When we hear or read the words, “For I know the thoughts I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope,” we often stop at the comfort of the promise—but those thoughts aren’t vague. They’re visible. They’re written into the entire story of Scripture.
From the Garden to the Kingdom, God’s intention has always been for His people to thrive. In Genesis 2, God didn’t create man and then look for a place to put him—He prepared Eden first, a place of beauty, abundance, and provision. Then He placed man in that garden. That is the heart of the Father: to position His children where they can thrive.
Later, when delivering His people from Egypt, He didn’t just bring them out—He brought them in. Into a land flowing with milk and honey, a land He handpicked for them (Deuteronomy 8:7-10). Just like Eden, this land was a reflection of His desire to see His people not just survive, but flourish.
We see this truth echoed throughout Scripture. The first Psalm says the blessed man is like a tree planted by rivers of water, bringing forth fruit in its season, with leaves that do not wither. That’s a picture of thriving, of stability and continual nourishment.
In the New Testament, Paul writes that in Christ we have been blessed with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places (Ephesians 1:3). Jesus reminds us that our treasure is stored in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal (Matthew 6:19-21). The Kingdom of Heaven isn’t just a destination—it’s a reality we are invited to live from, where we are secure, provided for, and rooted in love.
And more than just a place of blessing, the Kingdom is a place of permanence. Jesus says in Revelation 3:12, "The one who overcomes, I will make a pillar in the temple of My God, and he shall go out no more." He is establishing us in a place we can never be cast out of. That’s His heart.
But somewhere along the way, we lost sight of that. Many of us have come to expect God’s judgment more than His goodness. We see Him as holding back rather than lifting up. We strive to earn what He always intended to give.
I know what that feels like.
I grew up in church where everything I did was met with a warning: “You’re going to hell.” That became my understanding of God—one who was mostly watching to judge. When I was arrested after committing a horrible crime that ruined my life, I wondered where this strange hope I still had came from. Why was it even there?
After "surviving a 25" I couldn’t help but ask: Why me? Not just prison, but the streets, the depression, the addiction, the self-destruction—how did I make it through any of it? I figured there had to be a reason. Some kind of purpose. I started to believe that maybe this—this understanding, this message, this shift—was why.
I knew what striving felt like. Trying to make something happen. Trying to fill a void. But even when I reached what I thought I was chasing, the view from the mountaintop was just… meh.
It wasn’t until I started truly seeking God—seeking to understand His ways and walk His path—that I began to understand this thing called thriving. I saw that it’s tied to alignment.
It’s like what happened in Eden. The serpent told Eve, “You will be like God,” if she ate from the tree (Genesis 3:5). But she was already made in His image. That’s what I realized. I’d spent my life chasing what God had already given: identity, purpose, and belonging. I just needed to see it.
Jesus said, “Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” Too often we focus on the “all these things” part—what we hope to gain—rather than on the deeper invitation: to see the Kingdom, to learn His ways, to walk His path.
As the psalmist prayed, “Teach me Your ways, O Lord; show me Your paths.” That’s what it means to seek the Kingdom—to see the heart and rhythm of God. When we know His ways, striving stops. We stop chasing survival and start walking in the thriving He’s already prepared.
He has ordained it. He has always intended it.
Not just that we would live—but that we would thrive.
“I came that they might have life, and have it more abundantly.” (John 10:10)
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