In a world that often celebrates productivity and achievement, it's easy to drift from the true essence of our faith. I once believed that distancing myself from God would manifest as rebellion, but instead, it crept in quietly, disguised as busyness and competence. As I delved deeper into ministry, my studies became a mere exercise in knowledge, devoid of the passion and awe that once fueled my relationship with Christ.

Reflecting on this journey, I realized how easily we can transition from being fervent followers to performing duties out of habit. It's a subtle shift, marked not by drastic changes, but by a growing numbness in our hearts. Many of us might grapple with a faith that feels stale or overly professional, leaving us questioning our connection to God.

In the rush of youth, we often chase after the thrill of adventure, convinced we can conquer the world with a pair of keys and a mapless mindset. But sometimes, the real treasure lies not in the destination but in the lessons learned along the way. I remember a morning spent in Brad’s mom’s old minivan, barreling down gravel roads, laughter mingling with the music on the radio. It all came to a sudden halt when we collided with a mailbox, a moment that could have spiraled into chaos. As we stood there, hearts racing and adrenaline coursing through our veins, the unexpected happened. Instead of anger or blame, we were met with kindness—a simple acknowledgment that we weren’t alone in our mistake. The weight of mercy descended upon us, transforming a moment of folly into an opportunity for grace. This experience resonates deeply with how we often treat our own missteps in life. Instead of trying to repair every broken piece, what if we surrendered our failures to something greater? What if we embraced the concept of mercy, recognizing that it is in our moments of

Scripture warns, "There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death" (Proverbs 16:25).

And this applies beyond fireworks.

Israel did the same thing. Their decline wasn't immediate. They didn't wake up one day and say, "Let's abandon God." It started small. Tiny compromises. Twisting God's words. Playing with fire. Until one day, the flames consumed them.

Hosea saw it coming as God declared, "My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge" (Hosea 4:6).

They stopped learning. They stopped caring. And they paid for it.

Too many Christians treat theology like I treated those fireworks. Something trivial. Something to tinker with but never take seriously.

Handled rightly, theology brings warmth and light.

Mishandled, it burns homes to the ground.

We focus on spiritual formation, heart issues, and loving Jesus—but how can you love someone you don't know? How can you follow a God you refuse to understand?