2026 Sacred Whispers Blog

“He restores my soul.”

Psalm 23:3 (KJV)

There are some failures in life that leave a bruise so deep it feels as if it has fused into the very fabric of your identity. Failures that follow you into every room and replay themselves in the quiet moments of night. Failures that force you to confront the painful truth that you have hurt the very people you were supposed to protect. Nothing weighs on a man’s spirit quite like the realization that he has failed the people he loves most. And nothing humbles him more than the long, painful road of trying to rebuild what his own hands helped break.

I think often of a friend, good-hearted, generous, not a member of our church but dearly connected to my life, who walked that very road. His marriage bore the scars of repeated unfaithfulness and broken trust. His wife, a woman of deep worth and fierce loyalty, was consistently devastated by the emotional weight of his choices. His children, bright, strong, loving, each carried their own quiet wounds, navigating the instability and dysfunction that had settled into their home like an unwelcome tenant. Their journey went from arguments to emotional distance, from emotional distance to separation, and from separation to what looked like the permanent end of their marriage.

But something in him refused to surrender. He fought, slowly, humbly, consistently, for his family. He fought with tears, with prayer, with counseling sessions that dug deep into old wounds, with apologies that came without conditions or excuses, and with a repentance so steady that even his wife began to see a different man emerging. One of my favorite wisdom quotes says, “The true measure of a man is not found in his perfection, but in his willingness to rise after every fall.” I watched this man rise again, not in pride but in brokenness. Rise again, not in arrogance but in humility. Rise again, not to defend himself but to repair the hearts he wounded.

His journey reminded me of something Viktor Frankl once wrote: “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” That is the terrain this man walked. He could not change the past. He could not undo the damage. But he could change himself, and he did.

THE LONG ROAD BACK

I watched him walk into counseling week after week. I watched him sit with his pain rather than run from it. I watched him weep with a kind of sorrow that only comes from seeing the real cost of your choices. I watched him refuse to give up even when the process felt slow, uncertain, or entirely one-sided. And I watched something sacred happen in the midst of his repentance, his wife began to see not only the remorse of a man who failed her, but the resilience of a man who desperately wanted to love her well.

Reconciliation did not come swiftly. It unfolded like dawn breaking over a long night, gradually, softly, almost imperceptibly. But one day, the sun did rise. God breathed on the work being done in their home. He did what only God can do, He restored.

I will never forget the day I stood before them, not as a distant observer but as a friend, and officiated the renewal of their vows. As they stood face to face, eyes wet with tears, I witnessed the miracle of a restored union. A marriage once fractured was now whole. A home once filled with brokenness was now in the process of being rebuilt on forgiveness and grace. And the man standing there, the man who had wandered so far from himself, had rediscovered something deeper than reconciliation… he had rediscovered his soul.

THE PSALM 23 REALITY OF RESTORATION

This is the sacred heart of Psalm 23:3: “He restores my soul.” David isn’t speaking in poetic generalities. He is describing the God who steps into the inner world of a broken man and leads him back to life. In the verses surrounding this declaration, David portrays God as the Shepherd who makes us lie down when we would rather keep running, who leads us beside still waters when our thoughts are in turmoil, and who guides us in right paths when we have chosen wrong ones.

The phrase “He restores my soul” in Hebrew speaks of bringing a life back from collapse, rescuing, returning, repairing, reviving. This is not casual spiritual improvement; this is resurrection work. David is saying, “God puts me back together when I fall apart.” And for men who have wrecked something precious, marriages, families, trust, this is the only path toward joy: not the restoration of reputation, but the restoration of the soul.

THE THEOLOGY OF FIGHTING FOR JOY

You cannot talk about joy without talking about endurance. Joy is not passive, joy must be pursued. Joy is not cheap, it is fought for. Joy is not instant, it is formed over time. It does not belong to the complacent; it belongs to the courageous. Joy does not bloom in the absence of pain; it blooms in spite of it. In Romans 5:3-5, we are reminded that “we glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint...” Joy becomes the harvest that grows from the soil of perseverance, repentance, discipline, righteousness, and relentless hope in God.

It is important to understand this one simple truth: joy does not come from the knowledge of having done everything right, joy comes from the mercy we receive after we’ve done many things wrong. Joy becomes the miracle of God, taking a man beyond his failures. This is nowhere better illustrated than from King David’s own words in Psalm 51:8 when he says, “Make me hear joy and gladness, that the bones You have broken may rejoice.” Then in verse 12 he prays this prayer, “Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, and uphold me by Your generous Spirit”. This kind of joy is the quiet song that rises after the chastisement has passed, and it is the evidence that restoration from failure is real. Ultimately, joy is what happens when God does for us what we could never do for ourselves.

JOY AS A LONG OBEDIENCE

Joy, for a man coming back from failure, is rarely immediate. It is a long obedience in the same direction. It is found in showing up when it’s hard, in doing the work when no one is applauding, in rebuilding the trust you once tore down. Joy rises slowly, like dawn creeping into a darkened room. It does not deny the past; it redeems it. It does not erase the wounds; it transforms them. It does not promise perfection; it promises presence.

And the man in this story found joy, not because everything suddenly became easy, but because he endured the fight long enough for God to finish the work inside him. His joy came through sweat, tears, counseling sessions, confessions, and courageous vulnerability. It came from the slow rebuilding of trust, the reawakening of hope, and the rediscovery of himself as a beloved son of God. Joy came because he fought, and God restored.

PRAYER

Lord, thank You for being the God who restores what sin breaks, what pain shatters, and what shame buries. Thank You for meeting us in our lowest places with the promise of new beginnings. Give strength to every person fighting their way back from failure. Give grace to every heart trying to rebuild trust. And let joy rise in us again, not because everything is perfect, but because You are making all things new. In Jesus’ name, amen.

SPIRITUAL DISCIPLINE: TAKE ONE STEP TOWARD REDEMPTION

Today, reflect on one relationship or area in your life where failure is still echoing. Then take one step, however small, toward redemption.

• Send the apology.
• Schedule the counseling session.
• Start the hard conversation.
• Ask God to restore your soul.

Joy grows when obedience begins. And sometimes the smallest step becomes the doorway to a restored life.