Have you ever reflected on your life and muttered, “I thought it was over?” Perhaps it was a romance, a job, your health, or your beliefs. Pastor Steven Furtick’s stunning message, I Thought It Was Over, presented at Elevation Church, delves deep into that very human experience—when what we thought was the end turns out to be a fresh start. This message combines the raw honesty of Psalm 77, personal problems, and the ancient departure of Israel to demonstrate a timeless truth: what appears to be the end is frequently merely a hidden portion of God’s journey.
Before you continue reading, keep in mind that anyone can join the Church of Sermons as a member. Whether you’re new to faith or have been on the journey for years, there’s a space for you to belong, reflect, and grow alongside others who have experienced their own “I thought it was through” seasons. This is a community where every narrative is important, vulnerability meets hope, and the tumultuous seas of life reveal fresh shores of grace.
Let us investigate how the journey from despair to deliverance occurs—not in theory, but in the messy, wonderful reality of everyday life.
The Effectiveness of the “I Thought” Trap
Most people would tell you that the most difficult challenges in their lives have been outward foes, difficult circumstances, or even spiritual warfare. But, as Pastor Furtick so candidly admits, the greatest enemy we confront is frequently not what is around us, but what is within us. These are our thoughts. More specifically, it refers to our “I thought” moments.
I assumed my life would be different by now.
I assumed I’d be married.
I assumed I’d be farther along.
I believed God would have responded by now.
I thought I was over this problem.
What happens when your reality does not meet your expectations? When the tale you created in your head does not come true in real life? Often, these experiences become more than just disappointments; they are mental prisons that paint every experience with the gray of regret or the bitterness of envy.
The “I thought” trap is a worldwide phenomenon. It can be founded on ego (thinking we know best), comparison (measuring our lives by someone else’s highlight reel), and nostalgia (idolizing the “former days”). We are all on the verge of admitting, “I was so sure…and I was so wrong.”
Admitting that is difficult. In fact, as Pastor Furtick says, most of us would rather forget every time we were confidently wrong, burying those memories rather than gaining insight from them. However, growth occurs not by believing we were always correct, but by facing our mistakes boldly.
From lament to wisdom: the honesty of Psalm 77
Psalm 77 is not a psalm of victory. It is not the chorus of someone on a hilltop, basking in the light of answered prayers. It is a lamenting psalm—the scream of someone who feels abandoned, unheard, and uncertain. However, as Pastor Furtick points out, the psalm’s power stems from its honesty.
The psalmist does not sugarcoat his emotions:
“I cried out to God for help…” I was distressed. I extended out my unwavering palms and refused to be soothed.”
“I remembered you, God, and I groaned.”
That is not the Instagrammable, filter-perfect depiction of faith that we often demand. This is trust in the dark—raw, authentic, and sometimes filled with questions. The psalmist’s dilemma is neither an enemy at the gate, nor is it his own guilt. It’s God’s absence—the terrible sensation that the God who once felt so close now appears so far away.
This level of honesty can be unnerving. What do you do when your problem is not with your surroundings, but with God? When the God you prayed to for comfort appears silent? When your “I thought God would…” is met with more waiting?
However, the beauty of the psalms is that God accepts even our groans. He urges us to bring our bewilderment, pain, and unsolved questions, not simply our accomplishments. Lament does not mark the end of faith; rather, it is the cradle of deeper insight.
The three Ps of negative thinking are personal, permanent, and pervasive
As the psalmist expresses his grief, we notice three powerful lies that frequently swirl in the middle of despair—what psychologists refer to as the “three Ps” of negative thinking:
Personal: “This is me. “The Lord has rejected me.”
Every disappointment and loss is a reflection of your worth. You start to believe that your sorrow is punishment, that you are singularly defective or abandoned.
“It will never change.”
Every hardship, every low season, feels like it will never end. Despair says, “This is how things will always be.” “There is no hope.”
Pervasive: “It affects everything.”
The gloom permeates every aspect of your life. You can’t enjoy minor victories or blessings since one nagging problem ruins your entire attitude.
These three traps combine to transform ordinary pain into despair. Pastor Furtick preaches that distress is normal—it is the result of living in a damaged world. Despair is distinct. Despair is misery without hope. It is the belief that the darkness is complete, the suffering is never-ending, and you are entirely alone.
When Despair becomes Your Identity
The problem is not only feeling sadness, but allowing it to define you. Many of us have been labeled by disappointment as failures, forgotten, hopeless, or inadequate. We use the phrase “I thought” so many times that it becomes a prison cell.
“I thought God would heal me.”
“I thought I’d be delivered from this addiction.”
“I thought my marriage would survive.”
“I thought my faith would be stronger by now.”
When our expectations are not satisfied, we don’t only mourn the loss; we begin to question everything, even God’s character and love for us.
Pastor Furtick explains this brilliantly: What do you do when you have a problem with someone who has no employer, no supervisor, and no appeals court? What do you do when you can’t “fix” your problem with more effort, hustle, or prayer—because your problem is God’s silence?
Many people abandon their faith here in this valley. However, if we have the fortitude to go through rather than flee, we might experience the most profound changes.
A Hinge in the Dark: The Power of “Then I Thought”
In the midst of despair, the psalmist’s turning point is three simple words: Then I had a thought. After all of the lamenting, whining, and hopeless inquiries, something changes. It does not begin with an answered prayer, a miracle, or a fresh set of circumstances. It begins with a fresh thought.
“Then I thought: To this I shall appeal—the years when the Most High extended his right hand. I shall remember the Lord’s acts, as well as your long-ago wonders. I will study all of your works and reflect on all of your great deeds.”
This is the turning point—the moment when despair gives way to hope, not because the agony has gone away, but because the viewpoint has shifted. The psalmist stops gazing inward at his own hands—stretched, tired, empty—and instead looks upward at God’s hand—strong, faithful, and outstretched to deliver.
Here’s the truth: you can’t overcome life’s agony on your own. You can’t “think positive” your way out of terrible disappointment. You can shift your focus away from your own limitations and toward God’s limitless power.
God’s Path Through the Sea: An Exodus Analogy
Pastor Furtick offers a strong connection from the tale of the Israelites’ flight from Egypt, which is a basic deliverance narrative in Scripture.
When the Israelites stood on the edge of the Red Sea, with Egyptian chariots closing up behind them, they believed they were done. They asked Moses the question: “Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us to the desert to die?” Their “I thought” was clear: this is it. We are going to perish here. God has abandoned us.
But God had a road through the sea, one that could only be seen in retrospect. As the waters divided, the Israelites marched forward not on dry ground of assurance, but on a miracle they could not have predicted. On the other side of the sea, they sang a new song—one of deliverance, wonder, and worship to a God who provides a way where there was none.
This is the pattern of deliverance.
What you believed would ruin you becomes the precise thing that God uses to save you.
What appeared to be the end is actually the start of a new journey.
What appeared to be an absence was actually God’s concealed presence, working on a level you couldn’t see.
In the words of Psalm 77:19: “Your path led through the sea, your way through the mighty waters, though your footprints were not seen.” Sometimes the proof of God’s hand is not obvious in the moment. Sometimes you can’t recognize the miraculous until you’ve walked through the waves.
Thinking It Through: Lessons from the Present Struggle
So, what exactly does it mean to “think it through”? It’s not simply about positive thinking or mental tricks. This is about:
Remembering God’s faithfulness: Reflect on the miracles, big and little, in your own life. Remember when what seemed like the end became a turning point.
Appealing to a greater truth: When “I thought” becomes a trap, choose to focus on God’s promises rather than your troubles.
Trusting in God’s hidden work: Even if you can’t see the footprints, believe that God’s hand is moving. Deliverance frequently occurs through, not around, the rivers.
This does not imply dismissing your pain or pretending everything is fine. The psalms allow us to weep, groan, and pour forth our hearts. However, regret is not the end of the narrative. According to Pastor Furtick, “Every thought that starts with me ends in misery if it doesn’t involve God.”
The Enemy Cannot Swim: Why Your Struggle Is Not Over
The exodus account has a stunning truth: the Red Sea, which appeared to drown the Israelites, became the very thing that decimated their foes. The difficulty was transformed into a source of deliverance.
What does this mean to you? Sometimes the one thing you fear the most is where God will show His strength. Sometimes the season that you believed would destroy you is the one that will strengthen you. Sometimes an attack demonstrates the value of what you carry. Pastor Furtick says, “The enemy can’t swim.” What threatens to overwhelm you cannot reach the One who guides you through.
So, if you’re faced with a sea of fear, a river of regret, or an ocean of unresolved questions, don’t give up. Do not believe the deception that God has abandoned you. Even if you can’t see it, the route is being carved out.
The Courage to Rethink Your Story
It takes bravery to say, “I was wrong.” It takes even more bravery to admit, “Maybe I’m wrong right now.” It takes bravery to change “I thought it was through” to “Then I thought…”
This represents the transition from despair to hope. It is the willingness to reframe your tale, to see your pain through the prism of God’s larger plan, to acknowledge that His thoughts and ways are not yours.
God’s deliverance seldom looks like we expect. If it did, we would be worshiping our own wisdom rather than God’s. Sometimes God separates the sea. Sometimes He walks alongside us through the flames. He is constantly working—often invisibly, but always faithfully.
Still Here: A Testimony to Perseverance
This sermon’s fundamental message is one of perseverance: I’m still here. In a world that values fast gratification and simple solutions, sometimes the greatest act of faith is just refusing to give up. Even when despair says, “It’s over,” the truth is that if you’re still breathing, God hasn’t finished.
You’re still here, despite your injuries.
You’re still here, despite your doubts.
You’re still here, despite having experienced loss.
God is still working on your tale, which is why you are still here.
This is the type of faith that sings on the other side of the sea—not because all the solutions have arrived, but because you know the One who will guide you through.
A Community for the Journey: Join the Church of Sermons
If you’ve read this far, you’ve realized you’re not alone in your struggle. Many people have trodden the path of misery before you. The Church of Sermons is a place for people like you—those who have struggled with doubt, experienced disappointment, and continue to believe that God’s best is not behind them.
Anyone is welcome to join the Church of Sermons as a member. Everyone is welcome, regardless of their origin, stories, or challenges. Here, vulnerability is strength, inquiries are encouraged, and hope is fostered through community. Together, we recall, contemplate, and celebrate the God who guides us across the sea.
A Last Word: From “I Thought” to “Then I Thought”
Take heart if you find yourself standing at the edge of your own Red Sea. What you thought was over may only be the beginning. The footprints may be buried, but God’s hand is always present.
Do not let your thoughts to become your jail. Do not allow sadness to become your identity. Think about it, with God at the core of your story. Remember the hand that has guided you, the miracles you’ve witnessed, and the grace that has sustained you.
And when the singing rises on the other side of the sea, join in—not because the voyage was easy, but because the God who leads you through is dependable.
Still here. Still believe. Still moving forward.
If you want to be a part of a community that journeys through each season together, become a member of the Church of Sermons. Your story belongs here.
Reflection and Prayer
God, at our darkest moments, when “I thought” becomes a trap, remind us of your unseen presence. Give us the confidence to consider things through, not just with our own wisdom, but also by recalling your constancy. Thank you for the ancient and new stories of deliverance, as well as the promise that what appears to be the end is frequently just the beginning. May we continue to move forward, remaining present, believing, and shouting your praises.
Amen.
