The Year We Refuse to Settle: Break the Cycle!

Some destruction is loud. It announces itself. You see it coming. You feel the impact immediately.

But other destruction is quiet. Slow. Hidden beneath the surface!

Before oil, coal fueled the American economy. It heated homes, powered factories, and ran railroads that moved the nation forward. Because of coal, towns didn’t grow slowly. They appeared almost overnight. Across Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and Kentucky, coal towns covered the map. These weren’t vacation towns or destinations. They were working towns, built for one purpose.

Coal was not easy or safe to extract. Men dug deep into the earth, cutting through rock, reinforcing tunnels by hand, working long hours in darkness, dust, and constant danger just to bring fuel to the surface. For many families, it became a way of life, passed down from one generation to the next.

One of those towns was Centralia, Pennsylvania.

At its peak, over 1,400 people lived there. It had churches, a school, and neighborhoods where parents fully expected their children to grow up and stay. But in 1962, a fire started in an abandoned coal mine beneath the town.

At first, no one panicked. You couldn’t see it. Life continued. Work went on as usual. Within months, experts made an announcement that shocked everyone. They said the fire would not go out. They warned that the ground would become unstable, that poisonous gases would rise through cracks, and that roads, homes, schools, and churches would eventually become unsafe.

When the government ordered residents to leave, some did. Most refused.

They understood the danger, but leaving felt harder than staying. Staying was familiar.

Within twenty years, the ground began to crack. Poisonous gas filled basements. Highways collapsed. Centralia slowly disappeared. Today, it is almost completely abandoned. The fire has been burning for more than sixty years and is expected to continue for another two hundred.

Centralia didn’t collapse overnight. It settled into destruction.

That’s the danger many people miss. Destruction does not always begin with rebellion. Often it starts with hesitation. Sometimes the greatest threat isn’t what’s in front of you. It’s what’s underneath you.

God’s warnings are not threats. They are mercy. And there comes a moment in the life of faith when God stops explaining and starts commanding movement.

After the death of Moses, God speaks to Joshua with no warm-up and no ceremony. “Moses my servant is dead. Now therefore arise.” Forty years of leadership had ended. Moses had confronted Pharaoh, led Israel through the Red Sea, received the Law, and carried a nation through the wilderness. And now he was gone, buried by God Himself in an unknown place.

It was around 1406 BC. Nearly two million people stood on the edge of the Jordan River. They were a nation without a home, positioned directly in front of a promise.

From a human perspective, everything looked wrong. The river was wide. The cities were fortified. The giants were still there. It felt like they needed more time. But God had positioned them exactly where they needed to be. They were not lost, delayed, or confused.

They were standing at the edge of obedience.

Forty years earlier, another generation stood in that same place. They believed the land was good, but they refused to move. Only Joshua and Caleb trusted God. Everyone else died in the wilderness.

This time would be different. There would be no vote, no delay, and no settling between Egypt and the promise. God wasn’t repeating the last forty years. He stated the facts and commanded movement.

“Now therefore arise.”

Honoring yesterday can quietly become disobedience today. Yesterday feels safe. Yesterday is familiar. Yesterday already worked. But there comes a moment when memory must give way to obedience. God didn’t tell them to take their time or wait until it felt right. He commanded them to move.

Courage was commanded because fear was expected.

Joshua was not fearless. He was leading millions of people into fortified cities against trained armies. Fear was real, but fear didn’t get a vote. God never tells His people to wait until fear leaves. He tells them to obey in the middle of it.

God’s promises don’t activate through agreement. They activate through movement. An entire generation died knowing the promise but never stepping into it. They believed, talked, and sang about the land, but they never moved.

The land was given. Possession was not automatic.

The same God who moved Israel forward is leading His church today. He is not asking for perfection or fearlessness. He is calling for faithfulness.

The question is not whether we agree with God... The question is whether we will move with Him!