When His Things Replace Him
Devotional Credit:
Open Windows by T. Austin-Sparks
From The Cross, the Church, and the Conflict – Chapter 4
Photo Credit:
Photo by Unsplash
T. Austin-Sparks invites us to peer through a spiritual window, offering a sobering look at a quiet but powerful form of idolatry. It’s not always the obvious enemies that hinder our walk with Christ—often, it’s the good things, even godly things, that subtly steal our gaze. Whether it’s a ministry, a denomination, a tradition, or even our own spiritual work, anything that displaces the supremacy of Christ in our hearts becomes a rival to Him. This isn’t about abandoning what’s good; it’s about remembering what’s better—the person of Jesus Himself.
Sparks isn’t attacking Christian institutions or service. He’s warning that even noble Christian endeavors can morph into ends in themselves. When these become untouchable—when a gentle nudge toward deeper intimacy with Christ meets fierce resistance—it reveals something deeper: our identity or comfort has become rooted in the activity rather than the Lord.
What’s most sobering is that Satan doesn’t just tempt with sin. He’s content to let us be busy for God—as long as it keeps us from God. Sparks describes an invisible warfare that arises when Christ asks us to move beyond the familiar, even if the familiar is stamped with the label of “ministry.” The opposition we face isn’t always from people or policies, but from unseen forces that bind our hearts to God’s things instead of to God Himself.
The Lord’s aim is simple and beautiful: He desires to establish Himself—not His blessings, not His ministries—as the supreme object of our affection. When He asks us to release our grip on what we think we’re doing for Him, it’s only so He can give us more of Himself. If we resist that movement, we may be clinging to an idol—even if it’s wrapped in spiritual packaging.
Journal Entry – Voice of the Holy Spirit Through Scripture
I have not called you to a life of service apart from Myself—I have called you to Myself. Every good thing I have given you, every opportunity to serve, every open door of ministry—they were meant to flow from intimacy with Me, not become substitutes for it. When your heart finds rest in My gifts rather than in Me, the very gifts that were meant to bless you become burdens, and even idols.
Do you remember what I said to Martha? She was troubled over many good things, but only one thing was necessary—sitting at My feet, listening, beholding, loving. I do not want your identity to be wrapped up in what you do for Me but in who you are in Me. Your works are not your life—I am. Your calling is not your anchor—I am. Your heritage, denomination, reputation, or leadership role is not your security—I am.
When I nudge you to move on—deeper into My presence, further from what feels familiar—it is not to strip you, but to fill you. I long to be your portion, your satisfaction, your delight. But if you hold tightly to the work, to the role, to the label, then you cannot receive the fullness of what I desire to give.
Even now I am knocking. Not to condemn, but to invite. I want to dine with you, not inspect your productivity. I want to dwell richly in your heart, not compete with lesser loves. Let Me be your treasure. Let the work be Mine. And let your life be hidden with Christ in God.
Scripture References:
Luke 10:38–42; Revelation 3:20; Colossians 3:1–4; 2 Corinthians 11:3; John 15:5; Philippians 3:7–10; 1 Corinthians 10:14; Galatians 2:20; Matthew 6:21; Exodus 20:3; 1 John 5:21; Psalm 73:25–26
Real-Life Analogy
It’s like driving with GPS but falling in love with the route instead of the destination. Imagine setting out to see someone you love, but halfway there, the scenic byways and coffee stops start to enchant you. You forget the purpose of the journey—you were meant to arrive. That’s what happens when Christian service, tradition, or affiliation becomes our focus instead of Christ Himself. The journey becomes the goal, and the heart misses the person.
Today, as I sense the tug to release something I’ve come to depend on—a structure, a role, a routine—I won’t resist. I’ll yield. Lord, I trust You to live Your life through me in this moment, to gently guide me where You are calling, even if it means letting go of something I once thought indispensable. In every task today, may I remember: You—not the task—are the treasure.
Prayer of Confidence
Jesus, You are my life. You have never asked me to earn Your approval or prove my devotion through busy service. You’ve simply asked me to abide. I thank You that everything that once gave me status or security is now loss compared to the surpassing worth of knowing You. You are enough. You are worthy of every release, every surrender, every step forward into deeper trust. I rest in the truth that I don’t need to cling to the familiar to be safe—I am already hidden in You. Thank You for the grace to walk away from anything that tries to take Your place. You are my portion forever.