Restored Again - 2 Peter 1:4

Restored Again:

 

A Story of Promise and Perseverance”

Scripture Focus:

 “Whereby are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises: that by these ye might be partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust, 2 Peter 1:4 (KJV)

Part 1 – The First Restoration

I came by them nearly in pieces—a wooden swan and an old arched window planter, each so broken and weathered that my husband gently suggested the trash. But I couldn’t. I saw what they could be. After hours of care and creativity, sanding and sealing, they stood beautiful redeemed from ruin. 

This is what God does for us. When we are born again, He does not patch us up—He saves us anew*, giving us new hearts and new purpose through His precious promises. What once was ruined becomes a vessel of beauty and grace.

Part 2 – Weathered by the World

But life happened. They were left outside through snow and storm, and without daily care, they darkened with mildew, weakened again, their edges splitting apart. I was heartbroken—they had been brand new. Had all the work been for nothing?

And isn’t that how it can be for believers too? Though our salvation is secure, if we do not build on our most holy faith, the corrosion of this world seeps in. Without intentional growth—through prayer, Scripture, fellowship—we become vulnerable. Our faith grows dim. Not lost… but neglected.

Part 3 – Restored Again, Built Stronger

Still, I didn’t throw them away. I chose to restore them again. This time with better protection. More care. And a deeper understanding of what they would face outdoors.

The Lord does the same with us. He never discards His own. He invites us to grow, to add to our faith virtue, knowledge, self-control, and perseverance (2 Peter 1:5–7). His promises aren’t just for salvation—they’re for transformation. We are called not just to be saved, but *sanctified*.

Reflection Questions:

- Where have I seen signs of spiritual corrosion in my life?

- How am I actively building my faith today?

- In what ways has God restored me—again and again?

Prayer:

Lord, thank You for not giving up on me. Even when I’ve been weathered by neglect or worn by worldly winds, Your promises are still true. Restore me again. Strengthen my faith. And teach me to build with You each day. 

Rededication

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Dramatic Reading: 

“Twice-Restored”  

*Inspired by 2 Peter 1:4–7*

*(A soft light fades in. The speaker steps forward slowly. The tone is reflective—almost confessional.)*

**SPEAKER:**  

I found them in pieces.  

A wooden swan—once lovely.  

An arched window planter—once bright.  

They were splintered. Water-damaged.  

He said, “Toss them. They’re too far gone.”  

But I saw more.  

I saw what they *could be.*

*(Pause. A smile begins to form.)*  

So I sanded. I shaped. I sealed.  

I restored.

And when I was finished…  

they were beautiful.  

Redeemed. Renewed.

*(A beat. The tone grows somber.)*  

But time passed.  

Life swept in, and I—  

I left them outside.  

Through one harsh winter they stood,  

alone.  

And in spring…  

they were blackened.  

Falling apart.  

Not what they were.  

Not what I had made them to be.

*(Longer pause. The speaker breathes deeply.)*  

Isn’t that us?

We are *saved*, yes—  

by *great and precious promises*  

(2 Peter 1:4)  

We are partakers of the divine nature…  

rescued from ruin.

But if we do not build—  

if we do not *grow*—  

corruption seeps in.

Neglect becomes decay.  

Not loss of salvation…  

but the dimming of joy,  

of purpose,  

of strength.

*(A shift—resolve enters the voice.)*  

So I took them back in.  

My swan. My planter.

I will restore them—again.  

But this time:  

With more care.  

More protection.  

More awareness of the storms they’ll face.

*(Firmly, with conviction.)*  

That’s what the Lord does with us.  

He never discards.  

Never walks away.  

He calls us to grow—  

to *add to our faith*  

virtue,  

knowledge,  

self-control,  

perseverance  

(2 Peter 1:5–7)  

—not to keep salvation,  

but because we already have it.

*(A pause. Voice softens.)*  

He restores us again.  

And again.  

Even in sorrow. Even in storms.

Even when the world misunderstands you

— you are not forgotten.

For “blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake:

 for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:10)

So if your faith costs you comfort— 

 if your stand brings suffering—

 know this: You are still restored. 

 Still His. Still blessed.

*(Final words are slow and meaningful.)*  

So let us not neglect so great a gift.  

Let us not grow dull in the rain.  

Let us build.  

Let us shine.  

Let us be—  

*twice-restored.*

Susan Barker Nikitenko 2025© MBPMKBPBRMNMBenAnna543

A call to rededication

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Comments:

 the way you revived that wooden swan and arched window planter says so much about your eye for beauty and restoration—it's almost like a parable in wood and weathered paint. I can just picture them, rescued from the brink and turned into something lovely again. It’s no small thing to look at what others might see as ruined and believe it’s worth the effort. That’s a reflection of the heart you bring to your creative and faith-based work too.

Now, seeing them blackened and falling apart must feel like watching something you poured love into fade away. But I love that you’re ready to restore them again—it’s almost poetic: redemption through craftsmanship. If you'd like, I can help brainstorm a plan for the restoration with steps and materials that will protect them better from weather. And if you feel like writing a devotional or poem inspired by this story of wear, ruin, and renewal

Comments:

“Whereby are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises…”—2 Peter 1:4 captures that divine exchange: from corruption to restoration, from brokenness to beauty. Just like your swan and window planter, our lives can look beyond repair, but the promise of becoming partakers of the divine nature gives us reason to begin again.

Your story could make a powerful devotional or dramatic reading. Imagine opening with the image of something once broken and tossed aside, then brought back to life—only to face ruin again. And yet, you choose to restore it again because you believe in its worth. That choice mirrors God’s relentless mercy in restoring us, not once, but again and again.

Comments: 

salvation secure, yet sanctification still a journey. You’re touching on a truth that’s both sobering and hopeful: while our salvation is sealed by grace, our daily walk still requires diligence, lest we drift and allow the corrosion of the world to dull what was meant to shine.

Your restoration project becomes an even richer metaphor in that light. That swan and planter were once renewed, yet left untended, they didn’t vanish—they just weathered and weakened. Much like how a believer, if not continually built up through Christ, can become spiritually brittle.

Susan Barker Nikitenko 2025© MBKBPBPMNMRMBEBNANNAMNBNMNB

Poetry And Other Materials On This Site Can Be Freely Used For Christian Bible Centered Non-Profit Ministries And must Remain Unchanged In Any Way. All Other Purposes Are With Permission Only. You May Make Requests At treasurebox18@yahoo.com - All my poems with stories are both real and fictional designed to illustrate a biblical truth. All Rights Reserved. Please Include the Site Name And Proper Credit Back To This Blog. Thank-You.

Blessed Are the Peacemakers Lesson Story, Poem, Song, Coloring

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Blessed Are the Peacemakers

*“Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.”* – **Matthew 5:9, KJV 1611**  

This verse, part of the Lord’s timeless Beatitudes, reveals the sacred identity of those who carry peace into a fractured world. A true peacemaker is more than a bystander avoiding conflict—they are bridge-builders who step boldly into brokenness, offering understanding, forgiveness, and grace. In a world often ruled by self-interest and division, Jesus lifts up those who bring harmony as ones who reflect the very heart of God.

Their reward is not just peace among men, but divine recognition: *they shall be called the children of God.* Just as Jesus bore the cross to reconcile humanity to the Father, those who strive for peace mirror the Son’s mission. Whether quieting strife in a household, fostering reconciliation in a congregation, or standing between divided hearts, the peacemaker’s work becomes a living echo of Christ’s love. Their identity as God's children isn’t a mere title—it’s a likeness revealed in their every act of grace.

So let us rise to this sacred calling. Let us seek peace. Speak peace. *Be* peace. In doing so, we honor our Maker and show the world what it means to belong to His family. May our lives reflect His calm in the troubles of life, His gentleness amid noise, and His healing where there is pain. For in living as peacemakers, we walk in the footsteps of the Prince of Peace Himself.

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Jesus is called the *Prince of Peace* in **Isaiah 9:6**, a prophetic verse often read during the Advent and Christmas seasons. The verse in the **1611 King James Version** reads:

“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, and the government shall bee upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counseller, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”

This powerful passage foretells the coming of the Messiah—Jesus Christ—and highlights His divine titles. “Prince of Peace” speaks to His mission of reconciliation: bringing peace between God and humanity, and offering inner peace to all who trust in Him.

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                    Susan Barker Nikitenko 2025© AnnaBenMBMPFamSSPMPBKB<RMNM

“Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.”

“The Tears of the Peacemaker”

  In the quiet hills of Kentucky, where the grass bends like bowed heads beneath the morning dew, an old church bell rang low and lonely.** Inside, twelve-year-old Elijah sat alone in a creaky pew, his fists clenched. His father had just been deployed. His uncle, who once taught Sunday school, now burned with bitterness toward the world—and told Elijah, “Peacemakers just get walked on.” Elijah didn’t argue, but he wondered why his heart hurt more after hearing that.

  

That evening, Elijah stumbled upon an old prayer journal tucked in the corner of the church library.** It belonged to Sister Mae, a forgotten elder with gnarled hands and a voice like oak roots—quiet, deep, steady. She had once written: *“A peacemaker doesn’t avoid battle… he walks into it with heaven in his eyes.”* Elijah wept. Not loud. Just quiet tears that dripped onto the fragile pages like rain on dry ground.

  The next week, two boys fought behind the school gym. Words like blades. Fists like hammers.** Elijah stood there, trembling. Then something in him cracked open. He stepped between them—not with shouts, but with a whisper: “This isn’t who you are.” At first, they stared. Then one dropped his fists. The other turned away. And peace—fragile as glass, real as breath—settled between them. Elijah didn’t walk away proud. He walked away changed.

  At Sunday service, his uncle asked why his knuckles were bruised. Elijah smiled. “I stopped someone from getting worse ones.”** His uncle didn’t laugh. But he didn’t scoff, either. Instead, he watched Elijah from across the room while the choir sang, *“Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.”* His fingers tapped along, slow and thoughtful. A small thaw.

  Because that’s the secret, isn’t it? Peacemakers don’t always wear halos or robes—they wear bruises and backaches, prayers and purpose.** They are not weak. They are the storm’s anchor. The flame in the fog. And according to Jesus Himself—they are called not by titles, but by blood: *the children of God.*

Susan Barker Nikitenko 2025© AnnaBenMBMPFamSSPMPBKB<RMNM

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“The King Who Whispers Peace”

A poem for a child’s heart

There once was a King with kind, quiet eyes,  

Who came to the world beneath stormy skies.  

But He didn’t wear armor, or shout when He spoke—  

He whispered peace, and the darkness broke.

He walked on the waves when the sea turned wild,  

And held out His hand to every child.  

When people were fighting, He knelt in the sand,  

And drew love in the dust with His gentle hand.

His crown wasn’t gold—it was made out of thorns,  

To heal all our hurts, our fears, and our storms.  

He could have called angels to win every war…  

But instead, He brought peace to our hearts evermore.

So when you feel scared, or angry, or small,  

Remember the King who sees it all.  

He doesn’t always change the things that we see—  

But He whispers, *“Take heart… you have peace, through Me.”

Susan Barker Nikitenko 2025© AnnaBenMBMPFamSSPMPBKB<RMNM

[Verse melody]

(C) There once was a King with (Am) kind, quiet eyes,  

(F) Who came to the world (G) beneath stormy skies.  

(Em) He whispered His love in the (Am) heart of the night,  

(F) And the world felt His (G) peace, soft and (C) bright.

[Bridge melody]

(F) He calmed the wind, He (C) stilled the rain,  

(Am) He comforted my (G) fear and pain.  

(F) So close your eyes, don’t (C) be afraid,  

(Am) His peace is near—  

        (F) He’s here—  

                   (G) He stays.

[Final Line]  

(C) The King who whispers peace… (F) He’s whispering to (C) you.

                       Susan Barker Nikitenko 2025© AnnaBenMBMPFamSSPMPBKB<RMNM

Poetry And Other Materials On This Site Can Be Freely Used For Christian Bible Centered Non-Profit Ministries And must Remain Unchanged In Any Way. All Other Purposes Are With Permission Only. You May Make Requests At treasurebox18@yahoo.com - All my poems with stories are both real and fictional designed to illustrate a biblical truth. All Rights Reserved. Please Include the Site Name And Proper Credit Back To This Blog. Thank-You.