231 The Unnatural World

Navigating the disconnect between religious performance and the intimate relationship required to stand firm when the storm rains down

Apr 13, 2026

I woke up. That is the only way I know how to say it. In one way or another, the scales fell from my eyes. I see the world differently now. I hear it differently. I experience it differently. The world as I knew it is no longer. While much of it seems familiar, it suddenly feels unnatural. All of it.

This awakening is not a gentle sunrise. It is a stark light switched on in a room you thought you knew, revealing shapes and shadows you never noticed. The furniture is the same, but the feeling is all wrong. You walk through your days a stranger in a land that looks like home.

When this happens, we do not all walk the same road. Some will hear a different call. They will follow teachings of this or that, of which there are many to choose from. But some of you, like me, will feel a different pull on your spirit. You will choose the narrow path of our Lord and Savior, Christ Jesus. You choose the way.

But I must tell you a hard truth. Choosing the path is only the first step. Staying on it is the lifelong work.

Jesus warned us plainly. “For false christs and false prophets will arise and perform great signs and wonders, so as to lead astray, if possible, even the elect” (Matthew 24:24 ESV). Did you catch that? Even the elect. He tells us not to run after whispers in the wilderness or secrets in inner rooms. His coming will be unmistakable, like lightning across the sky.

Yet, here is the subtle trap. Even for those of us on the narrow path, we can be led astray. Often, it is not a dramatic, intentional rejection of our Creator. It is a quiet series of easier choices. More convenient decisions. Less disruptive compromises.

We continue the performances. We wear the right clothes. We speak the right words. We show up, we sing, we recite. But we have not sought out the Father. We have not labored to establish the intimate, personal relationship He yearns for with His children. We miss the heart of the command: “You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart” (Deuteronomy 6:5-6 ESV).

In failing to do this, we unwittingly enroll in a system. We join a religion created by men, often aligned with power, that has coincidentally mapped itself onto a walk that looks right but leads somewhere else. It is the wide, convenient path dressed in sacred clothing.

John called out this spirit in his day, and it shouts to us now. “The world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever. Children, it is the last hour, and as you have heard that antichrist is coming, so now many antichrists have come... They went out from us, but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would have continued with us” (1 John 2:17-19 ESV). The liar is the one who denies Jesus is the Christ. That denial is not always a shouted blasphemy. Sometimes it is a quiet life that looks Christian but seeks a kingdom of self.

The lies of these systems are repeated for a generation. Then two. Soon, they become truth. The deception is ancient, reaching back to the garden. Without the guidance of the Father through His Spirit, no human intellect is keen enough to untangle it. No eyes are sharp enough to see where God’s truth ends and man’s lie begins.

I have lived just over five decades. In that short time, by God’s grace, I have watched a lie repeated become a majority opinion. I have watched that opinion harden into accepted truth. If I can see this shift in fifty years, I tremble to think of the depth of the enemy’s deception. He has had centuries. Millennia. He is an expert at making his path look comfortable, reasonable, and right.

Daniel saw a vision of one who “shall speak words against the Most High, and shall wear out the saints of the Most High, and shall think to change the times and the law; and they shall be given into his hand for a time, times, and half a time” (Daniel 7:25 ESV). We are warned. The devil has come down to us in great wrath, because he knows his time is short (Revelation 12:12 ESV).

This is what was on my mind this morning, amidst the chaos of recent days. A voice from heaven echoes in my spirit: “Come out of her, my people, lest you take part in her sins, lest you share in her plagues” (Revelation 18:4 ESV).

This past week has pressed these words into my soul like a brand. A dear friend concluded his long battle with cancer. My mother suffered another series of strokes. The body is a decaying tent, and hers is failing. Her spirit, the light behind her eyes, is fading to a dim flicker. We pray. I make her comfortable. I hold her hand.

When her time comes, I do not know what greeting she will receive. I hope for the “well done.” I fear the other.

This is the crucible. As self-proclaiming Christians, we recite our prayers. We say the right things to each other. But we do not know if these performances are hollow until the tables of our lives are flipped over. We do not know until the storm rains down. It is only then we get the true measure of our walk. Was it righteous? Were we moving, speaking, working, and living for Him, or for the approval of a system?

This is why Paul’s urgent plea in Thessalonians hits me like a physical force now. “Finally, then, brothers, we ask and urge you in the Lord Jesus, that as you received from us how you ought to walk and to please God, just as you are doing, that you do so more and more... For this is the will of God, your sanctification” (1 Thessalonians 5:1, 3 ESV). Our walk must be one of increasing holiness, honoring God with our bodies, loving our brothers and sisters. This is not rule-keeping. It is the evidence of a life turned toward the light.

When the storm came for my friend, for my mother, for me, the rituals offered no shelter. The recited words provided no warmth. Only the raw, practiced habit of turning my face to the Father held. Only the stubborn, daily choice to believe He is good, even when my world is pain.

Our days are a sigh. “The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away” (Psalm 90:10 ESV). This is not pessimism. It is clarity. It is the foundation of wisdom. “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12 ESV).

My wisdom today is this: the unnatural feeling you have about the world after your awakening is not a defect in you. It is a signpost. You are sensing the disconnect between the kingdom of this world and the Kingdom of God. The path feels narrow because it is. The way feels disruptive because it is. The systems will feel wrong because they are.

Do not let the relentless, comfortable pressure of the unnatural world smooth your edges back down. Do not trade the terrifying, vibrant reality of a relationship with the living God for the safe, hollow performance of religion.

Come out of her, my people.

Love the Lord with all your heart, soul, and might.

Walk in a way that pleases Him, more and more.

Number your few days.

And when the storm comes, as it will, may your house be founded on the rock of knowing Him, not just knowing about Him.

That is all, and thank you for reading.

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