It is the deep-seated hope of every human being to reap from their labor. From the earliest hours of the morning, we rise to work, to build, to create, and to contribute—with the expectation that our efforts will yield results. Whether we labor in fields, offices, homes, or businesses, the human heart yearns for reward.
We hope that the long hours, sleepless nights, and hard-earned experience will give us a rightful return. And most of us put our full weight behind our work—though, admittedly, there are a few lazybones among us. But even the hardworking are not immune to disappointment. When our sweat does not translate into success, the heart grows weary. When our input yields no visible output, the soul begins to sink.
Sadly, there are still employers—yes, even within our places of worship—who exploit the honest labor of others. I have tasted this bitter injustice myself. Wages withheld. Promises broken. Have you ever been a victim of the same? If so, you know the weight it brings.
There’s something especially cruel about having your efforts ignored or abused. It drains hope. It deflates the spirit. The long hours, the difficult tasks, the energy invested—all wasted. For some, the injustice sparks retaliation or rebellion. Others walk away silently, choosing peace over confrontation. But even in their silence, wounds remain. Injustices like these lodge deep within the hearts of men and women, often festering for years.
And to those who are guilty of withholding the just earnings of others—beware. You may hide behind legal terms or clever excuses, but you are opening your life to trouble. The tears of the laborer are not forgotten. Their cries ascend before God, and He who sees in secret is still able to bring justice. He can dry up sources of income and shake the foundations of prosperity. God is not blind to oppression. He hears the groans of those robbed of their wages, and He will act in His own time.
I often see farmers in our country crying out for help. The maize growers lament the devastation caused by fall armyworms. Farmers around Mount Kenya beg for solutions against wild animals that ravage their crops. Rice and wheat producers speak out about rising costs and natural threats. Their grievances are valid, rooted in real loss and pain. The cry is simple: “We worked hard. Help us protect our yield.” There is something deeply embedded in human nature that resists loss—especially when it comes after effort. We are not designed to toil without reward.
In one village, a heartbreaking story unfolded. A middle-aged man took his own life after his wife left him. The villagers, shocked and confused, searched for answers. They found a note he had written before taking his life. In it, he said, “It is not good to commit hara-kiri. But I cannot live anymore without the marriage and family I gave myself for. It is impossible for me to start over. The energy I gave to this family all those years cannot be reclaimed.” That note was heavy with pain—and truth. How many men and women find themselves at similar breaking points? How many have given everything to a dream, a relationship, a job, only to be left with empty hands?
There are thousands, maybe millions, who are silently counting the years they poured into something that did not reward them. They are living with what feels like wasted sacrifice. Wasted years. Wasted energy. But let me offer a new perspective: what if we were looking to the wrong source for our reward?
Many of us, like Simon Peter and his companions, live with the mindset of self-reliance. They were seasoned fishermen, experienced in the patterns of the sea. Yet one night, despite all their knowledge and effort, they caught nothing. When Jesus instructed them to try again, Simon replied, “Master, we worked hard all last night and didn’t catch a thing. But if you say so, I’ll let the nets down again.” (Luke 5:5, NLT). The turning point came not through effort, but obedience. The difference was not in the skill—but in who gave the instruction.
This is where many of us go wrong. We believe our success is tied solely to our strength, qualifications, and strategies. We forget that everything we have is sustained by grace. And when that belief fails us—when our work bears no fruit—we spiral into despair.
King David also reached a moment of deep need. Hunted by Saul and desperate, he came to Abimelech the priest asking for food. There was no ordinary bread, only the holy bread. Yet David received it, and from that encounter, he penned Psalm 34. In verse 10, he wrote, “Even strong lions go hungry, but those who trust in the Lord will lack no good thing.” (Psalm 34:10, ERV). David understood that strength and effort alone are not enough. Even the young, powerful, and fearless lions sometimes go hungry. But those who seek God—those who trust Him—will not go without.
Let us pause here and ask ourselves: How many of us are strong but still hungry? How many are skilled yet empty, experienced but broken?
It is time we shift our trust. Our own strength will fail. Our expertise will reach its limits. Our resources will dry up. But God never disappoints. He is not unjust. He does not withhold what is due. And more than that, He knows exactly what we need—even before we ask.
Whatever it is that your heart longs for—peace, provision, joy, family, stability, healing—go to God for it. If you seek Him in honesty and faith, He will provide. Not just with what is sufficient, but with what is good. His storehouses do not run dry. His promises do not fail. His generosity has no limits.
If you have a business, seek God. If you’re leading a family, turn to Him for wisdom. If you’re married, look to Him for grace. If you’re employed, let Him guide your effort. If you’re burdened by injustice, let Him defend your cause. Trust Him, and you will not be disappointed.
Let your life be anchored in this truth: Get it from God. Build your expectations around His faithfulness, not man’s frailty. Let your hope rise not from the promises of people, but from the unshakable Word of the Almighty. And in every area of your life, establish a pillar that says: “My help comes from the Lord.”
We hope that the long hours, sleepless nights, and hard-earned experience will give us a rightful return. And most of us put our full weight behind our work—though, admittedly, there are a few lazybones among us. But even the hardworking are not immune to disappointment. When our sweat does not translate into success, the heart grows weary. When our input yields no visible output, the soul begins to sink.
Sadly, there are still employers—yes, even within our places of worship—who exploit the honest labor of others. I have tasted this bitter injustice myself. Wages withheld. Promises broken. Have you ever been a victim of the same? If so, you know the weight it brings.
There’s something especially cruel about having your efforts ignored or abused. It drains hope. It deflates the spirit. The long hours, the difficult tasks, the energy invested—all wasted. For some, the injustice sparks retaliation or rebellion. Others walk away silently, choosing peace over confrontation. But even in their silence, wounds remain. Injustices like these lodge deep within the hearts of men and women, often festering for years.
And to those who are guilty of withholding the just earnings of others—beware. You may hide behind legal terms or clever excuses, but you are opening your life to trouble. The tears of the laborer are not forgotten. Their cries ascend before God, and He who sees in secret is still able to bring justice. He can dry up sources of income and shake the foundations of prosperity. God is not blind to oppression. He hears the groans of those robbed of their wages, and He will act in His own time.
I often see farmers in our country crying out for help. The maize growers lament the devastation caused by fall armyworms. Farmers around Mount Kenya beg for solutions against wild animals that ravage their crops. Rice and wheat producers speak out about rising costs and natural threats. Their grievances are valid, rooted in real loss and pain. The cry is simple: “We worked hard. Help us protect our yield.” There is something deeply embedded in human nature that resists loss—especially when it comes after effort. We are not designed to toil without reward.
In one village, a heartbreaking story unfolded. A middle-aged man took his own life after his wife left him. The villagers, shocked and confused, searched for answers. They found a note he had written before taking his life. In it, he said, “It is not good to commit hara-kiri. But I cannot live anymore without the marriage and family I gave myself for. It is impossible for me to start over. The energy I gave to this family all those years cannot be reclaimed.” That note was heavy with pain—and truth. How many men and women find themselves at similar breaking points? How many have given everything to a dream, a relationship, a job, only to be left with empty hands?
There are thousands, maybe millions, who are silently counting the years they poured into something that did not reward them. They are living with what feels like wasted sacrifice. Wasted years. Wasted energy. But let me offer a new perspective: what if we were looking to the wrong source for our reward?
Many of us, like Simon Peter and his companions, live with the mindset of self-reliance. They were seasoned fishermen, experienced in the patterns of the sea. Yet one night, despite all their knowledge and effort, they caught nothing. When Jesus instructed them to try again, Simon replied, “Master, we worked hard all last night and didn’t catch a thing. But if you say so, I’ll let the nets down again.” (Luke 5:5, NLT). The turning point came not through effort, but obedience. The difference was not in the skill—but in who gave the instruction.
This is where many of us go wrong. We believe our success is tied solely to our strength, qualifications, and strategies. We forget that everything we have is sustained by grace. And when that belief fails us—when our work bears no fruit—we spiral into despair.
King David also reached a moment of deep need. Hunted by Saul and desperate, he came to Abimelech the priest asking for food. There was no ordinary bread, only the holy bread. Yet David received it, and from that encounter, he penned Psalm 34. In verse 10, he wrote, “Even strong lions go hungry, but those who trust in the Lord will lack no good thing.” (Psalm 34:10, ERV). David understood that strength and effort alone are not enough. Even the young, powerful, and fearless lions sometimes go hungry. But those who seek God—those who trust Him—will not go without.
Let us pause here and ask ourselves: How many of us are strong but still hungry? How many are skilled yet empty, experienced but broken?
It is time we shift our trust. Our own strength will fail. Our expertise will reach its limits. Our resources will dry up. But God never disappoints. He is not unjust. He does not withhold what is due. And more than that, He knows exactly what we need—even before we ask.
Whatever it is that your heart longs for—peace, provision, joy, family, stability, healing—go to God for it. If you seek Him in honesty and faith, He will provide. Not just with what is sufficient, but with what is good. His storehouses do not run dry. His promises do not fail. His generosity has no limits.
If you have a business, seek God. If you’re leading a family, turn to Him for wisdom. If you’re married, look to Him for grace. If you’re employed, let Him guide your effort. If you’re burdened by injustice, let Him defend your cause. Trust Him, and you will not be disappointed.
Let your life be anchored in this truth: Get it from God. Build your expectations around His faithfulness, not man’s frailty. Let your hope rise not from the promises of people, but from the unshakable Word of the Almighty. And in every area of your life, establish a pillar that says: “My help comes from the Lord.”
