This post is part of a series where I present my approach to discipleship and spiritual formation, which I call Slow Cooker Faith.

Click the links below for previous entries:
Slow cooker faith, part 1: “on fire” for Jesus?

When I was “on fire” for Jesus, I was always very busy. And I would often be going to big Christian events, conferences, concerts, weekend retreats, reading the latest book, etc.

There was always something going on or something to do to keep my fire going.

I’ve read that during WWII, the Germans used to keep their soldiers hopped up on amphetamines to keep them going. I’ve also heard that’s why when you watch Hitler’s speeches he always sounds like he’s about to pop.

I am certainly not trying to compare popular Christian culture as it was twenty something years ago to the Nazis. However, it does seem, looking back, as if they were trying to use artificial means to keep us “on fire.”

When your fire would begin to wane, well—there’s bellows to kindle that. A pep talk. A guilt trip. A well-crafted immersive worship experience.

It was all designed, one way or another, to encourage you … not just to keep you to keep slogging through … but to not be content.

Yes—that’s what it was. It didn’t want us to be content with our faith.

I don’t think they meant for this to happen, but I know myself and others ended up unintentionally violated the Tenth Commandment. Why? Because we coveted that person’s—whoever was pumping the bellows—experiences, their energy, their sold-outness.

As my fire began to wane, I would seek out the speakers, the music, the kind of events that used to keep me kindled.

They didn’t anymore. In fact—they usually just left me emptier and colder than I had been.

I came to realize that the vision of the Christian life I had been sold was one where you needed constant booster shots to inoculate you against complacency.

But one day they stopped working.

And so I began to ask myself: If this is how the Christian life is supposed to work, how did all those Christians survive for all those centuries we weren’t doing all these things?

The answer didn’t come immediately. I often came back to the question over the course of about fifteen years.

But I would sometimes still revisit my old spiritual stomping grounds, hoping against hope that maybe this time I would somehow recapture the magic and re-acquire the old fire.

I never did.