God is the master of the unexpected invasion.

He knows how to break through our defenses—our excuses, our arguments, our distractions. And He’ll use whatever tools necessary to do it. Personal crisis. Someone else’s suffering. Even a national disaster. Not because He wants to conquer us—but because He wants to free us.

We think we’re building walls to keep pain out.
But more often, those same walls keep Him out… and keep us trapped within.

When a Nation Shook, So Did a Prophet

When King Uzziah died, it marked the end of an era for Judah. It was a time of national grief and uncertainty. But in that moment, Isaiah didn’t just see political instability—he saw heaven.

“I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne…” (Isaiah 6:1)

He was reminded: God is still on the throne—even when everything around us feels like it’s falling apart.

Before Isaiah could be sent, before he could speak, before he could serve—he had to see.
Not just the condition of his nation.
But the condition of his own heart.

“Woe is me, for I am undone!” (Isaiah 6:5)

In the holiness of God’s presence, Isaiah was undone.
But he wasn’t rejected.
Instead, grace met him there.

A burning coal from the altar touched his lips—a symbol of cleansing, a sign of forgiveness.
Only then—after confession, after grace—could Isaiah say, “Here am I. Send me.”

Grace Before Mission

What strikes me most is this: In a time of national upheaval, God didn’t begin by giving Isaiah a list of what was wrong with the kings, the laws, or the culture.

He started with Isaiah’s own heart.

God didn’t commission Isaiah to rail against the sins of others until He had first helped Isaiah see his own sin clearly—and understand the depth of God’s grace even more.

Before Isaiah could speak for God, he had to be changed by God.

My Own “Woe Is Me” Moment

I relate to Isaiah’s story more than I used to.

For many years, I pointed at the sins of others. Before I knew Christ, I pointed at the hypocrisy of Christians. After I became one, I still pointed—just at different targets. People who did things differently. Believed differently. Struggled with sin that didn’t match my own.

I wasn’t harsh about it—not openly. But inwardly? There was a quiet, self-satisfied undertone of “Well, at least I’m not like that.”

But then a few years ago, God allowed me to come face-to-face with my own sin. Not just the surface-level struggles, but the deeper issues beneath—the pride, the fear, the judgment, the desperate need for grace.

Like Isaiah, I cried out, “Woe is me. I am undone.”

And like Isaiah, I was met not with rejection, but with grace.

Used Anyway

Now, I find myself struggling with a different question—not “Am I better than them?” but “Can God really use someone like me?”

And here’s what I’m learning:
It’s not about my worthiness.
It’s not about my perfection.
It’s about His grace.
His choice to show strength through weakness.
His ability to use the flawed and the failing for His glory.

A Call for Our Time

We live in a world that’s quick to point fingers.
We talk endlessly about hot-button issues—abortion, sexuality, politics—and yes, these things matter. But they are symptoms.
They point to a deeper need.

What this world needs most is not louder condemnation.
It needs the gospel of grace.

It needs people who love unconditionally.
Who speak kindness.
Who see themselves clearly and still choose compassion.
Who live with the awareness: “I was lost. I was broken. I was far off. And He welcomed me anyway.”

That’s the gospel.
That’s what our nation—and our world—desperately needs.

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“For as by one man’s disobedience many were made sinners,
so also by one Man’s obedience many will be made righteous…
Where sin abounded, grace abounded much more.”
— Romans 5:19–21

Grace abounds.
And that’s the only reason I can say:

I come broken to be mended
I come wounded to be healed
I come desperate to be rescued
I come empty to be filled
I come guilty to be pardoned
By the blood of Christ the Lamb
And I’m welcomed with open arms
Praise God, just as I am.