Stacking Steps Out of Legalism

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Have you ever feel like you’re stuck in a spiritual hamster wheel? You know the one: run faster, pray harder, study deeper, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll finally be “enough” for God. It’s a treadmill of “shoulds and shouldn’ts” and I’ve worn out my shoes on it. If you’re nodding along, let’s hit pause. 

What if real spiritual growth isn’t about stacking up brownie points for Jesus, but stacking little moments of faithfulness that pull you back to who He is and what He’s done? Let’s meditate on that together—because I’ve been where you are, and there’s a better way.

Picture me, twenty-something, a young believer working for a church. I was the poster child for “doing it right.” Fresh out of Bible college, I had theology locked down tighter than a bank vault, a prayer routine that could’ve made a saint jealous, and enough passion to spark a revival—or so I thought. I was all in, clipboard in hand, ticking boxes like my eternal life depended on it. One afternoon, I’m hunched over my desk, prepping a sermon (ironic, right?), when my pastor stops by. “You’re doing a lot,” he says, eyeing my stack of commentaries (those are books for the kids in the room). “But where’s your heart?” I shrugged it off. My heart? It was fine. I had the doctrine, the discipline, the drive, the ministry. What else mattered?

That night, though, it unraveled. Alone with my marked up Bible and a yellow desk lamp, I felt it—a gnawing emptiness. I wasn’t trusting Jesus. I was trusting me—my system, my hustle, my “correctness.” I had turned the gospel into a performance review, and my soul was running on fumes. Sound familiar? Maybe you’re there too—caught in legalism’s grip, chasing a mirage of control that leaves you burned out and brittle. Here’s the lifeline: Jesus doesn’t need your perfection. He’s already perfect for you. Spiritual growth? It’s not a mountain to conquer. It’s a stack of small, faithful “yeses” that recalibrate your heart around Him. Let me show you how I’m learning this—and why it’s for you too.

First, practice gratitude. I mean it—stop right now and thank Jesus for something real. Not because it’s another rule to follow, but because it rewires you. Back in my church-worker days, I’d plow through my to-do list—counsel this person, prep that event—without a single “thank you” to God. I was too busy earning my keep. Now? I’ll pause mid-morning, maybe over a steaming cup of coffee, and whisper, “Thanks, Jesus, for this moment.” Or maybe it’s bigger—“Thanks for forgiving me when I snapped at my kids.” It’s not about size; it’s about stacking those tiny anchors of grace. Try it. Thank Him for the sunrise, your kids’ laughter, or that sin He’s already nailed to the cross. Watch how it shifts your eyes from your failures to His faithfulness.

Second, practice humility. And no, this isn’t about groveling or pretending you’re a worm. Humility’s not thinking less of yourself—it’s thinking of yourself less often. When I was that cocky young believer (as opposed the cocky middle aged believer I am today), I was obsessed with proving my spiritual street cred. I’d debate theology like it was a cage match, flexing my knowledge to feel secure. Humility crept in when I finally admitted I didn’t have it all figured out—and didn’t need to. Right doctrine does not come with right faith by default. Next time you’re tempted to strut your righteousness (or beat yourself up for falling short), stack a moment of surrender instead. Ask, “How can I point to Him here?” Maybe it’s listening instead of lecturing, or resting instead of striving. It’s not weakness—it’s freedom. Stack enough of those, and you’ll feel the legalism loosen its chokehold.

Finally, don’t just read the Bible—meditate on it. I’m not talking about skimming a chapter to check a box (guilty as charged, back in the day). I mean sitting with Scripture, letting it soak into your bones, seeing the world through the lens of God’s kingdom. Resources like The Bible Project and Bible reading plans with friends have helped through the years. They remind us: this isn’t a rulebook to master—it’s a story of Jesus remaking everything, including us. In my “I’ve-got-this” phase, I’d cherry-pick verses and doctrine to win arguments or prop up my ego. Now, I’ll linger on something like John 15—“Abide in me, and I in you”—and wrestle with it. “Jesus, how do I rest in You today? How do I see my mess through Your kingdom?” Stack those moments of meditation—five minutes here, ten there—and you’ll start seeing your life differently. That coworker who grates on you? A kingdom chance to love. That doubt gnawing at you? A kingdom invitation to trust.

Here’s the bottom line, spiritual growth isn’t a sprint to impress God. It’s a slow, steady stack of little “yeses” to Jesus—gratitude, humility, meditation. I blew it back then, leaning on my own strength instead of His finished work. Maybe you have too. But the gospel says we don’t have to stay there. Start small. Stack one moment today—thank Him, surrender something, linger over His Word. Then do it again tomorrow. Jesus isn’t tapping His foot, waiting for you to get it perfect. He’s already done that part. So lean in, rest up, and stack away. He’s got you—and He’s not letting go.

Grace and Peace,

RCT

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Ryan Tirona

Not all who wander are lost.