WHAT IS ON YOUR BANNER
Every man serves under something — whether he admits it or not.
The image of the banner placed over Jesus — written in mockery, proclaimed in heaven. Pilate meant accusation. God meant declaration. The banner over His head tells you everything about who holds the authority over any banner. Including yours.
If God made the invisible visible for a moment —
not the image you have learned to manage —
but the inscription over your life —
What would it say?
DEDICATION
To Jesus — for carrying a banner I did not deserve.
To the Father — for giving His Son.
To Marty — for the conversation that opened this door and asked the question I could no longer avoid.
To the reader — may this find you in the quiet place where God is already speaking, and may it give language to what He is laying on your heart.
SCRIPTURE
“And they put up over His head the accusation written against Him: THIS IS JESUS THE KING OF THE JEWS.” — Matthew 27:37 (NKJV)
THE HOOK
If God made the invisible visible for a moment —
not your bank account,
not your résumé,
not your reputation,
not the image you have learned to manage —
but the inscription over your life —
what would it say?
Because whether we admit it or not,
every man walks under a banner.
And whatever flies over his life in private
is already shaping him in public.
THE STORY
Banners go back to the earliest civilizations.
Before people could read, a banner meant identity.
Allegiance.
Authority.
It told you who someone belonged to —
and who stood behind them.
Ships carried banners across lawless seas.
The banner was the ship’s voice.
Friend… or threat.
Men did not just wave banners.
They died under them.
And nothing has changed.
We still carry them.
On trucks.
On clothing.
On social media.
In tone.
In posture.
In silence.
The world is skilled at branding identity.
But here is the truth most men avoid:
We polish the external banner
while neglecting the internal one.
I owned businesses most of my adult life.
More than once, I walked into my own shop and heard someone ask,
“Who’s that guy? He acts like he owns the place.”
“He does.”
“That’s the boss.”
I never liked that title.
Because people do not just hear a word.
They attach a story to it.
And we do the same to others.
It is as if we walk around with invisible label makers:
“Angry.”
“Alcoholic.”
“Cheater.”
“Failure.”
“Narcissist.”
Sometimes the label is tied to something real.
Sometimes it is frustration.
Sometimes it is gossip.
But once it sticks,
it becomes a banner.
And if repeated long enough,
a man begins to wear it.
The world does not just observe a struggle.
It brands it.
And sometimes the most loving thing we can do
is refuse to speak someone’s old banner out loud.
THE MOMENT
But the most important banner
is not the one others hang on you.
It is the one you carry in private.
A man may polish his public banner for decades
while his private one quietly rots.
Public scandal is loud.
Private compromise is quieter — and more dangerous.
If you want to know a man’s heart,
ask his wife.
She sees the tired man.
The distracted man.
The irritated man.
The secret man.
The tender man.
She reads the banner when the world is not watching.
Somewhere along the way, I realized something sobering:
If I can do something in front of my wife,
I am probably fine doing it in front of Jesus.
Because He is already there.
THE TURN
Pilate meant mockery.
Heaven meant proclamation.
Jesus did not argue the banner.
Because even when the world assigns identity with the wrong intent,
God still declares truth.
“And Moses built an altar and called its name, The-LORD-Is-My-Banner.” — Exodus 17:15 (NKJV)
Jehovah Nissi.
The LORD is my banner.
Not my title.
Not my failure.
Not my worst season.
His authority over my life
becomes my covering.
And when His authority becomes your covering —
you no longer need to manage the banner others see.
Because the One who hung under the cruelest inscription in history
turned it into the most powerful declaration ever written.
THE DRIFT
There is a voice that keeps a man managing the wrong banner.
Just keep the outside looking right.
Nobody has to know what’s underneath.
You can fix the private stuff later.
That voice sounds like strategy.
It isn’t.
Strategy builds from the inside out.
This voice builds a facade.
There is a kind of reputation management that looks like integrity on the outside —
but is just the private banner rotting behind a polished front.
Maintaining the image.
Protecting the narrative.
Performing the role.
Without ever surrendering the source.
That voice will keep a man divided —
long after the cost of the division has exceeded anything he thought he was protecting.
I know.
Because I lived it.
For years.
THE REFLECTION
There were seasons when my banner read:
In charge.
Capable.
Strong.
From the outside, it looked steady.
Under the floorboards, the house was burning.
I had married out of rescue, not love.
We both came from childhood environments marked by abuse, alcoholism, and sexual misconduct —
banners present long before we stood at an altar.
I believed I could outrun those environments by loving harder and leading stronger.
I mistook familiarity with brokenness for qualification to heal it.
I was not a savior.
I was a man trying to wear a banner that was never mine to carry.
The foundation was cracked from the beginning.
Betrayal followed.
And the death of a child to SIDS shattered whatever illusion of control I still clung to.
Pain did not create the fracture.
It revealed it.
I had built covenant on the need to rescue —
not the humility to surrender.
I confused control with authority.
Ambition with armor.
Conviction with obedience.
Peace did not come when circumstances changed.
It came when alignment did.
Under Christ’s authority, I came home.
Not because life grew easier.
But because the banner settled.
And when your banner is settled —
your soul stops wandering.
WALKAWAY LINE
The banner you carry in private is the banner you are truly serving.
SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT
What banner are you actually living under — and is it the one you say you serve?
MY PRAYER
Heavenly Father,
Expose the banners I am still carrying that were never mine to hold.
The ones built from pride.
From the need to be seen.
From the fear of being known.
I don’t want to manage an image anymore.
I want alignment.
Let Jehovah Nissi be the only inscription over my life that matters.
Let what I carry in private match what I declare in public.
And where those two things still don’t line up —
do the work.
I trust You with what gets uncovered.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
ABOUT G~
G~ writes from lived experience — exploring identity, authority, and time through the lens of faith, trial, leadership, and surrender. His reflections are not meant to condemn or hype, but to steady. Rooted in covenant, forged through adversity, and anchored under the authority of Jesus Christ, his work invites readers to examine who governs their lives — and to live intentionally under truth.
If what you’ve read resonates with your journey, feel free to reach out.
G~
The banner you carry in private is the banner you’re truly serving” - this line is beautiful. The world spends so much energy managing the external one while the private one quietly tells the real story. Beautifully honest, G!
“Pain did not create the fracture, it revealed it.” Leads to livening every day in fear of being exposed in a different light. “The imposter syndrome”. Truth is so freeing, and following Jesus helps us discover our true nature, our Jesus banner. The difficult part can come later, when the world and your private community don’t recognize your changed banners. The labels can stick and create a bit of heartache. That’s where the importance of “living it out” becomes crucial.