Good morning, friends.

Today I want to talk about something that sometimes gets lost in the noise and complexity of faith: that God’s plan for Jesus—and for all of us—has always been there, working its way through history, even when we can’t see the whole picture.

If you’ve spent any time reading the Bible, you know it’s not a simple, tidy book. It’s a long, winding story, full of hard-to-understand moments, ancient poetry, strange laws, and unexpected hope. But if you step back and look at the whole arc—from Genesis all the way to Revelation—you start to see that there’s a plan at work. A plan that points, again and again, to Jesus.

Let’s start in the Old Testament. A lot of people think of the Old Testament as just a collection of old rules and stories, and sometimes, God there can seem fierce, even wrathful. There are floods and plagues and moments when God’s anger burns hot against people who go astray. But look a little closer, and you’ll see hints—sometimes whispers, sometimes shouts—that God is up to something much bigger.

Take the prophets, for example. Isaiah, hundreds of years before Jesus, wrote about a suffering servant who would bear the weight of humanity’s wrongs. In Isaiah 53, he says, “He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.” That’s not just poetry; that’s a glimpse of Jesus, long before He was born in Bethlehem.

All through the Old Testament, the story keeps circling back to this promise: that God will send someone to set things right, to heal what’s broken, to carry us back to Him. The sacrificial system—the whole idea of offering something to cover over sin—was, in a way, a preview of what Jesus would do once and for all. God’s plan was never just about rules; it was about relationship. About bringing people close, even when we mess up.

Now, some people look at those early stories and wonder: why was God so hard on humanity back then? Why all the rules, the consequences, the wrath? Maybe, in those early days, God was guiding and shaping a people who needed clear boundaries—like a parent teaching a child right from wrong. Maybe the world was rough and wild, and God’s discipline was meant to protect, to teach, to mold humanity into something more.

But even then, God was always moving toward mercy. The story keeps shifting. By the time we get to Jesus, we see something incredible: God steps into our story, not with thunder and lightning, but with love and sacrifice. Jesus is God’s answer to sin—not by demanding more from us, but by offering Himself for us.

Jesus doesn’t come to abolish the old story, but to fulfill it. He tells His followers, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.” Everything that came before was pointing to Him, preparing the way for a new kind of relationship between God and humanity.

Now, let’s be honest: the Bible as we have it today is, in some ways, incomplete. The books we read were chosen by councils and committees, by human hands—people with their own beliefs, their own agendas, their own blind spots. There are stories and teachings we don’t have, fragments lost to history, voices that maybe never made it into the official story. We’re reading a book that’s been pieced together, translated, and handed down through centuries of human history.

Does that mean we can’t trust it? I don’t think so. If anything, it means we approach it with a little more humility, a little more honesty. We remember that God has always worked through imperfect people—through flawed prophets, stubborn kings, doubting disciples. Maybe it’s just like our own lives: never quite whole, never perfectly clear, but filled with enough light to show us the way.

Even with all its gaps and mysteries, the Bible still points us to what matters most. It shows us a God who is patient, who keeps reaching out, who never gives up on humanity. A God who, in Jesus, is willing to take on our burdens, to walk with us, to forgive and restore. The story isn’t just about the past; it’s about now. God’s plan wasn’t just for ancient Israel or for some distant future. It’s here for us today.

So what do we do with all this? We remember that God’s plan has always been to draw us closer. That Jesus was not an afterthought, but the heart of the story all along—the answer to every longing, every question, every wound. We don’t have to have all the answers. We don’t have to be experts in ancient languages or church history. We just have to be open—to listen, to learn, to let the story shape us.

When you open your Bible—even if you don’t understand every word, even if you wonder about the pieces that are missing—remember this: the heart of the story is love. God’s love for you, God’s desire to set you free from the weight of sin, God’s willingness to meet you right where you are.

Maybe you feel like there are pieces missing in your own life, like your story is incomplete or confusing. That’s okay. God’s plan is still unfolding. The same God who worked through centuries of history, through imperfect people and patchwork scriptures, is working in you. Your story isn’t finished yet.

So let’s walk forward with hope. Let’s trust that even when we don’t see the whole picture, God does. That His plan—to bring us close, to heal us, to save us—was always there, and still is.

Let’s pray.

God, thank you for weaving your plan through history, for sending Jesus to bring us home. Help us to trust your story, even when we don’t have all the pieces. Remind us that your love is bigger than our questions, your mercy deeper than our doubts. Guide us as we keep learning, keep seeking, and keep following you. Amen.