Tag Archive for: 1 Peter 2:9

1 Peter 2:9 — But you are not like that, for you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God’s very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light. 

The wind hits first—sharp and loud—as two men clip themselves onto a radio tower before sunrise.

Cody is new to the job. New to the height. New to being strapped in beside the same person for twelve hours a day. This kind of work demands trust. Even if you don’t like the person next to you, your life depends on them.

Every morning, Cody turns on worship music from his phone and prays out loud. Not to make a point—there’s just nowhere to hide it up here.

His climbing partner makes his feelings clear early on. He doesn’t believe in God. In fact, he says he hates Him.

Cody doesn’t argue.

But he also doesn’t turn the music off.

Days stretch into weeks. The scoffing slowly turns into small talk. Then one morning, the partner asks Cody to pray—but not for him. Just for his daughter.

So Cody prays right there on the tower.

And they go back to work.

Then one night, Cody’s phone rings.

His coworker’s voice sounds different. Heavy. Desperate. He admits he has relapsed in his addiction and doesn’t want to live anymore.

Cody calls his dad, and together they sit with the man for hours. No preaching. No pressure. Just the simple truths of the gospel: you are loved, you have purpose, and God has a plan for your life.

Later, the coworker admits something that surprises Cody.

It wasn’t an argument that made him call.

It was the worship music. It was Cody’s consistency. It was the steady love that felt trustworthy and real.

Scripture reminds us that God has called His people out of darkness and into His wonderful light—not just so we can experience it, but so we can show His goodness to others.

Cody didn’t know how deep the darkness was for his coworker. He simply kept living in the light long enough for someone else to notice it.

And that’s often how God works.

Somewhere near you, someone is watching what faith looks like in real life—in long days, ordinary conversations, and quiet moments when love costs time and attention.

So keep living your faith out loud.

Consistency can soften hearts that arguments never will.

And when the light stays on long enough, it has a way of drawing people home.


A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Who in your life regularly sees how you live out your faith?
  • Why do you think consistency can influence people more than arguments?
  • How does knowing you are “chosen” by God change the way you live around others?
  • What might it look like for you to shine God’s light in an ordinary moment this week?
  • Who might be watching your faith more closely than you realize?

1 Peter 2:9 — For you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God’s very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for He called you out of the darkness into His wonderful light.

I was chatting with a Southern belle friend of mine recently over coffee about how our ships are so totally sunk apart from the transformational power of God’s grace.

After a while, she sighed and mused dreamily, “The Gospel reminds me of the Cinderella story.” She went on to explain how she thought humanity was like Cinderella, and Jesus was like the divine prince.

I don’t remember how I responded verbatim; I think I just hemmed and hawed a bit and then changed the subject. But her observation rubbed the fur of my heart in the wrong direction. I kept mulling over . . . until eventually the source of my angst hit me.

Here’s the deal: if you’ve read the book or rented the movie, you know that Cinderella deserved the prince.

She was gorgeous, she was personable, she had a strong work ethic, and she was kind to animals (who in their right mind is nice to mice?). Not to mention that voice. Furthermore, she was used and abused by her soap-opera of a stepfamily.

So when the glass slipper fits and the fairytale concludes with happily ever after, we turn the page with happy satisfaction because good triumphed over evil.

But that’s not at all what happens in the Gospel.

In God’s true story, the ugly, horrible, abusive stepsister gets to marry King Jesus. I mean, come on. She’s the girl who locked her sister in a tower in order to get ahead! She’s horrible to animals! And she can’t sing a note!

Everyone at the ball is dumbfounded when he gallantly strides across the dance floor, and asks her to join him for the waltz. I can just hear the ladies muffling under their breath.

Um, looks like the royals have seriously lowered their standards.

But right there, in front of that shell-shocked crowd, the ugly stepsister becomes beautiful in the adoring, undeserved gaze of the handsome prince. His love transforms her—not a fairy godmother—from the inside out. He takes her record of selfishness and pays for it himself and clothes her in honor and splendor.

That’s the divine love story we’ve been written into. We were once the ugly stepsister, you and me. That’s who we were. But now we’re royalty. That’s who we are now. All made possible by the One, true, perfect and powerful King who picked the worst of us out of a crowd and made us His very own.

— Lisa Harper