Twelve weeks. We are now in the twelfth week of pregnancy, and my heart is full. With three beautiful children already filling our home and another precious life on the way, I’m overwhelmed by the goodness of my Lord. Yet, my story is not neat and tidy. It is one of brokenness and restoration, of loss and hope.

 

I also have another child—a child from a relationship before I knew my Lord. This is a part of my story that weighs heavily on my heart. I pray daily, in many ways, for this child. I pray for their protection, for their soul to know the love of Christ, and most of all, for the restoration of our relationship. This longing keeps me on my knees, trusting that the God who restores what is broken will, in His perfect time, restore this too.

 

Life today is full—demanding and beautiful. My wife and I work opposite schedules, balancing family, work, and faith. The days are long, and at times, the exhaustion feels relentless. Yet, through it all, my Lord is refining us as a family. We are being stretched, taught, and shaped in ways that only He could orchestrate. He is showing us that the hard moments are the holy ones—the spaces where He does His deepest work.

 

In all of this, I cling to His promise:

 

“And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 1:6, ESV)

 

These words steady my soul. He began this work—not me—and He will complete it. My Lord does not abandon His plans. He does not leave stories half-written. The same hands that are now forming this new life in the womb (Psalm 139:13–14) are still working in my life, in my family, and in the relationships that feel distant.

 

I cannot stand in this moment without remembering where I once stood. There was a time when I was far from my Lord—lost in addiction, consumed by drugs, drowning in alcohol. I wasn’t just running from God; I was running toward death. I drank myself into oblivion, trying to end it all on purpose.

 

By all human accounts, my story should have ended there.

 

But God..

 

Two words that changed everything.

 

“But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved.” (Ephesians 2:4–5, ESV)

 

I was dead. Not just broken—dead in sin. Yet my Lord, rich in mercy, reached into the grave I had dug for myself and called me to life. The Hebrew word chayah—to live, to revive, to restore—perfectly describes what He did. He chayah-ed me, breathing life into lungs that had given up and hope into a soul that had surrendered to despair.

 

And now?

 

Now, by His grace, I stand here—a husband, a father of soon-to-be four, and a man living in the mercy of my Lord. But even as I rejoice in what He has done, I know the story isn’t finished. My prayers continue for the child I don’t see daily. My heart aches for restoration. Yet, I know the same power that raised me from death to life can restore what is broken.

 

This season is one of waiting and trusting. The schedules are demanding, the responsibilities heavy, and the wounds of the past still tender. But my Lord’s grace is sufficient.

 

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

 

His power shines brightest in the places where I have none. The hard days, the prayers for reconciliation, the daily grind—my Lord is using all of it. Holiness grows in the mundane. Growth happens in the hidden places—through late-night prayers, quiet acts of love, and the daily decision to trust that He finishes what He starts.

 

I often look back in awe. From death to life. From addiction to freedom. From hopelessness to a home filled with laughter and love. But my Lord isn’t done.

 

The Author of life does not leave His stories incomplete. He who began a good work in me—in my marriage, in my home, and in the lives of all my children, both near and distant—He will see it through.

 

For anyone who finds themselves in the in-between—between the wreckage of the past and the hope of what could be—take heart. The same Lord who brings life from the dust is still writing your story. He restores. He redeems. He completes.

 

“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.” (Ephesians 3:20–21, ESV)

 

From death to life. From brokenness to redemption. From distant relationships to restored ones. My Lord is good—and He is not finished yet.