Inspired by this sermon from Francis Chan

A sermon I heard recently keeps echoing in my mind. Not because the sermon shared new insight, but because it highlighted a familiar habit. Wanting more can appear harmless—even admirable—until it quietly becomes worship.

Not the obvious kind with incense and chanting. The everyday kind. The upgrade itch that never fully subsides.

When The Gospel Costs Something Real

In parts of India and nearby regions, following Jesus can come with a prison sentence. Pastors have lost years with their families because preaching and conversion break local laws. Imagine hearing that, then remembering how easily you get quiet about faith at work because the vibe feels awkward.

And then there were the Sisters of Compassion, women serving people with leprosy and others pushed out of society. The kind of places most of us would speed past with the windows up. They walk in, touch people, stay all day, and keep showing up. Their lives preach with no microphone.

That image stays with you. It pushes the idea of beauty beyond appearances and into something more substantial. Beauty starts to look like sacrifice, courage, and love that shows up in the hardest of times.

The Moment You Feel Small on Purpose

The sermon described a kind of holy embarrassment. Think about a gift exchange where everyone shows up with something costly, thoughtful and personal. Then you pull out a last second trinket you grabbed on the way. You smile, but inside you feel the gap.

That gap can turn into shame, or it can turn into repentance. I prefer repentance. It has movement and hope.

A lot of us talk about surrender the way a person talks about running a marathon. Big respect, great idea, maybe next year. Meanwhile, plenty of believers live it right now with bruises, risk, and real loss. Their lives remind me that devotion belongs in the body, not only in the head.

The Sin That Lives in the Upgrade Itch

Here is the part that hit me hardest. Coveting. The internal flinch when you walk past first class. The mental scroll through someone else’s life and the thought that you could use their house, their body, their career, or their peace.

We treat coveting like a minor offense, almost like a personality quirk. Scripture treats it like idolatry. It functions like worship because your heart bows toward the thing you want, then asks it to do what only God can do. Make me happy. Make me secure. Make me somebody.

The sermon connected this to an image from India. Huge idols built for worship. A massive statue feels obvious. A new car, shoes, or the perfect apartment feels normal. Same motion of the heart, different packaging. Modern idols come with better branding.

Advertising knows this trick. Every billboard, scroll, and glossy unboxing video aims at one goal. Turn gratitude into craving. You start thinking your life will finally click once you have the shoes, the car, the kitchen remodel, the followers, the whatever.

And that craving never stays satisfied. It always wants more.

Set Your Mind Higher

Colossians 3:2 gives a blunt reset. “Set your mind on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.” Treat your life like it belongs to Christ. Put the old cravings to death.

It sounds dramatic until you remember how dramatic you become when your phone hits 4 percent. If a phone can hijack your mood, your attention, and your compassion, then something bigger than willpower needs to step in.

Think of Psalm 23. The Lord as our shepherd. A cup overflowing. This image carries contentment. Enough to spill over. Enough to share. Enough to stop scanning the room for a better deal.

Dead To The Bait

Here’s an image that helps me.

Think about the stuff that usually hooks you. Someone else gets praised. Someone walks in with status. Someone has the car you wanted. Your social media feed shows a life that looks cleaner than yours.

A life fixed on God can feel free in the same way. Fully alive, yet unclaimed by the world’s levers. The bait still exists, but it stops owning you.

A Practical Detox that Actually Sounds Possible

One of the most convicting suggestions was simple. Fast from the noise.

For one person that meant ditching their phone and computer for a long stretch. No constant texts, no rapid fire emails, no frantic problem fixing. Just room to pray, to notice people, to sit with God in silence. A sort of spiritual cell where everything else quiets down.

It sounds extreme because our era treats constant access like oxygen. Half the time we live inside a dopamine loop that would fit perfectly in a Black Mirror episode. Buzz, swipe, check, refresh, repeat.

You do not need to copy the exact plan to catch the point. If something keeps stealing your attention, treat it like a real problem. Take a week. Delete an app. Turn off notifications. Leave the phone in another room. Go for a walk with no earbuds and let your mind settle. It’s jarring at first. Then it’s heaven.

Rejoicing As A Daily Practice

Another verse that keeps coming back to me. Philippians 4:4, “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.”

Rejoicing takes practice because your brain is usually in emergency mode. Solve. Respond. Control. Meanwhile, God sits in the background like a tab you forgot to click.

Rejoicing pulls God back to the center. It says, right now you are enough. Right now you are good. I have gifts right in front of me. Friends, family, breath in my lungs and grace that keeps showing up.

This kind of joy feels less like forced cheer and more like a reset button. It also breaks coveting at the knees, because a rejoicing heart has no time to audition idols.

A Small Challenge For This Week

Try one simple experiment for seven days. Pick one source of noise and remove it. Make a short daily window for quiet with God. When your mind reaches for craving, practice gratitude out loud. When anxiety kicks in, rejoice on purpose.

You might feel twitchy at first. That reaction is a teacher. And if you get even a glimpse of contentment, you will want more of the right kind of “more.”

A Question Worth Asking Today

So how are you doing with all of this?

Where does your mind drift when you get quiet? What do you reach for when you feel bored, anxious, or lonely? What do you daydream about owning?

These answers reveal what you trust to satisfy you.

Maybe the change you need involves money, attention, sexuality, comfort, or your phone. Maybe it involves your pace of life. Either way, the goal stays the same. Seek the things above. Enjoy God. Live like you already have a full cup.

And if your heart feels foggy, you can borrow this pray. God, help me see you clearly. Help me love you with my whole heart and mind. Help me stop trading my peace for the world’s shiny distractions.