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Professional Care: A Response to June 21st

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.

Why Belief in God is an Outdated Superstitution

Active Recovery: A Response to June 20th

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?

If God is Real, Why Doesn’t He Ever Show Up?

Sustainable Ministry: A Response to June 19th

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?

Religion is a Mind Virus

Reliable Guidance: A Response to June 18th

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?

Absurd Beliefs

Constructive Criticism: A Response to June 17th

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 Uncritical Temper”, promises that believers can cultivate an “uncritical temper” through spiritual discipline, with the Holy Spirit uniquely able to correct “without causing pain,” and God providing “spiritual spring-cleaning” that eliminates pride and judgment.

Here’s what actually happened:

“The Holy Spirit alone can correct without wounding,” Pastor Thompson assured the leadership team. “Once God gives you spiritual spring-cleaning, you’ll lose all desire to judge others.”

David took this seriously. After all, Jesus had commanded “do not judge.” Surely spiritual maturity meant eliminating critical thoughts about other church members entirely. He prayed daily for the promised uncritical spirit, waiting for God to cleanse his judgmental tendencies.

Months passed. David still noticed the worship leader’s consistently flat notes. He couldn’t ignore the treasurer’s chaotic financial reports. He felt frustrated when the same members strolled in twenty minutes late every Sunday.

Where was the divine transformation? The guilt began crushing him. Every critical observation felt like spiritual failure. The harder he suppressed these thoughts, the louder they became. He begged God for the promised spring-cleaning that would finally make him the non-judgmental disciple Jesus demanded.

God’s response? Deafening silence.

His wife Sarah watched this internal war with growing concern. She’d taken a different path—studying communication and conflict resolution instead of praying for personality transformation. Sarah learned that critical observations often contained valuable information about real problems.

When the church’s financial audit revealed serious irregularities, David was paralyzed. His critical thoughts about the treasurer had been accurate, but wasn’t questioning her character exactly what Jesus forbade? He waited desperately for divine guidance about whether investigating constituted sinful judgment.

Again, silence.

Sarah saw the situation clearly: financial accountability wasn’t character assassination—it was organizational responsibility. She helped David understand that stewardship required critical thinking, not spiritual passivity.

“Maybe your critical thoughts aren’t sin,” Sarah suggested. “Maybe they’re your brain working properly.”

The breakthrough came when David realized he’d been waiting years for a divine personality transplant that was never coming. No Holy Spirit intervention was cleansing his capacity for judgment. No spiritual spring-cleaning was transforming his critical nature.

Sarah’s approach—treating criticism as information rather than spiritual failure—proved infinitely more practical. She could address problems directly without the paralyzing guilt that made David useless in actual conflicts.

The real spring-cleaning happened when David stopped expecting supernatural character transformation and started learning human skills for expressing concerns constructively. His critical thinking wasn’t a bug to be spiritually debugged—it was a feature to be properly calibrated.

The silence from heaven wasn’t divine disappointment in his judgmental nature. It was the absence of a deity who was never there to transform him in the first place.

Reflection Question: When has learning to express critical observations constructively been more helpful than trying to eliminate critical thinking entirely?

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