Originally streamed on YouTube
What feels enormous when you look at it through fear looks different when you look at it through faith.
What if my "giant" feels too big to even name?
Sometimes the worst giants are the unnamed ones — the heaviness you can't quite point at. David's first move w...
Sometimes the worst giants are the unnamed ones — the heaviness you can't quite point at. David's first move wasn't to attack Goliath; it was to ask a question that named him: "Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?" Naming the thing — to a friend, in prayer, on paper — strips it of half its power. You're not making it bigger by saying it. You're making it answerable.
I've been running from this for a long time. What if I'm just not strong enough?
Running is exhausting because giants follow you. Pastor Kevin said it plainly: "Running is not an option." But...
Running is exhausting because giants follow you. Pastor Kevin said it plainly: "Running is not an option." But here's what's also true — you don't beat a giant with your own strength. David refused Saul's armor and came in the name of the Lord (1 Samuel 17:45). You don't have to feel ready or capable. You just can't try to match the giant on its own ground.
How do I tell the difference between fear and wisdom?
Fear looks at the giant and freezes. Wisdom looks at the giant and asks better questions. The Israelite soldie...
Fear looks at the giant and freezes. Wisdom looks at the giant and asks better questions. The Israelite soldiers saw Goliath's size; David saw a man defying God. Same giant, different lens. If your "fear" is keeping you from a hard but right thing — a conversation, a step toward healing, a return to church — that's not wisdom. That's the giant talking.
I keep giving the devil more airtime than God in my prayers — how do I stop?
Pastor Kevin caught this honestly: "We talk about the devil too much. We give him too much credit." A prayer t...
Pastor Kevin caught this honestly: "We talk about the devil too much. We give him too much credit." A prayer that spends ten minutes describing the giant and thirty seconds remembering God has the proportions backwards. Spend most of your words on who God is. The giant doesn't shrink because we ignore it; it shrinks because we see God clearly.
I'm tired. What if my faith feels too small for this fight?
God didn't pick the biggest, brightest, or most prepared. He picked a teenage shepherd whose own family forgot...
God didn't pick the biggest, brightest, or most prepared. He picked a teenage shepherd whose own family forgot to call him in from the field. "He used little things and little people," Pastor Kevin said, "so all the glory goes back to him." Your tiredness doesn't disqualify you. Bring what little you have — a sling, a stone, a willing yes — and let God do the rest.
Pastor Kevin Brown opened with a pastoral observation — he wasn't the only one thinking about giants lately. We all encounter them: on the job, on the train, at home, and in our own minds. And running isn't a real option, because giants follow you home.
From 1 Samuel 17, he traced David's posture. The whole army of Israel saw Goliath and ran. David saw the same man and asked a different question: "Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?" That single shift — defining the giant through the lens of faith instead of fear — changes everything. The lens of faith puts giants in the box where they belong, because there is nothing bigger than God.
His honest confession landed hard: he himself had been scared to come back to ministry. Facing his giant, for him, looked like walking to the pulpit anyway. So whatever your giant is — at work, at church, at home, in your own head — you don't have to feel ready. You just can't run.
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