Tag Archives: faith

Sad Sob Story VS faith

When that Gentile woman came to Jesus with her demon-possessed daughter, she hit Him with the full sad-sob-story package. Heart-wrenching details. Desperate pleas. “Lord, help me!” She begged like her life depended on it. But it didn’t move Him. Not one inch.

I mean, wasn’t Jesus moved with compassion to heal the crowds and feed the multitudes?

Jesus didn’t heal her because the story was tragic enough. He didn’t heal her because she sounded sincere or because He felt extra compassionate that day. Some might say compassion alone always gets the job done. Not so. Unlike the Arminian fools who deny God’s sovereignty, remember this: God can move independently of us and our faith. The atonement of Jesus is one big story of God sovereignly working to show compassion to people who are unworthy and didn’t even ask for it. God can show compassion without anyone asking in faith—such as when Jesus healed the man at the pool. However, it’s a lottery-type situation. If you’re desperate to be helped or healed, merely waiting on God to sovereignly show compassion is like waiting on the lottery. That’s not the way.

God has always moved independently of us and always will—at the ultimate level. But in the relational context of His promises and commands, we must do what God commanded. He commanded faith.

Think hard about this: Jesus had plenty of compassion back in His hometown, yet unbelief locked the door and left people sick anyway. Despite His compassion, Jesus Christ walked away from His hometown with hurting people moaning in their beds and desperate hearts hoping for help.

Back to our story. What finally moved the King? The rarest thing on planet Earth: faith. Real faith. The kind that grabs God’s promises and refuses to let go. She didn’t whine with a sob story. No—she made an argument from faith, believing He was faithful to His Word. “Woman, great is your faith!” And her daughter was delivered.

Same scene, different woman: the one with the twelve-year issue of blood. The crowd was crushing in, everybody bumping and grabbing at Jesus like it was Black Friday at the miracle store. They were pressed up against Him, but He walked right through them until one touch stopped Him cold.

“Who touched Me?”

Power had gone out from Him. Not from a desperate sob story. It came from faith.

It wasn’t the sad sob story that made power flow out of Jesus. It wasn’t the sad sob story that made Jesus stop and ask who touched Him. It wasn’t the begging. It wasn’t even raw compassion. Faith is what made Jesus zero in with laser focus while millions clamored for attention. Faith is what pulled divine power out of Him like a magnet.

You can feel lost in a sea of a billion faces (and trust me, there are those with far worse sob stories than yours in the crowd). So why would Jesus focus on you? The answer: Faith. If you have faith, God will give you His undivided attention, His undivided help, and His undivided power to save, lift, and bless you. Faith is the answer.

This is the wake-up call we all need: God isn’t merely moved by your tear-jerker reel or how loud you can cry, “Please help!” He is moved by faith that takes Him at His Word. There’s a way to yell “Have mercy on me” that’s trying to make God feel sorry for you—or it can be a cry of faith, knowing God already feels for you, has already provided for you, and will certainly help you. And if you already know this, you’ll find yourself naturally saying, “Sickness, I command you to leave, in Jesus’ name!”

Stop rehearsing the sad story like it’s currency, because the real currency is faith. Believe the promise, speak to the mountain, and watch the King give you His undivided attention and miracle-working power.

You can do the same—right now. Faith is still the rarest, most powerful thing on Earth. Will you be one of the special few who use it? If there was a crowd of so-called Christians, could Jesus single you out, pointing to you and saying, “Now there’s a person with faith—I keep feeling power leave Me and flow into them”? If not, today is the day to correct yourself and finally become that person.

Jesus wondered if He would find faith on Earth when He returned. The context was not about faith for salvation but someone who kept praying in faith until they get what “they want.” Be one of those people Jesus is pleased to find when He comes—because you are a person who has faith. On that last day, look up, meet Jesus’ eyes, and say, “You questioned if You would find faith when You returned? Well, I’m still standing, Jesus! I have faith to move mountains, heal the sick, cast out demons, and faith to know that I am the righteousness of God because of You. At the very least, You found me.” Do you want to see Jesus with a sh@t eating grin of absolute joy, when He finds you? Then have faith.

Donuts & Coffee

Vol. 1

Oshea Davis
2026

Table of Contents

*1 He gives and takes away.

*2 God Took My Son!

*3 Why Are You Afraid?.

*4 Aim for the Stars and Faith Will Make You Hit Them!

* 5 Your Fame is the Gospel’s Priority.

*6 Head Held High.

*7 Theological Gaslighting.

*8 Jesus’ Real Test for Orthodoxy Isn’t What You Think.

*9  Belly Crawlers.

* 10 Mystery Box.

*11 It’s Not Hard to Believe.

*12 A Little Homemade Sacrifice.

*13 Not Your Eyeballs.

*14 Proof Your Insides Are Clean.

*15 Storm The Throne Room..

*16 Be Patient Cop-out

*17 But Here’s The Gut-punch.

*18 Rebuke Like The Book Says.

*19 Existence Exists.

*20  Shadow It & Be Done With It.

*21 Carnal Cheeseburgers.

*22  Set Apart For God.

*1 He gives and takes away

Yeah, at the ultimate ontological level it’s straight facts. By His Word alone everything is created and holds together (Colossians 1:17). No rival power exists. God forms light and darkness, peace and calamity (Isaiah 45:7). Sovereign over it all—no debate, no committee.

But watch this: when the same God promises to define a slice of His creation a certain way, because He is truth and the law of non-contradiction, it slams the door shut on exceptions or alternatives. He does what He says.

The gospel is finished. Jesus didn’t leave a tab open. To take away bad and give good, is the whole point of substitutionary atonement. Think about that. He took the sickness, wiped the sinful record clean, crushed every besetting sin, absorbed the poverty, fixed the broken relationships, and pulled us out of obscurity. He became the curse so we could walk in the blessing (Galatians 3:13; Isaiah 53:4-5; 2 Corinthians 8:9). So yes, God takes away, but He did so in the atonement, so that He can forever give good to you.

For His kids, “gives and takes away” flips the script, because the whole point of substitutionary atonement is to for God to take way bad  and give good. In Acts 10:38 the Spirit defines sickness is bad and healing as good. Thus, God does not give you sickness; that’s Satan’s priesthood. The taking away is reserved for the junk—disease, lack, shame. The giving is nonstop: righteousness, divine healing, supernatural wealth, Holy Spirit power, answered prayers that hit like lightning, and miracles that make the devil file for unemployment.

So next time someone waves Job around like it’s your contract, just smile and say, “Wrong contract, bro. The Lamb already paid it in full.” Now walk in what’s yours. Jesus already did the taking from you in the atonement, and he took all your bad, all your sins, all your curses and all your sickness.  He already did the giving in the atonement; giving you all the good, both now and forever. The God who gives and takes away has already decided—and He decided for you. 🔥

*2 God Took My Son!

Uh..no, He didn’t.

Jesus already took care of all the bad stuff once and for all (Acts 10:38) — things like sickness (Isaiah 53), sin (Isaiah 53), poverty (2 Corinthians 8:9 and 9:8), and every curse (Galatians 3). In exchange, He hooked us up with riches, righteousness, healing, and the full blessings of Abraham’s gospel!

So when someone says about a Christian who left this earth too soon (before that long, satisfying life we’re promised, Psalm 91, Abraham’s gospel.), “God took my child” or “God took my spouse”… they’re missing the mark. If that person was truly in Christ, God “received” them with open arms, sure, but He didn’t “take” them. The real culprit who did the taking was Satan, using the curse and unbelief as his sneaky weapons of choice.

Quick reminder: the only truly unforgivable sin is blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. And even though healing is a straight-up command (James 5), believing the gospel is commanded, and Jesus straight-up invited us to pray for anything we want and actually receive it — failing to get healed is not the unpardonable sin. A Christian can die sick and still be saved. But let’s be crystal clear: it wasn’t God who cut their time short. It was Satan and unbelief that opened the door. Taking your health and life is Satan’s priesthood not Jesus’. Premature death is Satan’s middle finger at Jesus’ atonement. Jesus is not flipping the bird at his own gospel; that’s Satan’s job.

Because here’s the deal: our God is the Giver, not a Taker! Sure, in a broad sovereign sense you could say God “takes away,” but for His elect? Jesus stood in our place so that the Father “takes away from Him,” so that God doesn’t “take away” from us. God took away health, love, wealth, every good thing from Jesus; and finally, the Father took away Jesus’ very life. That’s the whole point of substitution. God did some taking from me, but it was at the cross. Jesus was substituted to let God take away from Him, so that God now only gives to us. That’s how the gospel works.

My old man died with Jesus, and so in this sense, God did take my old life… but that transaction already happened at the cross in Jesus. That old man is dead and gone! A new man lives. And this new man is the recipient of the other side the substitutionary atonement; God only gives good to this new Oshea, he does not take.

That’s the beautiful point of substitution: Jesus took the hit so you wouldn’t have to experience God “taking” from us, because He let the Father take from Him. In exchange, God now only wants to pour every good thing into your life.

So tell me… are you finally catching what the gospel is really all about?

*3 Why Are You Afraid?

It was a real storm. Waves crashing over the boat. Disciples thinking, “We’re toast.” Jesus? Snoozing like it’s nap time. They wake Him in panic: “Lord, save us! We’re drowning!”

His reply? “Why are you afraid? You have so little faith!”

Then one word from Jesus and the wind and waves shut their mouths. Dead calm.

Humanly speaking, from a starting point of empirical observation, then Yeah, fear made sense. However, it only makes sense, if you are without God, and your worldview is human limitations, based on human observation. But here’s the punchline they missed—and we can miss too, if we are not watchful: you’re not just human anymore. That old man is dead and gone. You’re a child of God, blessed with Abraham’s blessing (Galatians 3:13-14), baptized into the same authority Jesus carried. You carry the Name that makes demons flee, sickness bow, and creation obey. That changes everything.

Picture it: you look up and a tornado is dropping on your house. You cry out, “God, help! Can’t You see I’m about to die?!” And Jesus opens a window to heaven, and looks you dead in the eye—in front of your family and friends—and says, “Bro… why are you afraid? Don’t you have any faith?”

Och! Here is a question. Would you still follow Him if He rebuked you like this? I mean, Jesus didn’t even acknowledge your intense feelings; rather, Jesus was dismissive of them as stupid. The man Jesus, is telling you to calm your emotions down. He says your faith is pathetic, it is the case of your fear. Jesus says your emotions of fear is not acknowledged or wanted by God. Because He’s the same yesterday, today, and forever. That same rebuke is also coming to you when you face a deadly storm, or deadly whatever it is. He’s not being mean for mean’s sake—He’s reminding you who you are.

Jesus’ presupposition is wild: He expects you to stand up, speak to that “deadly” thing, and tell it to chill out and shut up. Not because you’re special, but because the promises already belong to you. Faith isn’t wishful thinking—it’s your legal right to command the chaos.

So next time the waves hit, skip the unbelief panic party. Believe Jesus and rebuke the wind. That’s your new normal as a Christian.

*4 Aim for the Stars and Faith Will Make You Hit Them!

It’s wild how even Christians have swallowed the lie: “Aim low and call it humility.” Most folks grab their God-given dreams, load up a shotgun with birdshot, and blast just past their own feet. Boom—they hit dirt. Then they high-five themselves like they just conquered the universe. “Look at me, suffering under God’s sovereign hand!” Meanwhile half the pellets ricochet and smack them in the face. Newsflash: Scripture never throws a parade for dirt-aimers.

Flip open Hebrews 11. The heroes didn’t point at their shoes—they locked eyes on the stars and let faith launch the arrow straight to Orion’s Belt. Take that Roman centurion, the ultimate outsider. Jesus had already said His focus was Israel first. Ground level was all the man “should” expect. Nope. He marched right up, stared Jesus down, and fired at the moon: “Just say the word and my servant will be healed.”

Jesus didn’t sigh and say, “Bro, one miracle at a time.” He was astonished. “I haven’t seen faith like this in Israel!” The centurion didn’t stop there. While the first miracle was still mid-air, he upgraded the request—right there, no distance, no delay. Jesus grinned and publicly bragged about him.

Here’s the doctrine, straight up: The higher you aim, the more God likes it. Faith doesn’t cap your requests; it catapults them. Hit Orion’s Belt? Great—now ask for Andromeda in the other pocket. Jesus doesn’t roll His eyes at bold faith; He boasts about it before men and angels.

You can never aim too high or too often. The only mistake is aiming too low, too seldom.

So tell me… what stars are you locking onto today? Fire that arrow. Faith’s got the velocity.

The stars never looked so good, nor so close.

* 5 Your Fame is the Gospel’s Priority

One of the major things God promised Abraham was to make “his” name great—not just to hype His own fame (though Abraham’s elevation would glorify God too). “I will make your name great,” the Lord straight-up declared (Genesis 12:2). Boom. Direct promise.

Through the Gospel of Jesus Christ—who took our curse upon Himself and redeemed us from it (Galatians 3:13)—we’ve inherited that exact same Abraham’ package! Christ became our cures, as a substitute, to give us the gospel of Abraham.

The full Gospel isn’t just forgiveness of sins (which is more technically the doorway to the gospel); it includes God making “your” name famous on the earth. Fame, favor, and footprint are baked into the blessing of Abraham we now own by faith.

Dying unknown, in total obscurity and absurdity? That’s no holy humility badge—that’s a curse straight out of Satan’s playbook. It’s the ministry of his dark priesthood, the thief who comes to steal your fame, rob your health and wealth, kill your destiny, and destroy your impact (John 10:10). He loves keeping you small so the world never sees the Royal Priesthood in you.

As Vincent Cheung points out in Our Prosperity in God’s Program, “ Receive things from God for your own benefit. If it stops there, God is honored because he has blessed one person. You can then consciously participate in the expansion of the kingdom of God. However, even if you do not concern yourself with the situation any further, you will naturally further God’s program. He will take this and increase the effect to benefit more people and to magnify himself with it. Just by receiving from God for yourself, more and more, again and again, you will do more for God than the counterfeit Christians who seem to suffer much for their religion, but who refuse to receive from God and forbid others to receive. They hinder the gospel and bring shame to the name of Jesus.”

Even if we were only focused on our own fame, by faith in Jesus, it will always have indirect effects is magnifying God’s kingdom. Thus, it is good to the fame God promised in Abraham’s gospel, when is given to us in Jesus’ gospel. The gospel preached to Abraham was about his fame, his wealth, his health and him being highly favor in all he did, and not God’s. The gospel has many aspects about it that are concerned with your fame and increase, not God’s. As Paul said in 1 Corinthians, 2:7, the gospel was predestined for your glory.  Because we deny pantheism, thus, directly referring to these aspects of the gospel that helps, increases and blesses the elect, the gospel is for our glory not God’s. Now of course God as designed it so that our glory and increase ultimately glorifies God. This is gospel. Without it you don’t have the gospel.

Once you are walking in faith, health, wealth, answered prayers and miracles, you will find you stop thinking about yourself, because you are doing so well, and all fear and stress to climb up are gone, and this freedom will lead you to show compassion and help others. Seeing your own hearts desires come into reality will help and free you to say, “God you have blessed me so much, I want more directly focus on expanding your Kingdom against the remaining darkness. How can I help?” The point is simple. Simply by receiving the good things promised, such as health and wealth, you expand God’s kingdom. Anything done in faith, no matter what it is, establishes God’s kingdom more and more. On this point alone, receiving miracle health and miracle money for yourself, still establishes God’s kingdom.

By seeking your own fame and increase in faith, you directly bless yourself, your family and friends.

This is why I remind us: How little the faithless value the Gospel and God Himself. They think so small of themselves and then force the promises of God through the tiny pinhole of their limited self-view. But newsflash—you are “not” the measurer of reality. God and His promises are!

We must measure our ability and destiny by God’s Word and our new identity in Christ Jesus: Abraham’s seed, co-heirs with the King, destined for greatness. Stop playing small, saints. Let the Father boast about you. Step boldly into the fame He promised and make some divine mischief for His glory! 🔥

*6 Head Held High

Maturity isn’t you scraping together some spiritual tip to hand God like a nervous waiter at the cosmic buffet. Nah. Maturity is you, as a full-blown son, leaning back and receiving every endless, jaw-dropping blessing He’s already dying to unload on you (1 Corinthians 2:6-12). The Spirit isn’t some vague vibe; He’s the insider who searches the deep things of God and shouts, “Hey kid, this feast is yours—dig in!”

Picture the prodigal kid. He finally drags himself out of the pig pen. Most of us stop there: “Sorry, Dad, I’ll be your servant now.” But real maturity? That’s when God’s Spirit pumps iron in your soul so you don’t just limp home begging scraps. You stand tall, eyes locked on the Father, and let Him slide the signet ring on your finger—full authority, baby. He drapes the BEST robe over your shoulders—righteousness that screams “I belong here.” He buckles the sandals on your feet—so you can walk like royalty, not crawl like a hired hand. Then you march straight into the house, head high, grin wider than the banquet table, because you’re not a guest. You’re the son. You’re the prince. The party is for YOU. Paul says the gospel was predestined for your glory!

And here’s the fun part (because heaven throws better parties than any pig-pen after-party ever could): the Father’s not keeping score. He’s not waiting for you to “earn” the fatted calf. He’s already running toward you with arms wide, robe flapping, ring ready. 1 Corinthians 2:12 spells it out—“We have received… the Spirit who is from God, so that we may understand what God has freely given us.” Freely. No strings. No performance review. Just pure, ridiculous generosity.

So stop tip-toeing around like you owe the King rent. Maturity looks like you receiving the ring, the robe, the sandals—and then throwing your head back and laughing with the joy that only sons know. You belong at this table. Act like it. Grab the blessings. March in. The Father’s already popping the champagne.

*7 Theological Gaslighting

To stay at the foot of the cross is to functionally deny the Resurrection and the Ascension. “Gospel-centered” movements? Come on—they’re straight-up theological gaslighting dressed in pious robes. They use shiny Christian lingo to trap believers in spiritual poverty and powerlessness, like it’s some noble virtue.

The “Gospel” isn’t a dusty historical biography of a dead man hanging on a tree. It’s the current, active decree of an enthroned King who’s very much alive and ruling right now. A theology that fixates on the bloody mess of Calvary while ignoring the present “occupied throne” is nothing more than a dead man’s religion. It’s like showing up to the victory party and obsessing over the scar from the battle that was already won—comical, if it weren’t so tragic.

If Christ is enthroned and we are “seated with Him” (Ephesians 2:6), then the benefits of the atonement—including physical healing and material provision—aren’t optional extras or “maybe someday” blessings. They are your legal rights as a co-heir, paid for in full. Jesus became sin so you could become righteousness. He became a curse so you could walk in blessing. He bore your sicknesses so you could walk in divine health. He became poor so you could be rich. That’s not prosperity hype; that’s Isaiah 53, 2 Corinthians 5:21, Galatians 3:13-14, and 2 Corinthians 8:9 screaming at us from the page.

Cross-centered theology is vile precisely because it weaponizes the cross as a shield to protect unbelief. By obsessing over the suffering, these theologians explain away zero miracles, unanswered prayers, and powerless Christianity as “God’s sovereign will to suffer.” Doctrine of demons, plain and simple. It’s a sophisticated way to remain an atheist while still using Christian vocabulary—trading the tangible power of the living Christ for historical sentimentality and a permanent pity party.

To fix your gaze on Calvary, is to fix your eyes where Jesus is not. And it is precisely this reason why the faithless keep a cross-centered view, because it keeps them from having to look Jesus in the face. They don’t like Jesus. They don’t want to lock eyes with Him, and they will teach you to practice their unbelief. Hebrews says for us to walk boldly with our heads held high to the throne of grace. Why? Because that it where Jesus is. We walk with our heads held high so that we lock eyes with Jesus, because we knew He loves us and wants to see us. He made us co-heirs and children of God, princes of heaven, because He loves us. He wants you to open the throne room doors and the first thing He wants to see is not the back of your head on the ground, but the white of your eyes and confident smile. The throne is where Jesus lives. There is no other way to have a relationship with Jesus, other than the one who is on the throne, not the cross.

Do you know this Jesus? There is no other Jesus, but this one.

Time to flip the script, family. The New Testament writers were obsessed with the throne, not the tomb. Cross-centered? That’s the entry door for newbies. Throne-centered? That’s full armor—advancing the Kingdom with miracles, healings, and unshakeable faith. Jesus isn’t still bleeding on a hill. He’s seated, victorious, and inviting you to rule with Him. Stop camping at the cross and start reigning from the throne. The King is alive. Act like it.

*8 Jesus’ Real Test for Orthodoxy Isn’t What You Think

“If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.” (John 15:7-8)

That’s the test. Straight from the King. Not “Do you have the right paragraph about the cross?” Not “Can you quote the atonement correctly while sounding humble?” Jesus made answered prayer the litmus test for real orthodoxy.

James 5 spells it out: “The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” Then he drops examples—forgiveness, healing the sick, commanding the weather to stop or start. Same chapter. Same breath. The righteous man gets results because he actually believes he is righteous.

Here’s the genius (and the gut-punch): only someone who truly trusts the finished atonement passes this test. Jesus became sin, curse, and poverty so you could become the righteousness of God (2 Cor 5:21; Gal 3:13; Isa 53). When you believe that, your heart stops condemning you. You stand bold at the throne of grace and get what you ask. Sickness hears your voice and leaves. Rain hears your voice and obeys. That’s not “name it claim it”; that’s New Covenant normal.

A religious Pharisee can fake “cross-centered” language all day. He can preach Christ crucified with tears and still have zero power. But he can’t fake results. The faithless by definition fail here; because this test demands faith, not footnotes.

That’s exactly why the creeds, the seminaries, and half the pulpits quietly buried Jesus’ test. If you knew John 15:7-8 was the standard, you’d see the fraud in 4K. No power, no fruit, no answers? Not my disciple, says Jesus. Simple. Brutal. Liberating.

Make no mistake—any creed from the past that fails to include to Jesus’ own test of orthodoxy isn’t orthodox, no matter how many fanboys foam at the mouth defending it. If a theologian insists that some man-made confession is the standard of sound doctrine while completely ignoring the King’s litmus test of abiding, asking, and receiving undeniable answers, they’ve just lifted their skirt and exposed their spiritual adultery to you. Cut them out of your life. Excommunicate that influence. Wash yourself from them, lest you partake of their destruction.

So test yourself. Abide. Ask big. Watch the Father glorify Himself through you. The same atonement that made you righteous now makes your prayers unstoppable. That’s the orthodoxy Jesus demands from disciples. 🔥

*9  Belly Crawlers

Staying on the ground and plucking dirt and gravel out of your mouth is the curse God gave the devil. To live like that is to define yourself in relation to Satan, not Christ. We are not talking about legitimate persecution directly for the sake of the gospel.

When God has called us to wield His divine armor and weapons (Eph 6, Acts 1-2, John 14-15), and take ground for the kingdom of God, faith-fumblers think debasing themselves under pain, poverty, sickness, suffering and defeat is glorifying to God. I would agree such things do glorify God, if God is your mortal enemy and He hates you; in this I would concede.

If God is your friend whose Son already took away our poverty, sins, sickness and pain on Himself, as a substitute in the finished atonement, then God is not glorified. If you experience those things Jesus already took away from you, then it is not glorifying to God for you to experience them as double jeopardy.

There is someone who is glorified if a Christian does experience those things Jesus took away, and that is Satan. When Satan helps a Christian to experience the pain, suffering, poverty, sickness that Jesus already took, it is Satan’s middle finger at the gospel of Jesus Christ.

To accept pain, defeat, death, sickness, poverty, besetting sins, loneliness, as suffering under the hand of God, so that you are so humble you are face down in the gravel, means you are imaging Satan not God. To be so masochistic and humble as to find yourself spitting out dirt and gravel is the very curse God placed on Satan to be a snake. To be a belly crawler is not humility before God. To be a belly crawler is to image your father, the devil. Jesus came to destroy the works of Satan (Acts 10:38), which means He came to destroy sickness. To be so sick you find yourself bent low, is to image the works of the devil, not God.

Imagine how stupid you must be to be a bastard snake of Satan, face down in the dirt, thinking you are imaging God? You cannot even tell the difference between God and the devil and you want to school people in theology? That’s hilarious.

Look at the substitutionary atonement. Isaiah 53 says Jesus bore our sicknesses and carried our pains—by His stripes we are healed. Paul says He became poor so that through His poverty we might become rich (2 Cor 8:9). He became sin for us so we become God’s righteousness (2 Cor 5:21). All these from the same finished work! You can’t pick and choose which parts of the atonement you like. Accepting what Jesus took away is trampling that atonement.

God’s sovereignty means reality obeys His word, and by faith we command it like Jesus taught us—sickness goes, provision comes. James tells us the prayer of faith saves the sick. Stop focusing on the dirt in your teeth and lock onto the promises already yours in Christ.

Rise up, sons and daughters. Stop crawling, and Approach the throne boldly as co-heirs, with your head held high.  

* 10 Mystery Box

“Your Will Be Done” Isn’t a Cosmic Shrug—It’s Jesus-Style Obedience!

Mark 14:35 (LEB): “Yet not what I will, but what you will [God’s Command].”

John 14:31: “So that the world may know that I love my Father… just as the Father has commanded me, thus I am doing [heading to the cross].”

John 10:18: “No one takes it from me, but I lay it down voluntarily… This commandment I received from my Father.”

Jesus didn’t pray “Your will be done” like some fatalistic sigh—“Whatever, God, zap me if You feel like it.” Nah. In His own context, it meant: I will obey Your direct command. Full stop. Ontology (God’s absolute causality) is presupposed, sure—but Jesus wasn’t passively surrendering to fate. He was locking in on the command and executing it with joy.

That’s why the same Jesus who sweat blood still marched to the cross. He loved the Father by doing the command.

Fast-forward to us. When you say, “This is God’s will for my life,” don’t sound like a defeatist robot. If you’re like Jesus, it means: What exact command (or promise—which is a command) am I obeying right now?

Sick? “I’m sick, so let God’s will be done” should not mean curling up in holy resignation. James 1 commands: Ask in faith and get wisdom. James 5 commands: Pray the prayer of faith and get healed. That’s the command! So when you say “God’s will be done” over your body, you’re saying, “I’m obeying the command to receive healing and wisdom—right now, by faith!”

God’s will isn’t a mystery box you peek into hoping for the best. It’s the Bible’s commands staring you in the face. Jesus modeled it perfectly: voluntary, authoritative, commandment-driven obedience. He laid down His life on command and took it back on command.

So next time life hits—sickness, confusion, lack—don’t pray like a passive observer. Pray like the Son: “Not my feelings, but Your command be done in me.” Then stand up, believe the promise, and watch the command activate. Healing isn’t “maybe someday if God feels like it.” It’s “by His stripes you were healed” (Isa 53:5). Wisdom isn’t “I’ll suffer till God decides.” It’s “ask in faith and it will be given” (James 1:5-6).

This is the Jesus way.

*11 It’s Not Hard to Believe

I heard a song today drop the line, “It’s hard to believe.” I get the heart behind it—trying to cheer up a struggling believer and keep them standing. Sweet sentiment. But the statement itself? Straight-up wrong.

It is not hard to believe.

Despite what your circumstances scream, despite the storm, despite every feeling yelling otherwise—faith is never truly difficult for the one born from above. If you haven’t been renewing your mind, you’re neck-deep in unrepented sin, or you’re clutching wrong beliefs about God and your identity, then yeah, your experience can feel like a grind. But that’s not faith being hard. That’s just the flesh throwing a tantrum against the new creation.

Here’s the truth that flips the script: Once you’re regenerated, the most foundational worker of your faith isn’t you white-knuckling it. It’s Jesus and the Holy Spirit doing the heavy lifting. Your new creation mind has already been created in the true knowledge of Jesus. It’s done. Finished. God’s sovereign masterpiece, not your weekend DIY project.

You are not the author and perfecter of your faith—Jesus is (Hebrews 12:2). Think about that for a hot second. Is it hard for the mind of Jesus to assent to the Word of God? Of course not. Then it’s not hard for you either, because you have the mind of Christ (1 Corinthians 2:16). He authors it. He establishes it. He perfects it. Faith isn’t you manufacturing belief like some heroic effort; it’s simple assent to what God already declared true about you in Christ.

So stop buying the “faith is a daily struggle” narrative. It’s like a fish complaining that swimming is exhausting. In Christ, believing is your new normal—effortless, supernatural, and already wired into your born-from-above DNA

*12 A Little Homemade Sacrifice

Therefore, Paul quotes Moses in Deuteronomy 9:4. The word of faith tells us that Jesus is our High Priest who redeems us. He does the hard work to reconcile God and man together, so that, upon being reconciled, man might fully enjoy the lavish blessings of their heavenly Father.

“For Moses writes that the law’s way of making a person right with God requires obedience to all of its commands. But faith’s way of getting right with God says, ‘Don’t say in your heart, “Who will go up to heaven?” (to bring Christ down to earth). And don’t say, “Who will go down to the place of the dead?” (to bring Christ back to life again).’” (Romans 10:5-7)

Consider the moment you sin—or you yet again fell to that same besetting sin that keeps showing up like an uninvited guest.

Do you immediately start the mental beat-down? You replay the failure on loop, hoping the self-punishment will somehow “make it right” or at least make you feel spiritual enough to approach God. Or maybe you berate yourself just enough to earn a tiny crumb of divine approval, so your conscience will let you limp forward and ask for forgiveness.

If so, congratulations—you just offered a little homemade “sacrifice.” You just pulled Jesus down from heaven. You just yanked Him up from the grave. Again.

You turned the gospel upside down. The law says, “Do this perfectly or else.” Faith says, “It is finished. Come boldly to the throne of grace.” One demands you climb; the other declares the ladder has says you have already been teleported to the throne of grace.

Jesus didn’t leave reconciliation half-done so we could finish it with emotional self-flogging. He reconciled us completely. The Father is not up there waiting for you to feel bad enough. He is the One who runs to the prodigal while the boy is still rehearsing his sorry speech.

So do you fear God at all?

Real fear of the Lord isn’t terror that makes you perform. The fear of God says, “This God who spared not His own Son—how much more will He freely give me all things?” It’s the confidence that lets you run to Him the moment you stumble, not because you’ve punished yourself enough, but because the occupied throne of grace speaks better things than any self-inflicted guilt ever could.

Stop dragging the resurrected Christ back into your mess to die again for your feelings.

He’s alive. The work is done.

The door is wide open.

Walk in—right now—and enjoy the lavish blessings of your Father.

No more homemade sacrifices.

Only faith. Only rest. Only Him. Only regular miracles. Only faith to move mountains without fear

*13 Not Your Eyeballs

The Resurrection: Proved by Scripture, Not Your Eyeballs

“For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures.” (1 Corinthians 15:3-4)

Paul doesn’t lean on an empty-tomb selfie, a crowd of eyewitnesses, or “history says so.” Nope. He slams it home: Jesus rose **according to the Scriptures**. Psalm 16 is all the proof you need—“You will not let your Holy One see decay.” Boom. Done. He resurrected because the Bible says so. Full stop.

Jesus’ resurrection is not proved by sensation or observation. It’s revealed by the infallible Word of God. Even when the Bible records people seeing the risen Lord, it’s Scripture’s testimony that makes those observations credible—not the eyeballs themselves. Observations are shaky starters at best. Remember the Moabites in 2 Kings 3:22? They looked at water and swore it was blood. Your senses can straight-up lie to you. Human history and “I saw it with my own eyes” make terrible foundations for truth.

We live by faith, not by sight. God’s revelation is the only reliable starting point of knowledge. Period.

This isn’t dusty theology for Sunday school. It’s rocket fuel for your everyday life. In a world that screams “prove it with evidence or it didn’t happen,” we stand unshaken because God already said it. No need to beg your five senses for permission to believe. The same Scripture that raised Jesus from the dead is alive and speaking over you right now.

So let this truth hit you fresh today: the King is alive—not because somebody saw Him, but because the Bible declares it. Speak His promises. Expect miracles. Walk in the power that raised Christ.

*14 Proof Your Insides Are Clean

I dropped the essay “The Prayer Exam: Jesus’ Real Creed of Orthodoxy.” But let’s cut the fancy historical lingo, which i used to relate to those whoes epistemology is history not the word. Let us use Biblical term. Jesus already gave us the sharper picture with His washed-cup illustration.

The religious crowd polished the outside of the cup till it gleamed, while the inside stayed rotten with greed and and unbelief. Jesus called them out: “Blind Pharisees! First clean the inside!” (Matt 23:25-26). That’s the real discipleship exam. Not a historical creedal pop quiz or impressing the gatekeepers with memorizing cross-sounding phrases. It’s a divine paternity test: Are you a child of God or still carrying the family resemblance of the devil?

But, Oshea, how does answered prayers prove you are clean, as a proof of orthodoxy? The blind man testified that God does not listen to sinners.

The proof your insides are clean? The Prayer Room Exam. You step in, pray for miracles—command sickness to leave, speak to storms, tell mountains to move—and they happen. That’s your Father answering because you’re family, supercharged by the Holy Spirit. Only a born-from-above, Spirit-empowered superhuman clears this bar. The natural man can’t fake these results, no matter how shiny his theology looks on the outside.

Even if you’re genuinely saved, immaturity or bad doctrine can make you flop the exam right now. Get in the closet, feast on the Word, renew your mind, and grow. Jesus grows His kids.

But the faithless theologians and pastors strutting in positions of authority? If they can’t pass the test, they have zero business lecturing the body of Christ. Their “orthodoxy” is demon dogmatics and their cup? Inside? Still dirty. They forfeited the right to lead when they forfeited the power.

Ultimately it’s a worldview showdown. Through faith and God’s Word you see and operate in a different reality—one where asking and receiving is normal (John 15:7-8, John 14:12). The unbelieving eye sees a closed, mechanical universe where “realistic” prayers politely end with “if it be Thy will” and miracles are for yesterday.

Abide in Me. Let My words abide in you. Ask big. Get big. Bear fruit.

*15 Storm The Throne Room

Hebrews is all about Contract Theology.

How does it instruct us to apply Contract theology?

Ask—and receive! Not just ask in some half-hearted mumble, but boldly receive the material help, provision, healing, and blessings the New Contract purchased for us right now. This is how you actually do Contract theology. Don’t be the guy who stares into the mirror of God’s Word, admires the reflection of a perfected, highly favored royal son, then walks away broke, sick, or defeated like nothing happened. We must apply what we saw, or it all becomes meaningless head noise.

“Let us therefore come BOLDLy to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:16)

“Dear brothers and sisters, we can BOLDLy enter heaven’s Most Holy Place because of the blood of Jesus.” (Hebrews 10:19 NLT)

The writer of Hebrews doesn’t say “crawl back to the cross like a worm.” He says storm the throne room—because there’s a Man seated there, our Man, our High Priest-King, who already settled the sin issue and now rules everything for the church (Heb. 8:1). Jesus became poor so we could be rich (2 Cor. 8:9). He bore our sickness so we could walk in health (Isa. 53:4-5). The substitutionary atonement didn’t just forgive; it gave us contractual rights as sons and daughters.

The New Covenant is God’s unbreakable “I will be your God and you will be My people” promise. Our part? Faith that doesn’t just hope—faith that takes. Stop tiptoeing around the throne like you’re bothering the King. Stride in with boldness! Need finances? Healing? Breakthrough? Ask specifically and receive the grace to help—right in your time of need.

This is the victorious life: not passive spectators, but co-heirs who know how to apply the mirror. See who you are in Christ, then live it out loud.

Let’s do Contract Theology the Hebrews way—boldly approaching, joyfully receiving, faithfully applying. What need are you bringing to the throne today? Go get it!

*16 Be Patient Cop-out

Ephesians 3:20 Is NOT Your “Be Patient,” Cop-Out

I keep seeing this twisted spin on Ephesians 3:20: “God will give you more than you asked for… just be patient and trust Him.”

Bro, that’s not the Spirit talking. That’s unbelief wearing a pious mask, forcing the Bible through a filter of delay and disappointment. The faithless love doing that—shoehorning their worldview of slow-motion answers into Paul’s explosive declaration.

The way Jesus heals all those sinners in instant healing, and then combine this with His extreme faith doctrine, teaches us that patience’s for miracles is strange, abnormal and out of place.  Instant miracles is regular and normal.

It is true if you are immature, working out bad doctrine, that you will need time to renew your mind and so patience is needed. Jesus tells us to pray and never give up.

However, Paul isn’t saying “less and later,” in the context of this passage. He’s shouting that God “is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to the power that is at work within us.” Superabundantly more! Not less in quantity, not slower in timing—more and faster.

Take sickness as the test case. You pray, “Lord, heal me this week.” The carnal mind adds time qualifiers like a safety net. But Paul’s doctrine? Expect this very instant. Why? Because Jesus healed everyone instantly—blind eyes popped open, demons fled on command, lame men leaped up mid-sentence. No waiting room. No “I’ll get to it.” And Jesus said, “If you’ve seen Me, you’ve seen the Father.” God’s default timing isn’t reluctant patience; it’s immediate, overwhelming, too much power.

Right before verse 20, Paul prays your inner man would be strengthened through the Spirit so you can grasp the height, depth, length, and width of Christ’s love. That’s the key. If looking at God’s love doesn’t convince you of instant miracles and instant help, you don’t yet know His love. You need to renew your mind on what that love actually is—not some vague, sentimental “maybe someday” feeling, but the aggressive, promise-keeping, mountain-crushing force that raised Jesus from the dead.

Get that revelation down deep and your faith gets strong. Then stop hedging your prayers with doubt-filled time clauses. No more “if it’s Your will… in Your timing.” Expect instant answers because you know who He is!

Jesus never gave less or slower—why would the Father?

The God of “immeasurably more” is not slow. He’s ready

*17 But Here’s The Gut-punch

The woman bent over for 18 years—Jesus calls her a “daughter of Abraham,” and on that single fact He declares it was “necessary” for her to be healed (Luke 13:16). Not because He needed to perform a sign to prove His ministry or ink a future contract. No. It was straight-up fulfillment of the ancient promise God swore to Abraham.

That one line drops a wrecking ball on every weak theology that treats healing like a maybe-someday bonus. But stay with me—this isn’t about dismantling cessationism today. It’s about something far more personal and freeing.

Her healing wasn’t waiting on Jesus to show up. It wasn’t waiting on His earthly ministry, a special prayer line, or a new revelation. Everything she needed was already hers the moment she belonged to Abraham’s family by covenant. She had the full “yes” of God baked into her identity. Those eighteen years of staring at the dirt? Completely unnecessary. If she had simply taken the gospel of Abraham by faith in the first month, she could have stood up straight seventeen years and eleven months earlier. Jesus met her that Sabbath and fanned the spark of faith that was already available—but the promise had been hers the whole time.

Same story with the woman who bled for twelve years. She drained her bank account on doctors (huge red flag—she wasn’t seeking the Giver, she was trying to purchase what God only gives). From Eden to Abraham, the pattern never changes: God gives, man receives. Abraham didn’t negotiate or pay for the blessing—he believed. You can’t buy the gospel of Abraham; you can only receive it by faith.

She suffered until the day she heard about Jesus, reached out, and engaged the promise. Her faith saved her on the spot. But here’s the gut-punch: as a daughter of Abraham, she could have been healed the very first day the bleeding started.

Child of Abraham through Jesus—you already are and already have everything you need to be healed. You don’t have to put up with sickness. You don’t have to negotiate with symptoms or audition for what’s already yours. Faith is simply agreeing with God and receiving your true identity.

Stop suffering what you don’t have to. The promise is still speaking. It’s still “necessary.”

*18 Rebuke Like The Book Says

Yet again I heard the charismatics say it is wrong to harshly rebuke and criticize other ministers. The Bible does not teach this. This is a knee-jerk reaction from them, because of all the Reformed heresy hunters coming after them. The prophets, apostles and Jesus all harshly rebuked and cruelly criticized false teachers and ministries. We are commanded to do so.

Today I heard one of them say that you should not correct the doctrine of another minister unless you have a personal relationship with them. This is nonsense. The scripture shows the prophets, apostles and Jesus all rebuking the doctrine of those they had no personal relationships with. The command to privately confront a brother for a wrong is about personal issues and not about false doctrines.

Look, let’s cut through the fluffy nonsense. Jesus didn’t schedule a coffee chat with the Pharisees before dropping “You brood of vipers!” (Matt. 12:34). He didn’t slide into their DMs for a “personal relationship” before calling them whitewashed tombs and sons of hell (Matt. 23). Zero sugar-coating, full harsh-rebuke mode—exactly how He always rolled with false teachers. Paul named names publicly, exposed their doctrines, and told whole churches to stop tolerating that garbage (2 Cor. 11:13-15; Gal. 1:8-9; 1 Tim. 1:20). Elijah mocked the prophets of Baal in front of the entire nation. The Old Testament prophets roasted kings and false priests without a single “Hey, can we grab lunch first?”

The Matt. 18 “go to your brother privately” rule? That’s for personal offenses between you and another believer—not for public false doctrine that poisons the flock. False teaching isn’t your neighbor’s loud music; it’s a wolf in the sheep pen. You warn the sheep first, loud and clear, and also you deal with the wolf. Scripture commands us to expose, mark, and avoid false teachers (Rom. 16:17; Titus 1:13; Eph. 5:11). Love for the church demands it. Love for Jesus demands it.

The charismatics crying “be nice!” are just reacting to the Reformed crowd’s relentless persecution. Fair enough—they get hammered. But don’t let their fear rewrite the Bible. We’re not called to be polite doormats while doctrine gets torched.

Pray in tongues, stay white-hot in love for Jesus (Jude 20-21), then open your mouth and rebuke like the Book says. The elect know the power and the love of God this brings.

Let’s obey the actual commands instead of inventing new ones to dodge the heat. Fire up that rebuke game, saints—the church needs it.

*19 Existence Exists

“Stop wasting time wishing your circumstances were different. It is God who ordained them. Learn how to be faithful in every circumstance…”

Oh, let’s run that pious-sounding advice through the Bible and watch it explode like a dollar-store firework on the Fourth of July.

Hannah, just embrace the childless life and call it God’s perfect will—no temple prayers, no vows, no tears, and definitely no child. Hezekiah, when Isaiah drops the death prophecy, just roll over, die quietly, and let the grave praise Him. Jacob, quit that crazy all-night wrestling match with God; be satisfied with the blessing you already stole and shuffle on without extra blessings, you greedy, blessing-hoarding bastard. Canaanite woman, Jesus already gave you the theologically airtight “dogs don’t get the kids’ bread” argument—stop embarrassing yourself and let your daughter keep foaming at the mouth like it’s open mic night in Gehenna. Those unnamed folks lying in the street hoping Peter’s shadow would heal them? Charismatic man-centered nonsense—just moan in pain for God’s glory. Blind men causing a public scene? Shut up already and beg for coins like good little fatalists. Sinner drowning in addiction? God sovereignly ordained your birth in Adam—be “faithful” in your chains.

This isn’t exaggeration. This is sola circumstances, sola suffering, sola Satan cosplaying as deep spirituality. It’s using God’s decree as an excuse to ignore His commands.

But Jesus Himself tells the parable of the persistent widow who bugs an unjust judge until he caves just to get some peace. “Pray and never give up,” He commands. Even when God sovereignly ordains a bad situation, the ethic is not passive acceptance. The ethic is what Jesus commands: bombard heaven until it changes! The promise attached to the command is that heaven will answer and give you what you ask. That’s the faith the Son of Man will be looking for when He returns—faith that doesn’t roll over, but moves mountains, heals the sick, casts out demons, and turns bad circumstances into miraculous victory laps.

God’s sovereignty is at the same time a comfy blanket to rest under; but it’s also the rocket fuel for bold, persistent faith that tells those God-ordained circumstances to f#@k right off and hurl themselves into the sea.

The faithless love reminding us “God decreed the trial”; but honestly, that doesn’t say much. In the ultimate sense, God causes all things. So saying “God decreed, ordained, or caused X” is basically just saying “something exists.” Since, God causes all things, saying “God decreed X” is like saying “existence exists.” If you’re talking about anything at all, then yeah, it exists—even if it’s only in your imagination. It’s true, but it adds zero new information. God relates to us not through bare causality, but through His commandments and promises.

James says that because of God’s sovereignty and our lack of knowledge, don’t boast about tomorrow—you don’t know what’s going to happen. But James also says that with faith you can have certainty: God will give you wisdom if you ask, and the sick will be healed by a prayer of faith. So if tomorrow you lack wisdom or get sick, you can know for certain that with faith you will receive wisdom and be healed. The faithless twist James’ teaching on God’s sovereignty to cancel out faith and God’s promises: the very things James affirms. James uses God’s sovereignty to motivate us to pray in faith for certain results, like wisdom and healing, not to make us passive.

He also commanded us to use our faith to change the outcome (Matt 21:21, Mark 11:24, John 15:16). The mountain might be God-ordained, but Jesus commands us to speak to it, make it obey us and to get out of our way. This is the Jesus way. This is the Father’s way. And it is our way. Stop divining ethics from your pain like a spiritual Ouija board. Obey God’s commands like a good son or daughter. The command is to get healed, get a son, get a spouse, get a miracle, and get the help you need.

What “God-ordained” trials are you staring at right now? Time to pray in faith like it depends on your obedience—to make that trial shut up and die already.

Sola, Jesus’ Extreme Faith Doctrine.
Sola, obedience to God’s commands.
Sola, God Causes All Things.
Sola, All Things Are Possible for a Man with Faith.

*20  Shadow It & Be Done With It.

Jesus healed all who came to Him. In Acts, those filled with faith the power of the Spirit healed all who came to them. Faith and Spirit so empowered them that even their shadows and handkerchiefs carried the healing virtue of Christ. Peter didn’t have to lay hands or preach a long sermon—his shadow was enough. Paul didn’t have to command the sick to line up; aprons that touched his skin were carried away and diseases left people, evil spirits fled. This is what I call “shadow it and be done with it.” The critics who mock “name it and claim it” preachers are dead wrong—but for the opposite reason. Name it and claim it doesn’t go far enough. When mustard sized faith and baptism of power hits you, you don’t even need to name it. Just walk by and let the shadow do the work. That’s the tangible, unstoppable authority Jesus promised His church.

Think about it. Jesus bore our sicknesses and carried our diseases exactly like He bore our sins (Isaiah 53:4-5). The same substitutionary atonement that makes forgiveness certain makes healing certain.

Peter applied election in Acts 2:38-39—repent and be baptized so that you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The promise is for you, your children, and all whom the Lord our God calls to Himself. Election isn’t a doctrine to debate in a classroom; it’s the guarantee that if God has called you, the faith and power is yours right now to heal the sick and cast out demons. James 5:15 says the prayer of faith will save the sick and the Lord will raise him up. No maybe. No “if it be Thy will.” The same sovereignty that guarantees forgiveness also guarantees healing when you ask in faith without doubting.

Sensory thinking wants you to focus on the pain, the symptoms, the doctor’s report. That’s fleshly nonsense. We focus on the finished work. We focus on the promise that by His stripes we were healed. The baptism of the Spirit is the promise of the Father poured out that makes divine power tangible in the here and now. It’s spiritual physics—flip the switch of faith and reality obeys. You don’t beg God to heal; you command sickness to leave because the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead lives in you.

So get filled. Get baptized in power until your shadow becomes dangerous to the kingdom of darkness. Walk down the street believing the good news that total salvation includes healing, prosperity, and authority over every work of the devil. Lay hands on the sick, send a handkerchief, or just walk by—shadow it and be done with it. Jesus healed all who came. The early church healed all who came. The same promise is for you today. Do not limit God. Believe the good news, receive it by the same faith that receives forgiveness, and watch reality bow.

*21 Carnal Cheeseburgers


Watched the 1995 BBC Pride and Prejudice again—still a delight, but that wedding scene? Oof!

The traditionalist pastor looks the couple dead in the eyes and declares, “Marriage is not the place to satisfy man’s carnal appetites.”

Bro. Did he even read the Bible before putting on the collar?

Carnal, in its basic definition means “of the senses.” God wired us with five of them and then said, “Go enjoy this creation I made for you.” And in the beginning God called all those sugar filled fruit trees and sex as, “good.”

Oneness in marriage is exactly the God-designed place to satisfy those sexual appetites—loudly, joyfully, and often. Song of Songs isn’t some polite metaphor for “Jesus and the church”; it’s an entire book the Holy Spirit titled “The Song of Songs,” celebrating hot, sweaty, sensory-overloaded romance between a man and a woman. The Bible doesn’t blush. It celebrates.

Paul straight-up tells the Corinthians: if you’re burning with lust, get married (1 Cor. 7). Not “pray it away.” Not “just think about heaven.” Get married and enjoy the orgasms.

Think about food for a second. God didn’t give us taste buds so we’d choke down nutrition like robots consuming electricity. He gave us double-bacon cheeseburgers, medium-rare ribeyes, and warm chocolate chip cookies so we’d smack our lips, say “Thank You, Father,” and enjoy the carnal pleasure without crossing into gluttony.

Picture a man holding his double bacon cheeseburger, saliva running down his chin, stomach grumbling, muttering to himself, “I’m not here to gratify my carnal appetites—I only need this for nutrition.” Lol! That guy’s an idiot. Instead, he should thank God and look forward to gratifying those carnal appetites in the right way, without gluttony.

Sex in marriage works the same way. If you’re not looking at your spouse like you look at that burger—with eager anticipation to enjoy and satisfy your carnal desires—you’re both an idiot and disobeying God’s command.

You’re not “using” your spouse any more than you’re “using” your cheeseburger. You’re obeying the Creator who invented pleasure and stamped “very good” on the whole package—and told us to enjoy it with thanksgiving.

If someone is being used, its us being used by God to obey Him by enjoying the good things He made.

The lie that marriage is only for procreation, or only for “higher spiritual purposes,” or only for “dying to self” is straight demon business. It’s the same ascetic garbage that tells Christians they should feel guilty for enjoying anything God made good.

So if you’re single and burning? The Bible’s advice is still the same: either marry and enjoy the feast, or stay single and serve with undivided focus. But once the ring is on? Go enjoy the banquet. God isn’t watching from heaven with a stopwatch and a frown. He’s the One who wrote the menu.

Carnal appetites in marriage? Carnal appetites with food?

Absolutely. With thanksgiving, in the right context, and zero shame.

That’s biblical.

And way more fun than whatever that traditionalist pastor was selling.

*22  Set Apart For God

Exodus 16:22-30.

“He said to them, ‘This is what the Lord has said: Tomorrow is a time of cessation from work, a holy Sabbath to the Lord… See, because the Lord has given you the Sabbath, that is why he is giving you food for two days on the sixth day.’” (NET)

Boom. First mention of the “Holy Sabbath” in Scripture—and it’s not a rulebook lecture. It’s God dumping so much miracle bread on His people that they could stay home, kick their feet up, and cease from work. The double portion wasn’t a cute bonus; it was the very reason the day became holy. God worked overtime so they could rest. That rest, powered by outrageous material provision, set them apart to Yahweh. It made them a cut-above every other people on the planet. Material supply made them more set apart for God. It was sanctification for them. It was holiness. Think about that.

Fools love to cancel blessings with one verse. They’ll spiritualize everything until the only thing left is “well, at least we have Jesus.” But Scripture doesn’t subtract—it stacks. Yes, in Jesus’ atonement He became our spiritual provision: forgiveness, sanctification, adoption, righteousness. Yet the first mention still stands loud and clear: God’s holy Sabbath was birthed in abundant material miracle supply. The spiritual never erases the material; it makes it greater. We get even more miracle material supply now in the finished atonement of Jesus.  

So let’s stop acting like paupers and start acting like the holy people God already calls us. Faith grabs every basket—physical miracles, financial overflow, bodily healing, emotional peace, all of it. When we receive the double (and triple) portion He’s already baked in, we cease from frantic striving and step into the rest that sets us apart.

God isn’t stingy. He’s the ultimate Over-Provider who doubles down so His kids can chill in His goodness. Let’s be true children of God and, by bold faith, obtain ALL His provisions—and in doing so become the holy, cut-above people the world can’t ignore.

 Resisting What Christ Bore

In the arena of faith, where God’s sovereign decrees clash with the feeble whispers of human doubt, Kenneth Copeland’s declaration rings out: “Whatever He bore on the cross we resist!” Amen to that. If we truly grasp the substitutionary atonement of Christ, we’d be fools—nay, anti-Christs in spirit—to promote or tolerate the very curses Jesus shredded His flesh to annihilate. But let’s clarify the battlefield here, lest we swing our swords at shadows. Jesus didn’t die to destroy healing, prosperity, the baptism of the Spirit, the blessing of Abraham, or answered prayers. No, He bore the opposites: sickness, poverty, spiritual drought, the curse of the law, and unanswered cries under bondage. These blessings are the spoils of His victory, already deeded to us in the unmerited contract of grace. To resist what He bore means we stand firm against sickness, lack, demonic oppression, and doubt, claiming by faith what His blood purchased. Anything less is epistemological treason against the revealed Word of God.

We start with the presupposition that God’s revelation is the infallible starting point for all knowledge (2 Timothy 3:16-17). If Scripture is truth and is self-authenticating, says all others are wrong and non-contradictory, then its claims on atonement must logically extend to all aspects of salvation—spiritual, physical, and material. Begin with Isaiah 53:4-5: “Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried… By His scourging we are healed.” Here, “griefs” and “sorrows” translate to sicknesses and pains in the Hebrew, as Matthew 8:17 confirms when Jesus heals the sick to fulfill this prophecy. If Christ bore our sicknesses on the cross, then sickness is not our portion; we resist it as an intruder, an enemy defeated at Calvary. To accept illness as “God’s will” is to call God a liar, for His Word declares the exchange complete. Jesus took the stripes so we could walk in health—why hug the curse when the blessing is ours? We are to look at being sick as the same as we look at committing adultery, murder or theft.

Extend this logic to prosperity. 2 Corinthians 8:9 states, “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, so that you through His poverty might become rich.” Christ’s poverty on the cross wasn’t metaphorical fluff; it was substitutionary. He who owned the cattle on a thousand hills (Psalm 50:10) became destitute to enrich us. The blessing of Abraham, promised in Galatians 3:13-14—”Christ redeemed us from the curse of the Law… so that we would receive the promise of the Spirit through faith”—includes material abundance. Abraham was loaded with wealth (Genesis 13:2), and as his heirs, we’re entitled to the same covenant overflow. Poverty? That’s what Jesus bore. We resist poverty by faith, just as we resist committing sin. We confess provision as per Philippians 4:19: “My God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” If God’s sovereignty decrees abundance for His elect (Ephesians 1:3-14), then lack is a thief’s lie (John 10:10). Satan steals to devour, but we reclaim it, slamming his face into the dirt with Holy Spirit power.

Now, the baptism of the Spirit—oh, how the reprobate trash mocks this! Acts 2:38-39 commands: “Repent, and each of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you and your children and for all who are far off, as many as the Lord our God will call to Himself.” This isn’t optional swag; it’s the empowerment for greater works (John 14:12). Jesus bore the separation from the Spirit in Gethsemane and on the cross (Matthew 27:46), so we could be immersed in His presence. Praying in tongues distinguishes the elect from the mockers (Jude 1:18-21), building up our inner man (1 Corinthians 14:4) and channeling unstoppable power (Acts 1:8). To resist the Spirit’s baptism is to embrace the dryness Jesus endured for us. No, we claim it, speaking mysteries that edify and propel us into the place where miracles are as common as silver in the streets of Solomons reign.

And answered prayers? Mark 11:23-24: “Truly I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and cast into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says is going to happen, it will be granted him. Therefore, I say to you, all things for which you pray and ask, believe that you have received them, and they will be granted you.” Jesus bore the unanswered cries of the cursed (the silence under the law’s bondage), so we could have bold access to the throne (Hebrews 4:16). Doubt and unbelief are what we resist—those fleshly thoughts that prioritize observations over revelation (Romans 8:6). If empiricism says “no healing yet,” we deductively retort: Scripture trumps senses, for the just live by faith, not sight (2 Corinthians 5:7).

But here’s where the rubber meets the road: We’d be anti-Christs if we promoted the curses Jesus destroyed. Imagine preaching sickness as humility or poverty as piety—that’s spitting on the cross! Galatians 3:13 declares redemption from the curse, which Deuteronomy 28 lists as disease, famine, defeat. Promoting these as “God’s refining fire” is worldview prostitution, swapping biblical epistemology for carnal empiricism. Defective epistemologies like empiricism lead to skepticism and death, while faith from Scripture yields life and power. God sovereignly decrees salvation’s total package for His elect (Romans 9:21-23), and faith assents to it, making all things possible (Mark 9:23).

Consider Moses with the Staff of God (Exodus 4:20). God gave him power, but at the Red Sea, Moses whined instead of wielding it (Exodus 14:13-16). God snapped: “Why are you crying out to Me? Tell the sons of Israel to go forward. As for you, lift up your staff!” Deduction: God cares for us by empowering us; and so, begging when we are armed, is faithlessness. Similarly, Jesus gave disciples authority over storms (Mark 4:35-41), yet they accused Him of not caring. He rebuked their “no faith,” for the power was already ours, Psalms 91 already applies to us. Today, we have the name of Jesus, the Spirit’s baptism—why tolerate what He bore?

We are to command restoration in faith, for Joel 2:25 promises God will repay the years the locust ate. Sickness stolen? Command healing. Finances plundered? Declare prosperity. The opposite of what Jesus bore—health, wealth, empowerment—is ours to bless us. They are already deeded in the New Covenant (Hebrews 9:15-17), activated by faith confession (Romans 10:9-10).

Yet, the heresy hunters scoff, calling this “name it and claim it” blasphemy. They’re the reprobates, not having the Spirit (Jude 1:19), distinguishing themselves by mocking tongues and miracles.  Tongues is the litmus test—edifying the inner man, keeping us in God’s love. Cessationists resist the Spirit Jesus poured out, promoting a powerless gospel; they lift up their skirts and expose themselves as faithless.

Brothers and sisters, whatever He bore—sin, sickness, poverty, curse—we resist with faith (Matthew 11:12). We preach the blessings of Jesus Christ: Healing flows, prosperity abounds, Spirit baptizes, Abraham’s favor multiplies, prayers avalanche answers. They are yours—already. Do not fear, only believe.

Aim for the Stars

Aim for the Stars and Faith Will Make You Hit Them

It is sad—borderline tragic—that even Christians have bought the lie to aim low. Most take the vision and desires God planted in their hearts, yank out a shotgun loaded with birdshot, and blast away at a target just beyond their own feet. And guess what? Without surprising anyone, they hit it. Then, to our astonishment, they start patting themselves on the back, congratulating themselves like they just won the Olympics. Most of the time they shoot so low that some of the pellets bounce off the ground and smack them right in the face. They call this “humble” and “suffering under the sovereign hand of God,” as if they accomplished something worth God’s time—or mine—to even notice.

Yet this is exactly the opposite picture Scripture paints. The Bible never spotlights a person who aimed for the dirt with birdshot and then high-fived themselves for a job well done. The Heroes of Faith in Hebrews 11 are the polar opposite. It puts a blinding spotlight on people who pointed their vision at the stars and watched faith rocket their arrow straight to Orion’s Belt. These weren’t cautious calculators; they were bold archers who refused to waste God’s ammunition on pebbles. And God loved it. He still does.

Take the Roman centurion for the masterclass. He was a Gentile outsider, not even under the contracts yet. In his context the ground was all he was supposed to aim for. Remember the Gentile woman? Jesus told her He was sent first to the lost sheep of Israel—it wasn’t her turn. But this centurion marched straight up to Jesus, looked Him dead in the eyes, and pulled his bow back to the moon. “My servant is sick and needs healing.” Jesus’ immediate reply? “You got it, bro—I’ll head to your house right now.” The man aimed for the sky, and faith slammed the arrow into the moon. Boom.

But wait—there’s more. The centurion could have stopped there like any normal person. Jesus had already said yes. Most would have grabbed the miracle and run hoping God wouldn’t change His mind. Not this guy. He looked Jesus in the face a second time, yanked the bowstring all the way to Centauri, and fired again: “Actually, Lord, don’t even bother walking—just speak the word right here, right now.” Imagine the nerve! In today’s church some faith-fumbler would have whispered, “Dude, you already got your miracle—don’t push it. Jesus might get annoyed.” Yeah, right. Jesus’ actual response? Astonishment. Public praise. “I haven’t seen faith like this in all Israel!” He didn’t scold the upgrade request—He celebrated it. The man aimed outside our solar system, and faith delivered. Jesus was all happiness and surprise, like a proud Father watching His kid dunk on the rim and then immediately ask for the NBA.

Put yourself in Jesus’ sandals for a second. Most people are drowning in unbelief. When someone finally scrapes together a thimble of faith, they still aim so low the arrow barely leaves the front yard. But this outsider Roman sized up Jesus, concluded He had absolute authority over reality itself, and instead of wasting time with self-debasing groveling, he asked for a miracle—and then upgraded the request on the spot. Jesus didn’t sigh and say, “Be satisfied.” He marveled. Publicly. Before the whole crowd. That is the God we serve.

The doctrine is as simple as it is explosive: the higher you aim, the more God likes it. Aim for Orion’s Belt and faith will get you there. The moment you land, God beams with delight if you immediately say, “Wait, wait—add Andromeda Galaxy in my other pocket too!” He doesn’t roll His eyes. He boasts about you the same way He boasted about the centurion. You can never aim too high or too often with faith. The only error is aiming too low and too infrequently.

This isn’t some prosperity gimmick; it’s the self-authenticating revelation of Scripture itself—our only starting point for knowledge. God’s Word is His will (Maxim 19). And His will, stated over and over, is that “all things are possible for the one who believes” (Mark 9:23). Not some things. Not safe things. All things. Jesus didn’t stutter when He said, “If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer” (Matthew 21:22). He didn’t add footnotes about aiming low to stay humble. The footnotes are the inventions of men who have never tasted what real faith feels like when it leaves the bowstring.

How about David? Kid with a slingshot stares down a nine-foot giant who had the entire army wetting themselves. David didn’t aim for “maybe I won’t die today.” He aimed for the giant’s forehead and declared, “I come against you in the name of the Lord of Armies!” One stone, one shot, one dead Philistine, and the rest of the army routed. Faith took a shepherd boy’s pebble and turned it into a guided missile that hit the Keyhole Nebula.

Even the woman with the issue of blood aimed high. Twelve years of doctors, twelve years of worse. As a child of Abraham she tried to pay for healing that was freely promised in the contract; and the result was poverty.  Society said stay home and bleed quietly. She said, “If I can just touch the hem of His garment…” She crawled through a crowd that could have stoned her for uncleanness, stretched out her hand, and grabbed healing that wasn’t even on the menu that day. Jesus stopped the whole parade: “Daughter, your faith has healed you.” He called her out publicly so everyone would know—high aim plus relentless faith equals miracles on demand.

This is why Jesus commands us to ask in His name and expect greater works (John 14:12-14). Greater. Not equal, not smaller—greater. The resurrected, enthroned Christ has identified us with Himself so completely that when we speak in faith, reality hears the voice of the Son. That’s not arrogance; that’s agreement with God’s definition of us. We are co-heirs. We are seated with Him. We are the righteousness of God in Christ. Why would we aim at our feet when the throne room is wide open and the King is saying, “What do you want? Ask big—I already paid for it”?

The faithless love to slap a “God’s timing” or “humility” label on their low aim. They call it wisdom. Scripture calls it unbelief, dressed up stupid. The Israelites limited the Holy One of Israel (Exodus 13-14) by their evil report. They could have aimed for the Promised Land in one generation, in one day. Instead they wandered forty years because they aimed at the dirt, and God hated them for it. Don’t repeat their mistake. God is still the same yesterday, today, and forever. His promises are still “yes” in Christ. The only variable is faith and aiming high.

So what will you aim for today? Cancer, diabetes? Aim higher—total eradication, and the healing of your whole family, and a testimony that shakes your city. Debt? Aim higher—supernatural debt cancellation that funds you with 5 houses, and the gospel with 500 houses. Loneliness? Aim higher—a spouse of your dreams and a household that multiplies the kingdom on steroids. Here is the big secret the faithless keeps from you. The dirt is not a starting line, it is the opening to the pits of hell. The stars are not the limit; they’re the true starting line for faith. Yes, Faith will make you hit them, then immediately reload for the next galaxy.

You were born from above, and so you were born for this. You carry the same Spirit that raised Jesus. You have the mind of Christ and the name that makes demons scream and mountains move. Stop aiming for your front yard. Load the bow with the promises of God, pull it back to the stars, and let faith fly. God is not rolling His eyes—He’s already leaning forward with a grin, ready to boast about you the same way He boasted about that Roman outsider.

Aim high. Fire often. Jesus already said all things are possible for the one who believes. The stars are waiting—and God is cheering louder than you can imagine.

The stars never looked so good, nor so close.

Faith: Winning the Path of Wisdom

Picture this: you’re standing on the narrow sidewalk of wisdom, the kind Solomon warned his son about. One wrong step and you plunge into endless darkness. Your blood runs cold at the thought of betraying the King of kings

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. How true this is. The fear of God can be seen in context of Scripture as something more mild as worship or reverence, or your blood turning cold in dread. As King Solomon wrote, paraphrasing ( Proverbs 20:2, & 24:21-22): my son, if you betray the king, expect the wrath of the king. Your blood should turn cold in fear if you betray the king. This is right and good. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and instruction” (Proverbs 1:7, NIV). The same truth echoes in Psalm 111:10 and Proverbs 9:10. Fear is not a one-time emotional spasm; rather, Godly fear, is the strength of mind to get on wisdom’s on-ramp. It keeps your feet planted on the narrow way while the darkness of human speculation yawns on both sides. Step off that sidewalk and you are not merely lost—you are swallowed.

However, the part to remember here is the word “beginning.” The fear of God will cause you to begin to walk on the path of wisdom, and it will keep you on the path without turning to the left or right. Think of a sidewalk and on the sides where the sidewalk ends, it plunges into endless darkness. You do not want to stray off this path.

If fear is the beginning of wisdom, what is the advancement of wisdom?

First, know the love. Paul prayed it for the Ephesians and I pray it for you right now: that you “may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:18-19). Notice the order. It is not your love for God that strengthens your inner man. It is His love for you. When that reality sinks in, you stop focusing on your stumbles and start receiving the fullness of God Himself. You stop crawling and start standing tall in the throne room as a legitimate son who already has a room prepared in the Father’s house. There is no more condemnation. Jesus already took that. Your judgment day is behind you; only grace and a brilliant future lie ahead.

When you know the Father loves you the same way He loves Jesus (John 17:23), your inner man swells like a sail in a hurricane. Prayers that once sounded timid now blast through the heavens. This is not sentimental fluff; it is deductive reality. God said it; therefore it is so. The stronger the inner man, the faster you sprint down the sidewalk of wisdom.

The second turbocharger is faith itself—the Flash of the spiritual realm. Hebrews 11 parades the heroes, not the moralists. Abraham lied about his wife, yet faith made him the father of nations. David committed adultery and murder, yet faith made him a man after God’s own heart. The chapter ends with the summary: “These were all commended for their faith” (v. 39). Why no chapter on “Heroes Who Kept the Marriage Bed Pure”? It is not because a pure marriage bed is unimportant, but without faith it is impossible to please God. (Hebrews 11:6). Faith is the deductive application of God’s revelation to your situation. You take the premise “My word shall not return void” (Isaiah 55:11), add the premise “Whatever you ask in my name will be done” (John 14:13-14), and the conclusion is as certain as 2 + 2 = 4. That is why James 5:15 can say, “The prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up.” No exceptions listed. Faith does not guess; it agrees with God that He is correct when He says, “ 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 ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” (Mark 11:223-24).

You can keep every rule in the book and still be a total disappointment to heaven if you refuse to believe God for healing, wealth, miracles, and power. Without faith it is impossible to please Him. Period. The faithless can polish their halos all day; God is not impressed. But one man who believes “whatever you ask in my name will be given you” (John 15:16) and actually expects it—that man makes heaven cheer.

This is why Peter, right after Jesus predicted his betrayal, still got the same promise as everyone else: “I am going there to prepare a place for you” (John 14:2). Peter fell hard, but he never lost his room in the Father’s house. Jesus restored him in love, and Peter used that restoration to strengthen the brethren. That is what faith does. It turns your worst failure into fuel to win the path of wisdom.

Look at the centurion in Matthew 8. He understood sovereignty better than most theologians I know. “Just say the word,” he told Jesus, “and my servant will be healed.” He saw reality itself obeying Jesus the way soldiers obey a commander. Jesus called that great faith and upgraded the miracle on the spot. The centurion didn’t crawl in fear; he ran straight into the throne room with confidence and walked out with a healed servant. That is how sons advance on the path of wisdom.

And here comes the baptism of power that turns the Flash into a supernova. Jesus commanded the disciples to wait for the Spirit so they would receive power (Acts 1:8). Peter’s first sermon links repentance, forgiveness, and then the gift of the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:38-39). The promise is for you. When that power hits, you do not crawl—you run. Mountains that once loomed now hear your voice and obey (Mark 11:23). Sickness that once mocked you now flees because Satan, not God, is its author (Acts 10:38; Luke 13:16). This is applied eschatology right now: the age of Jesus on the throne, empowering His body to do greater works (John 14:12).

Paul says, “Run in such a way as to get the prize” (1 Corinthians 9:24). Losers sit down in fear and baby-crawl, congratulating themselves on staying “on the path.” Winners blast forward on faith and power. The faithless will tell you otherwise. They will say, “God sovereignly gave you that cancer to teach you something.” That is not sovereignty; that is blasphemy dressed as piety. God is the metaphysical author of all things, yes—my Systematic Theology spells it out in the metaphysics section—but on the relational level where He commands us, He is Healer, not disease Santa. Claiming God authors your sickness is the same as claiming you are an Egyptian or Philistine under direct curse. If you are in Christ, you are under Abraham’s blessing, not Adam’s curse. Jesus already carried those stripes (Isaiah 53:4-5; Matthew 8:17).

The same Spirit that raised Jesus is in you. The same authority that commanded storms to be still is yours. The baptism of the Spirit is not optional decoration; it is the supercharger that turns ordinary Christians into heroes who turn rain off like a faucet (James 5:17-18).

Self-debasement is almost always unbelief dressed up stupid. If someone whines about “God’s mysterious sovereignty” while their congregation stays sick, broke, and powerless—they have already stepped off the sidewalk into the dark. Faith-fumblers peddle endless suffering. They are not walking the sidewalk of wisdom—they are face-down in the ditch, eating gravel and calling it “deep.” They reject baptism in the Spirit, reject healing on demand, reject prosperity as part of the gospel, and then wonder why their prayers hit the ceiling.

Do not follow them. They are blind liars pretending to be wise. If they are not baptized in the Spirit, they have rejected the very power that proves election. If they teach suffering is their teacher, they have rejected the love that strengthens the inner man. Their blood should run cold, because they are leading people to betray the King, and their blood now stains their hands.

Faith applies God’s Word deductively to yourself; faith in this sense is a biblical syllogism applying God’s word to you. It is wisdom in action. You take the premise “God cannot lie” (Titus 1:2), add the premise “By His stripes you were healed” (1 Peter 2:24), and the conclusion is inescapable: I am healed. That is not positive thinking. That is wisdom 101. No induction, no human speculation, no “maybe.” Just “God said, therefore I am.” When you live that way, reality obeys because the same God who spoke the universe into existence has decided that your faith-filled words carry His authority. That is how you run the race to win it.

Paul said, “Run in such a way as to get the prize” (1 Corinthians 9:24). You cannot win by crawling in fear. You win by believing every promise is “Yes” in Christ (2 Corinthians 1:20) and then marching into the throne room like the co-heir you are.

So here is the straight talk. The fear of the Lord put you on the path. Good. Stay on it. But for the love of God, stop sitting there shaking. Get up. Know how wide and deep His love is for you. Then run—flat out—by faith. Believe for the healing. Believe for the miracle. Believe for the financial breakthrough. Believe for the power that makes demons scream and sickness flee. God is not looking for careful crawlers; He is looking for sons who will make Him proud. He wants to point at you one day and say, “That guy right there—he pleased Me. He took Me at My word. He ran the race like a champion.”

The path of wisdom is the path of faith, because faith is simply God’s knowledge applied to yourself with understanding. And on that path there is no condemnation. So fear the Lord—yes. But then run like the Flash in the other direction: straight into the arms of the Father who loves you more than you can imagine and who has already said “yes” to every good thing you will ever ask.

Know His love until your inner man explodes with strength. Then blast down the sidewalk on the rocket fuel of faith, baptized in the same power that raised Jesus from the dead. The finish line is not survival; it is “Well done, good and faithful servant.” The heroes of faith are waiting to cheer you on. The faithless are already tumbling into the darkness they chose. Choose wisely. Run like the Flash. Win the prize. God is pointing at you right now, saying, “This one pleases Me because he has faith.” Let Him be right.

Shout Your Prayers From The Rooftops

By Oshea Davis 

January 25, 2026 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.