A Sobering Moment

 

The other day, I found myself sitting quietly—thinking, praying, and examining what I see unfolding around me. In that stillness, a troubling thought settled deep within my heart. I marvel at how easily many people claim to “know the Lord Jesus,” and yet seem able to walk away from Him without hesitation, without grief, and without pause. It is not always done with open defiance, but often with subtle replacement—filling the space once reserved for Christ with comfort, convenience, and personal desire.

 

One of the clearest signs of this shift is what has happened to the Lord’s Day. Sunday, once set apart as a holy day of worship and rest unto God, has increasingly become nothing more than the “second day of my weekend.” It is now viewed as personal time—time to do what I want, when I want, without regard for the One who gave me breath, salvation, and purpose. What was once sacred has become optional. A few days ago I read a sobering and true statement: "Anything you make optional in your life will, at some point, not be a part of your life." What follows is naturally this: What was once an act of devotion is now weighed against convenience.

 

It is often said that there is no longer any fear of God in mankind, and to some degree, that is understandable. A world that rejects truth will naturally reject the God of truth. But what grieves me far more is this: the fear of God appears to be disappearing even among God’s own people. Reverence has been replaced with familiarity. Obedience has been replaced with preference. Submission has been replaced with self-rule.

 

Scripture warns us of such a time. The final verse of the book of Judges describes a people adrift: “In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” That verse no longer feels like distant history. It feels like a mirror. Today, it seems we have dismissed God as our King—not with our lips, but with our lives. We still speak His name, but we resist His authority. We still claim His promises, but ignore His commands.

This is not merely a cultural problem; it is a spiritual one. When God is no longer feared, He is no longer obeyed. When He is no longer obeyed, He is no longer honored as King. And when everyone does what is right in their own eyes, the result is not freedom, but confusion, decay, and loss.

 

My concern is not rooted in judgment, but in sorrow. I am deeply concerned about where we are headed. A faith that costs nothing demands nothing and ultimately, is nothing. A Savior who can be easily replaced was never truly enthroned in the heart to begin with. If Christ is Lord, He is Lord of all—of our time, our priorities, our worship, and our obedience.

 

Perhaps the question we must ask ourselves is not whether we know the Lord Jesus, but whether He truly reigns over us. Have we crowned Him King, or have we quietly taken the throne back for ourselves?

History—and Scripture—make one thing clear: when God’s people abandon His rule, the consequences are never small. My prayer is that we would awaken before the cost becomes unbearable, and once again learn what it means to fear the Lord—not with terror, but with reverence, humility, and wholehearted devotion.

 

As I sat there, saddened by what I was thinking, King David came to mind. It was in possibly one of the lowest time of his life that a very personal, yet powerful prayer came. His words can become ours: "Be gracious to me (US) God, according to YOUR faithful love and compassion, blot out our rebellion, our guilt, and sin. Wash Us with the cleansing of your blood and your word. Create in us a clean heart, renew us by, with, and through your Holy Spirit. Restore to us and Remind us about the joy found in your salvation." AMEN.