The Chase
Front row every night. Hands up, tears down, journal full. I measured God by how much I felt — and I felt a lot. For a while, it worked.
The story
I was addicted to the altar call, not the Author.
The Crash
Then came a Tuesday with no worship band. No lights, no crowd, no goosebumps. And I realized I had built a faith that could not survive an ordinary week.
The Turn
John 15 wrecked me. Jesus never told me to chase Him harder. He told me to remain. Fruit was never something I could manufacture — it was something I received.
The Abide
Now I live attached instead of amped. Quieter, slower, deeper — and honestly, more alive than any conference high ever made me.
