Column: If you’re not dead, God’s not done

All this time, and a lot of you don’t know, I had been listening to his messages, but this one line—this one truth—really stuck.

I’ve been following Steven Furtick since the COVID-19 pandemic hit. I stumbled upon his sermons on YouTube, as many of us did back then—looking for something to hold on to when everything around us seemed to be in chaos. Over the years, his words have spoken to me in ways I didn’t expect, but last night, something stopped me in my tracks.

Here’s something I’ve never said out loud in a column before: It’s been years since I last set foot in a church. I honestly can’t even remember the last time I walked through the doors. But I’ve never stopped believing. I’ve always had faith. I’ve never considered myself a religious woman. I have faith, yes—but not the kind that always looks good in church photos. I was baptized as a Catholic. Years later, I was baptized again as a born-again Christian, thinking that maybe that second plunge would bring me closer to God, like flicking a switch that turns on belief.

But that’s not how faith works.

What I’ve come to understand is this: it’s not about where you worship. It’s about who you worship—and why. Jesus said the same when He met a woman at a well in Samaria. She was an outsider. A woman with a questionable past. She had five husbands and was living with a man who wasn’t hers. She wasn’t just a sinner; she was an outcast. People avoided her. She came to the well at noon, in the scorching heat, just to avoid being seen. But Jesus saw her anyway.

And more than that—He chose her. He told her, not the priests or the Pharisees, her, that He was the Messiah.

That scene hit differently when I watched The Chosen, a show that has completely altered how I see the people in the Bible. They weren’t polished. They weren’t perfect. They were raw, wounded, impulsive, insecure—just like us. And still, God moved through them.

Mary Magdalene had demons—literally. For years, she was tormented by them. She wanted to die. But Jesus called her by name, and everything changed. He didn’t wait until she had her life together. He didn’t ask her to clean herself up first. He just said, “You are mine.”

Peter was impulsive and proud. He followed Jesus, yes, but when his wife had a miscarriage while he was away on mission, he questioned everything. How could God allow this to happen while he was doing what was right? That’s a pain many of us understand—when doing the “right thing” doesn’t guarantee a happy ending.

He doubted. Just like we do.

And still, Jesus said, “Come.” Even when Peter began to sink, Jesus reached out and reminded him: you can walk on water if you believe.

Even the disciples—eyewitnesses to miracles—were tested. Their stories remind us that faith is not the absence of struggle. It’s what carries us through it. People think believing means having it all together. But real faith is showing up anyway—mess and all.

So yes, you will be doubted. Not just by people, but by life. There will be setbacks. You’ll question your calling. You’ll wonder if you’re worthy. You’ll want to quit.

But you don’t get to quit—not until God says it’s over. And He hasn’t.

I’ve come to believe that your pain doesn’t cancel your purpose. Your failure doesn’t forfeit your future. And no matter how far you think you’ve strayed, grace always finds a way back.

You’re not forgotten. You’re not disqualified. You’re not beyond repair.

You’re just in the middle of your miracle.

And if you’re reading this—if you’re still breathing—then God’s not done with you yet.

So when the world tells you to give up, or when your own voice gets too loud, I hope you’ll remember this:

Jesus chose the woman at the well.

Jesus called Peter back.

Jesus freed Mary Magdalene.

And Jesus isn’t finished with you.

Because if you’re not dead, God’s not done.

So keep going. Keep walking. You’re still the story He’s telling.