Convictions stay consistent when they’re real

Convictions will stay consistent—if they’re real.

They do not wither beneath the sun,

nor bend beneath the weight of wind.

They are not born of mood, nor crafted by crowd. They are etched in the soul

like commandments on stone—

by the finger of God Himself.

True conviction is not a passing flame,

but an eternal ember,

glowing beneath the ash of trial,

burning silently through the midnight of doubt.

It does not barter with fear.

It does not flinch at the roar of lions.

It does not change clothes

to blend in with every season.

Real conviction speaks when silence is safer.

It stands when the earth shakes.

It bleeds, but does not betray.

It weeps, but does not recant.

Because it is rooted in something

beyond the flesh—

something deeper than understanding,

anchored in eternity.

Conviction whispers in the prison cell,

“I will not bow.”

It sings in the fire,

“My God is able.”

It walks to the altar with trembling hands

and still lays everything down.

When convictions are real,

they are not sustained by willpower or feelings,

but by the Spirit.

They are kept alive

not by comfort,

but by a call too holy to ignore.

So let your conviction be like Him:

steadfast, humble, unshaken.

Let it resurrect in every failure,

rise in every silence,

speak in every storm.

And if the world asks you to change,

to accommodate,

to compromise—

May your answer

be this:

“I cannot.

This truth is not mine to edit.

It was written on me

by the hand of the Living God.”

And when you feel weary—

when the cost cuts deep

and the path feels lonely—

remember this:

A conviction that endures

will one day rise in glory,

clothed not in shame,

but in splendor,

because it proved

faithful.

Real.

Eternal.