Faith in Jesus isn’t lost all at once. It happens in stages, and each one prepares the ground for the next attack.

STAGE ONE: It starts when truth stops landing in the heart — even truth sitting on the page of the Bible in front of you. The doctor’s report, the bank statement, the silence where relationships used to be: what can be seen, heard, and felt begins to outweigh the words and acts of Jesus. You do not deny Jesus exactly. You demote His acts and words to historical events that were for another time and people — a generation who were meant to launch a movement, but send it forth without His authority and power.

STAGE TWO: Once that erosion sets in, the next phase targets the moral pillars that keep you upright. Church becomes something to attend rather than an encounter with the Holy Spirit. Ritual replaces relationship. Those moments when you were once sure you heard God get reclassified into self-talk. Church creeds get recited from memory, but the words don’t quicken the spirit.

STAGE THREE: Then comes the crisis — sudden, sharp, and exactly as Jesus warned. The storm hits the man who built on rock and the man who built on sand alike. The outcome was decided before the storm arrived: collapse for the one on the sand, recovery and cleanup for the one on the Rock.

STAGE FOUR: And the crisis does what crises do — it makes fear, and fear opens a door to a “new normal.” From the outside, it can look like stability. From the inside, it’s a permanently reshaped reality you have agreed to live with. You are alive and breathing, but now you just get through your remaining days until Christ’s return or you pass away.

Below is an example of what this steady attack is like. You may know this person. You may be this person. The account below is not meant to shame, but to warn. God’s faith is a great treasure, and if the enemy can steal it, surrendering to our circumstances may follow.

DECONSTRUCTING YOUR FAITH—SHAMBLES ON THE LOT

STAGE ONE: TRUTH STOPS MATTERING — the doctor’s report carries more weight than Scripture. This is not a rejection of God or of Jesus’ sacrifice, but a quiet handover of authority from His promises to what we can see, hear, taste, smell, and touch.

“Sickness dominates my life and shapes almost every decision I make. I feel controlled by it. There’s constant monitoring, treatments, and pain replacing the freedom I used to have. Foods and simple pleasures that once brought me joy now feel permanently out of reach. It’s limited my choices and left me with the feeling that more has been taken from me than I will ever get back.

“I feel as though I spend my whole life trying to stay one step ahead of the bills. No matter how much I work, the money disappears as fast as it comes in. I worry that I will never have enough to stop working and that my future expenses will be more than I can afford. There is nothing left for the things I enjoy because every dollar has a purpose before I even earn it.”

STAGE TWO: THE PILLARS ERODE — Facts attack provision. This is the scene Jesus faced on a mountain with 5000 men, plus women and children. His disciples accepted the facts and said, “Send them away.” Jesus answered with faith, “You feed them.” And expected them to do so — through faith in Him with the authority and power He delegated to them. In stage two, our daily bread promise gets crowded out by the math of the bank statement, and the math always looks more certain than the promise.

“Work fills almost every hour of my life. There is no real break, no time to rest, and no chance to enjoy the hobbies that once made me happy. Years have passed while the things I hoped to do have sat untouched because earning enough to survive always comes first. It feels as though work has replaced living.”

This is routine work that robs us of our Sabbath rest. The joy that should come from something you do well becomes a fight against depletion.

“I spend much of my time alone. Few people reach out to me, and I rarely hear from anyone unless I start the conversation. There is no one to share life with, and my work schedule leaves little opportunity to build new relationships. The loneliness has become another burden that I carry every day.”

Isolation is where the “new normal” gets its foothold — community was one of the pillars, and its absence doesn’t feel like a crisis anymore.

STAGE THREE: THE RAPID-ONSET SHOCK — Then comes the crisis — sudden, sharp, and exactly as Jesus warned.

“I lost my job, found another, but then went ten days out of work because of sickness. This week, an emergency room visit — with no certainty yet of what comes next. I no longer feel free to live the life I want. My choices are dictated by obligations, responsibilities, and limitations that seem to grow with each passing year.

“I’m no longer free to come and go as I please. I feel as though disease and the demands of daily survival control every part of my life. Instead of living on my own terms, I wake up each day feeling confined by limitations that I cannot escape. Those limits have left me frustrated, discouraged, and unhappy, and there are days when I struggle to recognize the person I used to be. Each new loss adds to the feeling that life keeps taking from me without giving anything back.

STAGE FOUR: THE “NEW NORMAL” — This is the reshaped reality settling in. It does not arrive with a single storm, but in time becomes our permanent weather. Our choices are slowly replaced by obligations we cannot meet.

“My days are filled with things I have to do instead of things I want to do. Every decision requires caution, planning, or sacrifice, and I no longer feel free to make simple choices without thinking about the consequences. I spend much of my time managing limitations instead of enjoying life, and those restrictions have become part of my daily routine.

“There are many days when I feel worn down by the belief that nothing is going to change. I struggle to find anything to anticipate or plan for beyond getting through another day of work and responsibility. Life often feels like an endless cycle with no pause, no relief, and no clear expectation that tomorrow will be any different from today.

“When I think about the future, I expect more struggle than relief. I worry that my health will continue to decline, that financial pressures will keep me working for the rest of my life, and that I will never have enough time or resources to enjoy the things I once loved. I do not expect my circumstances to improve, and I often see the future as a continuation of the burdens I already carry. Because of that, my greatest hope is not for a better life here, but for the day Christ returns and my suffering comes to an end.

But here is where the story about a man who built on sand can pivot to a different ending. He witnessed another man survive the storm. Saw that his neighbor built on the Rock. Jesus calls us to, “Put my words into practice.” Not simply read His words, DO His words.

“And yet, even in all this, I’m thankful to God for what I still have, and I find my greatest comfort in my faith and in the companionship of my dogs and cats.”

We don’t know the outcome for the man who built on the sand. We don’t know if he started over on the Rock. But we have the Holy Spirit’s words on the matter: “Without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.”

If any of this resonates and you’re unsure how to rebuild on the Rock, reach out. There is no magic to enjoying the abundant life Jesus promised. The instructions are in plain view. But sometimes it helps to have someone walk with you and give you a “word” and a small degree of accountability.

Step One Today: Read the first three chapters of the Gospel of Mark. Each time you see someone encounter Jesus, imagine that is you. Because the truth is, through His Holy Spirit, in that story He is reaching out to you.

The quoted comments is a fictional composite drawn from years of conversations. If it sounds like you, it’s not — it’s your neighbor. Probably the one with the loud dog.