Tag Archives: hero

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.

Jesus the Healing Hero – IS the Gospel

Right from the opening pages of the Bible, God doesn’t ease in with pleasantries. He drops the declaration of war and victory in the same breath. After the fall, He turns to the serpent and says, “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel” (Genesis 3:15). Think about that for a second. Before Adam and Eve even finish sewing their fig leaves, God is already pointing to Jesus—the promised Seed—and saying, “This Hero is coming to end you.” Satan gets a bruised heel. Jesus gets total conquest. That’s the opening scene of the whole story. The protoevangelium is not some poetic footnote; it is the explosive launch sequence of redemptive history, the first unmistakable shout that the Seed of the woman would march straight into the fight and settle the score once and for all.

Satan didn’t charge in like some obvious monster. The coward used lies. “Did God really say?” he whispered, and the doubt took root (Genesis 3:1). They ate, and God kept His word exactly as He said He would. The curse hit creation hard—thorns, pain, death, the whole mess (Genesis 3:16-19). And from that day forward the devil has exploited it nonstop, hammering people with his favorite dirty weapon: sickness. It’s how he oppresses, how he victimizes, how he keeps humans under his thumb. Sickness isn’t neutral. It’s bad. Straight-up evil. Let’s be real—Scripture never once calls disease a helpful life coach or a mysterious divine favor. Jesus looked at that woman bent double for eighteen years and named the culprit outright: “Satan has kept her bound” (Luke 13:16). John 10:10 draws the battle line with zero ambiguity: the thief steals, kills, and destroys; Jesus brings life to the full. The fingerprints don’t lie.

That’s why when Peter stands up for the very first official gospel sermon to Gentiles in Acts 10, he doesn’t start with abstract theology. As Vincent Cheung points out in “The Dividing Line,” Peter tells the classic hero-versus-villain story God loves telling. “God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power, and how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him” (Acts 10:38). Satan is the bad guy. Sickness is his bad tool. Jesus the Hero shows up anointed with power and starts setting people free from it—one healing after another. God is perfectly happy framing the good news this way. No need to complicate it. The simple showdown works just fine. Peter could have opened with justification by faith or the doctrine of election—glorious truths, no argument there—but the Spirit led him to lead with power and healing, because that is how the gospel first detonated into the Gentile world. Goodness and healing are welded together in the same sentence. Oppression and the devil are welded together in the same sentence. The Bible refuses to separate them, and frankly, neither should we.

Peace comes through violence and conquest, not some polite negotiation. The Son of God appeared for this very reason—to destroy the works of the devil (1 John 3:8). He didn’t just rescue us from the judgment we deserved; He yanked us out of the original villain’s grip too. Forgiveness? Yes. But also tangible freedom right now. Notice Satan’s go-to weapon is always sickness. That’s bad. Healing is good. Jesus healing every single person oppressed by the devil is the Bible’s hero story preached at the launch of Gentile ministry. Matthew 8:16-17 makes the connection unmistakable: “He drove out the spirits with a word and healed all the sick. This was to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet Isaiah: ‘He took up our infirmities and bore our diseases.’” The cross wasn’t only about sin. The same atoning work that substituted guilt for righteousness, substituted sickness for healing. Isaiah 53:4-5 and 1 Peter 2:24 stand shoulder to shoulder—by His wounds you have been healed. The Greek tenses shout finished reality. Not “maybe someday.” Not “if it’s God’s will in some vague sense.” Healed. Period.

Picture the devil showing up at the cross like a landlord waving an overdue rent notice marked “sickness stays forever,” and Jesus just rips the contract in half, spikes it to the wood with the nails, and laughs out loud while every demon in the vicinity does the fastest tactical retreat in history. The same Spirit and power that rested on Him to destroy oppression now rests on us. Stop playing victim to a defeated snake. You’re seated with the Hero who crushed his head (Romans 16:20). The devil is not your personal trainer. He is a conquered foe whose only remaining strategy is to convince you the fight is still fair. It isn’t—come on, the head is already crushed.

The faithless try to muddy the water with their “maybe God is using sickness to teach you” nonsense. That’s like cheering for the villain in the movie because it “builds character.” Dumb. Jesus already bore our sicknesses and carried our pains so we wouldn’t have to. By His stripes we are healed. It’s like the devil is still trying to collect rent on a house Jesus already foreclosed on, burned to the ground, and turned into a victory bonfire while the angels roasted marshmallows over the flames. The same Spirit and power that rested on Him to destroy oppression now rests on us. Stop playing victim to a defeated snake. You’re seated with the Hero who crushed his head (Romans 16:20).

Command that sickness to leave in Jesus’ name. Lay hands on the sick and expect recovery (Mark 16:17-18). Believe like the victory is already yours—because it is. The gospel is still advancing through power, healing, and authority in Christ. Live it out loud. The Hero won the war. Now go enforce the victory.

Let me press this a little deeper, because the stakes are eternal. When Jesus sent out the Twelve and then the Seventy-two, He gave them authority over all the power of the enemy and told them to heal the sick (Luke 9:1-2; 10:9). That commission did not expire at the end of the first century. The same Jesus who walked the shores of Galilee is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). The same Spirit who raised Him from the dead lives in every believer (Romans 8:11). If sickness were somehow God’s loving tool, then Jesus would have been working against the Father every time He healed someone. That is theological insanity. The Father anointed the Son precisely to destroy what the devil had built. Every miracle was a preview of the age to come crashing into the present. Every healing was a declaration: the kingdom is here, the curse is broken, the Hero has arrived.

When Christians remain in sickness, besetting sins, broken relationships and poverty, it is Satan’s middle finger at God shouting, that Jesus’ kingdom is not here and the curse is not broken and the Hero did not arrive.

Some will object that not everyone gets healed instantly. Fair observation, however, because it is based on observation it is logically irrelevant for knoweldge. Notice what Jesus never did: He never blamed the Father for the delay. He never told the sick to embrace their condition as a gift. He blamed unbelief when it blocked the flow (Mark 6:5-6), and He trained His disciples to keep pressing until faith rose. Paul left Trophimus sick, not because sickness was God’s will, but because the apostolic team was on mission and timing mattered (2 Timothy 4:20). Yet the same Paul commanded the church at Corinth to examine itself so they would not be weak or sick (1 Corinthians 11:29-30). Sickness was the exception to be judged and removed, not the rule to be celebrated. The New Testament pattern is relentless: preach the gospel, heal the sick, cast out demons, raise the dead. That is not optional flavor. That is the normal Christian life.

Think about the woman with the issue of blood. She had suffered for twelve years, spent everything on doctors, and grew worse (Mark 5:25-26). The doctors could not help because the real oppressor was not a germ or a hormone—it was the kingdom of darkness. She touched the hem of Jesus’ garment and was healed instantly. Jesus called her “daughter” and sent her away in peace. That is the gospel in miniature. The Hero sees the victim, feels compassion, and ends the oppression on the spot. He is still doing it. The same power that flowed through His robe now flows through His body on earth—you and me. The same power that raised Jesus from the dead and put Him above all names, times and places is the same power the works in us who believe (Eph 1:19-21).

So grab your spiritual eviction notice, look that defeated snake square in the eye, and say, “Not today, not tomorrow, not ever again—your lease was canceled at Calvary, and the new Landlord is moving in with healing, power, and zero tolerance for your sh@t.” The gospel is not a theory to be debated in seminaries. It is power to be demonstrated in streets, homes, and everywhere. Peter preached it that way to Cornelius’ house, and the Holy Spirit fell while he was still speaking (Acts 10:44). The same thing can happen when you open your mouth with the same message.

The devil has had two thousand years to refine his lies, but the Hero has already crushed his head, and God’s truth is indomitable. The blood still speaks. The name still works. The Spirit still moves. Sickness is still bad. Healing is still good. And Jesus the Healing Hero is still the gospel.

 Watch the kingdom advance exactly as it did in the book of Acts. The victory is already yours. Now go enforce it with joy, with boldness, and with the full expectation that the same HERO who healed all who were oppressed by the devil, is now sitting at the Power’s right hand, doing it through you.

Christian Sex Ought To Be the Envy Of The World

A few quick thoughts on sex.

I have never heard a pastor preach a sermon on sex and how much sex we ought to have, without negating the scripture with their experience. Imagine me saying, “after you have worked through your emotional history and talked out your disappointments and after you have visited the doctor, then you are to obey God and repent of your sins.” Or imagine if I said, “after a person has warmed you up with nice words, then you are to love them as yourself.” Most would recognize the error of this. We are to obey God’s commands regardless of our feelings, history or any other excuse. The compassionate thing to do, is to tell someone to obey God regardless of anything else. We are promised if we obey, God will reward and bless us.

When you read “breaking of bread” it sometimes refers to the church taking the lord’s supper, such as Acts 2:42. When you take of the Lord’s supper you are remembering His substitutionary atonement for you. Jesus in John 17 refers to His sanctifying work results in Him and His people becoming “one,” and prays that we become one with Him and the Father. We are also told we are “one spirit” with Jesus in Corinthians 6. The context of this passage is about sex. We are warned not to be one flesh with someone not our spouse, because we are one spirit with Jesus. Sex is the act of being one flesh. It is the only way to be one flesh. Although this chapter is spoken of in the negative we can draw out some general presuppositions or doctrines.

The way the New Testament speaks of breaking of bread, as referring to communion, we understand they did it often, if not daily. By partaking of the Lord’s supper, it is a reminder we are one spirit with God. By faith, when we partake of the Lord’s supper, we do, or behave as one spirit with Him. However, beyond the Lord’s supper, every time we focus our faith on Jesus Christ, every time we praise Him in faith, every time we have our morning devotional, every time we pray in tongues, every time we approach God’s throne to ask and receive, we behave as one spirit with God. Faith in God is our acting like one spirit with God. A Christian who is faithful in His love to God, frequently behaves as one spirit with God.

If we consider the commandment of God to be one flesh, unlike the multitude ways to apply faith with God, there is only one way to be one flesh. This is sex. It is not mainly about having children, but the command is firstly and simply, to be one flesh in pleasure. Imagine only having faith in God one time a week? How about once a month? I would be hard pressed to say a person who only had one moment of faith in God a month, could still be called a Christian. A healthy disciple of Jesus is frequently placing their faith in God, and by this, they are constantly being one spirit with God.

The amount of sex is only determined by one thing, as it is for everything else regarding Christian ethics. It is determined by the command of God. The command is to be and act like one flesh. There is only one way to do one flesh. There is no excuse to make God’s commands not apply to you.

There is an entire book in the bible about sexual attraction and sex. Solomon is like the protagonist of a hero story. His heroic adventure is about sex with his wife. A husband’s sexual escapades with his wife is the bible’s hero story. Solomon gives a public call for us to gather in the public square to hear Solomon describe his sexual adventures with his wife. This book is to be our example as well. It is a command to follow the biblical examples. Also, if we consider that most fasts are only a day, or a few days, we realize the presupposition of scripture is frequent sex, because it says to come back quickly so that Satan does not tempt you (1 Corin. 7:5).

So far, we have mainly focused on the positive way to obey God’s command to be one flesh by sex; however, there is more. The scripture says that when you are married you give up the rights of your body and give those rights to your spouse. If one spouse wants sex, the other spouse has given up the rights to say no. You cannot say, “well, then I want my spouse’s body not to want sex.” If you play that game, then you have an infinite regress, and the verse has no meaning. If you cannot obey God, then it is better not to marry. The reason we repent of our sins and ask God to save us, is because God commands us (Acts 17:30). Christian behavior and ethics is determined by only one thing, which is God’s command.

In all this we never negate the situation where a spouse is sick and needs help. If one gives selfish demands in this situation, they are worse than an unbeliever. However, to be sick is a curse and an attack of Satan (Acts 10:38). One reason the devil attacks us with sickness, is that we are busied helping our family, rather than devoting our time to serve God and expand His kingdom. One strategy used in war is to injure soldiers rather than kill them, because healthy soldiers are taken away from fighting to help the wounded. Satan does the same in his fight against Christians with sickness, injuries, and cancers. We are commanded to be healed, just as much as we are commanded to praise God, James 5:15. James is not commanding that we pray, but is commanding we get healed. It is not optional to apply or reject the gospel, and healing is part of the gospel. Other things can be the gospel, such as forgiveness, however something cannot be more gospel than healing is. Because healing is the gospel and we are commanded to be healed, it is wrong to stay sick. It is wrong to allow Satan to steamroll over you with sickness and pains, and by this force others in prolonged care of you, when they could use their time in serving God. You are commanded to do the opposite. You are to storm the gates of hell and tear them down. You are to heal the sick, cast out demons, raise the dead, and set the prisoners free. Thus, staying sick or in pain is no excuse to not have sex. It is wrong not to constantly be one flesh for the act of pleasure.

If you read Song of Solomon you realize Christian sex and orgasms, ought to be the envy of the world.

God will boast about you!

Hey,

I don’t know you personally, so I’ll keep this straightforward. I’m praying for you right now. I’m genuinely glad you see your wrongs and want to fix them. That kind of honest self-awareness and hunger for God’s restoration? Guard it with everything you’ve got. It’s solid evidence your soul is alive in Christ.

If you’ve read my older essay “God Rekindles Smoldering Wicks,” you already know I once wrestled with crushing depression—close enough to the edge that suicide looked like an escape hatch. I know the war inside the soul. The only thing that pulled me out was a relentless, daily feast on God’s promises and His unbreakable definition of me as His child in Jesus. I still chew on those verses almost every single day. They’re my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Vincent Cheung gave me that basic but life-saving advice, and it worked.

That same fire led me to take the Lord’s Supper often, reminding me I don’t give to God—God gives to me. He is my rich supplier, by great benefactor, my breadwinner, my Savor in all things. That is the gospel. I stack faith-filled devotions and materials into my routine throughout times a day, with faith confessions and praying in tongues. It’s not complicated—it’s fuel for the soul. Your inner man is not made strong by your love to God, but by you receiving how much God loves you (Eph 3).

Which brings me to something that jumped out in your note: that line about being a “good little Clark or Cheung.” It concerned me, brother. It sounded like your mind defaults to men first, not God. I’m not calling your salvation into question, but in my experience, when folks talk that way, the natural drift of their thoughts is still man-centered instead of centered on Jesus sitting on His throne. If you want out of the pit—and to stay out—you’ve got to put off that old man and put on the new one. Renew your mind until it becomes second nature to see yourself as a prince standing boldly in the very throne room of Almighty God.

When I was clawing my way out of that darkness, I didn’t obsess over Vincent, Clark, or any other teacher. I pounded my mind with Scripture until God’s Word became the loudest voice in the room. From that foundation I prayed and confessed exactly what God says I am and everything He’s already blessed me with. I also learned to stand in faith and command demonic oppression and lying thoughts to leave in Jesus’ name. I could have memorized every word Vincent Cheung ever wrote, but when I approach the Father, none of that matters. What matters is that I see myself as the righteousness of God in Christ, so that this throne is a throne of grace and favor for me. Vincent, Clark, nor any man can help me or do this for me; they cannot do this for you either. What matters are the gospel-bought promises and the immovable stance of faith in them. When I step into that majestic throne room—surrounded by spiritual beings, saints, and angels—I come clothed in the perfect righteousness of Jesus Christ, who loves me exactly as He loves His own Son. That’s my faith. That’s my victory shout. You need to get to this place: approaching God feels more natural and reflexive than running to any human advisor.

Both through a divine vision God gave me and through Vincent’s counsel, I shifted my study diet. I still love theology—God commands us all to pursue it—but my greater focus became building inner spiritual strength through faith-based devotionals.

Systematic Theology is easy. Seriously, it’s super easy! (This doesn’t mean there isn’t an occasional point where it can feel a little complicated.) The older I get, the more I realize this. Once you know it, no one and no demon can steal it from you. Men shouldn’t strut around like they’ve conquered Everest for simply grasping God’s absolute sovereignty. It’s as simple as “All things are things directly and absolutely controlled by God.” This is a major premise of a syllogism that a five-year-old can grasp and apply in basic deduction. So it’s not an intellectual point to boast about—because it’s that easy. Should you boast about adding 2 + 2 = 4? Sure, if you’re a five-year-old.

But faith? Ah, now that’s something worth boasting about—because God Himself boasts about it! If you have faith like the heroes in Hebrews 11, the world wasn’t worthy to know them. That’s the kind of life worth boasting about.

Remember the Gentile woman or the Roman centurion? Jesus basically said, “This isn’t My will right now,” yet they grabbed the blessing anyway with raw, stubborn faith. And what did God do? He publicly praised them! With that kind of faith, God will boast about you. Think about that for a second. Instead of wasting breath boasting about teachers or systems, live so boldly in God’s promises that the King of the universe stands up from His throne, points His finger at you, and brags on you. His approval is the only praise worth chasing. Be a hero of faith.

Every day I still read devotionals from those “health-and-wealth, word-of-faith” preachers everyone loves to mock. I don’t recommend them for deep systematic theology (that’s where my book Systematic Theology 2025 – and Vincent’s work shine), but for taking God’s promises of faith, healing, deliverance, and blessing with deadly seriousness? They’re the only crew doing it right. They believe the Bible means what it says. I also want to give you permission to believe Jesus. The faithless will do all they can to tell you that Jesus did not really mean what He said. But I am here to tell you, “Yes—God did say.” You have my permission to believe Him, even when the faithless will not.

Vincent encouraged me to step away from my old Reformed church and zero in on spiritual strength through God’s Word and faith materials. That counsel, plus the vision God gave me, changed everything. I pass the same advice to you. It’s not a side quest—it’s the main highway out of the pit, the guardrail that keeps you out, and the launchpad that plants you on the mountaintop where God grabs your hand and delivers you from every trouble. He promised it. He sealed it in blood because He wanted to. He likes you.

Listen closely: God’s promises aren’t polite suggestions. They are the technical definition of who His children are. Think carefully about this! They are you! Turn your mind to this truth until it’s automatic. When those promises—seeing yourself in your new identity—become second nature, you’ll suddenly find yourself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with God on Mount Zion, looking down on every problem like it’s already defeated. God will point to the endless horizon and say, “All of this is yours.” Fix your eyes on the Jesus of the Gospels and Acts—He never left. He’s right there waiting for you.

So rise up, prince. Stop settling for man’s applause when the Father is ready to boast about you. Grab those promises with both hands, stand in the throne room, and watch God show off how much He loves to celebrate His faithful ones.

In the conquering name of Jesus, Oshea Davis