The Hidden Danger Every Christian MUST Avoid
VideoTranscript
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The afternoon sun hung low over Jerusalem, casting long shadows across the dusty streets. Peter and John walked through the temple gates at the hour of prayer, their sandal feet making soft sounds on the ancient stones. It had been weeks since Pentecost, weeks since that rushing wind and tongues of fire had transformed everything. The spirit of God had descended, and these simple fishermen had become something more than they'd ever imagined could be possible. Yet, here they were, still going to the temple at the regular hours of prayer, still participating in the familiar rhythms of their faith.
As they approached the gate called Beautiful, a man crippled from birth called out to them, his voice worn from years of the same old request. Alms for the poor. Alms for the poor. He'd been carried to this spot every day for as long as anyone could remember. His life defined by what he couldn't do rather than what he could. Peter stopped, looked directly at him, and spoke words that would change everything. Silver or gold I do not have, but what I do have, I give you.
In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk. Acts 3:6. What happened next defied decades of impossibility. The man's feet and ankles became strong. He jumped to his feet and began to walk. But more than just walk, he went with Peter and John into the temple courts, walking and jumping and praising God. The crowd that gathered was utterly astonished.
They all knew this man, had passed him countless times, had probably dropped coins into his cup. And now he was leaping like a deer, his voice ringing out in praise. But here's what strikes me most about the story. Peter and John hadn't gone to the temple that day planning to perform a miracle. They weren't following some predetermined script or checking off a box in their spiritual to-do list. They were simply living their faith, walking in the new reality of who they'd become in Christ. And when the moment presented itself, they responded from that deep well of transformation within them.
They didn't say, "Well, we've already received the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, so we're good. We've arrived. We can coast now." No, they were still growing, still discerning what it meant to be these new creations, these temples of the Holy Spirit.
This is the danger we all face, isn't it? The temptation to reach a certain point in our spiritual journey and think we've arrived, that we can settle in and stop growing. We've received Christ. We've gotten baptized. We've been saved. Maybe we've had a powerful encounter with the Holy Spirit. And we think, "All right, I've got it now.
I understand what I believe. I can recite the Apostles Creed. I know my church's statement of faith backward and forward. I'm done learning, done growing, done being transformed." But faith isn't a destination we arrive at. It's a journey we're always on. It's not a diploma we earn and hang on the wall.
It's a living, breathing relationship that continues to deepen and expand throughout our entire lives. Think about it. When you first fell in love with your spouse or you met your best friend, did you say, "Great, now I know everything about you." So, we can stop talking, stop sharing, stop discovering new things about each other? Of course not. That would be ridiculous. The joy of any real relationship is the ongoing discovery, the continual unveiling of depth and beauty you hadn't seen before.
The same is true, even more so, of our relationship with God. Paul understood this deeply. Here was a man who'd had one of the most dramatic conversion experiences in history. He'd been knocked off his horse, blinded by heavenly light, spoken directly to the risen Christ. If anyone could have said, "I've arrived spiritually," it would have been Paul. Yet decades later, near the end of his life, he writes to the Philippians, "Not that I have already obtained all this or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me." Philippians 3:12.
Press on, keep moving, keep growing, keep discovering. This from the man who'd written almost half the New Testament, who'd planted churches across the known world, who'd been caught up to the third heaven. If Paul didn't think he'd arrived, what makes us think we have?
You see, spiritual stagnation is one of the greatest dangers we face as believers. It's that comfortable place where we stop challenging ourselves, stop asking hard questions, stop being open to new revelations of God's character and purposes. We settle into our theological comfort zones, our familiar patterns of worship, our well-worn paths of devotion, and we stop expecting God to surprise us, to challenge us, to blow our minds with new understanding. I think about the religious leaders of Jesus day. They had the scriptures memorized. They could recite not just the creeds of their faith, but the entire books of the Torah. They had codified their beliefs into neat categories, built fences around the law to make sure no one strayed, created systems and structures to preserve and protect their faith.
And yet, when God himself showed up in human flesh, they didn't recognize him. Their rigid certainty had become a prison that kept them from seeing the very one their scriptures had pointed to. Jesus spoke about this danger in the parable of the wine skins. No one pours new wine into old wine skins, he said. Otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wine skins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wine skins. Mark 2:22.
The old wine skins were rigid, inflexible, unable to expand with the fermentation of new wine. That's what happens to our faith when we stop growing. We become rigid, brittle, unable to receive the new things God wants to pour into us. Now, don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying that the fundamental truths of our faith change. God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Jesus Christ is the way, the truth, and the life.
Salvation comes by grace through faith. These bedrock realities don't shift with the winds of culture or preference. But our understanding of them, our experience of them, our ability to articulate and apply them, these should be constantly growing and deepening. Think about the Apostles's Creed for a moment. It's a beautiful ancient statement of faith that Christians have recited for nearly 2,000 years. I believe in God, the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth. I believe in Jesus Christ, his only son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, and born of the Virgin Mary.
He suffered under Pontious Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended to hell. The third day he rose again from the dead. He ascended to heaven and is seated at the right hand of God the Father Almighty. From there, he will come to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.
Now, if you're not familiar with the Apostles Creed, when it says Catholic here, it means universal, as in the whole body of Christ, encompassing all Christians of all times and places, not the Roman Catholic Church specifically. These words connect us to believers throughout history. And there's real value in that. But here's the thing. The creed was never meant to be the end point of our faith journey. It was meant to be a foundation, a starting place, a springboard into deeper waters. And can I scandalize you here?
It's not necessary to have a creed like that. The early church fathers who formulated these creeds understood that faith development is a dynamic lifelong journey of growth and discovery. They weren't trying to box God in or reduce the Christian faith to a checklist. They are trying to provide guard rails to establish the non-negotiables to give new believers a framework for understanding the basics. There's value there. But they fully expected that as believers matured, they would move beyond merely reciting these truths to actually living them, experiencing them, being transformed by them. It's like learning to drive.
When you first start, you need to conscientiously think about every action. Okay, foot on the brake, shift into drive, check the mirrors, slowly press the gas. But no one expects you to keep driving that way forever. Eventually, these basics become second nature, freeing you to navigate complex situations, to take road trips to new places, to use your driving skills to bless others by giving them rides. The basics don't become less true or less important. They become so integrated into who you are that they free you for greater adventures. The same is true with statements of faith, creeds, and doctrinal form doctrinal formulations.
They can be helpful, especially when we're new to faith or when we need to clarify what we believe in the face of confusion or false teaching, but they're not meant to be the sum total of our spiritual experience. They're meant to be launching pads, not landing zones. Peter understood this. Remember, this is the same Peter who had made the great confession, you are the Messiah, the son of the living God, in Matthew 16:16. He had the right theological answer. He could have written it down, made it into a creed, and been satisfied. But Jesus immediately began to expand expand Peter's understanding talking about his coming death and resurrection.
Peter resisted this new revelation. It didn't fit his theological framework of what he thought the Messiah would be. Jesus had to rebuke him. Get behind me, Satan. You are a stumbling block to me. You do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns. Matthew 16:23.
Ouch. Peter had the right confession but the wrong application. He had to keep growing, keep learning, keep being transformed. And he did. The Peter we see at Pentecost, the Peter who heals the lame man, the Peter who writes those powerful letters near the end of his life. This is a man who never stopped growing, never stopped being surprised by God, never stopped discovering new depths of grace and truth. I wanted to take a second to tell you about my book which expands on what I'm talking about today.
The broken mirror of rediscovering our true nature in Christ will transform how you see yourself forever. Stop living as a struggling sinner trying to be good enough and discover you're already a beloved child of God with his divine nature flowing through you. This book will free you from shame, give you unshakable identity, and show you how to access God's peace, wisdom, and strength from within. The book shows how this story unfolds from Genesis to Revelation, and teaches you to live from rest, see others as fellow image bearers, and step into your true calling as a radiant reflector of divine light. Your daily struggles will become opportunities for God's nature to shine through you. Get ready to live the abundant life Jesus promised. The link to the book is in the video description.
Hard copy, Kindle, and audiobook versions are all available. May God bless your journey along his path for you. In his second letter, Peter urges believers, "But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." Second Peter 3:18. He doesn't say, "Make sure you've memorized the basic facts about Jesus." He says, "Grow, present tense, ongoing action. Keep growing.
Keep learning. Keep discovering new facets of God's grace. Keep deepening your knowledge of Christ." This kind of growth requires humility. It requires admitting that we don't have God all figured out, that there's always more to learn, always room to be corrected and refined. It requires what Jesus called a childlike faith. Not childish, but childlike.
Children are naturally curious, always asking why and how and what if. They're not embarrassed to admit they don't understand something. They're eager to learn, quick to wonder, ready to be amazed. Somewhere along the way, many of us lose that wonder. We trade our curiosity for certainty, questions for answers, mystery for mastery. We become like the Pharisees, so sure we have God figured out that we miss him when he shows up in unexpected ways. We cling to our statements of faith like life rafts, afraid that if we loosen our grip even a little, we'll drift into heresy or confusion.
But here's what I've learned. A faith that can't handle questions isn't much of a faith at all. A God who fits neatly into our theological boxes isn't much of a God. The real God, the living God, is wild and wonderful and constantly calling us deeper, higher, further into his mysteries. He's the God who speaks from whirlwinds, who shows up in burning bushes, who becomes a baby in a manger, who dies on a cross and then walks out of a tomb. This God cannot be contained in our creeds, as beautiful and helpful as they might be. Think about how Jesus taught.
He rarely gave straight doctrinal statements. Instead, he told stories, asked questions, pointed to birds and flowers and seeds. "The kingdom of heaven is like," he would say, and then spin a parable that left his listeners scratching their heads, wondering, pondering. He wasn't interested in giving them a neat theological system they could master and move on from. He was inviting them into a way of seeing, a way of being that would transform everything about how they lived.
When Jesus told the parable of the sewer, he described different types of soil, different heart conditions that receive the word of God. Only the good soil, he explained, produces a crop yielding 100, 60, or 30 times what was sown. Matthew 13:23.
Notice that even the good soil produces different amounts. There's variation, growth, development. The seed doesn't just sit there unchanged. It grows into something that produces even more seed. That's what spiritual growth looks like. We receive the word, the truth about God. And if our hearts are good soil, that truth doesn't just sit there like a fact that we've memorized.
It grows, produces fruit, multiplies, transforms us from the inside out. and the fruit it produces contains seeds for even more growth, even more transformation. I'm reminded of the recovery community's approach to spiritual growth. In programs like Alcoholics Anonymous, they understand that recovery, true transformation, isn't a one-time event, but a daily journey. They have their 12 steps, which could be seen as a kind of creed or statement of faith. But no one in recovery thinks that memorizing the 12 steps is enough. The steps are meant to be worked, lived, applied, and revisited.
People with decades of sobriety still introduce themselves as alcoholics, still work the steps, still sponsor others. They understand that the moment you think you've arrived, you're in danger of relapse. The same is true for all of us in our spiritual journeys. Yes, we're saved. Christ is in us. That is true. But the moment we think we've got it all figured out that we can coast on yesterday's revelation, yesterday's experience, yesterday's growth, we're in danger of spiritual relapse, of stagnation, of missing what God wants to do in us today.
Look at the biblical examples of spiritual growth. Abraham didn't receive just one call from God and then rest on that experience for the rest of his life. He received promise after promise, test after test, each one deepening his faith and expanding his understanding of who God was. Moses didn't have one encounter at the burning bush and call it a day. He spent 40 years in the wilderness, learning new things about God's character, his ways, his purposes. David wrote psalm after psalm, each one reflecting a different season of growth, a different facet of his relationship with God. Sometimes he's confident and triumphant.
The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear? Psalm 27:1. Other times he's desperate and broken. Have mercy on me, oh God, according to your unfailing love. Psalm 51:1. He didn't reach some plateau of spiritual maturity where he no longer needed to grow, to question, to seek, to change.
And we never do either. Even Jesus, perfect sinless Jesus, is described as growing. Luke tells us that as a child, Jesus grew in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man. Luke 2:52. If the son of God himself experienced growth and development, how can we think we're exempt? The Apostle Paul, that great theologian, that man of dramatic spiritual experiences, described his own journey this way. When I was a child, I talked like a child.
I thought like a child. I reason like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 1 Corinthians 13:11. He's talking about spiritual maturity, about growing up in faith. But then he adds this crucial point. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror.
Then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part. Then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:12. You catch that? Even Paul with all his revelations and experiences says he only knows in part. He sees only a reflection as in a mirror.
And ancient mirrors weren't like our modern ones. They gave a dim, imperfect, fuzzy reflection. Paul is acknowledging that even his considerable knowledge and experience of God are partial, limited with room for so much more growth and understanding. This should free us, not frustrate us. If Paul only knew in part, then we can release ourselves from the pressure to have everything figured out. We can embrace the adventure of continual discovery. We can hold our beliefs with both conviction and humility, firm in the essentials, but flexible in our understanding, always opening to God revealing more of himself to us.
What does this kind of ongoing spiritual growth look like from a practical perspective? Well, first it looks like staying hungry. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, Jesus said, for they will be filled. Matthew 5:6. Notice it's an ongoing hunger and thirst met by an ongoing filling. It's not a one-time satisfaction, but a continual cycle of desire and fulfillment that keeps us coming back to God for more. It looks like staying in the word, but not just to check off a Bible reading plan or to find verses that confirm what we already believe.
It means approaching scripture with fresh eyes, asking the Holy Spirit to show us new things, being willing to have our assumptions challenged and our understanding expanded. The writer of Hebrews says, "For the word of God is alive and active, sharper than any double-edged sword. It penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow. It judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Hebrews 4:12. That's not describing something static and predictable, but something dynamic and transformative.
Spiritual growth looks like authentic community where we're sharpened by others who are also on the journey. Proverbs tells us, "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17.
We need people in our lives who will challenge us, who will ask us hard questions, who will share their own discoveries and revelations. We need to be part of a community that's committed to growth, not just comfort. I try to read all the comments, even though I can't respond to them all, and I appreciate y'all. It looks like being willing to step out of our comfort zones to follow God into new territories of faith and obedience. Remember Peter walking on water? He had to get out of the boat to do that. Yes, he faltered when he took his eyes off Jesus, but at least he was willing to try something that stretched his faith beyond what he thought was possible.
The other disciples stayed safe in the boat and missed the experience of doing the impossible. Spiritual growth means being honest about our weaknesses and struggles, not pretending to have it all together, to have all the answers. It means admitting when we're in a season of dryness or doubt and seeking help to push through. The Psalms are full of this kind of honesty. Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my savior and my God.
Psalm 42:11. This psalmist doesn't pretend everything is fine. He acknowledges his struggles while choosing to press forward in faith.
It looks like serving others because nothing reveals our need for growth quite like trying to love difficult people or serve in challenging situations. Again, let me reference the comments. Jesus said, "Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet." John 13:14. In serving, we discover our own limitations, our need for more patience, more love, more wisdom, and we're driven back to God for fresh supplies of grace. Growing in faith means cultivating spiritual disciplines not as legalistic requirements but as practices that keep us open and receptive to God's work in our lives. Prayer, fasting, solitude, simplicity, celebration.
These ancient practices create space for God to speak, to move, to transform. They're like tilling the soil of our hearts, keeping it soft and receptive rather than hard and impenetrable. It means being willing to change our minds when God reveals new truth to us. Remember how Peter had to completely revolutionize his understanding of God's kingdom when God told him to go to Cornelius, a Gentile? Everything in Peter's background, his theological training, his understanding of scripture, told him that Gentiles were unclean, outside God's covenant. But God gave him a vision and said, "Do not call anything impure that God has made clean." Acts 10:15.
Peter had to be willing to let God expand his understanding. To admit that his previous theology, while not entirely wrong, was incomplete. But that's a scary thought, isn't it? To admit that some of our cherished beliefs might need refinement or expansion. But that's what growth requires. It doesn't mean abandoning the core truths of our faith. Christ's resurrection, salvation by grace, the authority of scripture, but it does mean holding our interpretations and applications with humility, always being willing to let God correct and refine our understanding.
I think about my own journey of faith. Like the writer who shared their story, many of us start with a simple, perhaps inherited faith. You might grow up in Christian homes, learn to pray and read the Bible from an early age. That certainly was my household. But there comes a point where we have to make that faith our own or question it where we encounter Christ personally and everything changes sometimes even our beliefs. And even then that's not the end. It's just the beginning of a lifetime of discovery.
I remember when I first truly understood grace not just as a theological concept but as a lived reality. It revolutionized everything about how I saw God, myself and others. But you know what? Years later, I'm still discovering new depths of that grace. Every failure, every victory, every season of life reveals new facets of God's unmmerited favor. I could write a statement about faith, about grace, memorize definitions, teach classes on it, but I hope I never stop being amazed by it, never stop growing in my experience and understanding of it. The same is true for every aspect of our faith.
Take the love of God for instance. John tells us simply, "God is love." 1 John 4:8. That's as basic a statement of faith as you can get. But do any of us really grasp the full implications of that? Paul prays that believers would grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of the Christ and to know this love that surpasses knowledge. Ephesians 3:18-19.
It surpasses knowledge. We can't fully comprehend it, but we can spend our whole lives growing in our experiential understanding of it. The adventure never ends. Or consider the indwelling presence of Christ. Paul's great revelation was Christ in you, the hope of glory. Colossians 1:27. That's a truth that could be reduced to a line in a creed.
But living out the reality of Christ actually dwelling within us, expressing his life through our unique personalities and circumstances. That's a lifelong adventure of discovery and growth. Now, what causes spiritual stagnation? Very often, it's fear. Fear of being wrong, fear of change, fear of losing control. Sometimes it's pride, thinking we've arrived, that we know enough, that we don't need input from others. Sometimes it's simple laziness or distraction.
We get busy with life and stop prioritizing our spiritual growth. Whatever the case, the result is the same. We stop growing, stop changing, stop being transformed. And a faith that isn't growing is a faith that is slowly dying. Jesus warned about this in his letter to the church in Ephesus. Yet I hold this against you. You have forsaken the love you had at first.
Revelation 2:4. They had sound doctrine. They worked hard. They persevered under trial. But they had lost their first love. That passionate, growing, dynamic relationship with Christ. They were going through the motions.
But the life had gone out of their faith. The solution? Consider how far you have fallen. Repent and do the things you did at first. Revelation 2:5. Go back to that early passion, that hunger for God, that willingness to be surprised and transformed. Rekindle the flame.
Start growing again. One of the beautiful things about spiritual growth is that it's not a solitary journey. We're part of a community of believers stretching back through history and around the globe. The great theologian Irenaeus in the second century echoed what Peter said about believers becoming partakers of the divine nature in 2 Peter 1:4. The desert fathers and mothers pursued radical transformation through solitude and prayer. Medieval mystics like Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross explored the depths of union with God. Even the reformers like Luther and Calvin rediscovered truths that have been obscured and called the church to renewed vitality.
Each generation of believers has had to work out what it means to follow Christ in their particular context, facing new challenges, asking new questions, discovering new applications of eternal truth. We stand on their shoulders, learning from their insights and their mistakes. But we can't simply repeat their formulas. We have to do our own growing, our own discovering, our own becoming. Think about how different the questions facing the church today are from those even 50 years ago. Technology, globalization, scientific discovery, social changes, all of these require us to think deeply about how ancient truths apply to modern realities. We can't just quote creeds at these challenges.
We need wisdom, discernment, a faith robust enough to engage thoughtfully with our complex world. This doesn't mean compromising biblical truth or chasing after every new idea. That would be folly. It means being like the men of Issachar who understood the times and knew what Israel should do. 1st Chronicles 12:32. It means being rooted deeply enough in God's word and character that we can navigate new situations with wisdom and grace. Growing faith also means learning to live with mystery and paradox.
So much of our spiritual life involves holding truth in tension. We are saved by grace alone, yet faith without works is dead. The kingdom of God is already here, but not yet fully realized. We work out our salvation with fear and trembling, yet it is God who works in us to will and to act. These aren't contradictions to be resolved, but mysteries to be lived. A faith that insists on tying up every loose end, answering every question, resolving every tension is a faith that has stopped growing. As we mature, we learn to live comfortably with mystery, to worship a God who is beyond our full comprehension, to trust even when we don't understand, but to never stop looking for answers.
Isaiah captured this beautifully. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. Isaiah 55:8-9.
Rather than being frustrated by this, we can be liberated by it. We serve a God who will always be more than we can fully grasp, which means there's always more to discover, always room to grow. The adventure never ends. So where does this leave us with things like creeds and statements of faith? They're tools, not destinations. They're maps, not the territory itself. They're helpful for orientation, for basic navigation, for making sure we're on the right path, but they're not meant to replace the actual journey of knowing God.
Imagine if someone handed you a map of the Grand Canyon and said, "There, now you've experienced the Grand Canyon." You'd think they were crazy. The map might help you navigate once you're there. Might point out key features to look for, but it could never substitute for standing on the rim, feeling the vastness, watching the light change the colors of the rock, hearing the echo of your voice across the chasm. The map is useful, but the experience is transformative, as any of y'all have ever been there would know. The same is true with our faith. Creeds and doctrinal statements are maps.
They're useful guides, especially when we're starting out or when we need to check our bearings, but they're not meant to replace the actual experience of knowing God, of being transformed by his presence, of growing in relationship with him. Let's be real, those creeds are milk, not meat. I love how Peter concludes his second letter. But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory, both now and forever. Amen. 2 Peter 3:18.
It's both a command and a promise. Grow. Keep growing. Never stop growing. And notice, it's growth in both grace and knowledge. It's not just intellectual growth, accumulating more information about God. It's growing in grace and our experience of God's favor and our ability to extend that grace to others and our capacity to live gracefully in a broken world.
The Christian life, it's an adventure, not an achievement. It's a journey, not a destination. A relationship, not a religion. And relationships are always growing, always deepening, always revealing new depths and intimacy and understanding. Don't settle for a stagnant faith. Don't be content with yesterday's revelation, yesterday's experience, yesterday's growth. God has so much more for you.
He wants to surprise you, to challenge you, to transform you. He wants to show you new facets of his character, new depths of his love, new applications of his truth. Be like those noble Bereans who received the message with great eagerness and examine the scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true. Acts 17:11. They didn't just accept Paul's teaching because he was an apostle. They searched the scriptures for themselves. They were eager to learn, but also careful to test everything against God's word.
That's the kind of growing faith we need. Eager, but discerning, open, but grounded, always learning, but always anchored in truth. Be like Mary, sitting at Jesus' feet, choosing what is better. Luke 10:42. That posture of learning, of receiving, of being taught by the master. In a world full of distractions and busyiness, we need to regularly return to that place of sitting at his feet, letting him teach us, trans transform us, shape us, and be like Paul, who after years of ministry and profound spiritual experience could still say, "I want to know Christ." Yes.
To know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death. Philippians 3:10. I want to know Christ. Present tense. Ongoing desire. Never satisfied, but always pressing forward for more. The beautiful thing about growing faith is that it's contagious.
When people encounter someone who's truly alive in Christ, who's constantly discovering new things about God, who's been transformed from glory to glory, it awakens hunger in them, too. Your growth can catalyst growth in others. Your questions can give others permission to question. Your wonder can rekindle wonder in people who've lost it. So, let me ask you, are you still growing? Or have you settled into a comfortable stagnation? Are you still asking questions, still seeking God with hunger and thirst, still open to being surprised by his grace?
Or have you reduced your faith to a set of beliefs you can recite, a creed, a list of behaviors you can check off, a routine you can sleepwalk through? If you realize you've been stagnating, don't despair. God is the God of the resurrection, the God who brings life from death, who makes streams in the desert, who causes dry bones to live again. He can rekindle that flame, restore that passion, restart that growth. All it takes is a willing heart and a humble admission that you need him to breathe fresh life into your faith. Remember the church in Ephesus that had lost his first love? Jesus didn't write them off.
He called them to repent and return. The same invitation extends to us whenever we find ourselves in spiritual stagnation. It happens. Just turn back, start fresh, and begin growing again. The journey of faith is meant to be an adventure that lasts a lifetime and beyond. Each day brings new opportunities to know God better, to be transformed more fully into the image of Christ, to discover new depths of truth and grace. Don't settle for anything less than the full abundant ever growing life Jesus promised.
Keep growing. Keep seeking. Keep discovering. Keep being transformed. The God who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it. But he invites you to actively participate in that process. There's always more.
More love, more truth, more grace, more transformation, more of God himself to discover and experience in this unending adventure. Let your faith be like that seed Jesus talked about planted in good soil, growing and producing fruit 30, 60, 100 times what was sown. Let it be like a tree planted by streams of water, yielding its fruit in season, whose leaf does not wither. Let it be alive, dynamic, growing, deepening, transforming you into the person God created you to be. The journey continues. The adventure awaits. Will you keep growing?
Let this be our prayer. Aba Father, we confess that too often we've settled for a stagnant faith. Content with what we've already learned, satisfied with where we've already been. Forgive us for making you smaller than you are, for thinking we had you all figured out, for closing our hearts to new revelations of your character and purposes. Rekindle in us that first love, that holy hunger, that childlike wonder. Give us courage to step out of our comfort zones, wisdom to discern your truth, and hearts humble enough to keep learning and growing. May we never stop discovering new depths of your grace, new facets of your character, new applications of your truth.
Keep us growing, Lord, until that day when we see you face to face and know fully even as we are fully known in Jesus name. Amen. You're still here. That's great. Thank you for watching the whole video. I hoped it'd help you in your walk with God. Since you made it this far, I wanted to ask you for your support in my ministry by becoming a channel member.
Just click the join button below. As my thank you, I'll personally mail you a copy of my book with a handwritten note inside. You also get access to our Discord community where we can chat together, plus early access to all my videos before they're publicly released. After joining, just email me at jonathan lejayodcast@gmail.com with your name and mailing address for the book and I'll send you the Discord invite link. Thank you so much for considering supporting this ministry. [Music]
