I was standing in a church service a few weeks ago when the worship team started playing a Josh Baldwin song I hadn't heard before. "Made for More." And the chorus hit me somewhere I wasn't expecting:
I wasn't meant to be tending a grave. I've been called by name, born and raised back to life again. I was made for more. So why would I make a bed in my shame, when a fountain of grace is running my way? I know I am His, and I was made for more.
I stood there holding my coffee, completely undone.
Because here's the thing—I had just walked through a situation where someone did something that could have sent me spiraling. The kind of situation where the thought came into my mind: respond in anger. Let them have it. They deserve it.
And in that moment, I had a choice.
We always have a choice.
The Grave We Keep Tending
Can I be honest with you?
So many of us are living like we're still dead. We accepted Jesus. We know we're saved. But somewhere along the way, we set up camp next to the tomb and started tending the grave of our old self like it's a full-time job.
We replay the shame. We rehearse the failure. We let the enemy whisper that we're disqualified because of what we did—or even worse, because of what we thought about doing.
And the flesh? The flesh is more than happy to help.
Paul wrote something in Colossians that I need you to really hear:
"For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God." — Colossians 3:3 (KJV)
Read that again. Ye are dead.
Not "ye are trying really hard to be better." Not "ye are mostly improved but still a work in progress."
Dead.
That old version of you—the one who didn't know grace, the one who lived for the flesh, the one who was defined by shame—she's dead. And your real life? It's hidden with Christ. Safe. Secure. Covered.
So why do we keep going back to the grave to check on a corpse?
The Three Enemies
Here's what I've learned about the battle for our minds: there are three voices constantly vying for our attention.
The flesh. This is your old nature—the part of you that wants to react, retaliate, and hold grudges. The flesh doesn't die quietly. It shoots thoughts through your mind like flaming arrows, hoping you'll pick one up and run with it.
The enemy. Satan is the accuser. He whispers that you're disqualified. That your thoughts prove you're not really saved. That if people knew what went on in your head, they'd never be your friend. He wants you living in shame because shame keeps you ineffective.
The Spirit. This is the still, small voice. The one that reminds you who you actually are. The one that says, "That thought? That's not you anymore. You don't have to follow it."
Jesus said it this way:
"My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me." — John 10:27 (KJV)
When you've been pouring God's Word into your mind regularly, you start to recognize His voice. And when you recognize His voice, you also recognize the ones that aren't His.
A thought that says "retaliate"? That's not my Shepherd's voice.
A thought that says "you're worthless"? That's not my Shepherd's voice.
A thought that says "pray for those who despitefully use you"? Now that sounds like Him:
"But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you." — Matthew 5:44 (KJV)
The flesh and the enemy will always be loud. But the Spirit speaks truth—and truth sets you free.
You Are Not Your Worst Thought
Can I tell you something that took me years to understand?
Having a thought is not the same as acting on it.
The enemy wants you to believe that the thought itself disqualifies you. That if you thought about responding in anger, you're just as guilty as if you'd done it. That if a dark thought crossed your mind, you must be a dark person.
That's a lie.
Thoughts come. They come from the flesh. They come from the enemy. They come from nowhere sometimes. The question isn't whether thoughts will come—the question is what you do with them.
You get to choose which thoughts you entertain. Which ones you dwell on. Which ones you act on.
"Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ." — 2 Corinthians 10:5 (KJV)
Bringing thoughts into captivity doesn't mean you never have them. It means you don't let them run wild. You recognize them, you reject the ones that don't align with truth, and you choose to focus on what God says about you instead.
You are not your worst thought.
You are who God says you are.
The Fountain Is Running Your Way
That situation I mentioned at the beginning—the one where I could have responded in anger?
I didn't.
Not because I'm impressive. Not because I've arrived. But because I've been in the ring with bitterness before, and I know how that fight ends. Bitterness always wins if you let it stay.
I remember a time in my twenties when I had a boss who treated me horribly. Forgiving her took an entire year. It was a daily battle—choosing to release it, choosing not to replay it, choosing to trust God with the injustice. Some days I won. Some days I had to start over.
But since that battle, letting go of wrongs has become easier. Not effortless—just... practiced. The muscle memory is there now.
Now there are some people whose behaviors are damaging, and I guard my heart around them. But I don't harbor ill will. I don't replay their offenses. I don't wish them harm. And I attribute that entirely to leaning into God and asking for His strength.
He's always faithful.
"Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." — Romans 12:19 (KJV)
Vengeance isn't your job. Justice isn't your job. Your job is to release it to Him and trust that He sees. He knows. He will handle it.
The fountain of grace is running your way. Right now. Not after you fix your thought life. Not after you've earned it. Right now, in this moment, grace is available.
Made for More
So here's what I want you to walk away knowing:
You were never meant to tend a grave.
You were never meant to make a bed in your shame.
You were called by name. Born and raised back to life. Hidden with Christ in God.
Not because you've cleaned yourself up. Not because you've finally gotten your thought life under control. But because your identity in Christ was never based on your performance. It was based on His.
You are not your worst thought. You are not the shame you carry. You are not the grave you've been tending.
You are hidden with Christ in God. Covered. Held. Loved.
And you were made for more than this.
Stop tending the grave.
Stop making a bed in your shame.
You were made for more.
— Irene D.
Thanks for reading. If this encouraged you, I'd love for you to share it with a friend who needs it too.
— Irene D.