Ryan's Ramblings

“My soul yearns for you in the night; in the morning my spirit longs for you. When your judgments come upon the earth, the people of the world learn righteousness.”
 — Isaiah 26:9, NIV

I still remember the day I found gold.

I was out with my uncle doing some exploring — hunting fossils, turning stones, doing what boys do in the summer sun. And then I saw it, gleaming in the light — a solid chunk of gold. I snatched it up, slipped it into my pocket, and hurried toward my uncle. My imagination was already racing. We were rich. Dad wouldn’t have to work anymore. I could get a new bike. And candy? Endless.

When I finally showed my uncle my treasure, he smiled — the kind smile of someone who has seen this before — and gently said, “Sorry, that’s pyrite. Fool’s gold.”

My illusions of grandeur collapsed. It looked real. It shone like the real thing. I was certain it was true. But it wasn’t.

Sooner or later, what is false is revealed.

We are living in an age of exposure. Preachers fall. Leaders are unmasked. Hidden things surface. Files opened. Illusions collapse. For some, it is disorienting. For others, it is confirming. For many, it is simply exhausting.

But notice what Isaiah does not say. He does not say, “When scandals break, the people learn cynicism.” He does not say, “When leaders fall, faith collapses.” He says, 

“When Your judgments come… righteousness is learned.”

In Scripture, judgment is not God losing His temper. It is God setting things right. It is light entering shadow. It is truth refusing to remain buried.

God is not threatened by fraud. Truth does not panic when imitation is revealed. Gold is not nervous when fool’s gold flakes.

When exposure comes, it feels like night. Disillusionment carries a darkness of its own. But Isaiah links night with yearning: “My soul yearns for you in the night…”

Sometimes the collapse of illusion clarifies the object of our longing. When platforms crack, foundations are tested. When charisma fades, character matters again. When performance disappoints, prayer regains its quiet strength.

I recently spoke with a friend who had been personally affected by a prophetic ministry that later came under scrutiny. The exposure was jarring — disorienting for a moment. But what proved stronger was this: long before anything became public, God had already been whispering to him and his wife — through Scripture, through what he described as a quiet “check” in their spirits, and through the steady wisdom of godly counsel. Over time, a growing assurance formed that this was not the final word. When the truth about the ministry surfaced, it startled my friends for a moment, but it did not undo God’s faithfulness.

Because the Kingdom is not built on personalities. It is built on a crucified and risen Christ. And Christ does not fall. Exposure, painful as it can be, is not the end of the story. Sometimes it protects the vulnerable. Sometimes it awakens the naive. Sometimes it purifies the church’s appetite. 

And sometimes — quietly — it drives us back to the only One who cannot be shaken.

Night comes. But morning clarifies. When God lets the light in, it is not to undo us. It is to steady us again on what cannot be shaken — to what is genuine, what is tested, what endures — not a preacher, not a leader, not a movement, not a moment.

But Jesus.