When Strongholds Become Your Bread: Choosing Faith Over Fear
The Promise That Seemed Impossible
Imagine standing at the edge of your destiny, only to find it guarded by giants. This was the reality for the Israelites when twelve spies were sent to survey the Promised Land (Numbers 13-14). What they discovered was a land flowing with milk and honey—everything God had promised. But it was also inhabited by fortified cities and giants that made them feel "like grasshoppers" in comparison.
Yet two men saw something different. Joshua and Caleb returned with a radically different report: "They will be our bread" (Numbers 14:9).
What Does "They Will Be Our Bread" Really Mean?
The Hebrew phrase Joshua used is profound. When he said the inhabitants of the land would be "our bread" (לַחְמֵנוּ הֵם, lachmenu hem), he wasn't just making a casual statement. Bread (lechem) was the staple of life, the source of sustenance and strength. Joshua was declaring that the very obstacles meant to keep them out would become the source of their nourishment and power.
Think about that: The strongholds weren't just something to overcome—they were fuel for the journey. The giants weren't merely enemies to defeat—they were provision for growth. What was designed to intimidate would instead invigorate.
The Tragedy of Unbelief
The Israelites' response reveals the devastating power of fear. These were people who had witnessed unprecedented miracles:
They saw Egypt, the world's greatest superpower, brought to its knees by ten plagues
They walked through the Red Sea on dry ground—a powerful symbol of baptism and new life
They had been granted freedom from centuries of slavery
They had been given the law directly from God at Sinai
Despite experiencing all of this, they refused to face the giants.
What should have been approximately a two-week journey from Mount Sinai to the Promised Land became a forty-year sentence of wilderness wandering. And here's the sobering truth: God didn't lead them into the wilderness to strengthen them. He led them there so an unbelieving generation could die off.
The writer of Hebrews warns us directly about this: "See to it, brothers and sisters, that none of you has a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God" (Hebrews 3:12). The passage goes on to explain that the Israelites could not enter God's rest because of unbelief (Hebrews 3:19).
Don't miss this: The same warning applies to us today.
When Pain Becomes Greater Than Fear
Here's a crucial insight: The next generation finally entered the Promised Land not because they became stronger in the wilderness, but because the pain of wilderness wandering eventually became greater than their fear of the giants.
After forty years of watching their parents die in the desert, after decades of aimless circling, after countless missed opportunities, the new generation was finally ready to face what their parents had refused.
But hear me clearly: God doesn't want you to endure a generation of painful delay.
He doesn't delight in watching you wander in circles. The wilderness wasn't His preferred plan—it was the consequence of unbelief. His desire was always for them to walk boldly into the promise, trusting that He would be with them.
Three Keys to Choosing the Fast Track
So how do we avoid the wilderness? How do we transform our strongholds into bread? Here are three essential responses to the generational giants we face:
1. Believe God
This seems simple, but it's the foundation of everything. The Israelites' fundamental problem wasn't the size of the giants—it was the size of their God in their eyes. They saw themselves through the lens of their circumstances rather than seeing their circumstances through the lens of God's promises.
When Joshua and Caleb said, "If the LORD delights in us, he will bring us into this land," they were declaring a radical trust: God's pleasure in us is greater than any obstacle before us.
Belief isn't just mental agreement. It's active trust that moves your feet forward even when your heart is pounding. It's choosing to see the stronghold as bread—as the very thing that will make you stronger.
2. Trust the Testimony of Those Who Have Had Victory
Here's a reality many of us resist: Sometimes we want to forge our own path, to be pioneers, to prove ourselves independently. But there's profound wisdom in following those God has placed among us who have already walked through victory.
God's decision was decisive: Of the twelve spies, only two were allowed to enter the Promised Land—Caleb (the older) and Joshua (the younger). Everyone else, an entire generation, had to die in the wilderness. This wasn't arbitrary. These two men had a "different spirit" (Numbers 14:24). They had proven their faith, and God was saying, "Follow them."
Your leaders aren't perfect, but if God has placed proven, faith-filled people in your life, humble yourself and learn from them. They can show you the shortcut you're looking for. They've already faced giants and discovered that strongholds really do become bread. Let their testimony strengthen your faith.
3. Consecrate Yourself to the Purposes of God
Before crossing the Jordan River, something remarkable happened. The generation that had wandered in the wilderness underwent circumcision at Gilgal (Joshua 5:2-9). This was both painful and necessary—a cutting away of the flesh, a recommitment to the covenant.
The text tells us that the generation born in the wilderness had not been circumcised. But before they could enter the promise, they had to consecrate themselves. They had to choose, through a painful but purposeful act, to align themselves completely with God's purposes.
What does consecration look like for us? It means:
Cutting away the things that hold us back from God's purposes
Making the painful but necessary decisions to fully commit
Surrendering our agenda for His mission
Allowing God to remove what needs to be removed, even when it hurts
This isn't about earning God's favor—it's about positioning ourselves to receive what He's already promised.
My Own Generational Giants
I need to be vulnerable with you for a moment, because this message isn't just theoretical for me—it's deeply personal.
I remember living in fear that the generational brokenness that plagued my father's side of the family was going to come upon me. The history was dark: mental illness, addiction, broken relationships, and trauma that cascaded through generations like a curse.
My grandmother was institutionalized for schizophrenia. Her mental illness ultimately led to divorce when my father, the oldest of four siblings, was in his formative years. In a rare moment of vulnerability, my dad shared with me the pain of being a young boy riding the bus to see his mom at the asylum, never knowing whether it would be a good day or a bad day. Would she recognize him? Would she be lucid? Or would he face the confusion and fear of seeing his mother lost in her own mind?
That trauma overwhelmed his capacity to cope and laid the foundation for a pattern of broken intimacy that would define his life—four marriages, each one a attempt to find connection, each one ending in pain. He turned to alcohol to numb the ache, and that addiction would eventually take his life. He passed suddenly of heart failure, and to my knowledge, he never surrendered to Christ before his death.
It's a sad generational story—filled with potential but rife with sadness.
I share this not to lament, but to be honest about the giants in my own generation: mental illness, addiction, broken marital bonds, and trauma. These were my strongholds, the fortified walls that seemed destined to imprison me just as they had imprisoned those who came before me.
But by the grace of God, I stand on the other side of those walls. I have been married now for nineteen years. I am free from substance addiction. My immediate family is clear from signs of mental illness. The cycle has been broken.
And here's what I want you to understand: Those battles have become my bread.
The warfare I've fought in prayer, the intentional work of forging a culture of a godly family, the daily decision to deny the pain and fear of my own life's journey from dominating my thinking—all of it has fueled redemption. The very things that were meant to destroy me have made me stronger. The giants didn't disappear, but I learned that with God, they become sustenance for the journey.
The strongholds that looked impossible? They became the testimony that now encourages others. The generational curse? It became a platform to display God's power to break chains. The trauma that could have crippled me? It became compassion that allows me to minister to others walking through their own pain.
My strongholds became my bread.
The Stronghold That Will Make You Stronger
So let me close with this encouragement: Whatever giant you're facing right now, whatever stronghold seems impossible to breach, God is inviting you to see it differently.
That intimidating challenge in your career? It's bread. That relationship that seems beyond repair? It's bread. That financial mountain? It's bread. That generational pattern you're desperate to break? It's bread.
The very thing designed to keep you out of your promise can become the source of your strength—if you'll respond with faith instead of fear.
You don't have to wander for forty years. You don't have to wait for a new generation. God is inviting you today to:
Believe Him at His word
Trust the testimony of those who've gone before you
Consecrate yourself fully to His purposes
Choose the fast track. Walk through your Red Sea moment into new life, and then don't stop at the border of your promise. Step forward in faith, knowing that the God who brought you out is faithful to bring you in.
Your strongholds are about to become your bread.
"The LORD is with us. Do not be afraid of them." - Numbers 14:9
