Baby, be a David — not the slingshot version, the psalm-writing, sheep-watching, trust-when-no-one-is-looking version.
Because giants will always shout. That’s their job. Noise, fear, hurry, pressure — all stomping around like they own the valley.
But David didn’t walk in loud. He walked in anchored.
Not because he believed in himself.
Because he believed in God.
So pray it up — not as panic, but as posture.
Step forward — not because you feel ready, but because you are held.
Sing loud songs — not to prove strength, but to remember Who fights for you.
Grace is deeper than the valley. Truth is steadier than the mountain. Joy is louder than the giant — even when it whispers instead of roars.
Grab your stone and hold it tight. Trust isn’t loud armor; sometimes it’s quiet obedience, one faithful step at a time.
Walk the narrow path together. Down, through, up — until we get home where the King is already dancing and the victory is already decided.
Jesus loves you perfectly.
Now live like you trust it.
