Tag Isaiah 40:31

STRENGTH FOR THE WEARY, THE FAINT, AND THE FORGOTTEN

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

There are seasons in the life of every believer when the soul grows tired of waiting, when the heart grows faint, and when the mind begins to wonder what God is doing behind the scenes. Scripture does not hide this reality; it speaks directly to it. The command to strengthen what remains and is about to die is not a rebuke but a rescue — a divine hand reaching into the life of the weary saint who has been faithful longer than they thought they could endure. The fainthearted are not to be shamed; they are to be encouraged. The downcast are not to be dismissed; they are to be lifted. And the struggling believer is not to be told to try harder, but to be reminded that delay is not denial — it is the testing ground of faith.

THE PRESSURE OF DELAY AND THE TEMPTATION TO COMPROMISE

When Moses ascended Mount Sinai, he remained there forty days and forty nights. During that time, the people grew restless, anxious, and uncertain. Their fear gave birth to compromise. They said, “We do not know what has become of this Moses,” and in that single sentence the human heart is exposed. When God seems distant, the giants of compromise step forward — fear, anxiety, self‑reliance, impatience, and the desire to take matters into our own hands.

Israel did not build the golden calf because they were rebellious; they built it because they were afraid. They panicked in the silence. They misinterpreted the delay. And in their fear, they squandered what God had given them.

They left Egypt with abundance. Scripture says they departed with silver, gold, and garments — the wealth of the land placed into their hands by the favor of God. Yet in the wilderness, they melted that gold into an idol that could not save. What was meant to build their future was wasted in a single moment of fear. It is a sobering reminder that what God gives for the promised land can be lost in the panic of the wilderness.

THE FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN AND THE LONGING FOR EGYPT

Israel’s desire to return to Egypt was not a longing for comfort; it was a longing for predictability. Slavery was cruel, but at least tomorrow looked familiar. Freedom was glorious, but it required trust for a tomorrow they could not see. This is the greatest challenge to faith: not hardship, but uncertainty.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1)

It is the unseen part that tests us. It is the unknown that unnerves us. It is the silence that shakes us.

Jesus addressed this when He said:

“Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” (Matthew 6:34)

God intentionally gave Israel manna one day at a time. It was not a savings account. It was not a retirement plan. It was not security for the future. It was daily bread — enough for today, and only today.

“And having food and raiment let us be therewith content.” (1 Timothy 6:8)

Anxiety begins the moment we start looking beyond what God has given us for this day.

THE WISDOM OF ONE DAY AT A TIME

The human heart longs for certainty. We want to know that tomorrow is secure, that next week is stable, that next year is mapped out. Corporate leaders sketch five‑year plans. Financial advisors build retirement projections. But Jesus teaches us a different rhythm — a holy simplicity that refuses to borrow tomorrow’s fears.

Paul writes:

“Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.” (Philippians 4:6)

The word careful means anxious, pulled apart, divided in mind. God is not asking us to ignore reality; He is asking us to refuse anxiety. He is calling us to pray instead of panic, to give thanks instead of spiraling, to trust instead of forecasting disaster.

Peter echoes this when he says:

“Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.” (1 Peter 5:7)

We cast our cares because He cares. We release our burdens because He receives them. We let go of tomorrow because He already holds it.

Jesus Himself taught us to pray:

“Give us this day our daily bread.” (Matthew 6:11)

Not weekly bread. Not monthly bread. Not a five‑year supply. Daily bread.

This was not poetic language — it was intentional formation. Jesus was teaching us to live in the same rhythm God taught Israel in the wilderness. Manna was never meant to be stored. It was never meant to be saved. It was never meant to be hoarded. It was meant to be gathered fresh every morning, reminding the people that God’s faithfulness is renewed with the dawn.

And Jesus ties this directly to anxiety when He says:

“Take therefore no thought for the morrow… Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” (Matthew 6:34)

There is wisdom in one day at a time. There is peace in one day at a time. There is provision in one day at a time. There is strength in one day at a time.

Anxiety begins the moment we try to live in days God has not given us yet. Faith begins the moment we trust Him for the day we are in.

THE DELAYED ANSWER AND THE WAR IN THE INVISIBLE REALM

The verse that ties this entire message together is found in Daniel’s prayer. When Daniel sought the Lord, the angel told him:

“From the first day that thou didst set thine heart to understand… thy words were heard… but the prince of the kingdom of Persia withstood me one and twenty days.” (Daniel 10:12–13)

Heaven moved the moment Daniel prayed. The answer was dispatched immediately. The delay was not denial; it was warfare. The silence was not absence; it was resistance. The struggle was not personal; it was spiritual.

This is what the weary saint must understand: your prayer was heard the first day. Your answer is already in motion. Your delay is not God ignoring you — it is the enemy resisting what God has already released.

THE CALL TO THE FAINTHEARTED: DO NOT LOSE HEART

Paul wrote:

“And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” (Galatians 6:9)

Weariness is not failure; it is evidence that you have been faithful. The fainthearted are not to be warned but encouraged. The weak are not to be pushed but supported.

“Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees.” (Hebrews 12:12)

God does not despise the weary; He strengthens them. He does not shame the faint; He upholds them.

“But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles.” (Isaiah 40:31)

Even the strong grow weary. Even the young faint. Even the gifted burn out. But the eagle does not rise by flapping harder; it rises by waiting for the wind. Waiting is not inactivity — it is alignment.

THE WORD TO THE ONE WHO IS ABOUT TO FAINT

To the saint who feels forgotten, discarded, or overlooked… to the believer who has prayed and heard nothing… to the one who has waited and seen no change… to the heart that is tired of hoping… hear this.

You are not abandoned. You are not ignored. You are not invisible. You are not failing. You are not forgotten.

Delay is not denial. Silence is not absence. Waiting is not wasting. And fainting is not falling away.

God is working in the unseen. He is fighting battles you cannot see. He is moving in ways you cannot measure. He is preparing answers you cannot imagine.

Strengthen what remains. Hold fast to what is alive. Do not throw away your confidence. Do not surrender your hope. Do not bow to the giants of compromise.

Your God is coming. Your answer is on the way. Your strength is being renewed. Your faith is being refined. Your future is being prepared.

And when the wind of God lifts you again, you will rise higher than you ever thought possible.

WHEN THE FIRE FALLS, THE CHURCH MUST RISE

Allen Frederick Leave a comment
A Pentecost Commissioning Word for a Church Built to Soar

The Vessel on the Launch Pad

There is something profoundly symbolic about a launch vehicle standing motionless on the pad. Artemis rises above everything around it, a towering testament to human ingenuity and purpose, a vessel engineered for the heavens and designed for the stars. Every line, every bolt, every system, and every panel speaks of intention. It was never meant to remain grounded. It was created to break the pull of gravity and ascend into realms the human body cannot reach on its own. Yet for all its brilliance and capability, Artemis remains motionless until the moment fire touches its core. Without fuel, without ignition, without the roar of combustion and the thrust of flame, it becomes nothing more than an impressive monument pointed toward the sky, longing for the place it was designed to inhabit.

This is the church before Pentecost.

Christ built His church with intention. He shaped it with purpose. He assembled it with precision. He redeemed a people not to remain earthbound but to rise into the life of the Spirit, to carry the message of the kingdom into every nation, and to walk in the authority He purchased with His own blood. Yet even after the resurrection, the disciples remained in the upper room, fully assembled but not yet activated, prepared but not yet propelled, called but not yet commissioned. They were like a vessel on the launch pad, looking upward but unable to rise.

The Ignition of Heaven

Then the fire fell.

Pentecost was not a quiet moment. It was not a gentle whisper or a symbolic gesture. It was the ignition sequence of the kingdom of God. Scripture describes a sound like a mighty rushing wind filling the entire house, followed by tongues of fire resting upon each believer. It was loud, visible, overwhelming, and unmistakably divine. The fire did not fall to warm them; it fell to launch them. It did not descend to create a memory; it descended to create movement. It did not come to decorate the upper room; it came to empty it.

“And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting.” (Acts 2:2)

“And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them.” (Acts 2:3)

“And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.” (Acts 2:4)

The miracle of Pentecost was not only the fire but the hearing. Scripture says that every person present, from every nation under heaven, heard the message in their own language. This was not merely a linguistic phenomenon; it was a declaration that the gospel is for every heart, every walk, every level of faith, and every stage of the journey.

“Every man heard them speak in his own language.” (Acts 2:6)

The mature heard. The new believers heard. The skeptics heard. The religious heard. The broken heard. The nations heard. Pentecost was God’s way of saying that no one stands outside the reach of His voice. The fire that fell in the upper room became a message that spoke to the world.

Salvation Assembled the Vessel, but the Spirit Supplies the Fuel

Jesus came to save, but salvation was not the end of His mission. His death fulfilled the old covenant, His resurrection opened the new covenant, and Pentecost activated the covenant within His people. Salvation assembled the vessel, but the Spirit supplied the fuel. The cross redeemed us, but the fire empowers us. The resurrection lifted our eyes, but Pentecost lifts our lives.

“Ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me.” (Acts 1:8)

Jesus did not redeem a people to remain grounded. He redeemed a people to rise.

Eagles Are Born for Altitude

This is why the image of the eagle fits so perfectly. Scripture tells us that those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength and mount up with wings as eagles. Eagles are born for altitude. They are shaped for the wind. They rise on currents that other creatures fear. Chickens scratch in the dirt, content with the barnyard, bound to the ground by their own nature. But eagles ascend. They do not flap in panic; they soar in confidence. They do not scatter at shadows; they rise above them. They do not live by effort; they live by lift.

“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles.” (Isaiah 40:31)

We were saved to soar like eagles, not scratch like chickens. We were redeemed to rise, not to remain. We were called to ascend, not to admire the sky from a distance. The Spirit was given not to decorate our faith but to elevate it. Pentecost is the wind beneath the wings of the church, the fire beneath the vessel, the power that transforms a gathered people into a sent people.

The Upper Room Was Never the Destination

The upper room was never meant to be the destination. It was the launch pad. The fire that fell was never meant to be contained. It was meant to be carried. The message that erupted in many tongues was never meant to remain in Jerusalem. It was meant to reach the nations. Pentecost is not a holiday to be observed but a commissioning to be obeyed. It is the moment the church found its voice, its courage, its purpose, and its power.

“Go ye therefore, and teach all nations.” (Matthew 28:19)

The modern church often resembles Artemis on the pad—beautiful, impressive, carefully constructed, and pointed toward the heavens, yet lacking the fire that sends it into its mission. We have structure without thrust, programs without propulsion, gatherings without ignition. But Pentecost reminds us that the church was never meant to remain stationary. It was designed to move, to rise, to carry the gospel into every corner of the earth with the same power that raised Jesus from the dead.

When the Fire Falls, the Church Must Rise

When the fire falls, the church must rise. When the Spirit moves, the people of God must respond. When the wind fills the room, the doors must open. Pentecost is the moment heaven touches earth so that earth can reach heaven. It is the divine spark that turns believers into witnesses, disciples into ambassadors, and a gathered crowd into a global movement.

We stand again at the foot of Pentecost, not as spectators but as vessels waiting for ignition. The fire that fell in the upper room still falls today. The wind that filled the house still blows. The Spirit who empowered the early church still empowers the church now. We were not saved to sit. We were saved to soar. We were not redeemed to remain grounded. We were redeemed to rise. We were not built to admire the sky. We were built to enter it.

May the fire fall again. May the wind blow again. May the church rise again. May the people of God step into the extraordinary life for which they were created, fueled by the Spirit, lifted by the wind, and launched by the fire of Pentecost.

Hollow Rabbit Religion

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

The Hollow Rabbit Problem

Easter is the second most important candy‑eating occasion of the year for Americans, who consumed 7 billion pounds of candy in 2001, according to the National Confectioner’s Association.

  • In 2000, Americans spent nearly $1.9 billion on Easter candy, while Halloween sales were nearly $2 billion; Christmas, an estimated $1.4 billion; and Valentine’s Day, just over $1 billion.
  • Ninety million chocolate Easter bunnies are produced each year.
  • Chocolate bunnies should be eaten ears first, according to 76% of Americans. Five percent said bunnies should be eaten feet first, while 4% favored eating the tail first.
  • Adults prefer milk chocolate (65%) to dark chocolate (27%).

They are fanciful, often gold‑wrapped, usually elegantly packaged, full‑color presentations. From all appearances, those chocolate creatures are a delightful treat to eat. On the surface these beauties are elegant and proud. Inside, however, they are an empty hollow shell.

I do not know about you, but I prefer solid chocolate rabbits over the hollow ones. I much prefer to bite into a solid milk chocolate bunny. I have been fooled in the past into purchasing what looked like a solid chocolate rabbit only to get home and find out it was not. One bite is all it took to know I had been deceived. Although it had the appearance of being solid, it did not pass the bite test. Of course, I could have employed the pinch test at the store, but that would have only left a broken bunny on the shelf where once stood a proud whole rabbit.

After Easter, mark‑downs can be found on the broken chocolate rabbits even before the holiday buying season ends. The chocolate still tastes as good as it did when it was in the form of a full standing rabbit, but since it now resembles a pile of chocolate flakes, it lost some of its value. Although the chocolate did not lose any flavor, it was no longer pretty to look at.

Hollow rabbits outsell solid rabbits primarily because of the cost. You can get a gigantic 12‑inch rabbit for about half the price of a much smaller solid one. Children love the fact that they have this huge chocolate rabbit to eat, when in reality the amount of actual chocolate in that 12‑inch rabbit is less than half of the smaller sized version.

Outwardly these proud rabbits stand tall, but apply just a little amount of pressure and they will crumble. There is no real substance to them. They are of little value when faced with just the slightest bit of pressure. By contrast, their solid shelf‑mates can withstand tremendous pressure. Have you ever tried biting the head off a solid rabbit?

Solid or hollow — which do you prefer?

Solid or Hollow Worship

Our church worship could be looked at from the viewpoint of solid or hollow. Are we worshipping with our whole hearts, souls, minds, spirits, and strength, or is it more of an outward show to win favorable ratings from onlookers?

“In the fifth year of King Rehoboam, Shishak king of Egypt attacked Jerusalem. He carried off the treasures of the temple of the Lord and the treasures of the royal palace. He took everything, including the gold shields Solomon had made. So King Rehoboam made bronze shields to replace them and assigned these to the commanders of the guard on duty at the entrance to the royal palace. Whenever the king went to the Lord’s temple, the guards bore the shields, and afterward they returned them to the guardroom.” (2 Chronicles 12:9–11)

The gold was gone. It was replaced with bronze. Although it had an appearance of gold, it wasn’t. Bronze is far cheaper to produce than gold and thus less valuable. Although stripped of all the gold, the king made a show of worship anyway. If anyone came to steal these bronze shields, would they get anything of value when compared to the golden shields that had been there? Are we taking away anything of value from our worship services — any golden nuggets?

“Be careful not to let anyone rob you of this faith through a shallow and misleading philosophy. Such a person follows human traditions and the world’s way of doing things rather than following Christ.” (Colossians 2:8, GW)

All across our land many church houses are filled with bronze where once stood gold. What once was solid biblical preaching has been replaced with hollow messages of self‑improvement. These messengers appear to preach solid biblical counsel, yet their teachings contain no substance. Unable to offer the solid meat of God’s Word, they are left with only hollow arguments to the world’s ills. These solid‑looking brass shields, though golden in appearance, lack the value of pure gold.

It may be milk and it may be chocolate, but is it solid? What is your worship made of? Will it stand up under pressure? What is behind that golden appearance? Is it solid or simply hollow? Can you worship when times are rough? Has the enemy come in and taken all the value out of your salvation experience and left you with just a semblance of true worship?

“But those who are waiting for the Lord will have new strength; they will get wings like eagles: running, they will not be tired, and walking, they will have no weariness.” (Isaiah 40:31, BBE)