Prodical Warrior – Forged in Failure. Restored by Grace.

Tag: Lance Tidwell Radio

  • Man’s Offense to the Gospel

    Man’s Offense to the Gospel

    Let’s be honest. The gospel does not begin by comforting us. It begins by confronting us.

    It walks straight up to the identity most of us spend our lives building: our work ethic, toughness, competence, morality, and control. And it says, “That is not enough.” It tells the man who works hard, pays the bills, shows up, and keeps it together that underneath the image and effort is a weakness he cannot fix on his own. That cuts against everything we want to believe about ourselves.

    God does not say this to shame us. He says it because He loves us enough to tell us the truth. The gospel wounds the lie so it can heal the soul.

    For me, it wasn’t just comfort or success or pleasure. It was microphones, platforms, and proximity to important people. I lived close to the spotlight and acted like that meant I mattered. The gospel stepped into the middle of that life and said, “None of this can save you. You are not the hero here. You are the one who needs rescuing.”

    “Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created.” — Revelation 4:11

    Everything in us wants a version of faith where we still get to wear the crown. But the real gospel removes it and puts it where it belongs — on Jesus Christ.

    We Are Not the Hero

    Jesus did not call us independent. He did not call us self-made. He called us sheep.

    “I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep.” — John 10:11

    That can offend us. We want to believe we are fine, strong, capable, and self-sufficient. But sheep are not impressive. They are fragile. They panic easily. They follow each other into danger. They get stuck, tangled, flipped over, and if no one intervenes, they die.

    And Jesus says, “That’s you.” He is not mocking us. He is naming our need so we can stop pretending we do not have one.

    “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.” — Isaiah 53:6

    We are not the shepherd. We are the sheep. And sheep do not rescue themselves. They follow the One who lays down His life to rescue them.

    We Are Not the Savior

    Scripture goes even deeper and calls the Church the Bride of Christ.

    “Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it.” — Ephesians 5:25

    If you’re a man, that may be hard to picture. I get it. I never wanted to be called a bride. But the point is not about clothing. The point is about position. We are not the savior in the story. We are the ones being loved, pursued, washed, and covered.

    The gospel keeps pulling the spotlight off of us and putting it on Jesus, where it belongs.

    Grace That Trains, Not Just Forgives

    Grace does not stop at forgiveness.

    “For the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world.” — Titus 2:11–12

    Grace does not flatter. Grace trains. It does not excuse sin. It breaks sin’s grip and teaches us how to live free.

    This is why the gospel still offends us. It confronts human pride. We want to believe we are basically okay — that we just need a little improvement, a little inspiration, a little religion.

    But the gospel says something else. We are not in control. We cannot save ourselves. We need mercy, not a makeover.

    “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God. Not of works, lest any man should boast.” — Ephesians 2:8–9

    Jesus did not model strength the way the world does.

    “For even the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many.” — Mark 10:45

    In His kingdom, strength looks like service. Authority looks like sacrifice. Life is found by losing it.

    Obedience, Not Lip Service

    A person can look spiritual on the surface and still resist God underneath. We can know the language, attend gatherings, even serve, and still keep certain areas off limits. We obey when it is convenient. We pray when we are scared. We call Jesus “Lord,” but we keep control.

    “And why call ye me, Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say?” — Luke 6:46

    Jesus does not ask for a corner of our life. He calls for the whole thing.

    And for some of us, the deepest wounds didn’t come from the world. They came from the church. Hypocrisy. Abuse of authority. People who talked about grace but practiced control. That pain is real. But armor built from bitterness does not protect us. It only keeps healing out.

    “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want… He restoreth my soul.” — Psalm 23:1, 3

    Healing does not come from finding a perfect church. It comes from returning to the perfect Shepherd often through faithful, imperfect people who point us back to Christ.

    The Gospel That Offends, Also Heals

    If this confronts you, you are not being rejected. You are being invited.

    If you are tired of holding it together, tired of proving yourself, tired of pretending you are fine while your soul is shrinking, that is not the end. That is the doorway.

    “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

    The gospel that offends our pride is the same gospel that rebuilds our life. It does not aim to make us smaller. It aims to make us whole.

    There is a throne. It is not ours.

    Take the crown off. Come to Christ. Follow the Shepherd.

    A Final Word

    If you do not know Jesus, or you go to church and want more meat than milk, look for a church that preaches the gospel. You will know when you hear it. Most of the time, it is not where the rooms are massive and the lights and music are loud and the message just flatters. Many of those gatherings have turned into concerts with smooth words that tell us we are fine.

    The real gospel does not flatter us. It tells the truth about our sin. Then it lifts our eyes to a real Savior, a bloody cross, an empty tomb, and a risen King who is worth our whole life.

  • When You’re Done Negotiating with Jesus

    When You’re Done Negotiating with Jesus

    There comes a moment, sometimes more than one, when the life a man has been carrying collapses under its own weight. Not because Jesus failed him, but because the version of faith he built could not survive the truth. I know that place. I know it well.

    What collapsed was not Christ’s faithfulness. What collapsed was my attempt to keep sin and keep Jesus at the same time. I tried to live divided: close enough to God to feel safe, far enough to stay in control. That kind of life does not hold.

    “A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.” — James 1:8

    I did not leave God because I was smarter than faith. I walked away because I was tired of pretending. I wanted forgiveness without surrender. Grace without training. Christ as Savior, not as Lord. So I ran. Slowly at first. Then faster. Compromise followed compromise until despair felt more honest than belief. Eventually, I stopped saying, “I’m struggling.” I started saying, “There is no God.” That was not reason. That was exhaustion soaked in sin.

    God did not argue with me. He let me collapse. He let my confidence run out. He let my image fall apart. He let my ability to manage appearances fail. Not because He is cruel, but because He is a Father who loves too much to leave a son pretending.

    “For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.” — Hebrews 12:6

    I did not need motivation. I needed death, death to negotiating, death to managing, death to the lie that I could follow Jesus on my terms.

    “We are buried with him by baptism into death… that we should walk in newness of life.” — Romans 6:4

    I come from a line of faithful men. Ministers. Obedient men. I knew better, and that made the fall feel final. Disqualified. Finished. That weight stayed on me until I heard what happened to my grandfather. He was in his mid-eighties. He fell down the stairs and broke his leg. While sitting there in pain, he did not curse, rage, or complain. He leaned back and said, “Well… praise the Lord.” When I heard that, it crushed me. I remember thinking, I will never be that man.

    But now I see it clearly. That was not grit. That was grace. It was the fruit of a life shaped by decades of surrender. And that same grace is available for men like me. And people like us.

    In Luke 9, Jesus sets His face toward the cross. And men begin offering to follow Him, with conditions. One says, “I will follow You anywhere.” Jesus replies, “Foxes have holes, and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.” Others say the same familiar words: “Let me first.” Let me fix this. Let me get through that. Let me clean myself up.

    “No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.” — Luke 9:62

    Jesus does not ask for intentions. He calls for allegiance. Managing God and managing sin does not work. If you belong to Him, He will not leave you comfortable in what is killing you. I can say it now without bitterness. I thank God He let me collapse.

    Grace does more than pardon. Grace teaches. Grace trains. Grace changes what a man loves.

    “The grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly.” — Titus 2:11–12

    When I stepped away from a decades-long career, it was not loss. It was mercy. I needed Scripture. I needed silence. I needed presence. I needed to stop performing, no platforms and finally sit with God and let Him deal with me.

    This is not about cleaning up your image. This is about coming to Christ.

    “The wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” — Romans 6:23

    The turning point is not, “I will do better.” It is, “I will come.”

    “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.” — John 6:37

    If you are exhausted, not just from pain, but from living half-hidden and half-obedient, hear me: the collapse you faced or face today may be mercy. Do not confuse delay with wisdom. Do not confuse holding it together with faith. Do not confuse “let me first” with obedience.

    Let it fall. Let it die. And let Jesus raise something new. No backup plan. No secret compromise. No more negotiating. Follow Him. Not because you earned it. But because He has always been worthy.

    If you do not know Jesus, or you are in church and starving for something deeper, find a church that preaches the gospel. Look for the cross. Look for repentance. Look for Jesus at the center. You will know it when you hear it. And often it will not be in a massive room with loud lights and smooth words. Too many gatherings have become concerts with pep talks.

    The real gospel does not flatter us. It tells the truth about our sin, then lifts our eyes to a real Savior, a bloody cross, an empty tomb, and a risen King who is worth your whole life.

  • Overcoming Without Performing

    Overcoming Without Performing

    Revelation 12:11

    I need to start with a confession: I can quietly turn something holy into something about me. I can talk about fruit and start measuring people. I can tell my testimony and somehow make it a platform. And if I can do that, so can you. The heart is slick like that.

    That’s why this verse needs care, not because it’s fragile, but because we are:

    “And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death.” — Revelation 12:11

    There’s an order here that protects us.
    Blood first. Testimony second. Cost third.

    Keep the order, and you get worship and endurance. Scramble it, and you get fear, performance, or Pharisees.

    1. “By the blood of the Lamb”

    Revelation 12 is not a feel-good chapter. It’s a war chapter. The enemy is “the accuser,” pressing charges against the saints day and night. And this verse tells us how his accusations are silenced:

    Not by cleaning up our image.
    Not by crafting a story that sounds good.
    Not by pretending we’ve never struggled.
    But by the blood of the Lamb.

    Victory starts outside of us, with what Jesus did. When Satan accuses, he’s often pointing at real sin. But here’s the difference for the believer: our sin has been answered. Not excused. Answered.

    That’s why Paul can say we’re justified “without the deeds of the law” (Romans 3:28), and that there’s “no condemnation” for those in Christ (Romans 8:1). Condemnation is a sentence. Conviction is mercy.

    Miss this and you’ll start hustling for peace. You’ll treat obedience like a payment plan, hoping God will finally relax His face toward you.

    That’s not Christianity.
    That’s slavery with church clothes on.

    Blood first keeps Christ at the center. Always.

    2. “By the word of their testimony”

    Testimony isn’t the engine. The blood is. Testimony is witness, allegiance. It says: Jesus is Lord. His cross is enough. I belong to Him.

    When I was 14, I heard a girl stand up at a conference and say she had never done drugs or touched alcohol, had saved herself for marriage, and stood in awe of God’s keeping power. I already had a list of regrets, and I remember thinking: I wish that was my testimony.

    Now I know better.

    That was a strong testimony.
    Being kept is not a lesser miracle than being rescued.
    Sometimes the loudest grace is restraint.

    Our culture glorifies dramatic turnarounds, but that can quietly train us to think darkness makes a testimony powerful. It doesn’t. Jesus does.

    Sin doesn’t add shine. Sin kills. Grace raises the dead.

    A safe testimony always does two things:

    • It makes sin look deadly.
    • It makes Christ look precious.

    3. “They loved not their lives unto the death”

    This is not drama. It’s faithfulness.

    These believers didn’t overcome because they had impressive stories. They overcame because they belonged to Jesus more than they belonged to comfort. They would rather obey than negotiate. Rather lose reputation than lose Christ.

    This keeps the gospel from becoming self-help. Christianity doesn’t put us at the center, it moves the center to Jesus.

    Jesus said:

    “Without me ye can do nothing.” — John 15:5

    Fruit doesn’t create life. It reveals life.
    Obedience doesn’t earn love. It responds to it.
    Works don’t justify. They testify.

    But this doesn’t mean struggle = fake. Tender consciences panic when they hear “fruit” and think their weakness means they aren’t real. But the man who fights sin, confesses, repents, and comes back into the light, that’s life. Hypocrisy hides. Repentance agrees with God.

    The solution isn’t willpower. It’s surrender.

    “Search me, O God.” — Psalm 139:23
    Not performance. Just honesty.

    We don’t examine ourselves to see if God will love us. We examine ourselves because He already has.

    Grace first. Then fruit.
    Teach fruit without grace and you get fear.
    Teach grace without fruit and you get confusion.
    Scripture refuses both.

    My Story (Briefly)

    I lived double-minded. I wanted God, but on my terms. I knew Scripture well enough to be haunted by it, and still resisted surrender.

    Eventually, I ran to the end of myself. 

    Some of us were retrieved from ditches. Some were kept from them.
    Same blood. Same Savior. Same grace.

    The goal isn’t an impressive story.
    It’s a faithful life.

    We overcome:

    • By the blood of the Lamb — not spiritual hustle.
    • By the word of our testimony — not a curated image.
    • By loving Jesus more than comfort — not self-protection.

    Keep the order, and we won’t produce Pharisees or fearful strivers.
    We’ll produce people who are grateful, steady, and free.
    People who obey because they’ve been bought.
    Who tells the truth because the Lamb is worthy.
    Who keep walking when it costs them, because they’ve already found the only treasure worth losing everything for.

    If you want to know more about Jesus, find a gospel-preaching church. One that talks about sin, repentance, and the cross, not just comfort or behavior tips. The real gospel doesn’t flatter us. It saves us.

    “I am with thee… to save thee.” — Jeremiah 30:11

    Let the gospel tell the truth about your sin, then lift your eyes to a real Savior, a bloody cross, an empty tomb, and a King who is worth your whole life.

  • Is God the Author of Evil?

    Is God the Author of Evil?

    Three and a half years ago, I was a few miles from a beach in Florida, and I had a plan to end my life. I had wrecked my world. My choices, my disobedience, the pain I inflicted and endured, all came crashing down. My mind was exhausted from chasing my own will while pretending to follow God. I stood in the darkest hour of my soul.

    Under the Baker Act in Florida, while held in a facility, a chaplain spoke words that pierced through the stone I had wrapped around my heart. He said something like this: “I can pull a pocket knife out and cut my hand wide open. It will bleed, it will hurt, but with some attention and healing, it will recover. God made your heart the same way. He can heal you, if you let Him.”

    I went back to my brother and sister-in-law’s house and did something I hadn’t done before. I truly prayed. I opened the Word and devoured it. I stopped running from truth and started running toward it. I got honest, brutally honest, about who I was and what I had done. And I found that God was not waiting to condemn me. He was waiting to heal me. Not perfectly. Not instantly. But truly.

    Healing began. My life did not become flawless. But it did become honest. I joined a men’s group. I stopped pretending. I went to work knowing God’s word and studying through seminary and on my own. And now, looking back, I see God’s hand. Not only does it save me from eternal separation, but it also delivers me from the dominion of sin in the present. If He could rescue me, chief among sinners, He can rescue anyone.

    I worked in sales much of the time I was surrendering my life, and I could not lie anymore. I would rather lose the deal than lose my soul. I couldn’t be taught to call anyone and say, “I have someone who would like to buy your house or car to coerce someone to come and deal with me. That was a lie. God wouldn’t bless that. If you’re in a place where you can sell without lying, God bless. But if you’re in a place where that’s needed, I am happy to say, not sorry, you’re going to need a new job.

    But as I began to grow, questions came that had been there all along. Hard ones. Ones I had avoided. Ones I had thrown at God like accusations for years. The kind that start like this:

    If God is sovereign, and evil exists, doesn’t that make God the author of evil?

    And Scripture does not flinch from the tension. It invites us into it.

    “Out of the mouth of the most High proceedeth not evil and good?”

    — Lamentations 3:38 (KJV)

    “If so be they will hearken… that I may repent me of the evil, which I purpose to do unto them…”

    — Jeremiah 26:3 (KJV)

    “Wherefore I gave them also statutes that were not good… that I might make them desolate…”

    — Ezekiel 20:25–26 (KJV)

    “The evil spirit from God came upon Saul…”

    — 1 Samuel 18:10 (KJV)

    These verses raise hard, honest questions. And maybe it is time we stop being afraid to ask them.

    The first truth we have to settle is this: God is sovereign, but that does not mean He is morally guilty.

    God reigns. He rules. Nothing happens outside His authority. He does not wait for human permission to act.

    “He doeth according to his will… and none can stay his hand.”

    — Daniel 4:35 (KJV)

    But this does not mean He sins. Scripture is clear:

    “God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man.”

    — James 1:13 (KJV)

    “In him is no darkness at all.”

    — 1 John 1:5 (KJV)

    So how do we hold both truths, that God is in control, and that God is holy?

    We learn to distinguish between God’s ruling will and God’s moral will. God allows and governs even evil events in His plan. But He never commands sin, commits sin, or delights in wickedness.

    If we are not careful, we will either accuse God of doing evil or we will shrink Him down until He feels safe. Both errors lead to false gods.

    What Does “Evil” Mean in These Verses?

    When Lamentations and Isaiah say that God creates “evil,” they are speaking of calamity, disaster, judgment, not moral wickedness.

    “I make peace, and create evil: I the LORD do all these things.”

    — Isaiah 45:7 (KJV)

    This language is not soft. It is specific. When judgment comes, when nations fall, idols topple, and calamity strikes, God is not absent. He is not watching from afar. He is present, just, and at work.

    We want a God who stops pain, but not a God who confronts pride. We want comfort without correction. But the God of the Bible will not be edited. He breaks what must be broken so He can heal what must be healed.

    What About Ezekiel? Did God Command Evil Laws?

    No. Ezekiel 20 describes judgment on a people who rejected God’s good commands. The passage itself says it plainly:

    “Wherefore I gave them also statutes that were not good, and judgments whereby they should not live;

    And I polluted them in their own gifts… that I might make them desolate, to the end that they might know that I am the LORD.”

    — Ezekiel 20:25–26 (KJV)

    Here is what that means in plain speech. There is a form of judgment where God removes restraint and gives people over to what they insisted on. That is not divine approval. That is divine consequence.

    God’s restraint is mercy. When He removes it, it is judgment.

    What About Saul? Did God Send an Evil Spirit?

    Yes, but again, not how we tend to hear it. Saul had rejected God, refused correction, and grieved the Spirit. God removed His hand of favor, and Saul came under torment.

    The phrase “evil spirit from God” means that even spiritual darkness is under God’s authority. He ruled over it, appointed it in judgment, and restrained it according to His purpose.

    This was not God being evil. This was God being Judge.

    Just as in the book of Job, the enemy could only go as far as God allowed, and no further.

    God Governs and Overrules Evil Without Committing Evil

    This is the key truth. God can govern evil men and evil events without being evil Himself. He can overrule what men mean for destruction, and turn it into what serves His holy purpose.

    Look at the cross.

    “Him… ye have taken, and by wicked hands have crucified and slain.”

    — Acts 2:23 (KJV)

    The crucifixion of Jesus was the most wicked act in history, and yet it was also God’s determined plan to save sinners.

    Or look at Joseph’s story:

    “Ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good.”

    — Genesis 50:20 (KJV)

    This is not a contradiction. It is sovereignty. It is holiness. It is God turning the knife of man into the scalpel of mercy.

    No, God Is Not the Author of Evil

    God is not the author of sin. He is not morally guilty. He does not tempt or delight in wickedness. But He is so sovereign that even evil cannot outrun His leash, and so holy that even His judgments are just, even when severe.

    And this puts a decision in front of each of us.

    Will we keep putting God on trial, demanding answers on our terms, or will we bow before Him and let Him rescue us?

    Because the same holy God who judges sin is the God who steps into our ruin to save us.

    When I thought I was free, I was a slave. When I lost everything, I found mercy. God met me in judgment, but He did not leave me there. He healed me. He reclaimed me.

    “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.”

    — Psalm 51:17 (KJV)

    He is not safe. But He is good. He breaks and binds up. He wounds and heals. He reigns, and He redeems.

    “Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour and glory for ever and ever. Amen.”

    — 1 Timothy 1:17 (KJV)

    I have to land it right here. If God is only allowed to be “good” when life is comfortable, then we are not worshiping the God of the Bible; we are worshiping a god we can manage. But the Lord is not on trial. He is King. He is holy. He is patient. He is also Judge. And the same hand that rules the storm is the hand that was pierced to save sinners like me.

    So when evil shows up, we do not have to call God guilty to be honest about the pain. We can call sin what it is, call judgment what it is, and still cling to the truth that God is not the author of evil; He is the Redeemer who overrules it. The cross proves it. The empty tomb guarantees it. One day, every dark thing will be answered, not with an explanation that makes us feel smart, but with a Savior who makes all things right.

    Until then, we stop negotiating, and we surrender. We stop blaming God, and we confess our sin. We stop demanding control, and we take refuge in Christ. If we get too big to kneel, we’ve already gotten too small to stand.