Dangerous

"Dangerous"- Testimony By Kiersen Landes

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Dear Reader,

Today, I’m going to share the secret to living a life that is truly abundant.

Buttt, like any half-decent writer, I’m gonna make you work for it. Hang in there.

I come from a family of believers. I’ve spent time on the mission field (8 years, to be exact), went to church, attended a Christian high school AND college, and by typical standards have always been a “good Christian”. I’ve always read my Bible, prayed, and on special occasions, I might have even tithed (double points).

But I was spiritually dead.

As I spent more and more time with other believers, I began to realize there was something different that they had and I didn’t. They could hear God’s voice and they were obeying what He told them to do. They were joyful and happy and full of grace and mercy. They had something that I just couldn’t quite seem to grasp.

Let me clue you in.

If I had to describe myself in three words, humble wouldn’t be one of them. Actually, if I had to describe myself in 100 words, humble probably still wouldn’t make the list. I have never instinctively been the first to apologize or to smile when I received constructive criticism. More often than not, I shut down when I’m angry and I’m resentful despite “forgiving” mistakes.

Then, I listened to a pastor teach on Matthew 16:24-26. If you don’t know the passage, it’s where Jesus describes the most fundamental part of our walk with him as forgiven children. He says, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself, pick up his cross, and follow me”.

I’ve always read this and like the typical churchgoer, nodded and said “amen”. But this time was different. The pastor further broke down the verse, and emphasized that denying ourselves includes denying our past, our feelings, and our future. The point was that as a follower of Jesus, there’s a cost. And if there’s no cost, there’s no true following.

Needless to say, I went through a variety of emotions. I tried to convince myself that the life I lived wasn’t my own. That I really did make decisions based on what God wanted and not what I did. That I struggled with things, but that was normal, right? But the more I fought it, the more the truth became horribly apparent.

There was no cost. I’d read my Bible in the morning, and complain throughout the day. I’d sit in my feelings and shrink back from vulnerability. I’d pray for others but then turn around and “vent” about them to my friends. (I mean, that’s definitely not gossiping...right?)

I had convinced myself that my sins were struggles instead of realizing that in reality there was no struggle. I spent my money as I pleased, watched/listened to whatever I wanted, and was completely unable to tell myself “no”.

And that realization wrecked me.

That moment marked a change in my life. And let me tell you, it was a dangerous realization. There was no going back. Instead, fresh convictions that I’d never experienced were popping up and I was completely unable to ignore them.

The little things I used to brush away became boulders blocking my path. I gave up my favorite music (not without grumbling, I assure you), my favorite shows. It felt like almost overnight, I was more sensitive to what I was wearing, how much I was scrolling, and how I was spending my time.

And I obeyed.

Slowly but surely, my heart began to change. Don’t be fooled, I still wouldn’t consider humility one of my strengths. But, I began to feel that deep desire to know God and to know Him intimately. To truly see Him as my greatest treasure and reward. My mind became clear and my spirit became sensitive. My sense of joy and trust has been renewed and I’m beginning to understand how much I will never understand about God.

I am grieved over losing so many years to a Christianity that lacked true submission to the Lord.

I once heard someone say, “The world can’t hate us because we’re too much like it. Oh, that we would be dangerous!”

And this is my prayer that we stop compromising for a cheap faith. The kind of faith that leaves us pretending to be reverent while we struggle in secret. The kind of faith that professes His name but refuses to surrender. The kind of faith that’s boring, stagnant, and draining. The kind of faith that reeks of deception because it leads us to convince ourselves and those around us that maybe Jesus isn’t worth it.

If you’re caught in a lukewarm faith that isn’t giving you everything Jesus promises, let me encourage you to humble yourself in His presence (even if that means telling him you don’t know how). To recognize that his sacrifice and steadfast love are enough to keep you secure and give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Let him take care of you in ways you’ll never be able to. Don’t let the enemy convince you that He isn’t worth it.

C’mon. Let’s be dangerous.