Kill the Giant

There’s a sickness running deep in this generation.
It’s not just out there in the world.
It’s inside the ones who say they belong to Christ.

Their temples are poisoned.
Their minds are clogged.
Their dreams are dark — or missing altogether.
Their prayers feel hollow, heavy, like stones dropping into a dry well.

And when they feel that emptiness, they don’t fall on their knees and cry out:

No — they look outward.
They blame the world.
They blame their neighbors.
They blame the sinners walking the streets — the easy targets.

Because deep down, they don’t really believe they could be the problem.
They’re Christians.
In their minds, Christians don’t sin.
Not really.
Maybe a little stumble here and there — but nothing serious.
Nothing that would demand blood.

All the while, the poison stays.
All the while, the temple keeps rotting from the inside out.

With all that in mind, there’s something we’ve got to remember.
Two things can be true at the same time.
Scripture isn’t just a history book.
It’s a living mirror.

The Father — the Author of everything — knows how to weave real events that teach eternal truths.
David and Goliath really happened.
But it’s not just a story about a boy and a giant.
It’s a picture of the war happening inside every believer today.

This isn’t some New Age twisting.
It’s how the apostles understood Scripture:

David is the Spirit-led man.
The one who refuses Saul’s heavy armor.
The one who doesn’t trust human strength but trusts the living Christ.

And Goliath?
Goliath is pride.
Goliath is the towering flesh.
That loud, boasting strength that mocks holiness and defies the King of Kings.

Pride always looks bigger.
It always sounds stronger.
But it’s not.
It’s just louder.

When David stepped onto that battlefield, he didn’t wrestle Goliath to the ground.
He didn’t hack at his legs.
He didn’t swing wildly, hoping to land a blow.
He went straight for the mind.
Straight for the seat of rebellion.

One stone.
One blow.
Right between the eyes.

Because the mind was the true battleground then — and it still is today.

I’ve seen it in myself.
It was just a regular 7am start.
I was sitting at my desk — the smell of breakfast still in the air, the tick-tick of the my hard drive filling the silence.
I sent off a big project update.
Clicked send.
Felt that little burst of pride.

"I nailed it," I thought.
"They’re going to see how good I am."

It seemed harmless.
Just a small, private victory.

But later that night, with the Word of Christ open across my lap, the Spirit cut through the quiet.
That moment wasn’t harmless.
It wasn’t small.

It was pride — slipping through the cracks.
And I heard it, clear as day:
"Was that for Me... or for you?"

Pride doesn’t kick the door down.
It doesn’t march in with flashing lights.
It sneaks in.
It hides in our small victories, our secret thoughts, our unguarded moments.

And if it stands unchallenged, it becomes a giant.

And Goliath never stood alone.
Scripture says he had brothers.

When Goliath fell, the others fell too.

Because pride shelters other sins.
It covers them.
It gives them room to grow.

Envy.
Wrath.
Lust.
Greed.
Gluttony.
Sloth.

They all thrive under pride’s shadow.
If you leave pride standing, the others will keep rising.

I learned it again one sunny morning.
The house was still.
The air was dry and heavy.
I sat at my desk, blinking at a blank screen, my back aching from the weight of it all.

"Just push harder," I thought.
"Work through it. Force it."

I tried.
A few half-hearted clicks of the keyboard.
Then nothing.
Silence.
The frustration boiled inside me like a dam ready to break.

And then, in the stillness, the Spirit whispered:
"You are fighting in your own strength. Call on Me now."

I leaned back, closed my eyes, and let the confession slip out:
"Christ, I can’t do this without You."

That was the real beginning of the battle.
Not when I worked harder.
Not when I found new strategies.
But when I surrendered.

You can’t fix lust by trying harder.
You can’t tame anger with self-help.
You can’t silence envy with positive thinking.

If pride is still alive in you, the brothers will keep fighting back.

Pride is the shelter.
Pride is the root.
Pride is the voice that says, "I’m not the problem.
I’m fine.
I’m a Christian."

But the Word of Christ says otherwise:

When pride falls, everything it protects falls too.

When you finally stop defending yourself...
When you finally stop excusing yourself because of the label you wear...
When you finally confess your need for the blood of Christ every single day —
That’s when resurrection begins.

Not self-improvement.
Not better habits.
Not fresh resolutions.

Death to self.
New life in Christ.

Where is Goliath still standing in your mind today?
Where is pride whispering in your heart?

Throw off Saul’s armor.
Stop trusting the flesh.
Stop blaming the world.

Pick up your stone — the living Word.
Run toward the battle.
Strike pride at the forehead.
Kill it.

And when pride falls, chase down every sin it sheltered.

This is real Christianity.
This is true discipleship.
Not a polished reputation.
Not cultural comfort.

Real inner war.
Real death to pride.
Real resurrection in Christ.

The battlefield isn’t far away.
It’s not across the street.
It’s not across the world.

It’s inside you.
It’s inside me.
It’s inside all of us who call Christ our King.

Rise.
Pick up your stone.
The Spirit of the living Christ goes before you.

Now step onto the field.

Victory is already written.

Where has pride been allowed to stay in your life because it looked small or harmless?