Faith in Jesus isn’t lost all at once. It happens in stages, and each one prepares the ground for the next attack.

STAGE ONE: It starts when truth stops landing in the heart — even truth sitting on the page of the Bible in front of you. The doctor’s report, the bank statement, the silence where relationships used to be: what can be seen, heard, and felt begins to outweigh the words and acts of Jesus. You do not deny Jesus exactly. You demote His acts and words to historical events that were for another time and people — a generation who were meant to launch a movement, but send it forth without His authority and power.

STAGE TWO: Once that erosion sets in, the next phase targets the moral pillars that keep you upright. Church becomes something to attend rather than an encounter with the Holy Spirit. Ritual replaces relationship. Those moments when you were once sure you heard God get reclassified into self-talk. Church creeds get recited from memory, but the words don’t quicken the spirit.

STAGE THREE: Then comes the crisis — sudden, sharp, and exactly as Jesus warned. The storm hits the man who built on rock and the man who built on sand alike. The outcome was decided before the storm arrived: collapse for the one on the sand, recovery and cleanup for the one on the Rock.

STAGE FOUR: And the crisis does what crises do — it makes fear, and fear opens a door to a “new normal.” From the outside, it can look like stability. From the inside, it’s a permanently reshaped reality you have agreed to live with. You are alive and breathing, but now you just get through your remaining days until Christ’s return or you pass away.

Below is an example of what this steady attack is like. You may know this person. You may be this person. The account below is not meant to shame, but to warn. God’s faith is a great treasure, and if the enemy can steal it, surrendering to our circumstances may follow.

DECONSTRUCTING YOUR FAITH—SHAMBLES ON THE LOT

STAGE ONE: TRUTH STOPS MATTERING — the doctor’s report carries more weight than Scripture. This is not a rejection of God or of Jesus’ sacrifice, but a quiet handover of authority from His promises to what we can see, hear, taste, smell, and touch.

“Sickness dominates my life and shapes almost every decision I make. I feel controlled by it. There’s constant monitoring, treatments, and pain replacing the freedom I used to have. Foods and simple pleasures that once brought me joy now feel permanently out of reach. It’s limited my choices and left me with the feeling that more has been taken from me than I will ever get back.

“I feel as though I spend my whole life trying to stay one step ahead of the bills. No matter how much I work, the money disappears as fast as it comes in. I worry that I will never have enough to stop working and that my future expenses will be more than I can afford. There is nothing left for the things I enjoy because every dollar has a purpose before I even earn it.”

STAGE TWO: THE PILLARS ERODE — Facts attack provision. This is the scene Jesus faced on a mountain with 5000 men, plus women and children. His disciples accepted the facts and said, “Send them away.” Jesus answered with faith, “You feed them.” And expected them to do so — through faith in Him with the authority and power He delegated to them. In stage two, our daily bread promise gets crowded out by the math of the bank statement, and the math always looks more certain than the promise.

“Work fills almost every hour of my life. There is no real break, no time to rest, and no chance to enjoy the hobbies that once made me happy. Years have passed while the things I hoped to do have sat untouched because earning enough to survive always comes first. It feels as though work has replaced living.”

This is routine work that robs us of our Sabbath rest. The joy that should come from something you do well becomes a fight against depletion.

“I spend much of my time alone. Few people reach out to me, and I rarely hear from anyone unless I start the conversation. There is no one to share life with, and my work schedule leaves little opportunity to build new relationships. The loneliness has become another burden that I carry every day.”

Isolation is where the “new normal” gets its foothold — community was one of the pillars, and its absence doesn’t feel like a crisis anymore.

STAGE THREE: THE RAPID-ONSET SHOCK — Then comes the crisis — sudden, sharp, and exactly as Jesus warned.

“I lost my job, found another, but then went ten days out of work because of sickness. This week, an emergency room visit — with no certainty yet of what comes next. I no longer feel free to live the life I want. My choices are dictated by obligations, responsibilities, and limitations that seem to grow with each passing year.

“I’m no longer free to come and go as I please. I feel as though disease and the demands of daily survival control every part of my life. Instead of living on my own terms, I wake up each day feeling confined by limitations that I cannot escape. Those limits have left me frustrated, discouraged, and unhappy, and there are days when I struggle to recognize the person I used to be. Each new loss adds to the feeling that life keeps taking from me without giving anything back.

STAGE FOUR: THE “NEW NORMAL” — This is the reshaped reality settling in. It does not arrive with a single storm, but in time becomes our permanent weather. Our choices are slowly replaced by obligations we cannot meet.

“My days are filled with things I have to do instead of things I want to do. Every decision requires caution, planning, or sacrifice, and I no longer feel free to make simple choices without thinking about the consequences. I spend much of my time managing limitations instead of enjoying life, and those restrictions have become part of my daily routine.

“There are many days when I feel worn down by the belief that nothing is going to change. I struggle to find anything to anticipate or plan for beyond getting through another day of work and responsibility. Life often feels like an endless cycle with no pause, no relief, and no clear expectation that tomorrow will be any different from today.

“When I think about the future, I expect more struggle than relief. I worry that my health will continue to decline, that financial pressures will keep me working for the rest of my life, and that I will never have enough time or resources to enjoy the things I once loved. I do not expect my circumstances to improve, and I often see the future as a continuation of the burdens I already carry. Because of that, my greatest hope is not for a better life here, but for the day Christ returns and my suffering comes to an end.

But here is where the story about a man who built on sand can pivot to a different ending. He witnessed another man survive the storm. Saw that his neighbor built on the Rock. Jesus calls us to, “Put my words into practice.” Not simply read His words, DO His words.

“And yet, even in all this, I’m thankful to God for what I still have, and I find my greatest comfort in my faith and in the companionship of my dogs and cats.”

We don’t know the outcome for the man who built on the sand. We don’t know if he started over on the Rock. But we have the Holy Spirit’s words on the matter: “Without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.”

If any of this resonates and you’re unsure how to rebuild on the Rock, reach out. There is no magic to enjoying the abundant life Jesus promised. The instructions are in plain view. But sometimes it helps to have someone walk with you and give you a “word” and a small degree of accountability.

Step One Today: Read the first three chapters of the Gospel of Mark. Each time you see someone encounter Jesus, imagine that is you. Because the truth is, through His Holy Spirit, in that story He is reaching out to you.

The quoted comments is a fictional composite drawn from years of conversations. If it sounds like you, it’s not — it’s your neighbor. Probably the one with the loud dog.

Prayer is receiving a treasure that is already yours, but Old Cutter McGee didn’t know this. McGee spent forty years sailing the Caribbean in search of a treasure chest his dying captain swore was buried “where the sun sets twice.” He charted every island from Hispaniola to the Windwards. He bribed Sailing Masters, hired Powder Monkeys to dig in the dark, and once traded his last doubloon for a map that turned out to be a laundry list written in Spanish. Look alive, he told his crew each dawn, and each dawn they looked alive and found nothing.

When Cutter finally made port for the last time — old, broke, and three sheets to the wind — his granddaughter met him at the dock, holding a letter. It had arrived forty years prior, the week he’d set sail. His captain, it turned out, had already transferred the deed to the treasure. The chest was Cutter’s from the moment the old man signed the paper. It had been sitting in a harbormaster’s vault in Nassau the entire time, drawing interest.

Cutter McGee had spent his whole life seeking what was already his. He only needed to receive it.

And in many ways, we all be Cutter McGee.

Peter — Old Pete — once accused Paul of saying things hard to accept, understand, and decipher (2 Peter 3:15-16). In 2 Corinthians 4:18, Paul says:

“We fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

Read that fast, and it sounds like a riddle to an Irish jig. Read it slowly, and it starts rearranging the battens in the sails without asking. Paul is saying that the hammock you’re lying in right now is less real than the throne of God in heaven. Like, if the fabric suddenly disappeared, and you landed on your backside, you might be surprised, but Paul would whisper — through the Holy Spirit — “I warned you.”

Above the Sea Is Where Your Prayer Begins

God spoke, and the natural world showed up. Jesus — the eternal Word who was with God in the beginning (John 1:1-3) — left heaven and stepped from the unseen realm into the natural world. Heave to and clap eyes on this: before any ship sailed, before any sea existed to sail on, the unseen realm was already full.

The temple Moses built was a precise replica of something that already existed in heaven (Hebrews 8:5). God essentially handed him the blueprints and said, “Don’t mess this up.” The new Jerusalem doesn’t rise from earth to become heaven; it descends from heaven to earth (Revelation 21:2). The Ark? God gave Noah schematics, a materials list, and a manifest (Genesis 6:14-16). All because each existed in the spiritual realm before man could see it with natural eyes.

The bread broken at Passover was a portrait of a body that brought healing and daily sustenance (1 Corinthians 11:24, John 6:35). God’s Sabbath rest — one day a week — is a lifetime of His promises for all who believe in Christ (Hebrews 4:9-10). The earthly priesthood, with its incense, altars, and golden bowls, was a glimpse of what John saw in his Revelation of Jesus (Hebrews 9:23-24; Revelation 8:3-5).

Even our prayers of needs and wants and aches — when we delight and abide in Him — come from the spiritual realm (Psalm 37:4). The direction of flow is always the same: from the greater reality of the unseen world to the lesser world that will pass away (1 John 2:17). We think what we build, love, and leave will last, but deep down we know that’s not true. All become but a memory, a legacy. And within generations, even that fades. (Your great-great-grandchildren will not remember that you got a great parking spot, either. File that away.)

The Treasure Was Buried for You Alone Before You Set Sail

The Father, outside of time, finishes the works. All of them. Hebrews 4:3 says the works were finished from the foundation of the world. Before your name was spoken into existence. Time itself is a created thing, which means the One who created it stands outside it (2 Timothy 1:9, Titus 1:2). He doesn’t experience before and after the way we do. He simply is (Exodus 3:14, John 8:58), which, if you think about it too long, will do more to your furniture than Paul did.

Inside that same eternal moment, He prepared the good works you will walk in (Ephesians 2:10). He purchased your healing (Isaiah 53:5; 1 Peter 2:24). He sealed your redemption (Revelation 13:8). He knew you before you were formed (Jeremiah 1:5). He placed desires in you (Psalm 37:4). The way a father, before his child draws a first breath, is already planning — that’s God. That’s eternal living. That is, if you’ll pardon the expression, a prize worth more than any plunder a pirate ever hauled over the side.

And if you are in Christ, you are already in that kingdom. Jesus declared it to the thief on the cross: “Today you will be in paradise” (Luke 23:43). The thief died, yes. But Jesus also died. Then rose and lives (Romans 6:9). So where is paradise? It is in Christ. He is your life lived to its fullest (Colossians 3:4), and all His riches are yours in Him (Ephesians 1:3).

His Spirit takes up residence inside you (Romans 8:11) and begins doing something quiet and persistent — tugging you toward something, someone, without you knowing why. His Spirit pulls us toward the will of God (Romans 8:26-27), praying in alignment with what is already finished. The Spirit inside you, who searches the deep things of God (1 Corinthians 2:10-12), is showing you a finished work. The nudge is from Him (Philippians 2:13). The prayer was His before it was yours (Romans 8:26-27). Your prayer is the moment you reach out and take hold of what was already yours (Matthew 7:7-8; 1 John 5:14-15).

Which means the moment you feel that quiet pull — that nudge toward a person, a need, a word you keep returning to — you are not generating something new. You are recognizing something old. Something prepared. Something with your name already on it, waiting in a room the Father furnished before you arrived.

Like a treasure chest in a harbormaster’s vault in Nassau. With your name on the deed.

X Marks the Spot — Now Pray and Dig

Jesus explains prayer in one sentence: “The Son can do only what he sees” (John 5:19). He’s speaking of His Father’s activity, but in eternity, all is complete. God rested from His work (Hebrews 4:3). John saw this and gave us the pattern. Bear a hand and look alive — this is where it gets good.

An angel stands at the golden altar before God’s throne. The angel receives incense to offer and the prayers of all God’s people. Those prayers — your words, prayed in your car, or your kitchen, or your 2 a.m. sleeplessness — are gathered and held in golden bowls (Revelation 5:8). They go up to God like incense (Psalm 141:2). Our palms turned upward, our hands raised — this posture He counts as our sacrifice. Why?

Because an earthly sacrifice shows total trust in a god, a desperate act of giving something of monetary value to gain something man perceives as of greater value. It’s a transaction, and it is costly. Trust is worship. It elevates the object of our faith. And faith in God is precious in His sight (1 Peter 2:7). In fact, He says, without faith, without the sacrifice of total dependence, we cannot please Him (Hebrews 11:6). Trust, faith, and reverence for His power and might — this is the type of worship that can only happen in spirit. And Jesus tells us these are those His Father seeks (John 4:23). Why?

Because they have not only His ear, but His heart. This is a relationship: face-to-face in the spiritual realm. Him seeding His desire in us; us longing to see Him do the very thing He desires (Psalm 37:4, Philippians 2:13).

Cannon Smoke Goes Up — Fire on the Water Is Ours

In Revelation 8, the angel adds fire to the censer filled with our prayers and hurls it to the earth. In the natural, the result is thunder, lightning, and an earthquake. What went up as words came back as firepower, and it shakes the natural realm. We stop. Stunned, we look around. We know something huge is happening, and it’s not our doing. By thunder — it never was.

Elijah prays on Carmel, and fire falls and consumes the offering, the wood, the stones, and the standing water (1 Kings 18:36-38). Apparently, God wanted to be thorough: to remove any doubt that what just happened was a random natural act. The disciples pray for ten days in the upper room (Acts 1:14). The result? Tongues of fire descend on Pentecost (Acts 2:3). Isaiah encounters the seraph who takes a hot coal from that same heavenly altar and touches his lips with it (Isaiah 6:6-7). Nobody’s face melted, but it wasn’t exactly a spa day either.

The mechanism is consistent. What rises as prayer returns as fire. Circumstances change. Hearts change. People change.

Skipper Takes What Ye Offer and Sets It Ablaze for Praise

Revelation describes the seven Spirits of God as seven torches of fire burning before the throne (Revelation 4:5) — and as seven eyes sent out into all the earth (Revelation 5:6). Isaiah 11:2 names six expressions of that one Spirit resting on the Messiah: wisdom, understanding, counsel, might, knowledge, and the fear of the Lord.

Elijah on Carmel needed the fear of the Lord restored to a nation. Fire fell. Then the people fell on their faces and cried, “The Lord, He is God” (1 Kings 18:39). The fire matched their true needs.

The disciples needed power to do the work Jesus commanded. They needed His dunamis — dynamite power — to be witnesses to the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8). Blimey, tongues of fire set them on fire for the Lord.

Isaiah needed his lips purified and his understanding opened to carry a word he would speak for decades. A coal of fire from the altar touched his lips and made him a holy messenger (Isaiah 6:6-7). The man began by saying, “Send me,” and became the author of the “Fifth Gospel” of Christ. Not a bad return on one very uncomfortable coal.

So What Be the Prize Ye Seek?

What is your need, your want, your desire? Think of the immediate yes, but also the long-lasting yearnings. Does your plea align with God’s will? Not sure what His will is? Simply read Scripture. God is clear: the enemy comes to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10). Jesus came to destroy that work and replace it with abundant life (1 John 3:8; John 10:10). For freedom, you have been set free (Galatians 5:1). So adopt the attitude of a child — because unless you change and learn to ask, trust, and expect from the Father like a child, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 18:3).

The Father has already given you the desires of your heart (Psalm 37:4). He gave them before you were born (Ephesians 2:10). Your prayer is simply His desire in you to ask for what already resides in the heavenly realm.

Don’t be a lubber about this. Don’t stand on the dock squinting at the horizon, wondering if there’s treasure out there somewhere, writing off the whole enterprise because the map seems hard to read. The Quartermaster has already settled the accounts. The prize is divided. Your share is waiting.

There is no need to feel guilty about asking for the desire He placed in your heart. Instead, name the need. Ask. Speak the word.

Your prayer is a child reaching for what their Father already set aside. Your prayer is a pleasing incense that will set your heart ablaze (Revelation 5:8, Psalm 141:2). Your prayer is the finished work of an eternal God, bringing His will in heaven to earth (Matthew 6:10).

Your prayer is His kingdom coming into your life, ye may lay to that.

Now grab the map and shovel and start digging.

Set Sail with Jesus

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Set sail with Jesus and dig into the heavenly riches that are already yours.