It’s not over

There are moments when everything in you whispers, this must be the end.

When the walls feel like they are closing in, and the night is heavier than your strength can carry. When you find yourself thrown into a lion’s den with jaws waiting to tear you apart. When you sink into the belly of a fish, swallowed by the consequences, swallowed by despair, swallowed by silence. When the furnace flames roar hotter than you thought you could endure, and everything in you cries out that this fire will be your undoing. When the stone is rolled across the tomb, sealing away every hope you held.

And yet—

none of these were the end.

The lions became pillows in Daniel’s night watch.

The fish’s belly became Jonah’s altar of surrender. The furnace became a meeting place where the Son of God walked in the fire.

The sealed tomb became the very place resurrection erupted.

It’s not over.

Not when your story feels buried. Not when the weight feels final. Not when your breath feels thin and your prayers feel unanswered. Even in the chapters that look like defeat, God is still moving. Heaven is still writing.

The end is never the end when God has declared a future.

So, if you find yourself here—caught in the tension of what looks like finality—

God does His best work in places that seem impossible. He writes His glory into moments the world calls finished. What men meant for evil, He bends into goodness. What the enemy sealed up, He breaks wide open.

And in your own story—this fragile, breaking, bleeding chapter—it is not the end. Not yet. Not ever.

Because God is still moving.

Still breathing.

Still resurrecting.

Still making a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

So hold on. Stay in the story. Lean into the Author. The last word has not been spoken, and when He speaks, life comes rushing in again.

Even now—He is not finished with you.