There is a voice that whispers in the quiet of another birthday: it is too late, you missed your chance, time has run out. But in the economy of God, time is not your adversary. It is neutral, and He is its Restorer. He restores the years themselves, the one thing human ingenuity can never manufacture or recover.
Whatever season you feel you lost, God is not offering you empty poetry. He is a God of track record. What the locust ate, He restores.
My years are not lost. God is restoring what time and delay tried to take from me, starting today.
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