There is nothing certain in a man's life but that he must lose it. -Meredith Owen

Certainty is one of the most impossible things to come by here on earth. Entire global industries are devoted to trying to figure out how to sustain wealth, relationships, and security. Even the most sought-after experts are paid to merely make educated guesses on the stock market, self-improvement, and national defense. How funny is it that the people we place our trust in are, at best, just making educated guesses?

But so few people seem to get that. Ever since Sept. 11, 2001, the public has demanded that our government insulate us from any and every threat that may possibly surface. How many people do you think realize how impossible that is? Try standing in an airport security line more than once a week, and you'll see just how ridiculous it is to presume that the lady working the security counter can ultimately protect you from terrorism.

Don't get me wrong, these are good people, doing the best that they can, but they are only human and they make mistakes. I once accidentally got a starter pistol through security, only to realize it when I began unpacking my bag later that night. I had driven to a city earlier that week, and had used the gun for a sermon illustration. I had forgotten to take it out of my bag in order to fly home, and somehow it was never caught.

It was a sobering reminder of how most of the time we walk around airports with a false sense of security. On one hand, I have seen the airport security stop someone's grandmother from getting her nail clippers through, and on the other hand, security once let a man get on a plane with shoes full of explosives.

This is why it doesn't say in Jude 1:24-25, "To the only airport security guy, that is able to keep us from falling."

The book of Jude is a short one. Just one chapter. But its message is important enough for it to stand on its own. Written by Jude, the brother of James and half-brother of Jesus, it is a letter to the church in its earliest organization. He wrote with both concern and encouragement as the first believers were struggling to reconcile exactly what it meant to be saved by Christ. His letter was essentially a warning against false teachers who were diluting the gospel and twisting God's message of grace to serve their skewed understanding. Jude's great doxology was an encouragement to the early church to keep its hope in Christ alone.

Even today, with the church and our theologies well established, we spend so much energy trying to build certainty around us that we create false bubbles of confidence made of our own strength. And bubbles they are. It doesn't take much more than a pinprick to destroy everything we work so hard to build for ourselves.

I watched a friend last year plan his annual Christian festival with an attendance expectancy of more than seventy thousand. Thousands of volunteers and millions of dollars later, it simply began to rain. The entire event had to be canceled. Year after year, the event had gone on as scheduled, but that did not guarantee that it was going to this time.

This is why it also doesn't say in Jude 1:24-25, "To the only good track record, that is able to keep us from falling."

Let's face it. We control nothing. Not the weather, not wars, not the stock market — not even whether or not our loved ones will keep loving us. The pain of a broken marriage, a church split, the loss of a loved one — there are infinite levels of "sure things" from which we can fall.

That's why it's such a relief when we surrender to the fact that God is the only one who is able to keep us from falling. Not our money, not our best intentions — nothing except our Heavenly Father will keep us safe.

My wife, Jennifer and I were on a pontoon boat with her parents one afternoon when we saw a huge mansion being built on the lake. It was only halfway done, so we docked the boat and helped ourselves to a walk-through. I remember thinking to myself, I wish I was the guy who owned this house. The property was perfect. But all wasn't as it appeared.

My father-in-law told me the story of the family who was building the new house. The family's 2-year-old had drowned in their pool with everyone just steps away from his silent cries. Every time the father caught a glimpse of their backyard, the pool reminded him of the loss of his son. The family was building a new house because the current one was haunted by memories of loss and pain. The reality is that even in the new mansion, the pain will still be there.

That is why it doesn't say in Jude 1:24-25, "To the only house, which is able to keep us from falling."

You can only be dependent on a God who is stable and who has always been and who will always be. We elevate things both silly and noble into the position of God in our lives, hoping they will keep the picture for our lives intact. I can't tell you how many people go into counseling rooms shell-shocked when things they thought were in their control went awry. Or how many people lost their life savings and ended their lives after the tech crash of 2000. Or how many people living in New York will live the rest of their lives in complete fear because their sense of security was shattered on that clear September morning.

But unless we realize that God alone has the power to keep us secure, and unless we put him first, our efforts are entirely in vain.

Now this doesn't give us license to live haphazardly, making unwise decisions. You can't think, I can do whatever I want; God's got the wheel anyway. He'll take care of me. That's entirely backward. He's not some cosmic clean-up service. Rather, we have to put our trust in him first, living a life of obedience so that we allow him to be in all the details. If you keep in mind the eternal value of your actions, obeying him first, you'll know that whatever circumstances come your way, he ordained them.

One of the best books I've read that touches on this topic is Randy Alcorn's The Treasure Principle. It's actually a book about joyful giving, but it's rich with principles that illustrate the eternal value of allowing God to be first.

Randy writes of a contrast between two graves he saw while visiting Egypt. The first was one of a Yale graduate who'd used his entire inheritance to become a missionary and evangelize Muslims. The grave was simple and dusty, hidden off of a back alley — but on the epitaph it read, "Apart from faith in Christ, there is no explanation for such a life."

The other grave was so lavish that the contents were kept under high security at the Egyptian National Museum. The contents belonged to King Tut, a ruler whose treasures were buried with him for three thousand years under the premise that he could take those treasures with him to the next life.

On one hand we have the grave of a man who gave up everything he had because he knew that the kingdom of God was the only thing worth investing his treasure in. On the other, we find a museum full of priceless relics that were covered in dust for millennia while the owner faced an eternity of darkness. In the scope of eternity — whose situation was actually priceless?

There is only one true God who can keep us from falling. He is the only one who can hold all things in his hand. You can't put your security in your marriage, your children, your job, your future — you can only be dependent on a God who has always been and who always will be.

Our inability to keep ourselves from falling is the very thing that turns us to a God who is, in fact, able. It's one of the reasons Jude was warning the early church to cleave to Christ and not be distracted by the disability of man. When we are reminded that we are unable and he is able, we find ourselves free, leaning more and more on him. And through our leaning, God reveals his glorious stability.

God's ability is the backdrop of his glory.

Martin Luther said it well when he said, "I have held many things in my hands and I have lost them all. But whatever I have placed in God's hands, that I still possess."