Holy Ground, not currency
Expecting God to move (without trying to control him)
Yesterday, my wife brought up a phrase that often surfaces in charismatic spaces. “Expecting God to move.”
My first response was simple: we can expect God to move—because God is not dead. The God of Scripture is living, active, and present among His people. Expectancy, in that sense, is neither naive nor manipulative. It is faith.
But the conversation did not stop there, because the real issue is not whether we expect God to move.
It is what we mean by that expectation—and how often we feel the need to say it out loud.
There is a difference between expecting God to move and expecting God to move according to our preference, timelines, or emotional momentum. That difference matters—especially in charismatic culture.
Expectancy is biblical. Presumption is not.
In Scripture, God is never portrayed as passive. He speaks, acts, interrupts, redeems, and resurrects. From Genesis to Pentecost, God moves first. That is foundational Pentecostal theology.
But Scripture also never trains us to summon God.
Faith is not leverage.
Prayer is not a mechanism.
Expectation is not control.
When expectation shifts from trusting God’s character to demanding a specific outcome, we have crossed from faith into presumption. And Presumption often wears the language of spirituality while quietly centering self-will.
Why do charismatic churches emphasize expectation so much?
This was the heart of my wife’s question—and it is a fair one.
Charismatic churches emphasize expectancy because they are pushing back against a dead, distant, or purely intellectual view of God. That instinct is right. The spirit is present. God still heals. God still speaks. God still acts.
But repetition reveals formation.
When “expect God to move” becomes something we must constantly hype, reinforce, or emotionally manufacture, it can unintentionally reveal insecurity. If God’s movement depends on our atmosphere, our volume, or our intensity, then we have placed ourselves closer to the center than we should.
Biblical expectancy does not need to be constantly announced. It is assumed.
The early church did not gather, wondering if God might show up. They gathered because He already had.
Symbols, Signs, and the temptation to control God
I appreciate the way Beautiful Eulogy—a poetically infused powerhouse of a musical group—addresses this tension in their song “Symbols and Signs.” They speak of signs not as trophies to collect, but as witnesses that point beyond themselves. Scripture never treats signs as currency. They are not proof that God is on our side; they are reminders that we are standing on holy ground.
Now, this may sound cessationist to some, and I want to be clear that it is not. I believe God still moves, still heals, still performs signs and wonders. Nor is this meant as an attack on any particular view regarding miracles. But I do believe we have become a people who relentlessly pursue signs while giving far less attention to the holiness of the God who gives them.
When signs become the focus, holiness becomes optional.
And when holiness becomes optional, signs lose their purpose.
The problem is not believing God still moves.
The problem is when we start treating signs like leverage.
Enough faith.
Enough prayer.
Enough volume.
Enough expectation.
That is not expectancy—that is control disguised as worship.
Biblically, signs follow obedience; they do not replace it. Wonders accompany faithfulness; they do not validate ego. When signs become the focus, God becomes the means. And that is how we end up chasing the spectacular while neglecting the sacred.
God is not impressed by our expectations.
He is honored by our surrender.
If God never does another dramatic thing in my lifetime, He is still worthy. Salvation still stands. The Spirit still sanctifies. The Cross is still enough. The resurrection is still the center. Anything else is grace—but it is not the foundation.
Faith doesn’t demand signs.
Faith recognizes them when they appear—and keeps walking when they don’t.
What Scripture actually tells us to expect
The New Testament is remarkably clear about our greatest expectation:
“Rejoice that your names are written in heaven” (Luke 10:20)
“We wait eagerly for adoption… the redemption of our bodies” (Romans 8:23)
“Our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior” (Philippians 3:20)
The greatest triumph promised to the believer is not constant breakthrough—it is salvation. To walk with the Lord. To be conformed to Christ. To endure in hope.
Pentecostal faith does not lower expectations.
It reorders it.
Healing matters. Deliverance matters. Provision matters. But none of them outrank reconciliation with God or formation into Christlikeness. If our expectation is always external, we will miss the internal work God is far more committed to completing.
Expectation without manipulation
Faith says: God will move.
Maturity says: God will move as He wills.
The cross reminds us of this tension. God moved decisively—but not in the way anyone expected. Resurrection came, but only through suffering first.
Christian expectancy learns ot pray with open hands: “Your kingdom come, your will be done.” Not because we doubt God’s power—but because we trust His wisdom.
We don’t need to convince God to be active.
We need to be faithful where He already is.
Faith expects God to move.
Wisdom trusts Him to decide how—and waits without trying to force the moment.
