There's a profound difference between crossing a finish line and standing at a starting line. Yet when it comes to our spiritual lives, many of us treat salvation as the end of the race rather than the beginning. We receive forgiveness, secure our "ticket to heaven," and then wonder why we feel stuck, powerless, and perpetually ashamed of our failures.
What if the entire framework we've been using is wrong?
The Invitation to Rest
Jesus offers an invitation that sounds almost too good to be true: "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Matthew 11:28-30).
Be honest with yourself for a moment. Does your spiritual life feel easy? Do you experience rest? Or does it feel like a constant struggle, a never-ending cycle of trying harder, failing, and drowning in shame?
For most of us, the Christian life feels anything but easy. We white-knuckle our way through temptations, beat ourselves up over repeated failures, and secretly wonder if we're really saved at all. The disconnect between Jesus's promise and our experience isn't because Jesus was wrong—it's because we've misunderstood what spiritual growth actually is.
The Training Mindset vs. The Trying Mindset
Here's the game-changer: spiritual formation isn't about trying harder. It's about training smarter.
Think about an athlete preparing for a marathon. On day one, they can't run 26 miles. If they tried, they'd fail spectacularly and probably injure themselves. But do they give up? No. They train. They run a mile, then two, then five. They fail repeatedly—their lungs burn, their legs cramp, they have to stop and walk. But they don't see these moments as failures that disqualify them. They see them as part of the training process.
The apostle Paul understood this perfectly. He told Timothy, "Train yourself to be godly. For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come" (1 Timothy 4:7-8). Notice he didn't say "try to be godly." He said train.
At the end of his life, Paul reflected: "I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I have kept the faith" (2 Timothy 4:7). He viewed his entire spiritual life as a long-distance race requiring consistent training, not a sprint requiring momentary willpower.
The Trap of Performance
So why do we keep falling into the trying trap? Because we're seeking God's approval when we already have it.
Remember the story of the prodigal son? We always focus on the younger brother who left, squandered his inheritance, and came crawling back. But the older brother reveals an equally dangerous trap. He stayed home, followed all the rules, and then exploded in anger when his father celebrated the younger brother's return: "I've always obeyed you! Where's my party?"
The father's response cuts to the heart: "You've always been with me. Everything I have is yours." In other words, "Son, you already had my approval. You were working to earn what you already possessed."
This is the religious trap that ensnares so many of us. We read our Bibles to earn points with God. We serve at church to prove our worthiness. We avoid certain sins to maintain God's love. But here's the revolutionary truth: God does not love you more when you do right. God will never love you more than He does right now.
Grace as Fuel, Not Just Forgiveness
We tend to think of grace as the thing that saved us at the beginning—a one-time transaction. But Scripture presents grace as so much more. Titus 2:11-12 says, "For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. It teaches us to say no to ungodliness and worldly passions and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in this present age."
Grace teaches us. Grace is our ongoing fuel, not just our initial rescue.
Consider a sailboat. The wind (the Holy Spirit's grace) is the only source of power. Our spiritual disciplines—prayer, study, worship, community—are the sails. We cannot create the wind. We cannot manufacture grace. But if we hoist our sails, we position ourselves to catch the wind that's already blowing. The boat moves forward not by our power, but by the wind's power working through our intentional positioning.
The question isn't whether the Spirit is strong enough. The question is: are we raising our sails?
The Power of Unlearning
One of the most challenging aspects of spiritual formation is unlearning. We hold onto beliefs, habits, and mindsets formed by our culture, our upbringing, and our early misunderstandings of Scripture. Some of us were told we're not good enough, smart enough, or spiritual enough. We believed lies about who God is and who we are.
The Pharisees struggled with this. They were experts in Scripture, yet they missed the Messiah standing right in front of them. Why? Because they refused to unlearn their incorrect understanding. Paul, himself a former Pharisee, had to spend years rethinking everything he thought he knew.
Romans 12:2 commands us: "Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind." Transformation requires a willingness to let go of old patterns, old lies, and old misunderstandings—even ones we learned in church.
The Role of Community
Here's an uncomfortable truth: we cannot be fully formed in isolation. The Bible consistently presents spiritual growth as happening in community. We need safe spaces where we can be "true-faced"—where who we are in public matches who we are in private.
This is terrifying. We've been hurt by church. We've been judged, misunderstood, and rejected. The thought of being vulnerable again feels like too much risk. But without authentic community, we remain stuck in our cycles of shame and isolation.
True community doesn't mean perfect people who never fail each other. It means imperfect people committed to being safe for one another, to carrying one another's burdens, to confessing to one another, and to growing together.
The Aroma of Christ
In ancient times, perfume was made by cooking various ingredients—some quite unpleasant—in a crucible. The goal wasn't the ingredients themselves but the beautiful aroma they produced when combined and refined.
Scripture speaks of believers as "the aroma of Christ" (2 Corinthians 2:15). When your life is "unbottled," does the fragrance of Christ fill the room? Not through performance or pretense, but through genuine transformation?
You don't have to try to make perfume smell good. It just does. It naturally fills every space it touches. When we are truly being formed into Christ's likeness, we don't have to manufacture spiritual fruit. It flows naturally from who we're becoming.
Moving Forward
As we step into a new year, resist the temptation to make typical resolutions based on willpower and trying harder. Instead, ask yourself: What am I doing to raise my sails? How am I positioning myself to catch the wind of God's grace?
This might mean:
Starting a prayer journal to track God's faithfulness
Finding a community where you can be authentic
Engaging in spiritual disciplines not to earn God's love but to position yourself to receive more of what He's already giving
Being patient with yourself, recognizing that transformation is a lifelong process
Remember Philippians 2:12-13: "Continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose." You have a part to play, but God is the one doing the transforming work.
You're not at the finish line. You're at the starting line of a beautiful, challenging, grace-fueled marathon. And the One who started this good work in you will be faithful to complete it.
So stop trying. Start training. And watch as God's grace transforms you into the image of Christ—one small step, one raised sail, one act of obedience at a time.