Do Not Trust in Man: A Modern Parable of Discernment

Introduction

There are seasons when the world feels like it is shouting at us from every direction. The COVID years were one of those seasons. Experts contradicted each other. Agencies shifted their guidance. Politicians changed their positions. News outlets amplified fear and confusion. Ordinary people were left standing in the middle of the storm, trying to decide who to believe and what to do.

That period is not the focus of this article, but it serves as a vivid modern parable. It exposed something deeper than public health policy or political maneuvering. It revealed how fragile our trust becomes when it is placed in human beings instead of in God. Scripture has warned us about this all along, but many believers only discovered the weight of those warnings when the world went into crisis.

The Biblical Warning About Trusting Man

The Bible does not whisper about the danger of trusting in human strength. It speaks plainly and directly. In **Psalm 146:3 we read, “Put not your trust in princes, in a son of man, in whom there is no salvation.”Jeremiah 17:5 adds, “Cursed is the man who trusts in man and makes flesh his strength, whose heart turns away from the LORD.” Isaiah 2:22 says, “Stop regarding man, whose breath is in his nostrils, for of what account is he?”

These verses are not angry lectures. They are protective warnings. God is not trying to shame His people; He is trying to shield them from disappointment and deception. Human beings, even the most educated and well‑intentioned, are limited. They do not see everything. They do not know everything. They are influenced by pressure, fear, politics, money, and reputation. Even good men make serious mistakes. Even sincere leaders can be wrong.

God is not like that. He is not limited. He is not pressured. He is not biased. He is not confused. He is not swayed by public opinion or personal gain. When He speaks, He speaks truth. When He leads, He leads rightly. When He warns, His warnings are accurate. When He comforts, His comfort is reliable.

A Modern Parable: Confusion in the COVID Era

During the pandemic, people were desperate for clarity. They wanted someone to stand up and say, “This is the truth. This is what you must do. This is what is safe. This is what is dangerous.” Many turned to experts and agencies and assumed that whatever came from those platforms must be correct. Over time, however, it became obvious that not everything being said was consistent, honest, or even logical. Guidance changed. Narratives shifted. Motives were questioned. Trust began to erode.

That erosion of trust is not just a political or social issue. It is a spiritual lesson. When we lean on human voices as if they were infallible, we set ourselves up for confusion. Confusion is the natural fruit of trusting man. It does not mean every person involved was evil or malicious. It simply means that human beings cannot carry the weight of divine trust.

In the middle of that noise, you chose a different path. You prayed. You asked the Lord directly what you should do. You did not have all the data. You did not have access to every study. You did not sit in the rooms where decisions were being made. But you had something better. You had access to the One who sees everything. You sought Him, and He answered you. He gave you peace instead of panic. He gave you assurance instead of confusion. He gave you a specific Scripture—the account of Paul being bitten by a poisonous snake and suffering no harm—as a personal anchor. That was not hype. That was not spin. That was not a narrative. That was a clear, factual, truthful word from God to your heart.

That is the parable. That is the contrast. Human voices produced confusion. God’s voice produced clarity.

The Difference Between Letter and Spirit

Many believers today are taught to live on “Scripture alone” in a way that unintentionally shuts out the living voice of the Holy Spirit. They are told that the Bible is sufficient, and it is, but they are also told—directly or indirectly—that God no longer speaks, no longer guides, no longer reveals, and no longer moves in the gifts of the Spirit. The result is a kind of spiritual dryness. People read the text, but they do not receive fresh manna. They know the letter, but they do not experience the Spirit.

Jesus did not say, “My sheep read My book.” He said, “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.” Hearing implies that He is still speaking. Following implies that He is still leading. Comfort implies that He is still near. Guidance implies that He is still active.

When believers are taught that God no longer speaks, they are left with only human voices and printed words. The printed Word of God is holy, true, and essential. But without the Spirit breathing on that Word, without the living voice of God applying it to specific situations, people can end up with stale bread instead of fresh manna. They can quote verses and still miss the heart of God. They can know doctrine and still lack discernment.

Wholehearted Trust and Total Surrender

Proverbs 3:5 says, “Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.” That verse is often quoted, but rarely lived. Trusting God with all your heart means more than saying a quick prayer in the morning or reading a devotional before bed. It means that your confidence, your decisions, your reactions, and your interpretations are anchored in Him, not in the shifting opinions of men.

Following the Lord is not a part‑time activity. It is not an hour on Sunday. It is not a religious habit tucked into the margins of life. It is a total surrender. It involves your mind, your emotions, your body, your strength, your spirit, and your will. It means that when the world shouts one thing and God whispers another, you choose the whisper. It means that when experts insist on a path that does not sit right in your spirit, you pause and seek the Lord instead of blindly complying. It means that you refuse to make fear‑based decisions and instead wait for the peace of God to rule in your heart.

Total surrender does not mean recklessness. It does not mean ignoring wisdom or rejecting all human counsel. It means that human counsel is weighed, tested, and filtered through the presence and voice of God. It means that you never give to man the trust that belongs only to God.

A Call to Discernment in a Noisy World

We live in an age of constant information. News feeds, social media, podcasts, and commentary are always available. Everyone has an opinion. Everyone has a platform. Everyone has something to say. In that environment, discernment is not optional; it is survival.

Discernment is not suspicion. It is not paranoia. It is not cynicism. Discernment is the ability to recognize the difference between human noise and divine truth. It is the ability to sense when something is off, even if the words sound polished and convincing. It is the ability to wait on God instead of rushing with the crowd. It is the ability to say, “I hear what they are saying, but I need to hear what God is saying.”

The COVID era exposed how easily people can be swayed by fear, pressure, and authority. It also revealed how safe it is to be anchored in God. Those who trusted in man were tossed back and forth. Those who trusted in God had a place to stand.

Conclusion

The lesson of this modern parable is simple and sobering. Human beings, even the best of them, can be wrong. They can be misinformed. They can be pressured. They can be deceived. They can deceive. They can change their minds. They can change their stories. They can fail.

God does not.

He does not lie. He does not change. He does not mislead. He does not manipulate. He does not speak out of fear or self‑interest. His Word is truth. His Spirit is faithful. His guidance is sure.

In a world that will always have loud voices, confident experts, and persuasive narratives, the believer must decide where ultimate trust will rest. If it rests on man, confusion will follow. If it rests on God, clarity will come.

Do not put your trust in man. Do not lean on human understanding. Seek the Lord with your whole heart. Listen for His voice. Surrender fully to His leading. When you do, you will find that even in the loudest seasons, His guidance is steady, His peace is real, and His truth is dependable.


PAUL — THE REDEEMED TERRORIST

A Modern Parable of Misplaced Adoration and Misplaced Outrage

There are moments in Scripture when the Holy Spirit holds up a mirror, not to the ancient world, but to ours. And if we dare to look long enough, we begin to see that the human heart has not evolved. The crowds have not changed. The impulses of nations have not matured. The reflexes of mobs remain the same. And the pattern of misplaced adoration and misplaced outrage continues its ancient march through modern streets.

One of the clearest mirrors is the story of a man named Saul — a man the early church feared, avoided, whispered about, and prayed against. Scripture does not soften his reputation. It says plainly:

“Saul was breathing out threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord.” (Acts 9:1)

He was, by every definition of the word, a violent persecutor — a man who terrorized the early believers, dragging men and women from their homes, scattering the church, and standing proudly as Stephen was stoned. If the early church had a “most wanted” list, Saul’s face would have been on it.

And yet… God looked at this man and said something no one expected:

“He is a chosen vessel unto Me.” (Acts 9:15)

The crowd saw a threat. God saw an apostle. The believers saw a destroyer. God saw a deliverer. The church saw a terrorist. God saw a teacher of nations.

This is the scandal of grace — the holy reversal that confounds human judgment. God did not destroy Saul. He redeemed him. He did not silence him. He sent him. He did not judge him. He transformed him.

And the people who once feared him… now feared the change in him.


THE CROWD STILL CHOOSES THE WRONG HERO

This is not the only time Scripture exposes the crowd’s blindness. In the Gospels, we see a moment so shocking it still echoes through history:

“Whom will ye that I release unto you? Barabbas, or Jesus which is called Christ?” (Matthew 27:17)

Barabbas was an insurrectionist, a murderer, a man who used violence to achieve his aims. Jesus was innocent, healing, restoring, teaching, and revealing the Kingdom.

And yet the crowd cried:

“Give us Barabbas!” (John 18:40)

And then:

“Crucify Him!” (Mark 15:13)

The innocent was condemned. The guilty was embraced. The Prince of Peace was rejected. The man of violence was celebrated.

Nothing has changed.

Humanity still prefers the familiar rebel over the unfamiliar redeemer. We still cheer for the one who fights like us and crucify the one who convicts us. We still misread the moment, misjudge the messenger, and misunderstand the mission.


THE AGE‑OLD DICHOTOMY: MISPLACED ADORATION AND MISPLACED EVISCERATION

This is the pattern:

  • We adore the wrong savior.
  • We attack the right one.
  • We embrace the loudest voice.
  • We reject the truest voice.
  • We defend the one who mirrors our anger.
  • We crucify the one who exposes our corruption.

The crowd still chooses Barabbas. The crowd still fears Paul. The crowd still stones the very one God sends to deliver them.

And this is where the parable becomes painfully modern.

We live in a time when public figures are judged not by truth but by tribal instinct. When reformers are labeled threats. When disruptors are treated as dangers. When the one exposing corruption is attacked more fiercely than the corruption itself. When the one calling for repentance is treated as the enemy of the people.

This is not new. This is not political. This is biblical anthropology — the study of the human heart in rebellion against God.


THE PARABLE FOR OUR TIME

So here is the parable, written in the language of Scripture but speaking to the age we live in:

There was once a man the people feared. They whispered his name with dread. They warned their children about him. They prayed God would stop him.

And God did — but not the way they expected.

He did not strike him down. He struck him awake. He did not silence him. He sent him. He did not judge him. He justified him.

And the people who once feared him now feared the change in him.

They trusted the old version — the one who fit their narrative. They distrusted the new version — the one who fit God’s purpose.

Meanwhile, the crowd still adored the wrong hero. They still cheered for the Barabbas spirit — the one who fought like them, hated like them, and reflected their rage back at them.

But the redeemed man? The transformed one? The one God raised up to expose what others refused to see?

They tore him apart with the same stones they once saved for the Christ.

Because nothing has changed.

The crowd still calls Barabbas’ name,
Still trembles at Paul’s transformed flame.
They misread signs, the hour’s true face,
Yet God still lifts the unlikely in grace,
To stand against shadows,
to challenge disgrace.
Amen.

THE DIGITAL GARDEN: A MODERN PARABLE OF BLAME, BOUNDARIES, AND THE ANCIENT SERPENT

The Story in the News

This week, a story appeared in the news. It is the kind that slips past most people. This happens because it feels ordinary now. A child wandered through the digital wilderness for long hours. When the consequences finally surfaced, the courtroom lights turned toward the platforms that hosted her wandering. The verdict was loud. The headlines were louder. The chorus was familiar: someone else is responsible for what happened in my garden. It is an old song, older than lawsuits and algorithms, older than screens and social feeds. It is the first melody humanity ever sang after tasting forbidden fruit.

The Original Garden and Its Boundary

In the beginning, the garden was simple. God planted it with beauty and purpose, and He placed the man within it to tend and keep it. And God, in His wisdom, established a safeguard. Scripture says, “And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die” (Genesis 2:16-17). The boundary was clear. The command was simple. The safeguard was unmistakable. It was not a fence or a wall. It was a word, a divine line drawn for the protection of innocence.

The Temptation’s Allure

The tree itself was not poisonous. It was not ugly. It was not repulsive. Scripture says, “And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat” (Genesis 3:6). The temptation was not wrapped in darkness but in beauty. It was lovely to look at. It promised wisdom. It offered insight. It held the allure of knowledge. This was the knowledge of good and evil. It was the entire spectrum of human experience condensed into a single bite.

The Digital Parallel

Tell me that does not resemble the glowing rectangles we place into the hands of children today. Tell me that does not mirror the endless feeds of social media. Good and evil swirl together in a single stream. Beauty and corruption sit side by side. Wisdom and foolishness are offered without restraint. The serpent has not changed his strategy. He has simply updated the interface.

The First Human Response: Blame

And when the consequences came in Eden, the ancient instinct awakened. God called to the man and said, “Where art thou?” (Genesis 3:9). Not because He lacked knowledge, but because the man had abandoned his post. And when confronted, Adam did not confess. He deflected. “The woman whom Thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat” (Genesis 3:12). Eve followed the same path. “The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat” (Genesis 3:13). The first human response to sin was not repentance but blame. The man blamed the woman. The woman blamed the serpent. And humanity has been outsourcing responsibility ever since.

Modern-Day Replays

We are watching the same scene replayed in courtrooms today. A child wanders through the digital garden. A parent hands over the device. A platform profits from the wandering. And when the harm surfaces, the finger points outward. The serpent is sued. The tree is examined. The garden is scrutinized. The designer is blamed. Anything but the one who opened the gate.

The Parental Responsibility

It is like a parent purchasing a plane ticket for a child. They pack the bags. They walk the child to the gate. They wave goodbye as the child boards a flight to a city the parent has never visited. The child lands and wanders the streets alone. The child becomes frightened and overwhelmed. Then the parent sues the airline for “transporting a minor.” The airline did not kidnap the child. The parent purchased the ticket. The parent enabled the journey. The parent opened the way. Yet the blame shifts upward, never inward.

The Tree’s Beauty and the Lost Boundary

A lawyer appeared on television this week. He spoke of the platforms’ design as “lovely to look at” and “crafted to draw children in.” He meant it as an indictment of modern technology, but he accidentally quoted Moses. The tree was pleasant to the eyes. The fruit was desirable to make one wise. The temptation was not in its ugliness but in its beauty. And the safeguard was not in the tree but in the command: do not eat.

The garden had a boundary. The home once had boundaries. But in this generation, the boundaries have been erased. We place glowing trees of knowledge into the hands of children and remove every safeguard God once placed around innocence. Then when the consequences come, we seek a payday to ease our guilt and soothe our conscience. We look for settlements instead of repentance. We seek compensation instead of correction. We prefer a judgment that pays rather than a judgment that purifies.

Divine Justice and Accountability

But Scripture says, “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?” (Genesis 18:25). The Judge of all the earth does not accept excuses. He does not settle cases with hush money. He does not allow blame to be passed like a hot coal from hand to hand. He weighs motives. He examines hearts. He judges actions, not intentions. “For the Lord is a God of knowledge, and by Him actions are weighed” (1 Samuel 2:3).

Children as Divine Heritage

One truth stands firm. It cannot be litigated away, ignored, or outsourced. It is written in the very breath of Scripture. Children do not belong to the state, the school, the platform, the algorithm, or the culture. They belong to the Lord. Scripture declares, “Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is His reward” (Psalm 127:3). A heritage is not a hobby. A reward is not a burden. A child is not a digital consumer to be managed by corporations. Nor is a child a social media performer to be applauded by strangers. A child is a trust placed in the hands of parents by God Himself.

The Divine Command to Parents

And with that trust comes a command, not a suggestion. Scripture does not say, “If convenient, guide them.” It does not say, “If culture approves, instruct them.” It does not say, “If you have time, shape them.” It says, “Train up a child in the way he should go” (Proverbs 22:6). The verb is active. The responsibility is direct. The assignment is divine. Parents are not permitted to abdicate this calling, nor to hand it over to screens, systems, or artificial intelligence.

The Parental Role in Nurture and Admonition

The Lord did not give the task of training children to devices. He did not give it to algorithms. He did not give it to platforms. He gave it to fathers and mothers. Scripture says, “And ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord” (Ephesians 6:4). The nurture belongs to the parent. The admonition belongs to the parent. The shaping of the heart belongs to the parent. The guarding of the gate belongs to the parent.

The Reality of Accountability

We cannot sue our way out of the consequences of abdicated stewardship. We cannot litigate our way out of the responsibilities God placed in our hands. We cannot purchase innocence with payouts. We cannot outsource accountability to corporations and courts. The serpent is real. The fruit is tempting. The garden is vulnerable. And the ones entrusted with its care are still accountable before God.

The Judge’s Expectation

The Judge still walks into the garden. He still calls out, “Where art thou?” And He still expects an answer.