Tag Archives: victory

Fully Faithless

Mike Winger posted on Facebook, March 27, 2026: 

“Jesus never promised us prosperity in this world.

He promised tribulation and His peace through it.”

That’s half-true and fully faithless. Full-On Faith Fail.

 Yes, Jesus said, “In the world you will have tribulation” (John 16:33). But faithless preachers pounce on that single line like it’s the whole sermon and then ghost the rest of what He actually said: “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace… But take courage; I have overcome the world.” They turn victory into a defeatist bumper sticker. They recite the problem and call it the promise. That’s not preaching the gospel — that’s dressing up a gospel of suffering in fake humility and calling it deep. 

As Vincent Cheung nailed it in “In This World, We Will Have Victory” (paraphrased): “Jesus didn’t emphasize suffering. He emphasized triumph. The mention of tribulation was only to provide context for the victory. The statement would substantially mean the same thing if He had simply said, ‘In this world, you will have victory,’ or ‘Have courage, for I have overcome the world.’ He even commanded ‘take courage’ so no one could miss the point. Yet these guys camp out on the negative like it’s their favorite doctrine.

Jesus never said, “In the world you will have tribulation — now get used to it, embrace your broke-down car and doctor bills, and call your lack ‘godly suffering.’” No. He sandwiched the tribulation between two massive pillars of victory: peace in Him and courage because He has already overcome the world. The tribulation gets mentioned only to be swallowed alive by the triumph — like a thousand-dollar parking ticket obliterated by a three-trillion-dollar inheritance. To dwell on the negative isn’t humility; it’s rebellion. It’s the reprobate hermeneutic — the perverse habit of faithless religion that seizes problems and ignores promised solutions.” 

And here’s the fun part (because faith should feel victorious, not like a never-ending rain check): Jesus did promise prosperity — real, tangible, this-life prosperity — through His substitutionary atonement. “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” (2 Corinthians 8:9). That’s not spiritual poetry. That’s cold, hard cash, health, victory, and abundance. 

God has always been the God of overflow: from Eden’s garden party, to Abraham’s gospel of blessing, to Jesus redeeming us from the curse so we walk in the blessing of Abraham (Galatians 3:13-14). Abraham wasn’t scraping by — he was exceedingly wealthy. The curse included poverty, sickness, and defeat. The blessing is the exact opposite. Boom. 

To say “He never promised us prosperity” is to hate the very nature of the Father who gives lavishly. It’s to call the atonement incomplete. It’s to romanticize suffering the way unbelievers do — turning the cross into an excuse for why your miracles are MIA. That’s a doctrine of demons. The cross was substitutionary so “we” wouldn’t have to carry what Jesus already carried. Only *His* suffering was romantic, because it was purposeful. Ours is usually just the rotten fruit of unbelief. 

Vincent Cheung reminds us in “Our Prosperity in God’s Program” (paraphrased): “Your suffering often hinders God’s program from moving forward. When you suffer, you cause others to suffer. But when God’s people succeed by faith — praying shamelessly for whatever they need and want — His program advances. God succeeds when His people succeed. Refusing prosperity inflicts damage on multitudes. It is stupid.”

Look at 3 John 2: “Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers.” The apostle John, under the Holy Spirit, doesn’t merely wish it — he presents it as the normal expectation for souls prospering in truth. Psalm 35:27 says God takes pleasure in the prosperity of His servant. Deuteronomy 28 lists blessings of cities, fields, livestock, children, and victory over enemies as covenant inheritance. Jesus Himself declared, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly” (John 10:10). The Greek ”perissos” means superabundant, excessive, overflowing. Not pie-in-the-sky afterlife stuff. Life “now,” in the power of the resurrected Christ. 

You’ll twist the Bible to call poverty and sickness “holy” and a “badge of honor.” That’s the seeker-friendly gospel of suffering — it gaslights deprivation as devotion and trains people to feel spiritual through misery. It is perverse. It is a conspiracy against the promises of God. 

Tribulation comes? Sure. From the world, the flesh, and the devil. But the believer doesn’t park there like it’s a scenic overlook. We cheer in the middle of it because faith treats God’s promise as already done — like the walls of Jericho crumbling while we’re still marching and high-fiving. Peace isn’t stoic endurance through endless loss; peace is Satan crushed under our feet now (Romans 16:20). The Christian life is victory from faith to faith, glory to glory, prosperity to prosperity. Anything less is unbelief wearing a fake halo. 

When Jesus sent out the disciples, He commanded them to heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, and cast out demons (Matthew 10:8). That commission has not been revoked. The same Spirit who raised Christ from the dead lives in every believer (Romans 8:11), and He is not on vacation. To claim God wants His people perpetually sick, broke, or oppressed “for His glory” is to blaspheme the Father who “gives good gifts” (Matthew 7:11) and who delights in the prosperity of His servant. Jesus didn’t say we would do less works than Him, but greater. 

God is sovereign over all things, including tribulation. But sovereignty doesn’t mean He authors defeat as the Christian default. Sovereignty means He controls even the attacks of the enemy and turns them for our good (Romans 8:28). Faith is not passive endurance of misery; faith is the active insistence on what God has promised. When tribulation hits — and it will — our response isn’t to quote “Jesus never promised prosperity” like a spiritual participation trophy. Our response is to stand on the full counsel of God and declare, “Because He has overcome the world, I will prosper in all things and be in health, just as my soul prospers.” 

This is why Winger’s half-truth is so sneaky. It offers “peace through tribulation” while quietly pickpocketing the very promises that make that peace possible. Without the promises of prosperity, healing, and victory, “peace through tribulation” becomes mere fatalism — the peace of the graveyard, not resurrection power. It is zombie theology. True biblical peace is the peace that passes understanding (Philippians 4:7), the peace that guards our hearts because we have made our requests known to God with thanksgiving, believing He gives us what we ask. 

So no, Mike — Jesus didn’t promise us a life of managed disappointment and “peace through it.” He promised us the overcoming life, the abundant life, the rich life — because that’s what His blood purchased. Reject that and you’re not being humble. You’re rejecting the gospel itself. Receive it by faith or keep preaching defeat. There’s no third option. 

Winger’s line is popular because it flatters the flesh. It lets Christians stay spiritual babies, blaming “God’s will” for their lack instead of repenting of unbelief. It sounds humble: “I don’t expect much from God in this life.” Scripture calls that cowardice, not humility. The humble man believes what God has said, no matter how great. The proud man limits God to fit his experience. 

If you’ve been living under this half-truth, it’s time to repent. Stop quoting only the tribulation part like it defines your destiny. Start quoting the victory part as the definition of your identity in Christ. “In this world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” That overcoming includes prosperity for the advance of your own joy and the kingdom, healing for your own happiness and the display of His mercy, and peace the world cannot give or take away.  The gospel was predestined for your glory.

This is the gospel I preach. This is the faith I defend. Anything less is not the faith once for all delivered to the saints. Let the half-truths be exposed. Let the full truth of Scripture be proclaimed. And let every believer rise up in the name of the Overcomer, prospering in all things for the glory of God. 

Now go confess it, pray in tongues till it burns, and watch the mountains move.

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.

The God of Peace Will Crush

Ah, the God of peace—sounds like a serene deity lounging on clouds, doesn’t it? But flip open your Bible, and you’ll see He’s more like a divine general, marching into battle with a strategy that leaves enemies flattened. Romans 16:20 declares our thesis statement plainly: “The God of peace will crush Satan under your feet shortly. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you. Amen.” Notice it was not under God’s feet, but your feet. When Satan eyes meet yours, it should be when he is crushed under your feet. This is the only correct position for Satan to meet your gaze.  

Jesus Himself chimes in from John 16:33: “These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” This isn’t some fluffy, feel-good tranquility; it’s peace forged in victory, the kind that comes when God stomps out what’s troubling you. If your idea of peace is just a balanced brain chemistry or a quiet afternoon without the kids yelling, you’re missing the biblical punch. God’s peace is intellectual and material—your mind aligns with His unbreakable promises, stabilizing your whole being, and then reality bends to match, with enemies crushed underfoot. Peace comes through war, blood and triumph.

Let’s unpack this. The Bible hammers home that true peace arrives through conquest, destruction of foes, or flipping former adversaries into allies. You don’t get heart-peace by ignoring the chaos; you get it because God removes the chaos-causer, by destroying it. The enemy isn’t politely asked to leave—he’s demolished. Joshua 21:43-45 spells it out: God handed Israel the promised land, giving them “rest on every side” after delivering enemies into their hands. No foe stood against them because God fulfilled every promise. Rest? Peace? It came post-victory, after the dust settled from crushed opposition. Or take 2 Samuel 7:1: Once David was palace-settled, “the Lord gave him rest from all his enemies around him.” God’s provision of peace followed conquest, not some mystical inner glow detached from reality.

Then there’s 1 Chronicles 22:9, where God promises David a son of peace: “I will give him rest from all his enemies on every side.” Solomon’s reign would embody this—peace through subdued threats. Even Proverbs 16:7 adds a twist: “When a man’s ways please the Lord, he makes even his enemies to be at peace with him.” God doesn’t just crush; sometimes He recalibrates relationships, turning rivals into reluctant allies. But make no mistake, it’s His sovereign hand at work, not some human diplomacy. This isn’t a chemical brain balance or anti-intellectual fuzziness. No, God’s peace is rooted in logic and substance: your mind assents to His truths and promises, renewing your propositional framework to be stable and healthy. That’s why Philippians 4:7 calls it “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding”—not because it’s beyond intellect, but because His promises blanket every life scenario. You might not eyeball the “how” in a tough spot, but faith knows He’ll deliver peace. It will happen.

Jesus embodies this perfectly. He overcame the world, so we cheer amid tribulation. Think Jericho: marching and trumpeting wasn’t busywork; it was praise rooted in promise. God vowed victory, so those walls were toast before the first lap. They praised pre-fall because faith treats God’s word as done deal. God crushed those walls under their feet, bringing peace. Paul’s line in Romans labels God “of peace” precisely because He’ll “soon crush Satan under their feet.” Not in some distant heaven, but here, now. Heaven will be a place of peace, because all enemies will be crushed. Crushing enemies “is” the act of peace-bringing. Jesus nailed this at the cross, pulverizing sickness, poverty, curses—the lot. It’s done. Isaiah 54:17 echoes: “No weapon formed against you will prosper.” Weapons form—tribulations like demons, illness, lack—but cheer up! Jesus defeated them; by faith, they’re soon underfoot.

Don’t get me wrong; this peace starts intellectual, in the mind’s assent to God’s guarantee, but it spills into flesh and circumstance. We praise pre-victory, as with Jericho, because faith’s useless post-fact. It’s for the “before,” fueling praise that knows enemies will crumble, yielding total peace. Peace without crushed foes? That’s non-biblical bunk, a counterfeit calm that leaves Satan smirking.

Dig deeper into Scripture, and this crushes any watered-down view. Isaiah 45:7 has God declaring, “I form light and create darkness; I make peace and create evil; I am Yahweh; I do all these things.” Peace isn’t accidental—God authors it, often through calibrated calamity for the reprobate and triumph for His elect. No weapon prospers against you, but they do form. The promise is simple. With faith the weapons will be ineffective against you. God did not send those people to attack you, and so you are free to condemn them in the name of Jesus and crush them under your feet.  For reprobates, even sunshine fattens them for slaughter (Psalm 73). But for us, temporary trials and forged weapons against us, yield an opportunity for easy game XP for our level ups.

Look at Colossians 1:19-20: “For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him to reconcile all things to Himself, having made peace through the blood of His cross.” Peace via bloodied conquest—Jesus reconciling by demolishing sin’s divide. Or Romans 5:1: “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Justification swaps enmity for alliance, but it’s God’s doing, not our charm.

And Isaiah 53? Brutal beauty: “He was wounded for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed.” Chastisement for our peace—Jesus bore the bloody atonement so we carry calm. He says, “My peace I give you” (John 14:27), not some generic vibe, but His substitutionary shalom. Leviticus’ scapegoat “carried away” our sins; same word in Isaiah for Jesus bearing sickness. He was led outside the camp as our diseased substitute, so we don’t carry illness or turmoil, because He carried on Himself so that we don’t. That is what the idea of a substitution means. If you carry the same sickness Jesus carried, then there was no substitution. Peace in soul, body, life—it’s contractual, sealed in blood, already carried away to the grave by Jesus’ substitution.

Hebrews 4 ties peace to approaching God’s throne: redeemed, we boldly ask and receive help. No spiritualizing—it’s literal receipt. Jesus contrasts pagan prayer myths. When the pagans pray they mainly give to their gods, and when they do ask, it is done without much hope, even with trepidation, knowing the request could be used against them. Jesus’ prayer doctrine contradicts this. God gives us a fish for fish, a miracle for a miracle, a child of a child, prosperity for prosperity, a spouse for a spouse and Spirit for Spirit (Matthew 7:7-11). If evil humans give good gifts, how much more our Father? Our Good Father gives us the things we ask for; anything less is demon dogmatics.

This crushes defective ethics peddling unbelief. Faith-fumblers teach God’s stingy or sickness teaches lessons—nonsense! Experience as a teacher is the worst type of teacher. For us, revelation’s our sole teacher of knowledge. Sickness comes from Satan not God. Therefore, destroy it in Jesus’ name, advancing His kingdom. If you are doing something to give a foothold, correct your behavior. To let Satan’s attacks linger glorifies hell, not God. Mindset matters: the atonement is finished and the benefits already deposited into your account by grace. Faith sees them, withdraws at will. Forgiveness, healing, prosperity are not begged, but claimed in faith. The natural man, using the five senses, cannot receive the things of the Spirit, who reveals to us all the good things God has freely deposited to our accounts.

Cheer up! Praise God before the crushing, knowing God’s promises are guaranteed. Peace starts in faith-filled minds, and manifests in crushed foes. Biblical peace is where God’s crushes Satan shortly under your feet. Notice it was not under God’s feet, but your feet. When Satan eyes meet yours, it should be when he is crushed under your feet. This is the only correct position for Satan to meet your gaze.  If doubters peddle less, get them out of your life. For us? We assent, crush, receive and advance. All things possible when you believe—mountains move, enemies flatten. That’s God’s type of peace: conquest, not compromise.

The Devil Is Making You Sick, Not God

I’ve heard that tired tale more times than I care to count: Jesus is the kind of shepherd who snaps the legs of a wandering sheep to keep it from straying. Sounds compassionate if you’re into Eastern pagan mysticism, but crack open your Bible and you won’t find it. Not once.

Some folks picture God up there playing cosmic orthopedic surgeon, breaking legs to “teach lessons.” Not in my Bible. The script flips hard: it’s not the Father handing out fractures. It’s Satan slinging sickness like cheap candy on Halloween.

Let me hit you with a straight question. When Paul dealt with the man sleeping with his mother-in-law, who did he hand that guy over to? Paul said he delivered him “to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, so that his spirit may be saved” (1 Corinthians 5:5). Paul was letting the guy’s “legs get broken,” so to speak. But who actually did the breaking? Who ministered the sickness? God or Satan? Paul handed him straight to Satan. The devil was the one swinging the wrecking ball. The sickness, on the human level, was Satan’s will—not God’s.

God’s not your sickness Santa Claus. That’s the devil’s gig.

This was an extreme case—an outlier sin among believers. Same with the Corinthians who trashed the Lord’s Supper and dishonored the blood of Jesus. Paul brought discipline, and you could say God worked through Paul, yet even then God wasn’t the one dishing out the sickness. Satan was.

God sovereign? Absolutely. He controls every atom, every thought, every faith, every unbelief, every election and reprobation with the same direct, absolute power a programmer has over his code—only infinitely more. He is the metaphysical author of all things, including sin and evil. But Scripture denies pantheism. On the human, relative level—the level Jesus and the apostles mostly preach from—God doesn’t minister sickness to His own. If you don’t mostly speak on the human level in theology and doctrine, then you stop talking like the Bible.

Jesus never said, “God willed this boy blind.” He said, “Your faith has healed you.” We say the same.

Take Job. No New Covenant, no Abrahamic blessing yet. God sovereignly pointed Satan at Job—essentially baiting the fight. God orchestrated it all. But who actually inflicted the boils, the loss, the destruction? Satan. God didn’t swing the hammer. Satan did. Same with King David’s census. Scripture says both God and Satan “incited” David. Two categories. Metaphysically, God is the only real cause. On the human level, Satan ministered the sin.

Even in Job’s story—where God plays the ultimate Director of “Temptation Island”—Satan’s still the one holding the wrecking ball. Jesus never walks around saying, “Here’s a cold for your sins.” He says, “Your faith got this. Now walk.”

Remember the woman bent over for eighteen years? Jesus didn’t blame the Father. He said it was Satan who bound her. Satan ministered the sickness; God, faithful to Abraham’s promise, ministered the healing. Peter nails it in Acts 10:38: Jesus “went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him.” Satan is the priest of darkness—his ministry is sin and sickness. Jesus is the High Priest of God—His ministry is righteousness, wealth, and healing. If you’re inside the Contract with Jesus, He pours out good things, not evil ones.

“But God sometimes gives sickness!” some bark. True in one narrow sense, but check the category. Who does God personally strike? His enemies. He didn’t send Satan after Egypt’s firstborn—He sent His own angel. Why the switch? Egypt wasn’t a Contract insider. They were outsiders, under condemnation. God wanted to destroy them Himself. Same with the Philistines and their tumors after stealing the Ark. Outsiders. Enemies. God cursed them directly. Their sickness was God’s will.

That’s huge. If you stand up and say, “God gave me this sickness,” you’re identifying yourself as a reprobate Egyptian or a cursed Philistine. You’re claiming to be God’s enemy, under His curse, not His salvation. If God is attacking you with disease, your first concern isn’t healing—it’s escaping hell.

There’s one more category: sickness as the curse of Adam’s Fall or the law of Moses. But Galatians 3 shouts it: Jesus became that curse for us so that, in substitutionary exchange, we receive the blessing of Abraham—miracles and the baptism of the Spirit. We don’t carry curses anymore. We carry blessings. Just like forgiveness, you receive it by faith. Doubt it, and James and Jesus both say don’t expect the exchange.

If you’re on Team Jesus, you’re in the healing line, not the disease queue. Claiming God gave you the flu is like saying you’re still on the naughty list. Spoiler: that’s not the team you signed up for.

As a Contract insider, God doesn’t minister sickness to me. He ministers healing and miracles. Sickness only hits me two ways: Satan’s direct attack or lingering curses I’ve already been redeemed from. I’ve been rescued from both.

This matters. When you see sickness as Satan’s will—not God’s—you’re not only free to fight it, you’re commanded to. Jesus didn’t suggest, “Maybe cast out a demon if you feel like it.” He commanded it. James didn’t whisper, “Resist the devil… if it’s convenient.” He commanded, “Resist the devil and he will flee from you.” Even if the sickness came as discipline, the standing order is still the same: cast it out. Resist. Make Satan run.

You do not have permission to let the enemy bulldoze you. As a soldier in God’s kingdom, you don’t get to sit there while Satan’s kingdom beats you down. You’re commanded to expand God’s kingdom with truth and power. They retreat. We advance. The only way? Faith and power. Take the authority Jesus already gave you. Heal the sick. Cast out demons. Command mountains to move.

In my Systematic Theology 2025, I lay out the full deductive case: God authors all things metaphysically, yet on the relative level we fight like the victors we are. Sickness is Satan’s glory, not God’s. Healing is Jesus slamming His fist into the devil’s smug face—again and again.

So if you’re sick right now, blame the right culprit. Satan’s your unwanted health advisor. As a card-carrying member of the Jesus Club, you’re commanded to kick him to the curb, resist like you’re in a cosmic tug-of-war you were rigged to win, and heal like you’ve got divine health insurance that never lapses.

In this divine comedy, you’re strengthened to be the victor, not the victim. Now go expand the kingdom. The devil’s already lost—make him feel it.