I have been sitting with Matthew 23 for several weeks now. Recently, I taught my Bible class about Jesus’ words to the Pharisees, comparing them to cups and bowls that were clean on the outside but filthy on the inside. He also called them whitewashed tombs. Beautiful on the outside, but full of death on the inside.

As I taught those passages, I found myself thinking about how often I read the Bible and shake my head at the people in its pages. The Israelites wandering in the wilderness, repeatedly forgetting God’s faithfulness and turning their hearts away from Him. The Pharisees, so religiously devoted to appearances that they missed the very Messiah standing in front of them.

It’s easy to look at those people and wonder how they could be so foolish. How could they see what God had done and still turn away? How could the Pharisees be so consumed with religion and yet so far from the heart of God?

But the uncomfortable truth is that I am not so different from them.

I love Jesus. I am a disciple of Christ. I want to serve Him, share Him, and spend my life pointing others toward Him. But I am also human, with the same sinful nature that plagued the people whose stories fill the pages of Scripture. People will always people. Our hearts wander. Our affections get misplaced. Our spiritual attentiveness grows dull. We can become so accustomed to the things of God that we lose our awe of God.

And that is precisely why we need a Savior so desperately.

This morning, over a cup of coffee, my thoughts turned inward. I began thinking about my own sin, my apathy, and my lack of awe. I felt the conviction of recognizing that while the outside of my bowl might look relatively clean, I have neglected some of the very things God has given me to tend to the inside.

I am not fasting. I talk to God throughout my day, and I love that I can commune with Him in the ordinary moments of life. But I am not spending enough intentional time in silent prayer, sitting still before Him. I am not in His Word as consistently or as deeply as I know I need to be.

I think of Paul’s words in Romans 7:15:

“For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.”

Oh, how I understand that tension. I want to be more disciplined. I want to be more attentive to His voice. I want my heart to burn with the things that burn His. And yet, I find myself allowing the demands, distractions, and routines of life to crowd out the very One who gives my life meaning.

This is a confession of sorts.

I am not writing this from a place of having it all figured out. I am writing it because I feel the Lord gently, but unmistakably, drawing my attention back to what matters most.

Abiding.

Jesus tells us in John 15:4-5:

“Abide in me, and I in you… for apart from me you can do nothing.”

Not apart from me you can do a little less. Not apart from me your ministry won’t be quite as effective. Apart from me, you can do nothing.

I can fill my calendar with ministry. I can teach Bible lessons, encourage other women, pour into students, love on families, and serve in my church. Those are good things. They are things I genuinely love doing. But none of them can replace the daily, intimate fellowship of simply being with Jesus.

I cannot pour from an empty cup.

And perhaps that is where my conviction becomes even more personal.

About eight years ago, God impressed something very specific on my heart. I was working in a daycare with little children when I felt Him telling me that one day I would work in a school, ministering to older students. I remember calling my mom in tears because I was so certain I had heard from Him.

This morning, the Holy Spirit brought that memory back to me.

And here I am. Working in a school, serving students of all ages, and now serving as the Family Ministry Director at King’s Academy. I am living in something God placed on my heart years ago.

I stopped and thanked Him for His faithfulness. But almost immediately, gratitude turned into conviction.

Am I treating this life and this position with the reverence it deserves? Am I stewarding this calling as the gift that it is? Am I recognizing the holy opportunity I have been given to pour into these students and their families?

I do pour into them. I love them. But I know God wants to do abundantly more. And I find myself asking: Am I a sharp enough tool to be as useful as He wants me to be?

He also gave me a vision back in 2010 that I would one day be involved in women’s ministry, teaching the gospel from a platform. Once again, He has been faithful. Through Ardently His, He has opened a door I could never have opened myself.

He has done what He said He would do.

And I am obedient to the mission He has placed before me. But I have to ask myself whether I am being equally intentional about the disciplines that keep my heart close to Him.

I want to be refined like silver. I want to be malleable in the Potter’s hands (Isaiah 64:8). I want to be a useful instrument in the hands of my Master. But a tool must be sharp to be useful.

And sharpening requires time with Him.

It happens as we abide in His Word, sit in His presence, surrender our will, and allow Him to expose the things in us that need to change. It happens in the quiet, unseen moments when no one is applauding, no one is watching, and there is nothing to accomplish except knowing Him.

It also happens in community. Proverbs 27:17 reminds us that “iron sharpens iron.” I am grateful for the believers God has placed around me, the people who challenge me, encourage me, and point me back to Jesus. I don’t want to neglect those relationships either.

But I cannot depend on the spiritual disciplines of someone else to cultivate intimacy with God in my own heart.

I have this deep sense that He has more. Not necessarily more opportunities, more ministry, or a bigger platform. More of HIM. A deeper abiding. A greater awareness of His presence. A heart that is tender toward the things of God and increasingly grieved by the things that grieve Him.

I believe that kind of intimacy would change everything. My ministry. My motherhood. My friendships. My marriage. Not because spending more time with Jesus is a formula for making every part of life easier, but because being transformed by Him changes the way I enter every part of life.

I want to be useful in His hands. I want to be so rooted in Him that what spills out of my life is a natural overflow of what He is doing within me.

And I know I cannot manufacture that desire through sheer determination. I cannot simply decide to be on fire for God and expect my heart to follow. But I can respond to His conviction. I can make room. I can put practical disciplines back into place. I can turn off the noise, open His Word, get on my knees, fast, pray, and make intentional space for the One I claim to love most.

James 4:8 says:

“Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.”

That is an invitation I don’t want to take lightly.

So this is my prayer:

Lord, clean the inside of my bowl.

Wash me with Your Word. Search my heart and reveal the places where I have grown complacent. Restore my awe. Give me an unquenchable desire to be in Your presence and in Your Word. Teach me to prioritize what matters eternally over what demands my attention temporarily.

Refine me. Make me malleable in Your hands. Sharpen me. Make me useful for whatever You have called me to do. Break my heart for what breaks Yours. Let my outward life be a genuine reflection of an inward life that is completely surrendered to You. Amen.

And for anyone reading this who recognizes a little of themselves in my confession, maybe this is an invitation for you, too.

Maybe you love Jesus, but you’ve grown a little comfortable. Maybe you’re still serving, still showing up, still doing all the things, but somewhere along the way, your private time with Him has become an afterthought. Maybe your spiritual disciplines have slipped, and you’ve begun to settle for knowing about Him rather than intentionally knowing Him more deeply.

Don’t mistake activity for intimacy. Don’t let the appearance of a healthy spiritual life convince you that your heart doesn’t need tending.

The beautiful thing about conviction is that it can lead us back to the very One who is able to change us.

We don’t have to manufacture our own revival. We need to draw near to the One who revives us.

Today is a good day to start tending to the inside of the bowl.

Lord, make us clean from the inside out.

Ardently His,

Jenifer

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