Dead Men Don’t Fear

There’s something God keeps pressing into us as a church right now. It’s not complicated, but it’s shaking everything in me. It’s the reminder that dead men don’t fear. Dead men don’t panic, don’t spiral, don’t get offended, don’t live under pressure, and don’t carry the weight of everyone’s opinion. Dead men don’t hold on to shame or replay conversations in their heads for three days. Dead men simply don’t react. Why? Because they’re dead.

This is why Paul’s words in Galatians 2:20 are so life-changing. He wasn’t being dramatic or poetic. He wasn’t trying to give us something inspiring for a mug or a fridge magnet. He was stating spiritual reality: “I have been crucified with Christ.” That’s not a metaphor. Paul meant exactly what he said — the “old you” actually died.

The version of you that reacted to everything… the version that lived on edge… the version that needed to please everybody… the version that kept trying to fix everything in your own strength… the version that carried fear like an oxygen tank… that version didn’t survive the cross. It’s gone.

This is the part we don’t always let sink in. God didn’t take the old you and tidy it up. He didn’t polish you. He didn’t improve you. He didn’t run a repair job. You died. Full stop. And when Christ rose, something entirely new stood up inside you. His life. His peace. His faith. His anointing. His wisdom. His strength. His patience. His authority.

This is what makes fear powerless now. Fear only works when you still think you’re alive in the old sense — when you think you’ve got something to protect. The dead don’t defend themselves. The dead don’t clutch their reputation. The dead don’t get triggered when someone misunderstands them. The dead don’t live from emotion; they live from resurrection.

And when you understand that, the pressure lifts. Your shoulders drop. Your breathing changes. Life becomes less about surviving and more about living from the One who now fills you.

This is why presence matters so much to me right now. You can feel the shift in worship. When His presence settles, the noise of your soul quietens. The atmosphere around you goes from frantic to focused. Suddenly, the internal battles you dragged into the room don’t feel like the whole story anymore. Everything simplifies. Christ becomes big again. The anointing becomes real again. Your identity becomes clear again.

And here’s the beautiful thing: when someone pushes your buttons, they aren’t even pushing your buttons. When Paul was on the road to Damascus, Jesus didn’t say, “Why do you persecute My people?” He said, “Why do you persecute Me?” Christ takes it personally when anything comes against the people He lives inside. So when pressure comes… when criticism comes… when circumstances feel unfair… Jesus stands between you and the blow long before you ever feel it.

This is the confidence resurrection gives you. You’re not living alone. You’re not carrying your house alone. You’re not fighting battles alone. You’re not raising your kids alone. The One who conquered death is living His life through your body, your mind, your words, your decisions. You’re not trying to produce strength — you’re letting His strength flow.

And here’s the part that keeps burning in me: He didn’t save you to hide you. He saved you to raise you. To build you. To build your family. To build a church that actually carries weight. To build something generational, where your kids and the kids after them grow up knowing the presence of God instead of the pressure of the world.

So I want to encourage you this week — in your car, your kitchen, your workplace, wherever you find yourself — let this truth become your inner anchor:
“I’m dead. But Christ lives in me.”

You’ll find your emotions calming quicker.
You’ll think clearer.
Wisdom will surface.
Fear will lose its grip.
And you’ll walk with a quiet boldness that can only come from resurrection life.

You weren’t saved to survive. You were raised to reign. And resurrected people walk differently.

Walk like it.

✍️ Andy