Category Archives: Extra Thoughts

The Power of God Is Here to Heal

In the Gospel of Luke, we encounter a powerful and vivid scene that perfectly illustrates divine authority in action: “One day Jesus was teaching, and Pharisees and teachers of the law were sitting there. They had come from every village of Galilee and from Judea and Jerusalem. And the power of the Lord was with Jesus to heal the sick” (Luke 5:17, NIV).

This wasn’t some vague, ethereal spiritual mist floating around like early morning haze—no way. It was the tangible, manifest presence of God’s raw authority, actively enabling Jesus to confront sickness and demonic oppression head-on, without hesitation. Peter later echoes this truth powerfully in Acts, declaring 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” (Acts 10:38, NIV). This should shake up any believer who’s settled for a powerless version of faith: this identical power, this very anointing of the Holy Spirit, isn’t sealed away in some historical archive exclusively for Jesus. Because of His finished work on the cross, His resurrection, His ascension to the right hand of Power, and His glorious outpouring of the Spirit at Pentecost, we now have direct access to that same explosive force. Yet, far too many of us live as if we’re still waiting for the spiritual UPS truck to finally arrive with our package.

Let’s unpack this thoroughly and biblically, because relying on mere empirical observations or fleshy experiences is about as useful as installing a screen door on a submarine when it comes to discerning God’s revelation. Jesus operated fully as a man under the law, born at the appointed time to redeem those who were trapped beneath it (Galatians 4:4-5). Importantly, He didn’t perform healings by tapping into His inherent divinity during His earthly ministry; instead, He did it all through the anointing of the Holy Spirit, deliberately modeling the pattern for ordinary humanity empowered by God. This is crucial—it shows us exactly how we’re meant to operate today. “If it is by the Spirit of God that I drive out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you,” Matthew 12:28. Jesus tell us plainly that He was casting out demons by the Spirit’s power, not His. And it is for this reason we can be like Jesus, because He has given us the same Spirit empowered ministry. This is why the tired excuse of the faithless, “well that was Jesus, or that was the apostles,” is inexcusable. Excommunicate any such people out of your life.

Jesus Himself issued this staggering promise that should ignite every believer: “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” (John 14:12, NIV). If that doesn’t feel like a direct invitation to step boldly into the same arena of supernatural power, then what would?

Consider the seamless transition from Jesus’ earthly ministry to the ongoing ministry of His church. He ascended to heaven not to retire comfortably on a cloud strumming a harp, but to actively pour out the promised Holy Spirit—the baptism specifically for power (Acts 1:4-8). This isn’t some optional premium upgrade reserved for a select spiritual elite; it’s the standard, essential equipment for every genuine disciple who’s serious about advancing God’s kingdom on earth. Peter drove this home unmistakably on the day of Pentecost: repent, be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit—this promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far off, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to himself (Acts 2:38-39, NIV). Paul reinforces and expands this in Galatians, connecting the blessing of Abraham—which explicitly includes receiving the Spirit through faith—to us Gentiles as well, all through Christ Jesus (Galatians 3:14, NIV). We’re not talking about a faint, barely audible whisper of the Spirit here; this is rivers of living water flowing powerfully from within the believer, empowering us to heal the sick, prophesy boldly, cast out demons decisively, and turn the world upside down, just as the early church demonstrated so vividly.

Sadly, too many Christians today treat this available power like it’s some expired container of yogurt hidden in the back of the fridge—technically still there, but they’d rather not risk opening it. They’ll often hide behind a misunderstood view of God’s sovereignty, as if His absolute control somehow turns us into passive fatalists with no responsibility to act. But they conveniently overlook that the very same sovereign God commands us explicitly to eagerly desire and pursue spiritual gifts (1 Corinthians 14:1). I’ve personally observed how unbelief can cleverly masquerade as false piety or intellectual humility, effectively blocking the free flow of God’s power in our lives and ministries. Some believers are quick to claim forgiveness solely by faith without hesitation, yet when the topic shifts to healing or miracles, suddenly it becomes “only if it’s God’s will.” That’s inconsistent nonsense. If we applied that same doubtful logic to forgiveness, we’d pray in faith for forgiveness while secretly wondering if God might sovereignly choose not to grant it after all. Total faithless hypocrisy. Let’s call it what it is; a mockery of the atonement of Jesus and the sovereignty of God.

The Bible consistently frames healing as the children’s bread, an integral part of the blessing of Abraham that we inherit and claim through bold faith (Matthew 15:26-28; Galatians 3:13-14). Jesus never paused to check the Father’s current mood or get special permission before healing someone; He simply acted in compassion, systematically destroying the works of Satan because the power of the Lord was present to heal (Luke 13:16; Acts 10:38). And that power source? None other than the Holy Spirit—the same One Jesus promised and poured out upon all believers.

Think about the story of the woman with the issue of blood for twelve long years. She didn’t wait passively for a divine memorandum or scheduled appointment; she pressed through the crowd, touched the hem of Jesus’ garment in faith, and immediately power flowed out from Him to heal her completely (Luke 8:43-48). Jesus Himself felt the power go out; she felt the healing surge through her body—it was undeniably real and tangible, like a surge of spiritual electricity coursing through a live wire. That’s precisely the kind of dynamic, faith-activated encounter we’re all invited into today. We don’t beg or grovel; we believe and receive, because our judgment was fully settled at the cross, leaving only grace and empowerment ahead for God’s children (Hebrews 12:1-11). Yet, influenced by defective or cessationist theology, some make endless excuses for why the power doesn’t manifest consistently today. They’ll say things like, “Well, we just don’t see it in our experience anymore,” as if their observations are an epistemology over the promises of Scripture.  Seriously, how dumb can you be, to think knowledge comes by observation? That’s not being real; that’s unbelief and delusion.

Vincent Cheung puts it sharply when he writes (paraphrased from “Habitual Sin,” Sermonettes Vol. 6): a stubborn focus on sin or lack can dominate our thinking, but true faith shifts attention to holiness and draws continual strength from Christ’s ongoing work.

 Applying this to the realm of power, if we fixate on our perceived shortcomings or past failures instead of Christ’s finished gospel, we’ll inevitably miss out on His healing, His provision, and even the full baptism of the Holy Spirit. But for those born from above, it’s all ours for the eager asking—persistently, expectantly, just like the disciples waiting obediently in the upper room in Jerusalem. And when that power finally breaks through? Get ready for the unexpected fireworks: explosive boldness to preach the gospel fearlessly, spiritual gifts manifesting suddenly and powerfully, demons fleeing in terror, and sickness bowing in defeat. I’ve experienced this transformation in my own life—after seasons of divine discipline and refining, intentionally focusing on Jesus as the author and perfecter of our faith opened wide doors to greater measures of supernatural power. It’s not theoretical or mystical; it’s functional and practical, directly advancing the kingdom with every single healing, every accurate prophecy, every impossible mountain moved by faith.

So, why on earth would anyone settle for a version of Christianity that’s all eloquent talk and zero thunderous demonstration? The same power of God that rested upon Jesus for healing is now available upon us, accessed through faith and the baptism in the Holy Spirit. It’s not something we earn through performance; it’s something we receive freely because it’s already been accomplished by Christ and we have already be re-created by its effects. If you’re still dragging your feet or making excuses, remember: unbelief actually limited what even Jesus could do in certain places during His ministry (Mark 6:5-6). Don’t let that same unbelief limit God’s power in and through your life. Seek the baptism earnestly, stir up the gifts already within you, command sickness to leave in Jesus’ name by faith, and watch God’s power flow freely. After all, as true heirs of Abraham’s blessing, we’re not beggars scrambling for crumbs outside the gate; we’re beloved sons and daughters seated at the Father’s table, with healing, miracles, deliverance, and every good gift in plentiful supply.

The Bible doesn’t leave us in the dark about how the Holy Spirit operates in distributing His gifts. In 1 Corinthians 12, Paul explains clearly: the Spirit sovereignly distributes the manifestations as He determines, moving where He wills like the unpredictable wind. No one can twist His arm—He’s God, sovereign and free. Yet, immediately following this, Paul flips the perspective in chapter 14: “Pursue love, and earnestly desire the spiritual gifts, especially that you may prophesy” (1 Corinthians 14:1, ESV). Sovereignty doesn’t mean we passively sit on our hands waiting indefinitely; it means we pursue aggressively and eagerly, fully confident that He’s promised regular manifestations to those who hunger and seek Him. It’s reminiscent of the Father’s incredibly generous heart described in Luke 11: “If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (Luke 11:13, ESV). So ask boldly, seek persistently, knock relentlessly—and expect to receive abundantly. God’s sovereignty isn’t a roadblock or excuse for powerlessness; it’s the rock-solid guarantee that our faithful pursuit will never end in disappointment.

This dynamic will happen frequently in real ministry. The gifts are primarily for the edification and benefit of others. So whenever a genuine need arises and you respond with true compassion, the power of the Spirit will often show up right then to anoint you specifically to meet that need. It doesn’t depend on whether you’ve previously operated easily in that particular gift; you’re freshly anointed in the moment to serve those around you. Of course, some believers may find certain gifts flow more naturally or frequently for them, but many make the grave error of then limiting the Holy Spirit based on that pattern. In reality, all of us, through the same Spirit, have unrestricted access to the full spectrum of God’s power. All it takes is faith to believe, a clear need to address, and genuine compassion to motivate—and the Spirit will desire to flow through you even more eagerly than you desire it yourself.

Just as the woman with the flow of blood dramatically “felt” the healing power surge into her body, the Spirit’s power is often tangible and perceptible. When the healing anointing of the Spirit is sensed or felt by more than one person in the room, we can describe this as the manifesting presence of God has arrived to heal—or to prophesy, or to deliver. This incredible reality is available to every single one of us through the baptism in the Holy Spirit. We all need more of it, deeper immersions, fresh fillings. The needs of hurting people around us, but the power of the Spirit is greater. A combination of faith, compassion, and eagerness to seek this power will inevitably bring results. As Jesus Himself promised, if you seek, you will find (Matthew 7:7, ESV).

Paul reiterates the Spirit’s sovereignty in 1 Corinthians 12: “All these are empowered by one and the same Spirit, who apportions to each one individually as he wills” (1 Corinthians 12:11, ESV). He sovereignly distributes gifts like words of wisdom, words of knowledge, extraordinary faith, gifts of healing, working of miracles, prophecy, discerning of spirits, various kinds of tongues, and interpretation of tongues. It’s entirely His prerogative—no coercion possible. But sovereignty isn’t a restrictive cage; it’s a powerful catapult for those who pursue. Paul doesn’t instruct us to “sit tight and maybe you’ll get something someday.” Instead, he commands: “Earnestly desire the higher gifts” (1 Corinthians 12:31, ESV), and then intensifies the call in chapter 14 to pursue them all actively, especially prophecy. God’s sovereignty has beautifully rigged the system so that sincere seekers consistently hit the jackpot—regular, reliable manifestations of power rather than rare flukes. So if you currently operate more easily in one or two gifts, ok great—keep going! But press in further, and God will expand your capacity to flow in more gifts as you seek Him faithfully. A person’s perceived idea that they are meant to operate in one particular gift, is based only their fleshing induction rather than what the scripture makes available.

Sovereignty isn’t stingy or withholding—it’s extravagantly generous, even breaking through our doubts to deliver miracles when necessary. But why settle for occasional overrides when we can align our hearts with His will and experience constant flow? Active seeking aligns us perfectly, turning “sometimes” into “constant” in practice. The Spirit’s sovereignty assures us that when we chase Him wholeheartedly, He will pour out without measure. As Cheung further notes in “Good Gifts from the Father,” persistently asking for the Holy Spirit unlocks comprehensive power for preaching, healing, casting out demons—everything the kingdom requires, all in one glorious package (Vincent Cheung, 2016). Seek diligently, and the sovereign Spirit will manifest regularly.

Consider the Roman centurion in Matthew 8— he perfectly understood authority and sovereignty, confidently declaring that Jesus could simply speak a command over sickness just as he commanded soldiers. Jesus marveled publicly: “Truly I tell you, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith” (Matthew 8:10, ESV). Grasping God’s sovereignty didn’t make the centurion passive or hesitant—it fueled his bold, expectant request. Sickness is ultimately from the devil; it glorifies Satan by sidelining believers and stalling kingdom advance. The Holy Spirit shows up decisively to demolish that oppression, anointing ordinary believers like you and me to heal in the moment—no fancy resume or prior track record required.

Compassion is key.

This anointing will often happen precisely because the gifts are for building up and blessing others. When a real need suddenly appears on the scene, the Spirit provides spot-anointing, equipping you right then and there. You don’t need advanced degrees in spiritual gifts or years of specialized experience; all that’s required is some measure of faith to receive the anointing and genuine compassion to minister to the hurting person.

Sickness originates from the devil; it’s part of the curse of the law that Jesus redeemed us from, and He began demolishing it systematically in His ministry while commanding all His disciples to continue the battle without compromise. We are explicitly commanded to exercise faith for healing—both for ourselves and in compassion for others. Chase prophecy like your spiritual life depends on it—because in many ways, it does. Refusing to pursue prophecy is essentially refusing to pursue God Himself more deeply. Remember Paul’s charge to Timothy: fan into flame the gift of God within you, hold fast to the prophecies spoken over you, and fight the good fight of faith with prophetic power (1 Timothy 1:18; 2 Timothy 1:6-7).  Having compassion and allowing the Spirit to flow through you to help heal, will set a person free from bondage. A prophecy will give them something to fan their faith for a lifetime. And you can be the person to minister this. Young, old, male or female, any can do it. Every power released can save a life, set free and build up for new strength.

In the end, this supernatural power is designed not only for God’s ultimate glory but also for our joy and glory, which then glorifies Him. We do this by faithfully mirroring Jesus’ own ministry on earth. It’s like God’s delightful inside joke: when we step out and wield His power by faith, we get flooded with joy in the process, and everybody wins eternally. So chase Him with everything you’ve got, and watch the power chase right back. Believe expectantly, and you’ll see the sick healed, the oppressed gloriously freed, captives released—just as He did then and empowers us to do now. The question isn’t whether the power is still available today; the real question is whether we’ll grab it with both hands and run with it—like it’s the greatest treasure in the universe. Because, spoiler alert: it is.

Reclaiming What the Enemy Stole

You’ve asked a question that cuts right to the heart of the spiritual battle many believers face: how to recover what the devil has stolen, particularly in areas like health, family relationships, and finances. I appreciate that you did not put on the polished pretense some folks adopt when they’re hurting. That’s refreshing—no time for sleight of hand when the fight is real.

The enemy doesn’t play fair; he slithers in like the serpent he is, aiming to devour and destroy, as Jesus described in John 10:10. Some might forget there is a real fight, a real kingdom battle. Once you sign on to join God’s kingdom, Satan has more reason to steal, kill and destroy you, because of how great of a potential danger you represent if you ever realize how powerful you are. Jesus says Satan does this, not humans. The kingdom of demons are after you. Peter starts the gospel message to the gentiles on this basic contrast of Jesus the good guy, freeing us from the bad guy called the devil (see Vincent Cheung “The Dividing Line”). But here’s the good news, straight from the Scriptures: the thief comes to steal, kill, and destroy, yet Jesus came that we might have life, and have it abundantly. That abundance isn’t some vague spiritual fluff; it’s tangible, covering every area Satan has touched. We’ll unpack this biblically, drawing from God’s Revelation, because human observation is just a fancy way to peddle unbelief. If we’re not swinging the sword of the Spirit with precision, we’re just shadowboxing while the devil laughs at our pathetic swings.

First, understand the source of the theft. The Bible doesn’t mince words: sickness, broken relationships, and lack aren’t badges of piety from a loving Father; they’re Satan’s bit@h slaps across your face. Sickness is Satan’s glory, not God’s. Peter put it plainly in Acts 10:38, describing how Jesus went about healing all who were oppressed by the devil. Oppressed—that’s the key word here. Sickness isn’t God’s mysterious will; it’s demonic victimization pure and simple. Jesus saw it as a direct affront to His Father’s kingdom, smashing it wherever He encountered it, except where unbelief blocked the flow, as in Mark 6:5-6. If sickness were from God on the relational level—where He deals with us through the New Covenant—then Jesus would be a minister of sickness, pain, and oppression. That is a ministry, alright, but that’s Satan’s priesthood, not Jesus’.

He was demolishing the works of the devil (1 John 3:8). The same goes for family strife and financial drought; they’re echoes of the curse in Deuteronomy 28, which Christ redeemed us from, as Galatians 3:13 declares. The Father decided that my curses were taken off me and nailed to Jesus. I agree that God is correct. I don’t bear curses of sickness, financial lack, and relational distress anymore. That old man died with Jesus and my new creation has already been raised with Jesus.

Satan steals health to sideline you, relationships to isolate you, and finances to impoverish your testimony and limit your impact. But God has decreed restoration through faith in Christ’s finished work. And that is the point. Jesus already finished our righteousness, healing, and wealth. We don’t work or earn this, but receive it by faith. Our work is to rest in what Jesus has already worked, and already given to us as part of our identity and definition in Him.

Now, how do we receive it back? It starts with epistemology—our foundation of knowledge. God’s Word is the self-authenticating first principle, the only starting point of knowledge that connects us to reality. Without it, we’re building on less than nothing. Therefore, we can deduce application to ourselves, including faith to move mountains. We know all things are possible for those who believe (Mark 9:23). This isn’t wishful thinking; it’s a syllogism—or the biblical way to say syllogism is faith. Jesus didn’t say “some things” or “spiritual things only”—He said all things. The context was about healing and casting out a demon. Thus, all healing and casting out demons are possible for the one who believes without wavering.

That includes your health, your family bonds, and your wallet. But receiving requires faith without doubting, not passive resignation as a fatalist. We need to have a relentless focus on our healing, on the word of God about healing day and night. We are not to focus on our sickness; we are to focus on the healing already accomplished by Jesus in His finished atonement. Extend that to every stolen area: don’t rehearse the loss; confess dauntless confidence in God’s promises. I mean exactly that and not some passive begging or pleading for God to help. You need to renew the mind on the word of God, day and night, particularly on the good promises in the areas you need miracles. Then hear yourself speak them out loud by bold confessions. That is, confessing them without hedging for any possibility of you not getting what you are saying. The woman stretched out and said, “If I might only touch the edge of his clothes, I WILL BE HEALED.” Bold confession and no hedging whatsoever. Your heart might want to still hedge, but that is irrelevant. You are not confessing your feelings, but faith in the word of God. Hedging is just doubt in a tuxedo—kick it out; God’s promises don’t need a plan B.

Let’s apply this to health first, since it’s often the most immediate battleground. Isaiah 53:4-5 is prophecy fulfilled in Christ’s atonement. Matthew 8:17 confirms it: Jesus took our infirmities and bore our diseases. In the substitutionary atonement, Jesus took 39 stripes in exchange for our healing. It is already done. In the Father’s mind, He decided our sicknesses were taken off us and put on Jesus as those 39 stripes. Satan stole your health? Ok, but it’s not his to keep—demand it back. Command it back in Jesus’ name, with faith that doesn’t waver. Speak to the mountain—be it cancer, chronic pain, or fatigue—and tell it to go (Mark 11:23). If you’re praying for healing while secretly thinking, “Well, maybe God’s teaching me something,” you’re double-minded, and James 1:6-8 says don’t expect to receive anything. God wants your health more than you do; He’s not the cosmic sadist some theologians paint Him as. Those “pseudo-sovereignty” excuses are Satan’s bedtime stories to keep you sick.

Shifting to family relationships, the devil loves to fracture what God designed for unity and strength. Broken bonds aren’t just emotional wreckage; they’re strategic hits to hinder your ministry and your joy. God gave Rebekah to Isaac to comfort him in his grief from Sarah’s death. The blessing of Abraham gives good relationships. Scripture ties this to the blessing of Abraham, which Galatians 3 extends to us Gentiles through faith. Jesus called the bent-over woman a “child of Abraham” (Luke 13:16), using her covenant status as the reason she must be loosed from Satan’s bondage—not optional, but necessary and mandatory. Apply that here: as heirs of Abraham’s blessing, which includes relational harmony under God’s favor, you have authority to bind the enemy’s division and loose forgiveness, reconciliation, and love. If you need to ask forgiveness then ask them. If not plausible for you to talk to them, stand before the presence of God, because you are already seated there with Christ. In God’s mind you are already in the throne room before Him. You need to catch up to your true identity in Christ. So, stand before God and ask for help. Stand before God, in the Spirit, and confess that you have forgiven and if you need to do something, that once God opens the door, you will do what God has asked you to do. Tell God, as you stand before Him, that you consider the relationship reconciled and healed.

If you need to forgive, then forgive them outright. Ephesians 4:32 says, forgiving as Christ forgave. This doesn’t mean to open the door to abusive people; but the context is for a relationship you want restored. Jesus not only became our sins to give us righteousness but also He is our “sanctification.” It’s His responsibility to sanctify us. Rest and confess in His power to soften your heart. Pray in faith for softened hearts, commanding peace in Jesus’ name. If you’re harboring bitterness, that’s your disobedience handing Satan more rope to hang you with. And when he does it, don’t you dare blame God for your own stupidity—own it. When you are doing something wrong you won’t receive a complete or permanent miracle if you keep sinning. Sin won’t keep a miracle from you, because Jesus healed all who came to Him, but the miracle won’t last if you don’t address the root of the disobedient behavior. Sin didn’t stop anyone from receiving their healing miracle, but if not stopped, it can reopen the door to allow the devil to harass you with more sickness again. This can happen back and forth for a while, but eventually the reopening door can give birth to death; the devil can sling such a fast sickness on you, you die before you can focus your faith. But with faith you can always receive your miracle on demand, no matter what; every single time.

Finances follow the same pattern—Satan steals provision to mock God’s promises, to keep you unhappy, to keep you from your inheritance in Christ and restrict God’s kingdom from being financed properly. However, the Bible counters with abundance. Deuteronomy 28:1-14 lists prosperity as part of obedience’s blessing. The good news is that Jesus was obedient for us in our place and then credited His righteousness to our account, so that we are perfectly obedient and righteous in God’s sight. Forever and irrevocable. We’re not under the law’s curse but under grace, where God supplies all needs according to His riches in glory (Philippians 4:19). Not us supplying it, no. God supplies it to us. It’s His responsibility. We receive it by faith.

God’s covenant with Abraham included supernatural healing, not sickness. If sickness or financial lack happens, God did not send it (Isaiah 54). Someone else sent it, not God.

Broaden that to provision; Abraham’s blessing encompasses material wealth (Genesis 13:2), and we’re heirs (Galatians 3:29). To receive back stolen finances, sow in faith—tithe, give generously—and confess Scriptures like Psalm 23:1, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” Confess, “I agree with you Jesus. You are correct. You took on my poverty and already gave me your wealth. You give me wealth transfers from the wicked and give me the power to gain wealth. My experience of lack is a lie against your truth; forgive me. I declare my lack broken. Thank you.”

Command increase in Jesus’ name, believing it’s already yours. “Whatever is hindering my finances I command you to stop. I command wealth to find its way into my bank account.” Ask God for wisdom in how to gain wealth, and for ideas for a new product to sell. God will give liberally.

Don’t fall for the prosperity-gospel-lite nonsense. Paul says Jesus took on our poverty. That is, in God’s eyes, my lack was transferred on Jesus, like the scapegoat, and Jesus carried away my poverty to the cross, where He died with my poverty. I don’t have it, because Jesus took it away, in the mind of God. And God’s mind is the only mind that matters. But it also says Jesus gave us His wealth. This is the same Paul who spoke of substitutionary atonement as, Jesus took on our sins and gave us the righteousness of God. This is true, because God thinks it is true in His mind. It is a true exchange. Not later in heaven, but right now I am the righteousness of God. Because I am righteous I am already seated in the heavenly places with Christ and my prayers are powerfully effective. Paul says the same about financial wealth. I already have the wealth of Jesus. If I don’t see it, it is because I am so lazy there is nothing for God to increase the work of my hands. You have to do something. But it is also lack of knowledge and faith. The normal or regular way to gain wealth is God supernaturally giving you favor and power to gain wealth in what you do. But there are many other ways as well. God causes the pagans to freely give wealth to the righteous, such as Egypt giving their riches to the Israelites. Or kings giving ransoms to Abraham. You can have faith to multiply material substance. The list goes on and on for many various ways for miracle money to bless you. Satan’s financial purse snatch? More like a speed bump for the faithful—run him over.

God has given us this wealth in Jesus to simply bless us with joy and happiness. The other reason to bless others and finance the Kingdom of God. Satan wants to cockblock the saints from their inheritance and many allow him to do so. But you, do not allow it for a moment. Grab Satan by the head and slam his face in the ground over and over, and tell him he will get the same treatment if he shows his ugly face again.

This is Christianity 101. It’s what we all should have been doing all along. Immerse yourself in Scripture day and night, as Joshua 1:8 commands, meditating on promises until you automatically find yourself speaking the word and promise of God, rather than your circumstance or feelings. You will know when your mind keeps replaying God’s promises, seeing yourself in a good future of the promise, rather than fear of the future. Confess them aloud—faith comes by hearing (Romans 10:17). For health, declare Isaiah 53 daily; for family, pray unity from Psalm 133; for finances, claim 3 John 2’s prosperity in soul and body. Etc. I have made many lists over the years of promise verses and have pounded them in my head to the point I wanted to scream, but I kept at it until my mind changed.

Avoid unbelief peddlers who say, “Maybe it’s God’s will”—that’s devil dogmatics, staining their hands with the blood of God’s saints. Chase prophecy and spiritual gifts too, as Paul urged Timothy (1 Timothy 1:18, 4:14); they empower the fight. If needed, seek elders for anointing (James 5:14-15), but your own faith is the key. There is no substitute for your own faith in the promises of God.

Remember your identity: seated with the resurrected Christ, far above all powers (Ephesians 2:6). Your new creation isn’t a refurbished version of your old self; it’s a total reboot, a supernatural species upgrade. Satan stole? Big deal—Jesus stripped him at the cross (Colossians 2:15). Due to our imperfect faith, it’s not always instant, but it’s inevitable for the believer who stands firm. Mature faith will see constant and instant results. We are all to strive to get to that place of maturity. And if doubt creeps in, laugh it off—Satan’s the ultimate loser, after all, a cosmic joke with no punchline left.

Do Not Expect a Small Payout

The Bible doesn’t let thieves off easy; in fact, it demands restitution that multiplies the loss, turning the tables on the enemy with divine justice. Take Exodus 22:1-4, where a thief caught stealing an ox must repay fivefold, and for a sheep, four times over—God’s law embedding a principle that wrongdoers don’t just return what’s taken but cough up extra to make the victim whole and then some. Proverbs 6:31 ramps it up, declaring that even if a thief steals out of desperation, once nabbed, he must restore sevenfold, even if it costs him everything in his house.

This isn’t just Old Testament law; it’s a shadow of the greater reality in Christ, where Satan, the ultimate thief, gets hit with the same demand—hard.

Joel 2:25 captures God’s prophetic heart: “I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, my great army which I sent among you.” What the “worm” or locust devoured—those seasons of health drained, relationships frayed, finances stripped—God promises to repay in abundance, not stingily but lavishly. Don’t you dare limit God and look for a small payout. Isaiah 43:19-20 echoes this turnaround: “Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert… to give drink to my chosen people.”

Picture it—streams gushing in barren wastelands, life where death once reigned. As a new creation in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17), this restoration kicks in automatically, because our new creation is already a reality. Our new creation is already us, already here. We are new creatures in Christ. Not going to be, we are. Thus, many things happen automatically to some degree; the old barren life is gone, and the abundant one has begun, with blessings already deposited in your spiritual account. Ephesians says that all spiritual blessings (which is the foundation for all material blessings) have already been given to us. Not later, we already have ALL blessings given to us. But to unlock that hundredfold return on these blessings already given—you’ve got to receive it through faith. There is no substitute for this or a way to skip this part. Paul said in Galatians 3 that by faith they had been experiencing the power of the Spirit and miracles, which Paul then says was given to them as the blessing of Abraham in Jesus’ exchange for taking our curses. The point is this, by faith the Galatians received the blessings of Abraham in miracles, but the miracles stopped because they stopped using faith and tried using the works of the law. Thus, even though they already had the blessing of Abraham they could forfeit receiving the benefits of miracles by lack of faith. You need faith to receive them—no shortcuts.

Renew your mind with Scripture (Romans 12:2), make bold faith confessions like commanding mountains to move (Mark 11:23), persist in prayer (James 5:15), build yourself up by praying in tongues, keeping yourself in God’s love (Jude 1:20), and straight-up order the devil to release what’s yours, wielding the authority Christ gave over all the enemy’s power (Luke 10:19). We don’t beg like we once did. Now it’s enforcing the court order from heaven’s throne—and frankly, if Satan’s been joyriding in your stolen goods, it’s high time he pays the premium price with interest.

Baptism in the Holy Spirit isn’t some optional upgrade; it’s the power surge that turns faith from a flickering candle into a blazing inferno, equipping you for the ministry battles the disciples themselves couldn’t tackle without it. Jesus didn’t mince words in Acts 1:4-5,8, instructing His followers to wait in Jerusalem for the promise of the Father: “John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit… you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses.” The disciples, fresh from resurrection encounters, still needed this empowerment before launching into global ministry—think about that, if those eyewitnesses required it, how much more do we in our doubt-prone age? This baptism ties directly to Jesus’ exaltation, seated at the right hand of Power (Mark 14:62), from where He pours out the Spirit as Acts 2:33 describes: “Being therefore exalted at the right hand of God, and having received from the Father the promise of the Holy Spirit, he has poured out this that you yourselves are seeing and hearing.”

We’ve got access to the same explosive force that shook Pentecost, manifesting in miracles, healings, and prophecies to demolish Satan’s strongholds. But here’s where it gets practical and, yeah, a bit relentless: pray in tongues day and night! Yes, you heard that right—day and night, as 1 Corinthians 14:18 shows Paul thanking God he spoke in tongues more than anyone. When it feels excessive, like you’re overdoing it, don’t back off; ramp it up even more, because as Jude 1:20 puts it, you’re building yourselves up on your most holy faith, praying in the Holy Spirit, and it keeps you in God’s love. I would say keeping yourself in God’s love is important—crucial, even. Thus, pray in tongues. Tongues is charging your spirit, aligning with God so that His awesome power floods into your life. Ask boldly for interpretations to unlock deeper insights (1 Corinthians 14:13), and crave more manifestations—word of knowledge, gifts of healing, workings of miracles (1 Corinthians 12:7-11)—in God’s presence. Without this power meshed with your faith, you’re swinging a sword with no edge; but dive in, and watch the supernatural become your everyday reality, just as Jesus intended. Tongues isn’t weird—it’s Zues’ lightning bolt. You need it to win the battles.

Slam Satan’s Face in the Ground

Lastly, it’s time to get violent with Satan, that slimy defeated foe who’s been bluffing his way through your life like a poker player with a pair of twos. And yet, you have a royal flush in your hand, and you act like you have no backbone? Ephesians 2:6 spells it out: you’re already seated in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, not groveling below like some spiritual doormat. You already have rivers of living water flowing from your belly. It is already happening. The devil defied the saints of God. But Jesus with one stone, killed Satan and cut off his head. The reason Satan has been beating you up is because he lied to you. He has been whispering how small and weak you are, but now that you’ve awakened to this deception and are striving to be strong in the Lord, passivity is out—done.

By the explosive force of the Holy Spirit and unyielding faith, grab Satan by the back of the head, and start to slam his smug face into the pavement over and over until it’s a bloody pulp, and then keep going for good measure. If he whimpers and begs for mercy, don’t you dare let up—laugh in his face. Satan wants God’s elect to be in pain, and time-constrained with sickness and then an early death. But you’re holding all the cards: he’s already stripped and shamed at the cross (Colossians 2:15), you wield the raw, rivers-of-living-water power of the Spirit (John 7:38-39), Jesus’ name is etched on your tongue as a royal heir so that you can speak and command mountains to move. You are a royal priesthood backed by God’s unassailable authority (1 Peter 2:9), His gifts and callings are irrevocable (Romans 11:29). You always have this authority and firepower—it’s your birthright in the new creation—so unleash it relentlessly, turning harassment into humiliation for that cosmic loser, because not doing this is exactly why he’s lingered like a bad odor all these years.

Slam his face in the ground and praise God that He has given you the victory, power and authority in Jesus Christ.

May God bless you as you reclaim your inheritance. May the kingdom of darkness scream in terror at your approach. And may the Kingdom of God advance when you advance.

Samson Is Honey On God’s Lips

Samson, the muscle-bound judge who could bench-press city gates in faith but couldn’t find one believing friend in the entire land. You’ve heard the Sunday school version: Samson the strongman, brought low by a haircut and a honey trap. But let’s cut through the atheistic interpretation that too many preachers pile on. The real story isn’t a cautionary tale about lust or bad hair days; it’s a stark expose on faith versus unbelief, where even pagans grasp God’s power better than His own people. As Vincent Cheung aptly sums it up in The Shadow of Christ, “His parents misunderstood him, his wife betrayed him, his countrymen abandoned him, and his enemies hounded him.” That’s the setup, but the punchline? The enemies got the theology right, while the faithless in Israel fumbled it like a greased pig.

The story of Samson teaches that when power is needed, then only faith to work superman power will get the job done. It’s great to have an honourable marriage bed, but it will not rip city gates out of the ground. Holiness cannot compensate for miracle working faith, when miracles are needed. There is no substitute for this. It teaches that God stamps his sign of approval on people who have faith. This is why Samson is a hero of faith. God honors Samson in Hebrews 11 alongside Moses and David, not for flawless morals, but for faith that moved mountains—or in his case, temple pillars. God spotlights Samson’s faith with a smile on His faith. His name is gravel in mouth of the faithless, but Samson is honey on God’s lips.

Let’s rewind to Judges 13-16, where the drama unfolds. God handpicks Samson from the womb, announcing through an angel that this Nazirite kid will “begin the deliverance of Israel from the hands of the Philistines” (Judges 13:5, NIV). No small task—the Philistines are oppressing Israel, and oppression isn’t just bad luck; it’s a slap in the face to God’s promises. Remember, God swore to Abraham an “exceedingly great reward” (Genesis 15:1), blessing his descendants with land, prosperity, and victory over enemies. For Israel to cower under Philistine thumbs wasn’t mere hardship; it was disobedience, a failure to showcase God’s glory. They were meant to be a billboard for divine favor, not a doormat. Yet, when Samson steps up—ripping lions apart, torching fields with fox-tails, and slaying a thousand with a donkey’s jawbone—his own people treat him like a liability. The faithless do the same today. If you have faith, they treat you like a liability. This is the same game.

Take Judges 15:9-13. After Samson unleashes holy havoc on the Philistines, burning their crops in retaliation for their treachery, the men of Judah—three thousand strong—march up to bind him and hand him over. “Don’t you realize that the Philistines are rulers over us?” they whine. “What have you done to us?” (Judges 15:11, NIV). These are God’s chosen, the descendants of Abraham, moaning like defeated slaves. Gideon routed Midian with 300 faithful; Samson could’ve turned the tide with a fraction of that if Israel had believed. But no—they betray their own deliverer, tying him up like a sacrificial lamb. It’s not just abandonment; it’s a betrayal of God Himself, who publicly revealed Samson’s calling. Israel refuses to believe their own God can help them. Unbelief doesn’t just blind; it turns you into a traitor. Unbelief in God’s word makes you blind and stupid. Jesus had these type statements after both multiplication miracles, ‘Why is it that you still do not understand?’ Then we are told why the disciples were so stupid. “For they had not understood about the loaves, because their heart was hardened.” Being amazed at miracles isn’t a compliment—it’s a diagnosis of heart so hard with unbelief it makes granite stone envious.

Samson becomes a lone ranger not by choice, (as Vincent helped me understand better) but because faithlessness forces it on him. His family? They misunderstand him. (Judges 14:4). His wife? Betrays him for silver, weeping him into revealing his riddle (Judges 14:16-17). His countrymen? They abandon him in masse, preferring chains to change. Even Jeremiah had a scribe to jot down his prophecies, but Samson? Utterly alone, because no one else had faith in God—to join the fight.

And so, the legacy of the faithless is trash: they abandon God’s man, force him into isolation, then blame him for going solo. Worthless garbage, is putting it mildly without crossing into outright comedy. It’s like watching a team bench their MVP because they’re afraid of winning, and then blame MVP for not winning. This is all too common among the unbelieving. To have doubts in God’s promises for victory is to assign yourself to loss and misery.

Now, contrast this with the Philistines, those Dagon-worshipping heathens. They drag a blinded Samson to Gaza—the very city where he once uprooted the gates and hauled them off like oversized luggage (Judges 16:3)—to mock him in a grand religious bash. Thousands pack the temple, praising Dagon for handing over “our enemy… who laid waste our land and multiplied our slain” (Judges 16:23-24, NIV). Here’s the irony that stings: the Philistines recognize Samson as God’s weapon against them. They see his strength as divinely sourced, his victories as assaults from Israel’s God. Capturing him? That’s Dagon triumphing over Yahweh in their minds—a worldview clash where gods duke it out through human proxies. In modern terms, they grasp the theological stakes: this isn’t just personal beef; it’s cosmic warfare. “Our god has given our enemy into our hand, the ravager of our country” (Judges 16:24, ESV). They attribute Samson’s power to divine favor, even if misdirected to the wrong deity.

Meanwhile, Israel? Crickets on the theology front. Their own church-going peers—yes, Israel was the church then, God’s assembly—lack the faith to see Samson as God’s hammer. They’re so busy not believing, they miss the obvious. The Philistines, enemies though they are, have better theology here: they understand the implications of a God-empowered man wreaking havoc. It’s like the demons in the Gospels who recognize Jesus as “the Holy One of God” (Mark 1:24) while the Pharisees scoff. Unbelief dulls the senses worse Pharisee compassion.

This isn’t ancient history; it’s today’s mirror. Faithless Christians peddle unbelief like it’s gospel, sidelining miracles, healing, and power because “that’s not for us.” They mock bold faith as a liability, just as Israel handed over Samson as if he was the danger, and not their own unbelief. But our enemies? Atheists, skeptics, even cults—they often see the worldview clash clearer. They know if Christianity’s claims are true, their wisdom and power are a facade. We claim a God who parts seas and raises dead; they call our bluff when we settle for mediocrity.

The faithless have no redeeming qualities, because they make our enemies look enlightened. The are salt, with not even a hint of saltiness left. Worse than trash.  

I give you permission to leave the Philistine camp of unbelief. Join God in approving Samson as a faith giant. Believe big, fight hard, and watch reality obey. After all, if pagans can spot divine power, shouldn’t we? Let’s not be the ones hardening hearts while enemies applaud the show. Faith isn’t optional; it’s the hammer that crushes oppression.

Wield it, or get out of the way.

[See “The True Story of Samson, by Vincent Cheung, who has helped me understand this story better.]

Your Peace

In Luke 10:5-9 and Matthew 10:12-13, Jesus lays out a blueprint for His disciples that’s as straightforward as it is revolutionary to the faithless. “Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace be to this house.’ And if a man of peace is there, your peace will rest on him, but if not, it will return to you. Stay in that house, eating and drinking what they give you; for the laborer is worthy of his wages. Do not keep moving from house to house. And whatever city you enter and they receive you, eat what is set before you; and heal those in it who are sick, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you,’” (Luke 10:5-9 LSB). Matthew echoes this: “As you enter the home, give it your greeting. If the home is deserving, let your peace rest on it; if it is not, let your peace return to you,” (Matthew 10:12-13 NIV).

Jesus operated as a man born under the law, anointed with the Spirit’s power for ministry—not relying on His divine nature, but showing us how a Spirit-empowered human crushes Satan’s works. He didn’t do miracles in “Jesus power” as God incarnate flexing; no, He modeled what a man filled with the Spirit could achieve. And here’s the kicker: that same Spirit, that same authority, He handed off to His followers. On the relative level—the human level where we live, fight, and pray—it’s “your peace,” not God’s. Once bestowed, it’s ours to wield, to give or withdraw as we see fit. Luke ties it to faith with that simple “first say”—a command spoken in confidence, expecting results because God’s sovereign mind integrates His power so seamlessly into our reality that when we declare it, heaven backs us up.

Think about it deductively. Premise one: God is sovereign, decreeing all things, including the authority He delegates to His elect (Matthew 28:18-20; Acts 1:8). Premise two: Jesus, post-resurrection, pours out this authority on believers through the Spirit, commanding us to heal the sick and advance His kingdom (Luke 10:9; Mark 16:17-18). Conclusion: If you’re born from above, this power isn’t locked in heaven waiting for a divine mood swing—it’s yours now, on the human level, to command peace over homes, sickness, and even demonic strongholds. Deny that, and you’re not just short on faith; you’re slapping the Spirit who anoints us for battle.

“On the human level, Jesus, the most God-centered man ever, said about both healing and forgiveness, ‘Your faith saved you.’ In Acts 10:38, Peter says all the sick people Jesus healed were ‘victimized’ or oppressed ‘by the devil.’ So, the Bible has no issue saying sickness isn’t from God; it is from Satan or the curse” (ST. p. 658). As God says in Isaiah 54, If someone attacks you, I did not send them. Or in today’s terms, if sickness attacks you, I did not send it. Jesus didn’t point to ultimate metaphysics every time He healed—He almost always pointed to the person’s faith. Why? Because that’s how God relates to us: through covenants, promises, and His good nature. Satan offered Jesus authority over kingdoms (Luke 4:5-6), but Jesus reclaimed it all at the cross, triumphing over principalities (Colossians 2:15). Now, seated at the right hand of Power, He says, “All authority has been given to Me” (Matthew 28:18 LSB), and then commissions us to use it.

But what about us today? If we don’t want to blaspheme the Spirit, our response must be that we have more than the disciples pre-Pentecost. They operated under Jesus’ direct commission, but post-resurrection, the fullness of the Spirit is poured out for power (Acts 2:33). It’s impossible to claim we have less without insulting the Spirit’s outpouring. Unlike the faithless who center on man—”Oh, that was for apostles only”—it was never about them; it was about God anointing humans to smash Satan’s works. Peter preached the baptism of power at Pentecost, and in Acts 3, he declared, “What I have, I give” (Acts 3:6 LSB)—the Name of Jesus, which we all wield. Jesus hammered it in John 14-16: ask in My name, and it’ll be done. This power mirrors binding and loosing (Matthew 18:18)—authority for any who confess Jesus as the Son of God.

Vincent Cheung nails it: “Faith trumps everything. Faith is immune to even correct theological arguments. This is not because faith could contradict sound theology, but because faith can override it” (Faith Override, Sermonettes Vol. 9, 2016, p. 14). The disciples’ peace wasn’t some ethereal vibe; it was Spirit-backed authority to bless or withhold, healing the sick as proof the kingdom’s near. Today, we don’t dust off sandals—we command peace over chaos, sickness, and oppression. If it sticks, great; if not, it returns to us, undiminished. Most Christians treat this like a loaded gun they won’t fire, begging God to pull the trigger while Satan laughs. Newsflash—He gave you the authority; use it, or you’re playing church while the kingdom stalls.

Apply this systematically. First, epistemology: Start with Scripture as God’s truth that is revealed and self-authenticating. God defines peace not as absence of trouble but victory over it—”I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33 LSB). Jesus says the peace He has, He has given to us. In God’s sovereign mind there as a substitute in Jesus. He bore the chastisement that has brought us peace. In God’s mind we already have this peace. It is given freely by grace and received by faith. Our Faith assents to this—declare peace over your home, and watch demons flee or blessings flow. Metaphysics: On the ultimate level, God decrees all; relatively, our words release it. The power of the Spirit’s peace was with the disciples; once God gave it to them, then on the human level, it is their peace, not God’s, just as my arm and my legs are mine, not God’s.

Anthropology: We’re remade as overcomers. “By faith we understand that the entire universe was formed at God’s command” (Hebrews 11:3 NIV), so speak to storms, sickness—reality obeys. Ethics: Command it. “Heal those in it who are sick” (Luke 10:9)—not optional. Reject this, and you’re siding with faith-fumblers, peddling unbelief like those who taught bad doctrine to my twin brother Joshua. They’ll be caught trying to wash blood off their hands when the Big Guy’s gavel drops.

When many seem to be fighting for all their lives to get peace, to find peace, to drive out the depression and stress and replace it with peace, Jesus offers an entirely different worldview. He expects us to have His peace. If we can give away our peace like a divine magic spell, then Jesus is presupposing we have this peace already. Jesus says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled, because I have overcome the world.” God’s peace is beyond all that we can measure. It is not merely a psychological crutch in the mind. It is peace with God. It is God’s sovereign decision to make things all around you to treat you well, so that even your enemies are at peace with you. It is blessing that surrounds you like a divine magical ward of luck. It is based on the thoughts of God’s good pleasure toward you. And God’s thoughts are reality; they create reality itself.

This peace isn’t some fragile inner calm that crumbles under the weight of life’s chaos; it’s the unshakeable reality of God’s victory invading our everyday existence, turning potential disasters into divine footnotes of rest. The idea of having peace with God is the ability and position to approach God, in His throne room of grace, to ask and then to receive the help we are asking for. Jesus Himself models this when He declares, “Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:27, as quoted on p. 141). Think about it— if God’s presence shows up, as it did in Acts, it’s not content to whisper sweet nothings; it erupts in miracles, healings, and prophecies that bulldoze sickness and troubles. After destroying the troubles we can rest from them. This is God’s peace and it affects the whole life of the man who belongs to God. “Peace is not a chemical feeling in the brain. It is when you can rest from troubles.” Frankly, if your version of peace leaves you grinding through endless stress without supernatural breakthroughs, you’re settling for a counterfeit—Satan’s cheap knockoff, not the real deal that Jesus paid for with His blood. God’s thoughts toward us aren’t wishful thinking; they’re the blueprint of reality, decreeing enemies silenced and blessings overtaking us, as Isaiah 54 promises no weapon formed against us will prosper.

Yet, this peace demands we align our minds with God’s sovereign script, not man’s empirical rewrites. God’s peace flows from His unchanging nature—He doesn’t dabble in shadows or half-measures, as No ‘shadow’ of turning, for a shadow would contradict light. It’s the peace that Jesus bore our chastisement to secure: “The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5). God’s presence is a contradiction to suffering. For a child of God, suffering’s greatest enemy and contradiction is God’s presence. If you’re still battling for peace like it’s an uphill slog, perhaps it’s time to stop playing defense and start commanding the mountains to move—because Jesus didn’t overcome the world so we could tiptoe around it. He overcame it, so that we have peace and rest. He overcame the world so that we also overcome, and storm the gates of Hell and expand His kingdom. God creates a reality where peace isn’t pursued; it’s possessed, permeating every corner until even your foes wave the white flag.

Your peace isn’t God’s passive pat on the back—it’s delegated rest that packs more power than a nuclear bomb. Post-Pentecost, we’ve got the upgrade: baptism for power, faith to command. Don’t blaspheme the Spirit by claiming less; grab God’s peace and declare it, and watch the kingdom expand. If critics call this extreme, point them to Jesus—the original faith zealot. But for those with faith? Peace rests, kingdoms fall, and glory goes to the One who armed us for victory.

The Vileness Of Cross-Centered Theology

Oshea Davis

You know, it’s almost comical how some folks wear “cross-centered” like a badge of spiritual humility, as if staring endlessly at Calvary’s bloodied hill makes them the real deal—authentic, raw, untouched by the glitz of glory. But flip through the New Testament, and you’ll see the apostles weren’t playing that game. No, they were throne-centered to the core, laser-focused on Jesus exalted, enthroned at the Father’s right hand, wielding authority that crushes enemies and empowers His people. And if there’s one Old Testament verse that screams this truth louder than any other, it’s Psalm 110:1: “The Lord says to my Lord: ‘Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet.'” This isn’t some obscure poetic flourish—it’s the heavyweight champion of OT quotes in the NT, referenced or alluded to over two dozen times. That’s more than any other verse from the Hebrew Scriptures, a fact that ought to make us pause and ask why the inspired writers couldn’t get enough of it.

Consider the sheer volume: Jesus Himself quotes it in Matthew 22:44, Mark 12:36, and Luke 20:42-43 to stump the Pharisees on the Messiah’s identity. Peter blasts it out in his Pentecost sermon (Acts 2:34-35), tying Jesus’ resurrection directly to this enthronement, and the present reality of the baptism of the Spirit for power. Paul echoes it in 1 Corinthians 15:25 and Ephesians 1:20, emphasizing Christ’s dominion over all powers. And Hebrews? That book’s practically a love letter to Psalm 110, quoting verse 1 in 1:13 and weaving its themes throughout chapters 1, 5, 7, 8, and 10 to hammer home Jesus as the eternal Priest-King. Allusions pop up everywhere else—Romans 8:34, Colossians 3:1, Hebrews 12:2—painting a picture not of a perpetually suffering Savior but of a victorious Lord reigning now, subduing foes under His feet. If the NT writers were scripting a highlight reel, they’d skip the slow-motion cross scenes and cut straight to the throne room coronation. Why? Because that’s where the action is—the present reality that defines everything from salvation to spiritual warfare.

The most quoted verse is not Isaiah 53, concerning of the suffering servant. No. The most quoted passage is about the enthroned Jesus, ruling, empowering the saints with the Spirit’s baptism and enemies being subdued under Him. This was the greatest focus of the NT writers, and it will also be ours.

This throne obsession flips the script on what it means to be gospel-centered. Too many today think humility demands a perpetual gaze at the cross, as if fixating on our sins and Jesus’ suffering keeps us grounded, preventing some imagined drift into arrogance. But that’s a subtle trap, isn’t it? It turns the gospel into a somber memorial service rather than a triumphant declaration of regime change. The cross was the battle won, the atonement secured, but the throne is the victory applied—the ongoing rule where Jesus pours out the Spirit, answers prayers, and expands His kingdom through us.

To be truly Christ-centered is to lock eyes on the exalted Christ, the one Hebrews 1:3 describes as “sustaining all things by his powerful word” after purifying us from sins. Sure, we remember the cross—Jesus commanded it in the Lord’s Supper—but that very command assumes we’re not stuck there. Why tell someone to “remember” something if they’re already obsessing over it? No, the presupposition is that our default posture is throne-focused, living in the reality of His reign, occasionally glancing back to marvel at the love that got us here. It’s like a king reminding his heirs of the war that won the crown; they don’t relive the battlefield daily—they rule from the palace, grateful, but forward-focused.

Take Peter’s Pentecost powerhouse in Acts 2. He doesn’t linger on the crucifixion details, though they’re fresh wounds. Instead, he rockets to the throne: “God has raised this Jesus to life, and we are all witnesses of it. Exalted to the right hand of God, he has received from the Father the promised Holy Spirit and has poured out what you now see and hear” (Acts 2:32-33). Boom—resurrection leads straight to enthronement, which unleashes the Spirit’s power. No wonder the crowd’s cut to the heart; they’re not just hearing about forgiveness but about a King who’s actively dismantling Satan’s hold, starting with tongues of fire and miracles galore. If Peter were cross-centered in the modern sense, he’d have camped out on guilt and repentance alone. But he’s throne-centered, so the application is power—baptism in the Spirit for all whom the Lord calls, no expiration date.

This echoes what I’ve written before about the disciplined son in the Father’s house: even in correction, we’re not exiled beggars but insiders sitting inside the Father’s palace, waiting in our room while the Father prepares greater things. Discipline stings, but the throne room door stays open, grace flowing unhindered.

Hebrews takes this even further, using Psalm 110 to redefine our entire approach to God. In chapter 1, it quotes verse 1 to prove Jesus’ superiority over angels: “To which of the angels did God ever say, ‘Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet’?” (Hebrews 1:13). The point? Jesus isn’t just a messenger—He’s the enthroned Son, heir of all things. By chapter 10, this throne reality empowers us to “draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings” (10:22), holding unswervingly to hope because He’s faithful. No cowering in false humility; we’re commanded to storm the throne boldly for mercy and help (4:16).

Frankly, this throne-centered vibe exposes the poverty of cross-centered theology. It’s like celebrating a wedding by fixating on the proposal—sweet, but missing the marriage feast. Jesus’ command to remember His body and blood during communion presupposes we’re feasting in the kingdom now, not starving in perpetual Lent. If we’re already cross-fixated, why the reminder? No, it’s because our eyes are meant for the horizon, the exalted King who intercedes for us (Romans 8:34), making our prayers as potent as His. Paul in Ephesians 1:19-23 prays we’d grasp the “incomparably great power for us who believe”—the same power that raised Christ to the throne, putting everything under His feet for the church’s benefit. That’s not humble pie; that’s dominion delegated, enemies footstooled.

Take that tired trope: “For every look at your sin, take ten looks at the cross.” Sounds pious, right? But it’s a faith-killer in disguise, pumping unbelief like steroids. Sure, recall the atonement—it’s foundational—but fixating there keeps you sin-conscious, not righteousness-aware. Hebrews 10:2 slams perpetual guilt: once purged, no more sin-consciousness. Instead, 1 John 3:2-3 ties purification to throne-vision: “We know that when He appears, we shall be like Him… Everyone who has this hope in Him purifies himself, just as He is pure.” See yourself already enthroned with Christ (Ephesians 2:6), not perpetually crucified. That’s what scrubs the soul clean—not rubbernecking at a roman torture rack. Cross-gazers barely believe they’re forgiven, let alone righteous. They see a bloody mess, not a crowned King. But throne-gazers? They behold the Victor at the Father’s right hand, mirroring His purity by faith. No wonder they strut boldly for help (Hebrews 4:16)—they know their spot’s secure.

Romans 4 seals it: justification isn’t just cross-won; it’s resurrection-sealed. “He was delivered over to death for our sins and was raised to life for our justification” (Romans 4:25). The cross paid the debt, but the throne declares us as the very righteousness of God. Without resurrection to the right hand, no vindication of righteousness—no proof the atonement stuck. Abraham’s faith credited righteousness pre-cross (Romans 4:3), but Jesus’ rising to the throne, enthrones it for us. Cross-only folks limp with half a gospel, doubting they truly are the very righteousness of God. Their constant reminder of the sins makes it hard to believe themselves as God’s righteousness. They see nails, not the empty tomb’s triumph. But resurrection-gazers? They know: if Christ reigns, we’re co-heirs—righteous, pure, empowered, dominated by grace and unstoppable. Unbelief keeps the faithless cross-bound; but faith catapults Christians throne-ward, purified as He is.

The gospel is total salvation, making us clean, righteous, co-heirs with Christ, empowered to judge the world and angels. All things are ours because Jesus defines reality from the throne. To downplay this is to peddle unbelief, staining hands with the blood of those who could’ve thrived but settled for scraps. But for us? We’re sons in the Father’s house, rooms prepared. Even in besetting struggles, we draw from Christ’s continuing growth in us, eyes fixed on the Champion who authors faith from His seat of power. Our eyes are not fixed on Jesus on the cross, but as Hebrews says, on the Jesus the author of or faith, who is sitting on the throne. Anything less? Well, that’s just spiritual slumming when you’ve got palace keys.

So, if Psalm 110:1 reigns supreme in NT citations, it’s because the apostles got it: the gospel’s climax isn’t the empty tomb—it’s the occupied throne. Cross-centered? That’s the doorway for newbies to enter. Throne-centered? That’s full armor, advancing the kingdom with miracles, healings, and unshakeable faith. Remember the atonement, yes—but live with your eye locked on the present ruling Jesus, where He lives, and pours out power, and answered prayers. To focus on a cross is to focus where Jesus is not. To focus on the throne, is to meet the very eyes of Jesus looking back at you. Maybe that’s why the faithless remain cross-focus, because they can’t bear the living Jesus locking eyes with them, less their unbelief gets exposed. But for us who are the righteousness of God, we love to lock eyes with Jesus.  And when you see His eyes turn to lock back on you, you will hear Him say, “Ask anything in my name and you will have it.”

Welcome to the gospel. The real one. Not the one with a cross as the symbol.
But the one with a crown

The Gospel Is Jesus Sitting on a Throne

Listen, if you’re still camping out at the cross like it’s the whole story, you’ve missed the main point—and Hebrews straight-up calls you out on it. The cross was the doorway. The resurrection, the hallway. But the throne room? That’s the destination, the present-tense reality, the place where the gospel actually lives and breathes and swings a sledgehammer at every sickness dumb enough to stick around. The writer of Hebrews doesn’t waste time: “Now this is the main point of the things we are saying: We have such a High Priest, who is seated at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens” (Heb. 8:1). Main point. Not side note. Not optional extra credit. The main point.

Most Christians treat the gospel like a get-out-of-hell-free card and stop there. Forgiveness? Wonderful. However, the gospel is Jesus—resurrected, ascended, crowned, and actively reigning—pouring out the Spirit on everyone who dares to believe that He’s not still bleeding on a Roman pole. Paul told Timothy the gospel he preached was “Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, descended from David” (2 Tim. 2:8). Why David? Because David means King. The resurrection wasn’t just Jesus getting a pulse back; it was God installing His King on Zion’s hill while the nations rage in vain (Ps. 2).  That’s the gospel Paul risked his neck for. Anything less is a truncated, neutered, half-gospel that leaves believers limping around like spiritual invalids.

Think about Pentecost. The disciples had seen the resurrected Jesus—walked with Him, touched Him, ate fish with Him. And Jesus still said, “Not yet. Stay in the city until you’re clothed with power from on high” (Luke 24:49). Why? Because seeing the out-of-the-grave Jesus wasn’t enough. They needed the enthroned Jesus to blast the Spirit through them like a divine firehose. Exalted to the right hand of God. Acts 2:33, “Exalted to the right hand of God, he has received from the Father the promised Holy Spirit and has poured out what you now see and hear.” Peter didn’t preach “Jesus died for you—now go be nice.” He preached “God has made this Jesus, whom you crucified, both Lord and Christ—and He’s currently sitting on the throne pouring out everything you just saw.” Tongues, prophecy, miracles—that’s the enthroned Jesus flexing. If your gospel doesn’t include that, you’re preaching a dead man’s biography instead of a living King’s decree.

We approach a throne, not a torture device. Hebrews 4:16 doesn’t say “come crawling to the cross.” It says come boldly to the throne of grace. Why? Because there’s a Man on it—our Man—who already settled the sin issue and now rules everything for the church (Eph. 1:22). The cross is finished. The grave is empty. The throne is occupied. And—get this—we’re seated there with Him right now (Eph. 2:6). Not “will be someday.” Are seated. Present tense. God has already positioned you above every sickness, demon, and circumstance because you’re in the Son and the Son is on the throne. That’s not hoping to be. You are. The only question is whether you’ll start acting like it or keep groveling like a spiritual orphan.

Sickness Is Satan’s Glory, Not God’s. Jesus saw sickness as Satan’s direct attack on Him, His Father, and His people. So, He smashed it wherever He found it. The only time He didn’t stomp out sickness—which Satan was causing—was when unbelief blocked Him. Think about that: unbelief stopped Jesus, but Satan couldn’t.

If Jesus is currently seated at the right hand of Power—session complete, enemies becoming His footstool (Heb. 10:12-13)—then why are we letting Satan cockblock the saints from the benefits of the atonement? Because too many Christians are still mentally kneeling at an empty cross begging for crumbs when they ought to be seated on a throne commanding mountains to move. The atonement purchased healing; the ascension enforces it. Isaiah 53:4-5 isn’t a suggestion—it’s a paid-in-full receipt. Jesus bore (nasa) our sicknesses the same way He bore our sins. Same word. Same substitution. Same finality. If you’re still sick, it’s not because the bill hasn’t been paid; it’s because you’re refusing to cash the check from the throne room.

People love to quote “by His stripes we are healed” and then act like it’s a nice sentiment instead of a legal reality enforced by the enthroned King. That’s like having a signed presidential pardon in your pocket and still sitting in prison because you “feel guilty.” Feel guilty all you want—Jesus is not on the cross; He is sitting in absolute victory, and He’s made you bone of His bone and flesh of His flesh. Your feelings don’t change the throne’s power to ensure His atonement.

The same goes for every promise. Prosperity? Yes—because the King owns everything, H has already bore our poverty and He has made us co-heirs with Him as a present living reality. Power? Yes—because the One who spoke galaxies into existence now lives in you and has authorized you to use His name like it’s your own (because legally, it is). Miracles? Greater works than Jesus did in His earthly ministry, because now He’s not limited to one body in one location—He’s multiplied Himself in millions of believers worldwide doing greater miracles than Him, all seated with Him far above every power (John 14:12, Eph. 1:21).

Those who deny this stuff aren’t just mistaken—they’re insulting the King on His coronation day. The King has spoken: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me—therefore go.” Not “go and be barely saved.” Go and disciple nations. Go and heal the sick. Go and cast out demons. Go and raise the dead. Go and speak to mountains until they jump into the sea. This is how the present Jesus rules from this throne (Mark 11:23-24). We believe the King.

The gospel is not Jesus hanging bloody and defeated—it’s Jesus crowned and commanding. It’s not “maybe He’ll help if He’s in a good mood.” It’s “He always helps because He’s already won and He His love for His bride is not measurable. The cross reconciled us; the throne empowers us. The cross saved us from sin; the throne saves us into dominion. If you’re still living like the story ended at Golgotha, you’re reading the Bible with the last chapters ripped out.

All things are yours. Not some things on Sundays if the worship team is on point. All things. Jesus is not pacing heaven worried about your problem—He’s laughing at His enemies (Ps. 2:4) while handing you the keys to the kingdom. Your job is to stop acting like a slave and start acting like royalty.

Stop praying beggar prayers from the foot-of-the-cross theology. Start issuing throne-room decrees from ascended-Christ reality. Speak to cancer, poverty, depression, demons—whatever—and watch reality rearrange itself around the word of the King coming out of your mouth. Not because you have power. Because He has all power and has made you His mouth, His hands, His feet on the earth.

The gospel is Jesus sitting on a throne—and you sitting there with Him, right now, laughing at the devil’s pathetic attempts to cockblock you out of your inheritance. The enthroned Christ isn’t here to comfort you in your unbelief. He’s here to push you into the throne room until you finally realize you’ve been royalty all along.

Welcome to the gospel. The real one. Not the one with a cross as the symbol. But the one with a crown

How to Authenticate You are a Moron

Let’s get straight to the heart of the matter, because dancing around defective doctrine only gives it more room to spread like a theological weed. The idea that miracles were merely signs to authenticate Jesus’ message—and that they’ve since packed up and left the building once the canon closed—is not just misguided; it’s intellectually bankrupt, biblically incoherent, and frankly, a bit embarrassing for anyone claiming to handle Scripture with care. If the gospel message is brimming with promises of physical healing, deliverance from oppression, and the unleashing of resurrected power through faith, then how on earth does it make sense to say the signs pointing to that message deliver more substance than the message itself? It’s like advertising a feast with mouthwatering samples, only to serve up empty plates at the main event. The authentication would end up wielding more power than the finished atonement or even Jesus Himself, seated in glory at the Father’s right hand. That’s not divine logic; that’s nonsense on stilts, the kind that makes you wonder if some theologians skipped the class on basic reasoning.

Consider this: the miracles Jesus performed weren’t roadside billboards meant to fade into irrelevance once the destination was reached. They were previews of the kingdom’s reality, embodying the very essence of the atonement’s victory over sin, sickness, and Satan. Isaiah 53:4-5 doesn’t mince words—Jesus bore our infirmities and carried our diseases, a truth Matthew 8:17 applies directly to physical healing during Jesus’ ministry. Peter echoes it in 1 Peter 2:24, linking those stripes to our wholeness. If these acts were just to confirm the message, but the completed work of the cross somehow provides less healing—or hitches it to some mysterious “will of God” lottery even when faith is locked in—then the signs overshadow the substance. The pointer becomes mightier than the pointed-to, the herald greater than the king. In “Sickness Is Satan’s Glory, Not God’s,” I explain: “In the substitutionary atonement, Jesus took 39 stripes in exchange for our healing. It is already done. In the Father’s mind, He decided our sicknesses were taken off us and put on Jesus as those 39 stripes. Jesus carried our sickness in our place.” If the authenticating miracles promised healing but the finished product withholds it, we’re left with a gospel that’s all sizzle and no steak—a cruel joke that dishonors the risen Christ’s authority.

And if that reversal wasn’t absurd enough, the cessationist claim commits a glaring logical fallacy, one that’s as transparent as it is sloppy. Arguing that miracles were only for authenticating the apostolic message and thus ceased once the Bible was complete is like saying, “All dinosaurs are animals. All dinosaurs have ceased to exist. Therefore, all animals have ceased to exist.” It’s the classic error of composition and division, assuming that because some miracles served a confirmatory role (like in Acts 2:22, where Peter notes Jesus was “attested to you by God with miracles, wonders, and signs”), all miracles must be pigeonholed into that category and then vanish wholesale. But Scripture never draws such a narrow boundary. Miracles aren’t a monolithic bloc; they’re multifaceted expressions of God’s power, often untethered from authentication. In John 14:12, Jesus promises that believers will do His works and greater ones simply because they believe—not as signs for a message, but as the fruit of faith in Him. This has nothing to do with canon closure or apostolic credentials; it’s about ongoing discipleship. In “Ultimate Stupid Cessationist Arguments #1m” it says “For sake of argument, let us say sign gifts have ceased. So what? What logical relevance does that have to do with healing and miracles on demand of faith. It has no connection whatsoever. Just because a pizza does not have olives, does not mean it stops being a pizza.”

This fallacy isn’t just academic nitpicking—it’s a direct assault on the gospel’s fullness. Abraham’s blessing, as Paul unpacks in Galatians 3, shatters the notion that miracles were mere temporary props. The promise to Abraham wasn’t a fleeting endorsement; it was an eternal covenant of abundant increase, including supernatural favor, health, and victory over curses. Jesus became the curse for us (Galatians 3:13) precisely to unlock this blessing for all who believe, complete with the Spirit’s power for miracles (Galatians 3:5,14). It’s not about confirming a message but about God being God—faithful, unchanging, and extravagantly generous. In Luke 13:16, Jesus declares healing “necessary” for the bent-over woman because she was Abraham’s daughter, not because it authenticated anything. Satan bound her, but the covenant demanded her freedom. Similarly, to the Syrophoenician woman in Matthew 15:28, healing is “children’s bread”—daily sustenance for covenant heirs, not a one-off sign. As I emphasize in Systematic Theology 2025 under “The Structure or Thesis for this Systematic Theology Book,” the gospel’s logic flows from God’s self-authenticating truth: “If God has revealed a self-authenticating first principle with substantial truth for all of life… then all things are possible for the one who believes.” Miracles aren’t add-ons; they’re the natural outworking of God’s fidelity to His word.

To peddle cessationism as if miracles were disposable training wheels is to limit the Holy One of Israel, much like the Israelites did in the wilderness, confessing defeat before giants instead of claiming promised land. It’s faith-fumbling at its finest, staining hands with the blood of unbelief: “For those who taught you bad doctrine and didn’t repent or back off, may their hands stay stained with your blood—along with all who peddle unbelief—on judgment day, before the Son who sits at the right hand of Power.” If God swore by Himself to bless Abraham’s seed (Hebrews 6:13-18), and that blessing includes the Spirit’s miraculous empowerment, who are we to declare it expired? Paul curses any gospel that deviates from this (Galatians 1:8-9), and rightly so. Miracles persist because God persists—being Himself, faithful to His oath. Anything less turns the Almighty into a cosmic bait-and-switch artist, promising power but delivering powerlessness. That’s not the God I serve; that’s a caricature born of defective theology.

In wrapping this up, remember that the New Covenant amplifies, not diminishes, the old promises. We’re not limping along in a miracle drought; we’re seated with Christ in heavenly places (Ephesians 2:6), wielding His name like a sledgehammer against every stronghold. God wants to give more than you want to receive. When we are sick, we need to have a relentless focus on our healing, on the word of God about healing day and night… Sickness is from the devil, it is a curse of the law and Jesus started to demolish it in His ministry and has commanded all His disciples to continue this battle. Cessationism doesn’t just err; it robs saints of their inheritance, sidelining them with sickness Satan has no right to inflict. Embrace Abraham’s gospel in full, and watch mountains move at faith’s command. After all, if the signs were that potent, imagine what the substance unleashes.

Claim Your Daily Bread

The notion that Jesus’ miracles—or those of the apostles—were merely signposts to authenticate the gospel message is a theological sleight of hand that crumbles under scrutiny. It’s a convenient excuse for those who prefer a powerless Christianity, but it doesn’t hold water when you pour in the full context of Scripture. If miracles were only for validation, why did Jesus tie them so inextricably to the core of the good news? Think about it: the gospel proclaims that “by His stripes we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5, as Peter echoes in 1 Peter 2:24) and that Jesus “took away our sicknesses” (Matthew 8:17, quoting Isaiah 53:4). Jesus didn’t perform healings as some divine footnote; He used them to embody and confirm the very essence of salvation—a total rescue from sin’s curse, including disease and demonic oppression. To suggest that these miracles evaporate once the message is “authenticated” is laughable. It’s like Jesus waving a banner of healing to draw folks in, only to yank it away post-conversion, saying, “Just kidding—now suffer for My glory.” That’s not the God of the Bible; that’s a bait-and-switch straight from devil dogmatic playbook.

Jesus’ ministry was a demolition derby against sickness and devils, not a one-time spectacle. He healed multitudes, cast out demons, and raised the dead as previews of the kingdom’s power breaking in. The apostles continued the rampage, with signs and wonders marking their steps (Acts 5:12-16, 19:11-12). If these were just credentials, why command believers to do the same—and greater (John 14:12)? Why include healing in the Great Commission (Mark 16:17-18)? The gospel isn’t a historical artifact; it’s living power for today. It is “living power” as Jesus Christ is living power sitting at the right hand of Power, pouring out the power of the Spirit. Now Denying ongoing miracles isn’t humble theology; it’s unbelief masquerading as piety, limiting the Holy One of Israel just like the wilderness wanderers did, “oh no, we are to small and they are too big.” If healing was only for authentication, the gospel would be half-baked, promising deliverance from sickness but delivering excuses. No, the miracles confirm a gospel that includes healing as a core benefit, not an optional add-on.

Moving beyond that tired error, we hit the heart of the matter: the doctrine of Abraham’s blessing, sealed by Jesus’ blood. This isn’t some peripheral perk; it’s the gospel Paul defends with fire in Galatians. In Galatians 3, Paul hammers home that the promise to Abraham—”all nations will be blessed through him” (Genesis 12:3)—is fulfilled in Christ. Jesus became the curse for us, redeeming us from the law’s penalties (Galatians 3:13-14), so that “the blessing given to Abraham” comes to the Gentiles through faith. What is that blessing? Abundant increase in all things—land, descendants, victory over enemies, and yes, supernatural provision, including health and miracles. Paul doesn’t leave it vague; he ties it directly to the Spirit: “so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit” (Galatians 3:14). And what does the Spirit bring? Miracles, healings, prophecies—the works of power that marked Abraham’s covenant life.

But here’s the question that exposes the wafflers: how much miracles and healing does Abraham’s gospel guarantee? Is it a sprinkle here and there, a “maybe if it’s God’s will” lottery ticket, even when faith is firing on all cylinders? Absolutely not. Scripture paints a picture of abundance, not scarcity. Consider Jesus’ encounter with the Canaanite woman in Matthew 15:21-28. She’s begging for her daughter’s deliverance from a demon—essentially a healing from torment. Jesus initially deflects, saying, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” Bread? Not some fancy dessert for special occasions, but bread—the staple, the daily necessity. Healing, in Jesus’ words, is the children’s bread, meant for Abraham’s offspring. The woman persists in faith, and Jesus commends her: “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” Her daughter is healed instantly. No hesitation, no “let’s see if it’s My will today.” Rather, Jesus does an opposite faith confession: he doesn’t confess by saying, “God’s will be done,” No, He confesses, “Woman your will be done.”

Jesus doubles down in Luke 13:10-17 with the woman bent over for eighteen years. He calls her forward on the Sabbath, lays hands on her, and declares, “Woman, you are set free from your infirmity.” When the synagogue leader gripes about the timing, Jesus retorts: “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?” Notice: it’s “necessary” (as some translations render the implication) for her to be healed because she’s Abraham’s daughter. Not optional, not probabilistic—necessary. Sickness is Satan’s chain, not God’s tool. Jesus didn’t quiz her on repentance or catalog her sins; He saw her Abraham covenant status and that alone made it necessary to heal her. This is the same Jesus who healed all who came to Him (Matthew 8:16, 12:15; Luke 6:19), rejecting none except where unbelief blocked the flow (Mark 6:5-6). Despite the crowds’ many flaws—sins unconfessed, hearts divided—faith was the key, and healing flowed like manna in the desert.

This isn’t hyperbole; it’s the pattern. Jesus healed relentlessly, embodying the Father’s heart for wholeness. In the gospel of Abraham, now ours through Jesus’ curse-bearing death, miracles aren’t rare treats but daily sustenance. Paul makes it plain in Galatians 3:5: “He who supplies the Spirit to you and works miracles among you—does He do it by works of the law, or by hearing with faith?” Miracles are the norm for faith-filled heirs, as average as breakfast. This means in context of the New Testament Galatians church in Galatians 3, the amount of the Spirit’s power and miracles Paul was referring to, was substantial, and it was based on Abraham’s gospel. This also destroys any attempt to say sign miracles have ceased therefore regular healings and miracles have ceased. Such as stance is blasphemy and deserves immediate curses, and excommunication. The healings and miracles we have been reviewing are about God fulling His old promise to Abraham, not to prove or authenticate something. Those are two different categories, and to be so stupid to confuse the two is a sign of God’s reprobation on you. Logically it is the same as saying, “Dinosaurs are animals. Dinosaurs are ceased. Therefore, animals have ceased.”

To say healing is a cosmic lotto, hit-or-miss even with mountain-moving faith—is to peddle a different gospel. Paul doesn’t mince words: “If anybody is preaching to you a gospel other than what you accepted, let them be under God’s curse!” (Galatians 1:9). Those who dilute the promise, chalking up unanswered prayers to “God’s mysterious will” rather than our need for undiluted faith, deserve the same rejection. They’re not protecting sovereignty; they’re peddling unbelief, complicit in letting Satan sideline saints with sickness.

This isn’t about earning miracles through perfect behavior. Abraham’s blessing is by faith, not merit, just as justification is. Jesus didn’t demand spotless lives from those He healed; He demanded faith in His willingness and power. In our New Covenant, superior to the old (Hebrews 8:6), the Spirit empowers us for even greater works. Sickness isn’t God’s autograph on our lives; it’s the enemy’s graffiti, defacing Jesus’ body, His temple. As co-heirs with Christ (Romans 8:17), we inherit the world—all things are ours (1 Corinthians 3:21-23). That includes health, provision, and victory over every curse. If you’re Abraham’s child by faith (Galatians 3:7), claim your bread daily. Meditate on the promises relentlessly, confess them boldly. Unbelief might whisper “not today,” but faith shouts back with Jesus: “Your faith has healed you—go in peace” (Luke 8:48).

In the end, this gospel of abundant miracles isn’t optional fluff; it’s the power of God for salvation in full (Romans 1:16). Reject the naysayers who shrink it to fit their experience rather than expanding their faith to match God’s Word. Curse that different gospel, as Paul commands, and embrace the one secured by Jesus’ blood—one where healing flows as freely as grace itself. After all, if God gave us His Son, won’t He freely give us all things (Romans 8:32)? That’s not a question; it’s a promise. Grab your loaf and eat up.

The Gospel is God Showing Off, Not Man

The stark contrast between the gospel’s essence and the mindset of the faithless religious crowd couldn’t be clearer, like night refusing to mingle with day. In the Lord’s Supper, we witness God’s extravagant generosity on full display—He pours out righteousness, healing, wealth, and peace without demanding a dime from us, as if to say, “Watch Me lavish My riches on you, because that’s who I am.” Jesus doesn’t hand us a bill for His broken body or spilled blood; instead, He declares, “This is for you,” echoing the one-way flow from Isaiah 53 where He bears our griefs and carries our pains, swapping our curses for His blessings. The faithless, however, flip this divine script upside down, strutting like peacocks in their self-imposed sufferings, boasting about what they “give” to God as if their meager, self-inflicted sufferings, sicknesses and sacrifices could impress the Almighty. They twist communion into a showcase of their piety—enduring sickness as “God’s will” or poverty as proof of devotion—forgetting that such posturing mocks the cross, where God did all the giving so we could freely receive.

This inversion isn’t just a minor theological hiccup; it’s a worldview war, pitting God’s sovereign supply against man’s arrogant striving. Scripture hammers this home in Romans 5, where God demonstrates His love by dying for us while we were still powerless enemies, not waiting for us to scrape together some spiritual currency. The religious types, peddling their “sacrifices” like vendors at a flea market, essentially claim God needs their input to be glorified, as if the Creator of the universe relies on our loneliness or pain to pad His resume. But Ephesians 2 flips that delusion: We’re saved by grace through faith, not works, so no one can boast—God gets all the glory for the rescue operation. The faithless cling to their “contributions,” finding God “useful” only as a platform for their ego trips, while the gospel invites us to revel in His usefulness to us, paying every bill and piling on blessings. It’s like showing up to a royal banquet and insisting on washing dishes to “earn” your seat—what a comical insult to the King’s hospitality.

Dig deeper, and the contrast exposes a rotten core in the religious facade: They honor God with lips but hearts far from Him, as Jesus quotes Isaiah in Matthew 15, substituting human traditions for divine commands. God’s showing off in communion reminds us we’re recipients, not donors—He enriches us with Abraham’s blessings in Galatians 3, not because we tithe our way to favor, but because Christ redeemed us from the curse. The faithless, meanwhile, parade their “giving” as if suffering rejection or upheaval somehow blesses God, ignoring that He endured those for us so we could enjoy acceptance and peace. This fundamental clash boils down to humility versus hubris: Embrace God’s lavish giving, or cling to your “sacrifices” and miss the feast—after all, who turns down infinite upgrades from the ultimate Provider?

When we gather around the Lord’s table, breaking bread and lifting the cup, it’s not a somber ritual of our meager offerings to Him—it’s a vivid reminder of His boundless giving to us. As I’ve emphasized in my systematic theology, the gospel isn’t a transaction where we scrape together scraps to appease a distant deity; it’s God lavishing His riches on undeserving sinners, making us heirs to blessings that stagger the imagination. Picture it: God, the ultimate showman, orchestrating the cross not just to forgive but to flood us with health, wealth, peace, and power—all sealed in Christ’s blood. Communion verses drive this home, flipping the script on the faithless who twist it into a showcase of human sacrifice. With a wink of divine irony, it’s as if God says, “Watch this,” and unleashes a cascade of goodies we could never earn.

Start with the foundational scene in 1 Corinthians 11:23-26 (NLT): “For I pass on to you what I received from the Lord himself. On the night when he was betrayed, the Lord Jesus took some bread and gave thanks to God for it. Then he broke it in pieces and said, ‘This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ In the same way, he took the cup of wine after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant between God and his people—an agreement confirmed with my blood. Do this in remembrance of me as often as you drink it.’ For every time you eat this bread and drink this cup, you are announcing the Lord’s death until he comes again.” Paul doesn’t frame this as our pious duty to God but as a proclamation of what Christ has done—His body broken and blood spilled as the ultimate act of divine generosity. The focus isn’t on our remembrance as a work we perform; it’s on Christ’s self-giving, activating the new covenant where God pledges to be our God and us His people (Hebrews 8:10). This isn’t mutual back-scratching; it’s God initiating, funding, and fulfilling every promise, from forgiveness to flourishing.

Deductively, if the gospel is rooted in substitutionary atonement—where Christ bears our curses so we inherit His blessings—then communion celebrates this one-way flow from heaven to earth. Isaiah 53:4-5 (NLT) lays it bare: “Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down… He was beaten so we could be whole. He was whipped so we could be healed.” Here, the prophet doesn’t depict us clambering up to God with offerings; instead, Christ shoulders our infirmities, exchanging His wholeness for our brokenness. Matthew 8:17 applies this directly to physical healing during Jesus’ ministry, confirming it’s no metaphor—Christ’s stripes secure our health as surely as His blood our pardon. Galatians 3:13-14 extends this to the broader Abrahamic blessing: “But Christ has rescued us from the curse pronounced by the law. When he was hung on the cross, he took upon himself the curse for our wrongdoing… Through Christ Jesus, God has blessed the Gentiles with the same blessing he promised to Abraham, so that we who are believers might receive the promised Holy Spirit through faith.” Paul calls this exchange the gospel preached to Abraham—miracles, the Spirit’s power, and prosperity flowing freely, not earned by our sweat but gifted through Christ’s sacrifice. To partake in communion is to affirm this reality: God shows off by supplying what we lack, turning paupers into princes without a dime from our pockets.

Contrast this with the upside-down worldview of the faithless and religious, who peddle a gospel of human striving. They love to parade their sacrifices—enduring sickness as “God’s will,” scraping by in poverty to prove piety, or boasting in loneliness as spiritual badge. But as John 15:16 (NLT) declares, “You didn’t choose me. I chose you. I appointed you to go and produce lasting fruit, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask for, using my name.” Jesus doesn’t summon us to grovel; He appoints us to ask and receive, echoing the Father’s love mirrored in His own. The religious flip this, imagining God delights in our offerings more than His. It’s like showing up to a feast hosted by a billionaire and insisting on washing dishes to “earn” your seat. 1 John 4:10 (NLT) nails it: “This is real love—not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins.” The faithless invert this, making communion a somber tally of their deeds, but Scripture insists it’s God’s showcase: He loved first, gave first, and keeps giving without tally.

Romans 5:6-10 (NLT) amplifies this divine extravagance: “When we were utterly helpless, Christ came at just the right time and died for us sinners. Now, most people would not be willing to die for an upright person, though someone might perhaps be willing to die for a person who is especially good. But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners. And since we have been made right in God’s sight by the blood of Christ, he will certainly save us from God’s condemnation. For since our friendship with God was restored by the death of his Son while we were still his enemies, we will certainly be saved through the life of his Son.” Here, Paul doesn’t spotlight our repentance or works; he spotlights God’s initiative—dying for enemies to make them friends, reconciling while we rebelled. This isn’t quid pro quo; it’s God overwhelming our helplessness with His abundance. In communion, we proclaim this death, not as a dirge for our failings, but as triumph over them—God’s love proven in blood, guaranteeing “how much more” we’ll receive now as reconciled heirs.

Yet, the religious mindset recoils, fearing such grace cheapens holiness. They cling to a theology where suffering showcases their devotion, but 2 Corinthians 8:9 (NLT) dismantles that: “You know the generous grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you could become rich.” Paul ties this directly to financial generosity, urging the Corinthians to give from abundance secured by Christ’s impoverishment. It’s not our poverty glorifying God; it’s His supply enabling us to be rich, so that in our wealth we can both be blessed and fund His kingdom. Isaiah 53:5 extends this to peace: “The punishment that brought us peace was on him.” Christ absorbed chaos so we inherit shalom—wholeness in body, mind, and circumstances. Begging for peace amid turmoil mocks this exchange; faith claims it as done. The faithless, by contrast, parade endurance as virtue, but that’s human showing off, not God’s. As if God needs our grit to shine—He’s the star, we’re the beneficiaries.

John 15:9-15 (NLT) weaves love, joy, and answered prayer into this tapestry: “I have loved you even as the Father has loved me. Remain in my love… I have told you these things so that you will be filled with my joy. Yes, your joy will overflow! This is my commandment: Love each other in the same way I have loved you. There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command… You didn’t choose me. I chose you. I appointed you to go and produce lasting fruit, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask for, using my name.” Jesus doesn’t demand we earn His love; He pours it out, commanding us to abide in it for overflowing joy. Friendship with God isn’t forged by our sacrifices but His—laying down life for us. The fruit? Answered prayers, not as reward for our efforts but as evidence of His choosing. Communion echoes this: We remember His laying down, not ours, receiving joy and provision as appointed heirs.

In 2 Corinthians 5:14-21 (NLT), Paul underscores reconciliation as God’s initiative: “For the love of Christ controls us… And he died for all, so that we who receive God’s new life will no longer live for ourselves. Instead, we will live for Christ… This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun! And all of this is a gift from God, who brought us back to himself through Christ… For God made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ.” The new creation isn’t our makeover project; it’s God’s gift, swapping our sin for His righteousness. No room for self-flagellation here—God reconciled the world to Himself, not counting sins against us. Communion proclaims this death, celebrating the swap that makes us whole, not wallowing in what’s already buried.

Leviticus 26:6-12 (NLT) foreshadows this in covenant language: “I will give you peace in the land, and you will be able to sleep with no cause for fear… I will look favorably upon you, making you fertile and multiplying your people. And I will fulfill my covenant with you… I will walk among you; I will be your God, and you will be my people.” God doesn’t promise peace as our achievement; He grants it, fulfilling His covenant through Christ. The faithless invert this, enduring fear as spiritual discipline, but that’s demonic sleight-of-hand. God is showing off peace now.

Hebrews 9-10 ties it to Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice: “Under the old covenant, the priest stands and ministers before the altar day after day, offering the same sacrifices again and again, which can never take away sins. But our High Priest offered himself to God as a single sacrifice for sins, good for all time. Then he sat down in the place of honor at God’s right hand… For by that one offering he forever made perfect those who are being made holy” (Hebrews 10:11-14 NLT). No endless striving—Christ’s offering perfects us, activating the new covenant where God writes laws on hearts and remembers sins no more. Communion isn’t reliving guilt; it’s rejoicing in perfection already secured.

In conclusion, communion verses paint the gospel as God’s grand spectacle of giving—righteousness, healing, wealth, peace—all flowing from Christ’s cross to us. The religious, with their self-showcasing sacrifices, peddle a counterfeit, but Scripture demands we receive boldly, glorifying God by enjoying His bounty. As Romans 5:11 (NLT) sums it: “So now we can rejoice in our wonderful new relationship with God because our Lord Jesus Christ has made us friends of God.” God shows off by friending enemies. Lift the cup, break the bread, and revel in His generosity. After all, who turns down a divine upgrade?

Communion Verses

Below is a common list of verses I go over before communion.

(1 Corinthians 11)
For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread,  and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, 

“This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.”

 In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, 

“This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” 

 For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

 (John 15)
If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you want and it will be done for you. 

 “Just as the Father has loved me, I also have loved you. … I have spoken these things to you in order that my joy may be in you, and your joy may be made complete. …  No one has greater love than this: that someone lay down his life for his friends.  You are my friends…
 You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit, and your fruit should remain, in order that whatever you ask the Father in my name he will give you.

(John 4)
 In this is love: not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.

  
And we have come to know and have believed the love that God has in us. God is love, and the one who resides in love resides in God, and God resides in him.  

By this love is perfected with us, so that we may have confidence in the day of judgment, because just as that one is, so also are we in this world.  There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear..


(Romans 5)
You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God’s wrath through him!  For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life! 

(1 Corinthians 1)
Therefore does the one who gives you the Spirit and who works miracles among you do so by the works of the law, or by the hearing of faith?

 Just as Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him for righteousness,  then understand that the ones who have faith[a], these are sons of Abraham. And the scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, proclaimed the good news in advance to Abraham: “In you all the nations will be blessed.” So then, the ones who have faith are blessed together with Abraham who believed…

Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, because it is written, “Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree,” in order that the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles in Christ Jesus, so that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith.

 But of Him you are in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God—and righteousness and sanctification and redemption— that, as it is written, “He who glories, let him glory in the Lord.

(Isaiah 53) 
Surely He has borne our griefs (sicknesses, weaknesses, and distresses) and carried our sorrows and pains [of punishment], yet we [ignorantly] considered Him stricken, smitten, and afflicted by God [as if with leprosy].But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our guilt and iniquities; the chastisement [needful to obtain] peace and well-being for us was upon Him, and with the stripes [that wounded] Him we are healed and made whole.

For He shall bear [the responsibility for] their sins.

Yet He Himself bore and took away the sin of many,
And interceded [with the Father] for the transgressors.

(Isaiah 54)
If anyone attacks you, it’s none of my doing.
    Whoever attacks you will fall because of you.

 No weapon fashioned against you will succeed,
    and you may condemn every tongue that disputes with you.
This is the inheritance of the Lord’s servants,
    whose righteousness comes from me.

(Hebrews 9-10)
For by the power of the eternal Spirit, Christ offered himself to God as a perfect sacrifice for our sins. 

The will goes into effect only after the person’s death.

Then he said, “This blood confirms the covenant God has made with you.”

If they could have provided perfect cleansing, the sacrifices would have stopped, for the worshipers would have been purified once for all time, and their feelings of guilt would have disappeared.

(Hebrews 10)
But this is the new covenant I will make
    
I will put my laws in their minds,
    and I will write them on their hearts.
I will be their God,
    and they will be my people…’
For everyone, will already know me.
 And I will forgive their wickedness,
    and I will never again remember their sins.”

But our High Priest offered himself to God as a single sacrifice for sins, good for all time.
Then he sat down in the place of honor at God’s right hand. 
There he waits until his enemies are humbled and made a footstool under his feet. 
For by that one offering he forever made perfect those who are being made holy.

(2 Corinthians 5)
And he died for all, in order that those who live should no longer live for themselves, but for the one who died for them and was raised.

So then, from now on we know no one from a human point of view, if indeed we have known Christ from a human point of view, but now we know him this way no longer.  

Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old things have passed away; behold, new things have come.  

And all these things are from God, who has reconciled us to himself through Christ, …God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, …

  He made the one who did not know sin to be sin on our behalf, in order that we could become the righteousness of God in him.

 (2  Corinthians 8-9)
For you are recognizing [more clearly] the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ [His astonishing kindness, His generosity, His gracious favor], that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, so that by His poverty you might become rich (abundantly blessed).  
And God is able to make all grace [every favor and earthly blessing] come in abundance to you, so that you may always [under all circumstances, regardless of the need] have complete sufficiency in everything [being completely self-sufficient in Him], and have an abundance for every good work and act of charity.

(Levitus 26)
“‘I will grant peace in the land, and you will lie down and no one will make you afraid. I will remove wild beasts from the land, and the sword will not pass through your country. You will pursue your enemies, and they will fall by the sword before you. Five of you will chase a hundred, and a hundred of you will chase ten thousand, and your enemies will fall by the sword before you.

“‘I will look on you with favor and make you fruitful and increase your numbers, and I will keep my covenant with you. You will still be eating last year’s harvest when you will have to move it out to make room for the new. I will put my dwelling place among you, and I will not abhor you.  I will walk among you and be your God, and you will be my people.  I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt so that you would no longer be slaves to the Egyptians; I broke the bars of your yoke and enabled you to walk with heads held high.

Seeing Jesus Is Seeing The Father

John 14:9 “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father.”

This is not a warm fuzzy or a theological footnote; it is the hinge on which everything turns. It is seeing God. It is God. Because this is God, you cannot get more God centered than God. Every step Jesus took, every command He barked at disease, every miracle that left crowds speechless; these are the Father’s fingerprints. When you read the Gospels’ testimony of what Jesus did, two things dominate the record more than His sermons: healing the sick and working miracles. That is not coincidence. That is revelation. When you see Jesus healing and providing miracles more than sermons, you see God. You get a revelation about who God is. Buckle your seat belt, because it doesn’t get more God centered than this.

God is a healer by nature, not by contract or mood swing. Jesus healing, and healing and healing shows us God. To claim He will not heal when we ask is to call the Son a liar and to deny that seeing Him is seeing the Father. Jesus always healed, despite all those people having their own sins. He still healed them all. He spent more time restoring bodies than expounding parables. That is Jesus. Because that is Jesus, that is the Father.

As Vincent Cheung said in the essay, “Healing and God’s Nature,”

“No one insists that a man must hear the gospel only from someone who carries a gift of evangelism. The gospel carries power by its own divine content, because it reveals the nature and work of God in Christ. Likewise, healing does not wait upon the presence of some charismatic specialist, nor does it depend on the operation of revelatory signs to prove Scripture. It belongs to the same redemptive reality as the forgiveness of sins. The Lord is the healer, as much as he is the savior, judge, or provider. He acts from who he is. God does not work justice only when there is new revelation that he must authenticate. Justice is who he is. And God does not provide only when it is tied to some special promise or covenant. He revealed himself as the Lord who provides and who gives the power to get wealth. Prosperity is who he is. He is not made to become something he is not by a covenant. These are expressions of his very being. He is the one who is, before all covenants and promises, and what he is cannot be canceled by human tradition or theological deceit.”

Look at the Gospels. Luke 4:18-19 is Jesus’ mission statement—preaching good news, liberty to captives, sight to the blind, freedom to the oppressed. Then the text explodes: demons flee, fevers vanish, lepers are cleansed, the dead stand up. He could have camped in synagogues dissecting doctrine, but He moved from village to village, touching the untouchable, commanding paralysis to pack its bags. Why the obsession? Jesus was showing us the Father. “If you see me, you see the Father.” Satan victimizes through sickness (Acts 10:38), but the Father counters with healing and miracles. Every restored body is the Father dismantling the devil’s work.

If healing were optional, Jesus wasted daylight; but since it is central to God being God, those miracles were the message. Because the message comes from God and healing is God, the message is about healing, and so, a few signs will be used to authenticate this message, which is about healing. If the gospel message is brimming with promises of physical healing, deliverance from oppression, and the unleashing of resurrected power through faith, then how on earth does it make sense to say the signs pointing to that message deliver more substance than the message itself? It’s like advertising a feast with mouthwatering samples, only to serve up empty plates at the main event. The authentication would end up wielding more power than the finished atonement or even Jesus Himself, seated in glory at the Father’s right hand. The pointer becomes mightier than the pointed-to finished gospel, and the king’s banner, greater than the king himself. If the healing authenticating miracles promised healing but the finished product withholds it, we’re left with a gospel that’s all sizzle and no steak—a cruel joke that only Satan could have conceived. (And this is beside the point that Abraham’s gospel and Jesus’ atonement makes such reasoning a fallacy of composition.)

God revealed Himself as “The Lord who Heals you,” Exodus 15:26. In this verse, God reveals Himself as the Healer to the Israelites after they experienced bitter water at Marah, promising to keep them from the diseases of the Egyptians if they obey His commandments. It was directly and originally about physical healing, not some mystical spiritual healing. He is the God who heals you. God is healer, as God is the Word, or God is Love, or God is Power. Healing is who God is.

This flows straight from the atonement. Isaiah 53:4-5 is blunt: “Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering… by his wounds we are healed.” Matthew 8:17 nails this as physical healing to Jesus’ ministry—He carried sickness the same way He carried sin. In the substitutionary atonement, Jesus took 39 stripes in exchange for my healing. It is already done. In the Father’s mind, my sicknesses were lifted off me and laid on Him. James 5:15 leaves no wiggle room: “The prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up.” No asterisks, no divine maybe; just faith cashing the check already signed in blood. To treat healing as a lottery ticket is to mock the stripes. If the Father went to that length, calling it optional is like inheriting a palace and sleeping on the curb. It is not humility; it is unbelief.

Now layer on the Abrahamic promise. Galatians 3 grafts me in: “If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” God swore to Abraham fame, wealth, health, supernatural favor (Genesis 12:2-3). Through Jesus, I inherit the whole package. The blessing of Abraham, which I have today through Jesus, includes the baptism of the Spirit and healing. Healing, long and strong life, the Spirit and miracles is part of the ancient promise of God. Jesus invoked it when He freed the woman bent double for eighteen years: “Should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound… be set free?” (Luke 13:16). It was necessary because the Father keeps covenants. Deny healing and you orphan yourself from the inheritance.

Satan’ disciples love to murmur doubt where Scripture roars certainty. They say miracles faded, healing is rare, but suffering is noble. That is the same spirit that blocked Jesus in Nazareth (Mark 6:5-6). We call it what it is: Sickness is Satan’s glory; sickness is not God’s glory. Healing is God’s glory. Accepting illness as “God’s plan” hands the devil a trophy Jesus already crushed. The Father is not glorified in my pain; He is exalted when faith claims the healing His Son bled for.

If seeing Jesus is seeing the Father, then the Father is the ultimate Healer, pouring restoration like water on dry ground. Through the atonement He swapped my broken body for healed body; through Abraham’s promise He guarantees ongoing favor. Faith is not begging; it is agreeing with His yes. The Bible assumes I need miracle power, healing, and prophecy to finish strong. Jesus spent His ministry healing more than preaching. Who am I to reverse the ratio? Thus, God is healer.

Look at the crowds pressing in—multitudes dragging their broken on mats, in arms, on hope alone—and Jesus does not give pop quizzes about sin. He heals. All of them. Matthew 4:23-24 is brutal in its simplicity: teaching, proclaiming, healing every disease and sickness. No exceptions, no “sometimes,” no “if it’s My will.” Despite all these people’s sins, Jesus healed them all. All of them. This is Jesus. This is the Father. Seeing Jesus is seeing the Father, and Jesus did not give false advertisement about the Father when He healed all of them.

If seeing the Son is seeing the Father, then the Father’s default posture toward my body is restoration, not resignation. Anything less accuses the Son of false advertising and the Father of bait-and-switch. We refuse. The same hands that shaped galaxies touched blind eyes and watched them track light. That is my God.

Flip the page to Mark 1:34—He healed many, but the “many” is not a ceiling; it is the floor of a day already crammed with preaching and exorcism. Time ran out, not power. The next morning He is gone before dawn, praying, because more towns wait with more sick. Preaching is vital, but healing is God being God; healing is God being faithful to His Promise, and healing is the kingdom breaking in.

Jesus spent more time healing than preaching because the Father is more eager to fix my body than to force me to hear another sermon about how broken it is. God is healer and so He tells me He can heal, and then He heals me. Devil dogmatics is about telling how sinful you are, and how weakened, and how sick you are from God’s curse because Adam sinned. The faithless love to tell you this, but they do not heal you. They do not remove the curse and cancer from your body. They do not remove sin conscience from the mind. They do not remove the pain in your bones. That is what we call a Devil Twilight Zone, where God loses and Satan wins by stealing, hurting and killing you with sickness.

To pray “if it be Your will” over cancer is to stare at Jesus healing a leper and mutter, “Yeah, but maybe not.” That is not humility; it’s not even cessationism, that is satanism. The Father who thundered “Let there be light” still thunders “Be whole” through the stripes of His Son. The only biblical response is to obey God and get healed.

I do not need a covenant to force the Father into being a healer—He already is, eternally, unchangeably, and the covenant is merely His gracious way of locking that healing into my specific relationship with Him. The blood oath to Abraham and the stripes on Jesus do not manufacture a reluctant God; they reveal a God who has always conceived me, in predestination and election, in perfect health within His mind, and who now binds Himself by sworn promise so that even if I have weak faith, it has something concrete to hold on to. The contract is not the cause of His healing nature; His healing nature is the cause of the contract. God makes Himself my healing in promise and by blood not because He requires motivation—He is the motivation. God is healing, and so He delights to anchor my confidence in ink that cannot fade and wounds that have already closed. To treat the covenant as a mere legal loophole is to miss the heartbeat: the Father heals because that is who He is, and every stripe, every oath, every “by His wounds you are healed” is simply Him saying, “I am God, and therefore you are healed.”

If you have seen Jesus, who always healed, you have seen The Father. He always healed those stuffed with sin; Jesus did not ask them to even repent, but always healed all of them. Think about that. Jesus never made sin a block to healing, despite healing so many. It was never mentioned. We know the crowds were very sinful people because Jesus told the crowds they were sinful. And yet, Jesus healed all of them, without qualification. If they asked, they got healed. Every single time. There was no exception to this. If you have seen Jesus, you have seen the God of creation. You have seen the Father. There is no other God but this God.