When Faith Finds You

by David Rush | Jul 5, 2025 | Daily Light

When Faith Finds You

🎧 Listen to the Devotional

Click the play button to hear an audio reading of this week’s devotional: “When Faith Finds You.”

When Faith Finds You

Key Verse:
“Without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.”
— Hebrews 11:6

We hear the word faith a lot.
In church, in songs, on coffee mugs.
But what does it really mean?

Is it just hoping things get better? Is it believing harder? Trying to stay positive when life feels anything but?

No. It’s deeper than that. It’s more personal.

Faith is not about trying harder.
It’s about hearing God’s voice—and responding.

Faith isn’t a feeling.
It’s not something we manufacture on our own.
It’s something that rises up in us when we finally see Him for who He is.

That may happen in a moment of desperation.
Or in the middle of a song. Or a memory. Or someone else’s story.

It could be a grandmother’s prayer whispered over a child’s crib.
A friend’s late-night testimony of how God pulled them out of the dark.
A sermon that unexpectedly stirs your heart.
A moment when Scripture feels like it was written just for you.
Or even a stranger sharing something they didn’t know you needed to hear.

That’s how faith often comes—by hearing.
And the One speaking is God Himself.

It’s always been that way. From the very beginning.

Adam and Eve knew God. They walked with Him, talked with Him. They passed on what they knew.

Their children—and their children’s children—carried that spark of knowing.

Abel brought a faithful offering.
Enoch walked so closely with God that he never died.
Noah trusted God when the no one else would.
And from Noah came Abraham—who believed God’s promise, even when everything around him said it was impossible.

These weren’t perfect people.
But they heard God.
And they trusted Him.
Faith was born.

That same thread of faith still runs through history—through people like you and me. Through those who have walked with Him. Through those who have hurt and hoped and prayed and wondered.

We don’t start from scratch.
We’re part of a story that began long before us.

And now, you’re here.
Reading these words. Maybe remembering something. Maybe feeling something rise inside you.

Could it be… that He’s speaking to you, too?

You don’t have to clean yourself up first.
You don’t have to fix your life or pretend you’re okay.
You don’t even have to understand everything.

You just have to listen.
Because He’s already near.
He’s already reaching.

You don’t have to go searching for Him across some spiritual landscape—
He’s the one who comes after you.

Jesus said He would leave the ninety-nine to go find the one.
He’s still doing that.
And maybe today, you’re the one.

“Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
— Matthew 11:28

“Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.”
— James 4:8

Faith begins when we hear Him—and we say yes.

Maybe today… you just heard Him.

A Prayer for Today

Lord, I don’t want to keep running or hiding.
I believe You are who You say You are.
I believe You’re calling me to something deeper.
Help me hear Your voice.
Help me trust You.
Let my life become a part of the story You’re telling—one that draws others to You, too.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

July 4th, 1776 – The Day They Signed Their Death Warrants

by Ryan Rush | Jul 4, 2025 | Dispatches, Historical Perspective, The Outlaw Faith, The Outlaw Files

📜 July 4th, 1776 – The Day They Signed Their Death Warrants

Imagine it is the morning of July 4th, 1776.

Inside the Pennsylvania State House, the dawn light pushes through tall windows, catching the drifting dust of restless nights. The room smells of sweat, wax, ink — and history not yet made.

Yesterday, they decided. Today, they commit.

One by one, the delegates gather around the table where the Declaration of Independence lies spread. Its fresh ink still shines in places where Thomas Jefferson’s careful pen gave voice to a dangerous idea: that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights…

Each man knows the cost.

In the corner, John Hancock — the President of Congress — stands ready. He adjusts his coat. It’s said he looks the King of England in the eye — at least in his mind — when he bends to sign first. He draws his name large and bold, declaring to the Crown across the sea: You will see my name without spectacles.

Behind him, men shuffle forward. Some stand silent. Some whisper final prayers. They know they are signing not just a statement — but a sentence. If they fail, they hang. If they win, they still risk ruin.

A Pledge of Everything

Benjamin Franklin, old enough to be many delegates’ father, leans on his cane and quips:

“We must all hang together, or, most assuredly, we shall all hang separately.”

A thin laugh. A nod. Then the next man steps up.

Thomas Nelson Jr., a wealthy Virginian, knows that British cannon will aim for his grand house first — it’s the biggest in town. He signs anyway. Later, legend says he tells General Washington to open fire on it if needed to drive the British out.

Carter Braxton, another Virginia planter, signs though he knows his ships — his fortune — are ripe for seizure by the British navy.

Francis Lewis of New York signs. Soon after, British troops will destroy his home and capture his wife. She dies from the abuse she suffers in captivity.

These men do not sign in ignorance. They sign with eyes open. They pledge:

“Our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.”

To many of them, that line is not poetic — it’s prophetic. They know they could lose their lives, their lands, their families, their futures. But they also know they will not lose their honor — because for them, that word means more than wealth or breath.

After the Ink

When the last quill lifts from the parchment, silence settles over the chamber.

Outside, a few curious onlookers gather. Rumors swirl through Philadelphia’s streets: the colonies have declared independence.

Inside, the men exchange weary nods, some embrace, others simply sit back in stunned quiet. It is done.

Tomorrow, the King’s men will call them traitors. But today, they have made themselves something else entirely: founders. Patriots. Rebels before the world’s strongest empire — trusting Providence more than Parliament.

A Note for Us

Today, when we read those famous words — “We hold these truths to be self-evident…” — we read them in fireworks, cookouts, parades, and freedom’s ease.

But for them, that truth was signed in risk.

Honor was not a vague idea. It was a promise. So they staked all they had — land, wealth, reputation, blood — on an idea: That liberty is worth everything.

So when we raise our flags and light our sparklers, we should remember:
They pledged their lives, fortunes, and sacred honor — so we might live free.

Let us live like it cost something — because it did.

“And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”
— Final line, Declaration of Independence, July 4th, 1776

🏗️ Make Your Own Machine Part 12: You Hit 200 Shares — Now What?

by Ryan Rush | Jul 4, 2025 | FIRE Engine

🏗️ Make Your Own Machine Part 12: You Hit 200 Shares — Now What?

(Scaling the FIRE Engine Like a Pro)

You did it. You stacked your way to 200 shares.

Maybe you bought them with your own money.
Maybe you reinvested premium until you hit that second block of 100.
Maybe you sold a few puts, got assigned, and built your position that way.

Doesn’t matter. The result is the same:

You now own 200 shares of a stock like RUM…
Which means you can now sell 2 covered calls.

This is where things start to snowball.

🚗 The FIRE Engine Just Got a Second Gear

Let’s say:

You sell 1 call per week and earn $15 = $60/month
Now with 2 contracts? You’re earning $30/week = $120/month

That’s $1,440/year — just from premiums.
You haven’t even touched capital gains or dividend income.

And guess what? That extra premium?
It helps you buy your third set of 100 shares even faster.

📈 Why This Stage Matters

At 200 shares, you’re doing more than “trying out” the strategy —
You’re running an income machine.

Now your FIRE Engine becomes:

More flexible
More forgiving
More fun

🔄 You can roll one contract and leave the other untouched

💰 You can go safer with one, and riskier with the other

📊 You can test strike prices, expirations, or even other stocks

You’ve got options. Literally.

🪜 The Stacking Effect

Let’s say RUM is $7.50/share.

Share Count	Calls You Can Sell	Weekly Premium	Monthly Income
100	1	$15	$60
200	2	$30	$120
300	3	$45	$180
400	4	$60	$240

You don’t need new capital — you just keep reinvesting and repeating.

It’s slow. It’s boring. It’s powerful.

🧠 But Don’t Get Cocky

At this stage, it’s tempting to:

Chase riskier stocks
Reach for juicier premiums
Overcomplicate your strategy

Don’t.

Stick with what works:

Own good companies
Sell reasonable strikes
Reinvest premium
Sleep well at night

Let the engine do its job.

🧠 Bottom Line

Hitting 200 shares isn’t the finish line — it’s the launchpad.
From here on, you’re stacking income faster, rolling smarter, and leveling up your financial momentum.

This is where the FIRE Engine shifts from “interesting” to life-changing — if you stay consistent.

👉 Up Next: [Post 13: How to Deal With Doubters (And Why Most People Stay Broke)]
Want to watch my stack grow week by week? Follow the FIRE Engine blog here.

🛠 Life Hit My RUMble Machine This Week (And That’s Okay)

by Ryan Rush | Jul 3, 2025 | FIRE Engine

This week, I had to make a move that I never plan for… but always prepare for.

I sold 40 shares of RUM at $8.60 to pay some bills.

💡 Why Am I Sharing This?

Because too many people on these finance pages only show you:

Their wins
Their green days
Their perfect, uninterrupted growth

That’s not real life.
Real life sends you a random bill on a random Tuesday. Real life says “Hey, I need $340 right now.”

🔻 What Happened to My Machine?

Here’s the straight breakdown:

Before the sale: I had just under 241 shares
Sold: 40 shares @ $8.60
After the sale: ~201 shares left

Am I sad about it? Honestly, not really.

Because this is why I build the machine in the first place.

🧠 Why I’m Not Worried

Here’s what changed:

My snowball is slightly smaller
My plan is exactly the same

I still have:

✅ 200+ shares (enough to keep running two covered calls)
✅ $9 call expiring July 18th
✅ $8 call expiring October 17th

And I still have:

✅ My weekly $25 deposits stacking new shares
✅ Premiums coming in to lower my cost basis further
✅ A mindset focused on building the machine, not chasing a quick win

🧾 This Is What Real Passive Income Looks Like

People think passive income is:

Sitting on a beach
Doing nothing
Magically rich

But real passive income is:

✅ Building a snowball
✅ Letting it roll
✅ Using it when life demands cash
✅ Rebuilding it right after

That’s true freedom — the ability to cash out a piece of your machine without killing it entirely.

🔮 What’s Next?

Now I keep it simple:

Continue weekly RUM buys
Let Theta decay my open calls
Stack premiums and shares back up to replace those 40 shares… and beyond

🏁 Final Thought

This week reminded me why I do this.

Because life will always send bills.

And I’d rather have a RUMble Engine paying them than put them on a credit card.

🎁 Want to Build Your Own RUMble Machine?

Grow wealth. Stack shares. Collect premium.
And hey — grab some FREE STOCKS and FREE MONEY while you’re at it.

👉 Start your own Robinhood account here.

No fancy pitch. Just the real tools I use every day to keep life paid and freedom growing.

July 3rd, 1776: The Day Before Independence

by Ryan Rush | Jul 3, 2025 | Dispatches, Historical Perspective, The Outlaw Faith, The Outlaw Files

July 3rd, 1776: The Day Before Independence

Today is July 3rd, 2025. But imagine for a moment that it is July 3rd, 1776.

The sun rises over Philadelphia, casting a hazy glow across the damp dirt streets. Merchants unload crates of grain and barrels of molasses from wagons. The air smells of horses, smoke, and sweat. Carriages rattle down lanes, iron wheels cutting grooves through mud still soft from the cool summer night.

But within the Pennsylvania State House – later named Independence Hall – a silence heavier than the morning fog settles on the delegates of the Continental Congress.

They have been debating for days. Candle wax drips onto worn boots. Ink stains their fingers from quills scratching parchment late into the night. Some bow their heads in silent prayer. Others sit with eyes closed, exhausted from argument and worry, replaying their words and fearing what tomorrow will bring.

In a dim corner sits Thomas Lynch Jr. of South Carolina, his eyes hollow with fatigue. His father, too ill to travel, entrusted him alone with their family’s vote for independence. Lynch arrived wearing a borrowed coat and riding a borrowed horse after his own gelding collapsed just miles outside the city. He smells of travel sweat and dust, but status and comfort matter little here. Today, they are simply men facing the same fate.

Nearby, the heavy-set Benjamin Harrison of Virginia breaks the silence with a dark jest to the slight, small-framed Elbridge Gerry of Massachusetts:

“I shall have the advantage when we are all hung for what we do here,” Harrison chuckles.
“For my weight will snap my neck at once, but you, Mr. Gerry, will dance on air for an hour ere you are dead.”

The men laugh – but it is a thin, nervous laughter. The kind that creeps out when men stand on the edge of doom.

Outside, John Adams paces beneath the elm trees, memorizing his arguments. Sweat rolls down his temples despite the breeze. He looks at the calm cracked sky and wonders how it remains so peaceful when the world is about to change.

Down the street, in a quiet rented room, Thomas Jefferson dips his pen in ink, reviewing and refining his words. Through the window, a twelve-year-old city boy watches with innocent curiosity, unaware he is witnessing the writing of sentences that will birth a new nation.

At noon, the church bells toll, not in celebration, but calling men to prayer. Women at the market whisper rumors of war. Blacksmiths hammer iron for wagon wheels and musket parts. Slaves move silently down alleys with baskets of bread for their masters, their own futures yet unspoken in the coming Declaration.

As dusk settles, the delegates adjourn for supper. They eat in quiet or hushed conversation, staring at their cups of cider or glasses of wine, knowing that tomorrow – July 4th – would brand them either heroes of liberty or traitors to the Crown.

July 3rd was not a day of fireworks.

It was not a day of barbecues and parades. It was a day of:

Sweat and dust
Ink and trembling hands
Prayer and dread
Silent courage and dark humor

The day before independence was not glorious. It was solemn. Heavy. Sacred.

Because on July 3rd, they were still just men – tired, worried, afraid – deciding if they would sign their own death warrants for the hope of a freer tomorrow.

“When the hanging comes, I shall die in an instant, but you, Mr. Gerry, will dance on air an hour or more before you are dead.”
– Benjamin Harrison, July 3rd, 1776

Reflection:

Tomorrow, we celebrate their decision.
But today, let us remember the fear before the courage,
the silence before the Declaration,
the shadows before the dawn.

Because freedom was never cheap – it was purchased with trembling hands willing to sign their lives away for something greater than themselves.

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