The musings of Peter

Isaiah 64 and 65 feel like a conversation. One that I have had many times with Jesus. For that I am ashamed, and for that I am relieved.

Israel says to the Lord, I have sinned. Not once, not by mistake, but knowingly. I walked away from my God—a God who lived in my midst, who protected me, who provided for me. And still, it wasn’t enough for my proud heart. I wanted to rule myself. I didn’t want to yield, or obey, or admit that I needed God to live rightly. I believed I could be my own master. And yet here I am. Broken. Not a master, but a slave. Unable to lead, unable to protect, unable to hold it all together. I have failed. And now I am begging for mercy. That is Isaiah 64. It is the collapse of pride. The realization that the life we insisted on building for ourselves was never real to begin with. I have been there. I have learned that you can have everything and still feel empty inside, and you can have very little and be at peace. That peace comes from knowing this world is not our home, and that our friend Jesus has something better waiting for us. But I am getting ahead of myself.

Isaiah 65 is God’s answer.

It is a humbling reply, but also a gentle one. After we fall to our knees, after we finally admit what we have done, God responds—not with anger, but with something deeper. Why do you think I am still here? You ignored me. You insulted me. You turned away from me. And still, I did not leave. It has not gone well for you. You are worn down, scattered, emptied out. And now you come back with nothing in your hands. Who could blame God for walking away? How much rejection does He endure before He says enough? His enduring Love keeps Him standing with His arms outstretched. His stance say My world is better with you in it, I can forgive because I love you. 

We’ve all seen it. Parents with children who have gone off the rails—drugs, drinking, defiance. Everyone has advice. Be tougher. Draw a line. Stop letting them walk all over you. The judgment from others is endless. But every good parent responds the same way. Just because you stopped loving me doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. That is God’s response. Even when we don’t just ignore Him, but push against Him,even attack Him,  He remains. Arms open. Waiting. Not forcing. Not leaving. Just waiting for us to come home. And His home is not empty. It is full of peace, of joy, of love. A place that shelters us from everything this world throws at us.

Most of us have experienced God’s grace in some way. You wouldn’t be here reading this if you hadn’t. For some, that grace comes in a dramatic moment that changes everything—jobs left behind, new paths taken, a complete turning of life. Those are the stories we hear at retreats. But for most of us, it is quieter. We don’t leave our lives behind. We begin to see them differently. We look at our children and realize—they were given to us. Not by chance, but by God. That we are meant to lead them, not just toward success, but toward Heaven. And maybe we had lost sight of that. Maybe we were chasing the wrong things for them—achievement, recognition, approval—while missing what mattered most. Or we look at our work. Maybe God gave us the ability to lead, to manage, to build. But instead of lifting people up, we pushed them too hard, overlooked their dignity, forgot who we were called to be.

Grace shines a light. And in that light, we see both what is good—and what needs to change. Through all of this, God stands with arms outstretched, asking us to come closer. He never meant for us to walk alone. He was always meant to walk beside us.

I was watching a documentary on dinosaurs recently—stay with me for a moment. It showed how the world developed over immense stretches of time. Mountains rose, forests grew, life became more complex, more beautiful. What began as something simple became something rich and full—valleys, oceans, flowers, all of it. And it struck me. God spent ages shaping a world filled with beauty and order, a place where life could flourish. Not by accident, but with intention. He did it for us, so that we could experience His love, we could see His commitment.

Isaiah 65 speaks of a new heaven and a new earth. This world, as beautiful as it is, is not the final one. God is preparing something greater.

And when you step back and look at it all—the care, the patience, the scale of it—you begin to see something clearly.

God is deeply invested in us.

He wants us to succeed. He wants us with Him.

And all He asks is this:

Say yes.

We don’t have to fix everything. We don’t have to control the world. We don’t have to prove ourselves.

We just have to say yes—and walk with Him.