faith unfaded

How many times do we hear a friend in a volatile on-again, off-again relationship say these words after a reconciliation?

Or a recovering alcoholic or addict claim when they pick up another drink or drug?

It’s almost never “different this time.” The reason is that the same patterns eventually emerge, leading to the same outcome.

I thought about this yesterday while listening to worship music and thinking — once again — that my faith walk is different this time.

But I’ve thought that before and ended up in a mess again. I needed to fully unpack why I believed it was different this time and guard that revelation deep in my soul.

I know that I reached a place of total surrender a couple of years ago. Someone even told me that was my true salvation point. It wasn’t, but I knew something she didn’t. It wasn’t my first time to completely sell out to Jesus.

From the time I was 14 years old and in my first dark pit, I’d been fully placing my yoke upon Him.

And always letting the devil cut the cord.

When I went into full-time ministry a decade ago, I was on fire. I was focused. I was dedicated. And I was a new recruit who went into the front lines with the heart of warrior but zero training. I was an easy target for the enemy.

Like a child who blames their parent for letting go of the bicycle when they take their first tumble, I blamed God. I decided to take back a little of the control to protect myself.

Once you take the reins of control — even slightly — surrender goes out the window.

There were other things I did as well.

I’d listen solely to Christian music. At least until I got angry. Then I’d assuage my feelings with the hard rock, “eff you” music of my youth.

When I was hurt I’d marinate in my misery, allowing the intrusive thoughts to remain center stage.

I also let works replace my relationship with the Lord, operating on a gold star system in my head.

If my faith was a set of brand new Goodyear tires, I was poking holes in them each time I allowed my feelings the spotlight. Eventually I was trying to drive on four flats.

By the time I reached an all-time low, I knew things had to change for good. I remembered a lesson I’d once taught my first-grade students: recognizing patterns. I was going to have to recognize the pattern that kept luring me away in order to break it.

By then, I’d had plenty of field training. Every life lesson — good or bad — provided intel. The key would be cutting off the patterns, controlling my mind, and making different choices.

It took some time and I had some missteps, but I broke every pattern that led to darkness.

Upset? Play Christian music even louder.
Angry? Stay silent. Pause. Redirect.
Mental spirals? Cut them off immediately.
Works? Great, but never a replacement for time alone with the Lord.

Once I broke the patterns, I began to see a new me. One that stays in a state of surrender because I not only understood, but began living, Matthew 26:41: The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

But most of all, I haven’t blindly accepted that it’s just different this time. I protect my relationship with the Lord above all else. I guard my heart and mind against the attacks of the devil. I know he is after me, and I know he’s won many battles in my life. I don’t underestimate him, but I also don’t focus on what he’s doing.

Instead, I keep my eyes on Jesus.