Tag: Fear

Are you Sure you Got This?

Are you Sure you Got This?

Friends, we live in a culture that relentlessly celebrates the self-made person. From every podcast and billboard, the message is the same: “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps,” “Trust your gut,” and “You are your own hero.” This mindset, which emphasizes personal strength, control, and achievement above all else, feels like the air we breathe. It tells us that success, stability, and even happiness are entirely dependent on our hustle, our cleverness, and our capacity to manage every crisis.

But what if this powerful drive to be our own savior is, in fact, the greatest spiritual trap?

When we turn to the Scriptures, we find a story that sounds a profound and powerful warning against this very mindset—a story about a man who had everything—God’s anointing, charisma, military might—but lost it all because he chose to rely on himself instead of his God. That man was King Saul.

Saul began his reign with incredible potential, humble and strong. Yet, his ending was tragic, marked by paranoia, bitterness, and destruction. And it all began when he decided he knew better than God. His narrative is not just an ancient history lesson; it’s a timeless mirror for our own souls, showing us the dangerous allure and devastating consequence of trying to be our own savior. It’s a message of ultimate importance for anyone seeking true peace and lasting reliance.

The Warning: The Instant Folly of Self-Reliance

Saul’s spiritual downfall wasn’t a sudden, cataclysmic event; it was a slow, subtle surrender to pressure. His first majoract of disobedience, recorded in 1 Samuel 13, perfectly illustrates how self-reliance kicks in at the moment we feel most vulnerable. This story challenges us to recognize the precise moment we attempt to step into God’s role, exchanging faith for frantic action.

The Pressure Point: Fear Over Faith (1 Samuel 13:5-14)

Imagine the scene: Saul and his men are trapped in a geopolitical pressure cooker. The Philistines, a powerful and intimidating enemy, are massed in Michmash, their numbers described as being “like the sand which is on the seashore in multitude.” Saul was commanded by the prophet Samuel to wait seven days for him to arrive and offer a sacrifice to consecrate the army for battle. This was God’s specific, explicit instruction: wait for Me.

But as the days dragged on, the waiting became unbearable. The soldiers, gripped by terror, began to scatter and desert Saul’s camp. Saul looked at his dwindling resources, felt the terrifying weight of imminent collapse, and panicked. He thought, “I have to do something, or I’ll lose everything.”

The action that followed—Saul performing the priestly duty himself—was the birth of his self-reliance. He put his perceived urgent need (preserving his army and his kingdom) above God’s explicit patient command (waiting).

This is the lesson for us: Self-reliance kicks in when we feel we have to control an outcome. It’s the whisper in your mind during a financial crisis that says, “God isn’t moving fast enough; you handle this by cutting corners.” It’s the impulse when a relationship is rocky to manipulate or control the other person because you can’t trust the timing of healing or reconciliation. We exchange the powerful peace of faith for the futility and exhaustion of our own frantic action. We confuse our human deadline with God’s perfect timing. Saul’s error was believing that his immediate action could generate better results than God’s intervention.

The Deeper Cost: Disobedience Masquerading as Piety

When Samuel finally arrived and confronted Saul, Saul’s response wasn’t a humble apology; it was a complex rationalization. He essentially argued that his disobedience was a necessary good.

“I saw that the people were scattered from me, and that you did not come within the days appointed, and that the Philistines gathered themselves together at Michmash, I forced myself therefore, and offered a burnt offering” (1 Samuel 13:11-12, adapted).

Saul dressed up his blatant disobedience as a necessary religious act, trying to “compel myself to offer the burnt offering.” He tried to sanctify his frantic need for control by calling it piety. This is the deeper cost of self-reliance.

When we rely on self, we invariably rationalize our sin. We lie to ourselves: “I have to fudge these numbers to save my business.” “I have to lash out and control my children because they’ll fail otherwise.” “I have to keep overworking because God rewards effort, not rest.” We cloak our arrogance of control in the guise of good intentions, necessity, or even faith. We make excuses, but God sees the deeper issue: a lack of trust in His absolute sovereignty. Saul’s kingship was stripped from him not because he missed a date on the calendar, but because his act revealed a heart that had elevated its own judgment above the living God.

The Revelation: God Values Trust Over Talent

Saul’s second major failure, detailed in 1 Samuel 15, revealed a profound and incredibly inspiring truth about what God desires from us. This truth is deeply liberating because it takes the pressure off our performance, our impressive talents, and our personal accomplishments.

The Idol of Partial Obedience (1 Samuel 15)

In this second scenario, God gave Saul a clear, black-and-white command: wage war against the Amalekites and utterly destroy everything—people, livestock, and goods. This was a judgment rooted in history, and the command was absolute.

Saul went, fought, and won. But instead of executing the command fully, he spared Agag, the Amalekite king, and the best of the sheep and cattle. When confronted by Samuel, Saul offered the same tired defense:

“The troops took sheep and oxen, the best of the things devoted to destruction, to sacrifice to the Lord your God in Gilgal” (1 Samuel 15:21).

Saul thought his military success and his “good” idea of a superior sacrifice would compensate for his disobedience. He thought his talent as a general and his generous offering could somehow improve upon God’s will. He substituted God’s command with his own human judgment, relying on his impressive works and resources to cover his lack of simple trust.

The lie here is that partial obedience is just disobedience with a good excuse. By saving the best, Saul was building an idol to his own talent: “I won the war, and now I’ll use my superior wisdom to manage the spoils.” He was attempting to edit the Creator’s script.

The Inspired Priority: “To Obey is Better than Sacrifice”

When Samuel finally confronted Saul, he declared one of the most eternal and powerful truths in Scripture:

“Has the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams. For rebellion is as the sin of divination, and arrogance is as iniquity and idolatry” (1 Samuel 15:22-23).

This passage is a stunning revelation and an incredibly inspiring message for all of us struggling with performance anxiety and self-reliance. It tells us that God doesn’t need our impressive plans, our superior resources, or our self-generated achievements. He doesn’t need your perfect business plan, your massive bank account, or your flawless reputation. He doesn’t need the “best of the sheep” that you stole from His plan.

What God desires is our simple, humble reliance and trust.

It is liberating to know that our greatest gift to God is not a performance we have to strive for, but the simple, beautiful act of obedience—submission to His will. Saul’s talent couldn’t save him from his fate; our quiet, daily obedience can save us from the exhaustion of constantly trying to be better than God. Our performance matters far less than our position of dependence. This shifts the focus from our competence to God’s, and that is where true peace lies.

The Path Forward: Choosing Dependence Over Dominance

The story of Saul doesn’t have to be our story. The opposite of self-reliance isn’t weakness; it’s a powerful, liberating dependence that leads to true, sustainable strength.

The Remedy for Arrogance: Humility

Samuel called Saul’s rebellion a sin like “arrogance like the evil of idolatry” (1 Samuel 15:23). Why is self-reliance likened to idolatry? Because when we rely solely on self, we effectively make ourselves the idol. We transfer the attributes of omnipresence, omniscience, and omnipotence from God to our own capacity for control. We believe we are the source, the resource, and the ultimate savior of our own lives. This is spiritual narcissism.

The path out of this spiritual dead-end is not a path of greater striving, but a path of radical surrender. It is the simple, honest, and profoundly encouraging acknowledgment that “I can’t. I don’t know. I’m not enough. But God can.” This acknowledgement is not weakness; it is the genesis of all true power. Humility is simply accepting your role as the dependent creature and resting in the knowledge of the all-sufficient Creator. It’s the ultimate step out of exhaustion and into freedom.

Trusting God’s Provision, Not Our Plan

Saul’s mistake was constantly believing his resources—his army, his judgment, his stolen cattle—were his source of power. He was always looking inward or outward to his possessions, never upward to his Provider.

When we feel the pressure to control, to manipulate, or to race ahead of God’s timing, it’s a sign that we’ve forgotten that God is the source of all provision, protection, and wisdom. We don’t have to strive for control over our circumstances; we only have to trust His competence over our own.

This looks like:

  1. Pausing before Acting: When anxiety demands an immediate, frantic response, pause, pray, and ask, “Is this action based on faith or fear?”
  2. Laying Down the Crown: Regularly placing the weight of your worries—finances, relationships, health—at the foot of the cross.
  3. Seeking First: Prioritizing prayer, quiet meditation, and the study of the Scriptures before you prioritize work, endless consumption, or networking.

When we lean into God’s competence, He gives us peace that surpasses understanding and directs our steps toward His perfect, unfailing plan.

A Word from Our Savior

Saul’s tragedy was believing he could manage life better than God. He tried to save his own kingdom through his own efforts, his own disobedience, and his own partial obedience, and he lost it all.

The message for us, the ultimate antidote to the spiritual trap of self-reliance, comes directly from the gentle teaching of our Lord Jesus Christ. Saul’s self-talk was, “I can do it.” Jesus’ invitation to us is a radically different one: “Come to Me.”

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus speaks directly to our worries—the very things that drive our self-reliance: our food, our clothing, our future. He confronts our panicked striving head-on:

“Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’… But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you” (Matthew 6:31, 33).

Jesus invites us to lay down the exhausting, fruitless burden of trying to be our own god, our own provider, and our own savior. He calls us to a radical, liberating dependence. The man who truly “has this” isn’t the one running the fastest or controlling the most variables. The one who “has this” is the one who has fully surrendered the desire to control and has simply handed the reins back to the Creator.

Let’s step out of Saul’s shadow and step into the light of Christ’s promise: True strength, true peace, and true provision are found only when we stop trying to do it ourselves and simply trust Him to do it through us.

Remember

Remember

When challenges mount and fears loom large in the whirlwind of life, it’s easy to feel adrift, as if we’re facing insurmountable odds alone. The weight of present troubles can obscure our vision, making us forget the very source of our strength and hope. Yet, the ancient words of King David in Psalm 27:1-6 offer a profound antidote to this despair: “Remember.”

David, a man intimately acquainted with adversity – from facing giants and fleeing a jealous king to enduring betrayal and war – begins this psalm not with a lament, but with a resounding declaration of confidence: “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1). This isn’t a naive optimism, but a battle-tested faith rooted in memory.

David’s confidence isn’t abstract; it’s grounded in his past experiences. He recalls, “When evildoers came against me to devour my flesh, my foes and my enemies stumbled and fell” (Psalm 27:2). He had seen God’s hand move, time and again, turning the tide against seemingly overwhelming forces. It’s in these moments of divine intervention, these countless deliverances from troubles that seemed impossible to overcome, that we find a powerful testament to God’s existence and His active interaction in our lives.

Think about it: can any person truly navigate the “numerous obstacles” of life – the unexpected illnesses, the crushing losses, the sudden betrayals, the financial ruin – without some form of support? While human support is vital, there are moments when only a divine hand can provide the light in the deepest darkness, the salvation from utter despair, and the stronghold against forces that would otherwise consume us. When we look back at our own lives, at the times we somehow made it through, when a door opened unexpectedly, when peace settled in the midst of chaos, or when strength appeared from nowhere, we are witnessing God’s faithfulness. These are not mere coincidences; they are echoes of His promise, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

David’s life was a tapestry woven with such divine interventions. Before he ever wore a crown, as a young shepherd boy, he faced beasts that threatened his flock. He didn’t just survive; he conquered. He remembered how God enabled him to rescue his lambs from the jaws of a lion and a bear (1 Samuel 17:34-37). These weren’t minor skirmishes; they were life-or-death struggles where a shepherd boy, armed with only a staff and sling, triumphed over formidable predators.

And then came the ultimate test: Goliath, the Philistine giant, defying the armies of Israel. While seasoned warriors trembled, young David, fueled by the memory of God’s past faithfulness, stepped forward. He declared, “The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine” (1 Samuel 17:37). His victory over Goliath was not merely a physical feat; it was a profound act of faith, born from a deep well of remembered deliverances.

David’s reflection in Psalm 27 was likely not about one isolated occurrence, but about journeying through the halls of his memory, recalling each instance of God’s powerful intervention. This process wasn’t just nostalgic; it was an act of worship. Each recalled victory became a fresh reason to honor God with praise, solidifying his confidence that the God who had been faithful in the past would surely be faithful in the present and future. This constant act of remembering and praising transformed his past struggles into pillars of present strength, allowing him to declare with conviction, “Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war rise up against me, yet I will be confident” (Psalm 27:3).

This divine support is not just about external rescue; it’s also about internal transformation. The Apostle Paul reminds us in 2 Timothy 1:7, “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” This verse beautifully complements David’s fearless stance. When we remember God’s faithfulness, we are empowered to overcome the spirit of fear that seeks to paralyze us. We receive a spirit of power, enabling us to face challenges with courage; a spirit of love, allowing us to respond with compassion even in difficult circumstances; and a sound mind, granting us clarity and wisdom when confusion reigns. This inner fortitude is itself a profound deliverance, a testament to God’s ongoing work within us.

It’s tempting to wish away our troubles, to pray for their immediate removal. But some of life’s most profound growth happens not by avoiding the storm, but by learning to lean into it, trusting that God is present and purposeful in the midst of it. David’s psalm isn’t just about escaping trouble; it is about finding God in trouble. His “one thing” was not freedom from enemies, but to “dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple” (Psalm 27:4). He sought intimacy with God despite the surrounding chaos.

When we choose to lean into our trials, when we consciously seek God’s presence and wisdom within the difficulty, we allow Him to refine us. It’s in the crucible of adversity that our faith is tested and strengthened, like gold purified by fire.We learn resilience, patience, and a deeper reliance on God than we ever thought possible. The very things that threaten to break us can, with God’s divine support, become the tools He uses to build us into stronger, more compassionate, and more faithful individuals. We grow not just through the trials, but because of them, as God uses them to shape our character and deepen our understanding of His unwavering faithfulness.

So, when the “army” encamps against you, and “war rises up,” take a moment to pause. Remember. Remember the countless times God has been your light, your salvation, your stronghold. Remember the unseen hand that guided you, the peace that sustained you, the strength that appeared when you had none left. These memories are not just personal anecdotes; they are evidence of a living, interacting God.

Let the spirit of power, love, and a sound mind replace the spirit of fear. And as you lean into the present challenge, trust that the same God who delivered you before is actively working to grow you now. For in remembering His faithfulness, we find not just hope for today, but an unshakeable confidence for all our tomorrows.

Insidious Erosion

Insidious Erosion

Worldliness Weakens the People of God

We often think of ‘worldliness’ as being involved in the things of this world or following current trends. However, the Bible gives it a deeper meaning. Look at the story in Judges 6-8, specifically how the Midianites first oppressed Israel. We see that ‘worldliness’ in a biblical sense is really about living as if God doesn’t matter. This godlessness is like a sneaky power that makes God’s people weak.

Biblical worldliness is not simply about geographical or social diversity, nor does it imply God’s absence from creation. Instead, it denotes a disposition of the heart and a pattern of behavior that prioritizes values and pursuits antithetical to God’s will. Its core tenets revolve around self-preservation, the fleeting approval of the masses, and the gratification of immediate desires, often at the expense of moral integrity and divine obedience. This orientation starkly contrasts a life centered on God’s principles and purposes. The assertion that following the trajectory of the masses often leads away from God’s path resonates deeply within scripture, echoing warnings against conformity to worldly patterns (Romans 12:2).

The opening verses of Judges 6 provide a compelling illustration of this principle in action: “The Israelites did evil in the eyes of the Lord, and for seven years he gave them into the hands of the Midianites. Because the power of Midian was so oppressive, the Israelites prepared shelters for themselves in mountain clefts, caves and strongholds” (Judges 6:1-2, NIV). The causal link established here is crucial. Israel’s transgression, their turning away from God’s commands – their embrace of the “worldliness” of the surrounding idolatrous nations, characterized by self-obsession and pleasure-seeking – directly resulted in their subjugation. Their spiritual compromise manifested as a tangible weakening, leaving them vulnerable to the oppressive power of the Midianites.

The subsequent verses meticulously detail the consequences of this spiritual erosion, revealing a state of profound weakness. As highlighted, the Israelites’ need to seek refuge in “mountain clefts, caves and strongholds” underscores their inability to openly inhabit and defend their land. This act of hiding speaks volumes about their diminished physical and military capacity. Fear had become their dominant posture, a direct consequence of their departure from the protective embrace of God’s covenant.

Furthermore, Judges 6:6 states, “When Israel became poor because of Midian, the Israelites cried out to the LORD.” This economic devastation was not arbitrary; it was a direct outcome of the Midianites’ unchecked plundering. The Israelites’ inability to safeguard their resources points to a significant weakening of their societal structures and their capacity for resistance. Their wealth, a potential source of strength and stability, was systematically stripped away by an oppressor emboldened by their victim’s compromised state.

Gideon’s actions in Judges 6:11 further illuminate this pervasive weakness. His clandestine threshing of wheat in a winepress, a space ill-suited for such activity, reveals a man gripped by fear and operating under the shadow of Midianite dominance. This act of hiding essential sustenance underscores the vulnerability of the entire nation, unable to secure even their basic needs without fear of reprisal. The implication is clear: a people entangled in worldliness lose not only their spiritual vitality but also their practical ability to thrive and defend themselves.

Finally, Gideon’s poignant assessment of his clan as “the weakest in Manasseh” and himself as “the least in my family” (Judges 6:15) offers another layer of understanding. While it directly addresses social standing, it can be reasonably interpreted as reflecting a broader reality of diminished power and influence within the Israelite community. A nation that has strayed from its spiritual moorings often experiences a corresponding decline in its social cohesion and collective strength. In the face of a formidable oppressor, even the perceived strength of individual families and clans erodes.

In conclusion, the narrative of Israel’s subjugation by the Midianites in Judges 6-8 serves as a potent reminder of the debilitating effects of worldliness, understood as a departure from God’s ways. The Israelites’ embrace of the values and behaviors of the surrounding godless nations led not only to spiritual alienation but also to tangible physical and economic weakness. They became a people living in fear, impoverished, and vulnerable. This passage underscores a timeless truth: when the people of God prioritize the fleeting allure of the world over the enduring principles of their Creator, they inevitably invite a weakening that renders them susceptible to the forces that stand against God’s purposes. The story serves as both a warning and a call to vigilance, urging believers to resist the insidious erosion of worldliness and to anchor their lives firmly in the strength and security found only in faithful obedience to God.