In my early twenties, I realized something that deeply confused me about Christianity: everything felt like sin.

I was unsure about the entire system of religion, purpose, and conviction. Instead of feeling anchored, I felt afraid. Like I was walking on eggshells, constantly worried about doing the wrong thing and ending up in hell. I started questioning the rules that were supposed to protect me and wondering if there was another way to live both convinced and convicted without fear.

Here’s the honest truth: the world is messy, and organized religion often sits right in the middle of that mess.

I eventually decided that the system of religion didn’t work for me, but a relationship with God did. So I began a journey of faith outside of organized religion, one rooted in daily connection, reflection, and truth. Along the way, I started revisiting concepts I had never really understood, especially sin and how it relates to how we live and show up each day.

Yesterday, I had a quiet but powerful moment while journaling.

I’m currently studying fasting for strength, breakthrough, and discernment as part of my weekly faith guide, and I don’t approach anything blindly. I like to understand the why. After reading Daniel 10:1–3 and learning how Daniel fasted, I was intrigued. He ate no choice food, drank no wine, and used no fragrant lotions during his fast.

We often fast to gain clarity by denying things that bring comfort or pleasure through our senses. That realization made me pause. If these things aren’t sinful in themselves, why are they removed during a fast?

It led me to a deeper question I hadn’t fully explored before: What is sin, really?

I almost skipped it. It felt like a basic question. Until I realized I couldn’t actually answer it, at least not clearly. My mind went back to my twenty-year-old self, and this time I did what I should have done then. I researched it.

According to Merriam-Webster, sin is:

• an offense against religious or moral law

• an action that is considered highly reprehensible

• a serious shortcoming

• a transgression of the law of God

• a state in which the self is estranged from God

Reading those definitions stirred something in me.

My intent behind most of my choices was never to sin. It was simply to exist. To listen to music that moved me. To enjoy a drink socially. To experience beauty, connection, and pleasure. Were those things really wrong?

How could enjoying the senses God gave us automatically mean I was doing something wrong?

My faith in God never disappeared. What changed was my reliance on distractions.

And that’s when it clicked.

Some things aren’t sinful. They’re just sensory.

Sin is about disobedience.

Sensory is about stimulation.

We were created with five senses, and they are powerful. They can soothe us, distract us, regulate emotions, quiet discomfort, and create a temporary sense of peace. None of that is inherently sinful.

The problem comes when sensory experiences become our primary way of coping.

When that happens, they can quietly replace dependence on God.

This kind of dependence can make life feel pleasant, but it can also keep us from:

• fully feeling grief

• staying spiritually alert

• remaining sensitive to God’s presence

• resisting emotional numbing

Pleasure can dull perception without being wrong.

The real danger isn’t indulgence. It’s unconscious dependence.

We rarely ask, “Is this sinful?”

More often we ask, “Is this soothing me?”

Or, “Is this helping me not feel?”

And again, those questions aren’t bad.

But a better question might be:

Can I stay present without it?

That question changes everything.

I wish this kind of understanding had been taught more clearly. It wouldn’t have taken me forty years to arrive here.

This is the beauty of spiritual growth. While I do attend a non-denominational church on Sundays, it’s my daily anchoring and weekly faith rhythm that truly shapes how I show up. That is what feels like church to me.

 

If this stirred something in you…

This realization didn’t come from a sermon or a single verse.

It came from slowing down. From asking better questions. From creating space to listen.

That’s why I created my Weekly Faith Guide — not as a checklist, but as a steady rhythm for exploring Scripture, discernment, fasting, forgiveness, purpose, and the quiet places where God meets us.

If you’ve been longing for a faith practice that feels thoughtful, grounded, and honest — this guide is here when you’re ready.

👉 Explore the Weekly Faith Guide

And if not now, let this be your permission to pause and ask the deeper questions anyway.

Some growth doesn’t come from doing more.

It comes from becoming more aware.