Tag Archives: slap

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.

God Made the Gospel First

Let’s dive straight into Genesis, because that’s where God lays out His blueprint for how He operates with us. On the day Adam was created, God had already created the whole world, and then crafted the Garden of Eden—rich, overflowing with gold in Havilah, fruitful trees dangling low-hanging delights, rivers teeming with life, and a landscape screaming abundance. Genesis 2:11-12 doesn’t mince words: gold, bdellium, onyx stones—all there, ready and waiting. God didn’t plop Adam down in a barren wasteland and say, “Earn your keep, buddy.” No, He prepared the whole prosperous paradise first, then created Adam and handed him the keys. Dominion? Check. Wealth management? Absolutely. Adam’s job wasn’t to scrape together provision; it was to steward the riches God had already supplied.

Imagine Adam strolling through, a mango smacking him square in the face, and him turning to Eve with a puzzled look: “Honey, do you think it’s God’s will for me to eat this? Or did God create me so that He could pimp-slap my face with sugary fruit, and then deny it to my stomach?” We’d laugh at such nonsense—it’s sub-animal-level stupid, the kind of delusion that makes you wonder if the guy’s got all his marbles. But that’s exactly how too many Christians approach the gospel today, tiptoeing around blessings like they’re booby-trapped and unsure if they belong to them.

This isn’t some cute analogy; it’s God’s unchanging pattern. He creates the good stuff first—unmerited, lavish, complete—and then gifts it to His people. God’s unmerited favor supplies man; man does not supply God. Adam didn’t sweat for Eden; Eden was ready-made, a divine trust fund dropped in his lap. Fast-forward to Abraham, and you see the same rhythm. Genesis 12:2-3: God promises to bless him, make him great, enlarge his territory—before Abraham lifts a finger beyond faith. And boy, did it pour out: livestock, silver, gold, victories over kings (Genesis 13:2, 14:16). Abraham’s blessing wasn’t piecemeal; it was a pre-packaged explosion of prosperity, miracles, and favor, all because God sovereignly decided to give it by unmerited favor. Paul hammers this in Galatians 3:8-9, calling it the gospel announced in advance: righteousness by faith, and with it, the full blessing kit—including wealth, health, and supernatural power. God didn’t wait for Abraham to prove himself; He prepared the covenant riches first, then called him into it.

Now, zoom in on the gospel itself—the ultimate fulfillment. Ephesians 1:3 blasts it: “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ.” Notice the past tense: “has blessed.” It’s already done, prepped before you were a twinkle in your parents’ eyes. God didn’t scramble to whip up salvation after Adam blew it; no, Revelation 13:8 calls Jesus the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world. The atonement? Finished in God’s mind before creation. The New Covenant? Sealed in blood, with all its perks—forgiveness, righteousness, healing, prosperity, the baptism of power—locked and loaded before you repented. Jesus didn’t die hoping you’d accept; He died knowing the elect would, because God predestined it (Ephesians 1:4-5). The gospel isn’t a reaction; it’s God’s proactive masterpiece, crafted in eternity and unveiled in time. Like Eden, the whole package is ready: low-hanging fruits of healing (Isaiah 53:5), prosperity (2 Corinthians 8:9), and mountain-moving authority (Mark 11:23). They’re slapping believers in the face as we walk by, yet so many stand there debating: “Is it God’s will for me to be healed today? Or does He want me to suffer for character?” Come on—that’s not humility; that’s unbelief dressed in pious rags.

Think about the horror-movie twist some theologians peddle: God dangles milk and honey, then yanks it away with “Not today, kid—builds resilience.” That’s Satan’s playbook, not God’s. I recall a commercial where a guy feasts on cookies, only to find every milk carton empty, realizing he’s in hell. God isn’t a demon toying with us. Jesus’ priesthood seats us in heavenly places (Ephesians 2:6), showering “all spiritual blessings”—which spill over into material reality because spiritual power is the parent cause for all motions in the material world. Abraham’s blessing? Yours now, including wealth and health (Galatians 3:14). Jesus’ atonement? It swapped your poverty for His riches, your sickness for health—not metaphorically, but really (Matthew 8:17). In God’s sovereign thoughts, it’s already transferred. God’s Word is His will. No guesswork—He said it, so agree with Him. Confess it.

Reprobates and faith-fumblers love complicating this. They focus on men—Adam’s fall, Abraham’s tests, your failures—and ignore God’s preemptive grace. They do this because reprobates focus on men; Christians focus on God. They say, “Prosperity? That’s greedy, but God has called us to suffer nobly.” However, that’s glorifying the curse, siding with the thief who steals and destroys (John 10:10). Jesus came for abundant life—now, not just pie-in-the-sky. In the Garden, provision was effortless; in Christ, it’s the same. Faith isn’t earning; it’s receiving what’s already given. James 1:17: Every good gift comes from the Father, unchanging. He prepared the gospel’s riches—forgiveness to wipe your slate, righteousness to make you bold, healing to crush Satan’s works, prosperity to fund kingdom expansion—then sovereignly called you into it. God didn’t leave it to chance; He predestined your reception.

What does low-hanging fruit look like? Jesus says, “Your faith has healed you” (Mark 5:34). In the gospel, as in the Garden, prosperity is slapping your face. That is, if Adam was walking in the Garden stuffed with trees filled with fruit, they would be brushing up against him as he walked. The same is with the gospel already being finished and God placing us in it. If you walk around in the gospel, the fruit will be brushing up against you. The only way it won’t is if you are filled with unbelief and doubts. If you are walking by faith in the gospel, then take what God has already given you. Don’t let God’s blessings smack you in the face and keep walking by, disrespecting God’s goodness as if it was of little value.

Confess Deuteronomy 8:18: God gives power to create wealth. Miracles? Ask and receive. You even have the option to command miracles. Jesus has already made you a royal priesthood, who is privileged to use His name and ask for anything you want. This is already your reality. You are already the righteousness of God in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:21), co-heir with Jesus (Romans 8:17). Therefore, walk boldly and approach the throne (Hebrews 4:16); ask and receive. If doubt creeps in, resist it like the devil it is—fleeing required (James 4:7).

In my own trek, losing my twin Joshua could’ve derailed me into poverty theology. But no—God’s prepped gospel held: healing for grief, provision amid loss. I poured faith into pages, birthing my Systematic Theology, because blessings don’t wait for perfect circumstances; rather, they are already given and my possession by grace. Don’t join the faithless jerks, tossing God’s goodness into the trash. Agree with God by confessing: “The gospel is already mine; Jesus has already given His righteousness recorded to my account by grace. I already have the blessing of Abraham. I already am a royal priesthood. I’m already sitting in the heavenly places with Jesus above all names and times. I already have the same power that raised Jesus from the dead working and flowing in and out of me. I already have the rivers of living waters flowing out of me. I already have the Name of Jesus engraved on my tongue.”

Pluck those fruits; they’re slapping you in the face for a reason. I will give you a hint. God put them face level, not for you to ram your face into them, but to make it easy for you to pluck them and ram them down your throat.