It is 237am and I have decided to write. I spent 15 minutes thinking about what to write and nothing. I decided to go wash the wares and make breakfast. I made grilled cheese sandwiches. It is the next morning and I still have not decided yet. Let me start with this. God is beautiful. God makes no mistakes. God wants us to win. In other words, we cannot lose with God. We will always win with God. But what is the prize to be won with God? Or does it not matter?
My friend Chatty tells me that with God, the win is: Peace that is not dependent on circumstances. Meaning that suffering cannot cancel. Love that does not expire. Hope that death itself cannot take away. Things like those. It is not money, comfort, applause, or an easy life. Those things may come or go. Many faithful people never receive them. The world’s prizes can be stolen. God's prize cannot.
Further and with God, winning is not about external rewards or worldly success, but about union, peace, and fullness of being; at first we may seek a prize because we feel lacking, but as love and trust deepen, the need for a reward fades, since God Himself becomes enough. The "prize" matters only until desire is satisfied—then it dissolves into a quiet, lived reality where meaning, hope, and rest are already present, even in ordinary moments, and life is no longer about winning or losing, but about being held.
Think of it this way: A prize is something you chase because you lack. God is someone you rest in because you are full. If you love God only for a reward, the reward still matters. If you love God for God, the reward becomes irrelevant—or rather, it is already present. I like that. Unconditional love. God is enough for us. At this point winning does not matter and the prize does not matter. God alone matters and our relationship with God is worth it all.
When we ask about the cost with God, we often imagine a price to be paid, but God does not trade love for performance or demand suffering to earn favor. The only "cost" is surrender—the gradual letting go of control, false measures of worth, and lesser prizes in order to trust more deeply. Though this can feel heavy, it does not diminish us; it frees us, leaving not an earned reward but a life rooted in grace and a relationship with God that is quiet, sustaining, and enough.
I would like to think that the cost is free. Free will to choose God. It costs us nothing to turn to God. And that is the real definition of freedom. The cost with God is free, because turning to God requires no payment, sacrifice, or qualification—only the free will to choose Him. This choice is true freedom: an invitation, not a transaction, where love and grace are given without condition. Any later surrender or letting go is not an entry price, but the natural unfolding of love after the choice has already been made. God made the choice easy for us because He is a merciful God. So it is not winning or losing or a prize or a price but a choice that is free and brings us freedom and within the hold of God.
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