Living in the Victory: When Ancient Prophecy Meets Modern Purpose

The book of Daniel takes a dramatic turn in chapter seven. Gone are the familiar court tales of lions' dens and fiery furnaces. Instead, we enter the strange and often unsettling world of apocalyptic vision—beasts rising from the sea, horns with eyes, thrones of fire, and cosmic battles between kingdoms.

For many of us, this is where we check out. The imagery feels too foreign, too confusing, too disconnected from our daily lives. We're tempted to skip ahead to more "practical" passages. But what if these visions contain one of the most liberating truths we could ever encounter?

Understanding the Vision

Daniel's seventh chapter records a vivid dream: four terrifying beasts emerge from a churning sea, each representing successive kingdoms that would dominate the earth. A lion with eagle's wings. A lopsided bear with ribs in its mouth. A leopard with four wings and four heads. And finally, a fourth beast—so terrifying and different from the others that Daniel struggles to even describe it, with iron teeth and ten horns.

These aren't random monsters from an overactive imagination. They represent something deeply real: the pattern of human empire throughout history. From Babylon to Medo-Persia to Greece to Rome, Daniel sees the recurring cycle of earthly kingdoms that devour, conquer, and oppress.

But then the vision shifts dramatically.

Suddenly, Daniel finds himself in a throne room. The "Ancient of Days"—God Himself—sits in judgment. Books are opened. The beasts are destroyed. And then, approaching with the clouds of heaven, comes "one like a son of man." To this figure is given an eternal kingdom that will never pass away.

The Kingdom That Changes Everything

This phrase—"son of man"—wasn't lost on those who first heard this prophecy. Jewish scholars before Christ understood this as a messianic prophecy, a promise of a coming deliverer who would establish God's eternal kingdom.

And then Jesus arrived.

Throughout the Gospels, Jesus refers to himself as the "Son of Man" fifty-one times—more than any other title. He was making an unmistakable connection: "I am the fulfillment of Daniel's vision. I am the one who will reign eternally. The kingdom of God has come."

What Daniel saw in that throne room was the ultimate victory of Jesus Christ over every force of evil, every oppressive empire, every power that sets itself against God and His people.

The Question That Changes Us

Here's where ancient prophecy collides with modern life: Which kingdom are we serving?

There are only two kingdoms in view—the eternal kingdom of God, secured by Christ's victory, and the temporary kingdoms of this world that promise much but ultimately devour those who serve them.

We might quickly answer, "Obviously, I'm serving God's kingdom!" But the question deserves deeper reflection.

Notice something crucial in Daniel's vision: when the final victory comes, what role do God's people play in conquering evil? They receive the kingdom as a gift. They watch and worship as God defeats the forces of darkness. At no point do they bear the responsibility for achieving victory.

This reveals a profound truth: **we find our purpose anchored in the victory of Jesus Christ, not in our own striving.**

Abiding vs. Striving

The critical question becomes: Are we abiding or are we striving?

Abiding means resting in what Christ has already accomplished, living obediently within the scope of what God has called us to control, trusting Him with everything else.

Striving means attempting to expand our control beyond what God intended, trying to do His job for Him, manipulating outcomes to match our vision rather than His.

This distinction might seem subtle, but it's the difference between freedom and bondage.

Think back to the Garden of Eden. Satan's temptation wasn't blatantly evil—it was an invitation to strive. "Did God really say you can't eat that? If you eat it, you'll be like God, knowing good and evil." The promise was more control, more knowledge, more power. And humanity has been striving ever since.

When we try to expand the scope of our control beyond what God has given us, we will always end up in idolatry and disobedience.

What Can We Actually Control?

So what is within our scope of control?

We can control our relationship with God—whether we spend time in His Word, whether we pray, whether we cultivate hearts of worship and obedience. We can control how we treat others, whether we love them or manipulate them. We can control our motives and examine why we do what we do.

Here's what we cannot control: other people's hearts, the future, outcomes, other people's transformation.

Yet how much energy do we pour into trying to control exactly these things?

Consider parenting. Do we spend more time talking to our children about their grades and sports than about their souls? Why? Because we want their future to turn out a certain way. We're trying to build a certain kind of empire for them, to secure outcomes we think are best.

But what if our calling is simply to love them, point them to Jesus, and trust God with their future?

Or consider our careers. Are we being obedient in the work before us today, acknowledging God's sovereignty over tomorrow? Or are we scheming, manipulating, cutting corners, and compromising our integrity to force the future we want?

The book of James addresses this directly: "You don't even know what tomorrow will bring... Instead you ought to say, 'If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.'" It's not about avoiding planning—it's about acknowledging who is truly sovereign.

The Freedom of Letting Go

Here's the beautiful paradox: abiding is simultaneously harder and easier than striving.

It's harder because it requires trust. It means confronting the reality that we will suffer, that things won't always go as we want, that we actually control very little. It means letting go of our illusion of sovereignty.

But it's easier because all the pressure to save ourselves is removed. We're not responsible for transforming hearts—God is. We're not responsible for securing the victory—Christ already has. We're not responsible for building the eternal kingdom—Jesus reigns.

There is profound freedom, hope, and joy in abiding.

When we abide, we discover that God's purposes unfold in ways far better than we could orchestrate. We find that the Holy Spirit empowers us to love, seek, and obey God in ways that actually matter. We experience transformation not through our striving but through His grace.

A Daily Diagnostic

Perhaps the most practical question we can ask ourselves daily is this: **Where am I trying to do God's job?**

Where am I attempting to control what only He can control? Where am I manipulating instead of trusting? Where am I striving instead of abiding?

When we identify these areas, we're invited to repent—to turn away from our attempts at self-salvation and return to the God who has already secured our victory.

We're invited to replace control with prayer, striving with patience, anxiety with worship.

Living in the Victory

Daniel's vision ends with an eternal kingdom established forever. For us living on this side of the cross, we know that kingdom has already been inaugurated through Jesus Christ. We're not waiting for the victory—we're living in it.

The invitation is to align our daily lives with this reality. To serve the kingdom that has already won rather than building empires that will crumble. To abide in Christ rather than strive for control we were never meant to have.

Yes, evil still exists. Suffering is real. The world is broken. But we serve a King whose dominion is everlasting, whose kingdom cannot be shaken, and who has invited us not to earn our place but to receive it as beloved children.

The question remains: Which kingdom are we serving today?