Faith That Finds Forgiveness

Joshua 20:1–9 KJV 1900

1 The Lord also spake unto Joshua, saying, 2 Speak to the children of Israel, saying, Appoint out for you cities of refuge, whereof I spake unto you by the hand of Moses: 3 That the slayer that killeth any person unawares and unwittingly may flee thither: and they shall be your refuge from the avenger of blood. 4 And when he that doth flee unto one of those cities shall stand at the entering of the gate of the city, and shall declare his cause in the ears of the elders of that city, they shall take him into the city unto them, and give him a place, that he may dwell among them. 5 And if the avenger of blood pursue after him, then they shall not deliver the slayer up into his hand; because he smote his neighbour unwittingly, and hated him not beforetime. 6 And he shall dwell in that city, until he stand before the congregation for judgment, and until the death of the high priest that shall be in those days: then shall the slayer return, and come unto his own city, and unto his own house, unto the city from whence he fled. 7 And they appointed Kedesh in Galilee in mount Naphtali, and Shechem in mount Ephraim, and Kirjath-arba, which is Hebron, in the mountain of Judah. 8 And on the other side Jordan by Jericho eastward, they assigned Bezer in the wilderness upon the plain out of the tribe of Reuben, and Ramoth in Gilead out of the tribe of Gad, and Golan in Bashan out of the tribe of Manasseh. 9 These were the cities appointed for all the children of Israel, and for the stranger that sojourneth among them, that whosoever killeth any person at unawares might flee thither, and not die by the hand of the avenger of blood, until he stood before the congregation.

Sermon Abstract: Joshua 20:1–9 reveals God's merciful design for the cities of refuge, where those guilty of accidental wrongdoing could find shelter, safety, and a second chance. This passage calls believers to exercise courageous faith by trusting in God’s provision of mercy, submitting to His process for justice, and embracing His gospel promise of ultimate forgiveness. In a world where guilt often lingers and grace seems out of reach, this message reminds us that faith for forgiveness begins with fleeing to the only true refuge—Jesus Christ, our eternal high priest and redeemer.

Introduction:

There’s a story, with an all too familiar scenario. A teenager named Marcus was headed home from a friend’s house. No alcohol. No drugs. Just tired eyes and a distracted mind. A child chasing a ball ran into the street. And in a moment that would forever change two families, the impact took that child’s life.

Marcus was not a criminal or careless. But it did not matter. Though the law declared it an accident, his soul carried the weight of a conviction he couldn’t shake. Whispers walked behind him through town. Shame shadowed him through school. Even the silence in his own home grew heavy. He did not need punishment, he needed peace. He didn’t need hiding, he needed healing. And what he longed for most… was forgiveness.

Now friends, that story may not be your story, but if you have ever made a mistake, if you have ever hurt someone unintentionally, if you have ever said the wrong thing, done the wrong thing, reacted the wrong way, then you know what it feels like to need a refuge. You know what it feels like to want to run but have nowhere safe to land.

That’s why Joshua 20 is not just a legal formality buried in the Old Testament. It is a divine declaration that forgiveness is possible, and refuge is real. It is God’s way of saying to His covenant people: “I see your failure—but I will not forsake your future.”

In this passage, God instructs Joshua to designate six cities of refuge—strategically located, easily accessible, and permanently available. These cities were not for murderers on the run—but for people who had committed accidental manslaughter. They had done real damage, but without intent. And God, in His sovereign grace, makes room for mercy.

Now let’s be clear; this was not a loophole in the law. This was not soft-on-sin theology. No, this was divine mercy balanced with divine order. The cities of refuge were God’s way of protecting both the victim’s family and the one who caused the pain. It was justice that included compassion, law wrapped in love, truth guided by grace.

And let me say this plainly: our God is still building cities of refuge. You will not find them on a map, but you will find them in the mercy of Jesus Christ. You will find them at the altar. You will find them in the blood that was shed at Calvary. The God who made room for the guilty in Joshua’s day is the same God who makes room for you today.

Because let’s tell the truth—we all need forgiveness. We’ve all made a mess of something. We’ve all hurt people unintentionally, or even intentionally, when anger got the best of us. We’ve all said things that cut deep, or left things unsaid that could have healed wounds. From the teenager with regrets, to the young adult who ran too far, to the senior saint who wishes they had raised their children differently, it does not matter your age or stage. Guilt is universal. But praise God, so is grace.

Joshua 20 reminds us that faith is not just for fighting giants—it’s also for facing guilt. Sometimes, courageous faith doesn’t look like raising a sword; it looks like raising your hand and saying, “I need help. I need healing. I need a place to run.”

And the good news is: God has made a place for you.

“Grace doesn’t ignore guilt—it invites it in and offers it a home.” “God’s mercy is not a denial of justice—it’s a delay for redemption.” “You don’t have to be perfect to be protected—you just have to come by faith.”

So today, as we look at these ancient cities, we’re not just studying geography, we’re encountering theology. We are not just exploring law, we’re stepping into grace. And by the end of this message, I believe somebody will run to the only true refuge that still stands: Jesus Christ, our High Priest, our Advocate, and our Forgiver.

Let’s walk through this text together. Let’s discover what it means to have Faith for Forgiveness.

I. Trust God’s Provision

Joshua 20:1–3 (KJV): “The LORD also spake unto Joshua, saying, Speak to the children of Israel, saying, Appoint out for you cities of refuge, whereof I spake unto you by the hand of Moses: That the slayer that killeth any person unawares and unwittingly may flee thither: and they shall be your refuge from the avenger of blood.”

There is something stunning, even sacred, in the opening words of this chapter: “The LORD also spake unto Joshua.”After the long campaigns, the military victories, the tribal inheritances, and the boundary lines drawn, God still speaks. Divine instruction does not cease once possession is secured. Even in the land of promise, direction from heaven continues. Because the presence of blessing does not eliminate the need for order. And the experience of grace does not dismiss the necessity of justice.

Here in Joshua 20, God reintroduces what had been spoken long ago to Moses. The idea of cities of refuge wasn’t a new concept—it was a fulfilled promise. Back in Numbers 35 and Deuteronomy 19, the Lord laid out the blueprint. Now, in the calm after conquest, He calls for construction—not of weapons or walls, but of refuge. Because even in a victorious land, there will be failures. Even among God’s chosen, there will be unintended wrongs. And even in a nation governed by law, there must be space for mercy.

What a vision of the heart of God. While others may rush to condemn, the Lord prepares a place to cover. While the blood of the innocent cries from the ground, the grace of the Sovereign makes a way for restoration. There is no glossing over the tragedy. Someone has died. A life has been lost. Yet even in that moment, God provides a path that guards against vengeance and creates a corridor for justice guided by compassion.

This is not leniency—it is divine provision. It is not God lowering the standard—it is God lifting up the possibility of mercy in a fallen world. The cities of refuge were not random—they were sovereignly selected. Positioned with purpose. Spread evenly across the land. Always within reach. Each one a sanctuary in a system that would otherwise demand swift retribution.

God, in His wisdom, speaks to Joshua and tells him to “appoint out” the cities. The same God who orchestrated military victories and land distribution now orchestrates safe spaces for the hurting, the hunted, and the humbled. Because in the Kingdom of God, victory and vulnerability must coexist.

There is a theology embedded here—one that cannot be ignored. It is the theology of preventative mercy. God made provision before the crisis came. The cities of refuge were not reactive—they were proactive. Before the first accidental death occurred in Canaan, the cities were being mapped out. Before the first breathless panic of the accused, God had already spoken to Joshua to prepare a place.

And such is the pattern of grace: God always provides before people realize what they need. Before sin entered the garden, a Lamb was already slain in eternity. Before Peter ever denied Jesus, the Savior had already prayed for his restoration. Before Saul ever persecuted the Church, the Lord had already appointed him as a preacher to the Gentiles. Grace is not a divine afterthought—it is a pre-existing strategy from a God who sees all and prepares accordingly.

These verses open up the first movement of our message with a resounding reminder: Forgiveness is not earned; it is prepared. It is not discovered; it is declared. God provides a refuge not because the people deserve it—but because His nature demands it. Forgiveness is not soft—it is sacred. It is God saying, “Yes, justice will be served—but mercy will not be silenced.”

“Mercy is not the enemy of justice—it is its companion in the courtroom of grace.” “What the law permits, grace prepares.” “Before guilt ever cries out, God has already carved out a place to respond.”

There is no accident too great that it falls outside the shadow of divine provision. The cities of refuge are living metaphors of the Gospel—an eternal witness that in a world filled with sin’s consequences, there is still a path to safety. The slayer was not innocent—but he was not abandoned. He could not undo what had happened—but he could run toward what had been provided. And that run, that faith-filled flight, was an act of belief that God had made a way when there seemed to be none.

So the text teaches not merely to acknowledge the provision—but to trust it. To believe that refuge exists even when the soul is restless. To trust that God’s mercy can meet guilt in motion. That forgiveness is not mythical or mystical—it is mapped out in God’s Word and available to all who seek it with honesty, humility, and holy fear.

. Trust God’s Provision

Text – Joshua 20:1–3 (KJV):

“The LORD also spake unto Joshua, saying, Speak to the children of Israel, saying, Appoint out for you cities of refuge, whereof I spake unto you by the hand of Moses: That the slayer that killeth any person unawares and unwittingly may flee thither: and they shall be your refuge from the avenger of blood.”

A. Sovereign Selection (Joshua 20:1–2)

The chapter begins not with the strategy of men, but with the sovereign voice of God. “The LORD also spake unto Joshua…” That one line reminds every student of Scripture that no matter how far Israel had come, no matter how many victories had been secured, the people still needed divine instruction. Possessing the land did not remove their dependence on divine leadership. Progress never replaces the need for God’s voice.

And what does God say? He doesn’t direct Joshua to organize another military campaign or redraw the borders of the tribes. No—He speaks of mercy. He commands the appointment of cities of refuge, which He had already outlined through Moses in Numbers 35 and Deuteronomy 19. This was not a new idea; it was a fulfilled promise. The blueprint was already in place—now came the time to build.

The selection of these cities was not haphazard or political. It was holy. These locations were chosen, not by convenience or cultural influence, but by divine initiative. God Himself directed the places where grace would be found. This is the heart of sovereign provision—God makes the first move in mercy. He does not wait for people to cry out before preparing the place. Before the first unintentional death occurred, the cities were appointed. Before the first slayer panicked and fled, the gates were already destined to open.

This reminds the hearer that mercy is not reactionary—it is redemptive. God makes arrangements for restoration before the fall even happens. This is the pattern of the Gospel. Before Adam sinned, the Lamb was slain in the mind of God (Revelation 13:8). Before Peter denied Christ, Jesus had already prayed for his return (Luke 22:32). Before Paul persecuted the church, the Lord had already chosen him to preach the Gospel (Acts 9:15).

“God is not surprised by human failure—He’s already supplied the pathway to forgiveness.”

“Mercy is never an afterthought in God’s plan—it is always at the center.”

This is what is seen in verses 1 and 2—a sovereign selection of mercy-locations. They were not to be built on emotion, but on instruction. They were not created because of public outcry, but because of divine foresight. God provides, not because people ask—but because grace is who He is.

B. Strategic Safety (Joshua 20:3)

Joshua 20:3 KJV 1900

3 That the slayer that killeth any person unawares and unwittingly may flee thither: and they shall be your refuge from the avenger of blood.

In verse 3, the Lord defines the purpose of the cities:

“That the slayer that killeth any person unawares and unwittingly may flee thither: and they shall be your refuge from the avenger of blood.”

Here, the strategy of grace is unveiled. These cities were not built for criminals trying to escape justice. They were not shelters for the wicked, but sanctuaries for the unintentional offender. The law made a distinction between murder and manslaughter. The cities of refuge were built for the latter—for those who caused harm, but did not harbor hate. They were guilty, yes—but not malicious. And yet, even accidental bloodshed triggered consequences. The “avenger of blood,” often a close relative of the deceased, could lawfully pursue the slayer in an attempt to preserve family honor.

But God stepped in. He created a system that balanced justice with compassion. These cities were places where the slayer could flee—not to avoid accountability, but to await judgment in safety. Refuge was not about avoiding the truth—it was about making space for truth to be rightly heard. The accused could live, not because of innocence, but because of divine intention.

This is what makes the cities strategic—they protected the community from lawlessness and vigilante justice, while also preserving the dignity of the one who caused the harm. And in this system, a spiritual truth emerges: God builds protection for those who run toward Him in humility. Refuge was not forced—it was fled to. Safety was not imposed—it was received by faith.

And so, verse 3 points the modern heart to the greater spiritual city—Jesus Christ. He is the strong tower into which the righteous run and are safe (Proverbs 18:10). He is the shelter from the storm, the hiding place in the time of trouble (Psalm 32:7). And just like the cities of old, He is near, accessible, open, and holy.

“Refuge is not the absence of consequences—it is the presence of grace in the midst of them.”

“God’s safety doesn’t erase the past—it preserves the future.”

“When the guilty run to God, they don’t find rejection—they find refuge.”

So the strategic safety of verse 3 reminds the Church of all generations that God always provides a place where mercy and truth meet, where righteousness and peace kiss (Psalm 85:10). The slayer fled. The city opened. And the soul lived.

That’s God’s provision. And it can be trusted.

II. Submit to God’s Process

Joshua 20:4–6 KJV 1900

4 And when he that doth flee unto one of those cities shall stand at the entering of the gate of the city, and shall declare his cause in the ears of the elders of that city, they shall take him into the city unto them, and give him a place, that he may dwell among them. 5 And if the avenger of blood pursue after him, then they shall not deliver the slayer up into his hand; because he smote his neighbour unwittingly, and hated him not beforetime. 6 And he shall dwell in that city, until he stand before the congregation for judgment, and until the death of the high priest that shall be in those days: then shall the slayer return, and come unto his own city, and unto his own house, unto the city from whence he fled.

A. Lawful Listening (Joshua 20:4–5)

Joshua 20:4–5 KJV 1900

4 And when he that doth flee unto one of those cities shall stand at the entering of the gate of the city, and shall declare his cause in the ears of the elders of that city, they shall take him into the city unto them, and give him a place, that he may dwell among them. 5 And if the avenger of blood pursue after him, then they shall not deliver the slayer up into his hand; because he smote his neighbour unwittingly, and hated him not beforetime.

There is something sacred in the way the slayer is received. He does not simply burst through the gates in a panic, nor is he presumed guilty without recourse. He stands. He speaks. And he is heard. The elders meet him at the gate—not with swords, but with ears. The first step of refuge is not safety—it is testimony.

This moment at the gate affirms something often overlooked in today’s world: God is deeply concerned with how justice is carried out. Not only does He provide a place for mercy, but He also prescribes a process for discernment. The cities of refuge were not hiding places—they were hearing places. And the elders at the gate functioned as spiritual and communal gatekeepers, responsible for listening carefully, judging rightly, and sheltering graciously.

These verses confront a culture quick to cancel, swift to assume, and allergic to nuance. In God’s system, there is no room for mob rule. There is no space for street justice. The avenger of blood could not act on emotion or instinct. He had to submit to the system God established—a system that began with listening.

And what a ministry that is—the ministry of lawful listening. These elders model what too many neglect: justice begins by making room for the whole story. It is easy to throw stones from a distance. It is harder to sit still and hear the weight of what someone has carried.

“Mercy begins at the gate, but it cannot enter until truth is spoken.”

“Refuge without responsibility becomes chaos; but responsibility without compassion becomes cruelty.”

The elders listen, and if the testimony reveals that the act was unintentional and without premeditated hatred, then the accused is granted a place to stay. Not just a room—but a right. Not just protection—but provision. Because when God opens the door, He doesn’t just let the broken in—He brings them close.

And let it not be missed: when the avenger comes knocking, the elders refuse to surrender the man. The community stands between the slayer and vengeance—not because he is guiltless, but because he is covered. There’s something here that mirrors the Gospel. The one who fled to the city is not protected because of personal merit, but because of God’s appointed method of mercy.

So then, the process begins with lawful listening—a sacred pause where truth is told, discernment is applied, and justice walks hand-in-hand with compassion. It is the divine reminder that mercy must be both responsible and righteous.

B. Lasting Lodging (Joshua 20:6)

Joshua 20:6 KJV 1900

6 And he shall dwell in that city, until he stand before the congregation for judgment, and until the death of the high priest that shall be in those days: then shall the slayer return, and come unto his own city, and unto his own house, unto the city from whence he fled.

Now the scene shifts from the gate to the dwelling. Once the man is admitted into the city, his stay is not brief. Verse 6 says: “He shall dwell in that city… until he stand before the congregation for judgment, and until the death of the high priest…”

This isn’t a hotel stay—it’s a holding season. The one who seeks refuge doesn’t just run in and run out. He abides. He remains. He settles into a process that involves time, truth, and tension. Because real forgiveness is not just a moment of escape—it’s a journey of accountability.

The man must live there—cut off from his land, separated from his home, surrounded by unfamiliar people. And he must wait. Wait for judgment. Wait for the high priest’s death. Wait for God’s timing to release him back into full freedom.

This process, though frustrating to the impatient, is deeply theological. The presence of the high priest represented the spiritual covering of the people. His life, in essence, stood in the gap between wrath and reconciliation. And when the high priest died, the slayer could return home—no longer under threat, no longer under suspicion, no longer looking over his shoulder.

Does it sound familiar? It should.

Because in the economy of the Gospel, forgiveness flows through the death of a High Priest.

And the good news of the New Covenant is that Jesus, our Great High Priest, has died once and for all—making refuge permanent, judgment satisfied, and release available to all who run to Him in faith.

There’s also a practical wisdom here: some restoration takes time. Some healing requires a season of stillness. God’s process includes pausing, learning, growing, and enduring until the right time comes. There is no shortcut to restoration. There is no instant righteousness. Forgiveness is free—but sanctification is slow.

That is why the process matters. And that is why submitting to the process is an act of faith. Because waiting in God’s city is better than wandering outside of it. Trusting God’s system is wiser than leaning on human vengeance. And holding on through the season is better than walking away in impatience.

“Forgiveness without formation is fragile.”

“Some protection can only be enjoyed by those willing to endure the process.”

“The process is not punishment—it is preparation.”

So the text teaches: the process of refuge involves standing, speaking, staying, and submitting. And for all its difficulty, there is beauty in the boundaries. The soul that submits to God’s process may carry grief, but it will also discover grace.

III. Embrace God’s Promise

Text – Joshua 20:7–9 (KJV): “And they appointed Kedesh in Galilee in mount Naphtali, and Shechem in mount Ephraim, and Kirjatharba, which is Hebron, in the mountain of Judah. And on the other side Jordan by Jericho eastward, they assigned Bezer in the wilderness upon the plain out of the tribe of Reuben, and Ramoth in Gilead out of the tribe of Gad, and Golan in Bashan out of the tribe of Manasseh. These were the cities appointed for all the children of Israel, and for the stranger that sojourneth among them, that whosoever killeth any person at unawares might flee thither, and not die by the hand of the avenger of blood, until he stood before the congregation.”

A. Ready Refuge (Joshua 20:7–8)

Joshua 20:7–8 KJV 1900

7 And they appointed Kedesh in Galilee in mount Naphtali, and Shechem in mount Ephraim, and Kirjath-arba, which is Hebron, in the mountain of Judah. 8 And on the other side Jordan by Jericho eastward, they assigned Bezer in the wilderness upon the plain out of the tribe of Reuben, and Ramoth in Gilead out of the tribe of Gad, and Golan in Bashan out of the tribe of Manasseh.

The list in verses 7 and 8 may appear, at first glance, to be a simple geographical record—mere ancient cartography. But beneath the surface, these verses shimmer with gospel intention. For in naming these six cities, the Spirit of God reveals not just where refuge could be found, but how accessible and available that refuge truly was.

Three cities west of the Jordan. Three cities east. Strategically placed—spread out with intentionality. Positioned so that no tribe, no family, no individual was too far from a place of mercy. According to Jewish tradition, roads were maintained leading to each city. Signs were posted clearly: “Refuge!” Arrows pointing the way. Obstacles removed. Bridges built. The path made plain.

This is not coincidental—it is covenantal. Because when God provides a promise, He ensures that the path to it is reachable.

“Mercy was not meant to be hidden—it was meant to be highlighted.”

Every direction one turned—north, south, east, west—refuge was within reach. The message of this map is unmistakable: forgiveness is not far. Grace is not locked behind elite gates. Hope is not reserved for the holiest. God made sure that the way to mercy was close, clear, and carved into the landscape of everyday life.

Even more, the names of the cities themselves carry gospel shadows:

Kedesh means holy

Shechem means shoulder (burden bearer)

Hebron means fellowship

Bezer means stronghold

Ramoth means exalted

Golan means joy

These were not just cities of escape—they were signs pointing forward. They anticipated the One who would come to bear burdens, restore joy, provide holy fellowship, and exalt the broken by the strength of His grace. Each city was a sermon in stone—preaching of a greater refuge to come.

And so, in verses 7 and 8, there is a call to embrace the promise of availability. The God who made the promise made sure it could be reached. The soul that flees to Him will never be turned away, and the sinner that runs does not run in vain. The promise is not just declared—it is delivered in a form that is practical, portable, and permanent.

B. Redemptive Representation (Joshua 20:9)

The final verse of the chapter offers more than a summary—it offers a sweeping theological insight: “These were the cities appointed for all the children of Israel, and for the stranger that sojourneth among them…”

Here is the heart of God made plain. The cities of refuge were not just for insiders. Not just for those born into the covenant. Not just for the ones who carried Abraham’s bloodline. Even the foreigner—the stranger, the outsider, the one with no pedigree—could flee to the refuge and live.

This is the gospel in Old Testament clothing. This is redemptive representation. The grace of God refuses to be reduced to one ethnicity, one lineage, one class, or one culture. The mercy of God is expansive. The cross was foreshadowed here in Joshua—not just as a place of atonement, but as a universal invitation to anyone bold enough to run toward it by faith.

And the text is careful to say: “that whosoever killeth any person at unawares might flee thither…” Whosoever. That word ought to stir something in the spirit. It echoes forward through time until it lands in John 3:16: “That whosoever believeth in him should not perish…” This is the scope of God’s saving mercy.

The cities were not reserved—they were revealed. Not restricted—they were extended. Not cultural commodities—they were covenant declarations. They were shadows of Christ, who would become the true and better refuge, the unshakable city of grace, the High Priest and the shelter all in one.

“In Jesus, the door to refuge does not close—it swings open on the hinges of grace.” “The cross is not a monument to exclusion—it is a megaphone of mercy shouting ‘whosoever will.’” “Redemption was never meant to be tribal—it was always designed to be global.”

So here, at the end of this passage, God reaffirms His promise: Refuge is for the guilty. Mercy is for the honest. Safety is for the one who runs in faith. And that promise, though ancient, still echoes today.

Transition to Closing

The cities may no longer be standing, but the Savior still is. And while the map may have changed, the message has not. There is a place for the wounded. There is a shelter for the weary. There is a refuge for the guilty. But only those who run in faith will find the safety they seek.

So then—embrace the promise. Not just the idea of forgiveness, but the reality of it. Not just the memory of grace, but the movement toward it. Because God did not just build cities—He built a covenant. And in Christ, He fulfilled them all.

The Word of God has taken us through the gates of grace, into the arms of mercy, and beneath the shadow of divine provision. We’ve seen how the Lord provided cities of refuge—places of safety for people in crisis, sanctuaries for those who stumbled, shelters for the souls who didn’t mean to cause the harm they did.

We’ve learned to:

Trust God’s Provision—because He thought of mercy before we ever needed it.

Submit to God’s Process—because real healing requires us to stay, listen, and grow.

Embrace God’s Promise—because forgiveness is not reserved for the elite; it is extended to the whosoever will.

And if all of that feels ancient, far removed from today’s world—let this final story bring it close.

Closing Illustration: The Wrong Turn

Years ago, in a rural part of the South, a man named Thomas was convicted of vehicular manslaughter. One rainy night, he missed a stop sign at an unfamiliar intersection, struck another car, and killed a father of two. It was accidental—but it was irreversible.

He served his time. He did his best to move forward. But the guilt never left. The burden stayed. Every morning, he looked in the mirror and still saw the headline from the news clip: “Man Takes Innocent Life.”

One Sunday, years after his release, Thomas wandered into a small country church. He didn’t go for the sermon—he went to hide. But when the pastor preached about refuge, Thomas wept uncontrollably. The message felt like it had his name on it. That day, for the first time, he opened his heart to Christ. Not because his past had changed—but because he had finally found a Savior who could carry it.

A year later, at the very same church, that man stood to share his testimony. And sitting on the front row that day, with tears in her eyes, was the widow of the man he had accidentally killed. She stood to her feet and said one sentence that silenced the room:

“If God can forgive him, so can I.”

And just like that, refuge became reality. Forgiveness wasn’t just a doctrine—it was a miracle happening in real time.

Beloved, this is what courageous faith really looks like. Not just the kind that stands in the face of giants, but the kind that kneels in the presence of guilt. Not just the kind that shouts in victory, but the kind that whispers, “Lord, I need mercy.”

Because every person has something they didn’t mean to do. Some wound they didn’t plan to cause. Some harm they didn’t know would go that far. And the enemy of our souls loves to keep that guilt fresh—keeps whispering, “You can’t be free. You don’t deserve it. You’re too far gone.”

But the devil is a liar.

There is a city of refuge whose gates are still open. There is a High Priest who still covers. There is a cross on a hill where blood still speaks.

“Grace doesn’t lower the standard—it lifts the soul.” “Mercy doesn’t erase the truth—it outlasts the shame.” “Forgiveness doesn’t rewrite the past—it redeems the person.”

And the good news of the gospel is this: Jesus is the greater refuge. Jesus is the truer city. Jesus is the final High Priest. And in Him, the guilty can run… and live.

So today, do not walk in shame. Do not die in silence. Run to the refuge. Rest in the promise. Receive the forgiveness.

Because faith for forgiveness isn’t just a message—it’s an invitation. And the gate… is still open.