Most people who embrace faith share a common desire: they want their lives to reflect God’s purpose. They long to see genuine transformation in their thoughts and actions, becoming the kind of spouse, parent, colleague, friend, and Christian that honors the Lord.

If this resonates with you, I offer one simple piece of advice: focus on the small things. Profound transformation happens not through grand gestures, but through consistently choosing small acts of faithfulness.

Read one chapter of your Bible a day. Spend a couple of minutes in prayer each day. Allow someone in front of you in traffic with joy. Sit at the front of a Church program so that latecomers can have a seat at the back. Open the door for someone else. Pick up a piece of trash whenever you think, “someone should do something about that.”

These small actions serve as training for your heart and mind, gradually reorienting you toward God and others. They’re like spiritual exercises that strengthen your capacity for love and service.

When I observe someone engaging in these quiet acts of faithfulness, I recognize the evidence of God’s work in the hidden places of their life. Conversely, when these opportunities are consistently overlooked, it often signals a heart that remains closed to growth.

The beauty lies not in the size of the action, but in the faithfulness behind it. Small steps, taken consistently, create the pathway for God’s transforming work in our lives.

One of the most freeing realizations in the Christian life is this: your spiritual journey with God is uniquely yours.

It’s easy to look at others, such as pastors, mentors, friends, or even online influencers, and assume your walk with God should resemble theirs. Maybe they wake up at 5 a.m. to read Scripture, or they seem to have an unshakable prayer routine, or they’ve had dramatic conversion moments. You might feel like you’re behind, out of step, or even failing.

But your story with God was never meant to be a copy-and-paste experience.

God knows your background. He knows the wounds you carry, the culture you grew up in, the personality He gave you, and the journey you’ve already walked. All those shape how He speaks to you, leads you, and forms you more into the image of Christ.

Yes, we share the same Savior and the same Gospel. But how God meets us, teaches us, and refines us will look different for each of us.

Some grow through stillness. Others through action. Some walk through years of silence before a breakthrough. Others feel God’s nearness from the beginning. Some stumble often. Some walk steadily. But every path is sacred if it’s drawing us closer to God.

Don’t despise your path. Don’t rush it or compare it. Walk it faithfully. God is writing a story in you that’s like no one else’s, and it’s beautiful.

Helping others is at the heart of Christian love. But what if our good intentions don’t actually help?

Recently, a group of kind-hearted people offered to assist me with a project. Their willingness to serve was genuine and deeply appreciated. The problem wasn’t their heart; it was the approach. Instead of asking what I needed, they jumped in with how they thought they could help.

It reminded me of an important truth: Helping isn’t about what makes us feel useful; instead, it’s about what benefits the other person. Sometimes the best thing we can say is, “Tell me what you need,” and then do that without adding or altering the plan.

Serving others like Jesus means humility, patience, and the willingness to follow, not just lead. Let’s be people who not only offer help but do it well.

Never underestimate the value of doing small things for others.

Buy a coworker their favorite drink.

Send a text to a random contact and let them know you’re praying for them today.

Offer to take a picture for the couple trying to get a selfie.

Smile.

Offer an encouraging word to an elementary student.

Give a special treat to someone, like Starbucks or Crumbl, just because you can.

There are a thousand thoughtful things you can do if you open your eyes to the people around you.

You will never know the amount of joy you bring to someone with small, thoughtful actions. I know this is true because of how these things have affected me. And you know I am right.

Growth leaves evidence. When a child grows taller, the pencil marks on the bedroom doorframe tell the story. When someone builds muscle, the mirror reflects the change. When a student is gaining knowledge, test scores reveal their progress.

The same principle applies to spiritual development.

Yet many believers measure their spiritual growth solely by their feelings. While emotions matter, they don’t tell the complete story. True growth, whether physical or spiritual, produces tangible evidence.

Consider this: if your relationship with God is genuinely deepening over time, that growth should manifest in observable ways.

Look for these markers: Has your engagement with Scripture increased? Are you applying biblical principles more consistently in daily decisions? Do you find yourself naturally serving others without being asked? Has your generosity with time, resources, and grace expanded? Are your relationships with fellow believers becoming more authentic and supportive?

Here’s the crucial insight: we often give ourselves credit for good intentions while judging others solely by their actions. But authentic spiritual maturity bridges this gap. When our hearts truly change, our actions follow. The transformation becomes visible not just to us, but to those around us.
Real spiritual growth isn’t just something you feel; it’s something others can witness and experience through your life.

There’s something profound that happens when we truly acknowledge another person’s presence. Recognition transforms strangers into friends and makes the invisible feel visible again. In our hurried world, the simple act of noticing someone can be life-changing.

“I’m so glad our paths crossed today.”

“I don’t think we’ve met. What’s your name, and I’d love to know more about you.”

“Come sit with us.”

“We’re grabbing lunch together. Want to come along?”

“I’m hosting something special this weekend. I would love to have you join us.”

“I’m already looking forward to our next conversation.”

These aren’t just polite exchanges. They’re acts of recognition that cut through the noise of modern life. When someone feels overlooked or forgotten, your attention becomes a gift. When the world rushes past them, your pause to truly see them can shift everything.

The beauty lies in how effortless these moments can be for us, yet how transformative they become for others. In a culture obsessed with being heard, there’s revolutionary power in helping others feel seen.

We all have skills that have become so automatic they feel effortless. Whether it’s driving a familiar route, preparing a favorite recipe, or tying our shoes, these abilities flow from us without conscious thought. We’ve practiced them so many times that they’ve become an integral part of who we are.

I think of the countless fishing knots I’ve tied over the years. My fingers know the movements so well that failing eyesight barely slows me down. The same thing can be seen when I am cleaning and preparing fish. The motions that once required careful attention now happen almost instinctively.

This kind of deep integration is what mature faith looks like. When someone has walked with God for years, Scripture naturally flavors their conversations. Prayer becomes their instinctive response to both crisis and celebration. Acts of service flow from them not as forced obligations, but as genuine expressions of who they’ve become.

Of course, spiritual disciplines don’t typically begin in this way. Early attempts at consistent Bible reading can feel mechanical. Initial prayers might seem awkward or one-sided. Choosing to serve others often requires pushing through our natural self-focus. This struggle is normal as we develop our spiritual reflexes.

However, persistence transforms these efforts. Regular time spent in God’s Word gradually shapes how we think and speak. Consistent prayer develops into an ongoing conversation with our Creator. Repeated acts of service cultivate hearts that naturally notice and respond to others’ needs.

Perhaps the most heartbreaking sight in the Church is a longtime believer who still approaches their faith with hesitation and uncertainty. After years of following Jesus, one would expect a growing naturalness to their spiritual life and an increasing fluency in the language of faith.

The goal isn’t spiritual performance or perfection, but authentic transformation. When faith becomes second nature, it’s not because we’re trying harder, but because we’ve been changed from the inside out over the course of our lives.

Christians don’t often admit this, but we have a list of sins that we find appalling and another that we find, well, acceptable. Some behaviors make us recoil in judgment, while others barely register on our moral radar.

We speak out against sexual immorality, violence, and addiction, and rightly so. But what about gossip, pride, greed, materialism, and unforgiveness? These are often ignored or even excused. A sharp tongue can be passed off as personality. An unforgiving spirit is dismissed as “boundaries.” Envy is rebranded as ambition. We minimize what makes us uncomfortable to acknowledge.

But sin is sin. What God calls unrighteous doesn’t become acceptable simply because it’s socially tolerated. The cross doesn’t just cover the “big” sins; it was necessary for every single one. Jesus’ death covers both the scandals that shock us and the quiet cancer that eats away at our hearts.

The call of Christ is not to be selectively holy, but wholly surrendered. Instead of excusing our “acceptable” sins, maybe it’s time we repent of them.

Because holiness isn’t about looking good, it’s about being made new in every way.

Lately, I have been pondering this speech I heard in a movie.

“In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends.”

                                                -Anton Ego in Ratatouille

I pulled open the drawer, looking for a pair of scissors. Inside was a collection of miscellaneous items that were no longer in use. As I looked at each one, I could remember a time in the past 11 years when they had been used in our Church.

There were can openers for when the ladies used to make extravagant fellowship dinners. There was a label maker for when people were fighting for cabinet space, and everything needed to have its specific designated area. There were notecards and a marker for labeling everything for a child with nut allergies. One by one, I was reminded of how all these tools were once necessary for a ministry season, but now they are stuffed in a drawer, serving no purpose.

Every Church ministry is seasonal. There are times when things need to be purchased and maintained to maximize outreach and discipleship. If you visit any Church and look through their drawers, cabinets, and closets, you will find a wide variety of items that are relics of past ministries.

The difficulty in ministry is knowing when to let ministries die when they are no longer needed. Then, retiring the tools that are presently worthless. And keep pushing into the future.

A Church building should be a facility used to take Jesus to new people while developing today’s disciples. It is never to be a museum used to house old relics of a once-vibrant church.