There are seasons in life when we fall in love with an awesome God. We want more of him and less of ourselves and this world.
But seasons like this do not always last. When they subside, they can be very hard—impossible, even—to reclaim. You don't plan for that to happen. It just does.
When we see our vitality slip, a switch flips. We stop working hard at the daily discipline of godliness. We're building a young career in a fast-paced city, and that consumes us. We go days without reading God's Word. We're finishing a tough degree program, and without knowing what's happening, we end up buried in our books, barely coming up for air. We're not seeking to avoid the Bible or prayer or church. It just happens. And slowly, quietly, the strength of our faith wanes. We begin compromising morally, watching stuff we shouldn't, doing stuff we shouldn't, talking about unedifying things. We lose our nerve to witness and live a bold life, because deep down we know that we're not about backing up our talk. We may continue to be aggressive about certain things—careers or the pursuit of money or degrees or friends or having fun—but not about what matters most: the Lord. Worshiping our Trinitarian God. Delighting ourselves in him.
And we gradually lose enthusiasm for building godly things. What do I mean? Well, if you're not thriving in your walk with Christ, you're not going to be in a position to help others thrive, are you?
Do you see this? Do you feel it? I think many people do nowadays. We know it'd be better to be building something great. We're well aware that there is lots of gospel work to do, no matter what fields we're in. We understand that God has given us certain talents and roles and opportunities to use for his glory. But we don't have the zeal necessary to pull off the work.
We can see where we should be. We just don't really have the oomph, the spiritual horsepower, to get there.
And so we shift into maintenance mode. You know the difference between, say, a restaurant that strives for excellence, and one that's content to serve an average product? That applies to us. We settle for average. Our marriages are okay. Our kids are fine. Our church—well, it's getting along. We're not setting new benchmarks for Christian laborers in our jobs, but we're doing what we need to do. Sometimes we pray. Occasionally we read the Bible. Once in a while we talk with someone about the Lord. But it's all very maintenance-y. Ordinary. Without zip.
This is decaf faith. And that means the people around us, those we should lead and influence to live on mission for the living Messiah, who reigns in heaven, live decaf lives. They may not be crashing and burning, but they're not soaring, either, because we're not building something big.
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