As we begin a new year, I’ve been thinking about one of my favorite passages of Scripture, Psalm 119:105. The Bible says, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” It’s the kind of verse you’ve heard a thousand times. We memorized it in Sunday school, quoted it at graduation, and printed it on greeting cards. I love that verse. But sometimes, if we’re not careful, our over-familiarity with a verse can lead to deception. Let me drill down on that idea. What often feels poetic at first is, in truth, surgical, and what reads like comfort is actually a confrontation of our penchant toward independence. Why? Because this verse doesn’t offer clarity. It demands obedience. It doesn’t provide certainty, but instead calls for proximity. What I’m getting at is this is not about being inspired. This is about being led.

The Word is not a spotlight. It is not a floodlight. It is not the spiritual equivalent of GPS with turn-by-turn directions and an estimated arrival time. It is a lamp and a light, which means that the way forward is not revealed all at once. It is revealed as you walk. And for people addicted to visibility (addicted to knowing before moving), that is not romantic. It’s disruptive. But it’s also mercy, because if we saw the whole road ahead, we might not take the first step. If we knew what pruning, suffering, or surrender would cost us, we might interpret His leadership as cruelty. But the Lord gives us what we need for the next step, not the entire journey. And in doing so, He protects us…from ourselves.

The Lamp and the Light Are Not the Same

The psalmist uses two distinct images here, not for poetic redundancy, but to say something deeper. The Hebrew word for lamp is נֵר (ner), referring to a small clay oil lamp used in the ancient world. It wasn’t powerful, as it didn’t illuminate far ahead. Rather, it offered just enough light for one’s immediate steps. And the word for light, אוֹר (or), refers to broader illumination—something that exposes a wider field of view. And the path, נָתִיב (nathiv), is not just a road, but a directional course and a trajectory for how we’re to live.

What’s profound about this passage is that the psalmist doesn’t say the Word shows you where you’ll be in five years. He doesn’t say the Word is a map or a forecast. He says it is a ner and an or. A lamp for the feet, and a light for the path. Two forms of illumination. But both are tied to the Word of the Lord.

This means there will be moments in life where all you see is enough for the next step, and others in which He lights up the broader path. But here’s the kicker: it is always on His terms, not yours. There is no promise in this text of advance planning or strategic foresight. Instead, there is only the certainty that the Word is sufficient to walk faithfully, one step at a time.

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The Word Guides, Not the Algorithm

It goes without saying that modern minds are quick to recoil at this concept because we have built an entire culture around forecasting, branding, optimizing our lives, and eliminating risk at any cost. We want clarity before obedience (okay…I do). We demand certainty before surrender. And we want to know that the road is smooth, the strategy sound, and the timeline fast. But the Lord doesn’t speak to our desire for control. He speaks to our need for formation. And His Word doesn’t function like a productivity tool. It functions like a flame in the dark.

There’s a distinct reason the lamp is small: it forces you to stay close. In its presence, you can’t wander far or run ahead of its lit path. You can’t predict the whole trail. You can only walk in what’s been revealed. And that’s by design, because the purpose of the lamp is not visibility. Its purpose is to foster intimacy. The Father doesn’t give light so you can become independent of Him. He gives light so that you’ll stay dependent on Him.

That’s a word we need for 2026: dependence.

Obedience Doesn’t Wait for Clarity

Now, this is where we often get stuck. We say we’re waiting on peace and that we’re still discerning. We say we’re praying about it. But if we’re honest, most of the time, we’re simply resisting the discomfort of moving forward in the Lord without a full plan because our brains are trained to avoid uncertainty. The prefrontal cortex, which handles risk and prediction, equates “unknown” with “unsafe.” And so, what’s typically our next move? We stall. Not because we’re lacking peace, but because we’re lacking control. But this is where obedience reorients the soul.

When we choose to act on what God has said (even when the next ten steps aren’t visible), we begin to rewire our nervous systems. Eventually, our brains learn that uncertainty is not danger and that obedience is not a gamble. This is a very important step of development for the believer who is called to maturity as a son of God. In so doing, we stop waiting to feel safe before moving, and we start letting the Word define what safety means: that our words, thoughts, and actions are seated in the center of the presence of the Lord.

If this work is helping you heal what’s holding you back and walk in wholeness, you can invest in the mission here.

And do you want to know something I’ve learned over the last few years? Obedience is the antidote to paralysis. It isn’t reckless, but rather, responsive. And the more we obey without demanding guarantees of outcomes from the Lord, the more our hearts are trained to walk by faith, and not by sight. That’s spiritual maturity. You see, the lamp doesn’t flicker because we don’t see far enough. It burns steadily, revealing the step the Lord is asking us to take today.

The Light Appears as You Walk

There’s a popular assumption that this verse teaches progressive revelation: obey the lamp, and the light will come. But that’s not actually what the Hebrew text says. The structure of the verse in its original language doesn’t imply sequence. It’s not “first the lamp, then the light.” Instead, it’s simultaneous, which means that we can’t presume a guaranteed outcome—that God will always reveal the broader path after we take the next step. Sometimes He will. But sometimes He won’t. And we’re not owed that explanation.

But what I love is that the verse does promise presence. His Word is a lamp to your feet, and a light to your path. Both are available, but neither is owed. Neither are substitutes for intimacy with the One who speaks, either. I think it’s safe to say that sometimes, we obey and receive greater clarity. Other times, we obey and get silence. But silence is not the absence of the Lord. That idea is a lie! His apparent silence is just a deeper invitation to trust. And that’s an important word because many of you are in transition right now. 2025 was a challenging year. You felt as though the rug got pulled out from underneath your feet on multiple occasions. And now, you’re more tentative than ever. And worse, you’re calling it “guarding your peace.”

But we have to confront this mindset and tangle up with what the Lord is speaking in this new day. That’s why I want to wrestle with the tension in the Text. Ready?

When It Feels Like God Is Withholding

What do you do when you’ve asked for wisdom and the path still feels dim? James 1:5 says God gives wisdom generously to all who ask. So why does it feel like you’re still in the dark? Well, here’s the hard truth: sometimes the lack of clarity is not divine neglect, but rather, divine mercy, because if He gave you more light, you’d stop listening.

If you’re anything like me, you’d be tempted to run ahead (because who likes surprises?). You’d probably use the insight to craft a plan and remove your need for Him. And so, in love, He dims the lamp, not to confuse you, but to anchor you in Himself.

But it’s also in this exact spot that we must be careful not to project those mindsets or assumptions onto the character of the Lord. Sometimes what feels like silence is actually human neglect. We haven’t stewarded the Word we’ve already received. We’ve ignored the lamp because it didn’t match our preferences. We’ve held the Scriptures loosely while consulting culture, emotion, and consensus more tightly. And then we accuse the Lord of being unclear, or worse, uncaring.

Can I give you some hard truth? He isn’t unclear. We’re often just unwilling.

Beware the False Lamps We Carry

Now, this brings us to the counterfeit. In Isaiah 50:11, God confronts His people with a terrifying indictment. Here’s what the Scripture says: “Behold, all you who kindle a fire, who equip yourselves with burning torches! Walk by the light of your fire, and by the torches you have kindled! This you have from My hand: you shall lie down in torment.”

This is not a metaphor. It is a covenant judgment. And while the verse speaks directly to Israel’s rebellion, the principle carries forward, and it is this: when we refuse to walk by His Word, we will invent our own light. And whatever we invent will eventually consume us.

We light torches of emotional certainty. We craft lamps of cultural affirmation. We walk by the fires of self-justification and baptize them in spiritual language. We elevate preference over truth and call it discernment. We reject surrender and call it wisdom. But Isaiah’s warning is clear: the fire you make apart from Him will not guide you. It will consume you, because artificial light cannot sustain a soul. It burns bright for a moment, then turns to smoke. It offers comfort until it demands control. And by the time you realize it’s counterfeit, you’re already lost in the weeds of your own making.

Jesus is the Word. Jesus is the Light. But Don’t Confuse the Metaphor.

The verse we’ve unpacked from Psalm 119 is ultimately about the Word. And yes, the Word became flesh. Yes, Jesus is the Light of the World (John 8:12). Yes, He is the Logos (John 1:1). But be careful here. Scripture never calls Jesus the lamp. It calls Him the Light and the Word.

So what does that mean for how we read Psalm 119:105? Allow me to help you exegete the Scripture well.

The lamp is the function of the Word—its immediate guidance. The light is the scope of the Word—its moral clarity and divine trajectory. And Jesus, as the living Word, fulfills both. But He also transcends both. He doesn’t just illuminate the path. He is the path. He doesn’t just reveal direction. He walks with you on the way.

So yes, this verse finds its fullest expression in Christ. But let’s not collapse the imagery here. Jesus is not your flashlight, my friend. He is your King. He is not your emotional compass or your emotional support dog. He is your Shepherd. And if we treat Him as a tool for visibility and independence rather than the Lord of our path, we have already lost our way.

The Lamp Is Enough

So, if you are in a season where the future feels dim and the road ahead is unclear, I want you to remember that the lamp is enough, not because it satisfies your desire for certainty but because it sustains your need for faithfulness.

Can I preach to myself for a moment? I don’t need the next ten steps. And neither do you. You don’t need to feel momentum. You don’t need everyone’s affirmation. You simply and honestly need to take the next step that God has already revealed. You need to stay close to the flame. You need to let the Word dictate your pace, not your ambition. Why? Because the promise is not that you will always see far. The promise is that you will never walk alone. And if you have His Word, burning like a lamp before your feet, then you have everything you need to keep moving, one obedient step at a time.

I believe in you.

If this work is helping you heal what’s holding you back and walk in wholeness, you can invest in the mission here.

For more, I invite you to check out my book, Healing What You Can’t Erase, and listen to my weekly podcast, Win Today: Your Roadmap to Wholeness.