What Do You Actually Trust?
Lent is meant to be a time of self-examination and repentance, so it’s a good moment for an honest question:
In what or whom do you truly put your trust?
I’m not asking what you claim to trust, but what or whom you actually, practically, and emotionally trust to keep you safe, secure your future, and protect the people you love.
I ask this question because Psalm 33 asks it first.
The psalm is a hymn of praise structured around four main themes: the LORD’s word in creation, his plan throughout history, his all-seeing eye, and his power. But throughout all four sections, a single word runs like a thread: ḥesed—the loyal, covenant love of God. Verse 5 proclaims that “Yahweh’s ḥesed fills the earth.” Verse 18 states that the LORD’s eye is on those who “wait for his ḥesed.” The psalm ends in verse 22 with a prayer: “May your ḥesed be over us, O LORD, as we have waited for you.”
The psalm, in rehearsing creation and God’s working through human history, his care and provision for his people, is driving toward one question, over and over: Will you wait on the ḥesed of God, or have you placed your trust somewhere else?
The Deception of the War Horse
The psalmist is very precise about what ‘somewhere else’ refers to.
The king is not saved by his great army; a warrior is not delivered by his great strength. The war horse is a false hope for salvation, and by its great might it cannot rescue (Ps 33:16–17).
The Hebrew word translated as “false hope” here is šeqer, a term meaning a lie, fraud, or false witness. The war horse is not just insufficient; it is a falsehood. It promises salvation but cannot deliver.
If this claim sounds radical to you, it was equally radical in the ancient world, where kings justified their power precisely by claiming divine support for their armies. Every Assyrian king, Egyptian pharaoh, and Babylonian ruler declared that their gods were with them, and the proof was their military strength. Voltaire later expressed this secular logic with cynical bluntness:
“God is always for the big battalions.”1
The psalm challenges this misplaced hope. Military strength, political control, economic power—these are šeqer. They are a deception. They are false hope. The nation whose God is the LORD is not recognized by its militaristic strength but by where it places its trust.
We see this deception unfold in our own time with startling clarity. Countries are spending historic amounts on weapons and armies. Political leaders everywhere promise security through strength, dominance, and the power to destroy. And the psalm says:
This is a false hope.
The war horse cannot save.
The large armies are lying to you.
Psalm 33 challenges each of us—and our nation—with a question we often struggle to ask: Where is your trust, really? Because the psalm says that where you place your ultimate trust reveals everything about who or what your G/god really is.
Leave Everything Behind
The opening words of our reading from Genesis mark the start of God’s plan for redemption. Genesis 3:11 describes the world falling into chaos, reaching its peak in the sin at the Tower of Babel, when the world is scattered, and languages are confused. Then, with Genesis 12, God’s plan of redemption begins to unfold. This is how it starts:
Now the LORD said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you” (Gen 12:1).
God does not ask Abraham to refine himself, improve his current securities, or add faith as just another item in his portfolio. Instead, he asks him to leave everything behind—country, kindred, his father’s house—and follow a promise he cannot see yet. Everything that defined Abraham, everything that gave him standing and security in the world, had to be surrendered if he was going to follow God’s promise. According to Paul in Romans 4, this is the model for faith. This is what the call of God looks like.
And this is exactly what Jesus asks of Nicodemus. Nicodemus is a Pharisee, a leader of Israel, and he comes to Jesus at night because he has too much to lose during the day. He has power, privilege, and social standing. His entire identity could be at stake if he is found associating with Jesus. He is balancing his growing loyalty to Jesus with his standing in the community, his security, and his position. Jesus won’t let him stay there much longer.
Jesus answered him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God” (John 3:3).
I don’t think we realize how incredibly heavy these words are. Nicodemus was a descendant of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. He was born into the specific family that God chose out of all the families on earth—the family with the law, the prophets, the covenant, the temple, and the place where God’s name dwelt. He had hit the lottery—the jackpot. And Jesus says: Unless you are born again, you cannot see the kingdom of God.
This statement is not a gentle invitation to experience spiritual renewal. It is a complete demand on Nicodemus’s life. His life was shaped by the family he was born into, but now, like Abraham, he must leave everything behind. He must start over. He must be born again.
The Ḥesed of the Cross
Both Abraham and Nicodemus are asked to do the same thing: to stop trusting in things that seem to offer security and instead trust in the God whose ḥesed fills the earth. In both cases, the promise involves going through death. Abraham’s heir will come from a body as good as dead, and Jesus tells Nicodemus that the path to eternal life goes through the Son of Man being lifted up on a cross.
And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life (John 3:14–15).
And then comes the verse we all know:
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
The cross is God’s ultimate answer to the psalm’s question. Where can true security be found? Not in the king’s army, not in the warrior’s strength, not in the war horse, not in the DOW, not in the right political alignment, not in collecting weapons of war, whether nationally or individually, and not in any credentials or identity the world offers. True, eternal security can only be found in the Son of Man, who was lifted up on the cross, bearing in himself the curse that brought us death, so that everyone who looks to him might live.
The ḥesed of God—the covenant faithfulness and mercy that fills the earth—is not just an idea. It has a face, and that face is Jesus’ as he suffers and cries out in pain and agony on the cross. When God wanted to show the world his power and his might, he didn’t send armies, and he didn’t drop bombs. He sent his Son, and his Son died. His death is the ultimate rejection of Voltaire’s cynical logic: the most decisive victory in history was not won by a large army but by a crucified and risen Messiah.
Waiting on the LORD
The psalm concludes with the only posture that makes sense given everything we’ve discussed.
Our soul waits for the LORD; he is our help and our shield. For our heart is glad in him, because we trust in his holy name. Let your steadfast love, O LORD, be upon us, even as we hope in you (Ps 33:20–22).
The psalm concludes with patience, hope, and trust—not in armies, political power, stock markets, or worldly securities that ultimately fail—but in the steadfast love of the one whose eye is always on those who hope in him.
Lent is a season for this kind of reflection. These forty days encourage us to ask: What are the warhorses in my life? What false securities have I trusted more than God? What is the thing I cling to in the darkness, like Nicodemus, because I am not yet willing to trust God with it in the daylight? These questions are not meant to be easy. They are meant to push us, like Abraham and Nicodemus, away from the things that once defined us and toward the God who alone will sustain us in this world and the next.
Behold, the eye of the LORD is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his steadfast love, that he may deliver their soul from death and keep them alive in famine (Ps 33:18–19).
May his eye always find us trusting not in political or military might but in his unending, everlasting, steadfast love.
Amen.
Life Group Discussion Guide
Opening Prayer
Heavenly Father, as we gather today, we ask you to open our hearts and minds to what you want to teach us through your Word. Help us honestly assess where we truly place our trust, and give us the courage to examine the areas of our lives where we might be relying on false securities instead of your steadfast love. Guide our discussion and help us encourage one another as we seek to trust more fully in you. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.
Ice Breaker
What is one thing you collected or held onto as a child that made you feel safe or secure?
Key Verses
Psalm 33
Genesis 12:1
John 3:3
John 3:14-16
Questions
Fr. Michael asks, ‘What do you actually trust?’—not what you claim to trust, but what you truly, practically trust. How would you honestly answer this question about your own life?
The psalmist refers to military strength and political power as lies or false hopes. Why do you think these things are so tempting to trust, both on a personal level and as a nation?
Abraham was called to leave ‘country, kindred, and father’s house’—everything that defined him and provided his security. What would be the modern equivalent of these things in our lives today?
Nicodemus approached Jesus ’at night’ because he had too much to risk during the day. What are some things we might be afraid to bring into the ‘daylight’ of God’s presence?
Jesus told Nicodemus he must be ‘born again.’ What do you think it practically means to be born again in terms of where we place our trust?
The sermon states that ‘the cross of Jesus Christ is God’s ultimate answer’ to questions about where true security can be found. How does the cross challenge worldly ideas about power and security?
What are some ‘war horses’ (false securities) that are especially tempting in our current culture and time?
The psalm concludes with patience, hope, and trust in God’s unfailing love. How can we nurture this kind of steady trust in our everyday lives?
Life Application
This week, identify one specific ‘war horse’ or false security in your life—something you tend to trust more than God. It could be financial security, career success, relationships, health, or reputation. Each day, intentionally choose to surrender this area to God in prayer and practice trusting in His steadfast love instead. Consider sharing this challenge with a trusted friend or family member to hold yourself accountable.
Key Takeaways
True security isn’t found in military strength, political influence, or worldly credentials - these are false hopes that ultimately deceive us.
God’s hesed (steadfast, covenantal love) fills the earth and serves as the only trustworthy foundation for our trust.
Following God means letting go of the things that once defined us and gave us security, as shown by Abraham and Nicodemus.
The cross of Jesus Christ is God’s ultimate display of power - not through force, but through sacrificial love.
Lent is a time for honest self-reflection on where we genuinely place our trust and what false securities we might be holding onto.
Ending Prayer
Lord God, we thank you for this time of discussion and reflection. We confess that too often we put our trust in things that cannot truly save us—in our own strength, in worldly securities, in the ‘war horses’ of our time. Help us to let go of these false hopes and instead place our full trust in your steadfast love revealed in Jesus Christ. May your eye always find us hoping in you, not in the things of this world. Give us the courage to live as people who genuinely believe that Your love is our ultimate security. We pray this in the name of Jesus, who was lifted up on the cross for our salvation. Amen.
Similar expressions appear in the writings of Frederick the Great of Prussia, Roger de Bussy-Rabutin (a 17th-century French officer who wrote “God is usually on the side of the big squadrons against the small”), and even Tacitus in antiquity.