Tag Archives: Atonment

God Gave Me His Son’s Righteousness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is Something My Will If I Already Did It?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

A Deep Relationship with the Sun

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whose Side Are You On?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does the Father Know You?

Jesus said, “If you have seen me you have seen the Father.” Think about that for a moment. There are countless voices out there claiming to define who God is, but Jesus cuts through the noise with absolute clarity: if you’ve seen Him, you’ve seen the Father. This isn’t some vague poetic flourish; it’s a revelation from the Son Himself, grounding our understanding of God’s character in the person and work of Christ. In the passage from Matthew 14, we see this truth illustrated, not through human speculation, but through Jesus’ actions amid a crowd desperate for relief. The disciple had just faltered in faith, doubting even as he stepped out on the water, yet the crowds surged toward Him with a simple, unwavering expectation. They believed that merely touching the edge of His cloak would bring healing—and without exception, every single one who reached out was made whole.

 Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down.  Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.” When they had crossed over, they landed at Gennesaret.  And when the men of that place recognized Jesus, they sent word to all the surrounding country. People brought all their sick to him and begged him to let the sick just touch the edge of his cloak, and all who touched it were healed. (Matthew 14:31-36 NIV)

This scene isn’t merely a historical footnote; its an infallible revelation of the heart of God. These weren’t spiritual elites—Jesus Himself described crowds like this as sinful, riddled with all manner of failings. Among thousands pressing in, there had to be some deeply entrenched in rebellion, yet not one was turned away. No lectures on repentance first, no prerequisites beyond their faith-fueled pursuit. They chased Him down, overtaking His boat, driven by the conviction that He was willing and able to restore them. And He did. Every ache erased, every affliction lifted. This is Jesus. This is the Father. This is the God we approach in prayer, the One whose nature overflows with compassion so profound that it heals without hesitation.

Before diving into the specifics of how healing ties into Abraham’s covenant and Jesus’ atonement, let’s linger on this foundational truth. God’s compassion isn’t a side note or an occasional mood swing; it’s the essence of who He is, revealed in Christ. Scripture doesn’t portray a distant deity weighing our worthiness on scales of performance. Instead, we see a Father so eager to bless that He over-engineers our redemption, providing multiple avenues for us to receive what He’s already accomplished. In Isaiah 53:4-5, we read that He bore our sicknesses and carried our pains, and by His stripes, we are healed. Matthew 8:17 confirms this wasn’t some spiritual metaphor but literal fulfillment in Jesus’ ministry, where He healed the sick as a direct outworking of that prophecy. James 5:15 echoes it: the prayer of faith will raise the sick, and the Lord will restore them. These aren’t suggestions; they’re promises rooted in God’s unchanging character.

Yet, how often do some approach God as if He’s reluctant? They pray hedging their bets—“if it’s Your will”—as though His compassion might waver like a fickle breeze. That’s not the Father Jesus revealed. In Matthew 9:36, seeing the crowds harassed and helpless like sheep without a shepherd, He was moved with compassion. The Greek word there, splagchnizomai, literally means to be stirred in the gut—a deep, visceral empathy that propelled Him to action. He taught, proclaimed the kingdom, and healed every disease and sickness among them. No audits of their sin logs, no waiting periods. Compassion drove Him to meet their needs immediately. And if we’ve seen Jesus, we’ve seen the Father—compassionate, powerful, and utterly committed to our wholeness.

This compassion alone should be enough to fuel our faith for healing. Those crowds in Matthew 14 weren’t quoting chapter and verse on atonement theology; they simply saw in Jesus a God who cared, who wouldn’t withhold good from those who sought Him. And He proved them right, healing every one without fail. No rejections, no “not today,” no mysterious denials. This is the God we pray to—a Father whose default is yes when faith reaches out. As Vincent Cheung notes in “Healing: The Will of Man,” “God’s will on healing is an artificially generated question. It is a theological scam and a trap. Christians should have never focused so much on it… Jesus answered the man, ‘All things are possible for one who believes.’” Here, Cheung highlights how Scripture shifts the focus from God’s Will to human Will, urging us to trust God’s revealed willingness rather than inventing barriers.

But let’s be frank: if your prayers for healing come laced with doubt, as if God might play favorites or withhold on a whim, you’re not praying to the Father Jesus unveiled. You’re addressing a counterfeit, a stingy idol crafted from human speculation and unbelief. The proof that you know this compassionate God—and that He knows you—is in the receiving. Just as the crowds’ touch brought instant restoration, your faith in His promises should yield the same. Mark 5:34 tells of the woman with the issue of blood: “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” Luke 7:50 echoes it to the sinful woman: “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” Faith in Jesus’ compassion doesn’t beg; it receives what’s already provided.

This ties directly into the blood covenant we have with God through Christ, a contract that guarantees healing as part of our inheritance. In Galatians 3:13-14, Paul explains that Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, so that we might receive the blessing of Abraham and the promise of the Spirit through faith. What was Abraham’s blessing? As detailed in Genesis 12-17, it was unmerited favor: prosperity, health, protection, and descendants as numerous as the stars. God declared Himself Abraham’s shield and very great reward, and Abraham believed, crediting it to him as righteousness (Romans 4:3). No mention of sin there—just God’s lavish promises. And Jesus, in Luke 13:16, healed a woman bound by Satan for 18 years, declaring it was necessary because “she was a daughter of Abraham.” Healing wasn’t optional; it was covenant-bound, a must for God’s faithfulness.

In the atonement, this exchange is perfected. Isaiah 53 isn’t poetic fluff—it’s prophetic precision: He took our infirmities and bore our diseases, and with His wounds, we are healed. Peter confirms it in 1 Peter 2:24: “By his wounds you have been healed.” Past tense, accomplished. Matthew 8:17 applies it directly to Jesus’ ministry, where He healed all who came, fulfilling that prophecy. James 5:15 commands the elders to pray over the sick, and the prayer offered in faith will make them well. This isn’t a “gift of healing” scenario; it’s faith in the promise, the same faith that receives forgiveness. Why? Because healing, like salvation, flows from the same substitution: Jesus bore our sickness so we don’t have to. To doubt healing is to doubt the fullness of His work, trampling the blood that bought it.

Those who peddle unbelief here—claiming healing isn’t guaranteed, or it’s not for today—aren’t just mistaken; they’re opposing the gospel. They’ll quote verses on suffering while ignoring the avalanche of promises for wholeness. It’s like focusing on Job’s boils and forgetting the double restoration at the end. Job’s suffering was for a brief moment and his excessive health and wealth was for a lifetime. God doesn’t contradict Himself; He over-engineers our benefits to crush doubt. Galatians 3 reminds us the curse included every disease (Deuteronomy 28), and Christ redeemed us from it all. So, three ways sickness was lifted: borne away (Isaiah 53:4), by His stripes (53:5), and through curse-reversal (Galatians 3:13). Even if one avenue feels shaky (which is shouldn’t), grab another—faith has options because God’s compassion is extravagant.

Skeptics act like God’s a cosmic miser, doling out healings like a kid with Halloween candy—only the “good” ones get the full-size bars. Meanwhile, Scripture shows Him flinging open the storehouse, saying, “Take it all—it’s yours!” If faith moves mountains (Matthew 17:20), why settle for molehills? Jesus rebuked His disciples for little faith amid storms and sickness, then turned to outsiders like the Canaanite woman (Matthew 15:28): “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” She twisted His words with bold belief, and her daughter was healed instantly. No religious resume required—just faith in His compassion.

This is the Father who knows you: the One who heals because He loves, who provides because He promised, who empowers because you’re His. The proof? Receive it. If you pray to a God who “might” heal, you don’t know Him. But if you approach with the crowds’ audacity—believing He’s willing, able, and eager—you’ll find every touch met with wholeness. As Mark 9:23 declares, “Everything is possible for one who believes.” Don’t let bad reports or weak theology rob you. Confess His promises, command reality to align, and watch the Father prove Himself through your faith. This is knowing God—not in theory, but in triumphant, life-altering reality. And yes, He knows you too—enough to heal you today.

Paul drives this home in 1 Corinthians 2:11-12: “For who knows a person’s thoughts except the spirit of that person, which is in him? So also no one comprehends the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God.” The Spirit reveals God’s mind to us, and through faith, we grasp His lavish gifts—including healing. Jesus, in Matthew 7:7-11, ties knowing God to receiving good things: ask in faith, and your Father gives generously, not withholding like earthly dads might. To know God is to know His unwavering commitment to heal, as Isaiah 53:4-5 declares He bore our infirmities for our wholeness. Doubt this, and you’re not communing with the true God but a figment born of unbelief. True knowledge of God ignites bold faith that commands sickness to flee, echoing Peter in Acts 3:16: “And his name—by faith in his name—has made this man strong.” Receive healing, and you’ll know Him intimately, as Jeremiah 17:14 promises: “Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved, for you are my praise.”

There is no other God but this Jesus who healed all, without exception. If you pray to a God who might not heal, you do not pray to Jesus. And by extension you do not pray to the Father. You do not know God, and you are not praying to God, if you pray not expecting with guarantee of healing when asked in faith. This is the only God who exist. There is no other God. Do you know Him? And Does this God who always heal, know you? The proof that this Jesus and this God knows you, is you getting healed.

A Deep Relationship Without Guarantees?

Picture this: you’re diving headfirst into the depths of a relationship, pouring out your soul, investing time and trust, only to be told there’s no promise of anything good coming your way—no security, no tangible benefits, just an endless plunge into emotional waters with no shore in sight. Sounds like a recipe for heartbreak, doesn’t it? Yet, that’s precisely the distorted portrait Dane C. Ortlund paints in his book “In the Lord I Take Refuge.” He takes the raw, promise-packed Psalms and spiritualizes them into a misty refuge of inner comfort, stripping away the concrete guarantees of healing, prosperity, and deliverance that God Himself embeds in His Word. Ortlund prioritizes a “deep” relational intimacy with God while sidelining the very assurances that make such depth meaningful. It’s like inviting someone to a feast and serving only air—satisfying in theory, but starving in reality.

I have picked Ortlund as a typical example, and not because he is somehow worse than the average faithless or traditionalist.

This approach isn’t just a mild misreading; it’s a slap in the face to the Almighty. Human relationships, even flawed ones, come with built-in guarantees. My bond with my parents wasn’t some ethereal vibe; it carried the weight of promised help, unwavering love, and practical support through thick and thin. With my identical twin brother, Joshua, our connection was laced with absolute commitments—we had each other’s backs, no questions asked. Marriages thrive on vows that spell out fidelity, care, and mutual upliftment. If earthly ties demand such reliability, how much more should our covenant with the Creator? The Psalms don’t whisper vague spiritual consolations; they roar with divine pledges that encompass the whole person—body, soul, and circumstances. To suggest otherwise is to demote God below the level of faithful pagans, turning His fatherly embrace into Satanic emotional abuse. The God the faith-fumblers portray, confuse God and Satan, as if it is difficult to separate the two.

Turn to the Scriptures, as we must, and let them interpret themselves with unflinching logic and context. Psalm 91 doesn’t mince words about the guarantees flowing from dwelling in God’s shelter. “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty,” it declares, setting the stage for a relationship rooted in trust. But it doesn’t stop at inner peace; it unfolds into ironclad protections: “Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence… No harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent… With long life I will satisfy him and show him my salvation” (Psalm 91:1, 3, 10, 16, NIV). Here, the relational depth—acknowledging God’s name and loving Him—triggers tangible outcomes: rescue from plagues, angelic guardianship, victory over threats like lions and serpents. This isn’t spiritual fluff; it’s God committing to override physical dangers for those who call on Him. Faith-fumblers might frame this as mere emotional steadiness amid trials, but the text demands more—it’s a blueprint for faith that expects and receives real-world deliverance.

Similarly, Psalm 103 explodes with benefits that refuse to be confined to the spiritual realm. “Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits—who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s” (Psalm 103:2-5, NIV). Forgiveness and healing stand side by side, both as guaranteed outflows of God’s compassionate character. The context here is a fatherly relationship: “As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him” (v. 13). This isn’t abstract renewal; it’s holistic restoration—sins wiped clean, bodies mended, desires fulfilled with prosperity and vitality. To spiritualize healing as just “comfort” or emotional “renewal” without physical application, as Ortlund does, is to gut the verse of its power. God doesn’t dangle carrots He won’t deliver, not that Satan’s job. Satan is the world expert on carrot dangling, but God brings to the table to Abraham where healing is daily bread on the table. His promises are yes and amen in Christ, extending to the material world He created and redeems.

And then there’s Psalm 34, where David, fresh from feigning madness to escape danger, testifies to God’s reliability: “I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears… This poor man called, and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles… The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles” (Psalm 34:4, 6, 17, NIV). Notice the repetition of “all”—not some, not most, but every single trouble. This psalm ties relational seeking to comprehensive rescue, including from physical perils like broken bones or lack (v. 10: “Those who seek the Lord lack no good thing”). It’s a call to taste and see God’s goodness, not in spite of circumstances but by transforming them. Faith-fumblers emphasis on prayerful reflection without prescribing outcomes misses this: faith isn’t passive endurance; it’s active expectation that God will act as promised, destroying enemies, sickness, and want.

Drawing from the broader biblical narrative, this pattern holds from Eden onward. God’s original design in the Garden was a relationship of total favor—provision without toil, health without decay, dominion without opposition. Sin fractured it, but His gospel to Abraham reinstated guarantees: land, fame, military victories, health, wealth, descendants, blessing that overflowed materially and spiritually (Genesis 12:2-3). Jesus embodied this, healing all who came to Him, not as optional extras but as faithfulness to His old promise to Abraham and Jesus’ finished atonement. (Matthew 8:16-17, fulfilling Isaiah 53:4-5). Jesus Christ didn’t spiritualize away the promises; He commanded faith to move mountains, heal the sick, and prosper in every way (Mark 11:23; 3 John 1:2). God’s salvation is total, encompassing body and spirit. Sickness isn’t His signature—it’s Satan’s graffiti on His masterpiece, and faith in the atonement erases it clean.

Vincent Cheung echoes this in his writings on faith and sovereignty, noting that true biblical faith grasps God’s promises without apology, applying them directly to life’s battles (from Sermonettes Vol. 6, p. 81, “Two Views on God’s Word”). He warns against limiting the promises, and gutting Jesus’ faith doctrine to hell and back, making the same scripture both promise and then negate the promise. This turns theology into a “mad house.”  We should not excuse sin or doubt by voiding the promises to make us look better. But Ortlund’s view risks fostering a faith that’s deep in sentiment yet shallow in substance, encouraging believers to settle for inner solace while the devil runs rampant in their health and finances.

Imagine God as the ultimate spouse, vowing eternal love but whispering, “No guarantees on the good stuff—just hang in there.” That’d be grounds for divine counseling! There is a person who whispers this and their name is Satan. Imagine being so confused about reality, that you married Satan, thinking you married God. People can’t tell the difference between God and Satan and yet they want to school us in doctrine?  No, the Psalms portray a God who screams, “Call to me and I will answer you” (Jeremiah 33:3, echoed in Psalms like 50:15), promising salvation, long life, and answers to our cries. Our inner peace stems from seeing Him pulverize troubles, not from ignoring them. We have heart-level calm because He grants all-around peace—enemies crushed, bodies healed, needs met. The Bible knows no split-level relationship with God: inward but not outward, spiritual but not material. From Abraham’s wealth to Jesus’ miracles, depth with God guarantees favor for the whole man.

In conclusion, Ortlund’s book, dishonors the Psalms by diluting their promises into devil devotions, training the mind to disbelieve God and bow to empiricism. True refuge in the Lord isn’t a guarantee-free zone; it’s a fortress stocked with every good thing, activated by faith. Let’s reject this faithless insult and embrace the God who delivers from “all” troubles, heals “all” diseases, and satisfies with prosperity. That’s the deep relationship worth pursuing—one where guarantees aren’t optional but the very foundation. It’s foundational because God is the who gives to us, not the other way around. The gospel is God giving all good things to us, and as Jesus told Martha, the resurrection means a good miracle now. Because God did not spare His own Son, He will freely give us all things (Romans 8:32).

Because the gospel is already completed and Jesus is already at the Father’s right hand, we already have all these benefits. They already are our definition and identity. They are already part of the active Contract relationship we have with Jesus. This means you cannot remove these guaranteed benefits without removing Jesus Himself, because they are one-thing in essence. The faith-fumblers try to subdivide Jesus and His benefits like fried chicken, but Jesus is one packaged deal. If you don’t receive healing, prosperity and favor from God today, then you cannot receive a relationship with Jesus, because that is Jesus.

Direct and Constant Access to God

Years ago, when I first dove into Vincent Cheung’s commentary on Colossians, it hit me like thunderclap. There I was, flipping through chapter 2, and Vincent further explains what Paul calls “shadows” or “shadow religion”—those rituals, holidays, and sensory crutches that masquerade as piety but throw a veil over the direct, unfiltered access to God that Jesus secured for us. It’s not just ancient Jewish festivals Paul was warning against; Vincent applies it straight to our modern mess, like Christmas trees and Easter bunnies, turning what should be a vibrant, Spirit-drenched faith into a dim echo of the real thing. The church today needs this message hammered home, because we’re no better than those early believers clinging to calendar days, thinking they add something extra when Jesus already delivered the full package. His atonement is finished, His ascension locked in that ongoing ministry of blessings at the Father’s right hand—no bells, no smells, no seasonal vibes required to tap into it. We’ve got it all, right now, if we’d just believe.

In his Commentary on Colossians (2008), Vincent Cheung unpacks Colossians 2:16-17: “These are a shadow of the things that were to come; the reality, however, is found in Christ.” He drives home how Paul is dismantling the Colossian heresy that promised deeper spirituality but delivered nothing but chains. Vincent writes, “The regulations mentioned—’Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!’—refer to things that are all destined to perish with use, because they are based on human commands and teachings. Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence” (Colossians 2:21-23). Then he ties it to contemporary traps: “Christian traditions like Christmas or Lent often function the same way, imposing man-made observances that veil the direct reality of Christ. They suggest we need these shadows to approach God, when the substance is already ours in Him.” It’s a reminder that anything sensory—sights, sounds, smells—we lean on to “feel closer” to God is just a step back into the old covenant’s dim previews, when we’ve got the high-definition fulfillment in Jesus.

Paul isn’t mincing words—these observances were pointers, not the point. The reality is Christ, full stop. No more veils, no more middleman rituals. Satan loves these shadows because they distract from the direct line Jesus opened. The church today is starved for this truth—we’re drowning in sensory religion while the Spirit’s river flows untapped, and the word is not believed.

 In a world where barriers seem to define so much of our existence—whether it’s the red tape of bureaucracy, the emotional walls we build in relationships, or even the digital firewalls that guard our online lives—it’s liberating to consider what the Bible teaches about our access to God. This isn’t some distant, occasional privilege reserved for the spiritual elite, like a VIP pass to a concert that only works on special occasions. No, through Jesus Christ, we have direct and constant access to the Father, a reality that reshapes everything from our answered prayers to our eternal confidence. As I reflect on this, I can’t help but think how the faithless complicate what God has made straightforward.

The New Testament paints a vivid picture of this access, rooted in the finished work of Christ. Consider Ephesians 2:18, where Paul declares, “For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit.” Here, the apostle is addressing the radical shift brought by Jesus’ death and resurrection, tearing down the dividing wall between Jews and Gentiles, but more broadly, between humanity and God. Before Christ, access was mediated through priests, sacrifices, and the temple veil—a system of shadows that pointed forward but never fully delivered the intimacy we now enjoy. That veil, symbolizing separation due to sin, was literally torn in two at the moment of Jesus’ crucifixion (Matthew 27:51), signaling that the way into the Holy of Holies is now open to all who believe. It’s not a seasonal thing, like waiting for the right festival or the perfect alignment of stars; it’s constant, available at any hour, in any circumstance. Hebrews 4:16 urges us to “approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” Boldly! Not with timidity or hesitation, as if we’re crashing a party uninvited. This is the throne room of the universe’s Sovereign, and we’re welcomed as sons and daughters, not strangers.

We can approach those ancient throne room doors to God Himself. We can push against them and swing those massive doors wide open. As we look, the middle of the throne room is empty. But off to the sides are angels and other heavenly hosts. They do not stand in the middle, before God, because they don’t have that type of access. But we do. All eyes watch us as we march down the center aisle, with our heads held high. We march in with boldness, as if we are God’s sons, who are co-heirs—not just mere sub-heirs—with Jesus Christ. We walk in with our heads held high, as if we are the very body of Jesus Christ, because we are. We were not first given a specific reason to come in at that moment. But we can anyway, unannounced. We stand before the throne, looking at God face to face, and boldly make our requests known to God. And God gives us what we ask for. God does this because when He sees us, He sees His Son. He thinks we are part of His Son, and God’s thoughts are the only thoughts that matter on the subject. God is correct, and I agree with God. I am part of Jesus and get prayers answered while boldly walking in and asking without hedging. Who am I to disagree with the Power?

To grasp the depth of this, we look back to the Old Testament contrasts that highlight the new covenant’s superiority. In Exodus 19, when God descended on Mount Sinai, the people trembled at a distance, warned not to touch the mountain lest they die. Even Moses, that great mediator, approached with fear and awe. Yet, in the New Testament, we’re invited to draw near without such dread, because Jesus has become our great High Priest who “ever lives to intercede” for us (Hebrews 7:25). This intercession isn’t a barrier; it’s the guarantee of our direct line to the Father. Romans 5:2 echoes this: “through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand.” Notice the present tense—we stand in it now, not sporadically or conditionally. Faith is the key that unlocks this, and as Vincent Cheung aptly notes in his commentary on faith’s role, it provides “unhindered, direct access to God,” serving as proof of our election. We don’t manufacture this access through rituals or good deeds; it’s gifted through Christ’s atonement, where He bore our sins and opened the path once for all.

 In Ephesians 2, it says we’re sitting with Jesus in the heavenly places. Not that we will be one day, but we already are. If you don’t see yourself that way, it’s because you do not believe God’s word and think He is a liar. Repent and start to agree with your Creator. Think about it. At this very moment, when the Father thinks of you, He thinks you are right now seated with Jesus, who sits at His right hand. He never thinks less of you than in that position with Jesus. If you are not experiencing the benefits of being seated with Jesus right now, that’s your fault and unbelief. God thinks you are, and so you are.

Too many Christians treat this access like an old phone line they only pick up in emergencies, crackling with static from doubt or tradition. They pile on layers of “helps,” like special days or sensory aids, thinking it draws them closer, when in reality, it veils the directness Jesus secured. Days like Christmas or Easter, while culturally ingrained, aren’t biblical doctrines, and so they can subtly shift our focus from revelation and the Spirit to a fleshly starting point. The early church faced similar temptations with Jewish festivals, as Paul warns in Colossians 2:16-17: “Therefore do not let anyone judge you by what you eat or drink, or with regard to a religious festival, a New Moon celebration or a Sabbath day. These are a shadow of the things that were to come; the reality, however, is found in Christ.” Shadows! They’re not the substance. The reason a person wants a shadow and not the real thing is because they do not believe the real exists, or worse, they don’t like it. Our access isn’t enhanced by smells of incense or sounds of carols; it’s sustained by the Holy Spirit, who cries out “Abba, Father” within us (Romans 8:15). This reluctance to embrace constant access often stems from unbelief, masquerading as humility. We think, “Who am I to march boldly into God’s presence?” But the Bible flips that: “How dare you not boldly approach, when Christ has paid such a high price?”

Delving deeper into Scripture, Ephesians 3:12 reinforces this boldness: “In him and through faith in him we may approach God with freedom and confidence.” Freedom—that’s the Greek word parrhesia, implying open, unreserved speech, like chatting with a close friend rather than petitioning a distant king. This isn’t license for irreverence, but it shatters any notion of intermittent access. Jesus Himself modeled this in His prayers, addressing the Father intimately, and He invites us to do the same in John 16:26-27: “In that day you will ask in my name. I am not saying that I will ask the Father on your behalf. No, the Father himself loves you because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God.” See that? No middleman needed beyond Christ’s ongoing mediation, which empowers our direct petitions. This ties into our identity as co-heirs with Christ (Romans 8:17), where all things are ours, including this unfettered communion. It’s about asking for wants and getting them, but it also includes all sorts of benefits, such as constant and direct fellowship, where we abide in Him as branches in the vine (John 15:4-5), drawing life, miracles, prosperity, and every sort of favor, moment by moment.

Hebrews 10:19-22 urges, “Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body… let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings.” The “new and living way” isn’t static; it’s dynamic, sustained by faith that actively receives. Unbelief can hinder this, much like the Israelites who limited God by their grumbling (Psalm 78:41). They had manna from heaven, yet craved Egypt’s leeks—a foolish trade. Similarly, if we doubt our access, we forfeit the peace, power, and provision flowing from God’s throne.

“Beloved, now we are children of God… we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. And everyone who has this hope in Him purifies himself, just as He is pure,” (1 John 3:2-3 NKJV). “Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth. For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is our life…,” (Colossians 3:2-3 NKJV). We draw strength not from self-effort, but from this constant access, where our seated position in Christ refines us by walking in that position when we ask, receive, and praise God. As we see ourselves better as already seated with Jesus, seeing His rich life pouring into us, the more we purify ourselves. The better we see how awesome we are in Christ and walk in that bold access, the more we have power to walk in purity and holiness. People often try to do the opposite of John’s instruction. The order is to first believe who you are, and the proof that you are believing your identity in Christ is if you can boldly ask and receive miracles, and then by doing this you will purify yourself in holiness.

Imagine waking up, not with a list of rituals to “get right with God,” but with the immediate awareness that the throne room doors are swung wide. You pray for healing, and James 5:15 assures, “The prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up.” You seek wisdom, and James 1:5 promises generous provision without reproach. Even in trials, like Peter’s denial followed by restoration (John 21), access remains, because our standing is in Christ’s righteousness, not our performance. The callings and gifts of God are irrevocable. God sees you as already righteous without any sinful markings on your record. And what God thinks is the only thinking that matters. This is irrevocable. Your righteousness record is forever. God thinks you are a royal priesthood, now, not later. God thinks you are seated with His Son in the heavenly places. This is irrevocable. It was based on Jesus’ finished work and given freely to you in grace. It has nothing to do with your performance.

Direct and constant access to God isn’t a theological footnote; it’s the heartbeat of the gospel. It mocks the idea that we need additives to spice up our spirituality, reminding us that Christ is sufficient. As we stand in this grace, let’s live it out with the frank boldness it deserves—no more hiding behind shadows when the Light Himself beckons us near. If we’re not experiencing this daily, perhaps it’s time to examine our faith, repent of unbelief, and step into the throne room. After all, the Father isn’t stingy; He’s extravagantly welcoming, eager for our company. In the words of 1 John 5:14-15, “This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him.” That’s not wishful thinking; that’s gospel power, yours for the taking. Because God sees us as part of His Son, and thinks the blessing of Abraham already applies to us, “what we want” is the threshold that qualifies as “asking according to His will.” The only time what we want is not God’s will is if it violates a specific command or a word of direction the Spirit spoke to us. Thus, we can always ask in confidence knowing, “what we want” is what we get.

 Faith isn’t waiting around for special days or moods; it’s grabbing hold of the promises now, because Jesus is already interceding with all the good stuff He pledged. Think about it: if the early church got tangled in Jewish Sabbaths thinking it helped their standing, aren’t we doing the same with Christmas carols and advent wreaths? It’s like showing up to a feast with your own sack lunch—you miss the bounty because you’re stuck on shadows. And let’s be frank, if your faith needs twinkly lights to sparkle, maybe it’s time to check if the power’s even plugged in. Imagine trading divine Wi-Fi for a holiday dial-up connection—talk about a spiritual lag!

Shadow religion veils the intellectual, spiritual core of Christianity. It’s empiricism in pious drag, basing faith on feelings and festivities rather than revelation. But Jesus’ high priestly role means constant access—no calendar needed. If we’re born from above, we’re insiders in the Father’s house, with rooms prepared. If your Christmas ham tastes better than the bread of life, you’ve got your feasts mixed up. That’s like preferring MRE meal to a gourmet banquet from the King.

Let’s ditch the veils and live in the full benefits that Christ already won for us—bold, direct access, and miracle-ready. To drive it home, consider the ethical fallout: shadow religion dishonors Christ’s sufficiency. As sons, we’re co-heirs with eternal rooms prepared (John 14:2-3), yet holidays suggest that calendars somehow help us sit closer to Jesus in the heavenly places. However, miracles aren’t holiday perks; they’re gospel proofs. If you tie them to Christmas, you’re unbelieving the very good news that sets us free. If you think miracles happen more around Christmas than from a daily prayer spoken in faith, then maybe check who’s really guiding your sled—your flesh or faith? Santa’s list might be naughty or nice, but God’s access is always “yes” in Christ—no reindeer required.

This delusion of seasonal surges stems from defective anthropology, viewing man as sense-bound rather than Spirit-led and word-based. The gospel tells us we are redeemed, righteous, headed to glory, designed for miracles now. Calendars chain us to the old man; faith unleashes the new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17). Feeling closer via festivities? That’s flesh talking, empirical highs mimicking intimacy. Do you feel distant? That is the chill of a religious shadow, exposing your drift from reality. The cure? Deductive faith in Scripture: Jesus’ finished atonement and our current reality seated with Him means miracles come through faith, not calendar dates.

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.]