Some things can’t be rushed: Healing. Forgiveness. Faith. And certainly not spiritual growth.
We live in a world of microwaved moments: flashy events, fast answers, viral inspiration. Growth doesn’t happen at the speed of a scroll or in the flicker of a Sunday service. True transformation resembles a long ascent. It occurs step by step, breath by breath. It unfolds over the course of many quiet miles.
I used to live for the mountaintop experiences. The rush of a spiritual high, the energy of a retreat, the clarity that sometimes comes in worship or prayer. And those moments matter, they point us toward something real. But I’ve learned the hard way that you can’t build a life of faith on peaks alone. You need the valleys. The switchbacks. The long stretches where nothing feels like it’s changing, and yet something deep inside you is.
Crock Pot Faith in a Microwave World
There’s an old metaphor I used years ago. I still believe in it. Spiritual growth happens in the slow cooker of faith; not in the microwave of the moment. But now, I’d say it a little differently. Faith isn’t a spark, it’s a fire built slowly over time, with soaked wood and steady breath. It’s the kind of fire that keeps burning through the cold nights, not just when the sun is shining.
Paul writes in Philippians 2:12,
“Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed – not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence – continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling.”
The word continue matters. It implies motion. Ongoing effort. This isn’t a one-time summit. It’s a thru-hike. It takes resilience.
And resilience, as I’ve come to understand it, is less about toughness and more about faithful return. It’s the willingness to keep showing up. To the trail, to the Word, to God even when it’s foggy. Even when your legs are tired, even when the last stretch nearly broke you.
In his book Winning the War In Your Mind, Craig Groeschel puts it this way: “Successful people do consistently.” This is what other people do occasionally. The same holds true for a faithful life. It’s built in small, consistent moments of trust, prayer, and surrender, repeated over time.
Audacity and Appetite
As Americans, we carry this audacious assumption: that we deserve the best, and we deserve it now. That’s why we invented the microwave. Fast, hot, convenient. We’ve become addicted to quick and easy solutions for almost everything, from food to faith. We crave instant gratification over long obedience.
But At our house, we still use the crock pot. A lot.
Why? Because the ingredients are whole, natural, and unprocessed. The flavors don’t just sit on the surface, they soak all the way through. The heat is slow and steady, and by the end of the day, you’re left with something rich, nourishing, and deeply satisfying.
Sure, it takes eight hours. But when it’s ready, it’s better for you. It feeds everyone at the table. And there’s always leftovers.
That’s what spiritual growth should taste like. Not a pre-packaged burst of heat, but a long simmer that leaves you changed at the core. Because real spiritual growth nourishes, stretches, and stays with you long after the fire dies down.
Dallas Willard offers a strong warning in Renovation of the Heart. He states, “The greatest threat to devotion to Christ is service for Christ that is unconnected to a deep inner life” (Willard, 2002). Faith without formation is just noise. Crock pot faith demands depth; not just doing for God, but being with God.
A Fire in the Cold
Years ago, I took a few men cold-weather camping in the dead of winter. We packed in with ATV’s, dragging gear through narrow trails under leaden skies. The air was biting, the terrain rugged, and everything we did required effort.
One morning, we built a fire before heading out for a full day of adventure. We hung a slow cooker over the flames. Inside it? A pot full of venison chili. We gave it a good stir and put the lid on. Then, we stoked the fire before leaving it to do its thing.
We spent the day breaking trail, navigating snowy climbs, pushing our bodies through freezing winds and steep paths. It was the kind of day that leaves your muscles sore and your spirit clear. But when we got back to camp; cold, worn out, and ravenous that chili was waiting.
It was rich. Full of flavor. Packed with nutrients. The fire had done its slow, steady work.
And man, did we need it.
That pot of chili reminds me of the kind of faith I want now; faith that sustains, not just excites. Faith that simmers, not just sparks. A steady flame fed by daily trust, not a flash fire built on hype.
The Sacred Simmer
That’s how God often works in our lives. Not with lightning bolts, but with long burns. Not with mountaintop epiphanies alone, but through the patient heat of presence. Slowly refining, feeding, and deepening us.
In my faith, I’ve stopped asking for instant clarity and started asking for lasting wisdom. I’ve learned to trust that what God is doing in the slow seasons is just as holy. It might even be more than what happens in the mountaintop ones.
There’s something sacred in the simmer. Something eternal in the ordinary. Stick with it. Keep showing up, trusting, lacing up your boots and taking the next step. You’ll notice that your roots have gone deep. Your resilience has grown stronger. And you’re no longer living for the moment… but walking in step with the One who’s never in a rush.
Further Reading
If this message resonates with you, you might also find encouragement and insight in these reflections:
- The Courage to Ask Why: Growth Begins with Brave Questions
Exploring how facing hard questions opens the door to deeper faith and transformation. - Anchor Points: The Quiet Practice That Grounds a Restless Soul
Practical steps to find stillness and steady your heart amid life’s noise. - Thin Air: Turning Points and the Power of Presence
Lessons on how showing up fully in hard moments reshapes our spiritual journey. - The Shadow and the Summit: Finding the Light in the Shadows Within
Reflections on embracing inner struggles and discovering hope on the path upward.