This verse is timely. As I look back at Christmas time, I see its truth. I always tell the kids to not get me anything for Christmas, because I don’t really need anything, but I want to know what they and the grandkids want, and, if possible, I try to get it for them. I know that it will make them happy. That’s what parents do.

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Jesus’ words in Matthew 7:11 challenge one of the deepest assumptions many of us carry: the belief that God is hesitant, distant, or stingy when it comes to blessing His children. We may not say it out loud, but we often live as though God must be convinced, impressed, or persuaded before He gives anything good. Yet Jesus flips that thinking upside down. He begins with a comparison we can all understand. Even flawed, imperfect human parents—people who get it wrong regularly—still know how to give good gifts to their children. They want what’s best. They protect. They provide. And if that’s true of us, Jesus says, “how much more” is it true of God?

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That phrase—how much more—is the hinge of hope.

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God does not give reluctantly. He gives generously. He does not ration His goodness. He delights in pouring it out. And when we place Matthew 7:11 alongside Isaiah 61:7, a fuller picture of Restoration Life emerges: “Instead of shame and dishonor, you will enjoy a double share of honor. You will possess a double portion of prosperity in your land, and everlasting joy will be yours.” A double portion isn’t just “enough.” It’s abundance beyond loss. It’s restoration that doesn’t merely replace what was taken, but redeems it. It’s joy that rises not because life is easy, but because God is good.

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For many of us, trusting God as a generous Father is harder than it sounds. Our earthly experiences shape how we view Him. If authority figures disappointed us, if caregivers were inconsistent, or if love felt conditional, we may subconsciously project that onto God. We assume He gives sparingly, or with strings attached, or only after we’ve proven ourselves worthy. But Jesus invites us into a new way of seeing God—not as a reluctant provider, but as a loving Father whose nature is goodness itself. This doesn’t mean God gives us everything we ask for in the way we expect. A good parent doesn’t do that either. Love sometimes says no. Wisdom sometimes redirects. Protection sometimes withholds. But even God’s no is wrapped in goodness, and His delays are never denials of love.

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The Restoration Life isn’t built on getting what we want—it’s built on trusting who God is.

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Isaiah 61 speaks to people who have known loss, shame, grief, and brokenness. God’s promise to them is not minimal survival—it’s restored dignity and multiplied joy. A double portion of joy doesn’t erase the past; it transforms it. It says that pain will not have the final word. That suffering will not define you. That what was meant for harm will become a testimony of God’s grace. And Matthew 7:11 reminds us how that restoration flows—it comes from a Father who gives good gifts to His children. This is good news for believers who feel weary and worn down. And it’s good news for those who aren’t sure what they believe yet but long for something more than striving and disappointment. The God Jesus reveals is not a cosmic taskmaster or distant observer. He is a Father who invites us to ask, to trust, and to receive. The life you truly want—the one marked by wholeness, joy, and restoration—begins with a shift in posture. Not chasing more. Not earning favor. But coming honestly before God and believing that He is good, that His gifts are good, and that His heart toward you is generous.

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The question is not whether God wants to give. The question is whether we are willing to trust Him enough to ask—and humble enough to receive.

Father God, thank You for being a good and generous Father. Thank You that Your heart toward me is not reluctant, but loving. Help me trust that Your gifts are good—even when they look different than I expect. Heal the places where disappointment or fear have shaped how I see You. Teach me to ask with faith and receive with humility. Restore what has been broken. Replace shame with honor. Exchange my striving for joy. And lead me into the Restoration Life You promised—a life rooted in Your goodness and overflowing with Your grace. I trust You, not because I understand everything, but because You are good. Amen.