Your winning

Your winning 

God sees what you don’t.

And I know how that sounds when you’re reading this with tired eyes—carrying battles nobody knows about, holding your faith together with invisible stitches, wondering if you’re actually moving forward or if you’re just surviving on spiritual fumes. Because if we’re honest, it can feel like you’re barely holding on. Like you’re doing everything you know to do, and you still don’t feel strong. Like you’re trying to stay faithful, but you can’t tell if you’re growing or just enduring. Like you love God, but you don’t know if you’re “winning” or simply refusing to quit.

But listen to me. That “barely holding on” feeling is often what happens when you measure your life with the wrong scoreboard.

The world taught you to count success in numbers, applause, comfort, and the absence of pain. The world says you’re winning when you’re trending, when you’re praised, when your life looks clean and controlled. The world says you’re blessed when everything is easy. It says you’re strong when you never cry. It says you’re mature when you never wrestle. It says you’re successful when you never struggle.

But God doesn’t see as man sees.

God isn’t checking your image—He’s looking at your integrity. He’s not impressed by your public mask—He’s moved by your private surrender. He’s not counting how loud your worship is—He’s watching how surrendered your heart is. He’s not grading you on perfection—He’s honoring you for obedience.

And that means you might be closer to breakthrough than you realize.

Because you’ve been hard on yourself. You keep looking at what hasn’t happened yet, and you call that failure. You keep looking at what still hurts, and you assume you must be behind. You keep looking at what you haven’t conquered, and you ignore what God has already changed. You think you’re stuck, but really you’re being stretched. You think you’re lost, but God is leading you by a path you don’t yet understand. You think you’re behind, but heaven says you’re right on time.

So if you’ve been feeling like your life isn’t enough, this is for you. If you’ve been tempted to give up, this is for you. If you’ve been praying but wondering if any of it even matters, this is for you.

You’re doing better than you think.

Not because it’s easy. Not because you have it all together. Not because you’ve finally “arrived.” But because you’re still in God’s hands, still showing up, still choosing Him. And I need you to understand this: the fact that you’re still choosing Him is already evidence of victory.

Because there’s a war you can’t see.

And the enemy is not just after your comfort. He’s after your confidence in God. He’s after your endurance. He’s after your hope. He’s after your consistency. He’s after that quiet, stubborn, holy refusal to let go of Jesus when everything around you suggests that letting go would be easier.

And when you stay—when you keep your yes alive—when you keep moving toward God even with trembling knees—that is not weakness. That is spiritual warfare, and it is spiritual victory.

Let me say it another way: you don’t have to feel like you’re winning to be winning.

Sometimes, winning looks like worshiping with a broken heart.

Sometimes, winning looks like opening the Bible when your mind feels like a storm.

Sometimes, winning looks like saying, “Lord, I don’t understand, but I trust You,” with tears running down your face.

Sometimes, winning looks like getting up again after you fell—without the applause, without the spotlight, without the recognition—just you and God and the quiet strength of grace.

And God sees that.

He sees what you don’t.

He sees the progress you dismiss. He sees the battles you’ve survived. He sees the temptations you resisted. He sees the moments you wanted to walk away but didn’t. He sees the prayers you prayed when you felt nothing. He sees the obedience you carried out while your emotions screamed the opposite.

And because He sees, He calls it what it is: growth.

There’s something that happens when the Holy Spirit begins to mature you. He starts changing your definition of proof. You stop needing constant external confirmation. You stop needing everything to feel easy to believe God is with you. You stop measuring by goosebumps and start measuring by fruit. You stop asking, “Do I feel spiritual?” and you start asking, “Am I being faithful?”

And here’s one of the quiet ways you can tell this is happening in you: the things that used to irritate you don’t carry the same impact anymore.

One of the clearest signs that you’re winning spiritually is that the same small things that used to hook you can’t hook you the same way. The same tone that used to set you off doesn’t have the same control. The same delay, the same inconvenience, the same criticism, the same unexpected detour—something in you has changed. And I’m not talking about you becoming numb or passive. There’s a difference between numbness and freedom. Numbness is when you stop feeling because you shut down. Freedom is when you still feel it, but it no longer has authority over you.

Because irritation is often a signal that something inside is still demanding control—control of your time, control of your comfort, control of outcomes, control of how people see you. But the Holy Spirit has been doing a deeper work than you realize. He’s been loosening your grip. He’s been teaching you how to release the need to be right, the need to be recognized, the need to have everything go smoothly. And when those demands lose their power, peace grows in their place.

And I’ve learned this: when you’re growing in God, you don’t just “try harder” to be patient—you actually become less triggered. You become slower to react and quicker to discern. You begin to recognize the bait of the enemy, and you refuse to take it. Some of your greatest victories are not in what you do outwardly, but in what you refuse to let in inwardly. That’s how you know you’re maturing. That’s how you know you’re winning.

And then, almost without you noticing, joy starts stabilizing in you.

Not happiness. Joy.

Happiness rises and falls with circumstances. Joy stays rooted even when circumstances shake. Joy is what happens when your soul stops living off outcomes and starts living off God. It’s not that life suddenly gets easy. It’s that your inner world stops being dictated by what’s happening around you.

And this is one of the most supernatural shifts: you start waking up and choosing joy even when there are reasons not to. You refuse to let disappointments steal your spirit. You stop handing your emotional keys to people who don’t even know what they’re carrying. You start understanding something—if the enemy can’t steal your joy, he can’t steer your day. So the Holy Spirit trains you to guard that joy, not as a mood, but as a weapon.

Because joy is not denial—it’s defiance. It’s your spirit saying, “I will not agree with darkness.” It’s your soul coming back into alignment with heaven. And when joy becomes consistent, it’s proof your roots are going deeper than your circumstances. That’s not childish faith. That’s spiritual authority being formed in you.

And as that joy settles, you start noticing something else: your heart begins to prefer others in ways it didn’t before.

Not in a weak, people-pleasing way. Not in a way that erases your boundaries. But in a Christlike way—where you can genuinely honor someone else without needing to win the room. You begin to listen more. You begin to serve with less resentment. You begin to bless people without needing to be acknowledged. You begin to rejoice when others are celebrated, because your identity is no longer anchored to being the one who gets chosen first.

The flesh always fights to be noticed. The flesh wants credit. The flesh wants recognition. The flesh wants the last word. The flesh wants to be understood first and loved first and chosen first. But when the Spirit is leading you, you start seeing people through heaven’s eyes. You begin to value what God values. You begin to realize spiritual greatness doesn’t shout, “Look at me.” Spiritual greatness quietly says, “How can I love well here?”

Scripture tells us to “in humility value others above yourselves” and to look not only to our own interests, but also to the interests of others (Philippians 2:3–4). And when you begin to live like that—not as a performance, but as a genuine heart posture—that is one of the clearest signs that Jesus is being formed in you. You stop competing and start completing. You stop striving to be seen and start living to serve. You stop needing to be elevated and start trusting God to place you where you belong.

And that kind of heart is not accidental. It’s formed. It’s refined. It’s produced by the Spirit.

And as all of this deepens, something precious begins to happen: you become sensitive again—sensitive to the still small voice of the Lord.

Not the loud voice of your emotions.

Not the frantic voice of anxiety.

Not the accusing voice of the enemy.

Not the noisy voice of culture.

But that gentle, steady, holy whisper that doesn’t push you with panic—it leads you with peace.

There’s a kind of spiritual growth that doesn’t just give you knowledge; it gives you discernment. It trains you to recognize God’s tone. It trains you to sense when you’re drifting. It trains you to pause before you react. It trains you to notice the inner check of the Holy Spirit before you speak, before you commit, before you decide. And sometimes the biggest evidence that you’re winning is not that you had a big prophetic moment—it’s that you had a quiet warning, and you listened.

The still small voice doesn’t usually scream. It doesn’t perform. It doesn’t compete with chaos. It waits for your attention. And when you start living in such a way that you can hear Him—when you start choosing silence over noise, obedience over impulse, peace over pressure—that is a clear sign of maturity.

I’ve found this to be true: the more you win spiritually, the less you need God to shout. You become so acquainted with His whisper that a gentle nudge can redirect your whole day. And that’s not small. That’s intimacy. That’s friendship. That’s sonship. That’s a life being trained by the Spirit.

Now, let me add something that might be one of the most overlooked breakthroughs of all—because as you begin to win spiritually, you also begin to see yourself differently.

One of the clearest signs that the Holy Spirit is healing you, maturing you, and strengthening you is that you start to love yourself the way Christ loves you. And I don’t mean a self-centered love. I mean a redeemed love—a holy view of yourself that is no longer rooted in shame, self-hatred, or constant internal accusation. You stop partnering with the enemy’s narrative about you. You stop rehearsing your failures as your identity. You stop looking at yourself through the harsh lens of human eyes, comparing, measuring, condemning, and disqualifying yourself.

Instead, you begin to see yourself through spiritual eyes.

You start recognizing that the cross didn’t just forgive you—it redefined you. That Jesus didn’t just save you from hell—He brought you into sonship. He didn’t just cover your sin—He gave you His Spirit. And when His Spirit lives in you, you are not what you used to be, and you are not what your worst day tries to tell you that you are.

And this is where many believers get stuck: they love that God loves them in theory, but they still treat themselves like a rejected servant instead of a beloved child. They still punish themselves for what God already pardoned. They still speak to themselves with a cruelty they would never use toward someone else. They still live under the weight of inadequacy—always feeling “not enough,” always feeling behind, always feeling disqualified.

But when you begin to win spiritually, the Holy Spirit begins to break that agreement.

You start realizing that your life is not powered by your adequacy—it’s powered by His. You stop staring at your weaknesses like they are proof you can’t be used, and you start seeing your dependence as proof you’re finally in the right posture. Because the kingdom was never built on human strength. The kingdom runs on divine supply. And the moment you stop trying to earn what God already gave, you start walking in the freedom of grace.

You begin to say, “Yes, I have limitations—but I also have the Holy Spirit.” You begin to say, “Yes, I have weaknesses—but Christ is strong in me.” You begin to say, “Yes, I fall short sometimes—but I am not abandoned, and I am not disqualified.” And you stop obsessing over what you lack, because you start remembering who lives in you.

You stop seeing yourself as merely human—trying to be better, trying to improve, trying to prove. You start seeing yourself as someone inhabited by God, being transformed day by day. And that changes everything. Because when you view yourself through spiritual eyes, you don’t deny your humanity—you just refuse to let your humanity be the final word. The Spirit becomes the final word. The cross becomes the final word. The Father’s love becomes the final word.

And when that happens, you don’t walk around trying to impress people. You don’t live desperate for approval. You don’t constantly feel like you’re failing because you’re no longer measuring your worth by performance. You begin to rest in this truth: I am loved. I am held. I am being formed. And what God started in me, He will finish.

That’s not pride. That’s healing.

That’s not arrogance. That’s redemption.

That’s not self-worship. That’s learning to agree with what God has said about you.

And that agreement is victory.

Now, let me come back to the place you’ve been doubting. Because for many of you, the real struggle isn’t whether God is real. You believe. The real struggle is that you’ve been measuring yourself by what hasn’t happened yet. You keep looking at the gap between promise and fulfillment, and you assume the gap means God is disappointed.

But what if the gap is where God is doing His deepest work?

What if the waiting is not wasted?

What if the delay is not denial?

What if the silence is not absence?

What if the hidden season is not punishment, but preparation?

Because God’s not just interested in giving you what you asked for. He’s interested in shaping you into the kind of person who can carry it without losing yourself.

That’s why you’ve been stretched.

That’s why you’ve been tested.

That’s why you’ve been trained in secret.

And if you could see what heaven sees, you would realize the enemy has been lying to you.

You haven’t been failing. You’ve been forming.

And you haven’t been ignored. You’ve been guarded.

And you haven’t been behind. You’ve been built.

One of the most misunderstood parts of spiritual growth is conviction. Some of you feel conviction and you assume it means you’re distant from God. But conviction is not the proof that God left—it’s proof that He stayed. It’s proof that His Spirit is still active in you, still shaping you, still refining you, still calling you higher.

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Proverbs 9:10). And that holy reverence in you—the desire to please Him, the desire to live clean, the desire to be aligned—don’t insult that. That’s not failure. That’s wisdom beginning to rise.

And then there’s endurance—this holy perseverance you’ve carried, even when you didn’t feel strong. The enemy wanted you to quit. He wanted to make you bitter. He wanted to make you cynical. He wanted to make you numb. But you didn’t stop praying. You didn’t stop believing. You didn’t stop showing up.

“Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9). There is a harvest coming, and your endurance is connected to it. I know you’ve had nights where you felt like you were crawling. But crawling counts.

And if you look back, you’ll see that you’re different than you were. You may not be where you want to be yet, but the old is not ruling you the same. You don’t react the same. You don’t chase the same. You don’t tolerate the same. That is the evidence of Christ working in you.

“If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation…” (2 Corinthians 5:17). You’re in progress. You’re being remade.

And then there’s your relationship with pain. You’re not just trying to escape it anymore. You’re asking God to redeem it. That’s maturity. That’s wisdom. That’s a sign that you’re not losing—you’re being prepared.

“Consider it pure joy… whenever you face trials… because you know the testing of your faith produces perseverance” (James 1:2–3). God wastes nothing. Nothing. Not the tears. Not the delay. Not the disappointment. Not the crushing. If you stay surrendered, He will turn it.

And yes, there are still days you don’t feel Him. But you’ve learned that feelings aren’t the proof of His presence. Faith is. “We walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7). Not by emotion, not by mood, not by the vibe—by faith.

And then truth. You’ve stopped running from it. You’re not just asking God to bless you; you’re asking Him to change you. You’re welcoming correction. That means you’re growing. “The Lord disciplines the one He loves” (Hebrews 12:6). If God is correcting you, He hasn’t rejected you—He’s committed to you.

And through it all, you still believe there’s more.

You’ve waited. You’ve fought doubt. You’ve been disappointed. And yet you still expect God. You still believe He’s working. You still hear something in your spirit saying, “God isn’t finished with me.”

“He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion” (Philippians 1:6). If He started it, He intends to finish it.

So now let me speak over you like I mean it.

You’re doing better than you think.

You’ve been measuring your life by what hasn’t happened yet, but God has been measuring it by how you’ve grown through what did. You think you’re behind, but heaven says you’re being built. You think you’re broken, but heaven says you’re being refined. You think you’re losing, but God says, “You’re learning to trust Me.”

You haven’t missed your moment.

You haven’t failed beyond repair.

You are not invisible.

You are not disqualified.

You are being shaped in silence, rooted deeper than ever before. And when it’s time—when God says now—everything that felt hidden will be revealed.

So breathe.

Rest.

Lift your head.

Stop calling your process a problem.

Stop calling your stretching a setback.

Stop calling your waiting a waste.

What you call “not enough,” God calls a foundation.

What you call “slow,” God calls steady.

What you call “struggling,” God calls strengthening.

You still care about Him. You haven’t walked away. You’re learning to trust through pain. You’re choosing faith over feelings. You’re hungry for truth. You still believe there’s more. You’re becoming less triggered, more joyful, more others-centered, more sensitive to His whisper—and now you’re learning to see yourself as loved, as held, as empowered by the Spirit.

That’s not just survival.

That’s supernatural.

So keep walking.

Keep trusting.

Keep showing up.

And don’t let your feelings fool you.

Don’t let your timeline trap you.

Don’t let the enemy lie to you.

Heaven sees it.

Every step.

Every tear.

Every quiet act of faith.

And what God started in you—He will finish. Much love.