Trying to Grow

I want to unpack a little further something that Jen touched on in her Sunday message—specifically the relationship between "ridding" and "longing."

2 Peter 2:1-3 Therefore, rid yourselves of all malice, all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and all slander. ² Like newborn infants, desire the pure milk of the word, so that by it you may grow up into your salvation, ³ if you have tasted that the Lord is good

Jen’s message laid out a simple order for spiritual growth: before we can truly crave the “pure milk” of God’s Word like a newborn, we have to let go of things like malice, deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander. These attitudes don’t just show spiritual immaturity—they actively block our growth. We have to consider whether any of these behaviors might be dulling our appetite for Scripture. Are we trying to grow spiritually while still holding on to patterns that work against our soul? Growth begins with cleansing.

To me, what we’re talking about is spiritual fasting.

Spiritual fasting is turning away from something and turning toward something else.

I remember when I first accepted Jesus. I wasn’t going to church yet, and I tried to change by devouring the Bible. That wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t putting into action what I was learning. Maybe a little. But mostly, I was focused on ridding what I saw in other people’s actions. I was judgmental instead of focusing on turning from my own sin and following the Word. I didn’t understand. I was unlearned.

When I started going to church, I learned about the altar—a place where you lay things down and pick up something from God. After one message, I went to the altar. I was all knotted up inside about the way I spoke and how I cussed every five seconds. I didn’t want to talk that way anymore. I was a mom now, and I didn’t want my child to speak that way. Motherhood, for me, was one of the ways God lit a fire under me to pursue change and let Him decide what needed to go first.

This was my first real encounter with conviction about my impure mouth. I went to the altar and asked for help. I heard God say, “You can say ‘A and F and B and S’in.’” Basically, it was a way of replacing the actual cuss words with a silly phrase made of their first letters. So I started practicing. OH man—when I got mad, I would fling that phrase all over the place. I sounded like a one‑year‑old who couldn’t speak English. But that phrase broke my cussing habit. And then one day, I heard God say, “You can stop saying that now.” That’s how simple God can make it. I never would’ve come up with that on my own. It was far more wisdom than I had.

I had tried to stop cussing cold turkey. Didn’t work. I blamed the failure on it being “too hard,” but when I did it God’s way, it was easy. And I’ve been free of being a potty mouth for 27 years.

Spiritual fasting works because it starves the flesh of its desire and redirects that energy toward healing. How is God’s department. You just have to ask Him—and obey.

God has His own way of helping you. He made you and understands you completely. Ask Him. He will ask you to fast (He may not even say that word) from something in a particular way that may seem silly or ridiculous, but if you humble yourself and do it, He will change you completely, one thing at a time.

STOP THAT AND DO THIS INSTEAD

He may ask you to notice—and change—the mental channel that plays those little movies about hurting people back, getting even, or imagining the “perfect” comeback you wish you’d said to turn on music and dance. He may ask you to make a simple physical shift when you want to lie and actually say the truth out loud. Instead of the Christian four‑letter word, “I’m fine,” you might turn and say, “I’m freaking out, and I think people will think I’m stupid.”

He may ask you to say, “I am not the standard; Jesus is,” every time you start believing you’re better than someone else. He may ask you to write down three things you’re grateful for whenever you feel upset that others have things you don’t. He may ask you to breathe through the moment when someone mentions a person you know a juicy tidbit about—and let that moment pass without sharing it. He may ask you to repeat a phrase, “His actions are his answer,” when you want to yell and instead move to simple consequences instead of a lecture.

And what’s really interesting is that when you do this—whatever God asks you to do—it works like compound interest. You remove one thing, and suddenly a whole area of your life shifts. The stronghold untangles. Freedom comes. A whole new way of being begins.

Why? Because small hinges move big doors. Spiritual fasting changes your life.

What is God asking you to let go of to grab hold of something else?

Thanks for reading.