Author: Richard L. Fricks

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “The Undeviating Test”, promises that God operates by an “eternal law” where “life serves you back in the coin you pay,” claiming judgmental people will face divine retribution while the truly righteous recognize their own capacity for evil through grace.

Here’s what this divine law actually delivered:

“Life serves you back in the coin you pay,” the accountability group leader warned. “If you judge others harshly, God will judge you the same way. The truly righteous person recognizes they’re capable of the same sins they criticize.”

Robert absorbed this teaching completely, believing it revealed how God’s justice operated in the world. He became paralyzingly careful about criticizing others, convinced that harsh judgments would boomerang back through divine law.

When colleagues cut corners at work or lied to customers, Robert stayed silent. When he witnessed financial irregularities, he looked the other way. Speaking up would trigger God’s retributive judgment against his own character flaws, wouldn’t it? The eternal law demanded spiritual humility, not moral oversight.

This divine caution created a sickening dynamic. Robert watched unethical behavior flourish while he remained passive, believing that calling out wrongdoing would invoke punishment for his own imperfections. The promised “eternal law” made him complicit in harm he could have prevented.

His coworker Sarah took a radically different approach. As a former prosecutor, she understood accountability practically, not spiritually. When Sarah witnessed fraud or negligence, she documented it and reported it through proper channels—not from moral superiority but because organizations require functional oversight.

Sarah didn’t worry about divine retribution for holding people accountable. She recognized that pointing out problems was often the most compassionate response for everyone involved, including those who needed intervention before facing serious consequences.

When federal auditors eventually exposed their company’s financial irregularities, Robert felt vindicated. Surely those who had been “shrewd in finding defects” would face divine retribution while his gracious silence would be rewarded by God’s eternal law.

The opposite happened.

Investigators commended Sarah for her detailed reports and ethical vigilance. Her willingness to document problems had limited damage and protected pension funds. Robert’s spiritual passivity had enabled harm to continue longer than necessary.

Where was the divine retribution for Sarah’s “judgmental” behavior? Where was God’s reward for Robert’s humble non-judgment? The eternal law that was supposed to punish those who held others accountable never materialized.

Sarah’s career flourished because she’d demonstrated integrity and professional competence. Robert faced uncomfortable questions about why he’d remained silent when he could have prevented harm.

The breakthrough came when Robert realized that calling out genuine problems wasn’t hypocritical judgment—it was ethical responsibility. Functional oversight served protection and accountability, not self-righteous condemnation.

The divine retribution system he’d feared was completely imaginary. Good outcomes came to those who addressed problems constructively, not to those who stayed passive out of spiritual terror.

The silence where God’s eternal law was supposed to operate revealed the truth: there was no cosmic justice system rewarding non-judgment or punishing accountability. Just human consequences for human choices.

Reflection Question: When has addressing problems directly been more effective than staying silent out of concern about being judgmental?

This story is part of my upcoming book “The Undevoted: Daily Departures from Divine Dependence,” which offers 365 human-centered alternatives to the spiritual certainties in Chambers’ devotional. Each day explores how reason, community, and human resilience can address life’s challenges without requiring divine intervention.

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “A Royal Priesthood”, promises that believers who accept the atonement become “a royal priesthood” with special divine access, claiming God will free them from “morbid self-focus” and transform them into effective intercessors who are “perfect in Christ Jesus.”

Here’s what royal priesthood actually offered:

“You’re chosen, set apart,” his campus pastor insisted. “Accept the atonement as absolute gift, stop the morbid self-focus, and launch into intercessory prayer. God will free you from thinking about yourself and transform you into his royal priest.”

Daniel was drowning in anxiety and depression during his sophomore year, but this spiritual identity felt like a lifeline. Instead of dwelling on his mental health struggles, he would focus on praying for others. This royal priestly calling would lift him above psychological problems and give his life supernatural purpose.

Hours each day interceding for roommates, classmates, professors, family members. Whenever anxiety or depressive thoughts surfaced, Daniel redirected to prayer for others, believing this demonstrated his right relationship with God and activated his priestly authority.

But the promised transformation was a cruel joke. Daniel’s anxiety escalated despite faithful intercession. His depression deepened even as he maintained his royal priestly identity. The self-centered concerns he was supposed to transcend became more persistent, more suffocating.

Finals week brought the breaking point—his first panic attack. Hyperventilating in his dorm room, royal priesthood felt completely meaningless. Where was the divine freedom from morbid self-focus? Where was the special relationship with God that was supposed to elevate him above ordinary human struggles?

The chosen, set-apart identity crumbled in the face of simple biochemistry.

His roommate Marcus took a radically different approach to mental health. No claims of royal priesthood or special divine access. When Marcus felt overwhelmed, he used campus counseling. Practiced mindfulness. Maintained regular exercise. Took prescribed medication when anxiety became unmanageable.

Marcus treated his mental health like any other aspect of wellbeing requiring professional attention and practical strategies. No supernatural identity needed.

When Daniel finally sought therapy after his panic attack, his counselor didn’t discuss spiritual identity or intercessory calling. She helped him understand anxiety as a treatable condition, not spiritual failure or inadequate faith.

The breakthrough came when Daniel stopped trying to pray his way out of mental health struggles and started using evidence-based treatments. Cognitive-behavioral therapy gave him practical tools for managing anxious thoughts. Regular counseling provided sustainable emotional regulation strategies.

His recovery had zero connection to royal priesthood or special relationship with God through atonement. It came through professional mental health care and evidence-based treatments that worked regardless of spiritual identity.

The “freedom from morbid self-focus” came not from divine transformation but from learning healthy ways to address legitimate psychological needs. The royal priestly authority proved completely powerless against actual mental health challenges.

The silence where God’s priestly transformation was supposed to manifest revealed the truth: there was no supernatural identity to claim, no divine authority to access, no special relationship to activate.

Just human struggles requiring human solutions.

Reflection Question: When has professional mental health care been more effective than spiritual identity and intercessory prayer in addressing psychological struggles?

This story is part of my upcoming book “The Undevoted: Daily Departures from Divine Dependence,” which offers 365 human-centered alternatives to the spiritual certainties in Chambers’ devotional. Each day explores how reason, community, and human resilience can address life’s challenges without requiring divine intervention.

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “Have You Come to ‘After’ Yet?”, promises that believers who stop self-centered pleading and shift to intercessory prayer for others will experience Job-like restoration of their fortunes, with God responding to selfless intercession by restoring circumstances.

Here’s what happened when someone actually tried this:

“Stop the self-centered pleading,” her pastor insisted. “Job’s fortunes were restored after he prayed for his friends. That’s God’s pattern—when we stop trying to get right with him and start interceding for others, he restores our circumstances.”

Jennifer’s small business had collapsed during the pandemic. Foreclosure loomed. Her family was drowning financially. But instead of begging God for rescue, she would follow Job’s example and pray for everyone else.

She made lists. Neighbors, former employees, distant relatives, old college friends. Hours each day in intercessory prayer, believing this selfless shift would trigger the promised restoration. After all, the pattern was biblical—Job prayed for his friends, and God restored his fortunes.

Months crawled by. Jennifer faithfully interceded for others while her world crumbled. Foreclosure proceedings advanced. Her husband’s job search stalled. She kept waiting for the divine restoration that was supposed to follow her generous intercession.

Where was God’s response to her selfless prayers?

The house was lost. Her family squeezed into a cramped rental. Credit destroyed. The biblical pattern had apparently skipped her case entirely, despite months of faithful prayer for everyone except herself.

Her neighbor Carlos faced identical devastation when his restaurant failed. But Carlos didn’t wait for divine restoration after adjusting his prayer strategy. He immediately enrolled in a coding bootcamp, networked relentlessly in tech circles, applied for dozens of entry-level positions.

While Jennifer spent hours praying for other people’s breakthroughs, Carlos updated his LinkedIn profile. While she interceded for distant acquaintances, he reached out to former customers in different industries. While she waited for God to restore her fortunes, Carlos took a delivery job to cover expenses during retraining.

The “restoration” that came to Carlos wasn’t divine response to intercessory prayer. It was predictable result of aggressive networking and skill development. Eight months later: junior developer position with benefits and growth potential.

Jennifer watched this practical success with dawning clarity. She’d been waiting for heaven to reward her selfless prayers while Carlos had been creating opportunities through human effort and strategic planning.

Her breakthrough came when she stopped waiting for divine restoration and started copying Carlos. Digital marketing course. Business consulting based on her experience. Systematic professional networking. Persistent effort.

Her financial recovery had zero connection to accepting Christ’s atonement or shifting to intercessory prayer. It came through education, networking, determination—strategies that work regardless of prayer life or spiritual condition.

The silence where God’s restoration was supposed to be delivered the most valuable lesson: waiting for divine intervention while others solve problems through human agency is just another form of self-centered pleading.

The only pattern that actually worked was the one Carlos followed from day one: when life knocks you down, get up and build something new.

Reflection Question: When has taking practical action been more effective than waiting for divine restoration after changing your prayer focus?

This story is part of my upcoming book “The Undevoted: Daily Departures from Divine Dependence,” which offers 365 human-centered alternatives to the spiritual certainties in Chambers’ devotional. Each day explores how reason, community, and human resilience can address life’s challenges without requiring divine intervention.

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “The Service of Passionate Devotion”, promises that passionate personal devotion to Jesus provides supernatural endurance for service, preventing exhaustion and enabling disciples to transform landscapes through unobtrusive spiritual influence.

Here’s what passionate devotion actually delivered:

“Love Jesus personally and passionately,” his seminary professor had insisted, “and you’ll never burn out in ministry. That supernatural devotion will sustain you when human compassion falters.”

Pastor Michael planted his inner-city church believing this completely. Hours of worship and prayer each morning, cultivating what felt like intimate relationship with Jesus. This would be his secret weapon against the notorious burnout rate in urban ministry.

For two years, it seemed to work. Eighteen-hour days with homeless individuals, addicts, families in crisis—Michael felt carried by spiritual passion. When people screamed at him, stole from the church, relapsed after months of progress, he drew strength from his devotional connection to Christ.

Then the wheels came off.

The promised supernatural endurance evaporated. Michael hit the wall—severe depression, crushing cynicism, complete emotional exhaustion. His “passionate devotion” felt like talking to himself when faced with intractable poverty and untreated mental illness.

He begged Jesus for renewed spiritual fire. Prayed desperately for that sustaining presence to return.

Nothing. Absolute silence.

No divine renewal of passion. No supernatural love refreshing his compassion for increasingly difficult people. The very person he’d devoted his life to serving had apparently abandoned him when he needed that relationship most.

His friend Elena watched this spiritual collapse with familiar recognition. As a secular social worker in the same neighborhood, she’d seen plenty of religious burnout. But Elena had never expected supernatural sustenance from personal devotion to Jesus.

Instead, Elena worked within systems. She connected people to mental health services, housing assistance, job training. She maintained professional boundaries and took actual time off. When clients were hostile or relapsed, Elena didn’t interpret it as spiritual failure or relationship crisis with God.

Elena’s “transformation” wasn’t mystical kernels of wheat dying and sprouting. It was measurable: housing placements, completed treatment programs, successful job referrals. Her impact came through professional competence and sustainable practices, not passionate devotion to an invisible figure.

When Michael finally sought therapy for his depression, his counselor didn’t explore his relationship with Jesus. She helped him recognize burnout symptoms, establish healthy boundaries, develop realistic expectations for helping people with complex trauma.

The breakthrough came when Michael stopped waiting for divine renewal and started implementing actual self-care strategies. His effective ministry began not when he loved Jesus more deeply, but when he learned to work sustainably within human limitations.

The neighborhood transformation happened through policy advocacy, community organizing, evidence-based programs—not through unobtrusive devoted disciples mysteriously changing landscapes.

The passionate devotion that was supposed to sustain him? It had been devotion to silence all along.

Reflection Question: When has professional competence and sustainable practices been more effective than passionate devotion in serving others long-term?

This story is part of my upcoming book “The Undevoted: Daily Departures from Divine Dependence,” which offers 365 human-centered alternatives to the spiritual certainties in Chambers’ devotional. Each day explores how reason, community, and human resilience can address life’s challenges without requiring divine intervention.

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “Don’t Think Now, Take the Road”, promises that believers can navigate impossible circumstances through “reckless” faith and “complete reliance” on Jesus, with God’s voice becoming clearer through abandoning yourself to divine guidance.

Here’s what reckless faith actually looks like:

“Be reckless,” her small group leader insisted. “The second you sense God’s voice, fling yourself out in faith.”

Rebecca was drowning. Her husband had vanished, leaving her with three kids under eight and debt that made her nauseous. Late nights found her on her knees, begging for divine direction. When she felt that gentle impression to quit her part-time job and trust God for provision—wasn’t that the Lord calling her to reckless abandonment?

She gave two weeks’ notice. After all, Peter had walked on water by keeping his eyes on Jesus instead of circumstances. Rebecca would do the same.

Weeks passed. No miraculous checks appeared. No unexpected job offers materialized. No financial gifts from mysterious strangers. Her small group assured her that doubt would sink her like Peter, so she smiled and claimed God’s faithfulness while her utilities got disconnected.

Where was the divine provision? The voice that had seemed so clear went silent exactly when she needed it most. Bills piled up. Her kids started asking why the refrigerator was empty. Eviction notices arrived.

Still, silence from heaven.

Her neighbor Kim had watched this spiritual train wreck with increasing alarm. Kim knew crisis intimately—she’d been abandoned by her ex with two children five years earlier. But Kim had never waited for God’s voice to guide her next move.

Instead, Kim worked two jobs. She maintained brutal budgets. She saved methodically for emergencies. When Rebecca’s car got repossessed, Kim finally spoke up.

“Stop waiting for God to fix this,” Kim said bluntly. “Start fixing it yourself.”

Kim helped Rebecca apply for emergency assistance, connected her with job placement services, shared the financial strategies that had actually worked. Her advice? Never make major decisions based on spiritual impressions.

The transformation began when Rebecca stopped listening for divine guidance that wasn’t coming. She enrolled in community college job training while working restaurant shifts at night. Instead of praying for career direction, she researched employment trends and developed actual skills.

Her circumstances improved through human effort and community support—not supernatural provision. The budget counselor at the nonprofit agency didn’t discuss faith. She taught Rebecca practical money management and credit repair.

The voice that finally guided Rebecca to stability wasn’t divine whispers calling for reckless faith. It was Kim’s blunt wisdom: trust verifiable advice from people who’ve survived what you’re facing.

The most reckless thing Rebecca ever did was abandoning her wait for God’s voice. The silence where divine guidance was supposed to be? That absence became her most reliable compass.

Reflection Question: When has trusting practical wisdom and community support been more reliable than waiting for divine guidance during crisis?

This story is part of my upcoming book “The Undevoted: Daily Departures from Divine Dependence,” which offers 365 human-centered alternatives to the spiritual certainties in Chambers’ devotional. Each day explores how reason, community, and human resilience can address life’s challenges without requiring divine intervention.