Holding The Line

 

Holding The Line

There’s no gentle way to say it—this world is in turmoil. And if you’ve been watching with even one eye open, you already know I’m not talking about just politics or economics. I’m talking about something spiritual. Something deeper. Something that pulses underneath the surface of every news story and protest sign and divided heart. The kind of unrest that isn’t going to be settled by elections or courtrooms. This isn’t just about nations shaking—this is about souls shaking.

And yet... we were warned.

Yeshua didn’t sugarcoat the end times. He didn’t paint a rosy picture of comfort and ease for those who follow Him. He said there would be wars and rumors of wars. Nation rising against nation. He said love would grow cold. He said many would fall away—not just from belief in general, but from truth. That word in Greek is ἀλήθεια (alētheia)—truth that is not hidden, not watered down, not edited to please the crowd. Truth that stands tall no matter who throws stones at it. And yet, we were told, many would fall away from it.

Why? Because it’s hard. It’s inconvenient. It demands surrender. And this world doesn’t want a Savior who requires anything. They want a Jesus who blesses their choices and stays quiet about their sin. But that’s not the real Yeshua. That’s a made-up version, carved out of comfort and pride.

The real Yeshua called people to repentance—תְּשׁוּבָה (teshuvah) in Hebrew—a full turning, a return not just of behavior but of heart, back to the ways of God. That turning is never gentle on the flesh. It cuts deep. It rearranges. It doesn’t wink at rebellion; it convicts it. And that’s why standing firm today takes more than just belief. It takes courage. It takes clarity. It takes a spine forged in fire.

Because the truth is, we’re not just living in uncertain times—we’re living in deceptive times.

There’s a fog being laid over everything—good is called evil, evil is celebrated as good, and anyone who still holds the line is labeled as hateful, intolerant, or worse. That fog has a name: it’s πλάνη (planē)—delusion, deception, wandering from truth. And Paul warned us about it. He said the time would come when people wouldn’t put up with sound doctrine anymore. They’d collect teachers to suit their own desires. They’d turn away from truth and turn toward myths. (2 Timothy 4:3–4)

And yet... Paul didn’t say to run away from all that. He said to stand. He used the word στήκω (stēkō) in Greek—meaning to hold your position like a soldier. Not just standing still, but standing ready, prepared to fight if needed. And not with violence or shouting—but with the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. That sword cuts through the fog. That sword exposes what’s real.

But here’s where it gets personal. You can’t fight with a sword you’ve never picked up.

You can’t stand on a truth you’ve never dug down into for yourself. And you can’t recognize Yeshua’s voice in the storm if you’ve spent more time listening to the world than to Him.

So let’s get painfully honest for a moment. Many who call themselves believers today are crumbling—not because the pressure is too strong, but because their roots were too shallow. They were taught a soft gospel—a version of faith that centers on blessings and feelings, not surrender and obedience. They were told that grace means you never have to change, and that love means never offending anyone. But that’s not the gospel Yeshua preached.

He said “If you love Me, keep My commandments.” (John 14:15). That word “keep” is τηρέω (tēreō)—to guard, to protect, to hold onto like a treasure. It’s not passive. It’s vigilant. And His commandments? They’re not suggestions. They’re not cultural trends. They’re the heartbeat of the Kingdom.

And when you know them—when you’ve let His words sink deep into your bones—you become unshakable. Not because you’re strong on your own, but because your foundation isn’t built on the sand of this age. It’s built on the solid truth of a Savior who doesn’t change. He is צַר יִשְׂרָאֵל (Tzur Yisrael)—the Rock of Israel. Immutable. Steady. Unmoved by trends or threats.

The more this world burns, the more obvious the line becomes between those who know Him and those who only know about Him. There’s no middle ground anymore. Not really. The gray is fading fast, and what’s left is light or dark, truth or lie, courage or compromise.

So what does it mean to really stand firm in days like this?

It means your peace doesn’t depend on the news cycle.

It means you love people enough to tell them the truth, even when they don’t want to hear it.

It means you stay tender but never soft on sin.

It means you walk in humility without folding into silence.

It means you cling to Yeshua—not just the parts of Him that comfort you, but the parts that confront you, correct you, command you to follow Him no matter what it costs.

Because the cost is rising. That’s clear. And He told us it would.

“Whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:25). That word “life” there is ψυχή (psuchē)—soul-life, your whole self, your identity. To lose it for Him means you let go of control. You let go of your plans, your reputation, your need to be liked, your desire to be safe—and you trust Him enough to carry you through the fire.

And He will. That’s the beauty in all this. For all the shaking, for all the unraveling, there is one thing that is unbreakable—His Kingdom. And if your life is hidden in Him, then you’re part of that Kingdom. You’re held in hands that the world can’t touch.

So let them rage. Let the storm howl. Let the earth tremble.

We will not move.

Because we know whom we have believed. We know His voice. We’ve tasted His mercy. And we’ve built our house on the Rock.

And that Rock isn’t going anywhere.

Image is chatgpt AI generated. That same AI helped with the message in research for Hebrew and Greek language.