If you grew up in church like I did, you’ve probably heard some version of this: “Be careful with money; it’s dangerous.” “It’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven.” “Jesus was poor, so you should be too.” Then there’s the ultimate stain on a preacher’s reputation: being labeled a “prosperity gospel” preacher. For many, that title alone cancels out everything else a person says.

But here’s where I’ve always found myself confused: If prosperity is such a bad word, then why does God say it so much throughout the Bible?

I mean, if prosperity were as spiritually toxic as we’ve been led to believe, God would have a lot of repenting to do. The word is all over Scripture.

From Genesis to Revelation, prosperity isn’t just mentioned, it’s modeled. Abraham was blessed. Isaac was blessed. Jacob, Joseph, David, and Solomon were all blessed. Entire nations were blessed because of the covenant God had with His people.

So how did we get here? How did we become so afraid of a word that God clearly isn’t afraid of?

Let me be clear: I’m not here to defend the prosperity gospel, however you want to define it. I’m not here to justify the abuses, the manipulation, the greed, or the seed-offering scams. Trust me, I’ve seen the clips and heard the stories. I’ve walked with people who were burned by the lie that you can buy a miracle from God if you just “sow a significant seed.” I hate that distortion.

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What I refuse to do is let the enemy twist a promise of God into something the church becomes ashamed of. While we can criticize the prosperity gospel, we cannot deny the prosperity of the gospel.

In my ten years of ministry, I’ve learned something about how the enemy operates. Satan doesn’t create anything. Jesus referred to him as the thief who comes only to steal, kill, and destroy. That’s exactly what he does: He counterfeits and perverts. The things he goes after the hardest tend to be the most valuable in the kingdom of God. Unfortunately, whenever he touches something, Christians want to throw the whole thing away.

Think about it. The church rejected deliverance ministry because some people made it weird. We rejected speaking in tongues because some operated in it without order, and others falsely taught that if you don’t speak in tongues, you’re not even saved. We rejected the prophetic because some words proved inaccurate or plain wrong. In each case, we overcorrected, silenced the Spirit to maintain safe services, and threw out the gift to avoid the abuse.

With prosperity, we did the same thing. We let the enemy rob us of a covenant promise. We forgot that it was God, not culture, who created the concept of blessing. We forgot that it was God who made Abraham rich, God who gave Joseph a divine strategy for economic survival, God who filled Solomon with wisdom and wealth, and God who “gives you power to get wealth” (Deut. 8:18). Prosperity didn’t originate in a TV preacher’s green room. It originated in the heart of a Father who loves to take care of His kids.

Because of a few misused verses and a lot of misbehaving preachers, we’ve made prosperity a curse word in the church. We whisper it like it’s taboo. We distance ourselves from it so we don’t look greedy. We spiritualize poverty and call it humility. As a result, we’ve created an entire generation of believers who love Jesus but live powerless, broke, and dependent on the very world system God called them to rise above.

That’s not holiness. That’s bondage.

Let’s clarify something theologically: God doesn’t want us enslaved to Egypt while calling it contentment. He never called His people to beg Pharaoh for provision. He called them to walk in covenant.

This is where it gets personal for me. For years, I wrestled with this tension. I felt guilty for wanting more. I wondered whether it was wrong to build a business, make money, or dream bigger. I didn’t want to be “that guy”—flashy, self-promoting, obsessed with materialism.

I couldn’t shake the question: If God owns everything, why are His people living like beggars?

I remember creating videos and content and wondering whether I should even mention anything about giving, finances, or tithing. I’d post a clip about faith and get cheers. I’d post something about God wanting to bless people financially, and suddenly, the comments would erupt into a war zone. It seemed as though people were literally manifesting demons just because I said the word prosperity while quoting Scripture!

Here’s the irony: The same people who criticize prosperity theology often message me privately to ask for prayer over their finances. So which is it? Does God care about our financial well-being or not? Is He a good Father or a distant one? Does He want us to have what we need to fulfill our assignment, or must we figure it out on our own?

I’ve learned that most people don’t reject prosperity because of Scripture. They reject it because of bad, man-made doctrine. They saw some preachers abuse the promises of God (knowingly or unknowingly), and instead of getting clarity, they reacted emotionally. They clung to the phrase “prosperity gospel is heresy,” recoiling every time the word prosperity was mentioned.

They overcorrected, embraced struggle, and treated poverty as a badge of honor. In doing so, they surrendered territory; God never told them to give up.

Prosperity—God’s prosperity—means thriving in every area of life. Yes, it includes money, but money is the fruit on the tree, not the root that produces it. God’s definition of prosperity isn’t necessarily having a yacht and a Rolex. There’s nothing wrong with those things, but that’s not the point. The point is having more than enough to do everything God’s called you to do, with enough left over to bless everyone connected to you.

God has no problem lavishing His kids with material blessings. In fact, I’d argue that kingdom prosperity should almost feel embarrassing because we don’t deserve it. Jesus’ first miracle was turning water into wine, and it wasn’t a miracle of utility. It was a miracle of luxury.

That’s the kind of Father we serve: not insecure about blessing His children, not worried about looking greedy, not ashamed of giving good gifts. He’s a good Father, and good fathers rejoice when their kids flourish, not when they’re broke.

We’re going to reclaim the word prosperity. Not for greed’s sake but for covenant’s sake. It’s time to stop apologizing for wanting to build, grow, lead, multiply, create, give, and fund the end-time revival. It’s time to stop confusing poverty with piety and remember that God is a good Father who wants His kids walking in abundance, with open hands and full hearts, ready to bless everyone around them.

So let’s say it boldly and without shame: Prosperity is not a curse word. It’s a promise from God.

If we’re going to reclaim prosperity, we must first clear the rubble and uproot the lies that have choked the church for too long. We must expose every false belief that’s kept God’s people broke, fearful, and spiritually paralyzed. You can’t walk in a promise you’re still suspicious of, and you can’t steward what you secretly resent. So, let’s take a hard look at the lies and replace them with the truth.

Lie #1: Money buys miracles.

This is probably one of the most damaging distortions in Charismatic circles. Somewhere along the way, people were led to believe that if you just “sow a seed,” you can force God’s hand and that if you give a certain amount, He owes you a breakthrough, particularly in the areas of healing and deliverance. I know a person who was duped into believing that if she sowed her entire inheritance, God would heal her mother of multiple sclerosis. She sowed the inheritance, and her mother’s healing never manifested.

Whoever taught her that wasn’t teaching faith; they were either ignorantly teaching heresy or outright manipulating her. God doesn’t respond to bribes; He responds to faith. You can’t buy a miracle, and anyone who told you otherwise lied to you.

Yes, giving is biblical, and yes, generosity unlocks blessing. Sowing and reaping financially is a biblical principle, but a seed only bears fruit of its own kind. In the same way you can’t sow an apple seed and expect an orange tree to come out of the ground, you can’t give to God financially and expect to reap a miracle. There’s no biblical precedent for that.

When we give to God with a cheerful heart, He does bless us, but His blessing isn’t transactional; it’s relational.

Lie #2: God never blesses materially.

I’m not sure what Bible people are reading when they say this, but it’s not the one I’m holding. From Genesis to Revelation, God’s covenant with His people consistently includes material blessing. Abraham was made “very rich in livestock, in silver, and in gold” (Gen. 13:2). Isaac sowed in famine and reaped a hundredfold, and Solomon was the wealthiest king of his time, with wealth coming directly from the wisdom God gave him. The early church shared resources so powerfully that “there was not a needy person among them” (Acts 4:34, ESV), and even in eternity the streets are paved with gold.

Lie #3: Money is evil.

This is one of the most misquoted verses in the entire Bible and an all-time classic lie. Scripture doesn’t say that money is the root of all evil. It says, “The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil” (1 Tim. 6:10, emphasis added). That’s a huge difference.

Money is neutral; it’s a tool that takes on the character of the person using it. A wicked person uses money to exploit others. A righteous person uses money to build hospitals, plant churches, rescue orphans, and feed the hungry. God created gold and called it good, and designed Eden with resources embedded in the soil. Jesus Himself said we should use “unrighteous mammon” to make an eternal impact and win friends for eternity (Luke 16:9).

If money were evil, Jesus wouldn’t have taught so much about it, God wouldn’t give us instructions on how to steward it, and the church would have no business asking for it. The truth is, money in the hands of a righteous person can fund the gospel, break chains, and advance the kingdom. The issue isn’t the money; it’s whether the money has you. Money is not evil; it’s essential!

Lie #4: Prosperity is just an American idea.

This one makes me laugh. As if Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, David, Solomon, and Jesus Himself were all raised in the American Dream. The idea that prosperity is a Western or capitalist construct is not only ignorant but unbiblical. Prosperity didn’t start in Dallas or Los Angeles; it started in Eden. The garden was filled with gold, fruit-bearing trees, and rivers that nourished the land.

Throughout Scripture, we see God prospering people from the Middle East, Africa, and Asia long before America was ever a nation. This promise was never limited by geography; it was always about covenant.

Lie #5: The church just wants your money.

Let’s be honest: Sometimes this one is true. There are ministries that have mishandled finances and churches that have guilted people into giving while lacking accountability and transparency. Some leaders have manipulated people emotionally for financial gain, and that’s wrong. However, just because some have misused funds doesn’t mean the entire church is corrupt, nor does it mean you should withhold your tithe and offerings out of bitterness.

The church doesn’t need your money because it’s desperate. God doesn’t want your money because He needs it; He owns the cattle on a thousand hills. The church invites your giving because giving is how God matures you, how you break agreement with the spirit of mammon, and how you partner with the mission of heaven. When the church teaches on finances with biblical clarity and kingdom purpose, it’s not about extracting from people but equipping them to live in covenant blessing.

Jesus talked more about money than heaven and hell combined because He knew that where your treasure is, your heart is also. God wants your money because He wants your heart. Teaching people to tithe, to be generous, and to trust God with their finances isn’t manipulation; it’s good shepherding.

The church isn’t trying to take something from you; it’s trying to help unlock something for you. A healthy church doesn’t just take offerings. It teaches people how to walk in financial freedom so they can fund their assignment and live a life of generosity without fear.

If you’ve believed any of these lies, you’re not alone. So have I, and so has almost every believer at some point. The good news is that you don’t have to stay bound by them. You can choose today to renew your mind, align your faith with the full counsel of Scripture, and reclaim the covenant promises Jesus paid for.

Kap Chatfield is a Christian content creator, filmmaker, pastor, speaker, and coach. He has directed two feature-length documentaries (Acts, 2019 and The Time Is Now, 2021). He has amassed over 1 million subscribers on YouTube. He is the Online Pastor of Love Church in Omaha, Nebraska. He is married to Joy Chatfield and together they have four children. His new book, The Power to Prosper, is available on Amazon.com.

I am floating above my bed in St. Thomas Hospital. It’s really amazing. I’m looking down, and there I am in a hospital gown, lying on the bed with my eyes closed, tubes and wires sticking out of me and connected to beeping monitors. I look like something out of a Frankenstein movie. Evelyn, my wife of forty years, is sitting comatose on an uncomfortable hospital chair in the corner of the room, with the crossbar digging into the middle of her back. Our son is next to her on a clone of the uncomfortable chair. He’s not paying attention to her. He’s on his cell phone answering yet another one of the endless texts that keep his generation from living in the present.

Oh, well. I like it up here at the ceiling; I have a bird’s-eye view of what’s going on. I love to fly, and this is it. I’m flying!

I was a commercial airline pilot for over thirty years and loved every flight I captained. My dad had a Stearman airplane, and I remember when I was five years old, sitting next to him as he gave me my first flying lesson. By eight years old, I could fly solo, but of course Dad would not allow that. So here I am really flying at last, and I’m loving it. But how does this work?

I can see that I’m attached to my body by some kind of silver cord. Wait—I’ve read about this somewhere. Isn’t that in the Bible? The silver cord? No matter, I’m enjoying my lofty perch. Yet I am somewhat disturbed at seeing my motionless body lying there below me—my face ashen, my eyes closed, my cheeks sunken. And I mentioned the wires, monitors, and fluids that are working overtime to keep me alive. I’m not dead—yet. But here I am, floating, flying. This is really cool! I can see my heartbeat on the monitor. It looks pretty good; maybe I’ll pull through. On the other hand, this is really amazing. Why haven’t other people talked about this? Maybe they have.

As I float down to the floor, I’m about two feet away from my wife’s face. Dear Evelyn. She’s been crying. Her eyes are closed, and she’s clutching a tissue in her right hand. My scatterbrained son is still on his cell phone, seemingly oblivious to the drama going on around him.

“Hey, Phil!” I yell with everything inside me. “Hey, Phil…you idiot! Can’t you see that your mom needs you? Hello in there!”

Part of me expects Evelyn and Phil to hear or see me, but they don’t. What’s really strange is that I can see through the walls in the room as if they’re transparent. I see them shimmer as I look over at the woman in the room next to me. She’s propped up in her bed, watching something on TV. Welcome to hospital life. There’s nobody with her. She’s alone except for the idiot box that has 800 channels and nothin’ on. Isn’t that a lyric from a song?

I find I can actually float—no, fly—through the walls. But this silver cord attached to my body lets me go only so far and then yank, like a dog being chained to its doghouse, and I can go no farther. How does that work? Still, it’s a wonderful feeling to be able to fly around. I’m having fun even though my body below me seems to be giving out.

Back to Evelyn.

We’ve been married…how long? I think it’s been forty years. Or is it forty-one? I suppose I can do the math, but I have trouble adding up the bogies, double bogies, and triple bogies on my golf card, so I’m just going to go with forty years of marital bliss. A nice round number. I’m being facetious. It’s been good. But like all marriages, there have been potholes in the road. Three kids, one miscarriage, the death of our middle child at the tender age of nine—which very nearly led to a divorce—and a partridge in a pear tree when Evelyn built an aviary in our backyard. Her love for her feathered friends was unwavering; I am somewhat jealous. It was her way of coping with our loss. I think a mother’s love for a child is something a man will never fully grasp.

Evelyn’s shoulder-length gray hair is disheveled. She’s been camped out in my hospital room for three days. And no makeup. Normally she wouldn’t go anywhere without her lipstick. Her shoulders are hunched over, and her face is tearstained.

Seeing her this way has made me lose some of my excitement for being outside my body and flying around the hospital corridors.

Phil is still scrolling on his cell.

Where is my daughter? Why isn’t she here? What about Fred—my best friend from college—and also our pastor? Why isn’t he here?

I fly back up to the ceiling and wonder how long this will take. I’m not hungry. I’m not tired. I’m not sick anymore. I’m all here, and I’m flying.

I can see down the hallway. The elevator doors open and out comes a woman with purple hair. Even though the elevator and the woman who just exited from it are about forty yards away, I know it’s my daughter, Marsha. How can I put this in a politically correct way? We are estranged. We are about as far apart as two people can be. Evelyn and I often lament how we lost her. Where did we go wrong?

When we sent her off to college, she was an innocent eighteen-year-old girl with long blonde hair and a smile that could light up a room. She’d had many boyfriends all through high school but never got serious. She sang in the church choir. By the spring of that year—her first year in college—she was a different person. Evelyn and I hardly recognized her. She had chopped all her hair off, shaved one side of her head, and dyed the rest of her hair purple. Evelyn did her best to choke back the tears, but I was irate. “What…why did you do this?” I barked.

I won’t go into the brief time she was with us during spring break, but one bomb after another was dropped on us. She had a girlfriend, and they were “in love.” Marsha was a sophomore, and this girlfriend was a senior. It was she—whose name I will not mention—that groomed Marsha. It took only from Christmas to spring break. Marsha was someone I no longer knew and—I hate to admit—no longer loved.

At least she didn’t bring “the one I will not name” with her. That’s all Evelyn would need now.

I watch as Marsha makes her way to the room, wearing her newly adopted college uniform: baggy pants and a T-shirt with a rainbow-colored Che Guevara on it; one arm tatted up; an unlit cigarette tucked behind her ear; and, of course, the patch of purple weeds that is left of her hair.

Oh, wait. I forgot about the earbuds blasting who knows what into the empty space between her ears. As she half-dances her way up the hallway to my room, she is lip-synching to the song—or whatever it is—blasting in her head that keeps her in her own little fantasy world.

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I decide to head her off, so I fly down toward her and get in her face.

“Hey, Marsha! Hi. Hello in there.”

She walks right through me, as if I’m not even there. In reality, I suppose I’m not.

I follow her into my room.

What I see next surprises me—no, shocks me. Marsha takes one look at me lying comatose—ashen, half dead—and her hands fly up to cover her face as she breaks into uncontrollable sobs.

Evelyn jumps out of her chair, throwing her arms around Marsha, and the two of them weep on each other’s shoulders.

Phil is jolted out of his cellphone utopia and stands up but doesn’t know what to do. Phil and Marsha are at odds with each other too, so all this is complex, and it’s not going to get fixed in five minutes.

“Is he dying?” Marsha blurts out.

Evelyn nods slightly. “It appears that way. But anything is possible with God.”

At that Marsha “snaps” out of it. “Please don’t bring Him into this. Why would He allow such a thing? Dad’s been healthy all his life, and now he’s at death’s door? I don’t get it. It’s not fair. I’m sure you’re saying your prayers, and I can see they’re really working for you.” She takes a step back from Evelyn—having got hold of her true self—and the purple persona is back.

“Look at him,” Marsha says without filtering. “He’s dying, for Chri—”

“Don’t you dare say that!” Evelyn’s hackles are up. “How dare you take His name in vain at a time like this.”

“Way to go, Evie.” My nickname for her. “Don’t take any wooden nickels.”

Evie loves church, loves the choir, loves Sunday morning, loves telling people about Jesus. Me, not so much. I mean, I’m a Christian. But I’ve never seen a miracle, never been healed of anything, even the common cold. Never felt the presence of the Holy Spirit, whatever that is. All in all, I am what my good friend Fred—or rather Pastor Fred—calls me. I’m a CEO: Christmas and Easter Only, and that works for me. I chuckle to myself.

“OK, sorry,” Purple-Hair mutters under her breath.

Now it’s Phil’s turn. “You know, you come here like you’re going to a club or something, and you’re not here for two minutes before you and Mom are going at it. Don’t you give a flip about anyone but yourself?”

Look who’s calling the kettle black. “Hey, Phil!” I bark. “Thanks for putting down your stupid slave box and actually engaging in reality for once.” Stinking cell phones.

Phil takes a step toward Marsha, but before he can say or do anything, Marsha raises her hand and whacks the cell phone out of Phil’s hand, sending it crashing to the floor.

“What the…” Phil stammers as he picks up the phone, which has a cracked glass screen. “What the…”

Evie glares at Marsha. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

Marsha shrugs, turns away, and plops down in one of the chairs.

As if on cue, Fred comes into the room. We met as roommates in college, and it was Fred who led me to Jesus during our senior year—after endless debates on who Jesus was. What ultimately convinced me was a book Fred gave me about the Shroud of Turin. When he presented it to me, I scoffed and blurted out that it was Middle Ages forgery.

“Not so fast, citizen!” Fred countered. “You don’t know anything about the shroud; that’s ignorance on your part. And the fact that you’re saying you do is arrogance. They are a deadly combination.” And with that he placed the book in my hand. Three weeks later, I came across the line, and with Fred’s help I asked Jesus into my heart. The book on the shroud had convinced me of the resurrection; I was sold. However, unlike Fred, I didn’t really fit into church life and became what Fred called me: a CEO—Christmas and Easter only.

“Evelyn, Phil…Marsha,” Fred says, touching each person as he moves through the room toward my bed. “How long has he been like this?”

“Three days, and he’s fading,” Evelyn says, softly. “It’s not looking good. The doctors say they’ve done all they can do.” She stifles a sob.

Fred touches my forehead and lets his hand rest there. I can see he’s praying, but—out of respect for Phil, who’s become a staunch atheist, and, of course, Marsha—he doesn’t fill the room with the verbiage of a prayer.

Marsha shifts her weight.

Phil scrolls on his phone, though the cracked glass makes it hard for him to read the most recent text.

Fred is from Texas, and even after all the years of living in our little community in Southern California, he still has the Texas twang. I never tire of kidding him about it.

He slowly pulls his hand from my forehead, and I can see he is tearing up.

Whispering to Evelyn, he says, “We’ll see what the Lord can do. It’s not over yet.”

A loud warning sound erupts on one of the monitors.

All eyes focus on the machine.

A nurse runs into the room.

Then another nurse.

Fred and Evelyn move out of the way and stand on the sidelines of the action.

“He’s flatlining,” I hear one of the nurses say.

Two men come in with some sort of paddle-like things in their hands.

“Just in time,” one of the nurses blurts out as she and the other nurse expose my chest while the men get ready.

I realize that my heart has stopped beating. I’ve seen this in movies for I don’t know how long. They’re going to try to restart my heart.

“Clear!” one of the men yells.

I hear a whizzing sound and then bang! I go sailing across the room into the hallway.

“Hey! I felt that!” I yell, wondering how this is possible.

A doctor rushes in, brushing by my family and Fred, and is overseeing the action.

“Anything?” he asks, looking at the monitor.

“Not yet. Clear!” The man with the paddles shouts again as he gives me another shock, sending me sailing down the hallway.

I fly back into the room and watch the action below me. And then it happens.

I hear a deep, rushing sound, like a huge wave about to break on the beach. I feel something snap, and looking down, I see that the silver cord has detached itself from my body.

Like a human cannonball, I’m flying out of the hospital so fast that the city below me disappears in a flash.

I’m headed toward a point of light beyond the atmosphere, and seconds later I have entered what appears to be a tunnel of light. The walls are like golden glass, but I can see through them as I fly through the universe. How can this be? Planets are whizzing by me. Stars and galaxies grow large and then disappear as I continue this incredible journey.

Suddenly I have a sensation of falling, and the golden tunnel has disappeared.

“Am I in heaven?” I wonder.

An overwhelming silence and a peaceful stillness enfold me.

This chapter is an excerpt from L.A. Marzulli’s novel The Waiting Room, a powerful story about grace, healing and the supernatural reality of forgiveness. In this gripping narrative, a man caught between life and death is given a second chance to confront the wounds, betrayals and broken relationships that shaped his life. Through a richly imagined journey beyond the veil, Marzulli explores the eternal weight of unforgiveness and the life-altering freedom found in letting it go. The Waiting Room is both a compelling page-turner and a deeply spiritual invitation to examine your own heart, your own second chances and the relationships that matter most. If you would like to continue the journey, you can order The Waiting Room on Amazon.com.

L.A. Marzulli is an author, lecturer, and filmmaker. The author of twelve books, including The Nephilim Trilogy, which became a CBA bestseller, Marzulli is a frank supernaturalist who lectures on the subjects
of UFOs, the Nephilim, and ancient prophetic texts, presenting his exhaustive research at conferences and churches, and through appearances on numerous national and international radio and television programs.

The kingdom of darkness has its own twisted counterfeit, a shadow structure that mimics God’s design. Where Christ empowers His ministers with the Holy Spirit, Satan deploys his agents—witches, warlocks, shamans, sorcerers and false prophets—to deceive and destroy. These masquerade as bearers of light, but their power flows from demonic cisterns, not the living God.

They align with territorial spirits and fallen cosmic powers, orchestrating influence over nations, cultures, and souls. Their mission? To bind humanity in chains of bondage and blind them to the truth.

The Prophet and the Witch

One night as I preached the gospel beneath a heavy outpouring of the Spirit, I sensed a disturbance—a witch in the crowd, sent to oppose the move of God. The Holy Spirit quickened my heart, and I paused mid-sermon, my voice thundering like a battle cry: “If there’s a witch here tonight that has come to disrupt this meeting and resist the Holy Spirit, hear me now—you have two choices: repent, or you will die!”

The air grew thick with tension. Yet the fire of God burned stronger. I pressed on, preaching the Word with boldness as miracles began to erupt across the crowd. At the altar call, people surged forward, weeping—blind eyes opened, crippled limbs restored. And then, they brought her to me.

Her eyes, dark as storm clouds, locked with mine. Behind them glared a demon, raging in defiance. Without hesitation, I laid my hand on her forehead and roared, “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, every devil in you, come out NOW!”

The power of God fell like lightning. She shrieked—a guttural, unearthly cry not her own—as the unclean spirits thrashed in resistance. Her tongue darted like a serpent’s, eyes rolling back, but I commanded again, “Every one of you, OUT in Jesus’ name!” Instantly she collapsed, then rose—free. That night she surrendered her life to Christ, and the next day she returned with her spell books and witchcraft tools, hurling them into the trash in renunciation of darkness. “If the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed.” (John 8:36, NKJV).

Her transformation was a blazing testimony to God’s triumph.

Two Kingdoms at War

My friend, we find ourselves locked in a fierce war—not one fought with earthly weapons but a cosmic battle raging in the heavenlies and spilling onto the earth below. This conflict mirrors the clash of two opposing armies, each with its own structure, authority and purpose. On one side stands the kingdom of God, ordered and empowered by Jesus Christ Himself, who established the church as a divine battalion to advance His will. On the other side lurks the kingdom of darkness, a counterfeit force driven by chaos and deception, yet cunningly organized to oppose the light.

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In Ephesians 4 the apostle Paul unveils the divine blueprint for this holy army, revealing what we call the fivefold ministry—gifts given by Christ to equip His bride for battle. But to grasp their weight, we must journey through the epistle itself, a war manual penned with spiritual warfare blazing in Paul’s mind.

From chapters 1 to 3, Paul lays a foundation of unshakable doctrine, proclaiming the supremacy of Christ: “And He put all things under His feet, and gave Him to be head over all things to the church” (Eph. 1:22, NKJV). Paul declares that we, the church, are seated with Christ in heavenly places, “far above all principality and power and might and dominion, and every name that is named” (Eph. 1:21, NKJV). If Christ reigns supreme, and we are united with Him, then we, too, wield authority over every dark force through His name—a truth that sets the stage for victory.

Then, in chapter 4, Paul shifts to structure, appointing leaders like generals in an army: “And He Himself gave some to be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ” (Eph. 4:11–12, NKJV).

These are no mere titles; they are callings, each with a distinct and vital role in advancing God’s kingdom until Christ returns:

• Apostles are the trailblazers, sent ones who plant churches, govern, break new ground and establish divine order where chaos reigns. They carry the authority to uproot strongholds and lay foundations of truth.
• Prophets are the seers, the mouthpieces of God, thundering His heart and will to a generation. Their words pierce the veil, exposing darkness and pointing unswervingly to Jesus, for “the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy” (Rev. 19:10, NKJV).
• Evangelists are the heralds, ablaze with zeal to proclaim the gospel, snatching souls from the jaws of hell with the urgency of wartime messengers.
• Pastors are the shepherds, guardians of the flock, nurturing and protecting God’s people with tender care and fierce resolve, ensuring none are lost to the enemy’s schemes.
• Teachers are the instructors, grounding the church in sound doctrine, arming believers with the sword of the Word so they can stand firm against deception.

Together these fivefold ministers forge a unified front, perfecting the saints and building up the body of Christ until we “all come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God” (Eph. 4:13, NKJV). This is no haphazard assembly—it’s a divine strategy to confront the powers of darkness head-on.

Counterfeits of the Kingdom

Consider the true prophet of God—a vessel of righteousness, anointed to declare God’s Word with clarity and power. Their voice cuts through the noise, always exalting Christ. Contrast this with the false prophets of darkness, wolves cloaked in sheep’s clothing, as Jesus warned: “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves” (Matt. 7:15, NKJV). These impostors infiltrate pulpits, preaching “doctrines of demons” (1 Tim. 4:1, NKJV), leading multitudes astray.

Some knowingly serve Satan, striking pacts with marine spirits or other dark entities for fame, wealth and influence. In Africa, I know of several so-called ministers who trek to the water’s edge, summoning powers from the marine kingdom—selling their souls for fleeting success. Their ministries glitter with earthly glory, but their end is ruin.

Others are blatant in their allegiance to darkness—sorcerers, witch doctors and spiritists who wield demonic power to curse, control and oppose the church. They thrive on fear, the devil’s chief weapon, intimidating even those who claim to follow Christ. I’ve heard preachers recount, with trembling voices, how witches slipped into their services to disrupt, curse and vex the congregation. “We suspected a witch,” they’d say, as though the powers of darkness held sway.

But I ask them—and I ask you—where is your faith? If you’re filled with the Holy Ghost, why do you cower? “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind” (2 Tim. 1:7, NKJV). The Most High reigns supreme. His power eclipses all others. It’s time to rise up and act like it.

This is our calling: to know our God intimately, to walk in His power fearlessly, and to see His glory revealed through signs, wonders and miracles. Yet this outpouring demands something of us. It requires a heart fully yielded to God, a life cleansed of compromise, and a faith that dares to believe the impossible.

Bishop Chad MacDonald is the founder of Revival Fire World Ministries and carries an international apostolic mantle. He is a prophetic voice, revivalist, and author. He has also served as an adjunct professor for New Life Bible College and Norvel Hayes Ministries. With a powerful anointing that will change your life, Chad travels extensively throughout the United States and internationally. His meetings are marked by the tangible presence of God and accompanied by powerful deliverances, signs, and wonders. His heart burns to see a return to true Pentecostal power and to see the body of Christ equipped to carry the glory of God. He is the host of Voice of Revival TV and podcast. He is a graduate of World Harvest Bible College (Valor Christian College) and an ordained bishop in the City Harvest Network under the direction of Dr. Rod Parsley. A devoted husband, father of seven, and proud “Pappy” to three grandchildren, he calls Tennessee home. His new book, Defeating Darkness, is available on Amazon.com.

Peter wrote:

“All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is by his great mercy that we have been born again, because God raised Jesus Christ from the dead. Now we live with great expectation.”
—1 Peter 1:3

Expectation aimed at timing breeds disappointment.
Expectation aimed at Jesus breeds life.

We’re going somewhere here. But first, I hope you can now see that every single person on earth is living up to, or down to, their own revelation of the freedom Jesus bought for them.

Do you get it?

Those walking on the narrow road understand exactly how free they are because they are constantly staring at the One who set them free. They understand that the law isn’t a list of rules. It’s a mirror to show you that you’re dirty. Jesus is the One who washed you clean.

Those of us walking on the narrow road understand that to “fix” the sin in our lives, there is nothing we can do at all. We just keep looking to the Father so He can keep doing what He promised He would do: change us from the inside out. We kill the root of rebellion by shifting our focus, and the fruit will wither on its own.

But those on the wide path will never fully see their freedom because they can’t stop focusing on their own chains.

However, there is one more key piece of information you’re going to need to keep you walking on this narrow path. You need to understand expectation.

In 1 Peter 1:3–4, we read:

“All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is by his great mercy that we have been born again, because God raised Jesus Christ from the dead. Now we live with great expectation, and we have a priceless inheritance—an inheritance that is kept in heaven for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay.”

What Peter is telling us here is that because of the finished works of Jesus on the cross (sōzō), now we get to live with great expectation.

We get to expect miracles and healing in our lives and the lives of others.
We get to expect breakthroughs and deliverance from the things keeping us in sin.
We get to expect that all our needs will be met according to His riches and glory.

Is this getting you excited? It should be.

But there is a flip side.

While yes, we need to live with great expectations, we also need to know how to aim our expectations.

Let me show you what I mean.

When you and I talk about our expectations—for ourselves, another person, a situation—we normally expect what we want to happen, when we want it to happen and how we want it to happen.

Sounds accurate so far?

But when it comes to God, it doesn’t work like that. It can’t work like that.

You understand why, right?

“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord. “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”
—Isaiah 55:8–9

The reason it can’t work like our normal expectations is that God isn’t like us. His plan goes beyond ours. He sees outside of us. He knows how each prayer request being fulfilled or denied will impact others decades after we pray it. He knows what you and I could never know: tomorrow.

This is also why all He truly asks us to do is trust Him.

Trust that He sees beyond us.
Trust that He knows better than us.
Trust that His plan is better.

Because it always is.

So when Peter said, “Now we live with great expectation,” he did not mean expectations about the where, when and how.

We usually think in terms of the who, what, when, where and why. But when it comes to our expectations with God, only two things matter: who and why.

That is the key.

Who is the One doing the work.
Why is the reason He does it—because He loves us and already paid for it.

If you try to hang your faith on the other three—when, where and what—you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. And disappointment leads to a lack of trust. And a lack of trust leads to wandering eyes, a loss of focus on Him.

When you live on the narrow road, these two words are the steps you take to move forward:

“Thank You.”

That’s gratitude.

Before you receive something, say, “Thank You.” That puts you in a state of expectation. It has to. You just said thank You in faith. That means you actually believe it’s coming.

If I pray, “Thank You, Father, that my spouse’s back is healed, in Jesus’ name,” my expectation is, “God, You are the One healing them. However and whenever You do it is totally up to You. I’m just saying thank You in advance.”

The truth is, healing can come in a lot of different ways.

God can heal in a moment.
He can heal through doctors.
He can finish the healing in eternity.

Gratitude says, “Father, You are the healer. I trust Your wisdom and timing.” That keeps my eyes on who, not my calendar.

Sometimes healing looks like years of treatment.
Sometimes breakthrough feels painful.
Sometimes provision shows up as an idea, not a check in the mail.

If you were expecting the answer in the time frame you wanted, the way you wanted, your life will be full of disappointment. You will lose your trust in God and His Word, and eventually you will be right back on the wide road, begging God again, because you never saw what you wanted to see.

Ouch. I know that stings a little. It needs to.

So what do you do in that moment when the prayer isn’t answered the way you wanted and disappointment starts to creep in?

Here’s the shift: Pause. Stop replaying the when, where or how in your mind.

Say, “Thank You,” out loud. Even if your feelings don’t line up, open your mouth and thank God for already being at work.

Name the who. Remind yourself, “Father, You are the One who heals, provides and delivers. It’s not on me. It’s on You.”

Anchor in the why. Whisper, “I gave You my life. I trust Your plan over mine.”

That’s how you drag your eyes off disappointment and lock them back on Jesus in real time.

We need to decide right now:

I will not put unrealistic expectations on our Father. I will trust Him instead.

When we focus only on the who and why, we will never be disappointed.

How?

When my expectation is simply, “God, I know You are the One who is going to make this happen. I trust You,” my focus stays on Him. Not my calendar. Not my watch. Not my idea of how I want God to work.

If it happens today: “Sweet. Thank You, Father. That was fast.”
If it doesn’t: “No problem, Father. I trust that Your timing is perfect.”

We need to have all the expectation in the world on who and none on when, where and what.

To help you continue down the narrow path, the best way I can explain it is like this:

Expect nothing and everything at the same time.

Hold expectation in two ways at once:

By faith, it’s mine now.
By trust, I’m content with His timing.

That’s how you stay unshaken.

I’m expecting that the moment I pray, my miracle belongs to me right that second. And with the same breath, since I trust Him, I don’t need it to show up while I’m on earth at all. I am willing to wait until heaven.

Why?

Because I gave up my life and now Jesus lives through me.

Order Kelly K’s New Book “Beggar to Believer” on Amazon.com!

No one in the cemetery is worried about when or how their bills are going to get paid. They are dead. And so are we.

I gave up my life, my plans, my agenda, my wants, my desires, my opinions, my everything.

So whether the answer shows up on earth or in heaven, it makes no difference to me. My life is not my own. Each day, each word, each choice, each action is simply God living through me.

How could I ever be disappointed with a life like that?

Here’s the bottom line: If you’ve given your life to Christ, your life is not your own anymore. That means no wasted days, no wasted pain, no wasted storms. God is using all of it to shape you.

James could say, “I count it all joy,” because he trusted two things: who was in control and why he was still breathing.

When it’s a good day, say thank You.
When it’s a hard day, still say thank You.

Either way, your expectation stays fixed on the One who never fails.

That is what it really means to walk the narrow road. Not just heading toward heaven one day, but letting heaven live through you today.

Practical Steps for Walking the Narrow Road

1. Morning gratitude

Before your feet hit the floor, whisper three simple thank-yous:

“Thank You, Father, for another day. I trust You and Your timing.”
“Thank You, Jesus, that You’ve already forgiven me.”
“Thank You, Holy Spirit, for guiding me today.”

Start there.

2. A kingdom-first checklist

At least once during your day, stop and ask: Am I building my castle right now or God’s kingdom?
Whose name am I trying to make bigger, mine or His? Is fear or faith driving this choice? Where is my expectation aimed?

Write these questions on a sticky note or in your phone. Let them guide your daily decisions.

3. A seven-day “Thank You” prayer experiment

For one week, shift your language. Every time you’re tempted to pray, “Please, God,” reframe it as:

“Thank You, Father, that You are already working on this.”

Keep a small journal of what happens. You’ll begin to see how gratitude changes not just your words, but your faith, your peace and your outlook.

Now that you know you are a believer and not a beggar, you’ve got the tools in your hands.

Gratitude.
A kingdom-first focus.
A new way to pray.

That’s how you walk the narrow road with expectation that never disappoints.

Stay in it. Stay sharp. Stay surrendered.

From Desperation to Devotion

Anonymous Report: Out of the blue one day, my teenage son came to me and shared that he had sleep paralysis. He sees things that are not really there. He hears things that are not there, and things attack him in his sleep.

I’m a pretty attentive parent, but I had no idea. How long had this been going on? How could I not see it?

Over the course of about a year and a half—through multiple doctor appointments and counseling visits—my son began to open up more. He said he didn’t really believe in God. He wasn’t sure whether he ever had.

I felt crushed, defeated, worried and terrified.

With everything going on in the world today, I wanted to help my son. But I was also scared to put him in the hands of some of the caregivers in the medical and therapeutic professions and in schools.

I was begging God:

“God, please help him get rest. Please protect my son. God, please, whatever is attacking him or making him ill, cast it out.”

I had stumbled across one of Kelly K’s videos on TikTok before this all started and joined the daily Bible studies in the mornings. Doing daily church together helped me get through this time. It truly changed how I pray.

Kelly taught us repeatedly that God won’t do what He’s already done. He already sent His Son, Jesus, to die on the cross to save us, heal us and deliver us. That includes my son and that includes me.

I started praying differently:

“Thank You, God, that You love my son more than I could, even though I can’t fathom that. Thank You, Father, for healing him, for giving him sleep, for giving him peace. Thank You for giving me authority over my house to cast out any spirits that are trying to attack my family.”

As we went through doctors, tests, scans and counselors, things slowly improved. But as soon as I shifted to praying with thanks and believing the promises of God, my anxieties dropped dramatically.

I don’t know how I could have functioned if I had continued down the begging path.

My son hasn’t seen or heard anything that is not really there in quite some time. I believe this was a spiritual attack against my family. We have prayed together, and I continue to pray in belief and thanks for all God has done for us.

The healing was not instantaneous. But it was paid for two thousand years ago on the cross, and I will continue to thank Him for it.

My son still occasionally goes to a Christian counselor to talk through things that may be bothering him. But he does believe in God. He prays and talks to God.

I thank God for this church family and for Pastor Kelly helping us get through this scary time.

I am so glad I learned the lesson that I should not beg. There was no power in that.

Now I pray with the belief of what He has already done for me, and I am so thankful.

Kelly K is a husband, father, pastor, author, and evangelist with over ten years in full-time ministry. Thousands have come to know Jesus through his passionate, wisdom-filled messages of love, forgiveness, repentance, and salvation, which he shares daily. Before coming to Christ, Kelly worked as a musician and tour manager for some of the biggest rock bands in the world. After a near-death car crash while on tour, he gave up everything and turned to Jesus―never looking back. Today, he travels the world with a new purpose: to see lives transformed by the love and grace of Jesus Christ. His new book, Beggar to Believer, is available on Amazon.com.