Arrest points: Courage to change through HIS love!

ARREST POINTS: Courage to Change Through His Love

As I write this, I feel the Lord drawing my heart toward a very specific kind of moment in our walk with Him—what I would call “arrest points.”

These are those times when, out of His deep love, God stops us in our tracks and says:

“No further on this road. I love you too much to let you keep going this way.”

Arrest points are not usually neat, tidy moments. They can be confusing, emotional, and disorienting. On the surface, it may look like everything is falling apart—yet underneath, something holy is happening. The God who knows the end from the beginning is reaching into our story and saying, “I will not let this keep going the way it’s going. I love you too much for that.”

I’ve had several of these in my own life—easily eight to ten clear moments—where the Lord has supernaturally intervened, redirected me, shut doors, exposed patterns, or re-routed my steps. Not to punish me, but to protect me, to rescue me from myself, and to realign me with His heart and His purposes.

Maybe as you’re reading this, you sense you’re at one of those arrest points right now. Maybe life as you knew it has been interrupted. Maybe something you were sure of has suddenly become uncertain. If so, this is for you.

WHEN LOVE PUTS ON THE BRAKES

When we hear the word “arrest,” we often think of handcuffs and punishment.

But spiritually, an arrest point is different.

It’s when the Father says:

“Stop. Look again. This path you’re on does not match My heart for you.”

Sometimes it’s:

• A sudden crisis you never saw coming.

• A door slamming that you begged God to keep open.

• A hidden issue being exposed.

• A conviction that will not let you get comfortable.

Sometimes it’s much quieter—a slow, holy uneasiness that grows over time. You can’t shake the sense that “something is off,” even if you can’t yet name what it is. You find less joy in what you used to enjoy. You feel a pull away from certain patterns and toward something deeper, cleaner, truer. That, too, can be an arrest point.

But behind it all is love.

“Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest and repent.”

— Revelation 3:19 (NIV)

His correction is not rejection. It’s proof that you are His.

If you and I could see what He sees—where that road leads, what that compromise would cost, what that relationship would do to our soul—we would actually be thanking Him for the brakes He just slammed. Arrest points are love in slow motion. They are mercy with a hard edge.

JONAH: ARRESTED IN THE DEEP

One of the clearest arrest points in Scripture is Jonah.

God says, “Go to Nineveh.”

Jonah says, in effect, “No, I’m going the other way.”

He boards a ship. A storm hits. The lot falls on him. He’s thrown into the sea. Then Scripture says:

“Now the Lord had prepared a great fish to swallow Jonah. And Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights.”

— Jonah 1:17

From the outside, that looks like judgment. From heaven’s side, it is a mercy-filled arrest point.

In the belly of that fish:

• Jonah is arrested – he can’t run anymore.

• He is stripped – no ship, no crowd, no escape plan.

• He is re-centered – his heart turns back to God.

“When my soul fainted within me, I remembered the Lord; and my prayer went up to You, into Your holy temple.”

— Jonah 2:7

What looked like the end of Jonah’s story was actually the place where God caught him, held him, and turned him back toward destiny. The “worst” thing that ever happened to Jonah became the womb of his obedience.

I sense the Lord saying to some hearts:

“What you are calling ‘disaster’ is where I arrested you. This is not where your life ended; this is where your running ended. I have used what the enemy meant for destruction as the place to meet you, speak to you, and redirect you through My love.”

PAUL: ARRESTED IN HIS ZEAL

Paul (then Saul) hits one of the most dramatic arrest points in all of Scripture.

He’s on his way to Damascus, absolutely convinced he’s serving God—breathing threats, armed with letters, full of religious zeal.

And then heaven intervenes:

“As he journeyed he came near Damascus, and suddenly a light shone around him from heaven. Then he fell to the ground, and heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?’”

— Acts 9:3–4

Saul thinks he’s defending God. In reality, he’s fighting Him.

That blinding light is an arrest point:

• God stops him mid-mission.

• God confronts his direction: “Why are you persecuting Me?”

• God redirects his calling: the persecutor becomes the apostle.

“So he, trembling and astonished, said, ‘Lord, what do You want me to do?’”

— Acts 9:6

I hear the Lord saying to some:

“You have been sincere, but sincerely wrong in some areas. You thought you were defending Me when you were actually resisting Me. My light has not come to destroy you, but to turn you from your own way into My way.”

Your arrest point is not the cancellation of your calling. It is the correction and purification of your calling. Sometimes the greatest shift in your life is not from “bad” to “good,” but from “good in your eyes” to “best in God’s eyes.”

DAVID: ARRESTED IN HIDDEN SIN

Then we have David.

He is still leading, still worshiping, still functioning as king… and yet underneath, there is adultery with Bathsheba and blood on his hands.

God sends Nathan with a story about a rich man, a poor man, and a stolen lamb. David is outraged at the injustice. Then Nathan says:

“You are the man!”

— 2 Samuel 12:7

That sentence is an arrest point.

• His self-deception collapses.

• His secret is dragged into the light.

• His heart breaks open in repentance—think of Psalm 51.

Sometimes an arrest point comes as a prophetic confrontation we didn’t ask for and didn’t want. We feel exposed. We feel cornered. Everything in us wants to defend, explain, justify. But if we will bow instead of argue, that very moment can become a doorway into freedom we never imagined.

I believe the Lord is saying to some:

“I love you too much to let you function publicly while dying privately. I am putting My finger on what you’ve learned to tolerate and excuse. Not to shame you, but to cleanse you and restore you.”

Arrest points can be painful, but they are invitations to have your heart washed, not your destiny erased.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.”

— Psalm 51:10

PETER: ARRESTED IN FAILURE, RESTORED IN LOVE

Peter’s life gives us two powerful arrest points.

1. The Rooster’s Cry

Peter passionately declares he will never deny Jesus. Then fear grips him, and three times he denies even knowing Him.

“Immediately, while he was still speaking, the rooster crowed. And the Lord turned and looked at Peter. Then Peter remembered…”

— Luke 22:60–61 (paraphrased)

“So Peter went out and wept bitterly.”

— Luke 22:62

That rooster. That look. That memory.

This is an arrest point of truth and brokenness.

Some of you are there right now. You’ve just heard “the rooster crow” in an area of your life, and you feel like, “That’s it. I’ve ruined everything.”

But Peter’s story does not end at the sound of the rooster.

2. The Charcoal Fire

In John 21, after the resurrection, Jesus meets Peter on the shore.

There is another charcoal fire. Another conversation. Another set of three.

“Simon, son of Jonah, do you love Me? … Feed My sheep.”

— John 21:15–17 (paraphrased)

This is an arrest point of restoration.

• Jesus doesn’t rewrite history, but He rewrites Peter’s future.

• He walks Peter back through his pain.

• He reaffirms Peter’s calling: “Feed My lambs… Tend My sheep… Feed My sheep.”

Peter’s denials aren’t edited out of Scripture—but neither is his commissioning. God does not pretend our failures never happened; He redeems them and still trusts us with His people.

I sense the Lord saying:

“Your failure is not final. I am arresting the shame that has been chaining itself to your story. I am restoring the very place where you fell, and I am still calling you to shepherd what I’ve put in your hands.”

GRIEVING THE STORY THAT NEVER WAS

Let’s be honest: we’re not only dealing with sin or wrong direction—we’re also dealing with grief.

Not just grief over what happened, but grief over what never happened.

We grieve:

• The life we thought we’d have by now.

• The ministry we imagined we’d be walking in.

• The people we expected would still be beside us.

• The version of ourselves we were sure we’d become.

We are grieving a story that mostly existed in our imagination.

And when God steps in with an arrest point, it can feel like He’s taking even that away. Sometimes the deepest pain is not losing what we actually had, but losing what we thought we were going to have. Our “someday” dies, and we don’t know who we are without it.

I hear Him saying:

“You are mourning what you imagined instead of receiving what I am actually giving. My redirection is not the end of your story. It is the place where your real story with Me begins.”

Paul captures this posture:

“Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal…”

— Philippians 3:13–14

Forgetting doesn’t mean pretending it never happened. It means laying down your grip on “what should have been” so you can embrace what God is doing now. It means saying, “Lord, I release my version of the story so I can step into Yours.”

At arrest points, the Lord is whispering:

“Stop grieving the story that never was, and let Me write the story that still can be.”

THE COURAGE TO CHANGE AT YOUR ARREST POINT

We’ve talked about being arrested by God’s love. But there’s another side to this: the courage to change in response.

Being stopped is one thing. Walking differently after you’re stopped is another.

Courage at an arrest point doesn’t always look loud or dramatic. Often it looks like quiet obedience, trembling yeses, and honest prayers. It looks like choosing the narrow road in the small, everyday decisions of your life.

1. Courage to Face the Truth

Before anything changes outwardly, something has to shift inwardly.

For David, it was Nathan saying, “You are the man.”

For Peter, it was the rooster crowing and Jesus’ eyes meeting his.

For Paul, it was a voice from heaven asking, “Why are you persecuting Me?”

Courage at an arrest point begins with:

“Lord, show me what You see. Search me. Expose what I’ve been avoiding.”

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my anxieties; and see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

— Psalm 139:23–24

His love makes that prayer safe. You can’t change what you won’t face—but you don’t have to face it alone. The same God who reveals is the God who heals. The same light that exposes also warms, restores, and renews.

2. Courage to Let Go and Trust Him With the Fallout

So often, the hardest part of change is not what God is asking, but who it will affect.

• Abraham had to let Hagar and Ishmael go.

• Jonah had to go to a place he never wanted to go.

• Paul had to walk away from a system that once celebrated him.

• Peter had to step back into ministry in the same circles where he had failed.

Courage here sounds like:

“Lord, I hand You the people, their reactions, the misunderstandings, the losses. I trust You to be God for them. I will stop trying to be their savior.”

“Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.”

— 1 Peter 5:7

You are not called to manage every outcome; you are called to obey the One who sees the end from the beginning. Some relationships may shift. Some opinions about you may change. Not everyone will understand your obedience. Courage is choosing to value His “Well done” above every other voice in the room.

3. Courage to Take the Next Step, Not See the Whole Map

At arrest points, God rarely gives us a 10–step blueprint.

To Paul, He simply says:

“Arise and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.”

— Acts 9:6

To Abraham:

“Go to a land that I will show you.”

— Genesis 12:1

Courage here is very simple and very hard:

“I don’t see everything, but I see enough to take the next step.”

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”

— 2 Timothy 1:7

Power to move. Love to anchor you. A sound mind to make clear decisions in the swirl. You don’t need to know where you’ll be in five years; you need to know what obedience looks like today. Often, the map unfolds step by step as you walk.

4. Courage to Receive Love Instead of Staying in Shame

Some of us obey outwardly, but inwardly we stay bound.

Peter could have stayed in the boat and never preached again. Instead, he let Jesus:

• Feed him breakfast,

• Sit him by a charcoal fire,

• Ask him three times, “Do you love Me?”

• Recommission him in the very area where he fell.

Courage here says:

“Lord, I will not argue with Your mercy. If You call me forgiven, I won’t keep calling myself disqualified. If You restore me, I will stop punishing myself.”

“There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus…”

— Romans 8:1

“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear…”

— 1 John 4:18

At your arrest point, His love is not only what stops you. His love is what gives you the courage to move forward differently. The enemy wants your arrest point to become a permanent label. God wants it to become a doorway into a new chapter.

A PERSONAL ARREST POINT: PRIEST OR POLICEMAN

One of my own arrest points came right at the end of high school.

I was raised in a traditional Roman Catholic environment and attended a Catholic school. Near graduation, I sat down with my guidance counselor—a Basilian priest. He asked me a simple but loaded question:

“What do you want to do after you finish your education?”

Without hesitating, I said:

“I either want to be a priest or a policeman.”

He stopped, looked at me, and said words that would mark me:

“I want to tell you—you will never want to be a priest.”

In that moment, something in my heart shifted. Whether he realized it or not, that conversation became an arrest point.

I determined that I would pursue the police route. I went on to complete enforcement training and set my course toward law enforcement. At the time, it felt like the Lord—in His love—was closing one door and pushing me toward another.

Looking back now, I can see the kindness of God in it. He used that moment to redirect me. He took my desire for justice, order, and protection and formed something in me through that path. And yet, here I am today, walking in a pastoral, priestly role—just in a very different context than I imagined as a teenager.

What I thought was a “no” to priesthood was actually God reshaping the how, not the heart. He didn’t crush the desire to serve Him; He redirected it through His love and eventually brought me right back into shepherding His people—just on a different road than I first pictured.

ANOTHER PERSONAL ARREST POINT: THE DOOR THAT WOULD HAVE DESTROYED MY DESTINY

Years later, another arrest point came when I was being seriously considered for a high-level diplomatic position with the Canadian government in a foreign nation. Out of thousands of interested candidates, I ended up as one of the final three.

This wasn’t just a job. It was prestige, influence, diplomatic status. On paper, it looked like a dream assignment—tailor-made for someone who wanted to represent Canada and, in my heart, to represent Christ in a strategic place.

I really wanted it. I prayed. I believed. I quoted Scripture. I reminded the Lord that He gives us the desires of our heart, that I walked in His favor, that this could be a powerful place of influence for His kingdom.

Then the decision came. Out of the final three, I was the one they didn’t choose.

I went to the Lord honestly and puzzled:

“Lord, I really wanted this. I know You give the desires of our heart. I know I walk in Your favor. Why didn’t I get this position?”

And He answered me very clearly and very lovingly:

“Peter, if I had given you this position, it would have destroyed your destiny in Me.”

That one sentence became an arrest point. In a moment, He reframed what I called disappointment as protection. What I experienced as a closed door was actually God guarding my calling.

Some of what we call rejection is really an arrest point of love. God saying:

“If I opened this door right now, it would crush what I’m building in you. I’m not just protecting you from failure—I’m protecting you from a ‘success’ that would destroy your destiny.”

Looking back now, I can see how that “no” freed me to walk deeper into the path I’m on today—pastoral, prophetic, priestly, serving the body of Christ in ways that fit who He designed me to be. The diplomatic door looked like promotion, but closing it was actually preservation.

STUBBORNNESS REDEEMED BY LOVE

Another arrest point in my journey came not through a closed door but through a prophecy that exposed something deep in my personality.

Years ago, a well-known prophet from Alabama ministered over my life. In his thick southern accent, he began with words that did not exactly make me excited about the prophecy:

“Boy, you were so stubborn when you were a little boy that you got so many whippings.”

In that moment, I remember thinking, I’m not sure I’m going to like where this is going—and inwardly I was ready to reject the whole word.

Then he added a single line that I will never forget:

“But God says to you today that I am going to use your stubbornness to advance the kingdom of God.”

Those two or three sentences marked me for life.

In that moment, the Lord arrested something in me—not to remove it, but to redeem it. I began to see that the same stubborn streak that got me into trouble as a child, if surrendered to Him, could become holy determination, holy perseverance, a refusal to quit when He has spoken.

God does not always erase our raw temperament; He redirects it. Stubbornness in the flesh says, “I’ll do it my way no matter what.” Stubbornness surrendered to love says, “Lord, I will hold the line on what You have said, no matter what.”

“It is the spirit of, “For the Lord God will help Me; therefore I will not be disgraced; therefore I have set My face like a flint, and I know that I will not be ashamed.”

— Isaiah 50:7

When I look at some of the major figures in Scripture—Paul, Peter, Jacob—I see the same pattern. Strong-willed, often headstrong men whose “stubbornness” was arrested by God and then harnessed for the sake of the kingdom. The issue is not whether we are strong-willed; the issue is whether that will is yielded. At an arrest point, God takes what once fought against His purposes and, in love, forges it into a tool to advance His purposes.

SCRIPTURE IS FULL OF THESE ARREST POINTS

Once you start looking, Scripture is overflowing with these love-filled interruptions:

• Jacob wrestling with God at the river, walking away limping but renamed Israel.

• Moses at the burning bush, convinced his life is over while God is just getting started.

• Balaam blocked by a “stubborn” donkey and an angel in the road.

• Elijah in the cave, ready to die, arrested by a still, small voice asking, “What are you doing here?”

• The prodigal son in the pigpen, “coming to himself” and remembering the Father’s house.

• The Samaritan woman at the well, exposed and then turned into a voice to her city.

• Isaiah undone in the temple, cleansed by a coal, then saying, “Here am I! Send me.”

• Even Nebuchadnezzar, whose pride was broken so his sanity and worship could be restored.

Over and over again, God steps into people’s stories, hits pause, and says:

“We’re not taking one more step in this direction. We’re turning.”

A PROPHETIC CALL AT YOUR ARREST POINT

If you sense that you’re at an arrest point right now, treat this like an altar moment—wherever you are.

Maybe it looks like disaster. Maybe it feels like failure. Maybe it just feels like everything has stopped, and you aren’t sure why. Maybe all you know is that the way things were cannot continue.

Right there, if you can, open your hands as a sign of surrender and pray:

“Father, I recognize that You are arresting me in Your love. You are not punishing me; You are protecting me. I bring You my crowded heart—my promises, my mistakes, my fears, my grief, my plans. I lay down the story I wrote for myself. Show me what You see. Give me the courage to change course where You are asking me to change. Heal the grief of what never was. Catch me like You caught Jonah. Confront me like You confronted Saul. Cleanse me like You cleansed David. Restore me like You restored Peter. Let Your perfect love drive out my fear. I trust You with what I cannot fix. In Jesus’ Name, amen.”

And I believe His heart back to you sounds like this:

“I have not brought you here to shame you but to free you. I am not ending your story; I am correcting your course. The years you feel are lost are not wasted in My hands. Walk with Me. My love will give you the courage to change.”