Surrender vs. Tradition: The War in the Church

There’s a kind of grief that doesn’t start in my emotions—it rises in my spirit. It’s the weight I feel when I can tell the Holy Spirit is being grieved, not by obvious darkness, but by things that wear a religious label and still push people away from obedience. 

And what strikes me is this: just yesterday I was talking with a seasoned minister here in Bulgaria about this very thing—and the reality is, many times traditions lead us when they ought not to. They take the driver’s seat quietly, and before you know it, Scripture becomes something we “reference,” while tradition becomes something we follow.

And there are two things that have repeatedly stirred that grief in me—two things I’ve watched quietly choke life, silence boldness, and numb the supernatural in believers who genuinely love God: tradition and ungodly counsel… even when it comes from godly men and women. 

That second one can shock people. Because we assume, If they’re godly, their counsel must be godly. If they pray, their advice must be pure. If they carry a title, their words must carry heaven.

But I have learned—sometimes painfully—that a person can be sincere, devoted, and genuinely godly… and still counsel from fear, from culture, from pain, from past disappointment, from preference, from tradition, or from self-protection. And if you don’t test that counsel, you can follow it straight into delay, compromise, and spiritual paralysis—while still telling yourself, “But they meant well.” 

Let me say this as plainly as I know how:

Godly character does not automatically equal godly counsel. 

And I need to say this with humility, because none of us are exempt: all of us can be guilty at times of giving ungodly—unscriptural—advice in good faith. We mean well. We want to protect. We want to help. We speak from our experience, our personality, our wounds, our preferences, or our fears, and we don’t realize we’ve drifted from the Word. That’s why this isn’t about “those people” out there—it’s about all of us staying surrendered enough to be corrected. Lord, not only guard me from receiving counsel that is not from You—guard me from becoming the one who gives it.

This is where the Lord has trained my discernment with a question that exposes so much so quickly:

If someone releases a thought that causes you to walk in fear—does that thought come from God, or does it run opposite to God? 

Now, I need to clarify something carefully, because people confuse this all the time: fear is not always evil—but most fear is not from God.

There is a holy fear. Scripture commands it. The fear of the Lord is reverence, awe, holy trembling, the kind of fear that doesn’t push you away from God—it pulls you closer. It purifies you. It makes sin look small and God look massive. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Proverbs 9:10). “The fear of the Lord is to hate evil” (Proverbs 8:13). That fear is not bondage. It’s clarity. It is not panic. It’s purity.

But there is another fear—more common, more subtle, and far more destructive—and that fear is an enemy. It’s the fear of man. The fear of rejection. The fear of being misunderstood. The fear of losing control. The fear of the unknown. The fear of lack. The fear of “what if.”

And that kind of fear doesn’t produce reverence—it produces restraint. It doesn’t produce surrender—it produces self-protection. It doesn’t produce obedience—it produces delay. Proverbs calls it what it is: “The fear of man brings a snare” (Proverbs 29:25). A snare. Not a feeling. A trap.

That’s why so much “advice” that sounds mature can be spiritually toxic: because it doesn’t increase the fear of the Lord—it awakens the fear of man. It doesn’t lead you into trust—it leads you into control. And control might feel wise… but it is often the language of unbelief.

Here’s a test I’ve learned to use in real time: Does this counsel make me bow lower to God, or does it make me bow to people? Does it increase reverence, purity, and obedience? Or does it increase anxiety, image-management, hesitation, and the need for human approval?

Because holy fear leads you into life.

And every other fear—when it becomes your guide—will quietly steal it.

This is where tradition and fear often shake hands.

Tradition is powerful because it feels “safe.” It feels familiar. It feels respectable. It often sounds spiritual. But Jesus warned us plainly: “You nullify the word of God by your tradition” (Mark 7:13). That’s not a gentle statement. It means you can sing the right songs and quote the right verses—and still cancel the authority of God’s Word in your life if tradition becomes the throne.

And I’ve seen tradition do exactly that.

I’ve seen it shape people so deeply that they don’t even know which convictions are biblical and which convictions are cultural. Some traditions are harmless. Some are meaningful. But some become rulers—quietly dictating decisions more than Scripture and the Spirit do. 

People can fight about pork—because tradition can totally shape us. 

People can fight about women—about who can sit at a table, who can eat where, what it looks like for believers to share a meal, and how quickly suspicion rises when tradition has trained people to assume the worst. 

People can fight about a Christmas tree—as if the presence of a tree has more power than the presence of a surrendered heart. 

And I’ve realized: so many of these arguments aren’t actually fueled by holiness. They’re fueled by control. They’re fueled by fear. They’re fueled by a need to measure righteousness by visible markers—because it’s easier than living crucified.

It’s easier to police external symbols than to surrender internal idols.

It’s easier to enforce appearance than to die to self.

It’s easier to win arguments than to obey the Holy Spirit.

But the Lord has never been impressed with external compliance that’s disconnected from inward surrender. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7). And the New Covenant call is not merely “clean behavior”—it’s total surrender: “Present your bodies a living sacrifice…” (Romans 12:1). Not a living suggestion. A living sacrifice.

This is where the blog’s heart beats: the supernatural life is not accessed by competence—it’s accessed by surrender. 

And if I’m honest, so much of my training prepared me for the opposite.

I was trained to walk naturally. Trained to reason, analyze, plan, manage outcomes, predict results.  I spent years building tools that work in the natural realm:

Eight years of post-secondary education—degrees, diplomas, certificates. 

A brown belt in jiu-jitsu. 

Marksman training with handguns and rifles. 

And yes—an above-average mind that can strategize and problem-solve. 

None of that is evil. Some of it is useful. But I saw something later that I didn’t fully recognize at the time: all of it quietly trained me to believe in control.

And control is the silent enemy of surrender.

Because surrender admits something most of us fight to admit:

We have close to zero control over our lives. 

Things happen you didn’t expect. Doors open you didn’t knock on. Doors close that you thought were guaranteed. People change. Health shifts. Plans collapse. Nations shake. Timelines re-write themselves in a single day. And suddenly you find yourself face to face with the reality you’ve tried to avoid:

You are not God. And you were never meant to be.

That moment can crush you… or it can liberate you.

Because surrender isn’t loss. Surrender is access.

When I surrender what I can’t control to the Lord, I’m not admitting defeat—I’m stepping into His realm. And His realm is the environment where miracles make sense. 

I’ve learned this the hard way: education is a gift, but it is not a guide. Knowledge can inform me, but only the Word and the Spirit can lead me. The Word is my plumb line. The Spirit is my power. And I will not accept “revelation” that contradicts Scripture—because the Spirit who inspired the Word will never violate the Word. 

His ways are higher than our ways (Isaiah 55:8–9). 

The steps of the righteous are ordered by the Lord (Psalm 37:23). 

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding (Proverbs 3:5–6).

Notice how those scriptures confront the same idol: leaning on your understanding, leaning on control, leaning on the need to make life predictable.

And this is exactly why unbiblical counsel—especially from godly people—can become so dangerous. Because it often reinforces the idol instead of killing it.

It sounds like “wisdom,” but underneath it is often fear:

“Be careful.” (But underneath: Don’t obey unless it’s safe.)

“Use discernment.” (But underneath: Don’t obey unless it’s explainable.)

“Don’t get ahead of God.” (But underneath: Stay where you are so nobody criticizes you.)

Beloved, God’s voice will challenge you—but it won’t enslave you. God’s leading can be sobering—but it won’t be driven by panic. God can warn, yes—but His warnings don’t chain you; they position you. The devil drives people with fear. God leads His children with truth, love, and authority.

So here’s a line I won’t let go of:

Godly counsel never releases fear, doubt, or unbelief in what God has said. 

That doesn’t mean godly counsel is always “easy.” It may call you to count the cost. It may tell you to wait. It may tell you to repent. But it will not train you to distrust God’s voice. It will not teach you to make fear your compass.

And when counsel is rooted in fear, it often hides behind tradition.

This is where I want to say something that’s been burning in me, because I’ve heard it far too often:

I have been told—more than once—that some believers have been counseled not to pray for other people.

Not “pray differently.”

Not “pray with wisdom.”

Not “pray with a pure motive.”

But: don’t pray.

And I’m telling you straight: that is not a small issue. That is not a “difference of style.” That is not a minor preference. That is counsel that directly contradicts Scripture.

The Bible commands intercession.

“I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people” (1 Timothy 2:1).

“Pray for one another, that you may be healed” (James 5:16).

“Pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17).

And Jesus Himself “ever lives to make intercession” (Hebrews 7:25).

So how did we arrive at a place where someone can look a believer in the face and counsel them to disobey a direct biblical command?

Sometimes that counsel is driven by fear of excess. Sometimes it’s fear of disorder. Sometimes it’s fear of being wrong. Sometimes it’s fear of spiritual abuse. And I understand the concern—I really do. But the answer to misuse is not disobedience. The answer to disorder is not silence. The answer to confusion is not forbidding prayer.

If someone’s praying wrong, teach them the Word.

If someone’s operating in flesh, call them higher.

If someone’s been wounded, bring healing and wisdom.

But don’t silence intercession.

At a certain point, when counsel consistently restrains obedience to Scripture, it becomes grievous to the Spirit. The Bible even warns, “Do not quench the Spirit” (1 Thessalonians 5:19). When you counsel people away from prayer, you are not just giving “advice.” You are turning down the flames of intercession—one of the most biblical expressions of surrendered Christianity.

That is not heaven’s heart.

And it ties directly into what I’m talking about: tradition and fear trying to govern believers instead of the Word and the Spirit.

Scripture is full of examples of godly people making wrong moves because they listened to counsel that made human sense.

Abraham and Sarah had a promise. God had spoken. But time passed, pressure increased, and a “reasonable solution” was presented—one that made sense in the natural. It wasn’t atheism. It wasn’t rebellion. It was human strategy trying to “help” the promise.

Hagar.

And the consequences were not small. The consequences were generational. That’s what unbiblical counsel can do: it can birth something God never authored—and you can spend years cleaning up what fear produced in a moment. 

And Job—Job’s friends are the poster children for wrong counsel delivered with spiritual vocabulary. They weren’t demons. They were friends. They came. They sat. They wept. And then they explained God with confidence… while being wrong. At the end, the Lord said they had not spoken rightly about Him (Job 42:7). 

That should sober every one of us.

It means you can love God and still speak wrongly about Him.

You can be sincere and still counsel from tradition.

You can be respected and still be off.

So what do we do?

We do what the Bereans did: we test everything against the Word (Acts 17:11). Not cynically—biblically. Not with suspicion—discernment.

And we remember this: God did not call you to be led by the spiritual résumé of others. He called you to be led by the Holy Spirit.

If the counsel you receive consistently produces fear of man—fear of criticism—fear of what people will say—fear of stepping out—fear of risk—fear of being misunderstood… you need to ask yourself: What kind of “wisdom” is this actually producing in me?

Because the Holy Spirit will lead you into surrender, not into self-protection.

And surrender is where everything opens.

That’s why this line hits me like a hammer:

Stop trying to make it work. 

That sentence offends the natural mind. Because the natural mind says, “If I don’t make it work, it won’t work.”

And the Spirit says, “Exactly. Now you’re ready to see Me.”

The supernatural realm is not accessed by the strength of your grip; it is accessed by the depth of your surrender. 

And surrender doesn’t mean you do nothing. It means you stop trying to be God. It means you stop trying to control outcomes with anxiety. It means you stop bargaining with obedience. It means you say, “Lord, I will do what You say—whether I can explain it or not.”

This is why I love Paul’s language:

“I do not consider, brethren, that I have captured and made it my own… but one thing I do… forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead… I press on toward the goal…” (Philippians 3:13–14). 

That’s not fear. That’s pursuit.

That’s not tradition. That’s surrender.

That’s not self-protection. That’s obedience.

And I need to say this prophetically, because I believe the Spirit is pressing on it:

Some of you have been carrying other people’s cautions like they’re commandments.

Somebody’s opinion became your boundary.

Somebody’s fear became your filter.

Somebody’s disappointment became your doctrine.

And the Holy Spirit has been calling you out of it—not to make you reckless, but to make you free.

Because the Lord is raising up believers who are not governed by the fear of man, not governed by cultural tradition, not governed by image-management, and not governed by “safe” Christianity.

He is raising up surrendered believers.

People who will pray when others say “don’t pray.”

People who will obey when others say “wait because what will they think.”

People who will walk in purity without becoming Pharisaical.

People who will love holiness without worshiping tradition.

People who will be bold without becoming arrogant.

And yes—this kind of believer will offend religious spirits. Because religious spirits love control, and surrendered people can’t be controlled.

I’ll tell you what I’ve learned about my own life: it has not gone the way I thought it would go… but it has led me into the realm of the supernatural where the Lord moves. 

And I’m convinced the Lord is doing that for many of you right now.

He is calling you to walk in a direction opposite of the world. He is ordering your steps. He is stripping false security. He is shaking off tradition where tradition has become a throne. He is exposing counsel that sounds holy but produces fear. He is calling you back to the simplicity of the Word, the voice of the Spirit, and a life fully surrendered. 

And as you yield, you will realize something:

Surrender doesn’t shrink your life.

Surrender opens His realm.

So I’m choosing surrender again.

I’m choosing to test counsel—even when it comes from people I respect.

I’m choosing to obey Scripture—even when tradition frowns.

I’m choosing the fear of the Lord—not the fear of man.

I’m choosing to pray—because Scripture commands it.

I’m choosing to press on—because heaven is calling upward.

And I believe the Spirit is speaking over you right now:

Come out of fear. Come out of tradition. Come into surrender.

Not tomorrow. Not when you feel ready. Not when the outcome is guaranteed.

Now.

Because God is not waiting for you to control your life—He is waiting for you to yield it.

And when you yield, you will see Him move.

Declarations

1. I declare I am led by the Holy Spirit, not by the fear of man.

   
   
   
   

2. I declare the fear of the Lord is increasing in me—reverence, wisdom, purity, and obedience.

   
   
   
   

3. I renounce every fear-based counsel that has restrained my obedience to God.

   
   
   
   

4. I break agreement with traditions of men that nullify the Word of God in my life.

   
   
   
   

5. I declare my steps are ordered by the Lord, and I will not be diverted by human opinion.

   
   
   
   

6. I declare I will test every counsel by Scripture, and I will hold fast to what is true.

   
   
   
   

7. I declare I am free from the snare of people-pleasing, in Jesus’ name.

   
   
   
   

8. I declare I will not quench the Spirit—I will obey Him, yield to Him, and follow Him.

   
   
   
   

9. I declare my life will not be governed by control; it will be governed by surrender.

   
   
   
   

10. I declare I will pray for others boldly, biblically, and faithfully—because God commands intercession.

    
    
    
    

11. I declare unbelief is being uprooted from my thinking, and faith is rising in my spirit.

    
    
    
    

12. I declare the realm of God is opening to me as I surrender what I cannot control.

    
    
    
    

13. I declare delay is breaking, hesitation is breaking, and obedience is rising.

    
    
    
    

14. I declare the Lord is purifying my discernment and sharpening my hearing.

    
    
    
    

15. I declare I press on toward the upward call of God in Christ Jesus—and I will not look back.

    
    
    
    

Amen. Much love.