Better Than We Thought: From Containers to Calling
This post is part of a short series called Better Than We Thought, flowing out of a recent message I shared at my home church. The heartbeat of this series is simple: often, what God has already given us—faith, calling, formation, even Christ Himself—is deeper, stronger, and more formative than we initially recognize. These reflections are an invitation to slow down, deepen our roots, and learn to see more clearly the work God is already doing in us.
As I’ve been sitting with these reflections, one tension keeps rising to the surface.
It’s the tension between what we say we want God to do in us
and what we are actually willing to release so that He can do it.
We want growth.
We want clarity.
We want depth.
But often, we want all of it without disruption—without examining the containers we’ve grown comfortable living in.
There are seasons when growth doesn’t stall because it’s neglected—but because it’s contained.
Paul gives language to this in Colossians 2 when he warns believers about being taken captive by ways of thinking and living that are not rooted in Christ. Sometimes those influences are obvious. Other times, they feel normal. Even responsible. Even spiritual.
But over time, they begin to limit formation.
There are a few containers that tend to restrict growth in subtle ways—not because they’re evil, but because they’re too small for what God is growing.
The first container is religious practice without relational pursuit.
When reading our Bible becomes about completing another task on the list and not about meeting with the One revealed in the Bible, we miss the point of Scripture altogether. Practices are meant to be pathways, not substitutes. When disciplines replace dependence, faith becomes something we manage instead of something that forms us.
The second container is consumeristic preference over purposeful contribution.
You can’t be pastored by a podcast, and you can’t be shepherded well when your feelings are calling the shots on where you claim you want to root yourself. Discipleship fosters growth when devotion in relationship cultivates soil that allows roots to sink deep. Committing—fully—to a church and a people who will walk with you matters more than whether you feel like you’re “getting something out of it.”
The third container is spiritual façade over Spirit-fueled formation.
Having spiritual language without the depth of spiritual transformation becomes clear when our behavior consistently struggles to align with our claimed belief. When our faith is rooted in the intensity of our spiritual charisma rather than the consistency of our spiritual character, we’ve placed our roots in the wrong container.
And here’s the subtle danger:
Sometimes we restrict growth while trying to protect it.
This leads to another tension we need to name—the difference between how we talk about potential and how Scripture talks about power.
We often describe ourselves and others in terms of potential. “They have so much potential.” “One day, God could really use me.” Potential pushes everything into the future. It assumes that the most important work hasn’t arrived yet.
But Scripture doesn’t speak that way.
In Ephesians 3, Paul doesn’t pray that believers would receive something new. He prays that they would have the capacity to grasp what is already at work within them. Not potential—but power. Present, active, resurrection power already forming God’s people from the inside out.
Potential keeps us in control.
Power requires trust.
And trust leads us into formation.
Paul makes it clear in Romans 12 that transformation doesn’t come through more effort, but through renewed minds and surrendered hearts. Formation happens as God reshapes our desires, our instincts, and the frameworks we live within.
So here’s the invitation—and it’s important that it’s heard clearly.
The next step is not to do more.
It’s not to add another discipline, start another plan, or prove something through effort.
The invitation is to be rooted more deeply.
To stop managing your growth and start trusting God with it.
To release containers that once served you well but no longer have room for roots.
To stay planted long enough for formation to do its quiet, unseen work.
God never intended to grow houseplants in His people.
He intended to grow oaks.
And oaks don’t hurry. They don’t perform. They don’t strain to look impressive. They sink roots deep into good soil and grow strong over time.
If there is an action step here, it may be this:
Do less on your own so you can see Him doing more.
Let God do the work He is committed to finishing.
Let your roots go where effort never could.
Better Than We Thought is a series shaped by a simple conviction: God is often doing more in us than we currently have the capacity to recognize. Over the coming posts, we’ll continue to explore how gifts are discovered, how roots are formed, and how faith deepens over time. If you’d like to hear the full message that gave shape to these reflections, you can watch it here.
