Category Archives: Extra Thoughts

Aliens Cannot Disagree With the Bible

The cultural tide is turning right now. The United States agencies are beginning releasing government files on UFOs, UAPs, and potential extraterrestrial life. More unexplained incidents that cannot be classified as modern human technology will soon enter the public conversation. Many people — even Christians — will feel unsettled.

Satan, who holds the whole world in his sway (1 John 5:19), will not miss this moment. His endgame has always been to attack the exclusive lordship of Jesus Christ. Expect a new rhetoric to spread: “Jesus was an alien — one of several powerful star lords from across the galaxy.” Then will come claims of a new “star lord” or ascended being arriving with fresh revelations for humanity. Its the same game the same trick, over and over. We know how the evil one works.

This is not new revelation. It is ancient idolatry wearing a sci-fi costume.

We already have documented cases of people (see creation.com) — many of them atheists or agnostics — experiencing what they call alien abductions. In their final desperation they cried out, “Jesus, help me!” and the experience stopped instantly. Some of those people later became Christians. Why would beings from another planet respect and flee at the name of a Jesus Christ? The answer is obvious: because they are not extraterrestrials. They are demonic entities.

Most reported experiences come from degraded minds, fear, drugs, or advanced human technology. But a genuine subset is demonic. As Paul wrote, when people sacrifice to idols they are actually sacrificing to demons (1 Corinthians 10:20). When men give themselves over to the obsession of seeking “higher beings,” “star people,” or alien contact, they are not innocently curious. They are ramming a bulldozer through the front door of their soul and exposing themselves completely to demonic harassment.

Remember Moses and Pharaoh’s magicians. Those pagan sorcerers performed real supernatural acts — their staffs really became snakes. The Bible says so. The power was genuine, but limited, demonic, and ultimately powerless before the true God. The same limit applies today. Demonic manifestations can produce lights in the sky, fast-moving objects, and strange encounters — but they collapse before the name and authority of Jesus Christ, because He has already triumphed over them (Colossians 2:15).

Demons love this game. Show the stupid humans some shiny lights and unnatural motion and they chase the distraction instead of the Creator. Satan is playing with humans like a human plays with a cat using a laser pointer.

The Theological Reality

Could intelligent extraterrestrial life exist somewhere? Theologically it is possible — God could have created it. But it is highly, highly unlikely, and even if it did exist it would have zero relevance to us. Why? Because Scripture declares that all things are summed up in Jesus Christ (Ephesians 1:10). Humanity, created in God’s image and redeemed by the blood of the eternal Son, is the pinnacle of creation. The incarnation, the cross, and the resurrection happened here, for us. Unless the Bible itself tells us something is summed up in Christ or has direct bearing on His redemptive work, it is ultimately irrelevant to the Christian life and worldview.

Jesus is not “one of the star lords.” He is the Logos — the eternal Reason and Creator through whom all things were made and in whom all things hold together (John 1:1-3; Colossians 1:16-17). Any narrative that reduces Him to one being among many is already false on its face.

The Real Refutation: Presuppositional Collapse

But here is where the discussion becomes simple — almost boringly straightforward for anyone who understands biblical apologetics.

The same fatal flaw that destroys every anti-Christian worldview destroys the entire alien/star-lord mythology before it can even get off the ground.

All things necessary for intelligence only converge in the Christian worldview. Knowledge, logic, categories of thought.

When the mind looks at a scene — whether lights in the sky, supposed alien craft, or claims of new spiritual teachers — it does more than receive raw impressions. It interprets using concepts such as contradiction, identity, difference, number, relation, time, and cause (etc.). All these concepts are necessary in order to have intelligence about anything.  A first principle that does not give us knowledge and justify these, does not make intelligence possible. Starting points such as empiricism and materialism, and naturalism, or any worldview with any reliance on empiricism at all cannot justify these things that we must have in order to think and say something with meaning.

“First, the categories of thought that make intelligence itself possible. To even formulate or argue this theory, one must employ fundamental categories: identity and difference (distinguishing “Jesus” from other supposed lords), cause and effect (claiming His name causes the entities to flee), unity and plurality (a cosmic hierarchy of multiple powers), substance and attribute, time, relation, and number. These are not learned from experience—whether from abduction reports, UFO videos, or ancient astronaut theories. They are the logical preconditions for any meaningful experience whatsoever.

How could anyone “learn” causality by observing sequences of alleged alien events unless he already assumed that every event must have a cause? The empiricist pushing “evidence-based” alien-Jesus speculation is caught in hopeless circularity: he uses the category of cause to justify the category of cause. The rationalist who tries to reason his way to a polytheistic star-lord federation without biblical revelation fares no better—his innate ideas float in mid-air with no ontological anchor. Only the biblical God, whose mind is the source of all rational order, provides that foundation.

Second, science—the great idol of modern unbelief. Every interpretation of “aliens traveling interstellar distances,” “consistent abduction patterns,” or “Jesus operating within discoverable cosmic rules” secretly assumes the uniformity of nature: that the future will resemble the past, and that the laws observed today will hold tomorrow across the universe. Yet no amount of past observation can guarantee future uniformity on naturalistic, evolutionary, or multi-lord grounds. David Hume saw the problem centuries ago and despaired. Bertrand Russell admitted that science rests on a “postulate” it cannot prove.

The unbeliever nevertheless proceeds as if induction is reliable. Why? Because he is stealing from the Bible—which declares he is wrong and that only its revelation is true. Scripture alone grounds the uniformity of nature in the faithful providence of the one sovereign Creator (Colossians 1:17). Your “Star lords” theory offers no such guarantee; it secretly borrows rationality from the very worldview it attacks.

Third, the fatal flaw in probability arguments. When unbelievers say the biblical resurrection or miracles are “highly improbable” if Jesus were merely an advanced extraterrestrial, or that a hierarchy of Star lords is “more likely given the size of the universe,” they commit a devastating epistemological error. To calculate any probability, one must know the complete denominator—the full, overarching set of all relevant possibilities. Finite humans do not and cannot possess that exhaustive knowledge. If they somehow already knew the denominator, they would possess knowledge far greater than what their observations provide, rendering the entire appeal to probability irrelevant. Their calculations are therefore not science but prejudice dressed up as numbers.

Fourth, the active interpreting mind. When the mind looks at a report of strange lights, beings, or an abduction that halts at the name of Jesus, it does more than receive raw impressions. It actively interprets the scene using concepts such as identity, difference, number, relation, time, and cause—categories that are logically prior to experience, not derived from it. A child tracking a ball flying through the air already employs time and continuity to follow its motion from one moment to the next. Without these, there is no “motion,” no “through the air,” no coherent sequence—only a disconnected blur of sensations that cannot even be called a blur. When the same mind declares that “the name of Jesus stopped the entity,” it invokes causality and relation. To recognize any pattern at all—let alone a cosmic federation of Star lords—requires identity through time and rules for connecting one case with another. The alien theory cannot account for why these interpretations correspond to reality rather than demonic deception or hallucination. Only revelation from the God who created both the mind and the world in perfect correspondence provides that.

In the end, this entire hypothesis saws off the branch it sits on. It depends at every point on the Christian worldview for its intelligibility while reducing the eternal Creator and Ruler of heaven and earth (Acts 17:24) to one creature among many. It is self-refuting speculative philosophy of the worst kind.”[1]

Logic: Where does the unbeliever (or the new-age star-lord enthusiast) get the laws of logic he uses to argue for aliens or against the exclusivity of Christ? From the eternal Logos — the Lord Jesus Christ Himself (John 1:1; Colossians 2:3), in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. He is not one “star lord” among many. He is the eternal Reason by which all things were created and by which all things hold together.

Science itself — the great hope of those searching for extraterrestrial life — fares no better on non-Christian grounds. Every search for aliens assumes induction: that the future will resemble the past and that laws observed here apply universally. Naturalism cannot justify this. Only the God of Scripture, who faithfully sustains creation, can. The person who says, “Aliens prove the Bible is incomplete or that Jesus is just one being among many” has already stolen the very tools that only the Christian worldview can account for. On his own assumptions, logic is just brain chemistry, categories of thought are evolutionary byproducts or social constructs, and knowledge is impossible. Yet he continues to use them as if they were universal and necessary.

He is like the man who says, “I disagree with the law of non-contradiction” while using that very law to disagree. Or the fish trying to prove the ocean doesn’t exist while swimming in it.

There is no possible world — real or imaginary — where a coherent argument against biblical Christianity can be made, whether from philosophy, science, or supposed alien revelation. All reasoning presupposes the Triune God of Scripture.

God’s revelation in the Bible is the first principle and necessary starting point for all knowledge. Subjects and predicates, logic, truth, and intelligence itself are defined by God’s mind, decree, and Word. As 2 Timothy 3:16-17 declares, all Scripture is God-breathed, equipping us for every good work — including the work of thinking clearly about lights in the sky and spiritual deceptions.

Jesus Christ is the Logos. The law of non-contradiction flows from God’s unchanging character. In Him all things consist. Any “new revelation” from a so-called star lord that contradicts the Bible is immediately exposed as false, because the Bible says it is true and all others are false. It needs no permission from human reason, government disclosures, or demonic manifestations.

Philosophy cannot disagree with the Bible. 

Science cannot disagree with the Bible. 

And supposed aliens or new star lords certainly cannot disagree with the Bible without using it. But the bible they are using says it alone is true and all others are false by logical exclusion (See Vincent Cheung. Captive to Reason pg. 44. 2005/2009.)

This is why apologetics is boring in a sense. All anti-Christinas have the same dumb human speculation and illogical superstition. Our apologetic is always the same: divine revelation. Thus our answer and attack is always the same.

[1]  Paraphrased summaries (adapted to present topic of aliens) and informed by Vincent Cheung’s ‘Paul and the Philosophers’ (2025) and his other works on biblical apologetics” See His works for more.”

Philosophy Cannot Disagree With the Bible

Someone asked: “Why does philosophy disagree with the Bible?” 

Simple answer: It doesn’t. It can’t. 

Imagine trying to argue that “2 + 2 = 5” while using math that only works if 2 + 2 really equals 4. You’d be using the very rule you’re denying. That’s silly, right? The contradiction sits there naked, impossible to hide.

That’s exactly what happens when someone says, “Philosophy disagrees with the Bible.” It’s like the moron who says, “I disagree with the law of non-contradiction.” They use the thing they claim to disagree with to make their disagreement possible in the first place. The very sentence they utter borrows the logic they pretend to reject.

People sometimes ask, “Why does philosophy disagree with the Bible?” But here’s the truth: it can’t. There is no possible world—real or imaginary—where true philosophy stands apart from Scripture. And the reason is simple: the Bible isn’t just part of philosophy; it is the foundation of all philosophy.

To argue against the Scripture, the unbeliever must employ logic, reason, and coherence. Yet, on his own secular, materialistic assumptions, universal and immaterial laws of logic cannot be justified. He is forced to borrow from the Christian worldview—where logic is grounded in the infallible mind of God—in order to construct an argument against God.

The unbeliever who says, “Philosophy shows the Bible is wrong,” has already borrowed the very tools that only the Christian worldview can justify. Where does he get the laws of logic? From the mind of the Logos, the eternal Reason who is Christ (John 1:1, Colossians 2:3). Where does he get the uniformity of nature that allows him to reason from cause to effect? From the sovereign God who “upholds all things by the word of His power” (Hebrews 1:3). Where does he get the moral indignation to accuse the Bible of injustice? From the image of God stamped upon his soul, which he suppresses in unrighteousness (Romans 1:18-21). Where does he the concepts of time and the law of identity? He cannot even open his mouth to object without standing on ground that belongs to the Triune God of Scripture.

Where does he get such laws? If his worldview is materialistic, logic is nothing but electrochemical fizz in the brain—contingent, local, and changeable. If his worldview is evolutionary, logic is a survival mechanism that might have been otherwise. If his worldview is pluralistic or postmodern, logic is a social construct. In every case the laws lose their necessity and universality. Yet he continues to use them as if they were eternal and absolute. He steals from the Christian worldview, where logic is the reflection of the mind of the eternal Logos, the Lord Jesus Christ, “in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Colossians 2:3). Without the Christian God, logic collapses into absurdity. The unbeliever cannot even deny God without first affirming the very rationality that only God supplies.

Next, the categories of thought that make intelligence possible. Identity and difference, cause and effect, unity and plurality, substance and attribute—these are not learned from experience. They are the preconditions for experience. How could anyone “learn” causality by observing sequences of events unless he already assumed that every event must have a cause? The empiricist is caught in hopeless circularity: he uses the category of cause to justify the category of cause. The rationalist without revelation fares no better; his innate ideas float in mid-air with no ontological anchor.

Science, the great idol of modern unbelief, fares no better. Every experiment assumes the uniformity of nature—that the future will resemble the past, that the laws observed today will hold tomorrow. Yet no amount of past observation can guarantee future uniformity on naturalistic grounds. David Hume saw the problem centuries ago and despaired. Bertrand Russell admitted that science rests on a “postulate” it cannot prove. The unbeliever nevertheless proceeds as if induction is reliable. Why? Because steals from the bible, which says he is wrong and only it is true.

When unbelievers use probability as a path to truth (such as dismissing the resurrection as “highly improbable”), Vincent Cheung points out a fatal flaw (see “Paul and the Philosophers” and his other apologetic works. These have helped me understand some of these forementioned points above.). To calculate probability, one must know the “denominator”—the complete, overarching set of all relevant possibilities. If you lack comprehensive knowledge, you cannot establish that denominator. If you somehow already knew the denominator, you would possess knowledge far greater than what the specific experiment or observation offers, rendering the experiment irrelevant.

“When the mind looks at a scene, it does more than receive raw impressions. It interprets using concepts such as identity, difference, number, relation, time, and cause. These are not derived from experience; they are logically prior to it. A child tracking a ball flying through the air already employs time and continuity to follow its motion from one moment to the next. Without these categories, there is no “motion,” no “through the air,” no coherent sequence—only a disconnected blur of sensations that cannot even be called a blur. When the same child declares that the ball broke the window, he invokes causality. To recognize any pattern at all requires identity through time and rules for connecting one case with another.” (A paraphrased summary from “Paul and the Philosophers.” Vincent Cheung.)

In Systematic Theology 2025 I explain that God’s revelation is the first principle of all knowledge—the starting point for everything we can know or think. All the things necessary for any intelligence only converge in the biblical worldview. You can’t even get to logic, truth, or intelligence unless God reveals Himself. Revelation is not one option among many; it is the necessary ground beneath every thought we think. Without this divine starting point, every claim collapses into skepticism, because there is nothing left to justify why your thoughts should match reality at all.

This is why I stress the first principle of Scripture for all public knowledge and the method of it being self-authenticating for apologetics. The Bible doesn’t need permission from human reason to have knowledge. Rather, subjects and predicates get their definition from God’s Mind, decree and revelation. And His nature is revealed in His Word. As 2 Timothy 3:16-17 declares with divine authority, “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.” That “every good work” includes the work of thinking, reasoning, and building a coherent worldview.

The Bible isn’t just a book about ethics. It is the very definition of systematic philosophy. It tells us where truth comes from, who God is, what logic is, and how to think straight. Jesus Himself is called the Logos— He is the law of contradiction and naturally used this thinking motion to create the universe (John 1:1). “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.” This is no mere metaphor. The eternal Son is the wisdom or reason or logic. Colossians 2:3 adds that in Christ “are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” The law of non-contradiction? It comes from God’s unchanging character; meaning, the law of contradiction is simply one of the eternal constant motions of God’s thinking. You can’t throw that law out the window and still have a conversation that makes sense, because without it language dissolves into gibberish and thought becomes impossible.

So when a person tries to use reason to attack the Bible, they are actually standing on the Bible’s own foundation to do it. They borrow God’s rules of thinking and intelligence while claiming God’s rules are false. That’s not clever—it’s impossible. There is no reality where this works. It’s like a fish trying to prove the ocean doesn’t exist while swimming in it. Talk about an intellectual own-goal: flapping around in denial while the very medium that makes flapping possible laughs at the absurdity.

Every true philosopher must begin with scripture. Anyone who doesn’t, is not really philosophizing—they’re just daydreaming with big words.

Most people think of philosophy as a neutral playground where we decide what is true. That’s a dumb mistake. There is no neutral ground. To “disagree” with the Bible using philosophy is like trying to use the rules of mathematics to prove that numbers don’t exist. It’s a personal malfunction and not actual philosophy, because you’re denying the very foundation of your own thoughts. Men can come together and pretend to have a philosophy, but that’s all it is—men in a mental delusion. There was never any philosophy; they only pretended. But it only takes one person to stop pretending and the game is up. I will be the person. I will not pretend with them.

Philosophy cannot question the Bible without ceasing to be philosophy. Philosophy only starts with the Bible, because the bible says so. You also must start with the bible so that your questions have intelligence. If you reject the Word of God, you lose the right to claim that anything is knowledge and that anything you say has any intelligence.

Stop trying to find knowledge from the outside looking in. Step into the Light, and you’ll realize the Light was what allowed you to see the path all along. Wisdom only begins with God. Intelligence ends at any disagreement with God.

So here’s the bottom line: A philosopher who rejects Scripture has already rejected the foundation of philosophy itself. They were never a philosopher. They only pretend to be one.

You can pretend to disagree with Scripture, but you can’t form a logical disagreement without first borrowing the very tools—logic, truth, coherence, intelligence, knowledge, subject and predicates—that only come from God’s revelation. That’s why Scripture never trembles before human questioning. It stands firm because it is the mind of God revealed. As 1 Corinthians 2:16 asks, “For who has known the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him?” Yet we have the mind of Christ.

When we align our thinking with Scripture, we aren’t limiting ourselves—we’re finally standing on the only solid ground for the pursuit of wisdom and intelligence. In a world of shifting sands and human opinion, the Word of God remains the rock that cannot be shaken. Let all who seek truth come here, bow before the King of kings, and find the true beginning of philosophy—not as man’s invention, but as God’s gift to those who fear Him.

Let God’s sovereignty be a foundation for more and more healings and miracles. Let His Word be our theology, our doxology, and our apologetic. 

Endnote: “This presentation has been informed by Vincent Cheung’s ‘Paul and the Philosophers’ (2025) and his other works on biblical apologetics.” See His works for more.”

What You Will

John 15:7 packs a divine punch: “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you will, and it shall be done for you.” The main point here is simple, yet it slices through centuries of theological fog like a hot knife through butter. When men scream, “if God wills,” regarding answers to prayer, Jesus—or God, that is—screams the contradiction to this. Jesus says, ask whatever “you will,” and it will be done. When men focus on God’s will, Jesus focuses on our will. This is the Jesus we pray to. He is asking for your will, and He will do it. This is why the “if it is God’s will” focus is a scam. The faith and prayer dogma Jesus taught was about man’s will, not God’s. He said, “What do you want me to do for you?” Yet, the faithless focus on the contradiction to Jesus’ teaching by saying, “What can we do for God?” Jesus’ gospel gives to us; we do not give to Him. This is why His focus is on our will—because from the Garden to Abraham to the gospel being finished, it forces a worldview where God is the one who gives to us and not us to Him. In a world where the gospel has already been accomplished—in a reality where God gives to man, not man to God—Jesus says, “What is your will? Tell Me about it, and I will do it.”

Contrast this with the timid traditions that twist prayer into a guessing game, hedging every request with “if it be Thy will,” as if God were some cosmic bureaucrat withholding stamps of approval. Jesus flips that script entirely—He spotlights the believer’s desire, not divine reluctance. Blind Bartimaeus didn’t mumble about sovereignty; he shouted his will for sight, and Jesus asked, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:51). The faithless flip it to “What can we do for God?”—a pious dodge that ignores the gospel’s core: God lavishes on us, from Eden’s abundance where He strolled as Provider, to Abraham’s blockbuster covenant of stars and land (Genesis 15:1-6), sealed in blood as an unbreakable yes through Christ (2 Corinthians 1:20). Abraham didn’t earn it by groveling; he believed God’s giving nature, and it was credited as righteousness. The cross finishes this: Jesus absorbs our curse so we inherit the goodies (Galatians 3:13-14). Yet the doubters peddle a scam, fixating on “God’s mysterious will” like it’s a shield for unbelief, denying the Spirit’s miracles and baptism as outdated relics.

The faithless build walls of “what if,” fearing to impose on God, while Jesus urges imposition: “Whatever you ask in my name, I will do it” (John 14:13-14). Their worldview starves on self-serving scraps; ours feasts on Abraham’s excess, where God swears by Himself to overflow us with favor, healing, and fruitfulness.

Jesus’ gospel is one-directional: It is God giving to us, not us giving to Him. From the very first moment in the Garden, God is the sole Giver—walking with Adam, freely bestowing paradise, life, dominion, and fellowship without Adam contributing anything. When that original giving was lost, God immediately promised a coming Seed who would crush the serpent and restore.

Centuries later, He appeared to Abraham and unilaterally swore by His own name to give him land, innumerable descendants, blessing, fame, and an everlasting covenant—Abraham’s only role was to believe and receive. God gave to Abraham the blessing; the only thing Abraham gave was the faith to receive. And even in the testing, when God asked Abraham to give up his only son, it was an illustration that God was not finished giving, because He was going to provide and give His only Son for man. Even the test was a point about God giving to man and not man to God. God gave to Abraham an exceedingly great reward and then made a point to say, “I’m not done giving; I will be giving my only Son as well.” The only thing Abraham gave, was agreeing with God that God will be faithful to give all the good things He promised.

On this topic, King David has this question: What should I do to repay God? His response was to renew his vows and to take up the cup of salvation. The cup of salvation is all about God delivering and blessing David. So even on the direct topic about what David can give God, it was mostly about agreeing and praising God that He is the one who gives good things to David, not David giving to God.

Every subsequent covenant, every prophetic promise, every miracle, and finally the finished work of the cross and resurrection maintain the same unbreakable pattern: God is the Giver, man is the receiver. The atonement does not end with Jesus taking our sin; it climaxes with Him imparting His righteousness, His healing, His peace, His Spirit, His authority, and His inheritance to us. This sweeping redemptive history forces a non-negotiable worldview: God is always the fountain, and we are always the open hands.

Jesus, being consistent with this worldview God established, does not ask us what we can offer Him; He asks us what we desire so that He may give it. “What do you want Me to do for you?” is not a polite formality—it is the natural, inevitable question that flows from a finished gospel that gives to us, not us to God. When He says “ask whatever you will,” He is continuing the same unstoppable worldview: God gives, man receives. In this world where God has already given in the gospel, Jesus asks us what we want, what is our will, and He will do it. He invites us to name what we want Him to give next. God isn’t running a cosmic tit-for-tat; He’s handing out inheritance to heirs who believe and ask. When God focuses on your will, He’s being faithful to His worldview that His nature and promise established from Eden to Jesus’ finished atonement.

What is your will? Abide in Him and tell God about it. God wants to bless your will.

Shout Your Prayers From The Rooftops

By Oshea Davis 

January 25, 2026 

I heard an interesting one from a Christian gathering the other day: someone says, “I don’t want to pray out loud—might tip off the devil.” That’s like hiding your flashlight because you’re scared the dark might figure out you’re dispelling it. Well, that’s the whole point, right? As John 1 tells us, the light shines and the darkness does not understand it and cannot overcome it; rather, the light overcomes and pushes away the darkness. This is applicable to both the intellectual aspect as God’s revealed truth and logic is not understood by dark stupidity and blindness. And it refers to power. The light overpowers the darkness. Jesus is the endless power of life. Demons should be the ones quaking when you open your mouth. 

That is how Jesus and the Father see reality. This is a worldview issue. To see reality as the righteousness of God, sitting with Jesus in the heavenly places as a prince of heaven, or through the lens of a lowly mere human. 

First off, rewind to Jairus. Jesus drops that bomb: “Do not fear, only believe” (Mark 5:36). Fear’s the devil’s fake ID; he makes it feel and look so real, but it’s bogus. Satan and his crew are already crushed under Jesus’ boot. Colossians 2:15 spells it out: Christ “disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him.” That’s the cross talking—Jesus stripped them naked, paraded them like losers. This is why demons shrieked at His approach; they knew the gig was up. 

But here’s the kicker: that victory’s ours too. Luke 10:19? Jesus hands us the keys: “Behold, I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall hurt you.” Tread on them—like stomping grapes at a vineyard party. We’re not cowering; we’re marching forward and commanding. Mark 16:17-18 seals it: “These signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will cast out demons… they will lay their hands on the sick, and they will recover.” Know your identity in Christ and stand in His righteousness and authority He has already given you. When you do, then devils will bow out when you say, “boo.” 

If God’s sovereign—and He is, dictating every atom—then sickness, demons, all that junk’s under His thumb. But He didn’t leave us dangling. Ephesians 6:12 reminds us the fight’s “against the spiritual forces of evil,” but verse 10 arms us: “Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might.” This is like Zeus giving someone his personal armor and lightning bolt. And this is exactly what God has given us. But notice Paul says to put it on and pick up the sword of the Spirit. It does you no good to leave it hanging on the wall. But the main point is that you are empowered with God’s power. Not your power, but God’s power. And it is a command to put it on. You don’t have the luxury to not put it on and walk in mere human weakness. You are commanded to be God’s power on earth. Put on that armor, stand firm. James 4:7? “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” Flee—like a roach when the light flips on. The verse doesn’t say Satan, the god of this world will flee from God. No. It says he will flee from you, but you must do the resisting in faith. 1 John 4:4 crushes it: “He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.” Greater? Try infinitely. No contest. 

Years back, God correct me when I was full of fear: “Oshea, those things you’re afraid of? They are to be afraid of you.” Gideon was strong, not because of his own power, but because God made Him strong. In Christ every Christian has been given His authority, His name and His divine weapons. In Christ every Christian is a man of great valor. Cancer howls when faith walks in. Demons scatter when you pray bold. Sickness? Jesus bore it on the cross, and by His stripes we are and were healed (Isaiah 53:4-5). We’re seated with Him in heavenly places (Ephesians 2:6); thus, even if you are the little toe in Jesus’ body, all things under our feet, including every demon and sickness. We have already been given every spiritual blessing. There is no spiritual blessing, (which controls natural blessings), that you will have heaven, that you do not already have now. The same Spirit that empowered Jesus in His unstoppable ministry of healing and casting out demons is available to you today by faith and praying in tongues. Jesus will help you receive the Spirit. 

Bad doctrine that leaves you with even an ounce of fear will kill you—literally. But us? We’re empowered sons, not sniveling slaves. Pray loud, command devils, snatch healing. Devil hears? Good—let him tremble; that’s the whole point. Faith moves mountains, not mountains moving faith. Circumstance doesn’t move faith; rather, as Jesus’ extreme faith doctrine teaches us, faith moves circumstances. 

God’s not stingy; He wants this power surging through you more than you do. Dive into His promises day and night (Psalm 1). Believe this power is yours and you have. Disbelieve it and you will not have it. You need to mediate on the worldview Jesus handed down to us, “do not fear, only believe.” This ought to be the constant, inflexible state of our minds.   

When Jesus was awoken from sleep in a deadly storm, he was upset. He did not sympathize with the disciples for being afraid in a truly deadly storm, but rebuked their unbelief. Most would accuse Jesus for being insensitive and uncaring. But Jesus does care. He cares about healing the sick, expanding the Father’s kingdom and helping us live in the fullness of our identity in Him. He thought a deadly storm, a real storm that could hurt you, is not something you should be afraid of, because of faith. Jesus said, why is your faith so small? Jesus rebuked the storm, and by this showed us what faith does. It is not a fatalistic pagan waiting to see what God does, but faith to stop a storm. James mentions the prophet doing miracles over the natural weather, and says the prayer of a righteous man is powerfully effective. Thus, Jesus expects us to walk in this extreme faith doctrine of faith, so that storms, sickness and demons are afraid of us, not the other way around. 

The point is simple. You have such overwhelming power and authority in Jesus that it does not matter if you shouted all your secret plans to every demon in the world, it does not matter. You have so much power, it is irrelevant if all enemies knew your plans. You have so much power, they can’t stop you. It did not matter that the demons knew Jesus’ plans to heal the sick, cast out demons, resurrect the dead and preach the gospel. They could not stop it. They still screamed out in terror when He came, even though they had time to prepare. We have the same name of Jesus when we pray, we have the same Spirit empowered ministry and we have the seated authority in Jesus in heaven right now.

This is a worldview issue. How do you view Jesus? How do you view the enemy? How do you view yourself in Jesus? 

Matthew 10:27 adds another layer: “What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs.” Jesus isn’t whispering secrets for us to hoard like misers; He’s arming us with truth to shout from the rooftops. No fear of eavesdroppers—Satan or otherwise—because the light exposes and overcomes darkness. Proclaim it loud: healing, deliverance, prosperity—they’re yours in Christ’s name. The devil overhears? Let him. He’s already defeated, and your bold prayers just remind him of his eviction notice. 

Bold faith isn’t arrogance; it’s obedience. Jesus publicly announced that He will use us (those who confess Jesus is God’s only Son), to storm and tear down the gates of hell. There is no fear in letting the devil know we are coming for him, because Jesus knows how much unlimited power and authority He has given us. So go ahead, climb that rooftop. Your prayers aren’t suggestions; they’re decrees backed by the King. And if demon tunes in? Tell him he’s next on the hit list. It was this type of courageous faith that made the Christians so productive in the book of Acts, and if we follow their example, we too will be effective in the kingdom of God.   

Blasphemy Against the Holy Spirit Awareness Month

We are kicking off January as Blasphemy Against the Holy Spirit Awareness Month. Hat tip to Vincent Cheung for nailing that label and pushing this idea forward. Look, we’ve got churches full of folks tiptoeing around miracles like they’re handling nitroglycerin, but Jesus didn’t mince words on this. Blasphemy against the Spirit isn’t some dusty relic from the Pharisees’ playbook; it’s a live wire humming in modern pews, zapping faith before it sparks.

A lot of so-called theology out there is just dressed-up unbelief, whispering that healing and power are “not for today.” That’s not piety—it’s soul damning peril.

First off, Jesus didn’t just waltz into ministry with a sermon and a smile; He launched it by claiming Isaiah’s prophecy as His own blueprint. Flip to Luke 4, where He stands in the synagogue, unrolls the scroll to Isaiah 61, and reads: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” Then He rolls it up, sits down, and drops the mic: “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” Boom. The Spirit’s anointing wasn’t for show— it was for action. Healing, healing, healing, and preaching gospel to the broke and poor. Isaiah paints a picture of liberation from demonic oppression, sickness, and poverty, all under the Spirit’s power. Jesus embodied that, storming Satan’s kingdom like a one-man demolition crew. Demons shrieked, bodies mended, and the poor got the VIP treatment in God’s favor. This wasn’t optional flair; it was the core of His mission, fueled by the Spirit to crush the devil’s works. If you’re sidelining miracles today, you’re editing Jesus’ job description—and that’s not faith, that’s demonic vandalism.

Now, fast-forward to Mark 1, Jesus wastes no time showing what Spirit-empowered ministry looks like in action. What miracle does Mark show Jesus starting out with? Casting out a demon in His own house. Not out in the pagan wilds, but right in the synagogue—His own house, the heart of Jewish worship. A man with an unclean spirit cries out, “What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are—the Holy One of God!” Jesus shuts him down: “Be quiet! Come out of him!” The demon convulses the guy and bolts with a shriek. The crowd’s buzzing: “What is this? A new teaching—and with authority! He even gives orders to impure spirits and they obey him.” Notice the venue: not a Roman temple or a Samaritan street, but the synagogue. Demons weren’t just lurking in heathen lands; they were comfy in God’s house, oppressing His people with torment and bondage. Mark makes a point to show Jesus starting His miracle spree by evicting the kingdom of demons out of His Father’s house. It’s a stark reminder—the kingdom of darkness doesn’t respect sacred spaces; it infiltrates them. And Jesus, anointed by the Spirit, confronts it head-on, freeing folks from pain and possession. If your church is demon-free but miracle-starved, ask why. Maybe the Spirit’s flow got dammed up by doubt. Maybe there are more demon filled people in the pews and Spirit filed ones, including your pastor. Jesus didn’t start with outsiders; He cleaned house first, because oppression in the family of God is an affront to His Father’s love.

That house-cleaning didn’t sit well, though, and by Mark 3, the resistance boils over into outright confrontation—from Jesus’ own kin and the religious elite. His family hears the crowds and buzz, thinks He’s lost it, and shows up to “take charge of him,” saying, “He is out of his mind.” But here’s the kicker—Mark slips in that Jesus was furious. In verse 5, amid healing a man’s shriveled hand on the Sabbath, He looks around at their stubborn hearts “in anger and, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts.” The Greek word for anger there is “orge,” raw fury at their hardness. His own people, resisting the Spirit’s breakthrough, opposing the liberation He’d come to bring. They saw demons fleeing, bodies healing, and instead of rejoicing, they resisted God’s love and power. Sound familiar? Jesus got mad because this wasn’t just bad theology—it was blocking freedom for the oppressed. The Spirit’s anointing was for healing and deliverance, yet His own house pushed back, preferring tradition over transformation. If you’re in a camp that slows the miracle flow, you’re not just missing out; you’re mirroring that resistance, and Jesus’ anger at stubborn hearts hasn’t cooled.

Jesus doesn’t back down from that pushback; in Matthew 12, He goes on the offensive, turning the tables and issuing a chilling warning that cuts to the core of this sin. It starts with a bang: Jesus heals a demon-possessed man who’s blind and mute—bam, the guy sees and speaks. The crowd’s electric: “Could this be the Son of David?” But the Pharisees, those gatekeepers of unbelief, sneer, “It’s only by Beelzebul, the prince of demons, that this fellow drives out demons.” Jesus dismantles their nonsense: divided kingdoms fall; if Satan’s evicting his own, he’s toast. Then He clarifies: “But if it is by the Spirit of God that I drive out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you.” Boom—He attributes the power not to Himself, but to the Spirit. The Pharisees thought they were jabbing at Jesus, but since it was the Spirit at work, their words landed on Him. They saw undeniable divine power smashing demonic oppression—sickness, blindness, muteness—and credited it to Satan. That’s not a slip-up; that’s an idle word of unbelief slung at the face of the Spirit’s healing ministry.

And that’s when Jesus drops the hammer: “Every kind of sin and slander can be forgiven, but blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven. Anyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but anyone who speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come.” Why the Spirit specifically? Context screams it’s tied to miracles and healing. Jesus didn’t nuke them for botched tithing or weak preaching; it was their direct assault on the Spirit-powered healing right in front of them. They witnessed liberation from pain and bondage—the very mandate from Isaiah—and called it demonic. That’s blasphemy: attributing the Holy Spirit’s work to evil. And Jesus ties it to gathering or scattering: “Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.” No middle ground. Lazy on miracles? You’re actively opposing Him, hand-in-hand with demons without realizing it. The Spirit’s anointing was for healing those in pain and good news to the poor; resist that, and you’re walking on unforgivable turf.

Fast-forward to today, and the church is riddled with this sin dressed up in Sunday best. Folks dismiss miracles as “not for now” or hedge with “if it’s God’s will,” attributing the Spirit’s healing ministry power to Satan’s playbook or human hype. That’s blasphemy in piety’s clothing, folks. And get this: Even careless words count. Matthew 12:36-37 says we’ll give account for every idle word—by your words you’re justified or condemned. Speak against the Spirit’s healing ministry? You’re playing with eternal fire.

Look at 1 Corinthians 12-14. Paul corrects abuses in the gifts—selfish showmanship, disorder—but does he shut it down? No way. He urges more: “Earnestly desire the greater gifts,” “do not forbid speaking in tongues,” pursue love and eagerness for spiritual gifts, especially prophecy. He didn’t cross into blasphemy by telling them to slow down or stop. Instead, he pushed for more Spirit-empowered ministry, done right with love and not self-seeking. The line? Criticize selfish abuse, sure, but never hint at less healing, less miracles, less tongues, less prophecy. If only an idle word touches the Spirit you are eternally dammed, which is why if a cessationist tries to do what Paul did, they will likely commit the unforgivable sin. If someone even whispers, “dial it back,” get very suspicious; a whole bunch of red flags should be popping up in your mind. They are likely channelling demons without knowing it. It might already be too late for them.

Bottom line: Rally behind miracle ministry like your soul depends on it—because it does. Heal the sick, cast out demons, raise the dead; it’s gospel in motion, or at least charge in faith till it happens. Jesus promises: seek, and you’ll find. Neutral on this? Jesus brands you an enemy. You’re unwittingly teaming with demons, holding their hand in the dark.

But as for us? We’ll stoke the fire in ourselves and others for more Spirit-powered healing and miracles. No other reality exists. No other God but this One. It’s the path of health, freedom, liberation. Why settle for shadows when the light’s blazing? Let’s make this awareness month count—expose the blasphemy, embrace the power, and watch Satan’s kingdom crumble.

Don’t Waste The Gospel

Ah, John Piper. The man who’s made a career out of turning theological somersaults to explain why God might hand you a lemon and call it lemonade. He says, “God does not give bad. And I mean, ultimately hurtful. This tests our faith to the limit, doesn’t it?… I asked for healing. I asked for a job…. This isn’t what I wanted. And my theology from every part of the bible. I know God only gives what is good for his children. Painful as it has been. This brings us stability in our lives. I am thankful for you having embraced that sovereign goodness and grace of God.”

This isn’t just nitpicking; it’s about the heart of the gospel. Piper’s teaching trains believers to settle for Satan’s leftovers and call them God’s feast. Imagine praying for healing, getting more pain, and then thanking God for “stability” in suffering. That’s not faith; that’s resignation dressed up as piety

He’s essentially patting folks on the back for accepting pain as a divine gift wrap. This isn’t biblical theology; it’s a clever dodge that hybridizes good and evil until they’re indistinguishable, like mixing chocolate milk with motor oil and calling it a smoothie. The Bible doesn’t play that game. God’s goodness isn’t some cosmic bait-and-switch where sickness or hardship gets relabeled as “ultimately good.” No, Scripture draws a sharp line: good is good now, just as it’ll be in heaven, and bad things like pain and disease? Those have the devil’s fingerprints all over them, not God’s.

In Acts 10:38, Peter delivers the first apostolic sermon to the Gentiles, painting a childlike yet profound picture of the gospel: “how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power, and how he went around doing good and healing all who were under the power of the devil, because God was with him” (NIV). Here, goodness is tied directly to healing, while sickness is oppression from the devil. It’s not ambiguous—Jesus’ ministry was a relentless campaign against disease, not a distribution of it. If Piper’s view holds, we’d have to imagine Jesus handing out tumors as tokens of grace, but the text says the opposite: sickness victimizes people under Satan’s thumb, and Jesus smashes it as an act of divine goodness. This isn’t just narrative flair; it’s a partitioning line in theology, as fundamental as affirming that all things exist for God’s glory. To mix them up is to confuse the kingdom’s advance with the enemy’s attack. It is to look at a police lineup, when asked who hurt you, and you point to Jesus rather than Satan. This isn’t a minor theological mistake; it is seeing reality upside down. It is a worldview issue. It is a different view of reality than the Christian one.

Consider Isaiah 54:15, where God speaks to His covenant people: “If anyone does attack you, it will not be my doing; whoever attacks you will surrender to you” (NIV). God assumes His ultimate sovereignty quietly in the background, as He often does, but on the human level—where He commands, relates, and expects us to live—He declares plainly that attacks aren’t from Him. This echoes through the New Testament. In Luke 13:16, Jesus heals a woman bent over for eighteen years, declaring, “Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?” (NIV). Notice the emphasis: she’s an insider under Abraham’s covenant, which promises blessing and health, not curse and pain. Satan bound her, not God, and Jesus frames her healing as a necessity—a “must”—because God’s covenants don’t break. If sickness were God’s “painful but good” gift, Jesus would be contradicting His Father’s mission, but instead, He treats it as an affront to the Father’s promises, demolishing it wherever faith allows.

God is in a Contract with us, and therefore, relative to our interactions with God, and God’s interaction with us, He does not send sin to us—otherwise, Jesus would be a minister of sin. Jesus does not send poverty to us—otherwise, Jesus would be High Priest of poverty. Jesus does not minister sickness to us—otherwise, His ministry would be a ministry of sickness, pain, and death. There is a being who does minister such things, and that is Satan. He has a ministry of death, sickness, poverty, and pain. He comes to steal, kill, and destroy. But Jesus comes to give life and even abundant life.

The argument God gives in Isaiah 54 is simple. On the relative level, God did not send the trouble; therefore, when trouble comes to you, command it to leave. Jesus gives us a clear picture of this in His faith doctrine. What does it mean to refute every tongue that accuses you? Jesus commands us to “speak” to our mountains and tell them to get out of our way. Jesus also says that we can use His Name to ask for whatever we want and get it to increase our joy and give the Father glory. Peter therefore said, “What I have, I give, In Jesus Name, Walk.” Thus, because the trouble did not come from Jesus, when troubles—or that is, when mountains—come, condemn it, refute it, and tell it to cast itself in the sea.

This brings us to the heart of the issue: Piper’s hybridization of good and bad under the banner of sovereignty. On the ultimate metaphysical level, yes, God controls all things directly, as Vincent Cheung aptly notes in his work on divine sovereignty: “God is the metaphysical author of evil,” meaning nothing escapes His decree (vincentcheung.com). All things are things God directly and absolute controls, including all human thoughts, actions and evil. When you say God absolutely and directly controls all things as category truth claim, you can only say it as an  “all, some, or none.” The bible says it is all, regarding the ultimate or only real cause level. However, the Bible speaks mostly on the relational, human level, where God relates to us through Contracts sealed in blood and promise of good. In the New Contract, God promises to deal with us always in goodness—like a father giving a fish for a fish, not a stone (Matthew 7:9-11). Jesus, as our eternal High Priest, ministers healing, not torment; if He sent sickness, His priesthood would include pain and suffering as promised ministry, which it doesn’t. The curses of the law, including sickness and poverty, are bad—plain and simple—as Deuteronomy 28 outlines, while Abraham’s blessings, which Galatians 3:14 applies to us, are good: health, prosperity, victory. Jesus bore those curses in our place (Galatians 3:13; Isaiah 53:4-5), so attributing ongoing sickness to God’s goodness is like saying the atonement half-worked. It’s not faith-testing; it’s faith-denying.

Think about it this way: when Joseph told his brothers, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good” (Genesis 50:20, NIV), he didn’t say God intended harm and then God flipped the harm into good. The evil came from human (and likely demonic) intent, while God orchestrated the outcome for blessing. Piper’s approach risks congratulating believers for accepting Satan’s “bi@#h slap and graffiti” as God’s artistry, but as I argue in my Systematic Theology (2025), sickness is Satan’s glory, not God’s. It sidelines Christians, stalls the kingdom, and turns soldiers into casualties that drag others down—like wartime tactics where injuring is more disruptive than killing. If we label that “good,” we’re cheering for the wrong side in this cosmic showdown. Jesus saw sickness as a direct insult to His atonement, where He took 39 stripes for our healing (Isaiah 53:5; Matthew 8:17), bearing our diseases as the scapegoat did sins (Leviticus 16). To say God continues it for our benefit dishonors that finished work, making the cross a partial payment rather than a finished work.

Piper’s words aim for stability, and there’s a kernel of truth in trusting God’s sovereignty amid trials. The problem is conflating the trial’s source with its resolver. The Bible never frames sickness as paternal discipline for believers; it’s the devil’s opportunism under the curse, which Jesus came to destroy (1 John 3:8). James 5:15 promises healing and forgiveness together: “And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven” (NIV). God wants prosperity, not pain—His goodness is consistent from Eden to eternity, where no sickness exists (Revelation 21:4).

Faith isn’t passive acceptance; it’s active resistance against bad, sickness, pain, evil and lack. Jesus commanded us to heal the sick (Matthew 10:8), not endure them as lessons. If you’re facing illness or lack, don’t redefine it as God’s “painful good”—confess the promises, and command the mountain to move (Mark 11:23), and watch reality bow to the King’s decree. Piper’s theology, encourages believers to give glory to Satan, letting the devil conqueror them in pain and suffering. However the scripture tells a different story. We are called co-heirs with Christ (Romans 8:17), seated above every power (Ephesians 2:6), with all things possible (Mark 9:23).

In wrapping up, Piper admits the pain is real and unwanted—something you’d never pray for if you thought it was better—but then insists it’s still God’s good gift. This is a category error of epic proportions, folks. The Bible defines goodness consistently from Genesis to Revelation. In the Garden, goodness meant abundance, health, and harmony without a hint of pain or curse. Abraham’s blessing, which Galatians 3:14 says is ours through Christ, included prosperity and healing as unequivocal goods. Deuteronomy 28 spells it out: blessings are health, wealth, and victory; curses are sickness, poverty, and defeat. Jesus didn’t come to hybridize them; He came to redeem us from the curse entirely (Galatians 3:13). When Piper says “painful as it has been” and calls it God’s goodness, he’s essentially saying God gives curses wrapped in blessing paper. But Isaiah 54:15 shoots that down: “If anyone does attack you, it will not be my doing; whoever attacks you will surrender to you” (NIV). God explicitly disowns the attackers—be they relational strife, financial woes, or cancerous tumors. If pain, loss or sickness is knocking on your door, it’s not a delivery from heaven; it’s fiery arrows from the enemy, and Piper’s theology is handing Satan the quiver while crediting God for the attacks.

Piper’s congratulating his audience for embracing this is like high-fiving someone for eating spoiled food and calling it gourmet. It gives Satan glory by attributing his works to God. But the Bible’s worldview is clear: Jesus heals because it’s good; the devil afflicts because it’s bad. No hybridization. In my “Systematic Theology,” I build this out: epistemology from revelation, metaphysics of sovereignty without compromise, logic deductive, ethics obedient faith. The thesis? All things possible to believers. Piper’s view limits God by redefining His gifts by the devils works.

As Vincent Cheung says so well, “Don’t waste your Redemption,” in response to Piper’s book, Don’t Waste Your Cancer. The benefits of the atonement are already purchased by Jesus and freely given to you. I have sympathy with hurting Christians, but sickness and lack does not negate the commands of God. The command is to pray and make the sickness, purchased by the strips of Jesus, to go away and be healed. My sympathy and God’s compassion, does not give an excuse for disobedience. You fully obey God when you are healed. The same is for conversion. It is a command to be forgiven of your sins. A hard life, depression and peer pressures might draw sympathy, but it is not an excuse to not repent of your sins and receive salvation. Until you are fully healed, you are wasting the gospel, or that part of the gospel, in your life. The call to maturity, is to correct this and get better. God wants this more than you and will help you improve.

So, what’s the takeaway? Ditch the muddled mess. Embrace God’s unmixed goodness. If pain shows up, declare, “Not from my Father!” Pray in faith, resist the devil, and watch him flee (James 4:7). Stability comes not from enduring bad but from receiving good. Let me say that again, Stability comes not from enduring bad but from receiving good. Don’t let theologians turn your theology into therapy for defeat—let Scripture turn it into triumph. God’s not sending the pain; He’s sending the power to overcome it. Believe that, and you’ll see mountains move, not just molehills managed.

—

Vincent Cheung has some fantastic passages about John Piper’s, “Don’t Waste Your Cancer,” and I will post here them.

“Don’t waste your cancer? Are you kidding me? Don’t waste your redemption! Don’t waste the blood of Christ! Jesus took our infirmities and bore our sicknesses (Matthew 8:16-17). Every point in this small book is either misleading or the opposite of what the Bible teaches. If you do not want to “waste” your sickness, then get healed from it and testify about the miracle. Don’t crucify Christ afresh so you can make yourself look like a religious hero. Don’t urinate on the face of Christ just so you can make yourself feel better in your unbelief and defeat. Don’t waste your life romanticizing unnecessary suffering. Don’t waste the sacrifice of Christ with your stupid fake piety.”
(Backstage, 2016, pg 7).

“One Christian author wrote, “Don’t waste your cancer.” What a demonic message. This is counter-gospel. This is fake religion. The Bible never calls sickness a gift from God, but it says that sickness is satanic bondage and oppression. Sickness is a demonic attack, not a divine gift. Jesus devoted an inordinate amount of effort to obliterate it everywhere he went. Would that author accuse Jesus of wasting everyone’s sickness? Behold the demeaning effect of unbelief. This fake teacher calls upon thousands of people to waste the blood of Christ, who took our infirmities and bore our sicknesses to obtain healing for us. Unless you “waste” your sickness, you waste your redemption. Behold the perverse theology of tradition. This fake teacher romanticizes sickness and suffering, and urges thousands of God’s people to embrace bondage and oppression, surrendering to Satan to do all his will. Because he weakens people’s faith and urgency in receiving healing from God, the author has become directly responsible for their suffering and even deaths. He is a sadist and a murderer. But spiritual poison like this is usually presented as profound piety and scholarship.

Jesus never said, “Don’t waste your sickness,” but he said, “Do you want to be healed?” And then he said to the invalid, “Pick up your mat and walk.” He never said, “Let the will of God be done,” but he said, “What do you want me to do for you?” And then he said to the blind man, “Your faith has healed you.”
(Platitudes as Orthodoxy, web 2018).

God Gave Me His Son’s Righteousness

Let’s pause for a moment and let the sheer magnitude of this sink in. God, the Almighty who spun galaxies from His fingertips and set and controls the laws of reality in motion, could create anything He desired—worlds, wonders, even lesser beings to serve Him. Yet, what He treasures infinitely above all things is Himself, reflected perfectly in His Son, Jesus Christ. And in an act of unfathomable generosity, He took that very righteousness—the flawless, divine perfection of His Son—and credited it to me. This isn’t a small footnote; it’s the core of who I am now. When God looks at me, He sees Jesus, spotless and exalted at His right hand. My ledger of stumbles and successes? In His eyes, it’s rewritten entirely in the ink of Christ’s unblemished record, without a single smudge. Who am I—or anyone else, for that matter—to argue with the Creator on this point? It’s like telling the sun it shouldn’t shine because you prefer the shade.

We ought to view our righteousness in Christ as naturally as we regard our own hands—those faithful appendages that type these words without a second thought. Picture a newborn, staring at its tiny fists with wide-eyed curiosity, as if pondering, “What are these things dangling in front of me, and do they really belong to me? If so, how on earth do I make them work?” Tragically, too many who call themselves Christians approach their God-given righteousness in much the same bewildered way, doubting its reality or fumbling with how to apply it. But let’s be clear: God’s sovereignty in bestowing this gift is no less absolute than His hand in crafting and controlling every atom of creation, including those hands of yours. He formed them, sustains them, and directs their every motion, yet on the human level—where He graciously meets us—those hands are yours to command, not His. God isn’t what He creates; He deals with us as commanded beings in the relative realm, not the ultimate causality where He orchestrates all. So yes, those hands belong to you, a gift for your use. In precisely the same manner, God has transferred His Son’s righteousness to your account—it’s yours now, no less inherently than your limbs. To question it is to undermine the very exchange Christ secured on the cross.

As that infant matures, it comes to grasp the truth: those arms and hands are indeed its own, tools to explore, create, and thrive. With time, mastery follows, until using them becomes second nature—no hesitation, no self-doubt. The grown person doesn’t pause mid-task to wonder, “Are these really mine? Might my boss take offense if I wield them to sign this contract?” Yet, how many believers linger in spiritual infancy, perpetually questioning if all this righteousness truly belongs to them? They waver, peering at their divine inheritance like it’s a borrowed trinket, liable to be snatched away at any moment. This isn’t faith; it’s unbelief, doubting God’s word and Jesus’ finished work. Scripture doesn’t mince words here.

Paul declares in Romans 4:20-24 (NIV), Abraham “did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised. This is why ‘it was credited to him as righteousness.’ The words ‘it was credited to him’ were written not for him alone, but also for us, to whom God will credit righteousness—for us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead.” Abraham believed God’s extravagant promises of blessing, and righteousness was imputed to him apart from any law or merit. We, as his spiritual heirs, receive the same—yet some fritter it away with needless skepticism, as if God’s gavel might reverse course. Frankly, it’s like showing up to King’s feast and complaining about the silverware; you miss the King’s love the bounty staring you in the face.

Delving deeper, the Bible introduces imputed righteousness not amid gloom and guilt, but in the radiant context of God’s overflowing favor to Abraham. In Genesis 15:6 (NIV), we read, “Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness.” What was Abram believing? Not a plea for pardon from sin—that’s nowhere in sight. No, God had just unveiled a cascade of promises: descendants as numerous as the stars, land stretching to the horizons, protection as a shield, and Himself as Abram’s “very great reward” (Genesis 15:1 NIV). It’s a declaration of abundance—health, wealth, legacy, victory—pure, unadulterated blessing. Abram assents, trusting God’s power to deliver all the good things He promised, and bam: righteousness credited, no strings attached. Paul hammers this home in Romans 4, emphasizing it’s “apart from the law” (Romans 3:21 NIV), a free gift for those who believe like Abraham did. This isn’t some secondary perk; it’s foundational, predating Moses by centuries, designed to showcase God’s grace without legal hoops.

Fast-forward to the cross, where this imputation reaches its pinnacle in Christ. As 2 Corinthians 5:21 (NIV) states plainly, “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” Here’s the great exchange: our filthy record transferred to Jesus, who bore its penalty in full, while His spotless righteousness floods our account. It’s not a partial swap or a begrudging loan; it’s total, divine, and irrevocable. Romans 5:17-19 (NIV) expands this, contrasting Adam’s legacy of death with Christ’s gift of life: “For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ! … For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.” Notice the “much more”—Christ’s righteousness doesn’t just cancel the debt; it catapults us into reigning status, heirs with Him, empowered to dominate circumstances as He does.

But here’s where the rubber meets the road, and frankly, where too many skid off into the ditch of doubt. If this righteousness is truly yours—as natural as those hands you use daily—then act like it. No more tiptoeing around like a spiritual pauper, begging for scraps when the banquet is yours by right. Remember the baby analogy? Maturity means owning it, wielding it without apology. When temptation whispers, “Look at your track record—you’re still that old mess,” counter with the truth: “No, devil, my record is Christ’s now, flawless and favored.” It’s not arrogance; it’s alignment with God’s verdict. As Vincent Cheung aptly puts it in his essay “The Christian and the Self,” “When you feel so ‘right,’ nothing can stand in your way. When you are so ‘right,’ you cannot conceive of any reason why God would not answer your prayers for success and miracles.” He’s spot on, because it echoes Scripture’s boldness.

In practical terms, this imputed righteousness reshapes everything. Prayer becomes a throne-room decree, not a timid plea, because you approach as one robed in Christ’s perfection. Healing? Claim it—Isaiah 53:5 (NIV) assures, “by his wounds we are healed,” part of the same atoning exchange. Prosperity? Abraham’s blessing flows to us (Galatians 3:14 NIV), crediting abundance where lack once ruled. And sin? It’s dethroned, no longer your master, because you’re not under law but grace (Romans 6:14 NIV). Doubt this, and you’re essentially calling God a liar, which is about as wise as arm-wrestling a hurricane. Instead, let it fuel your faith: meditate on Romans 4 until it’s etched in your soul, rebuking any voice—internal or infernal—that suggests otherwise. God didn’t skimp on this gift; He over-engineered it for your assurance, layering justification apart from the law with forgiveness by the law, all sealed in Christ’s blood.

Wrapping this up, if there’s one takeaway, it’s this: God gave me His Son’s righteousness not as a loan to be repaid, but as my new identity, irrevocable and empowering. It’s me—as real as these hands typing away. To live otherwise is to shortchange the cross and grieve the Spirit. So own it, wield it, and watch mountains move. After all, who are we to disagree with the One who holds the stars? Let’s live like the righteous heirs we are, with a shout of gratitude toward heaven’s Son that made it so.

Is Something My Will If I Already Did It?

This isn’t a trick question. It should be obvious.

There’s something profoundly satisfying about diving into the doctrine of “You Already Got It.” It’s like uncovering a treasure chest that’s been sitting right under our noses all along, bursting with promises already fulfilled through the finished work of Jesus Christ. There are legitimate moments when we approach the throne in prayer, asking for specific things as the Spirit leads us—guidance in a tough decision, or wisdom for a new season. But let’s be clear: a massive chunk of God’s promises aren’t dangling out there in the future, waiting for us to beg hard enough. No, they’re already accomplished, sealed in the gospel through Jesus’ atonement and resurrection. It’s done. Finished. Deposited into our accounts, ready for withdrawal by faith. And when we grasp this, it changes how we pray, how we live, and how we view God’s will—like flipping a switch from dim doubt to full-beam certainty.

I’m reminded of Andrew Wommack’s illustration from the Garden of Eden. Picture Adam and Eve, surrounded by an abundance of fruit trees, rivers of living water, and every good thing God had provided. How ridiculous would it have been for Adam to drop to his knees and plead, “Oh Lord, if it’s Your will, please give me something to eat today”? The food was right there, hanging low and ripe for the taking. They didn’t need to ask for provision because it was already theirs by divine design and command. In the same way, so many of the blessings we chase after—healing, forgiveness, prosperity, righteousness—are already ours through Christ’s completed work. We’re not paupers knocking on heaven’s door; we’re heirs lounging in the family estate, with the fridge fully stocked.

Vincent Cheung nails this in “Adventures of Jesus Christ,” echoing an illustration similar to what F.F. Bosworth taught in “Christ the Healer,” but with a sharper focus on the “already done” aspect. He writes, “When God tells you that a miracle will happen, believe it. When God promises to do a thing for you, accept that he will do it… The Bible says many things that are more than promises, but it tells you that something is already done. Imagine if I say to you, ‘I have put a present in your room.’ And you answer, ‘Well, you will do it if you want to.’ Would that not be silly? I told you that I have already done it, and that the present is already in your room, but you answer as if it is not yet done, and that you are not sure if it would happen at all. Again, it is like you think I have not said anything. It is like you are calling me a liar.”[1] There’s a frankness in that analogy, isn’t there? It’s not just polite conversation; it’s exposing the absurdity of doubting what’s already been handed over—like ignoring a gift-wrapped package under the tree and wondering if its your parents will to open it on Christas day.

So, how can anyone tack on “if it’s God’s will” to something He has already declared and delivered? It’s not merely a harmless phrase—it’s both foolish and offensive, like chatting with a brick wall hoping for an intelligent conversation. This isn’t neutral territory; it’s a direct assault on the integrity of God. Take healing, for instance. If you murmur, “If it’s God’s will to heal me,” you’re not expressing humility; you’re slapping Jesus across the face and questioning the stripes He bore on the cross. Isaiah 53:5 spells it out plainly: “But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.” Peter echoes this in the past tense: “By his wounds you have been healed” (1 Peter 2:24). God already did it. Jesus already suffered for it. Are we really going to demand that God re-crucify His Son just to prove a point? That’s the only way He’s chosen to provide healing—through that one, perfect sacrifice.

This is like forgiveness of sins. The foundation of asking for forgiveness is confessing with your mouth that Jesus has already forgiven you through His work, and you’re agreeing with Him about this. You’re not asking God to do something new to forgive you, because that would mean asking Him to re-crucify Jesus—that’s how forgiveness happens. It already happened. When you repent, you’re agreeing with God, acknowledging that He’s correct and that you’re forgiven by Jesus for all your sins, once and for all time. The same goes for all blessings produced by that same blood and resurrection of Jesus, such as healing, Abraham’s blessings, and prosperity. You’re not asking Him; you’re agreeing with Him about what He has already done for you, and this faith allows you to receive it.

Imagine your boss telling you in the breakroom that he dropped a stack of paperwork on your keyboard, saying, “Fill this out by lunch and turn it in.” But instead of getting to work, you lean back and reply, “Well, if it’s your will, you’ll do it; if not, you won’t.” Your boss would stare at you like you’d grown a second head, thinking he’s dealing with a complete idiot or someone dodging responsibility. “I already put it right there on your desk—of course it’s my will! What on earth are you babbling about?” In all my years shuffling through jobs and dealing with co-workers, I’ve never witnessed that level of nonsense. Yet, Christians pull this stunt with God all the time and dress it up as piety, humility, or respect. Let’s call it what it is: it’s neither humble nor respectful. God is good, and when you’re essentially bitch-slapping Him across the face and branding Him a liar, you’re not a model of good; you’re bad, just as the devil is bad.

When God has already accomplished something colossal, like the finished work of Jesus on the cross, injecting “if it’s God’s will” into the equation doesn’t just miss the mark; it attacks the very character of God as a fraud. Those stripes on Jesus’ back? They were for your healing, already inflicted, already effective, already credited to your name. You can’t casually wonder, “If it’s God’s will to heal me,” without becoming God’s antagonist in this cosmic story. This makes you bad. God is good, and because you’re opposing Him, you’re bad. Jesus has already forgiven your sins, healed your body, showered you with Abraham’s blessings, and positioned you for prosperity. As Galatians 3:13-14 declares, “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us… He redeemed us in order that the blessing given to Abraham might come to the Gentiles through Christ Jesus.” The curse includes sickness, poverty, and defeat (Deuteronomy 28), and Jesus nailed it all to the cross. To question God’s will here is to render those promises unintelligible, declaring God a liar by saying they weren’t completed and already given to you.

Because God is good, and Jesus has already given you healing, to oppose healing with “if it is God’s will” means you’re a bad person. In fact, Acts 10:38 says healing is good, and Jesus did this good thing called healing. It is true that God is good, and so also Jesus is good. Because God is good, by definition of His nature, anything He does is good. However, this is not what the verse says. It says that healing is good, and Jesus is doing this good thing. Thus, the Bible declares healing as a category of good. Thus, it is always good to heal. Healing is good. The verse contrasts this with sickness as bad, and the devil is doing this bad thing called sickness. It is not saying the devil is bad, and so sickness is bad because the devil is doing it. No—as with healing and Jesus, sickness is bad categorically, and the devil is doing this bad thing. Healing is good, and Jesus does this good thing. Sickness is bad, and the devil does this bad thing called sickness. Thus, to oppose healing is bad. You’re a bad person because you do bad things when you do anything to oppose the supernatural healing ministry of God.

Instead, let’s flip the script and agree with God that He’s right, that Jesus has already secured these victories for us. We receive them by faith, with hearts full of thankfulness, not timidity. Any other approach? It’s tantamount to making God out to be a deceiver, and that’s a road no one should wander down. Don’t be on the bad side of this war—be good, align with His truth. Healing is unequivocally good, a direct counter to the oppression of the devil, as Acts 10:38 reminds us: “how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power, and how he went around doing good and healing all who were under the power of the devil, because God was with him.” Sickness is bad, a remnant of the curse that Jesus demolished. Good versus bad—it’s that straightforward. God doesn’t mingle the two; He calls us to the former and equips us to reject the latter.

Of course, this ruffles feathers in some circles, where folks prefer a watered-down gospel that leaves room for doubt. They’ll quote James 4:15 out of context—”If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that”—as if it applies to every prayer. But James is warning against arrogant planning without acknowledging God’s sovereignty, not nullifying the clear promises of the New Covenant, already finished and ratified by Jesus’ blood and death. When God has already accomplished something, as in the atonement, hedging with “if it’s Your will” calling God a liar and disguising it as humble caution.

In “The Staff of God,” I explore how Moses’ rod symbolized authority over the natural realm, turning it into a serpent or parting seas—all because God had already empowered and authorized Moses to use it. My arms and legs don’t have inherent power, but relative to my experience, when I move them, they do have a degree of inherent power. Ultimately, it is not as if the staff had inherent power, but relative to Moses using it, it was as if it did have God’s inherent power. It was the Staff of God, and Moses was a god to Pharaoh. We hold a similar staff in the promises of God, already accomplished through Christ. Don’t lay it down and ask if God wants to use it; pick it up and command the mountains to move, as Jesus instructed in Mark 11:23: “Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them.” Faith isn’t wishing; it’s enforcing what’s already decreed—like being the cosmic sheriff with a badge backed by the ultimate authority.

We must not forget the simple contrast: good and bad aren’t ambiguous in Scripture. God is the author of good—life, health, abundance (John 10:10). The thief comes to steal, kill, and destroy, peddling sickness and lack as if they’re divine lessons. But Jesus came for abundant life, already paid for. Sickness is bad, a curse; healing is good, a blessing. Acts 10:38 doesn’t mince words—Jesus healed all oppressed by the devil. If we’re imitating Him, we reject the bad and embrace the good.

We must guard against the subtle trap of unbelief that reframes defeat as devotion. Sickness isn’t God’s glory; it’s Satan’s middle finger to the atonement. Jesus smashed sickness everywhere He went, calling it oppression from the devil (Acts 10:38; Luke 13:16). If you pin it on God, you won’t fight it. You’ll roll over and call torment “sovereign.” That’s not submission; that’s siding with the loser in this war. When you pray “if it’s Your will” over already-paid-for promises, you’re evaluating God from a human point of view—limiting the Holy One. Faith agrees with God’s definition: It’s done. You receive by believing you already have it (Mark 11:24). Reality obeys because the resurrected Christ backs your voice. You’re not begging; you’re enforcing. Seated with Him far above sickness, lack, and demons (Ephesians 2:6).

We live in a world where Christians often treat God’s promises like they’re playing a cosmic game of hot potato—tossing around phrases like “if it’s God’s will” as if the Almighty is some indecisive committee chairman still mulling over the agenda. But let’s cut through the fog here. The gospel isn’t a pending transaction; it’s a finished deal, sealed in the blood of Jesus Christ. When we talk about things like healing, forgiveness, prosperity, or the blessings of Abraham, we’re not begging for scraps from heaven’s table. No, these are realities already accomplished through Jesus’ atonement and resurrection. To question “if it’s God’s will” for such promises isn’t just misguided—it’s an outright affront to the cross, like slapping the Savior across the face while He’s still bearing those stripes for our sake. And yet, this hesitation persists in churches everywhere, masquerading as humility when it’s really unbelief in disguise.

In closing, let’s commit to a faith that honors the “already did it” of the cross. No more “if it’s Your will” for what’s plainly promised; instead, “Thank You, Father, for what You’ve provided.” This shifts us from beggars to heirs, from victims to victors. As Psalm 103:2-3 urges, “Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits—who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases.” All means all. And if the enemy whispers otherwise, tell him to take a hike—because the victory parade has already started, and you’re in it.

—

[1] Vincent Cheung, “The Adventures of Jesus Christ.”

A Deep Relationship with the Sun

Imagine someone boldly declaring, “I have a profound, intimate relationship with the sun.” Yet, when you press them on it, they admit they’ve never felt its warmth on their skin or seen its light chase away the shadows. They might even claim to live in perpetual darkness and chill, as if that’s normal. At that point, you’d have to wonder: is this person outright lying, or are they so deluded that they’ve lost touch with basic reality? Because here’s the unvarnished truth—a relationship with the sun isn’t some abstract notion floating in the ether; it’s defined by experiencing its core attributes. Heat and light aren’t optional add-ons; they are the very essence of what the sun provides. Without them, your so-called “relationship” is nothing but empty words, a hollow shell masquerading as connection. You can’t divorce the sun from its radiance and expect the bond to hold. It’s laughable, really—like claiming to be best friends with a fire but never getting warmed by it. It’s like saying you’re tight with a supernova but still shivering in a black hole.

One of the biggest deceptions in the church today is the idea that forgiveness of sins is the “relationship.” Let’s get this straight: forgiveness is the doorway. It is not the house. To be reconciled is to have the relationship restored, but the act of reconciliation is not the relationship itself.

Think about it like this: if you have a falling out with your spouse and you go through a process of reconciliation, that process is what allows you back into the house. But if, after being reconciled, you choose to stand in the doorway for the next twenty years, never coming into the kitchen, never sitting at the table, never sharing a bed, never being one-flesh through hot sex, and never speaking a word, do you have a relationship? No. You have a so-called legal status, but no reality. It’s like having a VIP pass to a concert but spending the whole night in the lobby checking your phone.

Now, transpose that to the ultimate reality: a relationship with Jesus Christ. If you’re going to claim you know Him, walk with Him, have this so-called “deep connection,” then it better manifest in the tangible blessings He promised. To have a relationship with Jesus is to know and experience healing, prosperity, miracles, and the baptism of the Holy Spirit. That’s not optional; that’s the definition. Just like you can’t divorce the sun from its heat and light, you can’t sever Jesus from the power He unleashes in a believer’s life. Without those, your “relationship” is a sham, a delusion, or worse—a rejection of the very atonement He provided.

Why must this be spelled out to grown adults who claim to follow Christ? It’s as if we’ve collectively forgotten how relationships function. Picture a married couple who constantly reminisce about their wedding day—the vows, the rings, the initial union—but never share meals, conversations, laughter, or pleasurable sex thereafter. They might frame their marriage certificate on the wall and pat themselves on the back for being “reconciled,” but anyone with eyes to see would call it a farce, a non-relationship cloaked in nostalgia. Honestly, that’s not a marriage; that’s a dusty museum exhibit.

The Lord’s Supper, commanded by Jesus in Luke 22:19-20, presupposes that our daily lives aren’t perpetually glued to the cross in morbid fixation; it’s a periodic remembrance amid a vibrant, ongoing communion. 1 Corinthians 11:26 NIV, “For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” It’s an occasional proclamation woven into the fabric of active fellowship, not a substitute for it.

A true relationship with Jesus Christ overflows with the tangible manifestations of His presence and power. Just as the sun’s relationship inherently delivers heat and light, knowing Jesus means experiencing healing, prosperity, miracles, and the baptism of the Holy Spirit. These aren’t extravagant extras for a select few “super saints”; they are the normative expressions of abiding in Him. John 15:7-8 NASB lays it out as a litmus test for genuine discipleship: “If you remain in Me, and My words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit, and so prove to be My disciples.” Notice the progression—abiding leads to asking, which leads to receiving, which glorifies God and confirms your status as a follower. This isn’t pie-in-the-sky mysticism; it’s relationship 101, where His Word takes root in you, and you respond by believing it enough to ask boldly, knowing God will give it to you. Fruit here isn’t limited to character traits; in context, it encompasses the miraculous answers to prayer that demonstrate God’s power at work through you. And let’s be real, who doesn’t love a good fruit basket full of miracles?

Consider healing, for instance. It’s not a rare lottery win but a promised reality for those in covenant with Christ. Isaiah 53:4-5, fulfilled in the New Testament, declares in the NIV: “Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.” Matthew 8:17 confirms this as a present-tense provision: “This was to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet Isaiah: ‘He took up our infirmities and bore our diseases.'” Peter echoes it in Acts 10:38, describing Jesus’ ministry: “how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power, and how he went around doing good and healing all who were under the power of the devil, because God was with him.” If your “relationship” with Jesus leaves you oppressed by sickness, without the faith to command it gone in His name, then something’s amiss. It’s like standing in the sun’s blaze but insisting you’re freezing—either denial or delusion at play. God doesn’t send illness to teach lessons; Satan oppresses, and Jesus liberates. To claim fellowship without pursuing and receiving this liberation is to shortchange the King who paid dearly for it.

Prosperity follows suit, not as greedy excess but as divine provision flowing from the same atonement. 2 Corinthians 8:9 in the NKJV states: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that you through His poverty might become rich.” This isn’t spiritualized poverty gospel; it’s a true exchange where Christ’s impoverishment secures our abundance. Deuteronomy 28:1-14 outlines blessings of obedience under the old covenant—fruitful fields, overflowing storehouses, victory over enemies—but Galatians 3:13-14 redeems us from the curse, granting access through faith: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us… He redeemed us in order that the blessing given to Abraham might come to the Gentiles through Christ Jesus, so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit.” Abraham’s blessing included material wealth (Genesis 13:2), and we’re heirs (Galatians 3:29). If your relationship with Jesus keeps you scraping by, without the boldness to confess and receive provision as per Philippians 4:19—”And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus”—then you’re lingering at the doorway, not feasting at the table. It’s a disgrace to the Host, who invites us to partake freely. Imagine showing up to an all-you-can-eat buffet and just nibbling on crumbs—talk about missing the point!

Miracles and the baptism of the Holy Spirit seal this relational reality. John 14:12: “Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father.” Greater works? Jesus said these works are you asking God for something and God giving it, and so it means miracles. Asking for miracles and getting them is an expectation for believers empowered by faith and the Spirit.

Acts 1:8 declares: “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” This power manifests in miracles, as seen in Acts 19:11-12: “God did extraordinary miracles through Paul, so that even handkerchiefs and aprons that had touched him were taken to the sick, and their illnesses were cured and the evil spirits left them.” The baptism of the Spirit, promised in Acts 2:38-39—”Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The promise is for you and your children and for all who are far off—for all whom the Lord our God will call”—equips us for this. 1 Corinthians 14:2,18 highlights praying in tongues as edification: “For anyone who speaks in a tongue does not speak to people but to God… I thank God that I speak in tongues more than all of you.” Without this immersion and its fruits—miracles, tongues, prophecy—you’re claiming sun-relationship status while huddled in a cave. It’s like having a superpower suit but leaving it in the closet—why even bother?

It’s utterly useless—and frankly, irritating—to keep parroting “have a relationship with Jesus” without spelling out what that entails. It’s like handing someone a map to buried treasure but never telling them to dig. Some folks boil this down to something merely spiritual, mostly about believing and thanking Jesus for the forgiveness of sins. This is insanity on steroids! Forgiveness is the doorway to the relationship, not the relationship itself. Why do I even need to explain this? Reconciliation restores access; it’s the starting line, not the finish. To be reconciled means the barrier of sin is removed so you can enter into fellowship, but staying parked at the cross, always reminiscing about the date of your salvation, is not fellowship—it’s stagnation.

Because Jesus is no longer on the cross, by definition you cannot have a relationship with Jesus if you stay at the cross. Jesus is presently seated at the right hand of Power, pouring out the power of the Spirit and granting our requests asked in His Name. Because an active relationship requires present engagement with a person, you cannot have a relationship with Jesus without boldly approaching the throne of grace to ask and receive good things and miracles. Jesus on the throne is the only Jesus that exists. Jesus on the cross does not exist anymore. You cannot have a relationship with Jesus on the cross. It is impossible.

Think about it: Jesus commands us to do the Lord’s Supper “in remembrance of Me” (Luke 22:19), which presupposes that normally, you’re not fixated on the cross every waking moment. The cross is the entry point, but the relationship is living in the resurrection power. Paul says in Philippians 3:10 (LEB), “to know him and the power of his resurrection.” Knowing Him includes that power—resurrection life flowing through you, manifesting in healings, provisions, signs, and wonders. Don’t just remember the cross; live the upgraded throne positioned life.

Forgiveness is the doorway, but sitting at the King’s table, feasting on the blessings of God with thankfulness—that’s the relationship. To linger at the doorway when the King has invited you in is a disgrace to His hospitality. It’s like showing up to a banquet, standing in the foyer mumbling about how grateful you are for the invitation, but never touching the food. Grab the bread of healing, pour the wine of joy, claim the meat of prosperity—that honors the King! Jesus said in Matthew 11:28-30 (NLT), “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Rest isn’t idleness; it’s ceasing from your own labors to enjoy His provisions. And hey, what level of dumb turns down free divine catering?

If you insist on camping at the doorway of forgiveness, refusing to step in and experience what He’s prepared, don’t be surprised when He says, “I never knew you” (Matthew 7:23). Knowing implies intimacy, shared experiences. He’ll look at you and say, “I never saw you at the table. I don’t remember giving you healing for that sickness, prosperity to break that poverty cycle, power to cast out that demon, miracles to turn your mess into a testimony. I don’t remember you asking, and then Me giving you what you want. I don’t know you because you never claimed what I died to give.” That’s not harsh; that’s biblical reality. In Matthew 25:12, the foolish virgins are shut out with “I don’t know you” because they weren’t prepared to enter the feast. You are not identified as on team Jesus until you enter in and partake of the good things the King has given you.

Let me hammer this home with another angle, drawing from the Staff of God principle I unpacked in my essay. God gave Moses the staff—His own power delegated—but when Moses whined at the Red Sea, God snapped, “Why are you crying out to me? Tell the people to get moving! Pick up your staff and raise your hand over the sea. Divide the water” (Exodus 14:15-16 NLT). The power was already in Moses’ hand; he just had to use it. Same with us: Jesus has given us His authority (Luke 10:19), His Spirit (Acts 1:8), His blessings (Ephesians 1:3). A relationship means wielding that staff—commanding healing, prosperity, miracles—not begging like a pauper. Moses had a staff; we’ve got the ultimate upgrade kit—don’t leave it in the box!

To stay fixated on forgiveness alone, treating it as the sum total, risks hearing those chilling words from Matthew 7:23: “Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!'” Jesus won’t recognize those who never ventured beyond the entryway, never sat at His table to receive healing, prosperity, power, and miracles. He prepared these blessings not as optional luxuries but as integral to knowing Him intimately. God is the God and creator of all things. In our relationship to the Creator and Benefactor of all things, He gives and we receive. There is no other way to have a relationship with the God who creates and controls all things. I hate that I must take time to say this, but sickness is given by Satan, not God. Satan and sickness are bad. God and healing are good. Acts 10:38 says sickness is bad, from the devil, not God, and Jesus who is good takes away sickness. Isaiah 54:15 says if bad people attack you, which is a bad thing, God didn’t send them. God is good and so He will give you something good like protection and victory. He gives good things, you receive good things and miracles. That’s how the relationship works. There is no other God but this God; there is no other relationship to have with God but this one. Think of it like this: if a king invites you into his palace after pardoning your debts, and you camp out in the foyer, refusing the banquet, the chambers, the counsel—how long before he questions your loyalty? It’s not just a rejection of the pardon; it is a rejection of the full relationship he offers; it is a rejection of the man himself.

In closing, a deep relationship with Jesus isn’t some ethereal, feel-good notion. It’s heat and light—tangible, life-changing power. If you’re not experiencing it, repent, believe the promises, and step through the doorway to the table. God’s not consulting you on this; He’s already provided it all through the cross. Claim it, live it, honor Him by enjoying it. If you don’t know the heat of the Spirit and the light of answered prayers and miracles, you do not have a relationship with Jesus. There is no other God but this God. There is no other relationship but this one. So, grab your spiritual sunglasses and step into the sunshine—it’s waiting!

Whose Side Are You On?

In a world where sensations scream louder than scripture for the faith-fumblers, the call to confession isn’t some mystical chant—it’s the bold declaration of God’s unshakeable truth over the fleeting shadows of experience. We’ve all been there, staring down giants that loom large in our sight, whether it’s a diagnosis that defies hope, a financial pit that swallows dreams, or a relational rift that feels irreparable. But here’s the divine directive: confess God, not Goliath. This isn’t about denying reality’s bite; it’s about affirming the Creator who bites back harder, reshaping that reality according to His promises. Faith isn’t a whisper in the wind; it’s a thunderclap that commands mountains to move and giants to fall. And if your faith feels more like a polite cough, don’t worry—we’ll amp it up to thunder level soon.

Let’s start with the basics, drawing from the well of scripture that never runs dry. Confession, in biblical terms, is the act of saying the same thing as God. We’re agreeing with His revelation rather than inductive speculations from the five senses. Romans 10:9-10 lays it out plainly: “If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.” Notice the progression—faith is birthed in the mind, then voiced through the mouth, and that confession seals the deal. This is spiritual mechanics controlled and ensured by the Almighty. Yet, so many Christians fumble this, agreeing with their aches and anxieties instead of the atonement. They spot Goliath’s spear and start negotiating terms of surrender, all while claiming to trust the Sovereign. Talk about a theological facepalm.

Take Abraham, the father of faith, as our prime exhibit. In Romans 4:17-21, Paul paints a picture of a man who stared down barrenness and old age, yet didn’t flinch. “Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, ‘So shall your offspring be.’ Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah’s womb was also dead. Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised.” Abraham didn’t confess, “I’m childless and creaky.” No, he called things that were not as though they were, echoing God’s own creative speech in Genesis. His empirical sensations shouted infertility, but his confession echoed eternity. He agreed with God’s promise, not his circumstances, and reality bent to that faith. If Abraham had played the “realist” card, confessing his old age, doctor reports, and YouTube statistics on having children after 90, then he’d have stayed Abram the barren. But he didn’t, and if we are true children of Abraham’s faith, then we should confess the promise over reality. Our confessions aren’t reports on the weather; they’re decrees based on God’s Word that change the climate. Picture Abraham as the original weatherman, he knew the weather because his faith dictate the course of his life.

Now, contrast that with Israel’s epic fumble in Numbers 13-14. God had promised them a land flowing with milk and honey, a contract carved in divine faithfulness. He sends spies to scout it, and what do they bring back? A report laced with unbelief: “We saw the Nephilim there (the descendants of Anak come from the Nephilim). We seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them.” (Numbers 13:33). They confessed their smallness, agreeing with the giants’ stature over God’s promise. It wasn’t a lie—the cities were fortified, the people were huge—but it was a betrayal of God’s revealed promise. God had said, “I am giving you this land,” yet they wailed, “We can’t attack those people; they are stronger than we are.” (Numbers 13:31). And God, in His anger, responded: “As surely as I live, declares the Lord, I will do to you the very thing I heard you say.” (Numbers 14:28). He made them wander until that faithless generation dropped dead in the desert. Their confession aligned with sensations, not His revelation, and it cost them the inheritance. Today, we see the same spiritual sabotage—folks facing cancer confessing, “This is too big for me,” or poverty proclaiming, “I’ll never break free.” They’re agreeing with Goliath, and God lets them reap the wilderness they sowed. It’s not cruelty for God to make their empirical confessions self-fulfilling prophecies; it’s the least they earned. Faith-fumblers are trash—they peddle unbelief like it’s piety, limiting the Holy One of Israel who parted seas and raised the dead. It’s like bringing a defeatist attitude to a victory parade—total buzzkill.

Ah, but then there’s David, the shepherd boy who schooled a giant in theology. In 1 Samuel 17, Goliath struts out, nine feet of Philistine fury, defying Israel’s armies: “This day I defy the armies of Israel! Give me a man and let us fight each other.” (v. 10). The Israelites quaked, confessing defeat before the battle began. “When the Israelites saw the man, they all fled from him in great fear.” (v. 24). They agreed with Goliath’s taunts, measuring their might by his muscles. Enter David, fresh from tending sheep, armed not with armor but with audacity born of faith. He hears the giant’s bluster and retorts, “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?” (v. 26). David didn’t confess Goliath’s strength; he confessed God’s supremacy. “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hands… and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel.” (vv. 45-46). His confession wasn’t rooted in his slingshot skills but in God’s power and promise to help His chosen ones. He slung that stone, and Goliath’s head hit the ground—literally. David didn’t agree with the giant; rather, he confessed the Greater One. If he had joined the chorus of cowards, Saul’s army would have stayed sidelined. But one boy’s faith decree shifted the battlefield. His faith turned Goliath into a punchline.

This pattern pulses through scripture, a divine drumbeat urging us to align our lips with His promises. Sickness, for instance, isn’t God’s fingerprints; it’s Satan’s graffiti on your body. Yet, how many confess the curse instead of the cure? Acts 10:38 reminds us Jesus “went around doing good and healing all who were under the power of the devil,” because oppression comes from the devil, not our Father. When we confess healing—”By His wounds I am healed” (Isaiah 53:5)—we decree the report of God’s atonement news, not the doctor reports. If you agree with the symptoms, then you’re siding with Satan, letting him sideline saints while you slap a “God’s will” sticker on it. That’s not faith; that’s joining with demons to fight against God. It’s like high-fiving the villain mid-battle—awkward and unhelpful to say it midly.

Don’t get me wrong—confession isn’t denial; it’s dominion over reality. Abraham faced his dead body but didn’t use those observations as his starting point for knowledge. Israel saw the giants but should have seen God’s word as stronger. However, because they used their observations as a starting point for knowledge, their sensations became a foundation to disbelieve the faithfulness of God. David eyed Goliath’s size but proclaimed God’s power, because God’s Word was his starting point for knowledge, not his observations. In our lives, this means daily declarations drown out doubt and renew our minds in God’s Word. Facing financial famine? Confess Philippians 4:19: “My God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.” Battling illness? Proclaim Psalm 103:3: “He forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases.” It’s not overly optimistic; it’s obedience to God, respecting His Word as more powerful than observations. Imagine Goliath trash-talking, only for a kid to reply, “Your spear’s big, but my God’s bigger. Let’s dance.” That’s the guaranteed faith brings, cutting through observations like David’s stone through Philistine pride. No need for a gym membership when faith does the heavy lifting.

Ah, those faith-fumblers—spiritual garbage peddling unbelief like it’s holy incense. They spot Goliath’s shadow and immediately confess their own smallness, agreeing with the giant’s taunts as if echoing Satan’s playbook pleases God. Picture David rising to join the chorus of cowards screaming unbelief, agreeing with every sensation screaming at him: Goliath’s spear gleaming, the army trembling, the odds stacked. If he did that, his story would have ended there, and his name forgotten like the rest of the Israelites lined up in the war camp. However, he didn’t confess the enemy’s strength or Israel’s weakness; no, he declared God’s victory as done, slinging faith like a divine haymaker. Today, it’s the same farce: folks facing cancer confess, “We can’t defeat this—it’s too big,” then slap a sovereignty sticker on their surrender, praising God for “working all for His glory” in defeat. As if the Almighty’s plan hinges on our demise! That is insanity; that would be a kingdom divided. The faithless have zero courage, zero spine, teaching flocks to nod along with Goliath, mumbling, “God might help if it’s His will.” They say, “As we can see, God in His sovereignty made Goliath bigger than us, thus, it must be His will for us to lose to the Philistines and be defeated and suffer for God’s glory. Let us suffer for God without complaining.” But David’s roar exposes the lie: God’s will is victory for those who confess His promise over the problem, not cower under it. These fumblers aren’t just wrong; they’re complicit by joining with Goliath, limiting the Holy One who gave a promise. They’re like the bad advice in a choose-your-own-adventure book—pick them, and you end up in the wilderness chapter.

This defective ethic turns theology into tragedy. The faithless don’t just lack belief—they teach others to align with the adversary, confessing circumstances as fate while ignoring Isaiah 53’s stripes that already crushed the curse. Like the Israelites whining about giants, they reap wilderness wanderings, dying slow deaths of doubt. But God calls us to David’s boldness: refute the report, command the cancer to crumble in Jesus’ name, because sovereignty doesn’t sabotage salvation—it secures it for the asker. If they’re praising God for defeat, they’re cheering on the wrong team. They have blood on their hands for fighting against God’s people. Time to flip the script and join the winning side.

Yet, the faith-fumblers persist, teaching unbelief as if the Bible teaches us to doubt God. They say, “God might heal if it’s His will,” while scripture screams, “Ask and it will be given” (Matthew 7:7). They’re the modern spies, reporting giants without reckoning God’s Son who says, “All things are possible for the one who believes,” and “Whatever you ask, believe and you will have it.” We have a better covenant than David or the Israelites, where faith moves mountains (Mark 11:23). Our upgrade includes unlimited miracle miles—claim them.

Whose side are you on? Stop agreeing with Goliath’s growls. Seriously, if you repeat what you see—“how big Goliath is”—and not decree God’s promise, you have already joined with the Philistines. The real battle is a clash of faith vs. unbelief. Because David won the battle of faith-filled words over unbelief, it carried over into his victory over Goliath in the material world. However, the faithless are blind to the fact they are standing with Goliath and facing off against God’s chosen ones. The 10 spies who truthfully spoke what they saw (they were smaller and there were giants in the land) thought they were doing nothing wrong. But God considered them an abomination for speaking empirical data over the promise of God. When observations, even if true, contradict God’s promise, don’t you dare confess them, unless your goal is to become an abomination in God’s sight. If you speak your observation over God’s promise, you are Goliath. You have become an abomination that speaks against God and encourages God’s people to speak against God. You are that man. You have become Goliath. You are not David. You are not a hero of faith. You have become the villain and have aligned yourself with a host of witnesses who include Satan and demons. They started the tradition of questioning God’s Word, and now you have joined with them. Is it now you understand why your life is so messed up? There is a reason why there are so many demonic footholds in your life, and it has to do with your confessions.

Goliath’s bite is real, but his sword bows to a man who has faith. We all must start somewhere. Confess God’s promises relentlessly, day and night, until your faith catches up to your confession. And when it does, heads will begin to roll.

In the end, this isn’t optional; it’s ordained. Hebrews 11 chronicles heroes who confessed victory amid valleys—Abraham, Moses, David—all emulating faith that frames worlds (v. 3). Make sure you’re on team Jesus, not team Goliath. Your giant awaits, but so does your God. Speak His Word, sling your faith, and watch heads roll. After all, in this cosmic showdown, the battle belongs to the Lord—but the confession? That’s on you. And frankly, if you’re still nodding along with Goliath, it’s time to switch sides before the arrows begin to fly, and they will fly soon.