Goliath Must Fall: Winning the Battle Against Your Giants

by Louie Giglio

Wanting to steer toward great outcomes is noble. But trying to control the world is disastrous. In time, controllers crack under the reality that none of us are in control.

But comfort can become a huge problem if it morphs into complacency or entitlement.

Jesus didn’t come to earth to die on the cross and be resurrected from the grave so we could settle for a reduced amount of God’s best. Jesus intended for us to “really live” (1 Thessalonians 3:8). And that means we can live freely in the power of what he has accomplished for us.

Jesus is David in the story of David and Goliath. Jesus is the giant killer. Does that fact not wake us all up? Hello? We are not David. You are not David. I am not David. Jesus is David! Jesus fights the battles for us. Jesus stares down the face of impossible odds. Jesus takes up his sling. Jesus selects five smooth stones. Jesus takes aim at the giant. The giant falls because of the work of Jesus.

Worship is simply a shift of attention that allows us to see God better. Worship is like corrective lenses for our souls, bringing God clearer into view. That’s important for all of us, especially when life goes off the rails. Worship puts God in focus. When the Almighty is in view, our giant’s power over our thinking begins to flicker and fade.

If we truly want to change, then we need to understand our dependency on the all-sufficiency of Jesus Christ. Our change is more about trusting and less about trying.

See, whenever a problem is concealed, it finds power in the darkness. But when a problem is confessed, it loses that power. Confession brings the light of Christ to shine upon that problem.

fear grips us whenever we believe that apart from, or in spite of, our best efforts, something undesirable is going to happen and we can’t stop it.

The opposite of fear is faith. And faith begins by us saying, “I have confidence in God that he is bigger than this giant.”

Jesus builds up our faith, and faith is the antidote to fear. Faith is saying, “I have confidence in God that he is bigger than this giant.”

And until we are dealing with the root, we will never change the fruit.

The antidote to fear is faith, and the soundtrack of faith is worship.

Purposeful, meaningful, lasting life is the by-product of walking closely with the Father, Son, and Spirit.

Life is short, yes. But God is big. God is able to redeem every situation. He is able to breathe new life into every heart. God is able to restore anything that’s been lost or broken or stolen. He is able to do “far more than we dare ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3:21 CEV).

We fight complacency whenever we ask God to help us see what hangs in the balance.

This is what angry people do. They find a way to knock down the people around them.

When people make character assassinations about other people, they’re typically tipping their hand at what’s going on in their own heart.

Jealousy is a tough thing to carry because it causes us to compare and compete. It silences us from celebrating and affirming.

Forgiveness is when you turn to the Lord in prayer and say, “God, by the grace of Jesus I want you to know I forgive this person. You forgave me. I forgive them. I can’t hold against this person more than what you chose not to hold against me.”

David didn’t rest on his abilities; he rested in the power of God within him.

When it comes to addictions we need to cast a wider net. An addiction is anything we can’t live without. We’re enslaved to this thing. It’s a habit we can’t break. It’s a person we can’t separate from. A pattern we can’t change. And it’s ultimately harmful. If left unchecked, the addiction devastates our lives and everything around us.

Ah, here’s a picture of myself I like. It’s one of my best photographs ever. I saw my friend’s photo of the same thing. She went to Paris and got a good photo of herself at such and such a place, so I got a good photo of myself at such and such a place. I picked a cool photo filter. I just posted my picture to the world. Here I am, people. Celebrate me. Let me know I’m cool. Let me know you love me. How about that? We post the picture and then we wait. We wait for the magic “like” button to be hit. We refresh and wait a minute longer. Then the first “like” button is hit. We hope for more. Ah, someone likes my picture. Finally. Anyone else? Come on, people—this is a really cool picture of me. Are all of my friends asleep right now? Did you all instantly go blind? That’s addiction to approval. If social media is used as a way for people to celebrate others and share life together around the world and talk about Jesus and the gospel, then social media is great. But if social media is where you are getting your approval and if it’s your drug, then social media is going to kill you. Tweet that.

The root cause of most addictions is pain. The cause is sin. Somebody has rejected us. Somebody has inflicted pain on us—emotional pain, physical pain, relational pain, economic pain. This person has made us feel like we’re not good enough. We’re convinced we don’t have what it takes. A sense of inadequacy has been branded on our lives.

With God, we are able. We are able because God is able. Thanks to our vulnerability, we are weak. But thanks to God, we are strong.

But freedom happens in the light. Jesus is the Light of the World, and he works most powerfully in us when we bring our brokenness and hurt, or sin and our drugs, into the light of his grace. If we don’t, we can fool those around us, but they will never truly know us. This cycle of never being known drives us deeper into the vortex of the cover-up and makes us anemic. We don’t want to take the “hit” of coming clean, or maybe we just can’t quite admit we are addicted in the first place. But in the end we are isolated by our inability to open up to the love of God and the help of others.

Until you are okay with being seen as needy or weak, you will never walk in true strength.

Paul chose. He wasn’t trying to hide his weaknesses from everyone. He wasn’t looking for a drug to numb himself. Instead, he boasted about his weaknesses so Christ’s power would rest on him. Everyone who has ever done something great for God had some sort of weakness. All the great people of the faith walk with a limp, and the answers for why are throughout Scripture.

Let Jesus embrace you as you are. Let him accept you in his love. Let Jesus infuse his strength into your life. Allow Jesus to give you the power to exchange your weakness for his strength. Then you’ll be walking on supernatural waters. Jesus will invite you then to do things you could not do on your own. The power will come from God. Yet you will have the power.

1. If the Enemy is at your table, then you think you’re not going to make it. Remember, according to Psalm 23, the table is in the presence of your enemies, not the absence of your foes. So the Devil can quickly spin your head around and remind you that you’re surrounded on every side. When he does, he says to you: You’re not going to make it. It’s not going to end well for you. You’re finished. You’ll never make it back to where you once were. You’ll never win this fight. You’ll never be free. Just quit believing all this “my giant is dead” mumbo jumbo and give up. You’re done. But remember the psalm says that you have a Lord who is your Shepherd who has set a table for two. Let the Shepherd speak to you. Lock onto his words and let them sink in. Notice David wrote “when I walk through the valley.” He knew his future was not stuck in the middle of the valley, but that his Shepherd would lead him through to the other side. There would be green pasture, quiet water, and rest for his soul on the other side. And there was a table of provision with all he needed in the midst of the fray. You are not going to die in this barren, defeated place. And if you think you are, then I encourage you—don’t give the Devil a seat at your table.

Jesus defeated our giants with one fatal blow on the cross. He destroyed their power as he blasted out of the grip of death. The way we walk in that freedom is by believing each day that he will lead us as we put one foot in front of the other. Most times in our lives the power is not in a massive leap but in the succession of a thousand tiny steps.

Complacency is an attitude of the heart. In all honesty, some of us like our giants. They’ve been in our lives for so long they’ve become part of the landscape. We know in our minds that the giants need to go, but there’s security in having those giants there. They’re harmful, but they’re familiar, and we tend to like what’s familiar. But familiarity can be the voice of the Accuser in our lives. Our giants constantly tell us no. No, I won’t fall. No, it can’t be done. No, you can’t win the victory. Don’t take no for an answer. The cross is a safe place, but it’s not always a comfortable place. We are in a fight. And when we desire for our giants to fall, when we want the glory and fame of Jesus to be known above all, we want our lives to count for his glory. We drive a stake through the heart of self. We make a determined choice to die to our harmful desires. We make a conscious choice to follow Jesus wholeheartedly.

Our motivation comes in realizing that every giant that defeats us deflates our ability to make much of Jesus to the world. There’s an extra motivation in our hearts when we say, “This Goliath, it must go down, God, because you must be lifted high.”

Billy Graham told how once in Scotland, some sport fishermen spent the day fishing, then that evening went to an inn for dinner. One of the fishermen, in describing the size of the fish that got away, threw open his arms just as a waitress passed by with a tea pot. The man’s arm hit the pot, and rich, dark tea splashed against the wall, leaving an ugly brown stain. Greatly embarrassed, the man jumped up and apologized profusely, but right at that moment another of the inn’s guests jumped up and said, “Never mind.” The guest pulled a marker from his pocket and began to sketch around the stain. Soon a picture emerged. A magnificent royal stag with his antlers spread. All the inn’s guests gathered around to admire the work. They soon realized that the sketch artist was none other than Sir Edwin Landseer, Great Britain’s foremost painter of animals. What had begun as a stain had been transformed into beautiful art. Billy Graham wrote, “This story has always beautifully illustrated to me that fact that if we confess not only our sins but our mistakes to God, He can make out of them something for our good and for His glory.”1