Placeholders: Perseverance When Spiritual Disciplines Feel Pointless
Two years ago, my mom passed away from an aggressive neurodegenerative disease. The heartache of watching her suffer has now turned into the aching loss of her presence as I mother my own young kids. Between grief and the ordinary chaos of motherhood, many days are tangled with sorrow, making worship and spiritual disciplines like Bible reading and prayer feel detached and mechanical.
I find a question too readily on my lips: What’s the point?
Maybe you’ve felt it too. Yet when did we stop believing the mere act of presenting ourselves as living sacrifices to God is a worthy act of worship?[1] If apart from Christ, we can do nothing,[2] then even our weak attempts to commune with God are evidence of his Spirit working in us.
Worshiping Christ is available to us at every juncture of our day, whether driving to work or grocery shopping. But we also know worship happens in deliberate ways, where we pause life to look to our King. I like to call these “placeholders”—spiritual disciplines such as small group, Bible study, corporate gatherings, or prayer—because they protect space to intentionally submit to and worship Christ. But in many seasons of life, these are the very things that can seem most forced and unproductive.
What’s the point of reading and prayer if my brain is foggy?
I tiptoe down the stairs at 6:00 a.m., and I find myself staring at the pages of my Bible, reading and rereading the same verses. Whether it was the crying baby or sadness, restful sleep in this season evades me, making the ability to retain that much more difficult. By mid-afternoon, I can hardly recall what chapter of Isaiah I read. What’s the point?
God is faithful to use his Word to cut through our suffering and sin,[3] even while we struggle to understand what we’re reading. His Word is alive,[4] even when we feel dead inside. Scripture is renewing our mind,[5] even if we cannot consciously identify how that’s unfolding.
I may lack the words to pray as I sit in the dark, but prayer still strangely happens, even if I sit there quietly. Our High Priest sits at the right hand of God praying for us, with us, and through us.[6] So, we protect the placeholder of time with God, even if it feels circular and immeasurable, knowing that God is greater than our hearts,[7] and he promises to make his Word effective in our lives.[8]
What’s the point of family devotions if my kids aren’t paying attention?
The morning quiet passes quickly and my kids awaken. We shuffle around, getting ready for school. I buckle in our baby while our toddler screams and our oldest situates himself in his car seat. It’s time for our morning car devotional, which is often curtailed by whining or a slew of questions about unrelated matters. Sometimes, I read one Bible verse as we’re parked in our driveway, and I call it a day. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s even worth it.
But then I remember the other day, when our toddler proclaimed that Jesus loves him more than anyone else. Or the morning when another son unashamedly conceded that loving God is hard. Or the many times I’ve needed to hear my kids’ devotional lesson just as much as they.
So, we can keep working toward the placeholder of discipling our kids because teaching them about Christ means teaching them to give him their time and attention. Our own effectiveness isn’t the measure of discipleship’s value because it’s the Spirit of Christ that is doing the heart work. And the placeholder that makes us available to that faithful work is just further evidence of the Lord.
What’s the point of church when my kids are cranky?
The weekdays easily run together and before I know it, Sunday morning arrives—and we’re still exhausted from the week. Church feels arduous, and a screen feels comfortable. Cranky kids who won’t put on their shoes make me wonder what difference it makes if we go to church.
But then I remember how much we need the body of Christ. The Spirit works powerfully in us as we’re regularly surrounded by a room full of our spiritual brothers and sisters. Scripture tells us that Christ loves his church.[9] We each need to be stirred up towards love and good deeds as we gather, serve, and reflect Christ together.[10] So, we keep working for the placeholder of church involvement, knowing that fellowship with Christ’s body is for our mutual growth and encouragement, ultimately glorifying God.
A Season of Placeholders
When the disciplines of faith are clunky and convenience feels more peaceful, we can’t succumb to the lie that they are pointless. Christ is working even as we submit to the sometimes mechanical motions of worship. We may have young kids, great pain, significant chaos. But that proves it all the more essential that we dig in and set our roots squarely in the Vine.
Faith isn’t a box we check; our salvation is in Christ alone, devoid of any merit of our own. But like all ongoing relationships, our relationship with Christ also takes work. In chaotic or brittle phases of life, it’s often scheduled encounters—these beautiful placeholders—that keep our hearts soft before God’s throne. They help the time not specifically set aside for worship still be worship. Our moments spent with Christ on the couch can prime our hearts to hear from Christ while pumping gas. The hymns we sing in church or interactions we have in small group can turn our eyes to the gospel as we’re battling a new wave of sorrow, discipling our kids, or faithfully enduring mundane moments. It won’t always be this dry.
And when a sweeter, lighter season dawns, with it comes gratitude that Christ brought about fruitful structures that kept us abiding in him when our feelings failed to align. It was never us doing the work anyway.
[1] Romans 12:1
[2] John 15:5
[3] Hebrews 4:12
[4] Matthew 4:4, 24:35; John 6:63; 1 Peter 1:23
[5] Romans 12:2; 2 Corinthians 4:16; Ephesians 4:23; Colossians 3:16
[6] Romans 8:26, 8:34; Hebrews 4:14-16, 7:25
[7] 1 John 3:20
[8] Isaiah 55:11
[9] Ephesians 5:25-32
[10] 1 Corinthians 12; Ephesians 4; Hebrews 10:24-25
