I remember one of the last times I spoke with my dad before he passed.
I’d given him a ride to the store, and as he got out of the car, I noticed a perfect-sized rectangle in his back pocket.
Knowing he was trying to quit drinking, I was surprised when he pulled out a Bible.
“You carry a Bible around?” I asked with a chuckle.
He smiled and said, “Yes. I have to study the Word if I plan to make it to heaven.”
I don’t know if he ever fully stopped drinking after that—but when he passed from organ failure and ended up on life support, I often thought back to that moment.
He was trying.
He was reaching.
He was convinced… but maybe not yet convicted.
I’ve watched many people, both in real life and online, hold tightly to God and worldly things at the same time.
People who post verses but leave cruel comments.
People who share bits of faith but live in ways that don’t align with what they profess.
Just like my dad, I see glimpses of effort—glimpses of belief—but also the struggle to live it out.
It’s no easy thing, walking from being convinced to being convicted.
But here’s what I’ve learned through both study and observation:
• Being convinced is intellectual—it’s belief about God.
• Being convicted is spiritual—it’s transformation through God.
Convinced people may know Scripture but treat it like philosophy.
They can quote it, discuss it, and even defend it—but it doesn’t reshape how they live.
Conviction, though—it moves from the head to the heart.
It’s what makes someone repent, forgive, obey, or extend grace even when no one’s watching.
Conviction roots us.
It’s the Holy Spirit saying, “This is the way—walk in it.”
Convinced people can acknowledge truth.
Convicted people embody it.
There’s a difference between believing in something and being changed by it.
Some people treat faith as information. Others, as transformation.
The difference isn’t about perfection.
It’s about presence.
When truth reaches your heart, it changes how you see, love, forgive, and respond.
Conviction humbles you.
It quiets the ego.
It makes you softer and stronger at the same time.
I’m not here to judge anyone’s walk. I’ve had my own seasons of surface-level belief.
But I’ve learned this: a relationship with God isn’t about knowing of Him.
It’s about being known by Him—and allowing that knowing to shape you, every single day.
I’ll end with the same question I asked myself nearly fifteen years ago:
Do you think you might be expecting faith to look or feel a certain way?
I did.
And after three years of walking outside the walls of organized religion—anchored and rooted instead in God’s Word—what I now experience is far greater than anything I once expected.