Faith In The City

I have been in relationships where I was giving 100 and getting 20 back. I have been ghosted. I have been lied to. I have been left when things got hard. And then I got into the best relationship of my life. No ghosting. No lies. Loved more than I love back. Seen in a way nobody has ever seen me. The peace I carry right now is unexpected, unwavering, unconditional, and unexplainable. And I could not manufacture it if I tried. If you have never felt truly loved by someone who is not going anywhere, I want you to know that is available to you. Come as you are. Seriously.

“You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” 1 John 4:4 (NIV) When I opened this verse today, I already knew where it was headed and joy rose up in me before I even finished reading it. This is one of those Scriptures that doesn’t just speak to you; it speaks for you. It reminds you of something your spirit already knows: the victory is already won! That means whatever battle we walk into, emotional, spiritual, relational, mental, we enter it from a place of strength, not fear. We enter empowered, encouraged, confident, and joyful because God has already fought and won the fight on our behalf. If the victory is settled, what exactly are we afraid of? As I continued reading the devotional, I appreciated the reminder that this verse doesn’t promise everything will go our way. We will still face trouble, heartache, overwhelm, and spiritual resistance. Even victories come with their own crises. But the presence of trouble doesn’t mean the absence of God. It means the battle is real but so is our advantage. The enemy will always try to steal, kill, destroy, distract, divide, confuse, and discourage. But he cannot take what we do not give. Jesus taught that if someone takes your shirt, offer your jacket (or vice versa). Joel Osteen often says, “They can take the parking spot, but they can’t take my joy.” That’s the posture I’m choosing. Lately, when trouble comes, my responses have been simple: “Everything happens for a reason.” “God is in control.” “I’m turning this over to You, God.” Then I smile, inside first, then outward, and move forward. Because once I hand it to God, it’s no longer my burden. I want to stay in joy. I want to stay in peace. And I’m not giving either one away. The devotional title today was “Someone Greater.” It reminded me that there is a physical and spiritual battle happening around us, but I am not fighting alone. The Holy Trinity Father, Son, and Holy Spirit fights for me. The fact that Heaven considers me worth fighting for humbles me deeply. Our real enemy is not each other. It’s not people. It’s not inconvenience. It’s not emotions. It’s not circumstances. Our real enemy is the kingdom of darkness. And the kingdom of darkness cannot prevail against the God who lives within us. So today, I’m choosing gratitude. I’m choosing confidence. I’m choosing joy. I’m choosing to live from victory, not toward it. Because the One who lives in me is greater than anything in this world.

Reflection: I’ve been reading the book of Numbers, and I learned that the Hebrew title actually means “In the Wilderness.” That already feels more accurate, because the wilderness is where everything gets exposed fear, faith, frustration, and trust. But as I’m reading, I keep finding myself judging the Israelites. How could God free them from slavery, perform miracle after miracle, and yet the moment things get uncomfortable, they want to go back? How could bondage feel safer than freedom? Then I had to stop and ask myself: Am I really any different? Was the wilderness actually harder than Egypt? Or was it just unfamiliar? Was it one of those “better the devil I know than the one I don’t” situations? And if I’m honest, have I ever done the same thing in my own life? Have I ever chosen the familiar struggle over the unfamiliar freedom? That question hit me harder than I expected. I started wondering if God ever looks at me the way I’ve been looking at the Israelites. Like, “Girl, why would you go back to that? Why would you choose the thing I freed you from?” Not in a judgmental way but in a loving, “I want better for you” way. And then I thought about Moses. Poor Moses. He dealt with so much, carried so much, and one moment of frustration, hitting the rock instead of speaking to it, cost him entry into the Promised Land. That scared me a little. It made me wonder: Am I dishonoring God without realizing it? Could one mistake knock me off my purpose? Will God still let me finish what He created me to do? But then I remembered: Moses did complete his purpose. His assignment was to lead the people out of Egypt and toward the promise and he did that. God even let him see the land, which feels like grace to me. So maybe the point isn’t “one mistake and you’re done.” Maybe the point is: God takes His character seriously, but He also takes His mercy seriously. My Questions: As I’m reading, I’m asking myself: Would I have been one of the ones who wanted to go back? Would I have trusted God in the wilderness? Would I have been Joshua or Caleb, the ones who believed God even when everyone else didn’t? I want to believe I’d be one of the two. I’m generally positive, hopeful, and faith‑leaning. But I also know myself. I get nervous. I overthink. I don’t always make the best decisions. And I don’t want fear to ever put me on the wrong side of what God is doing. What I’m Learning: The wilderness isn’t about punishment. It’s about preparation. It’s where God teaches you to trust Him in new ways. It’s where He breaks old mindsets and builds new ones. It’s where He shows you who He is and who you are becoming. And maybe the real question isn’t, “Would I have gone back to Egypt?” but “Will I trust God with the unknown parts of my journey today?” Because right now, I feel joy. I feel open doors. I feel peace. I feel God. And I can’t imagine ever wanting to go back to the old version of me. I’m learning that the temptation to return doesn’t always look like wanting your old life back. Sometimes it looks like choosing comfort over calling. Control over trust. Familiarity over faith. And I don’t want that to be my story. I want to walk like Joshua and Caleb, not because they were fearless, but because they remembered who God was. And that’s the kind of faith I’m choosing to build.