What if the place you are hiding in is the very place God meets you?

I can’t help but wonder… did the angel of the Lord know how terrified Gideon was?

He calls him a “mighty man of valor,” yet Gideon is hiding, in a winepress, trying to thresh wheat in secret so the Midianites won’t find him. You can read the full account in Judges 6:11-16.

The irony is striking.

God declares Gideon’s strength, courage, and valor while Gideon is crouched in fear, doing something that doesn’t even make sense—threshing wheat in a winepress.

A winepress is sunken and enclosed. Threshing wheat needs wind, yet Gideon is essentially working in a cave, with no wind in sight.

And yet, this is where God meets him.

Not after Gideon proves himself. Not once he finds his courage. But right there, in the fear, in the hiding, in the weakness.

Perhaps that’s the point.

God doesn’t speak to who Gideon believes he is in that moment. He speaks to who Gideon will become.

Maybe that’s how God sees us when we come to Him. Gideon wasn’t just hiding from the Midianites. He was hiding from a version of himself shaped more by fear than by truth.

And perhaps that’s where we find ourselves too.

We may still see ourselves as we’ve always been—fearful, uncertain, shaped by old patterns and lies, but God sees something entirely new. As 2 Corinthians 5:17 reminds us, we are a new creation in Christ; the old has gone, the new has come.

And when we embrace the fullness of Christ’s redeeming work on the cross and His resurrection, we are given a new identity. We are no longer who we once were. Throughout Scripture we are told who we are.

We are chosen, holy, and beloved.
We are God’s workmanship, created with a purpose.
His Spirit now lives within us—to transform us, guide us, empower us, and convict us.
And we are called, as ambassadors, to represent Him in the world.

Does a butterfly know it was once a caterpillar?

Can we truly grasp what it means to pass from death to life, or even begin to imagine the chorus of angels rejoicing over our new birth?

While this new identity becomes ours in an instant, it takes time to grow into that reality. But first, we must believe that it is true, and let it soak into every corner of our being.

Like Gideon, we must confront the lies we’ve believed, the ones that have shaped our thinking and our choices and have kept us stuck in our own winepresses.

This is not about becoming someone else, but becoming who we were always meant to be. As C. S. Lewis so aptly reminds us in his book, Mere Christianity, “The more we let God take us over, the more truly ourselves we become, because He made us. He invented us.”

The new collides with the old.

We sense the change, even if we can’t fully explain it. New desires take root, yet old patterns still linger. What once felt natural now feels out of place, and what once felt foreign begins to feel like home.

It’s a strange in-between place, yet all of it is true. And still, we struggle to live in the reality of that newness.

I remember when this tension became very real for me. When I first became a believer I felt like an imposter, as if the old was overshadowing the new. I feared those around me would notice the “hypocrisy” I perceived in myself, and I began to question the reality of my own conversion.

Without realizing it at the time, the enemy was at work, causing me to question the authenticity of my new identity, and doubt whether what took place in my heart was even real, genuine, and lasting.

And yet, something undeniable was happening.

Things that once held my attention in my old life began to lose their grip. The romance novels I once devoured no longer appealed to me. In their place came a sudden, almost consuming desire to read the Bible—something that would have felt foreign to me before now is life-giving.

God began to soften my heart toward those I had judged or needed to forgive. I found myself having conversations with Jesus as if He were right there with me, and praying for people I barely knew. I couldn’t resist telling anyone I locked eyes with about my new relationship with Jesus. I began asking for a kinder, more compassionate heart, one that would help me focus more on others than on myself.

That prayer never gets old. And thank God, neither does His sanctifying grace.

I lived with myself long enough to know that those changes could only be explained as the supernatural work of the Spirit. As Paul tells us in Romans 8:16, “The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God.”

And Galatians 3:3 (NLT) reminds us, “How foolish can you be? After starting your new lives in the Spirit, why are you now trying to become perfect by your own human effort?”

When we come to Christ, the Spirit’s work in us may feel unfamiliar, unsettling, even exhilarating—and unmistakably real.

Despite the strangeness of this new birth, it is only by His grace that we can step into who He says we are and begin to walk in our God-given identity. Like Gideon, God sees us as a new creation and calls us to step into our purpose—to live, love and serve courageously for His glory, right where we are.

I surrendered my life to Christ over 30 years ago. Even now, when old fears, uncertainties, or doubts surface, He continues to remind me, especially in the winepress, who I am in Christ and what I’m called to do.

How about you? Have you found it challenging to navigate the tension between the old and the new self?

The winepress may be where He meets you, but it was never meant to be where you stay.

As a small child, I quickly learned the feeling of inadequacy. Although I could’t fully describe it, it was an unhinged belief that I was not good enough. Does that strike a chord? My grandmother, never intending to hurt me, would tease me by making comments about how naive I was. Although she said naive, I heard dumb, and that belief stuck.

Those feelings of shame and inferiority followed me into my teenage and adult years. Even the slightest comments from others could trigger that same sense of inadequacy. My mind replayed those past feelings over and over, quietly reinforcing lies about who I was.

When we rehearse old hurts or past trauma, our brain’s alarm center, called the amygdala, stays activated. That ongoing stress keeps cortisol elevated, fueling fear and anxiety. But research also shows that when we deliberately shift our attention or reframe our thoughts, the part of the brain responsible for thinking and planning begins to quiet the “emotional alarm system” and helps us regulate our feelings more effectively.

As trauma researcher Bessel van der Kolk explains in his book, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma, the body often continues to respond as if the threat is still present, even when the danger has long passed. The nervous system becomes primed for survival. The muscles tighten, the heart races, and the brain remains on high alert, because the body “remembers” what happened, not just the mind.

In other words: what we repeatedly think, we literally wire into the brain and it begins to shape our reality.

God Designed the Brain for Renewal

Here’s the good news: God created our brains with the ability to change. Scientists call it neuroplasticity— the brain’s built-in capacity to reorganize, rewire, form new connections, and strengthen healthier pathways over time. That means we are not doomed to think the same thoughts, react the same way, or remain stuck in old patterns forever.

The same brain that learned to live in survival mode can, over time, learn new ways of responding. When we interrupt that loop by reframing our thoughts, taking them captive, choosing truth over fear or talking it through with a trusted counselor or friend— the part of the brain that helps us think clearly and make wise choices begins to settle the alarm system. Over time, our minds form healthier pathways.

This is part of the renewing work Scripture points to where God patiently transforms our thinking so we can press forward instead of staying bound to a painful past.

When we repeatedly dwell on fear, shame, or hurt, the brain “practices” those responses and they become our default way of thinking. But when we interrupt those loops through truth, prayer, gratitude, forgiveness, journaling, counseling, or community, the brain slowly builds new pathways toward peace and clarity.

In other words, the same brain that once rehearsed worry, ruminated on false realities, or was stuck in past trauma, can now take those thoughts captive and be renewed by the transforming work of the Holy Spirit.

This is exactly what Scripture has taught all along:

“Take every thought captive to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5).

“Be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2).

“Be renewed in the spirit of your mind.” (Ephesians 4:23).

“You keep in perfect peace those whose minds are stayed on You.” (Isaiah 26:3).

God never commands what He doesn’t also empower. He didn’t simply tell us to “think differently,” He designed the brain so that renewed thinking becomes instinctive over time. As we release the past into His hands, our thoughts begin to align with His truth. Our reactions begin to grow calmer and more grounded with less and less triggering. Peace becomes more familiar. Hope becomes more accessible.

That’s not positive thinking.

That’s spiritual formation supported by God-designed biology.

Closing

What lies about yourself have you believed because of old hurts or past trauma?

We can rejoice because God invites us to exchange those lies for His truth, renew our minds, and to walk in the freedom of who He has called us to be.

Every Easter season, the same question is raised—

Did it really happen?

Did Jesus truly rise from the dead or is the resurrection simply a meaningful story meant to inspire hope?

This is not a small question. It is everything.

As Tim Keller once said,

“If Jesus rose from the dead, then you have to accept all that he said; if he didn’t rise from the dead, then why worry about any of what he said?”

There is no middle ground.

A Claim Rooted in Real Time and Place

What I find so compelling is that the resurrection is not presented as a vague spiritual idea. It is a historical claim, anchored in a real city, at a real point in history.

At the center of that claim is this:

A publicly executed man—whose life, death, and resurrection fulfilled dozens of specific Old Testament prophecies written centuries before He was born.

One example is Isaiah 53, which tells us that the Messiah would be rejected, suffer in our place, be pierced for our transgressions, remain silent before His accusers, be unjustly condemned and killed, and be buried in a way no one would expect. And yet, He would live again, be vindicated, and bring righteousness to many.

In fact Psalm 22 depicts a description of crucifixion centuries before it was even practiced! Even when Jesus cried out while on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He was drawing attention to the whole Psalm—one that begins in suffering but ends in victory.

These are not vague impressions. They are specific threads woven together long before Jesus was born now seen clearly in His life, death, and resurrection. This is not a disconnected event. It is the culmination of a story God had been writing for generations.

The Place It Could Have Been Stopped

In a recent conversation, Wesley Huff pointed out something simple, yet profound:

The resurrection was proclaimed in Jerusalem, the very place where Jesus had been crucified.

Within weeks, His followers stood in that same city and declared:

“God has raised this Jesus to life, and we are all witnesses of it.” (Acts 2:32)

Not in secret. Not at a distance.
But in the very place where it could have been most easily refuted and and yet, no one was able to disprove the testimony of those who claimed to have seen Him alive..

What was Expected to End Became the Beginning

From Rome’s perspective, crucifixion was designed not only to execute—but to silence.
To end movements and erase threats.

And so, when Jesus was crucified, the expectation would have been clear:

This movement is over.

But the opposite happened.

Instead of fading, it grew.
Instead of scattering permanently, His followers regrouped with boldness.
Instead of silence, there was proclamation.

And this pattern continued.

As the early church faced increasing persecution, the message did not disappear—it spread.

One of the early church fathers, Tertullian, observed this very reality when he wrote:

“The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.”

What Rome intended to suppress became the very thing that strengthened and multiplied the movement.

This is not how fabricated stories behave.
This is how truth, anchored in reality, endures.

What Rome intended to suppress became the very thing that accelerated the movement.

This is not how fabricated stories behave.
This is how truth, anchored in reality, endures.

Carefully Preserved, Publicly Testable

There is another piece of this story that adds to its credibility.

The Gospel accounts were written within the lifetime of those who had witnessed these events. These were not distant legends formed generations later. They were recorded while people were still alive who could have challenged or refuted them.

And yet, the message endured.

When we compare the Gospel accounts to other ancient writings, whether the histories of Julius Caesar or Tacitus, or even the philosophical works of Plato and Aristotle, which are widely accepted despite being preserved in far fewer and much later copies, we begin to see just how uniquely well attested the New Testament is.

In other words, what we read today is not a distorted version of a long-lost story. It is a faithful transmission of what was witnessed and proclaimed from the beginning.

An Unexpected Detail That Gets Our Attention

There is another detail in the Gospel accounts that is incredibly significant, although easy to miss.

All four Gospels record that women were the first witnesses to discover the empty tomb.

In our modern world, that may not seem surprising. But in the first century, a woman’s testimony was often not given the same weight as a man’s in legal settings.

If the resurrection accounts were fabricated, this would be a strange and counterproductive detail to include.

As N. T. Wright and others have noted, this is the kind of detail you would not invent if you were trying to make your story more credible.

And yet, Scripture preserves it—quietly, honestly, without apology.

It reads not like propaganda, but like truth.

Secular Evidence of the Resurrection

Even outside of Scripture, we find confirmation of these events.

Historians like Tacitus and Josephus, who were not followers of Jesus, record that He lived, was crucified, and that His followers believed He had risen.

These are not voices trying to defend Christianity, yet they point to the same reality. Something happened that changed everything.

A Faith That Is Not Blind

Christianity does not ask us to check our minds at the door.

It invites us to consider:

• A publicly executed man

• The fulfillment of long-anticipated promises and predictions

• Eyewitness accounts recorded early and open to scrutiny

• A remarkably preserved record of those accounts

• An empty tomb

• Testimony that includes unexpected and countercultural details

• A movement that grew in the very place it could have been stopped

• A church that expanded even under persecution

• A dramatic transformation of fearful followers into bold witnesses

Taken together, these are not the marks of a carefully crafted legend.

They are the marks of something real, something true.

When Faith Feels Like Doubt

And yet, even with all the evidence, many of us can relate to Thomas, one of the disciples, often remembered as “doubting Thomas.”

Thomas had walked with Jesus.
He had seen the miracles.
He had heard the teaching.

And still, when told that Jesus had risen, he said:

“Unless I see… I will not believe.” (John 20:25)

There is something deeply honest about that.

Because many of us live in a similar tension.

We have seen God’s faithfulness.
We have experienced His provision.
And yet, at times, we still wrestle with doubt.

But notice how Jesus responds to Thomas.

Not with rejection. Not with shame. But with invitation.

“Put your finger here… Stop doubting and believe.” (John 20:27)

Jesus meets Thomas in his doubt and reveals Himself.

And Thomas responds:

“My Lord and my God.”

And then Jesus speaks words that reach far beyond that moment. It’s a message for us.

“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” (John 20:29)

Despite all the evidence, Jesus acknowledges that faith is still required to believe.

More Than Evidence—An Invitation

The resurrection is not just something to examine. It is something to respond to.

Because if Jesus truly rose from the dead, then:

• His claims are true

• His authority is real

• And our identity is no longer defined by sin, loss, or striving—but by redemption

This is where it becomes personal.

Not just: Did it happen?
But: What does it mean for me that it did?

A Final Word

They did not go to a distant land to tell this story.

They stood in the very city where Jesus was crucified and said,
“He is risen.”

And no one could silence them—not because it was convenient,
but because something had happened that could not be undone.

The same God who worked quietly in Bethlehem…
the same God who worked silently in the tomb…

is still at work today.

And He is still calling us—not just to believe the story,
but to trust the Savior who stands at the center of it all.

Reflection:

• Despite all the evidence, do you still doubt the ressurection of Christ?

• If the resurrection is true, what does that mean for how you view God and your identity today?