The Wrong Miracle
by Royce
“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much.” — Luke 16:10
When people watched Alex Honnold scale Taipei 101 without ropes on January 25, 2026, they called it crazy. Suicidal. Impossible. A thousand feet of glass and steel with nothing between him and death except grip strength and nerve. From the ground, it looked like a death-defying miracle.
But Honnold had trained on hundreds of rock faces. He’d rehearsed routes until his amygdala—the brain’s fear center—stopped treating familiar holds as threats. He’d practiced slow, intentional movement until his nervous system learned to recognize deadly situations as known territory. What looked like a miraculous moment was actually the public display of private preparation. When he reached the top, his only response was “Sick.” Not elation. Not relief. A regulated nervous system doing what it had been trained to do.
We read David versus Goliath the same way—as miraculous upset. Shepherd boy defeats giant warrior with one stone. We celebrate the moment in the valley of Elah and miss the real miracle hiding in plain sight in the text.
The real miracle wasn’t the stone that killed Goliath. The real miracle was that David survived the bears and lions.
The text mentions almost casually that David killed lions and bears while protecting his sheep. Read that again. A teenage shepherd survived attacks from the most agile, unpredictable predators in Israel. Alone. Repeatedly.
Those moments were harder than Goliath. A nine-foot man in heavy armor is a stationary target moving in predictable patterns. A charging bear and lion is not. Nobody was watching. There were no crowds. No king. No army. Just a teenager, some sheep, and predators that could kill him in seconds.
Those moments did three things:
First, they built skill. David practiced his sling at distance, learning to hit moving targets. The stone that dropped Goliath wasn’t luck—it was the result of countless throws in the wilderness.
Second, they regulated fear. David’s nervous system learned the pattern: danger appears, God delivers, I survive. His amygdala, like Honnold’s, learned to recognize life-threatening situations as familiar territory.
Third, they accumulated evidence. David didn’t have blind faith. He had experiential knowledge. “The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine.” Past capacity predicted future capacity.
The valley of Elah wasn’t a miracle moment. It was David’s public deployment of privately-built capacity.
When Jesus says “whoever can be trusted with few,” the fuller meaning is: Can you build capacity in private that prepares you for public deployment?
David wasn’t faithful to his “few sheep” simply by showing up. He built the skill, courage, and spiritual confidence that facing Goliath required. The bears and lions weren’t obstacles delaying his real assignment. They were the curriculum preparing him for it.
This challenges two false narratives:
- The worldly narrative says: Big moments require talent, luck, or charisma. David got lucky with the stone.
- The religious narrative says: Big moments require God to miraculously override your lack of preparation. Just have faith and God will show up.
Both are wrong. David practiced his sling. He built skill. He learned to execute under pressure. And he trusted the God who had delivered him before. The miracle was that God used wilderness battles to train a shepherd for a national crisis.
Your current “bear and lion” moments aren’t obstacles to your calling. They’re the training ground. That difficult client who tests your patience. The financial pressure that tempts compromise. The leadership decision no one else sees. The pitch that failed. The investor who said no. These aren’t delays before your “real” assignment. They’re building the capacity your “Goliath” will require.
You’re not building a resume. You’re building a nervous system that recognizes God in crisis. You’re accumulating evidence that He delivers. The marketplace doesn’t need more leaders hoping for miracles. It needs leaders who’ve been trained in the wilderness. Leaders who can face their “Goliath” and say: “The Lord who delivered me from the bear will deliver me from this.”
Personal Reflection:
- What “bear and lion” is God currently using to train your capacity? Are you treating it as an obstacle or recognizing it as curriculum?
- Are you building skill alongside trust, or hoping God will bypass the training and just deliver the miracle?
- When you face your next “Goliath,” will you be able to say: “The Lord who delivered me from _____ will deliver me from this”?
Prayer:
Father, give us David’s perspective—that private faithfulness builds public capacity. Train our spirits as Honnold trained his amygdala. Not to eliminate risk or control outcomes, but to recognize Your presence as safety even in danger. Help us see that the miracle isn’t the moment everyone watches. It’s the accumulated training no one sees. The bears we survived. The lions we struck down. The countless wilderness battles where You delivered us. When our “Goliath” appears, let us stand not with desperate hope, but with practiced confidence. Not because we trust our skill, but because we’ve learned to trust Your faithfulness—with evidence. Amen.