You took a stand for your faith. Maybe it happened at work—you wouldn't laugh at a joke that mocked Jesus. Or with friends—you shared what you actually believe, knowing they believe differently. Maybe it was closer than that: family members who saw you living differently, speaking differently, thinking differently because of Christ.
And then everything shifted. The warmth cooled. Conversations ended. People you cared about became distant, or worse, openly hostile.
You've replayed it a hundred times since. Was I too harsh? Too judgmental? Too much like one of those Christians they've already written off? You wonder if it was worth it—the friendship lost, the tension, the silence where there used to be easy connection. Part of you wants to just stay quiet next time. Blend in. Keep the peace.
Here's what I want to tell you: you're not the first person to feel this way. Jesus knew this would happen to His followers. And the night before everything fell apart, He told them something that, on the surface, sounds like the worst promise He could possibly make.
Open your Bible to John 15:18-19. This is what Jesus tells His disciples:
If the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you. Because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you.
Let those words settle. He's not saying "might hate you" or "sometimes hates you if you're not careful." The world will hate you. That's not conditional. That's not maybe. That's a promise, wrapped in hard truth.
Picture yourself in that room with the disciples when He says this. Just moments before, Jesus said, "Ye are my friends" (John 15:14). That hit them deeply—friendship with Christ, belonging to Him, security in that bond. Then He turns and says, "And the world's going to hate you for it." It's like being invited to a wedding and then being told everyone at the reception is going to be hostile to you.
Why lead with that? Because Jesus wasn't trying to make them feel better. He was preparing them for what's actually coming—not as a possibility, but as an inevitability. When you speak His name, when you live differently because of Him, when your choices and convictions reveal that you belong to God instead of the world, there will be people who hate you for it. Not people who disagree with you or misunderstand you. People who actively hate you.
And here's the thing: that's not a sign you're failing. It's proof you're actually following Him.
Think about what happens when you don't. If you're around people who live for the world—if you laugh at what they laugh at, speak the way they speak, want what they want—they don't notice anything different. They just think, "He's one of us." That's not costly discipleship. That's just fitting in. But Jesus didn't call you to fit in. His last words before ascending into heaven were that you would be His witnesses. And you witness not by being diplomatic or staying silent, but by living for Him, by doing what He calls you to do, by saying what He calls you to say. By being visibly, undeniably different.
If the world isn't pushing back, you might not be abiding in the vine at all. That pushback? That hostility? It's actually confirmation that you're connected to Christ and it's showing.
But Jesus doesn't leave you standing in that hostility alone. Look at what He promises in John 15:26-27:
But when the Comforter is come, whom I will send unto you from the Father, even the Spirit of truth which proceedeth from the Father, he shall testify of me: and ye also shall bear witness because ye have been with me from the beginning.
The Holy Spirit is coming. Not just as comfort—though He comforts—but as testimony. As empowerment. He doesn't leave you defenseless in the hostility. He actually joins you in it.
Fast forward to Acts 6. Stephen is one of seven men chosen to help with practical needs in the church—feeding widows, handling logistics. But Stephen is more than just administratively faithful. The Bible says he was "full of faith and of the Holy Ghost," and God works great wonders and miracles through him. As he does, he attracts opposition. People come to argue with him, trying to shut him down. But notice what happens: "They were not able to resist the wisdom and the spirit by which he spake" (Acts 6:10).
Every time they tried to argue, the Holy Spirit showed up with Stephen. The wisdom wasn't Stephen's natural gift—it was the Spirit's active presence. They couldn't counter it. They couldn't win the argument. That frustrated them. It made them angry. So instead of accepting his witness, they did what hostile people often do: they started a disinformation campaign. They brought false witnesses. They dragged him before the Sanhedrin Council—the most powerful religious authority in Jerusalem.
You'd think facing that kind of power, Stephen would back down. Scale back his testimony. Play it safer.
He did the opposite. He got bolder. Standing before the Council, he called them out: "Ye stiffnecked and uncircumcised in your heart and ears, ye always resist the Holy Ghost as your fathers did, so do ye" (Acts 7:51). He pointed his finger at them spiritually and said they were resisting God. Most of us would flee at that point. Stephen doubled down.
Because he wasn't relying on his own courage. He was relying on the Holy Spirit's power flowing through him.
When you feel that fear—when the words catch in your throat and you think, "I should just stay quiet"—remember that you're not witnessing alone. The same Holy Spirit who raised Christ from the dead indwells you. He gives you words. He gives you wisdom that doesn't come from your own preparation or eloquence. He defends through you. Your job isn't to win the argument or convince everyone. Your job is to speak truth. The Holy Spirit does the work.
But Stephen's story doesn't end with boldness in the Council. It ends with stones.
When the Council heard his witness, they were enraged. Acts 7:54 says they "gnashed on him with their teeth"—a physical expression of fury. They dragged him outside the city walls and began stoning him. In that moment, he was abandoned, wounded, dying for simply speaking the truth about Jesus.
By the world's measure? A waste. A young man with his whole life ahead of him, cut down. He could have done things for science, for society, for anything. Instead, he was murdered for being a faithful witness.
But here's what most people miss: Acts 7:58 mentions that "witnesses laid down their clothes at a young man's feet whose name was Saul."
Saul watched Stephen die. He watched a man face hostility, opposition, stones—and remain faithful all the way through. While Stephen was being murdered, he experienced a vision: "he, being full of the Holy Ghost, looked up steadfastly into heaven, and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right hand of God" (Acts 7:55). In his final moments, he wasn't afraid. He wasn't regretful. He said, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit" (Acts 7:59).
Stephen died that day. But Saul? Saul became Paul. The same man who watched that faithful witness became the Apostle Paul—the one who would plant churches, write half the New Testament, and carry the gospel to the entire Gentile world. One life of faithful witness under deadly opposition changed the trajectory of church history.
Stephen never knew it. He died without seeing that fruit. But God used it anyway—magnificently, eternally.
Your witness is never wasted. Not your time. Not your words. Not your relationships. You may sow seed after seed and see rejection after rejection and never witness a single person come to Christ. But God multiplies what you do. He uses your faithfulness in ways you can't predict and may never know. And if He's ever going to show you—if you ever get to heaven and see the ripple effects of your witness—you'll understand that it mattered infinitely more than you realized.
Here's something that weighs on my heart as a pastor: we're in a drought of souls. I can't remember the last time I stood up here and announced that someone received Christ and we're baptizing them. That troubles me. Because it means, either collectively or individually, we're holding back.
But I don't believe God's holding back His power. He's given us His Spirit. He's equipped us. He's promised that His comforter will testify of Jesus and empower our witness. The silence isn't coming from heaven. It's coming from us. And most of the time, it's because we're afraid.
I understand that fear. When I'm out in the community in regular clothes—just a ball cap and work clothes, not anything that marks me as a pastor—people are warm. Then I mention what I do, and I watch the temperature drop. The smile becomes polite. The friendliness cools. That stings. It's lonely.
But here's what I've come to understand: God has placed you in circles of influence that are uniquely yours. He's given you neighbors, coworkers, friends, family members that I will never know. You have access to people and relationships that I don't. And one day, you're going to stand before God, and He's going to ask: "What did you do with what I gave you? Did you hide? Or did you speak?"
You won't answer for my witness. I won't answer for yours. We each answer for our own. That's not meant to load you with shame. It's meant to clarify something: your witness matters. Your voice matters. Not because you're eloquent or perfectly prepared or have all the answers. Stephen was filled with the Holy Ghost and they still got angry at him. Your witness matters because you're connected to the vine, and the Holy Spirit flows through you.
The cost is real. You'll face hostility. You'll face opposition. You'll face people who reject you. But here's the actual promise: I will send you My Spirit. He will testify of Me. And you will be witnesses—not because you're brave enough, but because He is powerful enough.
So the question becomes simple: will you speak?
Think about what it looks like for you to abide in the vine and seek to bear witness in a world that doesn't want to hear it. What steps of faith is God calling you to take? What does obedience look like in your specific situation, your specific relationships, with the specific people around you?
And here's something more practical: bring one person to mind. Someone in your circle who you care about, someone you know well, but someone you're afraid to talk to about Jesus. What's the fear? Get specific. Is it rejection? Awkwardness? Fear you'll say the wrong thing? Write it down if you need to.
Then ask yourself a harder question: Is that fear bigger than the Holy Spirit? Is it bigger than the power that raised Christ from the dead? You know the answer. So what's the first step?
If you're facing opposition for your faith right now, if you're wrestling with the cost of following Jesus in a hostile world, you're not walking alone. My book, Standing in the Dark: What to Do When You Can't See the Way Forward, explores what it means to trust God when everything feels uncertain and hostile. You'll find solid ground even when the world pushes back.
Get Standing in the Dark on Amazon