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Jim McCrory

Why the Journey Matters

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Calm seas never made skilled sailors.

African proverb

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Why the Journey Matters

The African proverb reminds us that wisdom reaches beyond oceans and ships and speaks directly to the human soul. Life itself was never meant to be lived on still waters alone. It is shaped by movement—by challenge, endurance, and growth. Seasons of ease may bring rest, but it is the storms that teach us how to stand.

When we come to God, the journey does not end—it begins. Faith is not a final harbour but the moment we step onto open waters. From that point on, life unfolds with purpose. Scripture assures us, “And we know that God works all things together for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28, BSB). Nothing in our lives is random or wasted, not even suffering.

Along the way, we encounter obstacles of many kinds. Some quietly test our integrity; choices that reveal who we truly are when no one else sees. Others arrive with great force: loss, illness, grief, or trials that threaten to overwhelm us. These are the rough seas of faith, where belief matures into lived trust. As James reminds us, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, when you encounter trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance” (James 1:2–3, BSB).

God has not left us without direction. His Word is our guide when the way forward seems unclear. “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Psalm 119:105, BSB). When the horizon fades and answers feel distant, Scripture provides steady light, enough for the next step. In ancient times, travellers strapped lamps to their feet to protect them from snakes and they carried lamps to illuminate the path. When the way forward is unclear and the horizon disappears, God’s Word remains steady, offering direction and hope.

Prayer keeps us close to Him on the journey. We are urged, “Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight” (Proverbs 3:5–6, BSB). Faith does not demand full understanding—it calls us to trust the One who sees the entire journey.

We are never wandering blindly. God placed humanity in the world with intention. “God intended that they would seek Him and perhaps feel their way toward Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us. ‘For in Him we live and move and have our being’” (Acts 17:27–28, BSB). Even when we stumble through the darkness, God remains near—closer than we realize.

Over time, the storms begin to shape us. What once frightened us strengthens us. The hardships that seemed unbearable refine our faith and deepen our dependence on God. Paul writes, “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, yet our inner self is being renewed day by day” (2 Corinthians 4:16, BSB). The world may measure loss, but God is quietly renewing the soul.

This journey is not our final home. We are being prepared for something greater than this life can offer. “For here we do not have a permanent city, but we are looking for the city that is to come” (Hebrews 13:14, BSB). Every trial, every season of waiting, every hard-earned moment of perseverance is shaping us for eternity.

This is why God placed us here—not for comfort alone, but for transformation. Not for calm seas, but for deep faith. The journey itself is the work. And in the end, we will find that we were never sailing alone.

 

 

Scripture quotations are from the Berean Study Bible (BSB).
Copyright © 2002–2016 by Bible Hub
Used by permission. All rights reserved.

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Jim McCrory

Breaking Free, Staying Free

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Tuesday 15 July 2025 at 16:28

Breaking Free, Staying Free

It’s a familiar journey for many. You finally walk away from a high-control religion or a rigid belief system, breathing in the air of freedom—only to find yourself tangled up in something strikingly similar. Different name, same grip. That space left behind, once governed by rules and certainty, can feel so vast and disorienting that you reach for something—anything—to fill it. And often, that something becomes another leader, another group, another cause.

The truth is, it’s not just about identity. It’s about our deep human need for connection, and sometimes, the comfort of letting someone else decide what’s right.

But there’s a darker side to some of these communities. They wear the cloak of godliness, speak of agape—the highest form of love—but behind the warm smiles and scriptural affirmations, their mission is clear: recruitment, numbers, allegiance. Real care gets lost beneath performance. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. People lured in by promises of healing and fellowship, only to become pawns in someone else's spiritual campaign.

I began my own faith journey at 23—not searching for a system or a new set of rules, but for something real. I was done with shallow friendships and tired answers. I turned to God, not through human voices, but through scripture. What I found wasn’t control, but comfort—not the heavy hand of expectation, but the steady heart of grace.

The Bible warns us about misplaced reliance. The Israelites wanted a king, someone tangible to follow (1 Samuel 8:4–9). Despite God’s caution, they begged for human leadership—and suffered the consequences. It’s a cautionary tale that echoes today: even well-meaning leaders will falter when we place our ultimate trust in them.

Leadership itself isn’t wrong; it can be a gift. But when it becomes a substitute for God—when agendas take precedence over love—we slip into a cycle of spiritual disappointment. Jesus saw this too. In Matthew 23, He denounced the Pharisees for their performative righteousness. Their love was transactional, their unity conditional. I’ve felt that shift—the cold shoulder when you stop conforming, the fading warmth when you start asking questions.

That’s not agape. That’s not the love of Christ.

God’s love doesn’t hinge on obedience to human systems. It’s personal, liberating, unconditional. It’s the love that meets us where we are, not where someone thinks we should be. Psalm 118:8–9 reminds us, “It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in humans.” That speaks straight to the heart of it.

We’re all looking for belonging. But true belonging doesn’t come from becoming someone else’s project—it comes from knowing that we’re loved simply because we exist. Jesus didn’t come to form empires or hierarchies; He came to free us. “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36). That’s the promise. Not membership, not compliance—freedom.

So for those standing at the edge, unsure of what comes next, my encouragement is simple: don’t rush to replace one system with another. Don’t fall for love that’s really just control in disguise. Turn to God. Let His Word guide you. Proverbs 3:5–6 invites us to trust Him with everything—He’ll direct our paths with gentleness and truth.

Christian freedom doesn’t come from finding the perfect group. It comes from walking daily with the One who knows you fully and loves you deeply. No strings. No performance. Just grace.

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