You Still Have a Reason to Praise

Life has a way of backing us into corners where praise feels impossible. The car won't start. The bank account is empty. The diagnosis is frightening. The relationship is fractured. In these moments, lifting our hands in worship seems absurd—even dishonest.

But what if the very presence of trials in our lives is actually evidence that we have something worth praising?

Consider this powerful truth: when you face a mountain, remember that God is the mountain maker.

Read that again slowly.

He doesn't just move mountains. He made them. If He created the obstacle, He certainly has the power to either remove it or give you the strength to climb it. The maker is the wind beneath your sails, the strength in your legs, the grip in your hands.

This changes everything about how we approach impossibility. We're not looking at immovable objects; we're looking at opportunities for the Creator to demonstrate His creative power in our circumstances.

Scripture reminds us repeatedly: "Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His mercy endures forever" (1 Chronicles 16:34, Psalm 107:1). This refrain appears throughout the Bible—not because God is repetitive, but because we are forgetful.

The word "forever" means something different to God than it does to us. We can't comprehend eternity. We struggle to picture next week clearly. But God's mercy operates on a timeline that has no end.

You will never outrun His mercy. You will never outlive His mercy. And here's the most scandalous truth: you will never out-sin His mercy. You could sin seventy times seven million times, and His mercy would still be waiting, still be sufficient, still be available.

That alone is reason to praise.

Romans 5:1 declares: "Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ."

Think about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. They were thrown into a furnace heated seven times hotter than normal—so hot it killed the soldiers who opened the door. Everyone knew they would die instantly.

But there was peace in the middle of the fire.

Not because the fire wasn't real. Not because it didn't hurt. But because the God who loved them was present with them in the flames.

You may not know what the coming year will bring. Somewhere in the next twelve months, you'll likely face a trial. But in the darkest hour, in the middle of the night when your mind races and fear threatens to overwhelm you—you have peace through your faith in Jesus Christ.

When the enemy throws every past mistake in your face, when your body feels strange and your thoughts spiral, you can claim the peace of a living Father. And in minutes, the storm inside can settle.

Hebrews 13:5 contains one of the most powerful promises in Scripture: "I will never leave you nor forsake you."

The enemy wants you to believe you need something more than what you have. If you drive an older vehicle and someone pulls up in a newer one, the whisper comes: "You need that." If your home is modest and you visit someone with more square footage, the thought arrives: "You deserve better."

But Jesus didn't come to earth to help you accumulate possessions. He didn't go to the cross so you could build a kingdom of stuff. He came so He could love you and intercede for you in the midst of your trials.

Whether your house is 5,000 square feet or 500, whether you drive a luxury vehicle or one that barely runs—Jesus is there. And when He is there, you have every reason in the world to give Him praise.

Second Corinthians tells us that when we place ourselves in Christ, we are acquitted of all our sins. He takes your sin and makes you sinless.

Colossians 2:14 describes it beautifully: He blots out "the handwriting of ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to us, and took it out of the way, nailing it to the cross."

If the devil torments you with things from your past, remember this: he's tormenting you with evidence that no longer exists. The old things have passed away. All things have become new.

Your mind may take you back to that place, but the sin isn't there anymore. It was nailed to a cross two thousand years ago.

When the trial comes—and it will come—find yourself somewhere with God. Turn on worship music. Sing an old hymn. Sit at an instrument if you play one. Begin to declare: "You deserve the glory and the honor. Lord, we lift our hands in worship as we praise Your holy name."

Remind yourself: "You are great. You do miracles so great. There is no one else like You."

Ask the question: "Who can satisfy my soul like You? Who on earth could comfort me and love me like You do?"

Like Daniel, who knew what was coming but went to his room, opened the windows, and knelt in prayer—just as he had done before—make praise your habit, not your exception.

We often find it hardest to praise in two places: in the heat of the trial and in the goodness of God. In suffering, praise feels impossible. In blessing, we forget we need to.

But the reason to praise never changes. It isn't based on circumstances. It's based on who God is and what He's done.

Your name is written in the Lamb's Book of Life. You have peace with God through Jesus Christ. He will never leave you. He intercedes for you. Your sins are blotted out. You are made new.

Amazing grace—how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like you and me. We once were lost, but now we're found. We were blind, but now we see.

When we've been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we'll have no less days to sing God's praise than when we first begun.

You have a reason to praise today. Not because everything is perfect, but because He is faithful. Not because the trial has ended, but because He's in the trial with you.

So, lift your voice. Lift your hands. Trade your sorrows for His joy.

You've got a reason to praise.