Tag Archives: faith

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 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.

The Devil Works All Things for Your Bad

Romans 8:28

This isn’t the ear-tickle many folks are after—oh no, they much prefer cherry-picking Romans 8 like it’s a cosmic vending machine: “God works all things for your good.” They sling it around like fatalists at a blame-dodging convention, faithless folks shrugging off responsibility faster than they can say, “did God really say?”

In the trusty grip of a true believer, this verse is pure gold— a rock-solid anchor showing God’s sovereignty flexing its muscles through grace to shower blessings automatically. It unfolds in a few proven ways. One, is our identity in Christ and His finished work (you know, the plot twist where the hero already wins). That’s the doctrine we geek out over here, aptly dubbed “You Already Got It.” Another is the autopilot perks of God’s goodness raining down, no strings attached because of our new creation already being reality, and because we are sons of Abraham’s blessing (Galatians 3, Luke 13:10-17). Thus, even when we’re fumbling the ball—imperfect, half-hearted, or binge-watching instead of Bible-studying—He keeps those sweet promises and covenant goodies flowing like a divine subscription we didn’t earn.

That said, the faithless take this verse and wreck it: They twist this gem into a get-out-of-jail-free card, or worse, snooze through the fine print that not every blessing hits the auto-apply button. Spoiler: Many promises and benefits require us to use our faith.

There are many blessings of our Christianity that come automatically, but others only come by active faith in God’s promises. It is the difference between a partial victory and a full victory. Full victories happen when we apply our faith to specific promises and these get piled on top of the automatic ones God is always working in us.

Folks love to trot out Romans 8:28 like it’s a get-out-of-jail-free card for every mess life throws at them. “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” They quote it with a shrug, as if God’s sovereignty means we just sit back and let the chips fall—good or bad; I mean, it’s all part of the plan, right? But that’s fatalism dressed up in Bible verses, a lazy dodge that shirks responsibility and starves faith. It’s not what Paul meant, and it’s sure not how Scripture paints the picture. The truth? The devil is out there working all things for your bad, stealing, killing, and destroying like the thief he is (John 10:10). God flips the script for His elect, but only when we grab hold by faith, resisting Satan and boldly claiming what’s ours. Ignore that, and you’re not just missing out—you’re complicit in the enemy’s playbook.

Let’s start with the basics, straight from God’s Word. Paul doesn’t toss Romans 8:28 into a vacuum; he builds it on the rock of God’s decrees for His chosen ones. As I lay out in Systematic Theology: 2025, “Take for example when Paul says in Romans 8 ‘He works all things for our good.’ God plans for a big good, and so He creates (and causes) temporary evil for the Elect to overcome, and then by this receive this big good. This can be seen in the story of Joseph. What they meant for evil, God meant it for good. This only applies to God’s elect” (p. 114). See that? It’s not a blanket promise for anyone breathing; it’s laser-focused on those God foreloved, predestined, called, justified, and glorified in that unbreakable chain (Romans 8:29-30). God’s working all for good isn’t automatic like gravity—it’s sovereign grace unleashed through faith, turning Satan’s schemes into stepping stones.

But here’s where the rubber meets the road, and where so many faith-fumblers veer off into the ditch. Satan doesn’t twiddle his thumbs while God orchestrates. No, he’s proactive, a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour (1 Peter 5:8). Sickness? Poverty? Broken relationships? That’s his handiwork, not some divine mystery. Take healing, for instance. In Acts 10:38, Peter nails it: Jesus “went around doing good and healing all who were under the power of the devil, because God was with him.” Sickness isn’t God’s autograph—it’s Satan’s graffiti on your life. Sickness Is Satan’s Glory, Not God’s. The Bible has no issue saying sickness isn’t from God; it is from Satan or the curse. This matters because if we think sickness comes from God, we won’t fight it. That is one reason Jesus battled sickness so hard while tradition doesn’t. Jesus saw sickness as Satan’s direct attack on Him, His Father, and His people. So, He smashed it wherever He found it. Sickness is Satan flipping the bird at Jesus’ atonement. Healing is Jesus slamming His fist into Satan’s face, again and again. There’s a real war here.

Think about it: if a sick person in Jesus’ crowd stayed back, nursing unbelief instead of pressing in by faith, was God “working all for good” or was Satan working all things for their misery? If you can’t tell the different, you are not one team Jesus. That was Satan working all for bad, oppressing them unchecked. The woman with the issue of blood didn’t get her miracle by quoting Romans 8:25 and waiting passively for the mysterious will of God, to show up in her life. No. She stretched her faith like a lifeline, grabbing Jesus’ hem (Mark 5:25-34). Faith activates God’s good; unbelief lets Satan run roughshod. I’ve seen it play out too many times: Christians limp along with ailments, chalking it up to “God’s will,” when Scripture screams otherwise. Isaiah 53:4-5, Matthew 8:17—Jesus bore our sicknesses on the cross, just like our sins. To call disease divine is to blur Jesus and Satan, like mistaking the Shepherd for the wolf in a police lineup. And folks who can’t tell the difference want to lecture on theology? That’s rich, like a blind man critiquing Picasso.

This isn’t just about healing; it’s the whole kit and caboodle. Poverty? Satan loves keeping you scraping by, but God promises abundance through faith in His covenant (Deuteronomy 28:1-14, Galatians 3:14). Broken relationships? The enemy sows discord, but faith claims reconciliation and peace (Ephesians 2:14-16). Lack in any area? It’s the devil grinding you down, but God’s working for good kicks in when you repent of unbelief and ask boldly. Peter includes healing in Jesus’ “doing good” (Acts 10:38). Yet unbelievers redefine God’s goodness as handing out cancer then forcing Romans 8:28 down your throat. Why does their definition of God sound like Satan; why does it sound like paganism? Pagan gods are fickle; our God is faithful to His promises when we believe.

Paul’s golden chain in Romans 8 isn’t a passive conveyor belt—it’s a call to live in the reality of God’s decrees. “And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified” (Romans 8:30). This sorites shows the certainty. The conclusion is: ‘All those God foreloves are those He glorifies. God’s direct and absolute sovereignty is Christian reality and causality. But on the human level, where we live and fight, faith is the key that unlocks it. Without it, you’re letting Satan work overtime for your bad. James 4:7: “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” Resistance isn’t optional—it’s commanded. And how do you resist? By faith alone, speaking to mountains, commanding demons, claiming healing (Mark 11:23, James 5:15).

God’s sovereignty undergirds it all. Even temporary evils, like Joseph’s betrayal, God means for good (Genesis 50:20). But that’s no excuse to wallow. Faith turns the tide. When you ask for healing, and God heals your cancer, this healing makes you stronger than ever: you grow stronger in your inner man, mature as a Christian, and get more complete with God’s fullness.  Receiving by faith—miracles, provision, breakthroughs—that’s experiencing God’s love poured out (Romans 5:5), and it grows the inner man. It’s not arrogance; it’s agreement with His Word. Vincent Cheung, puts it sharp: mature doctrine is “not what we do for God, but what God does for us” (from his essay “What Is Mature Doctrine”).

Imagine standing in the crowd as Jesus passes by, your body wracked with some chronic ailment that’s drained your strength and hope for years. You’ve heard the stories of His power, yet there you linger at the edges, too timid or doubtful to push forward and claim what’s yours. In that moment, calling your suffering “God working all things for your good” is a flat-out misrepresentation, like confusing a thief’s raid with a father’s provision. No, that’s Satan grinding away at you, stealing your vitality and joy while you stand idle, essentially handing him the reins. Romans 8:28 isn’t a passive blanket over every hardship; it’s God’s sovereign promise activated in the lives of those who love Him through bold action. But if you hang back, refusing to stretch your faith like the woman who grabbed the hem of Jesus’ robe in faith, you’re willingly aligning with the devil’s agenda—letting oppression linger when deliverance is within reach. It’s as if you’re at a banquet, starving because you won’t pick up the fork, all while blaming the host for your hunger, saying, “my host is working all my hunger for my good.” No, that’s just you being stupid and hypocritical.

The instant you shatter that unbelief and cry out in faith for healing, that’s when Jesus steps in to rework that slice of your existence for your ultimate good, much like how salvation dawns only upon repentance, ushering in those refreshing times Peter preached about in Acts 3:19. On our human level, where God engages us relationally, many facets of His benevolent orchestration remain unmoved until we exercise faith—stretching it out, as that bleeding woman did amid the throng, her touch drawing power from Him and turning her torment into God’s testimony (Mark 5:25-34). It’s not that God’s power is stingy; it’s that He’s predestined it this way, honoring faith by giving us the world. Think of forgiveness: the cross already paid the price, but the “working for good” ignites when you confess and receive. So, don’t just quote Romans 8 like a talisman against trouble; live it by resisting Satan fiercely, claiming healing as your inheritance, and watching how faith transforms the devil’s bad intentions into God’s brilliant turnaround—like turning a battlefield rout into a victory parade, with a wink from heaven saying, “See what happens when you believe?”

If there is part of your life you have lived in unbelief for 30 years, then it’s 30 years wasted in the area. We must be honest about that. But once you turn your faith to God to receive purchased gospel blessings and miracles, then at that point God begins to work it for your good, in 100-fold. Sure, even in your lack of knowledge and unbelief, God’s grace still kept you from much harm that you didn’t even see, and helped you in ways you did not notice, but you will not fully experience God working all things for your good until you stop the unbelief and have faith for miracles.

Picture this: Jesus, our ultimate High Priest, locked Himself into an unbreakable covenant with us—a divine deal sealed in the blood of His gospel, doling out every last goodie it promises. That’s His lane, His unbreakable priesthood. He shows up exclusively as the ultimate Good News Delivery Guy, not some cosmic prankster promising healing but sneaking in cancer in the backdoor.

Sickness? Nah, that’s not in His portfolio: it’s not his ministry, it’s not part of His contract with us. That’s Satan’s shady side-hustle, his knockoff priesthood peddling misery like bad infomercials. If you’re gunning for that Romans 8 remix—”all things working for your good”—you’ve gotta strut up to your High Priest with the confidence of a kid raiding the cookie jar. Boldly claim those promises: ask big, receive huge. Skip that step? Congrats, you’re handing Satan the reins on the sickness parade, the poverty pity party, the relationship trainwrecks, and the “why me?” lack attacks. And labeling that mess God’s handiwork. That’s like accidentally calling Jesus “Satan” at a family reunion. Face-slap city.

Want the full God-orchestrated glow-up? Then resist Satan like your life depends on it, because it does. Step up in faith, swing for the fences with audacious asks, and watch supernatural miracles rain down like confetti at a victory bash. No detours, no Plan B hacks. But hey, why chase shortcuts when this is the VIP route? God’s blueprint; its the one where faith alone hands you the keys to the kingdom, the Spirit’s turbo boost, and a lifetime supply of every good thing. All of it? Working overtime for your epic win, in every plot twist of your story.

Why settle for another way? This is God’s way—the good way, where by faith alone you possess the world, the Spirit, and all good things, with every part of life worked for your ultimate victory. Satan plots your downfall, but faith lets God rewrite the story. Choose faith, and watch the devil’s bad become God’s grand slam. After all, if God’s for us, who can be against us? (Romans 8:31).

Grace Didn’t Striptease Me With Future Hope

Ah, that quote from John Newton—it’s got some truth in it, no denying that, but brother, it’s like he’s staring at the rearview mirror while the glory train is blasting full speed ahead.

“I am not what I ought to be, I am not what I want to be, I am not what I hope to be in another world; but still I am not what I once used to be, and by the grace of God I am what I am.”

Newton, the old slave trader turned grace-singer, he’s got the humility angle down real, real, real hard. And yes, acknowledging the past mess isn’t wrong, because Scripture tells us to remember where we came from, like Israel recalling Egypt (Deuteronomy 8:2). But here’s the thunderclap: he’s emphasizing the wrong thing. All that “not what I ought, not what I want, not what I hope” drags the soul into a worm-theology pit, focusing on lacks and longs when the New Covenant screams present reality: righteousness, power, miracles, and victory in Christ, right here, right now. Saints, we’re not stumbling in “not yets”; we are already seated with Him in heavenly places (Ephesians 2:6), reigning in life through Jesus (Romans 5:17). G Grace doesn’t just forgive the past, it explodes into now with kingdom dynamite.

First, let’s hit that “I am not what I ought to be.” Newton’s tipping his hat to the ongoing battle, the flesh warring against the spirit (Galatians 5:17), and sure, sanctification’s progressive—we’re working out what God’s worked in (Philippians 2:12-13). Hebrews 10 says God is sanctifying those He has already perfected. Thus,  emphasizing the “not ought” like it’s the headline? That’s missing the plot. The “ought” is already yours positionally in Christ. You’re the righteousness of God in Him (2 Corinthians 5:21), holy and blameless in His sight (Colossians 1:22).

Salvation is not just ethics or future pie-in-the-sky; it’s reality now. God recreated you a new species, a prince of heaven, with diplomatic immunity under the New Covenant (Hebrews 8:8-13). Sickness? Poverty? Defeat? Those are Satan’s ministry and lies. Jesus became sin, sickness, and curse so you could be righteous, healed, and blessed (Galatians 3:13-14; Isaiah 53:4-5). I remember my own pit—depression choking me like a python, suicidal whispers in the night. But the Spirit hit me: “You are a child of God; these things fear you, not the other way around!” And Boom, I received instant healing, and I started declaring promises over “my observations.” This is the Christian ethic, declaring the promises of God and receiving the: not groveling in weakness, but bulldozing Satan’s works with faith confessions. Newton glances at the past change, but he fumbles the lead. Grace makes you what you ought right now, not in some hazy future.

Then there’s “I am not what I want to be.” This one stings if you let it, because who hasn’t wanted more—more faith, more victory? Paul wanted the thorn gone (2 Corinthians 12:7-9), (false super-apostles) but God’s grace was sufficient, turning weakness into power showcase. But again, Newton’s emphasis skews wrong, fixating on the gap when the want is already met in Christ. What do you want? Healing? Prosperity? Power? The covenant guarantees it, because Jesus’ blood activated the last will and testament, depositing Abraham’s blessings into your account (Galatians 3:14; 2 Corinthians 8:9). In systematic theology, I call it over-engineering: grace doesn’t just meet needs; it overflows with miracles. Praying in tongues? That’s the cheat code, building you up (1 Corinthians 14:4), keeping you in love (Jude 1:20-21), and unlocking your wants served on a gold platter. I was a smoldering wick once, wanting joy but drowning in despair. But one-on-one ministry with the Spirit, by praying in tongues and naming-it-claiming-it, and suddenly wants aligned with reality and peace like a river flowed (Mark 11:23). Newton nods to grace making him “what I am,” but he downplays the now. All promises are yes in Christ (2 Corinthians 1:20). Don’t confess lacks; confess all the blessing already yours in Jesus. Sickness knocking? “By His stripes, I am healed!” Poverty lurking? “My God supplies all needs!” That’s the want fulfilled, here and now, not a wish list for glory.

And “I am not what I hope to be in another world.” Here’s where Newton really tips the scale wrong, shoving hope into eschatology like the best is postmortem. Sure, we groan for the resurrection body (Romans 8:23), seeing Him as He is (1 John 3:2). But eschatology is not escapism, it’s expansionism! Jesus is reigning from the throne now, and we’re co-heirs, enforcing His victory (Ephesians 1:19-23). A.D. 70 judgments are past, and Satan’s final smackdown is decreed; but the kingdom’s advancing today through miracles, healings, and power. Hope is not deferred; it’s applied throne-room access. Newton hopes for another world, but Scripture says the world to come is subjected to us now (Hebrews 2:5-8, Eph. 1:19-23, Mark 11:23). What about Miracles? Jesus tells us to prove ourselves His by asking for miracles and getting them (John 15:7-8). I’ve seen sickness flee and fears shatter when I declare faith in His promises. What about tongues and prophecy? Available to those with faith. Don’t park hope in heaven; plant hope for good things down here. God’s power delivered me from demonic terror. Grace didn’t striptease me with future hope; it slammed a victory for me now. Newton’s emphasis delays the party, and that is wrong. Hope does not bring shame because God’s love has already been poured out now (Romans 5:5).

Now, the pivot Newton makes—”still I am not what I once used to be.” This is correct as far as it goes; the past-to-present shift, and it’s not wrong to state it. Remembering the old man keeps gratitude flowing, like Paul recounting his blasphemer days (1 Timothy 1:13-15). Newton went from chains to “Amazing Grace”; I went from wreck to warrior. But even here, don’t linger! The past is crucified (Galatians 2:20). Only God’s thoughts about reality matter, and God thinks my old man is dead. Who am, I that I should disagree with God? We are to focus on the new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17). What about sin’s power? It is Broken. Sickness? It has been crushed at the cross (Matthew 8:16-17). Newton’s right: by grace, we are what we are. But grace isn’t a pat on the back; it’s covenant firepower, sovereign favor molding us into overcomers (Romans 8:37). God boasts about us when faith shines (Hebrews 11), not when we mope in “nots.”

It’s not wrong to nod at the past mess or ongoing chisel, but what about the emphasis? Slam it on present glory. Righteousness: yours now, credited fully. Power: the same power that raised Christ, surging in you (Ephesians 1:19). Miracles? They are normal, commanded by faith. Heal the sick, cast out demons (Mark 16:17-18). Victory? It is both your definition and command to reign in life; dominating circumstances, time, reality. No more worm theology; you are a superior species, a child of God, with bold throne-room access (Hebrews 4:16). Pray in tongues and declare His promises, and by this, let the Spirit minister to you, one-on-one. Newton saw grace change him, but he underplayed the explosion. It is now, by grace. What are you now? Victorious, powerful, miraculous. This is the bible’s focus, and so it will also be ours.

Grief as Doubt: A Fraudulent Theology of Unbelief

August 30, 2025

The post in question, titled “WHY IS GOD SILENT IN MY GRIEF?” spins a tale of a man’s tragic loss—his pregnant wife killed in a hit-and-run—and uses it as a springboard to normalize doubt, questioning, and feelings of abandonment as natural, even biblical, responses to grief. It cites David’s lament in Psalm 10:1, Job’s weeping, and even Jesus’ cry on the cross to suggest that grief “makes you question. It makes you doubt God’s love. It makes you feel abandoned.” Then it pivots to consolations like Psalm 34:18 and Hebrews 13:5, attributing the pain to Satan’s schemes while urging the reader to “let God in” and “hold His hand” through the “valley of sorrow.” This is presented as compassionate Christian teaching, but it’s a manipulative scam, rooted in emotionalism and unbelief. It’s autobiographical projection: just because grief shattered this writer’s faith doesn’t mean it shatters mine—or yours—and it certainly doesn’t mean the Bible endorses such weakness as inevitable or virtuous.

This theology is fraudulent because it elevates human experience over God’s revelation, turning grief into a license for unbelief. The post assumes that because one man “ran mad instantly” and his “mind broke,” this is the universal believer’s fate in loss. But that’s not Scripture; that’s superstition. Maxim 1: God is the foundation for theology, not man. If we start with man’s broken emotions as the norm, we end up with a defective worldview that glorifies doubt as a spiritual badge. The Bible doesn’t normalize grief-induced questioning as acceptable; it condemns it as sin. Faith, not feelings, is the command. Jesus didn’t say, “Grief makes you doubt—embrace it.” He said, “Have faith in God” (Mark 11:22). Jesus told Jairus to “not Fear,” but “only believe.” After telling the disciples about His death, Jesus said, “do you let your hearts be trouble,” and to “cheer up.” Doubt isn’t a phase; it’s disobedience.

Look at the Scriptures twisted here. David cries in Psalm 10:1, “Why, Lord, do you stand far off?” But the post ignores the resolution: David’s psalms end in triumph, affirming God’s deliverance (Psalm 10:16-18).  David wasn’t modeling perpetual doubt; he was venting in a pre-resurrection era, before the full light of Christ’s victory. We live under the New Covenant, where the Spirit empowers us to claim joy and restoration now. To wallow in David’s momentary cry is to reject the gospel’s greater revelation. However, David said God delivers him from all his troubles, heals all his sickness, and prospers him. David was not a model of perpetual grief; his psalms often resolve in praise and confidence in God’s deliverance.

Job weeps in ashes after losing everything (Job 1:20-22), but the book isn’t a grief manual—it’s a revelation of God’s sovereignty being used to bless Job with double wealth and double health, in this life, not just the next. Job repents of his foolish questions (Job 42:1-6) and receives double back, not because he endured scars piously, but because he acknowledged God in truthfulness. The post’s “scars that no man can see” sentiment is humanistic drivel; Scripture promises healing for the brokenhearted, not eternal emotional wounds. The bibles says we have a sound mind full of peace and joy by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Even Jesus’ cry, “My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Matthew 27:46), is abused to justify doubt. This wasn’t abandonment or questioning God’s love—it was fulfillment of Psalm 22, declaring the Messiah’s sin-bearing agony. Jesus bore our forsakenness so we wouldn’t have to. Think about that. Jesus bore our anguish, so we do not bear it in our minds. To equate our grief-doubts with Christ’s redemptive suffering is blasphemous, reducing the atonement to therapy for feelings. The post says, “Grief makes you doubt God’s love”—but that’s not biblical; that’s projection. Maxim 18: Jesus is the most God-centered man who ever lived. He marveled at faith, not doubt or good behavior. If grief “makes” you doubt, it’s because your faith was defective to begin with, rooted in emotions, not God’s Word.

This manipulation is autobiographical because the writer assumes his breakdown is everyone’s. “Many believers never remain the same after the passing of their loved ones.” Speak for yourself. I’ve lost my identical twin brother Joshua, as I dedicated my Systematic Theology to him. Did grief make me question God’s love? No. It drove me deeper into faith, affirming God’s sovereignty and promises. Maxim 2: God is absolutely and directly sovereign over all things, including knowledge, man, and salvation. God ordained the loss in the ultimate sense, but He relates to me on the relative level. He relates to me based on His finished atonement, established Contract and freely given promises to bless me, and give me abundant life (John 10:10). Satan steals and destroys. Satan is bad. God is good. The solution is not to feel abandoned but to exercise authority over Satan through faith. To feel “abandoned” is to ignore Hebrews 13:5, not because God is silent, but because you’ve plugged your ears with unbelief. God isn’t silent; He’s spoken in Scripture, the self-authenticating starting point. If you perceive silence, it means you are carnal and not spiritual: You are relating to God based on carnality or by sight and not by faith and the Spirit.  

The consolations are half-truths laced with sentimentality. Psalm 34:18: “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” This promises salvation from brokenness, not companionship in it. This verse promises salvation from crushed spirits, not perpetual companionship in them. God does not weep with you in some empathetic solidarity; He commands you to rejoice in His deliverance. God doesn’t “weep with you” in empathetic weakness—He takes the suffering away and replaces it with blessings. God’s power and love cannot be divided like a man. God’s love and power means He makes the bad things go away. The idea of God as a hand-holding therapist through the “valley of sorrow” reduces Him to a humanistic crutch, as mere human ability. All things are possible for God. But all things are possible for people with faith. Faith claims victory: “I will not die but live, and will proclaim what the Lord has done” (Psalm 118:17).

Revelation 21:4’s tear-wiping is eschatological, but faith tastes it now—no more mourning through the atonement. “There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain”—refers to the eschatological consummation, but through faith, we taste this victory now. God is not waiting to walk you through pain; He has already provided the way out through faith in His Word.

Satan uses grief to break you? True, but the solution isn’t shutting God out—it’s unbelief that does that. The post urges, “Let God in. Don’t shut Him out.” But if you’re doubting, you’ve already shut Him out by rejecting His Word. Maxim 16: Reprobates who resist faith on demand for healing and blessings have sided with demons to trample the blood of Christ. This theology conspires against the gospel, glorifying emotional scars over faith’s triumph. It glorifies man as stronger than God, stronger than the Word, and stronger than the Spirit.

Reject this fraud. Grief doesn’t “make” you doubt unless you let it. Maxim 17: Faith will always move mountains, real ones. By faith, reality obeys you. By faith, you save yourself from grief’s madness. Confess God’s promises: comfort, restoration, joy. My brother’s death didn’t break me; it fueled my theology, pouring faith into pages so no one leaves before their time. Don’t normalize doubt—it’s unbelief. Stand on Scripture: God is sovereign, faith conquers. You being victorious over grief glorifies God, not your “scars.”

Maxim 14: Reprobates focus on men. Christians focus on God. Focus on Christ: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). Claim it by faith. No valley is too deep for mountain-moving belief. Faith is not an emotional state but a firm intellectual assent to God’s promises, confessed boldly regardless of circumstances.

The post ends with a link to “Christian Legacy Teachings,” but if this is their legacy, it is one of defeat, not the triumphant inheritance of the saints.

In a nutshell: Grief ain’t your faith’s kryptonite unless you hand over the cape. The post’s pity party is just emotional bait—don’t bite. God’s Word says faith flips the script on sorrow, turning tears into triumphs. Doubt? That’s unbelief’s autograph. Grab your faith hammer and smash those “scars”—because in God’s kingdom, victory’s the only scar that sticks.

Prosperity: God’s Big Idea

By Oshea Davis 

29, 2025 

Today, let’s start with the prayer of Jabez in 1 Chronicles 4:10: “Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, ‘Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.’ And God granted his request” (NIV). 

Boom—God didn’t rebuke Jabez for asking big; He answered yes. Prosperity isn’t a side hustle; it’s God’s original blueprint, lost in sin, partially restored to Abraham, and fully unleashed in Jesus. And get this: It’s yours by faith, in ways that make reprobates squirm. 

First off, prosperity was God’s idea from the jump—Creation itself screams abundance. Genesis 1:1 kicks off with God crafting a universe teeming with riches: gold in Havilah (Genesis 2:12), fruitful trees, rivers flowing, animals multiplying. He didn’t make a barren wasteland; He engineered a paradise of plenty. He called this overabundance “Good,” and so lack and poverty are “bad.” God didn’t design scarcity and then call it good. No, prosperity reflects His nature—generous, overflowing, unstoppable. He spoke, and wealth materialized: stars for navigation, soil for crops, seas for trade. Creation wasn’t neutral; it was loaded with provision, a divine trust fund for humanity. God likes big—big universes, big blessings, big faith. If you’re thinking small, that’s your human empiricism talking, not God’s Word. 

Enter Adam: God handed him the keys to this prosperous kingdom. Genesis 1:28: “God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.'” Dominion! Adam wasn’t scratching for scraps; he ruled a garden where “gold… and onyx” abounded (Genesis 2:11-12), food grew effortlessly, and work was stewardship, not toil. The Garden was not Adam working to get rich; rather, it was God making Adam rich and then Adam managing this wealth. Eden defines prosperity mainly and directly as very material. However, there are other blessings involved such as authority, relational harmony, physical health. Adam walked with God in opulence, no lack, no limits. This was the original deal: Man as God’s image-bearer, prospering in every sphere because God supplied it all (as per Maxim 13: “God’s unmerited favor supplies man, man does not supply God”). But reprobates twist this, saying wealth corrupts. Nonsense—Adam’s prosperity was pure until sin crashed the party. 

Ah, the Fall—where prosperity got hijacked. Genesis 3:17-19: Cursed ground, thorns, sweat for bread. Adam’s rebellion didn’t just bring spiritual death; it unleashed poverty, sickness, and struggle. The abundant earth turned hostile, mirroring man’s death. Sin didn’t erase God’s prosperous design; it veiled it under a curse. Humanity toiled in lack, empires rose on exploitation, and scarcity became the norm in many places. But here’s the kicker: Even in judgment, God hinted at restoration (Genesis 3:15). Prosperity wasn’t revoked forever; it was postponed for the faithful. Those who peddle “poverty vows” as holiness? They’re glorifying the curse, siding with Satan—the ultimate thief who comes to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10). Defective ethics at its worst. 

Then God kickstarts the comeback with Abraham. Genesis 12:2-3: “I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing… and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.” Abraham wasn’t some ascetic monk; he got filthy rich—livestock, silver, gold, king’s ransoms (Genesis 13:2). Why? Faith. He believed God’s promise, and prosperity flowed: land enlargements, victories over kings, supernatural favor. This was a substantial and multifaceted prosperity restoration, even if it wasn’t perfected heaven itself. Thus, even when Abraham faced famines and foes, he still came out victorious and rich. This fallen world, with all its curses and problems, kneeled under the boot of Abraham’s blessing to be prosperous. What God promised Abraham was a down payment, bypassing the curse. Galatians 3:14 calls it “the blessing of Abraham,” including the Spirit and miracles, but don’t sleep on the wealth: Deuteronomy 8:18 echoes it, “It is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth.” God began reversing Adam’s loss through covenant faith, proving prosperity honors Him when rooted in faith. Reprobates who bash “prosperity gospel”? They’re blind to this—Abraham’s blessing was God’s wealth transfer program, started with one man in faith, but completely fulfilled in Christ. 

Fast-forward to Jesus: Full restoration, no holds barred. Galatians 3:13-14: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us… so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit.” And that promise? Abraham’s blessing, but amplified through Jesus. Jesus became poor so we could become rich (2 Corinthians 8:9). The context is not spiritual wealth, but filthy money and material riches. He ministered wealth as part of His high-priest gig: righteousness, wealth, and healing. Only God’s thoughts matter. In the mind of God, He thinks the atonement swapped our poverty for Jesus’ riches, our sickness for health, our curse for blessing. Post-resurrection, we’re new creations (2 Corinthians 5:17), seated with Him above lack (Ephesians 2:6). Our Maxim 12 roars: “They financially prosper and are healed by faith in the gospel of Jesus.” In Christ, prosperity isn’t optional—it’s inheritance. Doubt it? You’re limiting God (Psalm 78:41), confessing empiricism instead of God’s word. 

Now, how does God grant this prosperity by faith? Not some cookie-cutter formula but simply believing His Word. First, direct asking in Jesus’ name—John 16:23: “My Father will give you whatever you ask in my name.” Jabez-style: “Enlarge my borders!” Faith confession moves mountains (Mark 11:23), including financial ones. Speak wealth into existence, because reality obeys faith. Second, through wisdom and favor—Proverbs 8:18: “With me are riches and honor.” God gives ideas, opportunities, divine connections (like Abraham’s alliances). Third, sowing and reaping—2 Corinthians 9:6-8: Generous giving multiplies back, not as works, but by God’s promise received by faith. Fourth, miraculous provision—Matthew 17:27: Fish with coins? Why not? It’s available to faith. Agree that God is correct. Assent to God’s promises, act on them, and watch. But beware—unbelief blocks it, like the Israelites’ evil report. Defective faith-fumblers say, “Prosperity’s not for today.” Wrong! It’s for insiders, co-heirs who boldly approach the throne (Hebrews 4:16). If they choose to not see themselves as insiders and not boldly approach and receive, then they must hate their lives. Why join the dead? Why join with the faithless? Why join those who toss away their own lives as trash? 

Reprobates focus on men; but the faithful focus on God (Maxim 14). Chase Him, and wealth chases you. If you are chasing God without healing and prosperity and blessings chasing you, then it means you are chasing God while you disbelieve Him. This is the sad and degrading life of the faithless. Chasing something they hate and distrust. 

In sum, prosperity’s God’s brainchild from Creation, gifted to Adam, snatched by sin, rebooted with Abraham, and maxed out in Christ. Jabez nailed it—ask big, get big. If you’re not prospering, check your faith, not God’s will (see Maxim 19: “God’s Word is His will”). Prosperity is God’s idea, from creation to Abraham and finally in Jesus. When you pray for prosperity you are not asking a reluctant God. You are agreeing with God and receiving what He has already provided. “You have given me wealth in Abraham’s blessing and in Your Son’s atonement, and I agree with you. You are correct. I thank you for prosperity and receive it through the unmerited favor you gave it in.”

Identified with the Resurrected Christ, Not the Earthly Jesus

Posted: August 25, 2025 

I want to hammer home a truth from 2 Corinthians 5:16-17 on how we see ourselves in Christ. Paul writes: “So we have stopped evaluating others from a human point of view. At one time we thought of Christ merely from a human point of view. How differently we know him now! This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!” (NLT).

The big idea: Our new creation in Christ isn’t modeled after the Jesus who walked the dusty roads of Galilee, healing the sick and casting out demons as a man under the law. This would be an amazing thing, but the point Paul is making is greater. No, that’s the “human point of view” Paul warns against—the old way of thinking that limits God and shackles your faith. Our identity is fused with the resurrected Christ, the exalted King seated at the right hand of Power. We’re not mimicking the pre-cross Jesus; we’re embodying the post-resurrection Lord. This isn’t some fluffy spiritual metaphor—it’s the explosive reality that unleashes miracles, crushes mountains, and makes “all things possible” a daily command, not a distant dream. And hey, if faith can move mountains, imagine what it does to your Monday morning coffee slump?

Let’s break this down biblically, because human speculation is just satanic superstition dressed up in theological jargon. Paul says we once viewed Christ “from a human point of view.” Think about it: During His earthly ministry, Jesus operated as a man—fully God, yes, but voluntarily limited, born under the law (Galatians 4:4), baptized in the Spirit for power (Luke 3:22, 4:1), and doing the Father’s works through that anointing (John 14:10). He was the forerunner, showing us how a Spirit-empowered human crushes the devil’s works. But that was the old covenant shadow. Post-resurrection? Jesus ascends, pours out the same Spirit on us (Acts 2:33), and now sits enthroned, far above all rule and authority (Ephesians 1:20-21). That’s the Christ we know now—the victorious, glorified One whose name we wield like a divine sledgehammer. Swing it wisely, folks; for Paul tells us, with great power should come great love.

Your new creation isn’t a refurbished version of your old self; it’s a total reboot, a supernatural species upgrade. “The old life is gone; a new life has begun!” Paul shouts. And this new life isn’t tethered to the earthly Jesus—it’s identified with the heavenly One. Colossians 3:1-3 nails it: “Since you have been raised to new life with Christ, set your sights on the realities of heaven, where Christ sits in the place of honor at God’s right hand. Think about the things of heaven, not the things of earth. For you died to this life, and your real life is hidden with Christ in God.” Raised with Him? Seated with Him? That’s not poetry; that’s positional truth. God sees you already enthroned above every principality, every sickness, every mountain-sized obstacle. Ephesians 2:6 doubles down: “For he raised us from the dead along with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms because we are united with Christ Jesus.”

Reprobate theologians—those faith-fumblers who peddle unbelief—love to drag us back to a “human point of view.” They say, “Well, that was Jesus; we’re just sinners saved by grace, limping along until heaven.” That’s defective metaphysics, limiting the Holy One of Israel. If we’re seated with the resurrected Christ, our identity is His identity. We are not identified in irrational ways like eternality, infinity, and immutability, because by definition we cannot. However, we’re co-heirs (Romans 8:17), joint-partakers in His divine nature (2 Peter 1:4), and authorized to use His name as if we were Him. Jesus didn’t say, “Ask in My name, but only for small stuff because you’re not Me.” No! In John 14:12-14, He promises: “Anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works… You can ask for anything in my name, and I will do it.” Why? Because using Jesus’ name by faith isn’t cosplay—it’s identification so profound that your request is as if Jesus Himself spoke it. The sovereign God has decided that when you ask for something in Jesus’ Name, it is as if Jesus asked Him directly. God always hears and gives the Son what He asks for, and God has decided to do the same for us when we ask; He did this because God decided to make Jesus’ identity our identity. God decided to do this because He is sovereign and because He wanted to do it, and because He loves you.

The power is ultimately God’s and not that we have inherent power in ourselves, or in our words. However, with that being said, our identification is so substantially and relationally integrated in God’s sovereign thoughts about us that when we command something in faith, it happens. My body does not have inherent power to move, except by the power of God, even when I am typing this essay. However, God has made my body and thoughts so identified together in a relational sense that I consider my body as my own and I naturally move my fingers to type as I want. This is the same reality we now have in our identity with the resurrected Jesus. The power, authority, rich inheritance, and name of Jesus are so integrated with me in the relational sense that when I pray, stuff happens, and mountains move at the sound of my voice. Talk about a voice-activated universe—Siri’s got nothing on this!

God did all this to give us unshakable confidence to ask and receive, by showing us how intellectually, relationally, and ontologically we are identified with Jesus. However, all this is overlooking what Jesus said in John 16 by saying, in that day, I will not even ask on our behalf, because the Father loves you. As if you don’t even need a mediator, because God loves you so much—or better said, the Father loves you so much that He has already made mediation happen and be so complete that you can ask Him directly. As natural as it is for Jesus to be in His own throne room and walk around is the same degree it is for me to walk boldly in God’s throne room and walk around, because I have been so deeply identified with Jesus. This is how the sovereign God thinks about me. And only His thoughts and choices matter.

Maxim 12 from my book rings true here: “God’s gospel is a total salvation. God saves. His chosen ones are clean, righteous, co-heirs with Christ and have the Mind of Christ. They will judge the world and angels; they inherit the world. All things are theirs.” All things! That’s not hyperbole; that’s gospel fact. When you pray in Jesus’ name, commanding a mountain to move (Mark 11:23), it’s the resurrected Christ—seated above all—backing you up. Your faith confession isn’t a beggar’s plea; it’s a king’s decree. Why? Because you’re so united with Him that God hears your voice as His. “By faith” isn’t a caveat—it’s the ignition key. Faith assents to God’s definition of reality: You’re not the old you; you’re the new creation, exalted with Christ.

But here’s where the rubber meets the road—and where defective ethics creeps in. If you evaluate yourself from a “human point of view,” you’ll limit God. You’ll say, “Healing? Miracles? That’s only for Jesus’ earthly ministry, not me.” Wrong! That mindset dishonors the resurrection. Jesus’ ascension and enthronement amplify our authority, not diminish it. In His earthly ministry, He was one man in one place; now, through His body—the church—He’s multiplying miracles worldwide. As great as it would be, to be identified with Jesus’, under the law, in His earthly miracle ministry, it is still a limitation, because what we have is greater.  This is why Jesus promised we would do Greater works! If you doubt that, you’re siding with the faithless, those who trample the blood of Christ by rejecting the full scope of our new creation.

Remember the Israelites? They limited God by unbelief (Psalm 78:41), confessing giants instead of confessing confidence in God’s promise. We’re worse if we do that now—post-resurrection, post-Pentecost. Colossians 3 urges us to “set your minds on things above,” because that’s where our life is hidden. Faith to move mountains? It’s yours because you’re seated above them. Command demons? Absolutely, for you’re far above all powers. Ask for the desires of your heart? Yes, because the Father loves you as He loves Jesus (John 17:23), and your requests in His name glorify the exalted Christ and Himself.

In my book, I dedicate a chunk to ethics: “You Are the Promises of God.” That’s you—new creation, promise-embodied. Don’t evaluate Christ or yourself from a human viewpoint anymore. Know Him as the resurrected King, and know yourself as seated with Him. Faith unleashes God. Faith unleashes your identity in Jesus. Faith unleashes this: Speak to the storm, the sickness, the lack—in Jesus’ name—and watch reality bow. It’s not arrogance; it’s obedience to our new identity; it’s agreeing with God’s definition about this reality He created.

I Win No Matter What

I remember Vincent Cheung saying in Blinded by Atheism, “Apologetics is so easy that if it is the main focus of your life and if you become any good at it, you might become disillusioned with boredom and with a lack of purpose.”

He is correct; if you use biblical deductionalism or rationalism. If I choose not to be nice and always take apologetic arguments to the presuppositional level straight away (supposing my opponent even has the intellectual ability to go there), I win no matter what happens. If I stick to the scripture, I win. It doesn’t matter what my opponent says; if they say anything, I win. Even if all they say is the word “as,” I win.

The presuppositional level has to do with your starting point for knowledge and to a larger degree the things you must have in order to have any intelligence. My worldview is not their worldview. My Bible says it is true and all others are false. It says knowledge comes from God, not observation or empiricism. Thus, my worldview disagrees with all other worldviews about the presupposition of knowledge. Because other worldviews always disagree with my worldview about knowledge and the Bible is always right, then any knowledge they use does not come from their worldview, and so they never have logical justification for any knowledge they have. It does not matter if it is their own name, if it is knowledge about a tree, bird, or something abstract like “as,” “the,” or logic, or math; all such knowledge does not come from their worldview. Their worldview has no intelligence, or true or false premises about anything in reality; it has no subjects or predicates; it has no logic or math.

Even if I argue my position in a poor way, I still win. If we consider the worldview argument like a tree, the presuppositional level is the axe laid at the trunk of the tree. Even if I poorly argue for a point and my opponent seems to win a small point, they only manage to save a small twig at the top of the tree. However, one swing with my axe and the whole tree comes down.

If they make any statement about reality, or ask any question about reality or my worldview, I am not allowed to accept it, because the Bible says only it is true, says all others are false, and only it has knowledge. They do not have knowledge, and so they cannot use knowledge to make a statement about anything. If an atheist says rock layers show… (it does not matter what the conclusion is; the important thing is the knowledge of the terms rock and layers), I cannot receive his statement without presupposing his epistemology gives him knowledge. But the Bible clearly says only God gives knowledge; all others are false. If I accept his epistemology gives him the ability to use the terms “rock” and “layers,” then I reject the Bible at the same time because the Bible says only it gives knowledge (via God’s direct power) and all others are false. To use empiricism with my opponent is to reject my God at the same time. To use empiricism is to give the tree trunk to my opponent, so that the very best I can do is cut down some of his worldview branches, because I have now lost the ability to chop down the foundation of his worldview.

I would tell my opponent,

I do not use your epistemology of empiricism, which you used to produce the terms of rock and layers. If you are going to question me using an anti-biblical epistemology (the very thing we disagree about), then the logical burden of proof is on you to justify the knowledge of rock and layers. I admit, if I were to use or assume with you your empiricism, I must also reject my Christianity. But this is the very thing we disagree about, or will you just accept the Bible is the only starting point for knowledge? Because if you do, then I win, and you will be saved. I don’t believe in your worldview. I refuse to go further, because the burden of proof is on you. If you do not have knowledge of rock and layers, it is pointless what the conclusions are. You attacked me with the certainty that you have the knowledge of rocks and layers. I do not believe you. I don’t presuppose your worldview.

Your Words Always Carry Authority

Sometimes the faith preachers can go too far in their teaching on words, confession, and giving Satan authority through your words of unbelief. Most of the mistakes boil down to one of two things. First is their demonic doctrine of Arminianism. Their denial of the Bible’s sovereignty leads them to say God gave up some of His power and authority and handed it to man, and then man passed it to Satan, and so on. The second is a borderline superstition about words. Jesus said, “Lazarus is dead” (John 11:14). This did not cancel His ability to raise him from the dead, because Jesus said it along with the statement, “we will go and wake him up” (John 11:11). Jesus did not say he was dead in unbelief, fearful that Lazarus could not be raised from the dead, but as a statement made on the human level of observation. Jesus said what could be observed, but contradicted empiricism by faith: “We will go and wake him up.”

With that being said, there is some truth to what is being said, and we need to address it. Proverbs 18:21 declares that life and death are in the power of the tongue. The most obvious way to see this is in salvation. If you believe and confess with your tongue, you will be saved (Romans 10:9-10). However, sometimes the confession of the tongue can be as simple as tears. For Jesus said to the woman who washed His feet with her tears, and to whom He said all her sins are forgiven, “Your faith has saved you” (Luke 7:50). Jesus, the most God-centered man who ever lived, did not say, “God saved you”; no, He said, “Your faith has saved you.” Thus, we see it is more than just words, but words backed up by faith.

Moses said, “I present before you life and death; choose your path” (Deuteronomy 30:19). And the way we choose is by unbelief or faith. If unbelief, then words of unbelief will follow. If faith, then words of faith in God will follow. This is why Jesus said to the woman, regarding the forgiveness of her sins, “Your faith has saved you,” rather than saying “God saved you.” Faith-filled words or unbelief-filled words determine the course of your life. Your position in life is finalized by your confession.

Talk about a divine mic drop—your tongue’s basically a cosmic remote control; hit ‘faith’ for blessings, or ‘unbelief’ for the eternal buffering screen.

God Is Sovereign and Still Is

Because God has not given up any of His direct and absolute control over all things, He therefore still does all that He wants. He defines His own creation and establishes connections and cause and effects. He was sovereign when He made the promises, and so He is sovereign and faithful to do them, no matter how incredible they are.

Thus, when God made the earth, God gave dominion of the earth to man, commanding man to steward it (Genesis 1:28). God did not stop being the only real cause of all things, but on the relative level, because God is in control of all things, it was His choice to put the earth under man’s authority and stewardship. Adam did not ask for this authority and dominion. It is because God is sovereign that Adam had this responsibility and authority even though Adam did not ask for it.

Because the earth was given to man, when Adam sinned, much authority and power was transferred over to Satan, by God’s choice and design. Even though Adam did not ask for the stewardship and responsibility of managing the earth, it was his because God sovereignly made it so. Thus, even if Adam did not want the responsibility for his choices and words of unbelief to result in earthly authority being transferred to Satan, he had no choice in the matter because this dynamic was established by God. The devil said to Jesus, “I will give you all their authority and splendor; it has been given to me, and I can give it to anyone I want to” (Luke 4:6). Jesus did not refute Satan. After Jesus’ resurrection, He said to the disciples, “All authority has been given to Me” (Matthew 28:18). Jesus took it back, and all those united to Him not only have the original authority and stewardship given to Adam, but much, much, much greater; it is as great as the authority Jesus has. Jesus has made us royal priests in Him forever (1 Peter 2:9, Revelation 1:6). We are not just sub-heirs, but co-heirs with Jesus (Romans 8:17). We are united to Jesus’ body; therefore, because all things, including all powers, authority, rulers, and dominions are under Jesus’ feet, they are under our feet (Ephesians 1:22-23). Jesus has given us the privilege and authority to use His Name to ask for whatever we want and get it (John 14:13-14, & ch 15, and 16). He has endowed us with the power of the Holy Spirit; the same Spirit that empowered Him (Acts 1:8).

As a believer, I did not ask to be made a royal priest in Jesus. And yet, this position of authority and power is mine, whether I want it or not. By my words, as a royal priest, I can command sickness to leave and rebuke Satan to his face. I do not go in and out of being a royal priest who can use Jesus’ name. I always have this position, whether I want it or not. Thus, my words always carry royal priesthood weight and authority because in God’s mind, He thinks I am a royal priest in Jesus. For example, if a king mutters to himself, “I want some water,” even if he did not intend for a servant to go get him water, a servant will get him water, because the word of the king is law. This is exactly what the Canaanite woman did with Jesus’ word (Matthew 15:21-28). Jesus’ word put her as a dog in the house, under the table. Thus, the woman demanded some crumbs, because it was Jesus’ word that put her there, even if Jesus did not intend for her to get healing. Even though the woman hijacked Jesus’ word, on the other hand, she honored His word as that of a King, whose word is law. Jesus was in a position of authority, and the woman was demanding that Jesus honor His word.

 Sovereign God hands out authority like candy at a parade—Adam fumbled it to Satan, Jesus snatched it back, and now we’re co-kings; just don’t trip over your own tongue, or you’ll end up cursing yourself.

This is what we mean by our words having life and death. It is not that we have inherent power in our words, but God in His sovereign choice has put us into positions of authority and power, whether we want it or not. It was this way from the beginning with Adam. Adam lost much of this authority, but God began to give it back starting with Abraham, and in Jesus much more has been given to the believer. It does not matter if you acknowledge your position of authority and power, because God in His mind thinks you are in a position of authority and power, therefore, God will see to it personally that the words you speak will bring death or life to you. It is because God is sovereign and we are accountable to Him that words bring life and death. It is because God is sovereign that I have the power to command sickness to leave, to shut the mouths of demons, and tell mountains to fly away (Mark 11:23).

This results in a double-edged sword. On the one hand, you can curse yourself with death, pain, sickness, shame, and demons, or you can bless yourself with life, peace, prosperity, the Holy Spirit, health, and glory. Even if you shut your mouth, just your tears are enough for God to use His sovereignty to ensure they either damn or bless you.

There is only one word in the Bible for demon possession, and it means to be demonized, and it includes anything from being slightly harassed to outright possession. Because Adam sinned in a position of authority, this led God to give man’s authority over to the devil, and this allowed Satan to demonize mankind. For example, in Acts 10:38, Peter says Jesus healed all those being victimized by the devil. Thus, much sicknesses are caused by demons, and so sickness is largely caused by being demonized. If you are sick, then it is likely due to being demonized, although sometimes it can be just God’s curse at the fall (Genesis 3:16-19).

This is why words are so important. If the doctor says you have stage 4 cancer, and in unbelief and fear you repeat this, because God thinks you are in a position of authority, you have just authorized death and pain for you. You have given permission for demons to demonize you. If you say, “getting old means I get arthritis and feeble and fall,” then it will be true for you. You have chosen death. You have chosen unbelief and curses. God thinks you are a steward in authority over the earth, He thinks you are royalty, He thinks you are a priest, and so your words of unbelief have authorized your flesh to be sick, weak, and in pain.

Once you realize you are always in a position of authority and power, then the intelligent thing to do is use your words to confess the goodness of God over yourself, and use the Name of Jesus to get good things from God.

This is why Christianity started with Abraham, whose very name is a confession of faith in God: “I am the father of many nations” (Genesis 17:5). Christianity started with faith-filled words in God’s good promises of health, wealth, fame, and blessings. Both the Old and New Testaments say this: “We believed and so we have spoken” (2 Corinthians 4:13; Psalm 116:10). This is Christianity 101.

Satan knows this and so he has demonized the faithless into confessing death, and by confessing unbelief they are doing Satan’s job for him. They will say, “We are the worst of sinners,” and so they are (1 Timothy 1:15, but misused here). God thinks they are in a position of authority (even if it is only a mere shadow of the stewardship Adam once had), and so they authorize their souls and actions to be sinful and unrighteous. They say things like, “This sickness is sent by God to teach me something.” The ten spies of the Israel came back from spying on the Land and gave a truthful report about their observations saying, “we are small, and the people are giants, we can’t do this.” It was correct; however, God was angry because God’s promise contradicted their observations. They chose their observation over God’s promise. God made their words to be a self-fulling decree. Thus, God in His sovereignty makes unbelief a self-fulfilling prophecy of sickness, because God considers our words have weight

 Think about it. The faithless and traditionist mock the faith preachers for decreeing and prophesying. Yet, just like the 10 spies, they decree they are sick and are too weak to defeat stage 4 cancer, because that is what the doctor confessed. They prophesy about how old age makes them feeble and how arthritis bends their hands; they decree this because they already observe how their bodies hurt. They decree that they are small, but confess that sickness and old age are giants. They prophesy that sufferings from everyday troubles of life will eat away at their life, libido and happiness. And just like the Israelites who confessed their own smallness, defeat and sufferings, God made their decrees reality, and made their prophecies manifest. They speak against the faith teachers for decreeing, but their mouths pour out an onslaught of decrees and prophecies, but in the negative. And we see it come to pass. They see their confessions manifest, not because they have inherent power in words, but because the sovereign God thinks their decrees have authority and power. Their lives are a living testimony of the power of decrees and the reality of prophecy. Their doctrine is against decreeing, but their lives are a constant endorsement of it.

It does not matter if you do not want your self-deprecating statements, or observations about how your body feels, to be self-fulling prophecies, God in His sovereignty ensures your words authorizes them to be so. This is how God is using His sovereignty, so deal with it. Deal with it by speaking faith filled words in God’s blessings.    

Satan’s sneaky script flip—get the faithless yapping negativity, and poof, they’re self-sabotaging superstars; meanwhile, God’s like, “I glued the mic to your hand, it will amplify your words, so think carefully what you will say!”

There is a reason Jesus preached so much. Faith comes by hearing the word of truth (Romans 10:17). By hearing the truth, our hearts are filled with faith. When our hearts are filled with faith, we open our mouths and confess His blessings over our lives. In the Gospels, Jesus kept saying things like, “Ask what you want using my Name and get it” (John 16:23-24). And then, “What you SAY, if you believe, then you will get it.” And if you “SAY to this mountain it will move” (Mark 11:23).

Notice how many times Jesus says, “SAY.”

Mark 11:23-24: “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. Therefore I tell you, whatever you [SAY] for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”

Lastly, we are instructed to always be praying, praying in tongues, rejoicing, and praising God (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18; Ephesians 6:18; 1 Corinthians 14:2). God knows that He sees us in authority and so commands us to continually be saying faith-filled words about His goodness, salvation, and blessings over us. Our faith, our words, and confessions need to catch up to our identity in Christ, to our high position of already sitting in the heavenly places in Christ (Ephesians 2:6), and to our position as always being a royal priest. Our words have power and authority because God is sovereign, and because He loves us. Jesus enjoys seeing the people He died for use His Name to say and command good things for themselves.

Just as speaking sickness opens a foothold for you to be demonized (Ephesians 4:27), speaking in tongues is a foothold for the powers of God to flood into your life.

Your words are like spiritual WiFi passwords: Mutter curses and invite demonic hackers; confess faith and unlock God’s unlimited data plan of miracles.

I Will Never Send Anyone (Sickness) To Attack You

“If indeed one attacks, it is not from me; whoever attacks you shall fall because of you.

Look! I myself have created the craftsman who blows the fire of coals, and who produces a weapon for his work; also I myself have created the destroyer to destroy.

 [No] weapon formed against you shall succeed, and you shall [condemn] every tongue that rises against you for judgment. This is the inheritance of the servants of Yahweh, and their legal right from me.” (Isaiah 54:15-17 LEB)

I noticed two essays on my website being viewed more, which are “The Devil Is Making You Sick, Not God,” and “Sickness Is Satan’s Glory, Not God’s. They all have a similar theme: God did not send you sickness. It is not from Him. It was sent from Satan. God sends healings. The scales of faithless teachings are falling away from the eyes of believers.

This passage is a one-stop-shop of a few major themes in one place. I will focus on a few things to meditate on.

The first theme is God saying He did not send bad people to fight against Israel. CSB: “If anyone attacks you, it is not from me.” ERV: “I will never send anyone to attack you.”

How can anyone be more God-centered than God? How can anyone be more concerned for God’s name and glory than God? Obviously, no one can, including you, and definitely including faithless trash that peddles cessationism or any denial of expansionism. Is it not anti-God-centered to say God did not send something? Is God not directly and absolutely sovereign over all things? Well, yes, God is. In fact, the next section of the passage directly addresses this. God says He creates nations and the people in them and creates them for war, for His own purpose. If a blacksmith makes a weapon, it is because God made it happen with more directness than the blacksmith making the sword. God does not find a nation and then use them. No. God forms them from scratch. This is like the neutral lump of clay in Romans 9. God starts with a neutral lump and forms it into the shapes He wants.

So yes, God is directly sovereign over all things in absolute and direct control. However, the same passage says, “If someone attacks you, I didn’t send them, I didn’t do it.” The reason for this is simple. The Bible affirms God’s control over all things, but it mainly talks at the human level, or relative level. That is, relative to how humans perceive things and relative to how one created object interacts with another created object. On this relative level, God is correct when He denies sending people to attack Israel. There is no mystery here because we are talking about two different categories: one ultimate and the other relative. Mystery comes because people create category errors by mixing the two. Mixing ultimate and relative levels? That’s like confusing quantum physics with your grandma’s cookie recipe—both sweet, but one will blow your mind, the other your diet.

God does not send evil to Israel. If evil does come to them, God did not send it. This was true under the Old Covenant, but today we have a better Covenant. Thus, how much more does God not send evil to saints, who are redeemed by the blood of Jesus and part of Abraham’s blessing? This blessing says God is our God and we His children, and that He never stops from doing good to us. Jesus defined a good father as one who gives a fish for a fish—or that is, who gives you what you ask for and not something different. In the New Contract, Jesus is our High Priest who ministers to us the things He accomplished through His atonement. Jesus not only forgave all our sins, but by His stripes we were healed. Jesus became our poverty so we become rich by His wealth. Jesus took on our curse and gave us the blessing of Abraham, which included fame, health, wealth, and supernatural increase to all our lives.

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

However, our passage in Isaiah is more basic, for it is not directly talking about the ministry of Jesus. It is more about God’s nature. In Isaiah, God mentions for us to remember we were carved from the rock of Abraham. God is a friend to Abraham and is good to all his descendants. God is kind and compassionate. This is God’s nature. Thus, God does not send evil to His children. He gives them good things; He gives them a fish for a fish. If there is poverty, sickness, and troubles, God did not send it. They came from someone else, but not God.

Notice the implication. When God says He did not send the evil, you cannot blame God for it. If you have cancer, or if your loved one died before their time, or you are poor, you cannot blame God for this, because God did not send it. He denies that He did it. God rejects any involvement in your sicknesses and troubles. They are from Satan, the curse or they are self-inflicted. However, even if they are self-inflicted, Satan is the one who is actively working on you to self-inflict yourself with death and destruction. Thus, the devil is the one sending you the troubles.

You are a douchebag piece of trash if you blame God for your sickness, because He did not send it. Whom am I to believe? God denies it, but you affirm it? You have no right to attribute to God what He denies.

Beyond the blame game, there is the issue that you are calling God Satan. Confusing God with Satan? That’s like mistaking Superman for Lex Luthor—same cape, wrong agenda. Epic fail. Seriously, you cannot tell the difference between God and the devil, and you want to school people in theology?

There is another implication drawn directly from the passage: “No weapon forged against you will prevail, and you will refute every tongue that accuses you. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord” (NIV).

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

A doctor will condemn you with sickness. But God did not send the sickness. ERV: “I will never send anyone to attack you.” Or that is, God will never send sickness to attack you. The devil is making you sick. Therefore, when the doctor’s tongue accuses you with stage 4 cancer, refute it by the Name of Jesus Christ. Because God did not send you sickness, you have the freedom to send it away. Your inheritance through Jesus Christ includes the authority to use His name to command sickness to leave. This birthright belongs to all who are made righteous by Jesus’ atonement. This is God’s vindication to all who belong to Him.

The point to notice is basic: you, not God, are speaking to troubles. “You will refute every tongue that accuses you.” You have the inheritance to rebuke troubles sent to you, and so you must be the one who refutes it, not God. In essence, God is saying, “I did not send evil to you; therefore, I will not be the one to send it away. I have given you the vindication and authority to refute it and send it away. You open your mouth, and you command it.”

God’s handing you the mic—time to drop some holy bars on that mountain. “Yo, cancer, hit the road… in Jesus’ name!”