Bill Johnson - How Every Challenge Can Actually Propel You Forward
Right outside here, we have a prayer house, and I was over on this side of the prayer house one day. There was this hawk above the prayer house that caught my eye, and I just watched him. He didn’t flap his wings at all; he just went in a circle above the prayer house, getting higher and higher until he was almost out of sight. Then he folded his wings and dove. It was just the coolest thing! I wish I would have had a video, you know, because he rode the currents. He recognized that there are many times we face adverse winds, and we don’t realize it’s those winds that give us access to going higher. We misinterpret the moment; and when you misinterpret the moment, you won’t talk right, and the condition of your heart won’t be right.
The analogy that I usually use in this context is a sailboat. A sailboat, by adjusting the sail and the rudder, can actually sail against the wind; it’s extraordinary! The sail represents your heart attitude, and the rudder is your tongue, your speech. By managing our attitudes well and confessing well, we can make advancements against adverse winds. Adverse winds in the kingdom are invitations for breakthrough, but we tend to see them differently than He does. If I’m not positioned well in my heart, if I’m not positioned well in what I’m willing to speak, confess, and declare over my life, I can actually partner in thought and conversation with the enemy’s reason for sending the adverse winds, empowering what the enemy meant for evil. Suddenly, it has an effect of destruction.
But the enemy has no authority over you; he can only get authority from those who have it, and that would be you and me. Returning to this analogy of riding the thermals is something I have tried to practice for years. I remember Bob Jones, what a wonderful man and a dear friend of this house. He was a great prophet of the Lord; personally, I miss him. He’s home in heaven, but I still miss him. He was able to function outside of normal reality. I remember he once talked about eagles. Eagles have this special covering over their eye lens, enabling them to fly toward the sun when a predator chases them. The other bird, wanting to do damage, cannot handle looking into the sun, but the eagle can.
So, I’ve made it a practice for many years; there are times when I’ll just be driving down the road, or maybe walking, and a horrible thought, idea, or accusation comes to mind. I’ve tried to make it an almost instinctive reaction—something so ingrained that I react before I think. When something like that comes, I lift my head up. The scripture says, «Lift up your heads, O you gates.» He’s the glory and the lifter of our heads. I don’t know if He meant an actual physical posture or not, but I’m going for it. In those situations, I consciously go, «That thought came; that is not mine. I’m going towards the sun where the enemy cannot follow.»
This whole idea of riding the thermals—the adverse winds the enemy sends our way—can come in personal issues, discouragement, or fatigue. Sometimes if the enemy can’t get me to do wrong things, he’ll get me to overextend myself in the right things. Fatigue can actually give birth to unbelief, leading to a jaded, resistant heart. We become accustomed to activity instead of relationship; it doesn’t happen in a moment. It’s a gradual change where we learn to live in routine, allowing distance to form in that tenderness and intimacy with the Lord.
If it had happened overnight, it would be easier to spot, but it’s such a slow turning. With that busyness, I become more calloused and jaded and eventually resistant toward the very thing I’ve been crying out for. Here’s this opportunity the Lord gives us, and I want you to look at this verse in Psalms 23. I’ll use this as a symbolic verse for the few minutes more that I want to talk to you аbout: Psalms 23:1. «The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.»
You know, when I was sick a few years ago, I had a real battle with my health. I would read this day after day, meditating on individual words, phrases, and statements until it came alive. You want to see this: this is eternal, the eternal word of God. You want to give occasion, time, and effort for Him to truly allow roots to go down into your soul where what God has said begins to affect your personality. He restores my soul.
Verse three continues, «He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.» Here’s the verse I want you to focus on: «You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.»
Say this with me: «Goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.» That is absolutely true. Now, here’s the verse I want you to look at: «You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.» It’s fairly common when someone wants prayer; they’ll come and request it. I’m not criticizing anyone who does this; I’m just trying to illustrate something. Someone might come and say, «I’m being so harassed by the enemy right now.»
Of course, I’ll pray for them and provide counsel as needed in that moment. But because we don’t see situations as they are—we see the enemy’s attack, hear his voice, and feel the tension of the moment—what we often don’t realize is that it’s in that atmosphere that Jesus set up a banqueting table. He set up a place to feast in the presence of the enemy.
So, I’m sitting here with Jesus, but I don’t realize I’m sitting here with Him because I hear the harassment coming, I see the tension, and I’m filled with Christian activity, rebuking and binding, exhausting myself because the nourishment is supposed to come from the meal before me. The nourishment, the strength, and the reinforcement of who He made me to be—God intentionally threw the banquet where the enemy could see.
Now, when the Lord says you’re hidden, you’re not hidden out of view; you’re hidden out of reach. Come on, because sometimes the moment we think is the darkest is actually the brightest; it’s only dark because of whose eyes we’re looking into. When we look into the eyes of the father of lies, entertained by the voice of accusation, we construct that reality all around us. A simple turning of my attention toward what the Scripture says reveals there’s a table—a table of feasting, a table of goodness, a table of encounter, a table of delight—a table whereby I am strengthened and nourished.
Jesus made this statement that has rocked my life: «My food is to do the will of Him who sent me.» There’s something nourishing about just being in the center of what God is saying and doing. So, here you are in the middle of what you think is a hellish moment that, by God’s design, is actually a heavenly moment. But it doesn’t become heavenly until I remove my focus from what’s working against me and turn my focus to who’s working for me. And it’s the exact same moment.
All it took was a shift in perspective. It’s not pretending—denial doesn’t help any of us. Pretending something isn’t there—maybe a health scare, or financial crisis, or relational issue—whatever it might be, pretending doesn’t help. But not letting it rule my heart does help. The way I like to state it is that real faith doesn’t deny a problem’s existence; it just denies the problem a place of influence.
So, you take the moment you’re in, I intentionally lift my head. It may seem silly, I don’t know, but I walk my property and lift my head because I’m celebrated by a perfect Father who gave me grace. It was a gift I couldn’t earn or qualify for on my own, but Jesus qualified me. He took the exam for me, and I passed. Come on! I wish I would have known that in school; I could have done a lot better. He took the exam for me, passed on my behalf, and gave me the grade—it’s called grace.
Because of that, the moment that seems, in my natural estimation, to be the most dangerous, cluttered, distracting, and abusive is actually my finest moment because He prepared the table—the table of nourishment, fellowship, intimacy, tenderness, genuine friendship. He put the table in place and makes the devil watch. The enemy can do nothing about it!
David was rejected by Saul, by Israel, and by the Philistines; now he was rejected by the guys who owed him their lives. It’s hard to imagine what this king felt like. He had been prophesied over to be king. I don’t know what you do, but I start wondering, «Did I hear right?» If there’s anything that didn’t look right, it certainly doesn’t seem it’s being fulfilled; it looks like a case is being built, growing stronger and stronger that what I heard from the Lord wasn’t right.
Here’s a guy who goes through a series of rejections—we’re talking not about a bad weekend or a challenging season but 13 years of being chased by a crazy man. The last straw was that he had 600 discouraged guys riding his vision for a season who now couldn’t remember one good thing that had ever happened. They began talking among themselves, «Let’s kill David.»
David found himself alone. I know this is hard to explain and understand because 90% of our lives come from drawing strength from one another. A large portion of our lives is about community—learning how to live as a body, dependent on one another, seeking counsel, getting prayer, prophesying over each other, and receiving prophetic words.
That’s our life, but with a little sliver of time, what I do with that 10% of my life determines what weight of responsibility the Lord can trust me with. In that 10%, Jesus will blind the eyes and deafen the ears of those closest to my heart to put me in a position where I have to learn how to minister to myself. It’s not about building independence; everything else He does is to strengthen us.
David wanted to build a temple, but God wouldn’t talk to him—it’s a bizarre story. God would not speak to him except through Nathan and Gad. He didn’t want David to become independent in his service to the Lord; He wanted him to be dependent upon the gifts that would speak the right word at the right time into his life.
So, oftentimes, the Lord will withhold things from us until we’re with the right people. Then, there’s that touch, that prayer, that prophetic word, or that shared scripture—whatever it might be. A bulk of our life is made up of this, but there’s a little sliver where the Lord says, «Alright, you’ve been rejected here, here, and here, and now the guys you relied on have turned on you.»
What do you do? David strengthened himself in the Lord. I remember as a young pastor having to learn that. I was encouraged when I finally read the story in scripture and saw what was required of David. It doesn’t give us an outline; I don’t think we’re supposed to have a formula, but we are to recognize the things that affirm and strengthen us.
We should be able to look back at our lives and recall, «Oh man, when I faced that, God prophesied; you gave this word; I was reading scripture, and you spoke to me here.» We learn the ways of the Lord by reviewing our own histories—what broke through in the midst of lack and abundance.
Whenever I was in trouble—by «in trouble» I’m referring to situations for which I had no answer, no direction—I prayed, cried out to God, fasted, and did everything I knew to do, and I just wasn’t getting an answer or breakthrough. I learned during a particularly difficult season the concept of strengthening myself in the Lord and what that looked like.
What it came down to were three critical things I quickly turn to as my default—automatically, without having to think about it. The first is I go into the Word. I will read scripture. People say, «I read 10 chapters; I didn’t hear anything.» Well, read 10 more! I prayed for two hours; nothing happened? Great! Pray two more tomorrow! Do whatever you need to do.
Yes, it may seem like nothing is happening, but that is not true. You can’t immerse yourself in the heart and mind of God and not have some effect, even if it may not come as an explosive invasion of God in your life. It may be a subtle turning, but change is happening because it is impossible to expose yourself to the heart and mind of God and not experience transformation.
Sometimes, it happens as a thundering word, and those are my favorite! I prefer the suddenlies of God much more than the slow movements. That’s just something to which I have to adjust; it’s the norm for me. But once in a while, I receive a suddenly, and I go, «Oh, thank you! I’ve been waiting a long time for this.»
People say, «Well, I don’t remember what I read in the Bible.» I say, «That’s fine; I don’t remember what I had for breakfast last Friday, but it still nourished me.» There’s still nourishment that takes place, and there’s this slow burn of transformation when we expose ourselves. So that’s what I do. I read—I can take you to what I read this morning about a particular verse I need for a current situation in my life, reminding myself of the mind of the Lord and the heart of the Lord, strengthening myself.
The second thing I do is worship. There’s a freedom, deliverance, and liberty that takes place in His presence that you can’t find anywhere else. I remember in Weaverville, I lived behind the church and would go over to the church facilities late at night. I’d cry out to God for hours. It took me a while to learn this, but there were times I would pray and pray but couldn’t get out from under that cloud.
I don’t know if this makes sense to anyone else, but that cloud would follow me into the sanctuary, and it would leave when I left. There were times when that was exactly what happened! I learned something: I could not pray myself out from under that cloud, but I could dance my way out from under it.
My dance today looks a little different than 40 years ago; I might lose body parts if I do what I used to do. But I could shout my way out! In other words, that dark cloud that seems to veil the heart and thoughts of our life couldn’t be prayed away, but if I made a decision for joy, this may sound strange, I could choose to express rejoicing regardless of the absence of joy.
It would break in, and it wouldn’t take long—just a few minutes, and it was a different game altogether. I learned that anyone can hang their head and sing, «Thou art worthy.» It’s easy to hang your head and acknowledge God’s worth while still feeling terrible about your life and situation, but it’s hard to rejoice and stay that way.
It’s challenging to keep believing a lie when you choose joy. Sometimes that expression of joy, a willful act of joy, is the fastest way out of that cloud of oppression and difficulty because it’s choosing joy. What is it to choose joy? I think sometimes it’s the greatest expression of faith!
The third thing I do, and this may sound contradictory, is that there is healing in community. Again, 90% of our life involves reaching out to friends, confessing, asking for help, and having them pray for us and prophesy over us. That’s a huge part of my life, and I’m likely alive today because of it.
However, sometimes, it’s important that I don’t tell people around me what’s wrong. If you’re anything like me, it’s easy to become addicted to the attention that comes from our problems, and our identification can start to become the problem we face. Take the blind Bartimaeus example; once he gets healed, he loses that identity.
We become identified with our troubles; we like being cared for, served, and helped. Infants all grow up this way, and in a way, it’s fine, but at some point, when you’re 20 and still relying on others, it’s time to grow up. Sometimes it’s just important to spend time in community without making my problems the reason for our meetings.
We’ll have coffee because I value you; you value me, and we spend time together. Does that make sense? Sometimes we need that community where they don’t know anything, and yet they share a testimony that perfectly resonates with what we need. It’s not them trying to help; it’s them just being alive in Christ, loving us, that provides what is necessary to pull us out. We must strengthen ourselves and take responsibility for our own strength.
James 1:2 says, «My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials.» Is anyone else really displeased with that verse? «Count it all joy"—he doesn’t just say «suck it up and endure.» He invites us into joy!
He says, «Count it all joy; add it up when you encounter various trials.» The end result is that you’ll be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. The implication is: if I don’t count it joy when I face certain trials, I will remain incomplete and immature, always lacking.
Here’s the key: how do you extract nutrients out of a trial? There are many people going through trials who are not becoming more like Jesus. The trial itself doesn’t do it! When you give thanks in the midst of that trial, as He says, «In everything give thanks,» you tap into how to extract those nutrients from what the enemy designed to destroy you.
The Lord reverses the effect so that the very thing that was intended to harm you will promote you into maturity, stability, and provision. He sees the end from the beginning. He can come to you and say, «This isn’t a joke; I’m really telling you the truth; you can be happy right here at this moment.»
When that trial comes, you start getting happy, choosing joy, offering thanks, and you will find that what was meant to destroy you is the very thing that brings you triumph, completeness, strength, and provision. The provision is there in the trial, and this isn’t just to help you endure. Yes, endurance is vital—He who endures to the end shall be saved. I understand that.
But this particular invitation is for triumph; it’s for vindication; it’s the opportunity to reverse what was meant to take you out and instead provide access for personal gain. That’s how He thinks!
Let me read to you a random verse from Numbers. This morning, while thinking about it, I opened right to it. It’s in Numbers 14, when Joshua and Caleb had spied out the promised land. They came back with a good report while ten other spies gave a bad report.
In verse 7, Joshua and Caleb said, «The land we pass through to spy out is an exceedingly good land. If the Lord delights in us, He will bring us into the land and give it to us, a land which flows with milk and honey. Only do not rebel against the Lord nor fear the people of the land, for they are our bread. Their protection has departed from them, and the Lord is with us; do not fear them.»
Think about this: the problem that intimidates you is actually your breakfast! This is in the Bible, not a comic book or the news—this is actual word of God being expressed by two men who refused to live in fear.
These guys, who chose to live in accordance with the promise, saw the giants—who terrified the nation—as breakfast! What does bread do? It nourishes! Many people are spiritually fasting instead of devouring the enemy—they avoid and fear that which is meant to sustain them.
There are nutrients to be gained in the challenges we face; without the proper approach, fear prevails. You must see through His eyes. You can see through His eyes when you see with His promise. Seeing through the promise of the Lord means you can view your situation from His perspective. That’s why it’s called the promised land—the destiny of every believer is to live in a liberated place of promise!
So the giants that Israel feared were terrified of what kept them from the promised land. Two guys said, «No, they are bread. What you’re running from is dinner; what you’re avoiding will strengthen you.» Don’t fear the things that intimidate you right now; it’s your bread!
The thing that will sustain you, strengthen you, and define you is what is offered in the trials. Once this statement was made, the glory of the Lord appeared—His amen on their faith.
None of us have the option of not grieving or mourning. Mourning well is one of the signs of grace operating in our lives. It doesn’t mean we’ll always get it perfect; we just need to be headed in the right direction.
Some battles require intense effort—fasting, prayers, and decrees. Sometimes, all you have to do is just show up, and the Lord sends His angels to wipe out your enemy. Just show up! Sometimes, I don’t feel strong; I just show up.
I may tell God, «I don’t know what I’m doing,» and He responds, «This one’s on me,» and takes care of it. Other times, He gives me specific instructions: «Take this verse; make this decree; lay hands on this person.» Sometimes, He provides guidance, but you must be courageous enough to show up.
This relates to mourning. Mourning can lead us down one of two paths: one toward unbelief and one toward divine encounter.
Look in your Bibles at Mark 16; we’ll end with this thought. We must know how to manage and navigate our hearts. You don’t have to be strong; you don’t need to feel strong or full of faith. You simply have to show up!
If everyone in this room were to determine, «I will be faithful regardless of how I feel,» you would be amazed at what happens in and through your life over the next couple of years. Just the courage to show up!
God’s process is often slow, not because He is indifferent, but because His interest lies in the process, not just the outcome. I like the outcome; I like fulfilled promises. I savor the piano in the room, the child born after years of trying, the answers to breakthrough, the business opening—all those outcomes.
But what we are in the journey is what He values. It’s the daily decisions to renew the mind, putting on our lips the word of the Lord that we confess, declare, pray, sing, and prophesy. We take what God has said and what He is saying, guarding our hearts with those truths.
It’s in the journey—it’s the process that He values most. The outcome is easy; it requires nothing to pluck Israel from Egypt and plant them in the promised land. But without character, they won’t stay there. In fact, they’ll wander off if they have not journeyed to reach their destination.
The maturity developed during the journey is what keeps them there. For your life and mine, it’s the journey—the process—that enables us to steward the wealth of fulfillment of the promise. The delays help me see what I may miss otherwise.
I’m jokingly saying, remember this: «This cat has nine lives; I’m on my ninth.» I don’t need the fruits of the Spirit if I don’t have you in my life. Every one of us can distance ourselves from people and consider ourselves mature, but we may have no idea what living that life level is like, particularly when we have no conflict with anyone or need for patience from others.
If you had all the money in the world, you wouldn’t know what it’s like to fight for your next meal. You wouldn’t know what it’s like to pray for a breakthrough in simple things. The Lord brings about delays in His mercy so we can grow into maturity—people who can represent Him well in community.
Delays reveal what we don’t want to see but absolutely need to see. Delays give us a glimpse of dependence. The last comment I’ll make is that humility isn’t thinking of yourself poorly; it’s simply seeing yourself as you are. Delays allow us to see ourselves as we ought to.
I’m not praying for delays in your life; I pray for God to hurry. There’s a biblical prayer where the psalmist prays, «God, make haste!» Make haste means «hurry.» I pray that prayer, not because He’s going to act quickly, but because it’s comforting to know we can ask Him to.
The trials we’ve faced in recent days and the setbacks would have caused us to question previously, but now, we are aware of the beauty and strength He’s forming in us. You’re surprised at yourself that your first response was prayer instead of anger. Your first response was forgiveness instead of withdrawal. Your first response became, «I must walk a non-offended lifestyle.»
That was your first response, and a year ago, it wouldn’t have been the case. I remember as a kid getting a flat tire on my bike; I’d take it to the store for repair. They would take out the inner tube, inflate it, and put it under water—rotating it around until air bubbles exposed the holes.
Once they find the holes, they don’t put it back on the tire; they first patch it, fill it with air again, and put it under pressure again. The second time it’s under pressure, it’s not to expose where the leak was but to test whether the repair worked.
The Lord places us under pressure to reveal our needs so we can recognize, acknowledge, and confess. After He’s done His work, He puts us under pressure again, not to expose the leak but to demonstrate the confidence He’s instilled in us through His grace.
So Father, I pray for this grace to rest upon us as a church family—a grace that celebrates the process, giving thanks regardless of the situation because we know You are sovereign, good, and that You work all things together for good. We honor You for that. We thank You that Your promise holds true in the midst of great difficulty. We acknowledge that You are the faithful one—absolutely faithful, absolutely true—and we give You thanks.