How God Stretched Me in This Season

This season, God has been stretching me in ways I didn’t see coming—and honestly, in ways I didn’t want. It all started with a Sunday sermon from my Bishop, where he used Gideon’s story as a mirror to our own struggles with unbelief. Gideon’s journey reminded me that even when God calls us, equips us, and gives us every reason to trust Him, our hearts can still wrestle with doubt.

Bishop said something that stuck with me: “A clean life doesn’t make you not carnal.” I had to sit with that. I’ve always tried to live a life that honors God—avoiding the obvious sins, serving faithfully, and staying away from the things that clearly go against His word. But this statement pierced through the surface and asked a deeper question: What’s in your belly? What’s really driving you when no one’s watching? Because what’s in your belly will determine how you war against the flesh.

The truth is, I had been warring with my flesh in ways I didn’t even realize. My outer life looked fine—Bible reading, prayer, ministry work—but underneath, my thoughts, motives, and fears weren’t always Spirit-led. Like Gideon, I was asking God for signs while ignoring the signs He’d already given me. I was professing faith while quietly rehearsing “what if” scenarios in my head, over and over.

When my Bishop unpacked Gideon’s initial hesitation, I saw myself in that winepress. God had already called Gideon a “mighty warrior,” but Gideon’s fear and self-perception had him hiding. I’ve been there. I’ve heard God’s voice calling me to move forward in faith, but I’ve still found myself hiding behind excuses, comfort zones, and the safety of control.

One thing this season revealed is that self-sufficiency can feel holy, but it’s not the same as faith. I thought I was just being responsible—planning ahead, making sure I could handle whatever came—but in reality, I was relying more on my own ability than God’s. I was still trying to fight spiritual battles with fleshly weapons like overthinking, strategizing, and striving.

But here’s where God began to stretch me: He started stripping away my crutches. Opportunities I thought I could count on dried up. My “backup plans” fell apart. And there I was—face-to-face with the God who was asking me, “Do you trust Me or not?”

It wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t fun. And it certainly wasn’t convenient. But it was necessary.

Through prayer and a lot of honest reflection, I realized my fight against the flesh wasn’t just about avoiding sin—it was about surrendering control. Carnality isn’t just lust, greed, or envy. It’s any way of thinking that prioritizes self over God, any reflex to rely on my own strength rather than His.

So, I started to do what Bishop challenged us to do: Get to know what’s in my belly. I asked God to reveal my hidden motives, my default thought patterns, and the fears I’d dressed up as wisdom. And He did. He showed me how much of my “faith” was actually cautious optimism, how much of my “waiting on Him” was really just procrastination born of fear.

Like Gideon, I had to admit that my unbelief was slowing me down. I wasn’t going to win spiritual battles if I was still relying on fleshly strategies. And to truly war against the flesh, I had to get my spirit nourished on the Word of God until His truth became my default response, not just my Sunday affirmation.

This stretching hasn’t been about God taking things from me—it’s been about Him making space in me. Space for deeper trust. Space for humility. Space for a faith that can stand when the circumstances shake.

And I’ll be honest—stretching hurts. It pulls you past your comfort zone and forces you into postures you’ve never held before. But it also strengthens you. Every time I’ve chosen to trust God instead of spiraling into “what if,” I’ve felt my spiritual muscles grow. Every time I’ve quieted my need to control the outcome, I’ve experienced His peace in a way that logic can’t explain.

Now, when I feel my flesh rising—when fear, pride, or self-reliance starts to take the

—I remind myself that my strength is not in my belly, it’s in my God. And what’s in my belly must be His Word, His Spirit, and His promises if I’m going to war effectively.

Gideon’s story doesn’t end in hiding; it ends in victory. But that victory came after he tore down idols, obeyed God’s unusual instructions, and faced his enemies with fewer resources than he thought he needed. This season, God is asking me to do the same: tear down the idols of self-sufficiency, obey even when the instructions don’t make sense, and trust Him to do more with my “less” than I could ever do with my “more.”

So, I’m letting the stretch happen. I’m letting Him expose the carnal places I thought were clean. And I’m learning to fill my belly with His truth so that when the battle comes, my war cry won’t be fear—it will be faith.

Because in the end, the stretch isn’t to break me. It’s to prepare me for victory.