A Day in the Life
“Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit, according to the tradition of men, according to the basic principles of the world, and not according to Christ.” – Colossians 2:8
I find myself drawn into this warning from Paul because it touches something I wrestle with more often than I care to admit—the desire to be practical, efficient, and effective, even in the things of God. As I walk through the life of Jesus, I begin to notice that His way of doing things rarely aligns with what I would call “efficient.” In fact, if I had been advising Him, I might have suggested a completely different strategy. Yet that is precisely where the tension lies. God’s thinking is not man’s thinking, and His methods often challenge my instincts.
When I consider Jesus in the wilderness in Matthew 4, I see this principle clearly. Satan did not tempt Him with evil goals; he tempted Him with shortcuts. “If You are the Son of God, command that these stones become bread”—a practical solution to hunger. “Throw Yourself down”—a dramatic way to prove identity. “All these things I will give You”—a faster route to authority without the cross. Each temptation offered efficiency, results, and immediate validation. Yet Jesus resisted every one of them, grounding Himself in the Word of God. The Greek word Paul uses in Colossians 2:8 for “cheat” is sylagōgeō, meaning to carry off as spoil or to take captive. That strikes me deeply—man’s reasoning, when detached from Christ, doesn’t merely distract; it captures and redirects the heart.
I also think about how Jesus chose His disciples. From a worldly perspective, this decision lacks strategic sense. Fishermen, a tax collector, men without formal rabbinical training—hardly the elite leadership team one would assemble to launch a global movement. Yet Jesus was not building according to human metrics. As Isaiah reminds us, “For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways” (Isaiah 55:8). The Hebrew word for “thoughts,” machashavot, carries the idea of plans or intentions. God’s plans are not simply higher—they are entirely different in nature. What appears inefficient to me is often perfectly aligned with His eternal purposes.
This becomes even clearer when I reflect on the story of Ananias and Sapphira in Acts 5. Their offering, on the surface, looked generous and effective. It contributed to the needs of the early church. But the issue was not the result—it was the heart and the method. Their deception revealed a reliance on human approval rather than divine truth. God’s judgment reminds me that He is not impressed by outcomes achieved through compromised means. A.W. Tozer once wrote, “God is looking for people through whom He can do the impossible. What a pity that we plan only the things we can do by ourselves.” That insight exposes how easily I drift into measuring success by visible results rather than faithful obedience.
As I walk with Jesus through these moments, I begin to see that He consistently chooses the path of obedience over the path of efficiency. When He heals, teaches, or confronts, He does so in perfect alignment with the Father’s will, not according to human expectation. Even the cross itself stands as the ultimate contradiction to worldly thinking. What appears to be defeat becomes victory. What seems like loss becomes redemption. Paul later writes, “For the foolishness of God is wiser than men” (1 Corinthians 1:25), reminding me that God’s ways may appear illogical, but they are never misguided.
This challenges me in my own walk. How often do I justify a shortcut because it produces a quicker result? How often do I rely on methods that “work” rather than those that are faithful? The life of Jesus invites me to slow down, to listen, and to trust that obedience matters more than outcome. It calls me to examine not only what I am doing for God, but how I am doing it. Am I driven by trust in Him, or by the pressure to produce visible success?
Dallas Willard once said, “The greatest issue facing the world today is whether those who are identified as Christians will become disciples—students, apprentices, practitioners—of Jesus Christ.” That word “apprentices” resonates with me. An apprentice does not simply aim for results; he learns the way of the master. To follow Jesus is to adopt His pace, His priorities, and His trust in the Father’s timing.
Today, I sense a gentle correction in my spirit. God is not asking me to be more efficient; He is asking me to be more faithful. He is inviting me to release the need to control outcomes and instead align my heart with His ways. That may mean taking a longer path, choosing integrity over speed, or trusting Him when the results are not immediately visible. But in that surrender, I find something deeper than success—I find communion with Him.
For further reflection on aligning our thinking with Christ, consider this resource: https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/think-gods-thoughts-after-him
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