Spiritual Drift Starts the Same Way a Missed Workout Does

There wasn't a moment I decided to drift. That's the thing nobody tells you.

There was just a season where I was busy. Really busy. We were getting ready for a major conference at church. I was in the middle of 6 weeks of back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back (literally, one major thing every week) stressors. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, the intentional things started getting quietly displaced by the urgent things. The morning time I had protected got eaten. The practices that kept me anchored stopped happening. Not because I rejected them. Because I just... stopped showing up for them.

I didn't notice right away. That's the nature of drift. It doesn't feel like a decision. It feels like a Tuesday.

And then one day I looked up and realized I had covered a lot of distance in a direction I didn't choose.

That's how it works. Drift isn't a crisis event.

It's what happens in the absence of intention. It's the slow accumulation of days where something else was more pressing, more urgent, more demanding of your attention.

And here's the thing that should stop you cold: we don't drift toward truth. We only drift away from it.

The Apostle Paul understood this about the people he was writing to. Educated, spiritually alive, genuinely motivated, yet still in danger.

Listen to this:
“So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on Christ.” ‭‭(Colossians‬ ‭2‬:‭6‬-‭8‬ ‭NIV‬‬)

Paul's word is rooted.

Not inspired. Not motivated or occasionally engaged but rooted.

Roots don't grow on accident. You don't plant something, walk away, and expect depth to form on its own. Roots grow through consistent conditions over time. Intentional cultivation. Showing up when it would be easier not to.

The same is true of your faith.

One of the quiet lies we tell ourselves is that spiritual formation is mostly passive. Show up Sunday. Listen. Absorb. That should be enough. But Paul isn't describing a passive relationship with Christ here. He's describing a life that is actively continuing in the same direction you started. The same intentionality that brought you to Christ is the same intentionality required to stay anchored in him.

Notice what Paul is warning against. Not atheism. Not outright rebellion. Captivity. And captivity, in his framing, doesn't come from enemy forces kicking down the door. It comes from hollow and deceptive philosophy that has the shape of wisdom but is built on something other than Christ.

That's the danger of a distracted life. Not that you'll reject truth outright. But that you'll stop being rooted enough to recognize when something else is slowly replacing it.

The influencer with the compelling framework. The ideas that circulate through your feed as self-evident truth. The voices you've given access to your mind because they sound confident and credible. None of it arrives labeled. None of it comes with a warning that it's moving you a few degrees off course.

Drift doesn't need your permission. It just needs your inattention.

It starts as one missed morning. One week where you were too busy. One season where the intentional things quietly gave way to the urgent ones. And then one day you look up and you don't recognize where you are.

Paul's answer isn't more information. It's rootedness. The active, daily decision to continue in Christ. To be built up. To be strengthened in the faith you were taught.

You need Christ on the hard days … but you already know that. You also need him on the ordinary days, too. Or the productive days. Or the days when things are working and you feel capable and nothing is obviously wrong. Because those are the days when it's easiest to stop being intentional.

So here's the honest question: what does your daily rootedness actually look like?

Not your theology of it. What does it look like on a Tuesday morning when the calendar is full and the urgent things are already competing for your first hour?

If you can't answer that clearly, you're probably drifting. Not because you're rebellious. Not because you don't care. Because drift is the default. It's what happens when nothing is actively working against it.

Build something that works against it. Root yourself in the right soil, with consistent conditions, and tend it the way it deserves.

The roots don't grow on accident. And neither does the life that holds together.

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I put together a free guide called Train the Whole Person for exactly this. It's for those who are serious about their faith and their physical discipline and want a framework for how those two things actually work together.

If this post connected with you, that guide is the next step.

Trained for This is for those who take both their faith and their physical discipline seriously. If this connected, share it with someone who needs it.