I stand at the window of this moment in history, gazing out upon a world that feels both familiar and unrecognizable. Chaos and spectacle move side by side—ruins and radiance, fear and fascination, destruction wrapped in dazzling distraction. Voices rise from every direction, promising safety, certainty, salvation. Yet beneath the noise, beneath the headlines and rehearsed assurances, something deeper trembles. Scripture tells us that creation itself groans, laboring and waiting for the manifestation of the sons of God (Romans 8:19–22). It is true. The earth is not merely reacting to events—it is crying out.
Lately, I’ve been paying attention—not just to the news, but to the feeling underneath it all. The tone. The repetition. The uneasiness that lingers even when people insist everything is “fine.” And the more I sit with it, the more I realize this isn’t just about politics, culture, or current events.
Something deeper is going on.
It feels spiritual. The Bible says, “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” (Ephesians 6:12) Yes, it is deeply spiritual. There is more than meets the eye. There is an unseen war happening in heavenly realms.
For the past weeks, many of my reflections have circled around the same question: Why is God allowing certain things to happen in our world? Watching the news has become heavy—almost unbearable at times. I step away more often now, not because I don’t care, but because I have to guard my heart and mind (Philippians 4:8).
America feels more divided than I’ve ever seen it. Compassion and empathy seem non-existent. Truth appears to be negotiable. Our world does not recognize that your truth does not always equal God’s truth. God’s truth is the only truth. Jesus said, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6) And as a disciple of Jesus Christ, it grieves me to watch people walk away from faith they once stood firmly in—trading it for ideas that sound spiritual, even biblical, but don’t actually line up with Scripture (2 Timothy 4:3–4; Galatians 1:6–9).
Racism has not disappeared. Empathy feels non-existent. Violence fills our streets; it looks like government-sponsored terrorism. I cannot believe my eyes!
As I peer through the window of a troubled world, questions drift into my spirit like whispered prayers:
Watching the plight of the children in Gaza, my daughter asked me something that stopped me completely: “The children of Gaza are God’s children too, right?” Yes. They are (Matthew 19:14).
A Biblical Image That Lingers
This week, I was reading the Book of Job when one word kept standing out to me: Leviathan.
I’ve heard that word before. I’ve heard preachers mention the “spirit of Leviathan.” But this time, it wouldn’t leave me alone. God kept repeating it in my spirit, and I found myself asking, What does that really mean? What are You trying to show me?
As I prayed, I sensed the Lord making something clear: what we’re witnessing right now isn’t random. There is a spirit of Leviathan at work. But just as clearly, God reassured me of something else—He is the Bridge over Troubled Waters.
“The Lord sits enthroned over the flood; the Lord sits enthroned as King forever” (Psalm 29:10).
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you” (Isaiah 43:2).
God is not shaken by chaos. He rules over it.
This is often how God speaks to me. He gives me a word before I fully understand it. Then comes the praying, the studying, and the quiet time with Him—unpacking what He is trying to say. That process led me here, to write this.
Leviathan and the Waters
In Scripture, Leviathan isn’t just a creature. It represents a force—something proud, twisting, untamable. It dwells in dark, turbulent waters where clarity is scarce, and distortion thrives (Job 41; Psalm 74:14).
Isaiah describes Leviathan as a twisted serpent (Isaiah 27:1). Not straightforward. Not transparent. Always bending things just enough to create confusion.
And when I look around, that description feels uncomfortably familiar.
We have more information than ever, yet very little clarity. Every issue becomes a fight. Truth shifts depending on who’s speaking. Confusion has become normal (Isaiah 5:20).
But Scripture also gives us another picture over the waters:
“The Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters” (Genesis 1:2).
Before order came, there was chaos.
Before light appeared, there was darkness.
And before Leviathan ever twisted anything, God’s Spirit was already present.
That matters. And I am reminded that God is in CONTROL of it all. This is a faith walk. God brings order into chaos. Remember the Bible says, “God is not the author of confusion.”
Pride That Won’t Yield
It was pride that caused Satan to lose his position in heaven. Remember.
Job describes Leviathan as “king over all the sons of pride” (Job 41:34). That stood out to me.
Remember. Satan refuses to repent.
Observe. Our nation will not repent or bow.
Pride hardens hearts.
It shuts down listening.
It resists correction (Proverbs 16:18).
Division Everywhere
The division feels relentless.
Disagreements escalate instantly. Grace feels scarce. People aren’t just debating ideas—they’re tearing each other apart. Jesus warned that deception would increase and love would grow cold (Matthew 24:4–5, 12).
Even the Church isn’t untouched. Louder voices. Bigger platforms. Less accountability. Charisma replacing Christ. Appearance over substance.
That’s not something I say casually.
It’s something I sit with.
And pray over.
Not Fear—Discernment
What steadies me is knowing this: Leviathan is not something people defeat on their own. God deals with it Himself (Job 41:10; Isaiah 27:1).
God reveals things because He wants to heal, not shame (2 Chronicles 7:14).
So this isn’t a time for panic.
It’s a time for discernment.
For slowing down.
For listening more than reacting.
For checking our own hearts.
For returning to the fear of the Lord (Proverbs 9:10).
Jesus said deception—not just hardship—would mark these times. That makes discernment necessary.
A Question I’m Sitting With
This is the question I keep coming back to—not to examine others, but to examine myself:
Am I just reacting to what’s happening…
Or am I paying attention to the spirit influencing it?
Because once the pattern becomes clear, a different posture is possible—one rooted in humility, truth, and trust in God (Proverbs 3:5–6).
The waters are turbulent, but Christ is not unsettled. He speaks peace over storms (Mark 4:39).
And even now—especially now—hope is still here.
It’s quieter.
It’s deeper.
And it’s calling us to stay awake (Matthew 24:42).