished version of me.
Not the Sunday-morning version.
Not the version people think they see.

Me.

The one who has doubted.
The one who has failed.
The one who has promised God things and then forgotten by Tuesday.
The one who has known better… and still chosen differently.

And yet — He saved me.

The older I get, the more staggering that becomes.

When I read about Psalm 103, where David says, “He does not treat us as our sins deserve,” I feel that deeply. Because if I’m honest, there are seasons where I deserved distance. And instead, He drew near.

When I think about the cross — about what Jesus Christ endured — I can’t escape the weight of it. He knew every sin I would commit. Every selfish moment. Every hidden thought. Every time I would fall short.

And He went anyway.

That kind of love is not logical.
It is not transactional.
It is not earned.

It is grace.

And not only did He save me…
He has been patient with me.

Patient when I moved slowly.
Patient when I resisted growth.
Patient when I complained about circumstances He was using to shape me.

How many times has He protected me from consequences I never even saw?
How many times has He held back what I deserved and given me what I didn’t?

And this morning — He let me wake up again.

Another day.
Another chance.
Another opportunity to love better, to speak kinder, to live more surrendered.

There is something humbling about realizing that every sunrise is mercy.

Every breath is permission.

Every heartbeat is grace extended one more time.

I think sometimes we grow accustomed to being alive. We assume tomorrow. We plan next year. We speak as if time belongs to us.

But it doesn’t.

It is given.

And the fact that God would give another day to someone like me…
that He would not only tolerate me but desire me…
that He would call me His child…

That is overwhelming.

Not in a dramatic way.
In a quiet, sacred way.

The kind that makes you bow your head.

The kind that makes you whisper,
“Why me, Lord?”

And the answer is not because we earned it.

It is because He is love.

Today, if you find yourself in a quiet place, don’t rush past the thought.

Sit with it.

Let it humble you.
Let it soften you.
Let it move you.

Because the truth is this:

If He can save someone like me,
He can save anyone.

And if He has given me another day,
I don’t want to waste it.

Not after that kind of mercy.

 Closing Pray

Father,

We sit here this morning humbled.

When we look honestly at the left side of our page, we see our failures.
We see the moments we fell short.
We see attitudes, words, and choices we wish we could take back.

And yet, when we look at the right side, we see mercy.

We see protection we didn’t notice.
Patience we didn’t deserve.
Blessings we didn’t earn.
Another day we did not guarantee.

Thank You for not treating us as our sins deserve.

Thank You that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Thank You for running toward us instead of away from us.

During this Lenten season, don’t let us rush past grace.

Slow us down.

Help us feel the weight of mercy, not to shame us, but to soften us.

Teach us to live today differently because of it.

May our response to Your mercy be surrender.

May our gratitude turn into obedience.

And may we never grow casual about the cross.

We pray this with thankful hearts,

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.