Day 91

Deuteronomy 28 | John 18:19–40 | Psalm 39

The contrast couldn’t be sharper.

One man stands in the place of power, robed in authority, flanked by guards. The other stands bound, bruised, and accused.

One speaks in questions, trying to navigate the messy politics of the moment. The other speaks with certainty, unmoved by the weight of public opinion.

One man fears the crowd. The other fears God.

Pilate and Jesus.

A ruler and a prisoner.

A coward and a King.

Fear of Man vs. Fear of God

Pilate’s problem wasn’t a lack of intelligence.

It wasn’t even a lack of morality.

It was a lack of courage.

He knew the truth. He knew Jesus was innocent.

“I find no guilt in Him.” (John 18:38)

And yet, when the crowd cried for blood, Pilate didn’t stand firm.

He didn’t protect the innocent.

He didn’t use his authority to do what was right.

He caved.

Because the fear of man overpowered the fear of God.

How often do I do the same?

When I sense God nudging me to speak up—but I stay silent because I don’t want to make things awkward.

When I know I should set a boundary—but I bend because I don’t want to be labeled unkind.

When I hesitate to share my faith—not because I lack belief, but because I fear judgment.

It’s easy to shake my head at Pilate until my mind is flooded with times I’ve been no different.

After my accident, people often asked me how I was holding up—sometimes coworkers, sometimes strangers. Those moments felt like unique opportunities to talk about God’s sustaining grace. I could have shared how prayer carried me through the darkest nights, how I’d seen His hand at work even in pain.

But more often than I’d like to admit, I shrugged it off with a generic answer.

Because I didn’t want to come off as “that guy”—the one who always talks about faith. I worried it would sound too spiritual or make people uncomfortable.

So I brushed it off—“It’s coming along”—and left the deeper story unsaid.

Just like Pilate, I chose the easier path—the one of least resistance. I knew the truth but feared the reaction.

In choosing compromise, I chose complicity.

Truth on Trial

Pilate asked, “What is truth?” (John 18:38)

It wasn’t an honest question. It was a deflection.

A way to avoid commitment.

A way to remain neutral.

But truth doesn’t bend to public pressure.

It doesn’t change to accommodate comfort.

It doesn’t evolve over time to suit cultural trends.

Jesus didn’t waver in His answer. He knew who He was.

“For this purpose I was born and for this purpose I have come into the world—to bear witness to the truth.” (John 18:37)

Truth was on trial, and the judge couldn’t recognize it.

And how often do we do the same?

When we let culture dictate our convictions.

When we choose comfort over courage.

When we rationalize sin instead of repenting of it.

It’s easy to shake our heads at Pilate.

But if I’m honest, I see more of him in me than I’d like to admit.

The King Who Didn’t Flinch

While Pilate wavered, Jesus stood firm.

While Pilate avoided conflict, Jesus faced it head-on.

While Pilate sought to escape responsibility, Jesus shouldered it.

He didn’t deny the truth.

He didn’t negotiate His innocence.

He didn’t look for a loophole.

He stepped forward into suffering.

He absorbed the lies.

He carried the shame.

He endured the wrath I deserved.

And He did it with royal resolve.

Because Jesus didn’t fear death.

He didn’t fear the crowd.

He didn’t fear the cross.

He feared the Father—and that holy fear drove Him to obedience, even unto death.

When My Courage Falters

There are days I feel like Pilate—trying to navigate faithfulness without upsetting the world.

Trying to walk the line between conviction and comfort.

Trying to avoid conflict when truth demands confrontation.

But Jesus calls me higher.

He calls me to fear God more than I fear rejection.

To speak truth even when it’s costly.

To follow Him even when it means standing alone.

And when I fail?

When I pull back?

When I shrink into silence?

He doesn’t condemn me.

He doesn’t cast me aside.

He steps forward—again—on my behalf.

And because He did, I have the strength to do the same.

⸻

Lord, forgive me when I choose comfort over courage. When I bend to the fear of man rather than standing firm in the fear of You. Help me to walk in the truth—even when it costs me something. And thank You for being the King who never wavered, never flinched, and never gave in. Amen.