His Breath in Your Lungs

When was the last time you sat still and truly pondered the moment you came into existence? Not just your birth, but the precise instant you became you—the moment your life began in the mind and power of God. It might seem strange to consider, but there is something sacred and deeply miraculous about that moment. Because in that instant, the God of the universe—the One who formed galaxies and spoke light into being—He chose to breathe life into you.

Yes, that God. The One who measures the waters in the hollow of His hand and calls each star by name. That same holy and eternal Creator stooped down and intentionally gave breath to your lungs, just as He did with Adam in Genesis 2:7.

"Then the LORD God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature."

What kind of God does that? One who is not distant. One who is personal. One who finds joy in His creation. He didn’t randomly assemble your DNA or assign your features by accident. He planned every detail with purpose. Your eyes, your voice, your hair, your laugh—each one handcrafted by Him. And beyond the physical, He wove into you a personality, a unique soul that would experience the world in a way no one else ever has or will.

He gave you gifts, strengths, passions—all with a vision of how those could be used for His glory. Before you took your first breath, He saw your potential fully realized. He smiled over you. And then He did the unthinkable: He gave you His breath.

Think about that. The breath in your lungs right now traces back to that sacred moment. No wonder Scripture says we are fearfully and wonderfully made. No wonder the Psalmist declares in awe:

"I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well."

— Psalm 139:14

Even modern science can’t fully comprehend the miracle that is life. Doctors still marvel at the intricate systems that make up our bodies. And yet, we are so much more than biology. We are image-bearers. We are vessels of divine breath.

Have you ever watched that moment of conception—when sperm meets egg? There is a literal flash of light. Science calls it a zinc spark. I believe it's evidence of the divine hand of God igniting life. You, my friend, are a walking miracle. Check it out!

So if you haven’t stopped today to thank God for you—for your existence, your gifts, your very being—do that now. Praise Him. Worship Him. Because the Creator of all chose to make you, and He doesn’t make mistakes.

Your Death

Now that we’ve looked at the wonder of your beginning, let’s face the truth of your end.

Yes, your days are numbered.

Not to be morbid. Not to be depressing. But because Scripture reminds us again and again to number our days, to remember our mortality so that we live with wisdom.

"So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom."

— Psalm 90:12

The life you were given, the glory God intends to shine through you—it all comes with a timeline. You will not live forever here on earth. There is a finish line. And the knowledge of that truth should fuel you, not paralyze you. It should create a sense of holy urgency.

God created you for His glory. Every cell in your body, every gift He placed inside you, every part of your story—it's all been designed for the purpose of glorifying Him. But here’s the weighty part: He also appointed the number of your days.

So the question becomes: What will you do with the time you’ve been given?

Will you coast? Will you bury your talents and assume there’s more time later? Or will you live each day with the mindset: "God, how can I bring you glory today with all that I am?"

I once heard Pastor Fidelis put it this way:

"The graveyard is the richest place on earth."

Why? Because it’s full of unrealized potential. Sermons never preached. Songs never sung. Businesses never built. Books never written. Friendships never mended. Prayers never prayed. Dreams God gave—never pursued.

Let that not be said of us. Let us pour it all out. Let us die empty, having lived fully for the King.

This Place and Time

Acts 17:22-34

Read this passage slowly. Paul stands before the thinkers of Athens, people full of religion but empty of revelation. They worship what they do not know. And Paul boldly proclaims the true God—the One who doesn’t live in temples or need anything from us, but who gives life and breath and everything else.

And then he says this:

"He determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live."

Let that sink in.

God appointed the time in history you would live. He determined the place. It was not by chance that you were born in this generation, in this region, with the relationships and resources you have. Your gifts are custom-fit for this moment in history. The brokenness of your city, your family, your culture—it needs exactly what God placed in you.

So yes, this should feel like a weight. A calling. A commissioning.

You are not your own. You were bought with a price. And because of that, you’ve been placed here and now to bring the light of Christ into dark places. The question is: Will you?

Give an Account

II Corinthians 5:1-11

Paul reminds us that this life—this earthly tent we live in—is not forever. And we groan, don’t we? We feel the weight of sin, of struggle, of longing for something more. But the promise is this: One day, we will be clothed in immortality. We will trade this fragile shell for eternal glory.

And until then, we walk by faith.

But there is a moment coming that we must not overlook:

"For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil."

Let that settle.

Every decision. Every word. Every action. We will give an account.

Most people, when they hear this, immediately think of the bad—the sin, the compromise, the moments of failure. But pause again and remember: You will also give account for the good.

The early mornings spent in prayer when no one saw. The act of obedience when fear was loud. The encouraging word you gave when someone was about to give up. The sacrifices you made in secret. The times you obeyed God even when it cost you everything.

He sees it all. He remembers. And He will reward.

But Paul’s motivation wasn’t only personal. He says:

"Knowing the terror of the Lord, we persuade men."

He wasn’t afraid only for himself. He was burdened for others. He knew every person he met would also stand before God. He felt the weight of what it meant if he didn’t share, didn’t disciple, didn’t walk in obedience. He would give an account for the ones he was called to reach.

So ask yourself: Who has God placed in your path? Whose eternity are you supposed to impact? What will your account look like?

Final Question

At a men’s retreat, Mike Wemple asked this question. Sit with it. Reflect for a bit and really answer it with zeal.

If you could do anything to bring God the maximum glory—with no limitation of money, time, fear, or failure—what would you do?

Got it? Good. Now ask yourself:

What are you doing today to take a step toward that?

Because God doesn’t just give dreams. He gives assignments. He equips, He calls, and then He watches to see if we will move.

So take a step. And then another. Obey with what you have now. God will breathe on it. He will multiply it. He will bless it—for His glory.