Luck is a story we tell ourselves when we're too lazy to see the design.
There are only blessings. And they arrive in two ways.
First, there's the rain.
It falls. You didn't schedule it. You can't earn it. It wasn't in your plan.
A phone call from an old friend, just when you needed it. An unexpected check that covers a bill you were worried about. An insight that unlocks everything.
That’s not luck. That’s grace. A gift from above.
Then, there’s the harvest.
A harvest is not an accident.
A harvest happens because you tilled the soil. You planted the seed. You showed up, day after day, even if it was hard, even if you didn’t feel like it, and pulled the weeds when no one was watching.
This is the work done with all your heart, as if working for the Lord, and not for human masters (Colossians 3:23).
It’s the blessing of diligence. The fruit that comes from your focus, your generosity, your craft. It’s the result of the process. The work.
The world calls it "earned luck." A better name is stewardship.
But here's the thing:
You can do all the work... and the harvest might not come. Not when you expect it. Not how you expect it.
And that’s the point.
The work isn't a transaction. It's not a vending machine where you put in faithfulness and get out a promotion.
The work is an act of faith. It's about showing up and preparing the ground.
To be grateful for the rain when it comes.
And to keep farming, faithfully, while you wait for the sun.
That should be the posture of the heart. That should be what it means to be ready for a blessing.
First, there's the rain.
It falls. You didn't schedule it. You can't earn it. It wasn't in your plan.
A phone call from an old friend, just when you needed it. An unexpected check that covers a bill you were worried about. An insight that unlocks everything.
That’s not luck. That’s grace. A gift from above.
Then, there’s the harvest.
A harvest is not an accident.
A harvest happens because you tilled the soil. You planted the seed. You showed up, day after day, even if it was hard, even if you didn’t feel like it, and pulled the weeds when no one was watching.
This is the work done with all your heart, as if working for the Lord, and not for human masters (Colossians 3:23).
It’s the blessing of diligence. The fruit that comes from your focus, your generosity, your craft. It’s the result of the process. The work.
The world calls it "earned luck." A better name is stewardship.
But here's the thing:
You can do all the work... and the harvest might not come. Not when you expect it. Not how you expect it.
And that’s the point.
The work isn't a transaction. It's not a vending machine where you put in faithfulness and get out a promotion.
The work is an act of faith. It's about showing up and preparing the ground.
To be grateful for the rain when it comes.
And to keep farming, faithfully, while you wait for the sun.
That should be the posture of the heart. That should be what it means to be ready for a blessing.
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