This One's on Me

His mercies are really new every morning. Whew.

May 26, 2025

Another day, another what? Word.

Sitting down to write feels unfamiliar. It’s been a while. Almost like I’ve lost my touch, or like I’m starting over, learning how to write again. I’ll spare you the details for now, but I made a mistake. One of those mistakes you only see clearly in hindsight. When the noise settles. When it’s just you, God, and the quiet question: “Was that You… or was that me?”

From the very beginning, I’ve said this space isn’t about polished reflections or pretending to have it all together. Lord knows I don’t. This space is for honesty. For wrestles, stumbles, and the slow, often messy growth that happens in real-time.

So, in full honesty: I, Eunice, didn’t wait on God. I moved ahead without the clarity that only comes from Him. And it’s only by His mercy and grace that I’m here writing this—not from a place of resolution, but from a place of pain, and yes, some shame.

You know those moments when you trip and miss a step and all you want to do is lay there? Or better yet, go home and never come outside again? Yeah. That kind.

We often hear “Do not despise small beginnings” (Zec 4:10), but I’ve been learning that it’s just as important not to despise the moments when we miss it. When we move ahead too soon. When we try to prove something. When we think we’re past the lesson.

Sometimes the most sacred beginning is the one that comes after a mistake. The one where you realize you got it wrong and choose to come back anyway. That, too, is holy ground.

Do not despise the day of realizing you were wrong !!

The Hebrew word for despise is bazah, which means to show contempt, undervalue, or treat with scorn. It makes me think about how often we scorn our humanity. How we treat our moments of failure like they’re something God can’t use, forgetting that the same God who formed us from dust is not afraid of our mess. He is not afraid of our wrong turns nor is He intimidated by our missteps. What God desires isn’t our perfection—it’s our posture.

The sacrifice you desire is a broken spirit. You will not reject a broken and repentant heart, O God.
Psalm 51:17 [NLT]

There’s something about being human that humbles us. We forget. We assume. We fall. And no matter how much strength we wear on the outside, mistakes still find their way in. It’s not a matter of if, but when. But what matters more is how we respond. Sometimes pride keeps us in places we no longer belong, not because they’re right, but because we’d rather prove a point than admit we missed it. Let me be the one to tell you that’s the danger of ego—it wants to be right, even if it means walking alone.

But God resists the proud and gives grace to the humble (James 4:6), meaning there’s strength in saying, “I was wrong.” There’s freedom in choosing surrender over stubbornness. There’s healing in admitting we need Him more than we thought we did. And while you're busy trying to protect your image or avoid admitting you missed it, He’s waiting on the other side of surrender—not with shame, but with open arms.

Peter denied Jesus three times. Thomas doubted. Moses struck the rock. David misstepped, repeatedly. And still, God used them. Still, He called them His own. Still, He redeemed their stories.

So if you’ve been carrying shame for being wrong, if you moved before God said move, or if you stayed when He said let go, don’t despise that place. Because that is often where God does some of His holiest, deepest, and most healing work.

Maybe your mistake wasn’t your undoing. Maybe it was your meeting place. The place where you and God begin a new conversation. A new beginning not built on proving anything, but on trusting Him with everything.

Humility takes strength. It’s not about pretending it didn’t happen. It’s about acknowledging where you missed it and letting God meet you there.

So today, I remind myself, and maybe you too: don’t despise being wrong. Let it teach you. Let it soften you. Let it lead you back to the One who never stopped walking with you.

Until next time for another day, another word!

With love,

Eunice