My dad only spends money on the absolute, basic necessities for survival. For this reason, when I entered our basement and beheld a brand-new pool table, I was convinced he’d gone crazy. (I also discovered a pair of blue-flame rimmed sunglasses and a blown speaker in his car. I rest my case.) He adored his new purchase, and laws were quickly dictated:

GOLDEN RULE: Thou shall not have food/drink near pool table.

*amendment: Thou shall not bring food/drink into basement…period.

*amendment: Thou shall refrain from even looking at pool table if food/drink can still be smelt on your breath.

Unfortunately my cousin JP missed the memo.

Despite several warnings, JP allowed his Diet Coke to boldly go where no drink had gone before–the pool table’s lair! Initially the exiled beverage was restricted to safely rest upon a distant bookshelf. However, quickly tiring of hiking across the basement every time he was thirsty, the Diet Coke slowly began inching closer and closer into forbidden territory. A glimmer caught my eye. I looked up in utter horror as my worst nightmare became reality. There, standing defiantly upon the ledge of the pool table, was the Diet Coke, and JP’s hand was blindly reaching up for it.

“NOOOOOOOO!!!” I bellowed in a deep resonating voice, and in slow motion my hand raced out to intercept…Bang! Glub glub glub… Too late! Jumping up, our hearts froze. Where our expensive pool table had once proudly stood; now sat a coke-filled paddling pool.

Pitifully JP came sprinting back into the room arms full of toilet paper, “HELP!” Rubbing the abominable wet spot like a madman the stain merely spread. As Coke began dripping through the bottom of the table onto the carpet I could fainting hear him mumbling, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”

“JP, you need to go tell my dad.” Turning his pale, sweaty face toward me, he shook his head, “You’re crazy! He’ll tear me apart and cook me in garlic sauce!” (Oh yeah. Good point.) Without another word, he dashed from the room.

JP realized he had messed up big time and rightly feared the consequences. He knew the rules and he broke them. Just as he had been warned, his worst fears were realized. We have all had that sickening feeling when we knew we have blown it. People warned us it would happen. The Bible was clear about what was right and wrong. Yet for some bewildering reason, we went ahead and did it anyway. Now we dread facing the music.

At times we view God the way my cousin saw my dad—with terror! We can be like Adam and Eve after they sinned and foolishly try to hide. But it’s no use. Unlike my dad, God knows the moment we mess up. Actually, He knows what we will do before we sin. But He also stands ready to forgive us and restore us into a relationship with Him where we don’t need to fear. The writer of Proverbs wisely conveyed: “He who covers his sins will not prosper; but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.” (Prov. 28:13). If you have been hiding your sin, confess it today and find freedom.

My father once posed a troubling question, “Daniel, think it’s time to get a part-time job?” Shrugging lazily I responded, “I think I’ll just skip the menial work and head straight to upper management.” However, a previous childhood experience should have reminded me how unlikely that would be.

It was mid-August as I exited the plane onto Texas soil. My pre-deodorant-wearing four-year-old self quickly erupting into a mini waterfall of sweat. To make matters even more miserable, my family headed straight for my uncle’s marathon wedding rehearsal where I was plopped into a stuffy (but cute!) suit and tie. Whining and complaining the entire two-hour rehearsal, every ounce of fluid in my body gushed through my pores; my poor unfortunate Canadian body ill prepared to handle the furnace of a Texas summer. Stuffed into a tiny car with a broken AC afterwards, I asked myself, Will the misery ever end!?

Then I saw it! Arriving at the reception, a ray of hope at last! Like a heavenly oasis, was an icy cold pool! Giving my parents the slip by the refreshment table, I beelined straight for it.

There I stood, upon the threshold of happiness; the doorway to joy. Excitement overwhelmed me; This will feel sooo good!

Looking left I saw bored kids lazily splashing around with lame toys in the shallow end. Their faces looked miserable as they cried for their mommies.

Looking right I saw, The Deep End! “Big kids” laughing while playing exciting water-games and sipping cool drinks by the poolside.

Angel on Left Shoulder: “Stay in the shallow end…safety is special! Devil on Right Shoulder: “Cool kids swim in deep ends…”

With a running start I leapt… into the deep end! Only then did I wonder if it would possibly be problematic that my closest previous experience to swimming had been in my mother’s womb. Splash!

Hitting the water, I immediately took a six-foot plummet of death. Flailing my body around helplessly, I couldn’t distinguish up from down, or left from right. After only four glorious years, it was all over!

My lungs began to burn; then I felt two hands grab me and yank me from the water. Opening my eyes, I stared into the face of my soon-to-be aunt (HUGE brownie points with her new in-laws!), who had jumped in to save me, fancy clothes and all.

As Christians, it’s so easy to get ahead of ourselves. We dream of doing great things for God and impacting our entire schools or towns. These are noble ambitions and, if we are faithful, God can lead us down those paths. However, we cannot neglect the divine assignments that seem less glamorous or important. God always matches His assignments with our faithfulness (Matt. 25:21).

In the Bible, Joseph was faithful in every assignment God gave him, whether it was watching someone’s household as their slave, or doing chores in a prison. Because of his faithfulness, God ultimately raised him to the right hand of Pharaoh where he saved the lives of many people. What has God been asking you to do lately? Are there any smaller assignments that perhaps you have put off or forgotten?

When you’re like me, lazy and terminally useless, there are few things in life as humbling as filling out a job application:

Name: Daniel R. Blackaby

Previous Work Experience: Every journey starts with a first small step…

Talents/abilities: N/A

Understanding that most businesses were now using my applications as scrap paper and coasters, I almost fainted when I received a call from Eleanor, owner of the local video store, informing me I started on Monday!

I was determined to prove that, though her only choices were hiring me or remaining short-staffed, I’d be a valuable employee. Monday morning I arrived forty-five minutes early…on the dot, looking sharp.

When Eleanor peeled up in her rusty pickup truck, I gave a slight bow, “Greetings my lady.”

She snarled, “You’re in customer parking, move.” In that precise moment I understood I wasn’t exactly going to be working side-by-side with Mother Theresa. In her deep, scratchy voice she barked out my orders for the day. The Open sign was lit, customers poured in, and with her eyes peering through me, I shot into action.

It started great! The customers adored me! I did an extra thorough job cleaning shelves, and demonstrated complete mastery over the till. I was charming, funny, and devoured any task put in front of me. Eleanor must have been pleased!

However, the tide turned with one simple demand, “Dan, return these videos now.” I glanced in horror towards the counter to see a mammoth stack of returns. People have set up base camps under smaller things than this!

I gulped, I knew my moment had arrived; it was now-or-never-time to prove myself to Eleanor. Today boys would become men. This was my Apollo Creed match; this was my David and Goliath tale. Like Edison and his light bulb before me, the next few moments would define me.

As I started separating the pile, I sensed Eleanor hovering behind me, taking in my every action. This is not to say I have some uncanny sixth sense, but rather that I could smell the conflicting smells of Zesty Doritos and carrots on her breath as her face rested inches from mine.

Organizing them alphabetically to increase efficiency, I quickly had a discouraging realization, I couldn’t remember the alphabet. The first video was “King Arthur,” “Now K comes after…um…W?…no…before S!… arg…sigh…abcdefghij…K! Yay! One down…fifty-three to go.” This became my routine for each movie.

I had organized four more videos when I felt a strong hand grasp my shoulder, “Please–for the love of Tom Cruise, stop singing that song!” I spent the rest of my shift re-washing clean windows. Scratch that one down as a failure.

Christians can suffer from the same downfall. We seek to please God or peers with actions or head knowledge, but the basic foundation of our faith is ignored or forgotten. If we are merely participating in Christian activity and memorizing Scripture, we are no different than the Pharisees. Our relationship with Jesus is the cornerstone and foundation of our faith; if we neglect it, all else inevitably tumbles down.

For am I now seeking the favour of men, or of God, Or am I striving to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a bond-servant of Christ. Galatians 1:10

As most guys do, I continually seek to maintain a fairly high score on the macho-o-meter (although the fact that I’m only five foot six and embarrassingly scrawny doesn’t help matters). I like to give off the impression that I’m a pretty strong guy who’s got things together. However, these masculine ideals were tossed out the window last week when I caught a virus and completely self-destructed.

My family just moved into a transitional apartment in anticipation for our move to South Carolina at month’s end. I was excited! Living in such close quarters would be a great way of family bonding! I envisioned card games filled with laughter and movie nights with popcorn! However, I thought the rapture had come the way people started leaving! Mom – Saskatoon to visit sister, Dad – Alaska for work, Sister – off to summer youth camp, girlfriend – Vancouver to find apartment. Guess it’s just me and my dog, Chevy, bacheloring it up this week! However, this dream bubble popped as well when I was informed the apartment didn’t allow pets; he’d be staying at a dog-sitter.

Doing what any self-respecting man would do in a situation like that, I purchased six boxes of Kraft Dinner and set up camp in front of my Xbox. Things might not be too bad after all!

Then it hit me. It started as a mere irritation in my throat. Never filled with even slight ambitions for med-school, I couldn’t distinguish Tylenol from pop-rocks. So I decided to just ‘tough it out.’

It got worse. I devolved a fever so high I could’ve invited over some friends and roasted marshmallows over it. My throat had swelled out like a toad, leaving me unable to shallow or eat (which stinks when you’re use to eating every twelve minutes). The second night I woke multiple times to throw-up. Having not eaten for two days, it was so dry and violent that blood vessels in my face exploded and my eyes swelled to golf balls. Lying in bed, in too much pain to even roll over, I began to cry. I felt so alone and desperate.

However, God is good and sent me a much needed angel on the third day (one who also goes under the title of ‘my girlfriend’). Along with her came medication, chicken noodle soup, and rides to and from doctor’s appointments. I still feel pretty lousy, but it’s comforting to know that there’s somewhere here who will take care of me.

Have you ever found yourself in that place, desperate or alone? Several times throughout my Christian journey there’ve been moments when I was spiritually sick, and I felt completely helpless, like no one understood or cared.

I encourage you not to struggle through those trying times alone. It’s not weak to let God carry you through those rough moments. In fact, it’s probably one of the best places you could ever be. The Bible says, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and loaded down with burdens, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28). Having taken God up on the offer many times myself, I can promise you, He won’t let you down!

The anxious crowd rose to their feet in hushed anticipation. The perfectly spiraled football soared over the field in a majestic arch. A titanic duel between rival teams had come down to an epic finish. Trailing by one, mere seconds to play, our quarterback had heroically marched his soldiers down field with pin-point precision and clutch execution. Staring at the end zone and an improbable win, it was all-or-nothing time…It was Daniel time…

The church college ministries from my city annually rent the professional football stadium and battle for the prestigious spray-painted golden football. The only problem is that, well, I’ll never be mistaken for Tom Brady. Football was not my sport as a child, and my body has failed to maintain its gazelle-like agility since then; having been quickly replaced by twenty “college-pounds.”

The day before the tournament, my brother offered to toss the old pigskin around for practice. I kindly thanked him but informed him I would prepare mentally instead, then proceeded to plop myself down, jumbo bag of stale Cheetos in hand to play Madden 08 on my Xbox.

The next morning I arrived at the field- my face covered in Akkadian warrior battle paint. The eyes of the opposition went wide. I sniffed the air…it reeked with the stench of fear…

Pre-game warm-ups began, but I elected to stay on the bench and guard the half-time snacks. A friend offered me a water bottle, just as two fan-girls skipped by. With a grunt I snatched it…and chucked it into the bleachers, “water is for the weak…”

We dominated game one. Our quarterback made perfect throws, our receivers made routine catches…I ran around aimlessly spouting off annoying trash-talk…

Game two followed the same game plan, but we fell behind. The opposition had opted to use double coverage elsewhere, foolishly leaving me unchecked, apparently realizing that in two games my quarterback had avoided me like the black plague. But on the last play, game on the line, the unthinkable happened…the ball was thrown to me…

Well actually it was thrown to Rob, but due to a combination of overthrowing and Rob tripping, the ball came sailing towards me. Unsure what to do, I went airborne, extended my hand…and…SNAP!

One sprained finger and fumble later the game was over….there’s always next game right?

Christians sometimes make the same mistake in their walk with God. They let their relationship with Him play second string while things are going well, but attempting to make it right again when a trial hits.

My pastor once said, “Crisis is not the time to be mending a relationship with God, it’s the time to already have one in place.” Unfortunately, I know for me this is not always the case. I am often too busy or preoccupied to say more than a rushed prayer, and I commit to just read ‘twice-as-much’ of my Bible tomorrow morning when I don’t have time today.

A crisis could be just around the corner. It will be game day again soon. Are you adequately prepared? Will your life make a difference? Will you be victorious?

But I discipline my body and bring it under subjection, lest when I have preached to others, I myself should become disqualified. 1 Cor. 9:27

I’m not exactly renowned for being someone who makes “health-conscious” choices. This character flaw traces back to my childhood. As babies, my brother and sister crawled—I rolled. Perhaps this was due to my cheeks, which served as constant anchors, dragging two or three feet along the floor behind me. This globular physique carried into teenage-years due to a growing addiction. When I was cut, I bled McDonald’s grease. After surpassing yet another ‘milestone’ in weight, I knew it was time for change. It was time for Running Club Inc.

As club president and founder, I vowed the evil forces of calories would no longer run rampant throughout my body unchecked. My club’s motto was simple: Calories don’t take days of—and neither should we.

I designed the official Web site and commenced recruiting. I quickly drafted my sister Carrie and offered her the lucrative position of vice-president and special events coordinator. With my executive team in place, we invited the masses to apply for available spots on the club.

With our ambitious publicity campaign leaping into action, we intended for Running Club Inc. to be as popular a conversation topic as Britney Spear’s wardrobe (as I said, ambitious). Upon the closure of our marketing blitz, we conducted a roll call. Including Carrie and I, our prestigious Club’s membership now boasted a total of…well two.

Realizing that perhaps people were hesitant to join a club whose posterboy looked like Jabba the Hutt, I made an executive decision. The show must go on!

We made the trek to a running store, where they fit us with scientifically-designed, state-of-the-art running shoes that could make Donavan Bailey (Canadian Olympic Champion) envious, high quality running socks featuring advanced breathing technology, along with custom-fit headbands, and indestructible water bottles. With such cutting edge equipment, I began to seriously consider making a bid for the summer Olympic team.

To celebrate our progress we planned the club’s kick-off party. We’d open with ice-breaker activities, transitioning into a meet-and-greet, and end by planning an itinerary, while enjoying some low-carb snacks.

A few weeks later during dinner, my dad inquired about our club’s progress. Being the respected and esteemed president of the club, I stood and gave a detailed report, putting emphasis on the great success of our kick-off party, perfect attendance! Obviously impressed, he posed a troubling question, “That’s great. How’s the running coming along?”

“Dad, do you have any idea how much work goes into administering a club like this!? With all this paperwork, press conferences and executive duties to perform, how can you expect me to find time in to run? Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a long range planning meeting in five…”

Do Christians ever treat their relationship with God like Running Club Inc.? With so many fellowships to attend, Bible studies to organize, choir and praise band practices to attend, we can end up pretty busy with church. But merely spending time in a church building or engaging in church activities is not a substitute for a relationship with God.

Isn’t it ironic, that sometimes I’m so busy with Christian activities that I can’t find time for Christ? Has your Christianity become merely a string of activities? Are you merely a member of the Christian club, or are you a follower of Christ?

Recently I received notice from my dentist that I was past due for my annual checkup. Reluctantly, my younger sister Carrie and I booked appointments. We’ve had very different track records with our teeth. On one hand, Carrie’s never experienced a cavity. Having shared a sink since birth I’m painfully aware of why; athletes have completed Olympic triathlons in less time than she spends brushing. I, on the other hand, got about a one/per appointment ratio going. But this time I was determined things would be different.

Sure enough, Carrie finished her check-up with her perfect record intact. The dentist called me in next.

Now, I’ve always hated dentists; how they insincerely ask scripted questions about your life, then jam mini-vacuums halfway down your esophagus while you attempt to gag out replies. But what gets me most is that with every cavity they re-demonstrate state-of-the-art brushing techniques while slowly reciting some brushing jingle like I’m five. Is anything more humiliating?!

This particular appointment, however, I was prepared. I knew full well that I had thought about flossing the same number of times I had thought about long-haired Tibetan mountain goats, that my current toothbrush’s lifespan dated back to the Victorian era, and that every time I smiled into a mirror I half-expected to see Dorothy and Toto skipping along my teeth singing, “follow the yellow brick road…” So I went out and purchased a high quality tooth-bleach-kit. POOF! My teeth were white as snow! My dentist would never know the difference!

Confident in my scheme, I cheerfully popped into the chair and flashed a dazzling smile. After all the usual torture was performed, my dentist returned holding my x-rays. He looked stunned. HA! Didn’t expect these perfect chompers did ya!

Taking a deep breath he began: “Have you been brushing your teeth daily?” How rude! Defiantly I shot back, “Of course! TWICE a day actually! THRICE a…”

“Mr. Blackaby you have three cavity’s…” THREE! In one appointment! Wow, I never thought… “…on your bottom jaw…there’s another four on the upper…Now, allow me to demonstrate some helpful brushing techniques.”

It took three full appointments to complete my fillings. My little sister remarked on the drive home that they could construct a smart-car with the amount of tin they had crammed into my teeth.

As Christians today, do we ever confuse quantity for quality? I’ve been guilty of waking up, skimming a few verses, muttering a half-hearted prayer, and then labeling it my, “Daily time with God.” However, it lacks the time or focus to have any real impact on my life. It serves no real purpose, other than allowing me to go throughout that day feeling guilt-free and accomplished.

Lately I’ve come to understand that daily, does not always equal quality. What does your devotion time look like? Don’t be satisfied with your devotions by their regularity alone, continually strive to go deeper.

Pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks. 1 Thess. 5:17-18

Throughout history there have been many dynamic duos: Batman/Robin, Pinkie/The Brain, Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie. But the most deadly duo of all? My buddy Robbie and I. That’s deadly as in, “from the perspective of our camp counselors.” Oh yes, Rob and I terrorized many youth camps in our day. That is until the unthinkable happened, we got old.

Let me tell ya, once ya hit seventeen the ol’ body doesn’t hold up like it did back in the “Glory days,” when we were the ripe, tender age of sixteen. I remember the day clearly, as if it only happened several years ago, when camp events took entirely new meanings, like stepping into a bright new world. Free time came to be mutually redefined as ‘nap-time.’ Come to think of it, so did recreation time and class time and often lunch as well, and well, you get the idea.

God blessed us that year, as we joyfully discovered our dorm counselor shared the same sacred adoration and devotion to napping. A friendship soon blossomed, and many naps were had.

During one particular nap-time-formerly-known-as-recreation-time, while peacefully resting, we were violently torn back into horrible reality of wakefulness, blaring throughout the room was the sound of the fire alarm.

Outside, panicked screams were followed by hurried footsteps anxiously marching towards the exit. Our youth pastor’s voice rang over the noise, begging for order. Our trio’s eyes met, not a word was spoken; we knew what must be done.

Without rising, our counselor reached up to the alarm. CRACK! It rolled across the room and bumped against my bed, severed wires still sparking. Grunting he muttered, “Fire alarms not working,” and in unison our heads flopped back to our pillows. The next two hours of that nap were glorious.

Lucky for us, this story doesn’t end with third-degree burns; it was a false alarm (there was a lot of fried chicken left on dinner plates that night). Looking back, it was foolish to ignore the alarm. However, I’ve discovered that I ignore warning signs all the time. Ever ended up in a situation or place that you regretted later? Perhaps a party with friends when alcohol or drugs were passed around? An Internet site you shouldn’t be on? Crossing set boundaries with a girl or boy?

Unfortunately, none of us are free of regret. We all end up in the wrong situation sometime or another. Lately, I’ve realized that those moments never simply “pop-up” or catch us off-guard either. There are always warnings and red flags along the way, but we ignore them. The Bible says to flee from evil (2 Timothy 2:22). It doesn’t say, “Hang around evil, but don’t participate,” or even, “Only venture into evil as far as you think you can handle, then stop.” I’ve found the harsh reality several times that I’m not as strong as I thought I was. We can never relive those moments, so I encourage you to take the warning signs seriously. Because no matter how many false alarms there may be, eventually you may experience a real fire.

Flee from the evil desires of youth, and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of a Pure Heart. 2 Timothy 2:22

Basement cleaning day….the mere mention can send shivers down a spine. The year was 1994. The setting: a dimly lit basement. The scenario; a young boy, with his siblings, slaving away under the oppressing tyranny of their parents….I was that boy. This is my tale…

Every gloomy Saturday morning we rose at sunup, descended the long sinister steps deep into the basement which, without fail, would resemble a nuclear testing ground. Sweat dripping from our brows, we slaved away until the task was completed, then graciously accepted an entire ONE dollar reward, completely ignorant of the sick and twisted operation our parents were running.

Being a rather lazy six-year-old, however, I put my mind to other things to pass the time. Such as tying my younger sister to the doorknob with rope, and watching her panic when she heard my father’s approaching footsteps, or tormenting my brother repeatedly.

My father, suspecting the hours worked didn’t quite match the progress, began inspecting every so often, with the vicious threat of withholding our hard-earned dollar should ever we be discovered not working. The solution was simple; fool around until the sound of footsteps cued me to return to work. Problem solved!

One morning, too lazy to clean, I decided to duel my brother to the death! Grabbing a plastic sword I yelled, “Have at thee, yonder coward! Or dost thou be chicken!” Turning to face me, he grabbed a sword of his own. I smirked, “Ha! So thou art brave indeed! I grant ye that. But death shall flowith quickly from thy blade!” But then, for some reason (perhaps the way my sword danced like Patrick Swayze through the air), Mike’s eyes bulged and he collapsed to his knees. Realizing that victory was within grasp, I leaped onto our toy table. “Ah! Ye whimpering pup! Eat blade!”…then I heard a deep cough.

I turned to face to see my dad standing in the door with a rather unpleasant disposition. The scam was up. Gulping, I mustered up one last bit of courage…,”Dad…you may take my dollar…but you can never take…my FREEDOM!”

Oh man, what a spanking…

I realize now that my little game was pretty foolish. As silly as it may be in basement cleaning, I’ve discovered that I’ve sometimes carried that same attitude into my relationship with God as well. Is the way you act ever affected by who you’re with? Or by who’s watching? I’ve been guilty of sometimes being the ‘super-Christian’ at my church, but then my actions and talk are often different when I’m around my peers at work or school. I’ve realized that I can’t do both.

God is gazing down from Heaven watching our actions, both with Christians and with non-Christians, and He will hold us accountable for them. I once heard this quote: “Your true character is determined by how you act when no one else is around.” What is your true character? Could God walk into our lives at anytime and be pleased to find us hard at work, or would He be disappointed to find us just fooling around?

Early on in school I developed an important philosophy. It goes as follows: School is not about how hard you work, it’s about how hard your teacher THINKS you worked. Yeah, just call me Aristotle. I spent years (and several detentions) perfecting this talent of mine. By the time seventh grade rolled around I was masterful. The amount of hours worked in comparison to the grades was something to be admired. I soon learned however, that even a great theory such as mine is not fail-proof.

Sitting at my desk daydreaming, I didn’t even notice my teacher start lecturing. One word violently dragged me back into reality, “Ok, let’s start PRESENTATIONS…”

“Oh no…,” franticly flipping through my agenda I found the date. Written in very mocking capital letters: “CLASS PRESENTATION.” Yep, the same one I’d known about for like three weeks and done absolutely nothing about. We would present alphabetically, so I was up second.

I took a deep breath, “Stay focused, you can do this.” Jeff got up to present first… just my luck! The dude had been president of student council since before I could even tie my shoes. He pulled out a homemade shoebox diorama. My head fell to my desk, “Jesus…come quickly!”

He finished, the class roared in applause…I groaned. The moment of truth had arrived. I grabbed a blank piece of paper, flashed a fake smile, and winged it.

They laughed, they cried! My speech was perfect! Looking up from my false-notes I saw that every eye was on me, they were eating it up! They seemed extremely impressed by my elegant speech (or perhaps that I had apparently been able to cram a whole fifteen minute speech onto a single side of paper!). I ended with a powerful closing statement, and I could see the dramatic conviction in the eyes of my audience. Faking a humble bow, I returned to my desk accompanied by a symphony of cheers. I had made it! Almost…

“Hey, Dan.” It was my teacher’s voice, “You kind of mumbled in the middle there, I missed some info, can I have your notes to clarify it?” Turning around, I saw my teacher holding out her hand with a victorious smirk on her face. Busted!

Looking back I’m reminded of how my Christian walk can sometimes be. I speak the Christian lingo, attend church weekly, lead Bible studies and so on, but through it all my relationship with God is hurting. I’ve realized how easy it is to “play Christian.” Our outer actions sometimes contradict our inner attitudes. We give the impression that we are walking close with God, but all the while our Bible gathers dust and the only prayers we pray are before meals. But despite how well we fool others, God always sees through our masks. I encourage you as you go about this week to consider if maybe you’ve just been “playing Christian.” Always remember that God isn’t being fooled.

How terrible it will be for you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs that look beautiful on the outside but inside are full of dead people’s bones and every kind of impurity. Matt. 23:27