Even now, the ancient Serpent subtly seduces us to rely on self: “You’ve got this. You can handle it on your own. God helps those who help themselves.” Drown out his deception by loudly proclaiming the truth. We don’t have this, but he’s got us.

My worn Bible lay open before me. I had that look of pained reflection that often attends my guided prayer times. Hoping for fresh insight, I reread Psalm 33:16–17 slowly and prayerfully: “The king is not saved by his great army; a warrior is not delivered by his great strength. The war horse is a false hope for salvation, and by its great might it cannot rescue.” My devotional exercise asked, “What do you look to for your deliverance?” Essentially, in what are you placing false hope for salvation?

While I don’t trust in standing armies or military might for deliverance, I still felt the implied rebuke. I was drawn inexorably to a simple conclusion: I’m my own war horse.

I trust in myself. I trust I can handle what comes my way in my flesh’s strength. I trust I can carry out my God-given responsibilities on my own. I can prepare an adequate sermon because of my theological training. I can structure a discipleship ministry because of my experience. I can raise my children based on the books I’ve read. I trust in the earthen vessel, not the treasure within.

I’m my own war horse. God help me. What hope do I have if I depend on myself?

Haunted by this question, I stumbled on Isaiah 22:8–14 in my Bible-reading plan and renewed my zeal to root out the subtle sin of self-reliance from my prone-to-wander heart.

Hezekiah’s Self-Reliance

In Isaiah 22, God orchestrates a test for good king Hezekiah, his advisers, and the whole nation. Isaiah says it clearly: The Lord “stripped away the defenses of Judah” (v. 8, NIV). So how will Judah respond? Will the people look to God in faith, or to themselves?

In action flicks, when super soldiers or spectacular spies are cornered, they look around for whatever resources are at hand to use as a weapon. They’re confident that with the right tool, they can save themselves. Hezekiah’s eyes betray the same confidence. He “looked . . . to the weapons in the Palace of the Forest,” and then he “saw that the walls of the City of David” were in a state of sad disrepair (vv. 8–9, emphasis added).

Eyes are a window to the soul. In Hezekiah’s gaze, we see a soul that leans on self. As Alec Motyer writes, “Why bother with faith when you have walls, water and weapons? Why look to God when you can look to your own resources?”

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