There’s a pervasive belief that runs through many cultures and religions: the idea that God, the universe, or some cosmic force selectively distributes blessings to certain people while withholding them from others. We hear it constantly. “I’m so blessed.” “God has a plan.” “Everything happens for a reason.” But what if this comforting narrative is obscuring a more empowering truth? What if the blessings we attribute to divine intervention are actually the fruits of our own labor, decisions, and circumstances?
The concept of divine blessing creates a troubling framework for understanding success and failure. When good things happen to us, we credit God. When bad things happen, we’re told it’s a test, or that God works in mysterious ways, or that we need to have faith. This circular logic conveniently explains everything while actually explaining nothing. It’s a system that can never be proven wrong because it’s designed to accommodate any outcome.
Consider two people who both lose their jobs. One finds new employment within a month and declares it a blessing. The other searches for six months before landing a position. Was the first person more favored by God? Or did they perhaps have a stronger professional network, more in-demand skills, or simply better timing? When we attribute outcomes to divine intervention, we ignore the tangible factors that actually shaped those outcomes.
The reality is that what we call luck is largely the intersection of preparation and opportunity. Someone who spends years developing expertise in their field isn’t blessed when they land a prestigious position. They’ve positioned themselves to recognize and seize opportunities that others might miss. The entrepreneur who succeeds after multiple failures hasn’t received divine favor. They’ve learned from their mistakes, adapted their approach, and persisted through adversity.
This isn’t to say that random chance plays no role in our lives. Of course it does. Being born into a wealthy family versus a poor one, living in a stable country versus a war-torn one, having genes that predispose you to health versus illness—these factors are distributed without regard to merit or virtue. But this randomness isn’t the same as blessing. It’s simply the arbitrary nature of existence. Some people start the race ten meters from the finish line while others begin miles behind. Calling this inequality a divine plan doesn’t make it just. It merely sanctifies injustice.
The blessing narrative also has a dark underside that its proponents rarely acknowledge. If God blesses some people, the logical corollary is that God withholds blessings from others. This implies that the child born into poverty, the person diagnosed with a devastating illness, or the victim of violence somehow deserves less favor. We might say “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle,” but this is cold comfort to someone experiencing unbearable suffering. It transforms tragedy into a cosmic judgment.
When we create our own luck, we do so through consistent effort, strategic thinking, and the cultivation of skills and relationships. The student who studies diligently isn’t blessed with good grades. They’ve earned them. The athlete who trains for hours every day isn’t the recipient of divine athletic ability. They’ve built it. The person who maintains strong friendships isn’t lucky to have supportive people in their life. They’ve invested time and emotional energy into those relationships.
Recognizing that we create our own fortune is ultimately more empowering than waiting for blessings. It means that we have agency. We can improve our circumstances through education, hard work, and wise decision-making. We can increase our odds of positive outcomes by taking calculated risks, learning from failures, and continuously adapting. We’re not passive recipients of divine whim but active participants in shaping our lives.
This perspective also fosters a healthier relationship with both success and failure. When things go well, we can take genuine pride in our accomplishments rather than deflecting credit to an external force. When things go poorly, we can analyze what went wrong, learn from it, and adjust our approach rather than resigning ourselves to divine will or mysterious plans we can’t understand.
It also changes how we view helping others. If blessings come from God, then poverty and suffering might be seen as part of some divine order we shouldn’t interfere with. But if we acknowledge that circumstances are largely the result of systems, choices, and random chance, we have both the permission and the responsibility to work toward more equitable outcomes. We can create opportunities for others, share resources, and build systems that distribute fortune more fairly.
The universe is indifferent to our struggles and aspirations. This might sound bleak, but it’s actually liberating. It means that our worth isn’t determined by how much divine favor we’ve received. It means that success isn’t evidence of moral superiority and failure isn’t evidence of unworthiness. It means we’re free to create meaning and purpose through our actions rather than searching for signs of cosmic approval.
We make our own luck through the accumulation of small decisions and sustained efforts. We create our fortune by showing up, learning, adapting, and persisting. And when we help others do the same, we’re not channeling divine blessings. We’re simply recognizing our shared humanity and working to ensure that luck, in all its arbitrary glory, gets distributed a little more fairly.
