My worn Bible lay open before me. I had that look of pained reflection that often attends my guided prayer times. Hoping for fresh insight, I reread Psalm 33:16–17 slowly and prayerfully: “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.” My devotional exercise asked, “What do you look to for your deliverance?” Essentially, in what are you placing false hope for salvation?

While I don’t trust in standing armies or military might for deliverance, I still felt the implied rebuke. I was drawn inexorably to a simple conclusion: I’m my own war horse.

I trust in myself. I trust I can handle what comes my way in my flesh’s strength. I trust I can carry out my God-given responsibilities on my own. I can prepare an adequate sermon because of my theological training. I can structure a discipleship ministry because of my experience. I can raise my children based on the books I’ve read. I trust in the earthen vessel, not the treasure within.

I’m my own war horse. God help me. What hope do I have if I depend on myself?

Haunted by this question, I stumbled on Isaiah 22:8–14 in my Bible-reading plan and renewed my zeal to root out the subtle sin of self-reliance from my prone-to-wander heart.

Hezekiah’s Self-Reliance

In Isaiah 22, God orchestrates a test for good king Hezekiah, his advisers, and the whole nation. Isaiah says it clearly: The Lord “stripped away the defenses of Judah” (v. 8, NIV). So how will Judah respond? Will the people look to God in faith, or to themselves?

In action flicks, when super soldiers or spectacular spies are cornered, they look around for whatever resources are at hand to use as a weapon. They’re confident that with the right tool, they can save themselves. Hezekiah’s eyes betray the same confidence. He “looked . . . to the weapons in the Palace of the Forest,” and then he “saw that the walls of the City of David” were in a state of sad disrepair (vv. 8–9, emphasis added).

Eyes are a window to the soul. In Hezekiah’s gaze, we see a soul that leans on self. As Alec Motyer writes, “Why bother with faith when you have walls, water and weapons? Why look to God when you can look to your own resources?”

My Instinct Too

Eyes are a window to the soul. In Hezekiah’s gaze, we see a soul that leans on self.

That’s my tendency too. Is it yours? When trouble comes, I look around for what resources I have to ameliorate the suffering, mitigate the damage, or eliminate the threat. I’m quick to prepare but slow to pray.

I recently received some honest feedback about the state of my church. I was asked, “Are we ready to carry out the vision God’s given us?” “Likely not,” I admitted. But facing that reality, I didn’t humble myself or seek God. Instead, I made excuses and plans. “This isn’t my fault,” I moaned, “but I can definitely fix it.”

I’m no different than Hezekiah.

After all, what did he do when enemies threatened? Did he cry to God, or call to his advisers? The latter, just like me. Hezekiah tore down houses (never mind who lived there) to strengthen the wall, and he built a reservoir to ensure the city’s water supply in case of siege. Worldly wise moves from a foolishly self-trusting heart.

Look to God. See His Deliverance.

“The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God’” (Ps. 14:1). Hezekiah would’ve never said that aloud (nor would we), but it’s clear his heart is shouting this maddening foolishness. Notice how Isaiah rebukes him: “You did not look to him who did it, or see him who planned it long ago” (Isa. 22:11).

Hezekiah didn’t look to God or see his wise planning. (There are those eyes again, opening a sobering window into his soul.) Hezekiah didn’t trust the unfailingly trustworthy God. But no part of Judah’s crisis caught God by surprise. He chose Jerusalem as his dwelling, despite his omniscient understanding of its vulnerable water supply.

We might wonder why God chooses what he does, but the answer is simple: God purposefully sets us in situations where we must look to him for deliverance. He tests us to see if we’ll exercise faith or fall into the subtle seduction of self-reliance.

When you experience an alarming symptom, do you turn first to a specialist or to the God who heals? When ends don’t meet, do you think first of a new budget or side gig, to “what you will eat or what you will drink” (Matt. 6:25), or do you turn to your Father who knows what you need, your Provider who cares for the birds of the air and the grass of the field? When you’re stumped at work, in danger of missing a deadline, or panicking about looming layoffs, would you rather hire a consultant or hear from your Wonderful Counselor?

Expressing faith in word is easier than exercising faith in deed.

Revelry or Repentance?

When troubles come, we learn where our trust truly lies. God brings challenges so we understand our wayward hearts aright. God calls Israel to repent, “to weep and to wail, to tear out [their] hair and put on sackcloth” (Isa. 22:12, NIV). They choose nihilistic revelry instead, eating and drinking in light of their impending death by siege (v. 13).

This sinful response arises from the same spiritual disease we have. They first do all they can to fix it themselves, then they sit back and let the chips fall where they may. We do the same. We start with the workweek, but if that fails, there’s always the weekend. Either way, we can take care of ourselves.

God purposefully sets us in situations where we must look to him for deliverance.

Lest we miss the point, the Lord speaks with smoke-clearing bluntness: “Till your dying day this sin will not be atoned for” (v. 14). What? Is self-reliance the unforgivable sin? If it’s entrenched, unrepentant self-reliance, it may be, because our only hope of atonement lies outside ourselves. Until we lay our striving down, we can never pick Christ’s salvation up. We have to empty our self-reliant hands to clutch the cross.

Even now, the ancient Serpent subtly seduces us to rely on self: “You’ve got this. You can handle it on your own. God helps those who help themselves.” Drown out his deception by loudly proclaiming the truth. We don’t have this, but he’s got us.

We don’t need a war horse. We have Jesus instead.