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There’s a freight-train truth I keep coming back to, the kind of truth that feels more like a patient map-maker finally revealing a hidden route. I’ve been a Christian for decades—long enough to feel the ache of things said and unsaid, long enough to watch entire congregations wobble between hunger and half-fed contentment.

What I want to write here is partly for me—a way of making sense of what I’ve learned, practised, failed at and been rescued from—and partly for anyone else who’s sick of baby milk and wants the real bread.

What we call “Christian life” too often reduces to a set of behaviours handed down in well-meant sermons: pray, read your Bible, attend, give, say the right things. Those are not bad things; they are necessary. But they are not the how. They are not the underlying machinery that turns spiritual concept into felt reality. What most of us are missing—what I have watched myself miss, again and again—is a change of map: a reorientation from surviving by the body’s instincts to living by the Spirit’s reality.

So this post is about that map. It is a practical, theological and slightly stubborn insistence that the life Jesus promised—abundant, transformative, real—is not a slogan; it is a re-education of attention. It is learning to live from a different centre than the one we have been culturally compelled to accept.

THE MAP WE’VE BEEN GIVEN IS OFTEN WRONG

Our brains are brilliant pattern machines. They are the first great biological intelligence—an AI wired to keep the body breathing, fed and safe. Its mission is survival. It builds a map for that end. The problem is that map is built from the inputs we receive: culture, upbringing, education, fear, subtle narratives of scarcity. If the map is wrong, the route we travel is wrong. We try to navigate spiritual realities with a physical compass.

The church sometimes becomes complicit in that. We gather and are fed encouraging platitudes that keep us warm but not formed. “Be a good Christian” becomes the refrain, without the concrete how-to: how to move from infant dependence to mature rest; how to stop self-salvation and enter divine economy; how to inhabit the presence of God in our everyday, messy circumstances.

ROMANS 12:2

I want to insist on two things: first, that Christian maturity is not moral self-improvement; it’s a re-placing of the centre of gravity of the soul from body-ruled survival to Spirit-ruled rest. Second, this is practical. It is learned. It is practiced. It is accessible — but it requires a discipline that your body will resist.

NOT BY MIGHT—THE PARADOX OF GOD’S POWER

Scripture gives us the paradox at the heart of spiritual life.

“Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts.” —Zechariah 4:6, KJV

The line is simple and subversive: God’s rule moves opposite to the world’s logic. Where the world says plan, hustle, control, God says cease striving and receive. That is not a call to passivity; it is an invitation to enter a power that is not produced by our strength.

We get to choose whose map we follow/install.

Paul makes the same point in his language about weakness: God’s power is perfected in weakness (cf. 2 Cor. 12:9. The body—our survival apparatus—will always prefer a plan; it prefers to act, to manage risk, to fix—sitting still and waiting for rescue feels like an existential threat i.e. a bad plan. And that is because of our conditioning. The Spirit however asks us to stop the frantic running and to sit in the presence that heals and reorders.

However, it is precisely in this context that the body begins to object:

“If I sit still, I will lose control.”

This is why we (our bodies) have become so adept at avoiding God.

WHAT IS SALVATION, REALLY?

“Salvation” is a word with theological weight. Etymologically, the English comes from Latin salvare—to save, to preserve, to make whole. But salvation in Scripture goes deeper than rescue from punishment. It is restoration to relationship that heals the rest of our life. The church fathers pointed out that the crucial question is not “Where is God?” but “Where are we?”—because salvation is primarily relational: reconnected to the life-giver.

IF SURVIVAL IS THE DEFAULT FACTORY SETTING, THEN CHRISTIANITY IS THE UPGRADE. THE NEW CREATION IS POWERED BY THE SPIRIT OF GOD (PRESENCE) NOT EFFORT.

2 CORINTHIANS 5:17

In Hebrew thinking, the human creature is formed of nephesh, ruach, and guf—soul/breath/Spirit and body (cf. GEn. 2:7, 1 Thes. 5:23, Heb. 4:12). Salvation touches all of those, but its primary work is to reawaken the ruach (spirit) so that we can perceive and access spiritual realities. When we are spiritually nourished—when Scripture and presence feed the spirit—the body follows. The reverse rarely works.

WHY YOUR BRAIN HATES STILLNESS (AND WHY THAT’S THE POINT)

The body experiences sitting still as a threat. To sit is to stop the defensive choreography that keeps us “safe.”

Add to that the cultural idol of busyness and you get a recipe for a starving spirit. The practice I press you towards is embarrassingly simple: sit down, intentionally, and say, “God, here I am.” Don’t plan clever prayers, don’t try to produce a mystical experience. Sit. Quiet your hands. Breathe. Let the posture of surrender be the sermon. Let God attend to you.

This is not magical thinking. It is spiritual training. Like a plant that is wilting and needs water, we cannot expect instantaneous overhaul. We water, we wait, we come back, and the plant recovers. We don’t know how, but it works. The spiritual life is like that. We soak in the presence, our spirit soaks it/Him up and is rejuvenated.

PRACTICAL STEPS TOWARD RE-ORIENTATION

Let me offer a few practices that I have found (and failed and found again). They are straightforward and they require repetition.

1. Start with time and place. Choose a chair, a corner, a room. Make it the place where you come to be with God. Habit matters. Fifteen minutes to begin with—even if your body complains—is enough to start rewiring attention.
2. Speak the simplest intention. “God, here I am.” That is enough. The aim is presence, not performance.
3. Read Scripture as food, not information. Look for promises you can internalise. Memorise a verse about faith and let it live in your imagination. The Bible says, “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord” (Matthew 4:4, KJV). Eat the word, feed your spirit.
4. Notice your bodily resistances. When your mind races, name what it is afraid of. Fear often disguises itself as strategy. Thank it, set it down, and return to presence.
5. Persevere with patience. The plant does not spring up the moment you water it. It takes a little time but it works. It’s cumulative, and usually unseen at first. But with 24hrs you will already feel the change.

SCRIPTURE SUPPORT (SOME KEY PASSAGES)

I will reference a handful of scriptures that have steadied me:

• Romans 1:16: “The power of GOd saves all who believe.” If you believe you don’t strive, you rest.
• Romans 12:2: “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” (NIV) Transformation depends on an updated accurate map of reality.
• 2 Corinthians 12:9: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (NIV)
• Zechariah 4:6: “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts.” (KJV) This is the theological hinge: God’s economy vs. human hustle.
• Matthew 11:28–30: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden… and ye shall find rest unto your souls.” (KJV) Jesus’ invitation to rest is literal and practical.
• Romans 8:5–6: “For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh… but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit. For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.” (KJV) Paul maps the difference between bodily survival and spiritual life.
• Psalm 42:1–2: “As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.” The longing metaphor reminds us that thirst is cured by presence.
• John 10:10: “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.” (KJV) The promise: life in quality and fullness, not mere sustainability.

These are not theoretical statements. They offer a set of practical cues: cease striving, seek rest, feed your spirit.

WHAT RASHI AND MATTHEW HENRY REMIND US

When I look at the tradition, two voices have been particularly helpful for me because they refuse to let faith become abstract.

Rashi (the medieval Jewish commentator) insists in his readings that Scripture is not merely moralistic prose but living speech: God’s words create and order reality. In the Genesis readings Rashi often highlights the immediacy of God’s presence—that creation responds to the divine speech. Practically, this pushes us to treat the word as active, not inert.

Matthew Henry (the Puritan commentator) repeatedly stresses the practical disciple of waiting on God. He writes (paraphrasing his abundant counsel): spiritual strength is often increased in the posture of quiet dependence, and habitual practice of sitting in God’s presence develops spiritual senses. Henry’s pastoral tone always returns to the practical: how should we live? His answer is always: attend to God.

Both voices converge on one point: the Scriptures are not an instruction manual for self-help. They are an invitation to be re-membered—put back into the living presence.

THE ROLE OF LANGUAGE AND IDENTITY

We often talk in terms of “giving our life to the Lord.” I’ve come to see how misleading that can be if we treat it as a single event. In Hebrew thought, identity is formed continually by habit, speech and ritual. The inner map is rewritten whenever we practice a new way of speaking to ourselves and to God. The Scriptures give us new language to inhabit: promises, names, metaphors. Repeating those words—not as magic, but as formation—rewires the heart.

If you are used to saying “I’m anxious,” notice how often you repeat that phrase. Replace it slowly with: “I choose to rest in God.” It is small. It is not immediate. But language forms the map.

THE DANGER OF INFANTILISATION AND THE CALL TO MATURE REST

One of the saddest patterns I see is churches that mother where the soul needs mentoring. Christian communities sometimes feed people only encouragement and never the rigour of formation. The result is a crowd of adults who remain dependent, waiting for someone else to tell them what to feel or do.

Mature faith is not rugged individualism. It is adult dependence: the choice to stand on the spiritual feet God has given. That requires instruction, example, and a steady practice of presence. We need more ministers who say: “Here is a practice. Do it daily. Then you will have fruit.”

Not the quick fix, but the diligent formation. A sip of milk once a week will not sustain you let alone empower you to thrive.

ON HEALING, FAITH, AND THE IRRATIONALITY OF SPIRITUAL THINGS

Remember that faith, prayer, God, things like supernatural healing are all “nonsense” to the body—that is, “non-sense”. This is not an insult; it’s a diagnosis. The body interprets spiritual claims with the same machinery that interprets physical threats: with suspicion. The spiritual realm is unfamiliar territory to the body and its senses; it doesn’t know how to orient itself within that framework. In essence it doesn’t have the map for spiritual reality or the tools to navigate within this context, thus it feels threatening.

The physical senses are exquisitely designed to perceive and navigate the physical world, but are useless to perceive spiritual reality. That is why faith looks unreasonable to the sensesRemember that faith, prayer, God, things like supernatural healing are all “nonsense” to the body—that is, “non-sense”. This is not an insult; it’s a diagnosis. The body interprets spiritual claims with the same machinery that interprets physical threats: with suspicion. The physical senses are exquisitely designed to perceive and navigate the physical world, but are useless to perceive spiritual reality. That is why faith looks unreasonable to the senses.they were never designed for that purpose.

But Scripture repeatedly calls us to act against the immediate evidence. Abraham left home on a promise. The Israelites crossed the sea. The gospel says the kingdom comes in ways that confound the world. Practically, this means practising trust even when your senses say otherwise. It is not reckless; it is trained attention.

DEVOTIONAL PRAYER

Lord, here I am. I bring no cleverness, only a heart that is tired and a will that chooses to come. Teach me to sit in your presence until my bones remember how to be still. Feed my spirit with your word. Make my hands obedient to small mercies. Help me re-order my map, that I might move through the world no longer driven by fear but guided by your Spirit. In my active weakness, show your power. In silence, speak. In my wandering, draw me home. Your grace is sufficient for me because Your grace is all your riches in Christ. Amen.

FIVE QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

1. When I say “I” in ordinary sentences, who is speaking—my body, my habit, or my spirit? Give one concrete example from the last 24 hours.
2. What is one promise of Scripture I can memorise this week to feed my spirit (cf. Matt. 4:4)?
3. Where in my routine can I carve out fifteen minutes of sitting in God’s presence? How will I protect that appointment?
4. What habitual behaviour—small but recurrent—reveals that I am living from survival rather than rest? How might I begin to replace it?
5. Who in my life can speak honestly to my spiritual formation (not merely encouragement)? Can I invite them into accountability?

PARTING WORDS

We live in fast, fracturing times. Our culture rewards speed, planning and consumption. Our bodies value risk management and damage control. The church can too easily echo those rhythms. But Christianity—at its root—is an invitation to re-centre on the Christ in Christianity: to become people whose default is presence rather than panic. The pathway is both ancient and practical. It is the habit of sitting, listening, and being formed by the One who alone gives life.

This is not an escape from reality; it is the only way to meet reality with the power that sustains it. If you are tired of baby milk, if you ache for a faith that actually works in your life, start with the simple, stubborn practice of presence. Sit down. Say, “God, here I am.” Keep coming back. Let the Word be your food and the Spirit your drink. Over time—in days, months, seasons—the map inside you will change, and you will begin to move through the world not as a frightened traveller but as an heir of Heaven.

Remember it is not about effort or even more effort, it’s all about orientation.

You only have one of two choice: fight-or-flight or rest-and-digest. Which will it be?