Welcome to Pomoja Ministry. At the end of our
last conversation, we discovered something powerful.
There are moments when God establishes a boundary
and declares, this far and no farther. The waves
may rise, but there is a boundary. The fire may
burn, but there is a boundary. The enemy may
pursue, but there is a boundary. And when God
says, no farther, The battle does not have unlimited
authority, but today I want us to go deeper because
sometimes God does more than stop what was coming
against you. Sometimes he reverses it. Sometimes
the story changes direction. Sometimes what was
moving toward destruction begins moving toward
deliverance. Sometimes the thing that appeared
to have the advantage suddenly loses it. Sometimes
the place that looked like the end becomes the
place where God begins something new. And perhaps
this is another mystery of divine intervention.
God does not always remove you from the situation.
Sometimes he changes what the situation is producing.
The prison becomes preparation. The pursuit becomes
deliverance. The accusation becomes vindication,
the grave becomes resurrection, the cross becomes
salvation, and what appeared to be moving in
one direction suddenly turns. Not because human
strength became greater, not because circumstances
became easier, but because God stepped into the
story. There is something fascinating about divine
intervention. We often imagine it as interruption.
Something bad is happening. God stops it. And
yes, sometimes that is exactly what happens.
But scripture reveals another dimension. Sometimes
God allows events to continue long enough that
the enemy becomes convinced he understands the
ending. Then God changes the direction of the
story. Think about the Red Sea. Israel is moving
forward. Pharaoh is behind them. The sea is before
them. Everything appears to favor Egypt. Pharaoh
has horses, chariots, weapons, military experience.
Israel has frightened families standing beside
water. From the natural perspective, there is
no comparison. Egypt appears stronger. And then
God opens the sea. Israel walks through. But
Pharaoh makes a fatal assumption. He assumes
that because the road opened for Israel, the
same road belongs to him. He enters the sea,
and suddenly the place Pharaoh believed would
give him access to Israel becomes the place where
his pursuit ends. Do you see the reversal? The
sea that looked like Israel's trap became Israel's
road. And the road Pharaoh believed would lead
him to victory became the end of his pursuit.
Same sea, different outcome, because God was
in the story. Sometimes the thing that looks
like it is blocking you may become the very place
through which God demonstrates his faithfulness.
Sometimes what appears to be the end of the road
becomes a road you did not know existed. And
sometimes the enemy follows you into territory
where only God can sustain you. Then discovers
what God opened for you was never permission
for him. That is reversal. There is a frightening
story in the book of Esther. A man named Haman
becomes consumed with hatred toward Mordecai.
He does not simply want Mordecai embarrassed.
He wants him dead. and eventually Haman builds
gallows specifically for Mordecai. Think about
that. The structure already exists. The intention
already exists. The plan already exists. Haman
goes to the king, expecting to secure Mordecai's
destruction. But before Haman can present his
request, the king asks him a question. What should
be done for the man the king delights to honor?
Haman assumes the king is talking about him.
So Haman describes an elaborate public honor,
royal robes, the king's horse, a public procession,
a proclamation before the people, and then the
king says something Haman never expected. Go
and do exactly that for Mordecai. Imagine that
moment, the man who came expecting permission
to destroy Mordecai. is commanded to publicly
honor him. But the reversal goes even farther.
The gallows Haman built for Mordecai eventually
becomes the place of Haman's own execution. The
trap changed owners. And I want to be careful
with this revelation. This is not permission
for Christians to pray for people's destruction.
Jesus taught us to love our enemies and pray
for those who persecute us. Our prayer is not,
God destroy everyone who opposes me. No. Our
prayer is, God let truth prevail. Let evil fail.
Let your righteousness stand. Because sometimes
divine reversal is not about destroying a person.
It is about destroying the intention of evil.
A lie can collapse. An accusation can lose credibility.
A scheme can be exposed. A manipulation can fail.
A door opened through dishonesty can close, and
something designed to bury you can become evidence
that God was preserving you. You do not need
revenge when you trust the judge. You do not
need to become like your enemy in order to survive
your enemy. You do not need hatred to overcome
hatred. Sometimes your responsibility is simply
to remain faithful. while God handles what you
cannot. Joseph's story gives us another kind
of reversal. His brothers remove his robe. They
throw him into a pit. They sell him. He becomes
a servant. He is falsely accused. He becomes
a prisoner. Everything moves downward. Dream.
Pit. Pit. Slavery. Slavery. Accusation. Accusation.
Prison. If you stop Joseph's story there, You
could reasonably ask, where is God? Because everything
appears to be moving in the wrong direction.
But then Pharaoh has a dream. The cup bearer
remembers Joseph. Joseph is summoned. And suddenly,
the direction changes. The prisoner becomes governor.
But there is something deeper here. Joseph's
reversal did not begin the day he stood before
Pharaoh. God had been preparing him throughout
the downward chapters. The gift he needed in
the palace was already operating in the prison.
The administrative wisdom he would need over
Egypt was being developed in places that did
not look anything like destiny. That means reversal
is not always God suddenly doing something unrelated
to what came before. Sometimes he reveals that
he had been redeeming the road all along. Joseph's
prison was unjust, but prison could not prevent
preparation. His brother's betrayal was evil,
but betrayal could not cancel purpose. False
accusation damaged his circumstances, but it
could not remove God's presence. And eventually,
Joseph could look backward and say, you intended
to harm me, but God intended it for good. There
are those words again, but God. Maybe that is
the language of reversal. The enemy intended
one thing, but God. People decided one thing,
but God. Circumstances predicted one thing, but
God. The chapter looked finished, but God. Never
underestimate what can happen after those two
words. Psalm 126 begins with extraordinary language.
When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
we were like those who dreamed. Another translation
says, when the Lord turned again the captivity
of Zion. I love that language. Turned. There
are seasons when you have been facing one direction
for so long that another reality becomes difficult
to imagine. You become accustomed to survival,
accustomed to waiting, accustomed to disappointment,
accustomed to praying about the same thing, accustomed
to carrying the same burden. And then God turned
something. The psalm says the people were like
those who dreamed. Why? Because sometimes restoration
feels unbelievable to people who have lived with
captivity for too long. Then their mouths were
filled with laughter, their tongues with songs
of joy. And even the nations began saying, the
Lord has done great things for them. Notice the
transformation. Captivity becomes testimony.
Tears become songs. Waiting becomes laughter.
And then comes another powerful line. Those who
sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. That
is reversal. The tears were real. Scripture does
not deny them. But tears were not the final harvest.
You can sow crying and reap singing. You can
enter one season carrying seed and sorrow and
enter another carrying sheaves and joy. That
does not mean every painful circumstance will
reverse exactly the way we want. Biblical faith
is not pretending we control outcomes, but it
does mean that no present season is powerful
enough to make God incapable of writing another
chapter. If God decides to turn something, It
can turn. Paul and Silas are beaten and imprisoned.
Their feet are fastened in stocks. Humanly speaking,
everything about the situation communicates restriction.
They cannot leave. They cannot control the gods.
They cannot change the legal system. They cannot
simply walk through the door. So at midnight,
they pray. And they sing. I want you to notice
something. They worship before the circumstances
change. They do not wait for the prison doors
to open before deciding God is worthy. They worship
while still confined. And then suddenly, there
is an earthquake. The foundations of the prison
shake. The doors open. The chains come loose.
But here's where the reversal becomes beautiful.
The greatest miracle that night may not have
been the open prison. Because the jailer sees
the doors open and assumes the prisoners have
escaped, he prepares to take his own life and
Paul cries out, don't harm yourself, we are all
here. The jailer asks, what must I do to be saved?
And before the night is over, the man responsible
for guarding prisoners is washing their wounds.
The same house connected to imprisonment becomes
a place where the gospel enters a family. Look
at the reversal. Paul entered the prison as the
one being guarded. By the end of the night, he
is ministering to the guard. The environment
that was supposed to silence him became another
place for the gospel. This is what I mean when
I say, sometimes God does not simply bring you
out. He changes what the place is producing.
The prison says, I will silence you. God says,
you will preach here too. The chains say, I will
restrict you. God says, you will worship here
too. Midnight says, this is darkness. God says,
then worship me in the dark. And suddenly the
prison discovers that it cannot imprison purpose.
But if we are going to speak about divine reversal,
we must eventually come to Calvary, because the
cross is the greatest reversal in the Christian
story. Jesus is betrayed, arrested, falsely accused,
mocked, beaten, crucified, and buried. From the
perspective of his enemies, it appears finished.
The teacher is silent. The disciples are scattered.
The body is inside a tomb. A stone is rolled
into place. The grave appears to have won. And
then comes the third day. The stone is rolled
away. The tomb is empty. Jesus Christ is risen.
And suddenly the instrument of shame becomes
the symbol of salvation. The place of apparent
defeat becomes the place where victory is revealed.
Death itself encounters a boundary. The grave
discovers that it cannot hold the author of life.
And this is why Christianity does not merely
teach us optimism. Our hope is rooted in resurrection.
We follow a savior whose story passed through
death and came out the other side. The cross
teaches us never to judge God's final purpose
by Friday. Friday says it is over. Saturday says
nothing is happening. But Sunday reveals God
was not finished. And perhaps somebody listening
is living in a Friday season. Something has died.
Something has ended. Something appears sealed.
Or maybe you are in Saturday. Nothing seems to
be moving. Heaven seems quiet. You cannot see
what God is doing. Be careful about writing the
conclusion while God is still writing the story.
Because resurrection teaches us that sometimes
what looks like the end is standing beside a
beginning you cannot see yet. And here we need
wisdom. Because when we hear the word reversal,
we may immediately imagine God returning everything
exactly to how it used to be. But sometimes God's
reversal is not restoration backward. It is transformation
forward. Joseph did not return to the pit and
pretend it never happened. He moved forward.
Israel did not return to Egypt after crossing
the sea. They moved forward. The resurrected
Christ did not simply return to ordinary life
as though calvary never occurred. Resurrection
opened something entirely new. Sometimes we pray,
God, give me back what I had. And sometimes God
may restore, but sometimes he says, I am not
taking you backward, I am bringing you forward.
You may not get the old season back. You may
receive grace for a new one. You may not return
to who you were before the battle. You may become
someone deeper because you walk through it. You
may not recover every opportunity exactly as
it appeared before. But God can create opportunities
you could not have imagined then. Reversal is
not always, give me yesterday again. Sometimes
reversal is, yesterday no longer controls tomorrow.
That is freedom. There is another danger. When
we become desperate for circumstances to change,
we may attempt to manufacture what only God should
orchestrate. We manipulate. We force doors. We
retaliate. We send messages we should not send.
We try to expose people. We defend ourselves
compulsively. We become consumed with making
people understand our side. We try to produce
vindication with our own hands. But some battles
become more complicated because we refuse to
let God handle what belongs to Him. There is
a difference between responsible action and anxious
control. There are times Scripture calls us to
speak, times to act, times to appeal, times to
confront injustice, times to make wise decisions.
Faith is not passivity, but there are also moments
when after we have done what righteousness requires.
We must stop trying to be God. You cannot control
every opinion. You cannot correct every lie.
You cannot force every person to understand.
You cannot manufacture every outcome. Sometimes
you have to say, Father, I have done what I can
do faithfully. Now I trust you with what I cannot.
And that is difficult, because waiting for God
to turn something requires surrender. But sometimes
the reversal begins when we stop fighting in
ways God never instructed us to fight. So bring
everything together. The sea. The trap. The prison.
The captivity. The midnight worship. The cross.
Different stories. One revelation. God can change
the direction of a story. He can make a road
where there was no road. He can expose what was
hidden. He can redeem what was wounded. He can
turn mourning into dancing. He can bring purpose
out of confinement. He can turn captivity. He
can bring resurrection out of what looked final.
And perhaps today you are standing in a chapter
that seems to be moving in the wrong direction.
I cannot promise you exactly how God will resolve
it. I cannot give you a date. I cannot tell you
that every circumstance will end exactly the
way you want. Faith does not require us to make
promises God has not made. But I can tell you
this. Your present circumstances are not sovereign.
God is. And therefore, as long as God is still
writing, you cannot assume you already know the
ending. There may still be a, but God, coming
somewhere in the story, There may still be a
road you cannot see. There may still be an answer
you cannot imagine. There may still be redemption
hidden inside a chapter you currently do not
understand. There may still be purpose beyond
this pain. There may still be mourning after
this midnight. And there may still be resurrection
beyond what looks finished. Maybe those are the
words. I want to leave in your spirit today.
But God, when everything appears to be moving
in one direction, remember, but God, when the
door appears permanently closed, but God, when
the situation appears impossible, but God, when
human intention has already decided the outcome,
but God, when you have cried until you have no
more tears, but God. When you have reached the
end of your own strength, but God. When Friday
looks final, but God. Because divine intervention
means the story does not belong exclusively to
what is happening. It belongs to the God who
remains sovereign over what is happening. So
Father, I surrender the outcome to you. Where
something needs to stop, stop it. Where something
needs to move, Move it. Where something needs
to be exposed, expose it. Where something needs
to be redeemed, redeem it. Where something needs
to be restored, restore it according to your
will. Where something needs to end, give me grace
to release it. And where you are opening something
new, give me courage to walk forward. I will
not manipulate the outcome. I will not become
consumed with revenge. I will not allow bitterness
to become my response to opposition. I will not
attempt to sit upon a throne that belongs only
to you. You are God, and I trust you. I trust
you when you stop the battle. I trust you when
you carry me through the battle. I trust you
when you establish the boundary, and I trust
you when you decide. to turn the battle around,
because the enemy may have an intention, but
God, people may have a plan, but God, circumstances
may have a prediction, but God, the grave may
have a stone, but God, and as long as God remains
God, the story can still change. But this raises
another question. perhaps one of the hardest
questions in the entire mystery of divine intervention,
if God can reverse the battle. Why doesn't He
always do it immediately? Why did Israel have
to reach the Red Sea before the waters opened?
Why did the disciples have to experience the
storm before Jesus spoke to the wind? Why did
Lazarus remain in the tomb for four days before
Jesus arrived? Why are there moments when God
clearly has the power to intervene, and yet He
appears to wait. Why does divine intervention
sometimes arrive only after we have exhausted
every other possibility? Why does God sometimes
allow the situation to reach a place where human
strength can do absolutely nothing? And perhaps
the question beneath all those questions is the
one many faithful believers have whispered in
difficult seasons. God, why did you wait? Maybe
waiting is not always evidence that God has forgotten.
Maybe delay does not necessarily mean denial.
Maybe what we call late, heaven sees differently.
And maybe there are things God reveals only when
human possibility has reached its end. That is
where we are going next. Until then, stay rooted
in Jesus Christ.