Tag: Faith Over Fear

  • He Knows the Way

    He Knows the Way

    “Behold, I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him: On the left hand, where he doth work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him: But he knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold.” ~Job 23:8-10~

    At 35,000 feet, it is nearly impossible to sense how quickly an airplane is moving.

    On my return flight from San Juan, I sat in an aisle seat while nearly every window shade around me remained closed. I knew we were traveling generally north and northwest toward Atlanta, but I could not see the ocean beneath us. I could not watch the clouds pass. I could not identify a coastline, city, or landmark.

    There was no visible evidence of our speed, progress, or direction.

    From inside the darkened cabin, we could have been flying more than five hundred miles per hour or sitting completely still. Unless I looked at the flight tracker, I had no way of knowing where we were, how far we had traveled, or how much farther remained.

    Yet I was not empty-handed.

    I was returning with memories of people I love, photographs of places I had seen, roads I had walked, and lessons I did not want to forget. I carried mementos of where I had been and memories of those who had walked beside me.

    But none of them could show me the way ahead.

    There are seasons when faith feels much the same.

    We can remember what God has done before. We can look back at prayers He answered, doors He opened, and places where His hand was unmistakable. We carry photographs in our minds and testimonies in our hearts.

    But memories of yesterday do not always provide a map for tomorrow.

    Sometimes the shades are closed.

    We cannot see where we are going. We cannot sense progress. We may feel changes taking place without understanding where they are leading. Something shifts. The aircraft banks. A familiar season begins to turn, but we cannot identify the new direction.

    We know we are no longer where we were, but we have not yet arrived where we are going.

    Job understood that disorientation.

    He looked forward, but God did not appear to be there. He looked backward and could not perceive Him. He searched to the left, where he knew God was working, but could not behold Him. He looked to the right, and God remained hidden.

    Every direction Job searched seemed empty.

    Yet notice what Job said about the left hand:

    “Where he doth work.”

    Job could not see God, but he still acknowledged that God was working.

    That is faith in its most honest form. It does not pretend the window is open when it is closed. It does not deny the darkness, disguise the uncertainty, or claim to understand a route that remains hidden.

    Faith simply refuses to interpret limited visibility as divine absence.

    Job could not perceive God—but God had not lost sight of Job.

    “But he knoweth the way that I take.”

    Job did not know the way, but God did.

    Job could not see the route, but God could.

    Job could not identify his present location or understand the purpose of the journey, but heaven had not misplaced him.

    The same is true for us.

    There will be times when we cannot see what God is doing. We may not understand why a familiar path changed, why a door closed, why a season ended, or why the next destination has not yet appeared. We may feel the turn long before we understand the direction.

    But our inability to see the route never means the Pilot has lost it.

    God does not need us to understand the flight plan in order to complete it. He sees beyond the closed shade. He knows our present position, the conditions ahead, and the destination He has appointed.

    The silence does not mean He has left the cockpit.

    The darkness does not mean the aircraft has stopped moving.

    And the absence of visible landmarks does not mean we are lost.

    You may not know where this season is taking you. You may look forward, backward, left, and right without finding the answers you desperately want.

    But God knows the way that you take.

    For now, that may have to be enough.

    And faith says that it is.

    Final Word:

    When I cannot see the way ahead, I can still trust the One who already knows it.

  • Another Way In

    Another Way In

    Standing at El Morro in Old San Juan, it is difficult not to be impressed by its strength.

    For centuries, Castillo San Felipe del Morro stood guard over the entrance to San Juan Bay. Massive walls. Cannons aimed toward the sea. A commanding position overlooking the harbor.

    It was built for one purpose:

    See the enemy coming—and stop him before he gets through.

    And from the sea, El Morro was remarkably effective.

    But history teaches us something important.

    When attacking forces discovered how difficult it was to defeat San Juan through its strongest defenses, they looked for another way.

    They came from the land.

    They probed the defenses.

    They searched for the place that wasn’t as well protected.

    And our adversary hasn’t changed his strategy.

    He Doesn’t Have To Break Your Strongest Wall

    Some of us have built enormous spiritual defenses around the places where we’ve already fought battles.

    We’ve learned.

    We’ve grown.

    We’ve established boundaries.

    We’ve memorized the Scriptures.

    We’ve recognized the warning signs.

    The enemy may have attacked that wall a hundred times—and discovered that it isn’t moving.

    But don’t confuse his silence with surrender.

    If the enemy cannot get through the wall, he will start walking around it.

    Peter warned us:

    “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.” ~1 Peter 5:8~

    Notice the language.

    Walketh about. Seeking.

    The enemy isn’t merely attacking.

    He’s looking.

    Watching.

    Searching for another way in.

    Sometimes He Sends a Scout First

    An invading army doesn’t always begin with thousands of soldiers charging the wall.

    Sometimes it begins with reconnaissance.

    Something small.

    Something seemingly insignificant.

    Something that doesn’t appear threatening enough to sound the alarm.

    And spiritually, compromise often begins the same way.

    It doesn’t announce:

    I’m here to destroy your marriage.

    I’m here to ruin your testimony.

    I’m here to pull you away from God.

    Instead, it whispers:

    There’s nothing wrong with this.

    Just this once.

    You deserve this.

    Nobody will ever know.

    You’re strong enough to handle it.

    Sometimes the scout may even look friendly.

    It may speak our language.

    It may appeal to something familiar.

    It may simply ask for a little room.

    And Paul warned:

    “Neither give place to the devil.” ~Ephesians 4:27

    He doesn’t have to possess the entire fortress to begin gaining ground.

    He only needs a place.

    Where Is Your Wall Unguarded?

    That’s the uncomfortable question El Morro asks us.

    We usually know where our strongest walls are.

    But what about the places we aren’t watching?

    Maybe it’s resentment we’ve justified.

    Attention we’ve begun enjoying a little too much.

    A friendship where boundaries have slowly moved.

    Something we’re watching that we once wouldn’t have watched.

    A private thought we’ve stopped challenging.

    A disappointment with God we’ve stopped talking to Him about.

    None of those things necessarily means the fortress has fallen.

    But they may reveal something important:

    where the wall isn’t being watched.

    The enemy doesn’t need to destroy your strongest wall if you’ll leave another gate unguarded.

    Keep Watch

    Peter’s warning doesn’t end with the enemy.

    Neither should ours.

    “Whom resist stedfast in the faith…” ~1 Peter 5:9

    The answer isn’t paranoia.

    It’s vigilance.

    We don’t have to spend our lives frightened of Satan or suspicious of everyone around us.

    We simply need to remain sober.

    Watchful.

    Prayerful.

    Honest enough to recognize our vulnerabilities—and humble enough to guard them.

    El Morro didn’t survive centuries because nobody attacked it.

    It survived because somebody kept watch.

    Don’t mistake the absence of an attack for the absence of an enemy.

    The enemy may simply be walking around the wall.

    Keep watch.

  • The Tank Is Still There

    The Tank Is Still There

    “For sin shall not have dominion over you…”
    —Romans 6:14

    At the far end of Flamenco Beach on the Puerto Rican island of Culebra sits an abandoned military tank.

    For decades, portions of Culebra were used by the United States Navy for military exercises. The island’s people lived with restricted land, exploding ammunition, and the constant reminder that much of their home was controlled by someone else.

    But the people resisted.

    After years of protests and civil disobedience, military operations on Culebra ended in 1975. The land was eventually returned, the explosions stopped, and Flamenco Beach became a place where families swim, children play, and visitors rest beneath the Caribbean sun.

    But the tank is still there.

    It sits at the edge of the beach, rusting beneath layers of salt, sand, and graffiti.

    The evidence of what happened remains.

    But the authority does not.

    Near the entrance to the beach, another reminder of Culebra’s past remains.

    A posted warning tells visitors that munitions from the Navy’s former training activities may still be present—and may still be dangerous.

    The warning does not mean the military still controls the island. It means that remnants of what once controlled it should not be handled carelessly.

    That is another truth about redemption.

    Freedom does not make our former bondage safe.

    The addiction may no longer be your master, but returning to it can still destroy you.

    The relationship may no longer control your life, but reopening that door can still wound you.

    The old appetite may no longer have dominion, but that does not mean you should pick it up again just to prove that you are free.

    The sign gives visitors three instructions:

    Recognize.
    Retreat.
    Report.

    Recognize the danger for what it is.

    Retreat instead of reaching for it.

    Report it—bring it into the light before God and someone you trust.

    The past may no longer control the territory.

    But some remnants should be left exactly where grace defeated them.

    The tank once represented military occupation and control. Today, it cannot move. It cannot fire. It cannot command the beach. The waves wash around it while life continues in spite of it.

    That is a picture of redemption.

    We sometimes believe that if God has truly delivered us, every reminder of our past should disappear.

    The scars should vanish.

    The memories should stop hurting.

    The consequences should be erased.

    The places where we were wounded should look as though nothing ever happened.

    But redemption does not always remove the evidence.

    Sometimes the tank is still there.

    You may still remember what was done to you.

    You may still carry scars from choices you made.

    There may be relationships that cannot be restored, years that cannot be recovered, and consequences that grace does not immediately erase.

    The evidence may remain.

    But through Jesus Christ, it no longer has to possess the territory.

    Paul wrote, “For sin shall not have dominion over you.”

    He did not say sin had never touched them. He did not say their former lives had left no scars. He said sin would no longer have dominion—the power to rule, govern, or control them.

    Your past may explain some of your wounds, but it does not have the authority to determine your future.

    The addiction may be part of your testimony, but it is no longer your master.

    The betrayal may have changed you, but it does not get to define you.

    The failure may have left consequences, but it does not get to name you.

    The wound may still ache, but it does not own the beach.

    The tank is still there—but children play in the water beside it.

    The tank is still there—but waves continue to reach the shore.

    The tank is still there—but what once represented occupation has become nothing more than a powerless reminder of what used to be.

    That is what grace does.

    Grace does not always erase the evidence of the battle.

    Sometimes grace leaves the evidence standing so that everyone can see that what once controlled you has lost its authority.

    The past happened.

    The scars are real.

    The tank may still be there.

    But it no longer controls the beach.

  • Where Is Your Faith Anchored

    Where Is Your Faith Anchored

    “It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man.” ~ Psalm 118:8 (NKJV) ~

    Where is your faith anchored?

    It’s an easy question to answer when life is calm.

    It’s much harder to answer when someone you admire disappoints you.

    When someone you trusted walks away.

    When someone you respected falls.

    That’s when you discover what—or who—your faith has really been resting upon.

    Every time a well-known Christian leader falls…

    Social media erupts.

    Headlines spread.

    Phones buzz with text messages.

    Office conversations begin.

    Church lobbies fill with opinions.

    Some rush to defend them.

    Others rush to condemn them.

    But almost no one stops to ask the question that matters most.

    Where was my faith anchored before they fell?

    As a boy, I often heard my pastor, Rev. E. G. Bass, say something that has stayed with me for decades:

    “Put your confidence in man if you must, but put your faith only in God.”

    The older I’ve become, the more I’ve realized he was simply putting Psalm 118:8 into everyday language.

    The Bible tells us to honor faithful leaders.

    To pray for them.

    To learn from them.

    But it never tells us to build our faith upon them.

    Why?

    Because every pastor…

    Every evangelist…

    Every teacher…

    Every Christian…

    Is still a sinner in need of God’s grace.

    The Bible never hides that reality.

    Noah stumbled.

    Abraham failed.

    Moses disobeyed.

    David sinned.

    Peter denied the Lord.

    Yet the story of Scripture has never been about perfect people.

    It has always been about a perfect Savior working through imperfect people.

    So when a leader falls, our faith should not fall with them.

    Christianity was never built upon pastors.

    It was never built upon apostles.

    It was never built upon denominations.

    It was built upon Jesus Christ.

    A pastor’s failure cannot undo an empty tomb.

    A minister’s sin cannot erase the cross.

    Someone else’s unfaithfulness cannot change God’s faithfulness.

    Some who fall repent and are restored.

    Some never return.

    God’s mercy remains available.

    Whether they receive it is a choice for which they are personally responsible.

    But regardless of what anyone else chooses…

    Jesus Christ remains exactly who He has always been.

    Yesterday.

    Today.

    And forever.

    Final Word

    Love your pastor.

    Pray for your pastor.

    Be thankful for faithful spiritual leaders.

    But never ask another person to bear a weight only Christ can carry.

    As Rev. E. G. Bass used to say,

    “Put your confidence in man if you must, but put your faith only in God.”

  • Independence Day and the Kingdom That Cannot Be Shaken

    Independence Day and the Kingdom That Cannot Be Shaken

    Today America celebrates 250 years of independence.

    Two hundred fifty years.

    That is an extraordinary milestone.

    Today there will be parades, flags waving in the breeze, backyard cookouts, fireworks lighting the night sky, and families gathering to celebrate the freedoms we often take for granted.

    And we should be thankful.

    The liberties we enjoy have come at an immeasurable cost. Countless men and women have sacrificed—some giving everything—to preserve those freedoms for future generations.

    But today also serves as a reminder of another truth.

    Every nation is temporary.

    History is filled with kingdoms and empires that once seemed unshakable. They rose to greatness, shaped the world for generations, and eventually became pages in history books.

    America, as we know it, will not escape that reality.

    No nation does.

    Some look at the political division, the cultural conflict, and the uncertainty surrounding our future and wonder what lies ahead.

    As a Christian, those things concern me.

    But they do not define my hope.

    Because Scripture reminds us that God “removeth kings, and setteth up kings” (Daniel 2:21).

    Paul declared that God “hath made of one blood all nations of men… and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation” (Acts 17:26).

    God is still sovereign.

    He appoints rulers.

    He establishes nations.

    He determines their boundaries.

    He raises kingdoms up.

    And when His purposes have been fulfilled, He brings them down.

    That doesn’t mean every leader is righteous.

    It doesn’t mean every decision is wise.

    It doesn’t mean Christians stop praying, voting, serving, or standing for truth.

    It means we do those things with confidence instead of fear.

    Our hope has never rested in Washington.

    Our peace has never depended upon who occupies an office.

    Our future has never been secured by any political party.

    Our hope is found in the King whose throne has never been threatened.

    So today…

    Celebrate this nation.

    Thank God for its freedoms.

    Pray for its leaders.

    Honor those who have served.

    Work to make your community better.

    But remember that your highest citizenship is not found beneath the Stars and Stripes.

    It is found in the Kingdom of God.

    Because one day every flag will be lowered.

    Every earthly government will come to an end.

    Every nation will become part of history.

    But the Kingdom of our Lord will endure forever.

    Final Thought

    I’m grateful to be an American.

    But even more, I’m grateful to belong to a Kingdom that will never fall.

    Happy Independence Day.

    May God continue to bless America—not merely with prosperity and peace, but with hearts that humble themselves before Him.