In the early days of my walk with God—especially when I was studying faith—I unknowingly built a definition of faith that wasn’t biblical.
In my mind, faith was almost like a spiritual muscle you prove by doing the opposite of caution. If something looked risky, then it must be faith. If something looked wise, then it must be fear.
I didn’t say it that bluntly, but that’s how I lived.
And honestly, the pattern showed up in real life in ways that are almost embarrassing now—except that I think many believers quietly carry the same assumptions.
Let me show you what I mean.
1) The Spoiled Chicken Biriyani I Ate “By Faith”
Once my wife made chicken biriyani.
We ate, enjoyed it, and then we forgot to put the remaining biriyani into the fridge.
By the next day, it was clearly spoiled.
The smell was terrible—strong enough that anyone with common sense would throw it away immediately. It stunk. And when I tasted it, it tasted exactly like it smelled.
But of course, I saw this as a test of my “faith”.
So I ate it anyway.
Why?
Because I wanted to “operate in faith.”
I thought: If I throw it away, I’m being fear-driven. If I eat it, I’m being faith-driven.
By God’s grace, I didn’t get stomach issues.
But looking back, that moment exposed my definition of faith:
faith = bravado.
Not trust.
Not hearing God.
Not obedience.
Just trying to prove something.
2) The Rainy Bike Ride to a Prayer Meeting
Another time, it started raining heavily.
My wife and I still wanted to go to a prayer meeting. And we remembered stories—how people prayed and storms stopped, how rain “obeyed,” how God intervened.
So we prayed:
“Rain, stop in Jesus’ name.”
And then we did something that, at the time, felt “spiritual”:
We rode our bikes with no umbrella, no raincoat, no covering.
Because we thought, If we take an umbrella, that means we didn’t really believe.
In our minds, using wisdom was the same as admitting doubt.
So we rode.
And the rain didn’t stop.
We didn’t arrive “victorious and dry.”
We arrived completely drenched—soaking wet—like two people who forgot how weather works.
Again, the pattern was clear:
faith = bravado.
Faith meant acting like normal human precautions were unbelief.
3) The Earthquake in Bulgaria: “If I Run, That’s Fear”
My wife once told me about a moment from when she was studying in Bulgaria.
There was a massive earthquake—strong enough that it shook her building.
People’s instincts were to run, take cover, get to safety.
But she didn’t.
She stood there.
Why?
Because her understanding of faith at the time was similar to mine:
If I run for cover, I’m afraid.
If I stand still in danger, I’m in faith.
Same pattern again:
faith = bravado.
And wisdom got treated like fear.
4) Hosting Strangers From Because Wisdom Felt Like Unbelief
In the early years of our marriage, we were serving in youth ministry.
One evening, a group of young men—about 4 or 5—showed up. They said they were with YWAM and that they were walking from Munich. They asked if they could stay with us.
We didn’t know them.
We didn’t know if they were truly from YWAM.
We didn’t know their background, intentions, or anything.
Objectively, it was risky.
But we let them stay.
Why?
Because again, our internal logic said:
If we say no, that’s fear.
If we say yes, that’s faith.
So we made the choice—not primarily because we had clarity, but because we felt pressured by our own definition of faith.
Once again:
faith = bravado.
The Common Thread: I Thought Faith Was Showing I’m Not Afraid
Looking back, all these stories had the same spiritual DNA.
I believed faith was:
- doing the riskier option
- rejecting normal precautions
- proving boldness
- treating wisdom like compromise
- acting as if caution equals unbelief
It’s not that faith can’t be bold.
It can.
But boldness is not the definition of faith.
And Scripture corrects this in a way that brings so much freedom.
Jesus Corrects My Definition of Faith
Jesus said something that doesn’t fit “faith = bravado” at all:
“When you see Jerusalem surrounded by armies… then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains.” — Luke 21:20–21
Jesus literally commanded a retreat.
He didn’t say, “Stay and show them how fearless you are.”
He said: Run.
Which means this:
Sometimes leaving is faith.
Sometimes escaping is obedience.
Sometimes wisdom is the most faith-filled choice you can make.
If running were automatically unbelief, Jesus would never have commanded it.
Hebrews 11: Faith Looks Different in Different People
Hebrews 11 shows one faith expressed through many different actions:
- Noah built.
- Abraham left.
- Rahab hid.
- Moses refused.
- Israel crossed.
- Others endured.
Different actions. Same faith.
Why?
Because faith is not the action.
Faith is the trust that produces obedience.
A Refined Biblical Definition of Faith
Here’s the definition that finally corrected me:
Faith is active trust in God expressed through obedience to His present leading.
Not showmanship.
Not proving courage.
Not spiritual adrenaline.
Trust → obedience.
That’s faith.
Faith Is Relational, Not Mechanical
Faith is not a formula like:
“If I do the boldest thing, God must respond.”
That mindset made me eat spoiled biriyani, ride in rain uncovered, and treat danger like a stage for spirituality.
But biblical faith is relational:
“I trust You, Lord—so I will follow You.”
That means:
- faith can look like confronting
- faith can look like withdrawing
- faith can look like planning
- faith can look like waiting
- faith can look like fleeing to the mountains
Same faith.
Different expressions.
Because the point is not bravado.
The point is listening.
Faith vs Fear: What’s the Difference?
This is where Romans 10:17 anchors everything:
“Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ.” — Romans 10:17
Faith isn’t mainly a personality trait (bold vs cautious).
Faith begins when God speaks—when His word defines reality for you, and the Spirit leads you in alignment with Scripture.
Fear is self-preservation without trust.
Faith is obedience rooted in trust.
And wisdom?
Wisdom is not fear.
Wisdom is often the shape faith takes in real life.
The Freedom of Real Faith
When I stopped treating faith like bravado, a new kind of peace entered my walk with God.
I didn’t feel the need to prove anything.
I didn’t need to “perform faith.”
I could trust God and still be wise.
I could pray and still carry an umbrella.
I could help strangers and still use discernment.
I could take risks when God leads—and step back when God leads.
Conclusion: Sometimes Faith Runs to the Mountains
Faith is not the loudest, boldest, most dramatic option.
Faith is not spiritual recklessness.
Faith is active trust in God expressed through obedience to His present leading.
And sometimes…
Jesus Himself says:
Run to the mountains.
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