INTRO

There’s this old phrase you’ve probably heard before: garbage in, garbage out. Programmers use it to describe bad data producing bad results. Nutritionists use it to shame us for eating nachos at 10pm. And today… I’m using it to talk about your soul. So buckle up.

Because here’s the truth: what you feed your heart will eventually shape your life.

Your inputs shape your outputs.

Your consumption shapes your character.

Your habits shape your desires.

And often… we don’t even realize it’s happening.

Now, let me start with a confession.

When Stranger Things first came out — season one — my wife Laura was out of town. And I thought, you know what, I’ll just watch an episode. Just one. A little taste. A responsible, adult human amount.

Well… fast-forward about a day and a half, and I had consumed the entire season. I didn’t even know I had that kind of endurance in me. I learned two things that weekend:

1. I apparently can live without sleep.
2. Netflix asks, “Are you still watching?” with increasing judgment the longer you go.

Then — because marriage is built on love, trust, and watching shows together — when Laura got home that weekend, I watched the whole thing again so she didn’t miss out.

So yes… I watched season one twice in about 48 hours. My brain was basically 70% synth music and Demogorgons by the end.

But here’s what stuck with me: after that binge, I noticed a shift. My thoughts, my mood, even my imagination… all of it was shaped by what I consumed. The world felt just a little more eerie. Every flickering light made me suspicious. Every awkwardly tall person looked like a potential monster.

Why?

Because your inputs don’t just sit in your mind — they form you.

They disciple you.

They shape your affections, your fears, your desires, your imagination.

And if that’s true about TV shows…

If that’s true about movies, and social media, and YouTube rabbit holes, and games, and news cycles…

…then it’s just as true in our spiritual lives.

Psalm 1 paints this picture of two kinds of people:

• the one who is shaped by the noise and counsel of the world
• and the one whose delight is in the law of the Lord

And the imagery is stunning — one life is like chaff blown away by the wind, the other is like a tree planted by streams of water, nourished, steady, fruitful.

**The difference isn’t the tree. It’s the inputs.It’s what they’re planted in.It’s what they’re feeding on.

And today, I want to invite you — gently, warmly, honestly — to reflect on your own inputs.

Your own habits.

Your own attention.

Your own consumption.

Because what goes in… will eventually come out.

And if we want to abide in Christ — to actually experience a life shaped by Him — then we need to pay attention to what’s shaping us the other 167 hours of the week.

Let’s jump in.

SECTION 1 — Your Inputs Shape Your Outputs

Have you ever noticed how your mindset can completely shift after watching something? Like… you were perfectly normal a few hours ago, and now suddenly you’re acting like you’re the main character in an action movie?

This happened to me once after watching a movie with a lot of fast cars and street racing. One of those films where everybody has perfect hair, perfect reflexes, and absolutely zero regard for traffic laws. You know the type.

I walked out of that theater convinced that I, too, was a key part of an elite underground racing syndicate. I got in my car, turned the ignition, and instantly felt like the fate of the world depended on how quickly I could get home. I’m not proud of this, but I drove faster than I should have. Like… legitimately faster. My brain was in full “save humanity” mode. And the wild part?

That feeling stuck with me for hours.

Why?

Because what you consume doesn’t politely stay on the screen.

It crawls into your imagination.

It alters your emotional chemistry.

It shapes your desires.

It shifts your mood.

It forms your instincts.

Your inputs shape your outputs.

It’s easy to think of spiritual formation as something that only happens during “spiritual activities” — reading Scripture, praying, worshiping, going to church. But the deeper truth is this:

You are being spiritually formed every day.

On purpose or on accident.

By design or by drift.

Through Scripture or through noise.

Every podcast, every YouTube video, every playlist, every show, every scrolling session is doing something to your soul. It’s training you, discipling you, molding you in small, subtle ways that become big outcomes over time.

Think about it:

If you consume hours of angry political commentary every week, you will not be spiritually neutral afterward.

If you consume endless highlight reels of other people’s lives, your heart will start craving comparison like it’s oxygen.

If you consume fear-driven content, anxiety will start to feel like wisdom.

If you consume noise constantly, silence will feel threatening.

If you consume garbage… well…

Garbage in, garbage out.

Now, I’m not saying this to shame anybody. I’m saying it because this is a principle God wired into creation. Even Jesus talked about it: “A good tree bears good fruit. A bad tree bears bad fruit. A tree is known by its fruit.” That wasn’t a botany lesson — it was a spiritual principle.

The fruit of your life — your words, your decisions, your reactions, your desires — always grows from what you’ve been feeding on.

Proverbs 4 says, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”

Not some things.

Not spiritual things.

Everything you do flows from what’s happening inside you.

Which means everything you allow inside your life matters.

When we feel spiritually dry, or anxious, or irritable, or distracted, we often ask, “What’s wrong with me?”

But a better question might be, “What have I been consuming?”

Because sometimes the problem isn’t your faith.

It’s your inputs.

If all week long you’ve been feeding your soul spiritual junk food, then by the time Sunday rolls around, of course you’re exhausted. Of course you feel “off.” Of course worship feels dull. Of course it’s hard to pray. Of course your mind wanders during Scripture.

You didn’t suddenly become spiritually weak.

You’ve just been spiritually underfed.

If we want to abide in Christ — really abide — then we have to take seriously the things that shape our minds and hearts Monday through Saturday, not just Sunday morning.

Which leads perfectly into the next section — because some of the most powerful “inputs” shaping our spiritual lives aren’t the ones we think of as dangerous at all.

They're the ones we treat as harmless.

Like games.

Movies.

Shows.

Songs.

And the very subtle ways they stretch our imagination.

Let’s talk about that next.

SECTION 2 — Entertainment Is a Discipleship Path

Some people think the only things that shape our spiritual lives are the “big, heavy, serious” categories — theology, doctrine, church attendance, the deep stuff.

But honestly?

Your imagination is often discipled more by the things you don’t think of as discipleship tools.

Let me tell you a very real, very ridiculous example from my own life.

Years ago, I played World of Warcraft — and not casually. I played for, like, six straight hours one evening. I was in it. My character was leveling up, fighting monsters, looting treasure, and — most importantly — skinning animals. That was part of the skill set: you kill something, you skin it, you use the pelts to make armor or bags.

Totally normal behavior in-game.

Totally insane behavior in real life.

I logged off, grabbed my keys, and headed out to get dinner. I’m walking outside, stretching my legs, feeling like a champion of Azeroth… when suddenly a raccoon darts across the road.

And without even thinking, my first instinct — deeply sincere, fully automatic — was:

“I should try to kill and skin that.”

I’m not kidding. That thought came out of nowhere. I didn’t choose it. I didn’t invite it. My brain was simply… formed. It was shaped by six hours of the same activity, repeated over and over, until my instincts took on the pattern of what I consumed.

Now obviously (and you’ll be thankful to know this), I did not follow through with that instinct. No raccoons were harmed in the making of this sermon. But that moment opened my eyes to something deeper:

Entertainment isn’t neutral.It forms us.It shapes us.It disciples us.

And listen — I’m not saying entertainment is evil. I’m not telling you to burn your TV, sell your Xbox, or fast from Disney+ until Jesus returns.

But we have to be honest about the influence these things have.

When you spend hours in a story where sarcasm is the main language, don’t be surprised when sarcasm slips into your relationships.

When you watch shows where everyone is cynical and hopeless, don’t be surprised when hope feels foreign.

When you consume content filled with lust, you train your heart to see people as visuals instead of souls.

When you binge stories about revenge, betrayal, violence, or constant drama… don’t be shocked when your own emotional landscape starts mirroring that tone.

Your imagination is one of the primary battlegrounds of spiritual formation — and entertainment shapes imagination more than almost anything else.

Imagination isn’t childish.

Imagination is where you picture the good life.

Where you define what’s desirable.

Where you decide what “makes sense” in the world.

Where you envision your future.

Where sin becomes appealing or holiness becomes beautiful.

Whatever captures your imagination…

eventually captures your desires…

and whatever captures your desires…

eventually captures your life.

So the question isn’t, “Is entertainment bad?”

It’s, “What is my entertainment doing to me?”

Is it shaping me toward love or cynicism?

Toward gratitude or comparison?

Toward peace or anxiety?

Toward holiness or compromise?

Toward abiding or drifting?

Because what you take in — even passively — eventually comes out.

In your emotions.

In your habits.

In your decisions.

In your spiritual hunger.

And if you’re not intentional, entertainment quietly becomes your primary discipler while Jesus gets whatever leftovers are still awake when you collapse into bed.

But it doesn’t stop there.

This shaping happens not only in moments of entertainment… but in the quieter, more subtle seasons of life, too — including the ones where we drift without realizing it.

Let’s talk about that next.

SECTION 3 — The Slow Fade From Abiding

One of the most dangerous spiritual realities we face isn’t rebellion…

it’s drift.

Very few people wake up one morning and say,

“You know what? Today seems like a great day to abandon spiritual disciplines and live entirely on my own strength.”

No — it happens slowly.

Quietly.

Subtly.

Over time.

Almost unnoticeably.

And that’s exactly what happened to me in one season of my life.

Shortly after Laura and I got married, we moved about two and a half hours away from our families. New town. New rhythms. New life. And as excited as we were to build our future together, there was one thing we didn’t have:

A church home.

We visited places here and there, but nothing seemed to fit. And weeks turned into months. Months turned into years. And without even realizing it, our Sunday mornings filled up with… well… everything else.

Work.

TV shows.

Outdoor activities.

Breakfast runs.

Sleeping in.

Basically anything that wasn’t church.

And I want to be clear — we weren’t anti-church. We weren’t mad at God. We weren’t walking away.

We just drifted.

But drift has consequences.

During those years, I felt spiritually empty. Not in a dramatic, crisis-of-faith kind of way — more in a slow, dull ache kind of way. Like I was living life on autopilot. Haphazardly. Without direction. Without clarity. Without that steady anchor I had known before.

And here’s the part that surprised me:

I didn’t notice the emptiness until I started tasting fullness again.

Because finally — after what felt like a long, dry stretch — we found a church family. A community that welcomed us. People who encouraged us. Leaders who poured into us. Friends who called out God’s work in our lives. We started serving. We started connecting. We started showing up again.

And the Lord did something in me.

He recaptured my heart.

He reignited desire.

He restored hunger.

He made my pursuit of Him intentional again.

And that season taught me one of the most important lessons of my spiritual life:

Drift happens when your inputs shift.Abiding happens when your habits align.

For years, my inputs were everything except spiritual nourishment. Not sinful things — just neutral things. Good things. Enjoyable things. But they didn’t feed me. They didn’t form me. They didn’t shape me into someone who abides in Christ.

I wasn’t bearing fruit.

I was just… existing.

Jesus said in John 15,

“Apart from Me, you can do nothing.”

Not “you can do fewer things.”

Not “you can do things less effectively.”

Nothing.

That’s the spiritual reality of drift:

you can keep moving, keep working, keep living life…

but nothing you’re doing is spiritually fruitful because you’ve disconnected from the Vine.

And because the drift is slow, you don’t notice the effects until you suddenly realize…

“I’m not bearing any fruit. I’m surviving spiritually, not thriving.”

But here’s the hope:

The same small steps that lead to drift can also lead to life.

The same tiny choices that pulled you away… can be redeemed to pull you back.

Sometimes all it takes is plugging into community again.

Or opening the Word even when you don’t feel it.

Or choosing to show up.

Or rediscovering rhythms that draw your attention back to the Lord.

And that leads us right into the next section — because abiding doesn’t start with huge changes. Abiding starts with replacing your inputs, little by little, with something better.

Let’s talk about that.

SECTION 4 — Replacing Inputs: The Better Invitation

One of the biggest mistakes we make in spiritual growth is thinking the solution is simply to stop consuming bad or unhelpful things.

Just cut out the junk.

Turn off the noise.

Delete the apps.

Cancel the subscriptions.

Walk away from the distractions.

Easy, right?

Except… it’s not.

Because your heart can’t live on “less.”

It needs “more.”

It needs something better.

Abiding doesn’t happen by subtraction alone — it happens by replacement.

And I learned this the hard, awkward way.

A few years ago, I started a new rhythm: beginning my day with prayer and Scripture reading. Nothing dramatic. Nothing ultra-spiritual. Just… opening the Word and giving God my attention before the day demanded it.

And honestly?

It felt mechanical at first.

Robotic.

Dry.

Like I was checking off a box on a spiritual chore list.

There were mornings when I sat there half-asleep, blinking through the fog, wondering if my brain was absorbing anything.

But I started.

And I kept going.

And slowly — almost imperceptibly at first — something shifted.

Those early minutes became an anchor.

A stabilizer.

A re-centering moment.

A way of telling my soul, “Before I give my attention to anything else, I want it shaped by Him.”

Now, years later, I genuinely can’t imagine my day without that rhythm.

Even when I wake up tired.

Even when I feel rushed.

Even when the kids are up early.

Even when I know I have a thousand things waiting for me.

That early time with the Lord doesn’t just dump information into my mind — it reshapes my inputs for the entire day.

Because here’s the truth:

You don’t drift toward spiritual formation. You drift toward distraction.But you move toward abiding through intention.

And intention doesn’t have to be complicated.

It could be:

• Replacing 10 minutes of morning scrolling with 10 minutes of Scripture
• Swapping out the chaotic playlist with worship or silence
• Listening to a sermon on your commute instead of news commentary
• Turning off the TV 20 minutes early to end the day with prayer
• Putting your Bible in front of your coffee maker so you literally can’t avoid it
• Choosing one night a week to unplug and rest instead of bingeing content

Small replacements.

Small adjustments.

Small shifts in input that create enormous shifts in output.

Because the more you feed your heart the things of Christ, the more your heart will begin to desire the things of Christ.

The more you make space for Him, the more aware you become of His presence.

The more you plant yourself by streams of living water, the more fruit you actually bear.

And what starts as a mechanical rhythm slowly becomes a meaningful one.

What starts as discipline becomes delight.

What starts as habit becomes hunger.

This is why Jesus says, “Abide in Me.”

Not,

“Try harder.”

Not,

“Clean up your act.”

Not,

“Stop being so distracted.”

Just:

Abide.Stay.Remain.Make your home in Me.

And the best way to abide is to intentionally replace the inputs that starve your soul with the ones that feed it.

Which leads us to the final section — the challenge for this week, and a story from your life that fits perfectly with it.

SECTION 5 — One Small Step: This Week’s Challenge

If you’re anything like me, your mind tends to latch onto whatever happens to be interesting in the moment — and you don’t just “like” it, you dive into it. Headfirst. Full send.

Over the years, I’ve cycled through more hobby obsessions than I can count. Video games. Board games. Woodworking. Cooking. Playing instruments. Building websites. Starting businesses. Even this podcast. And right now?

Home automation shenanigans.

Like… deep in the weeds.

I’m watching videos, reading forums, researching devices I absolutely do not need. It’s a whole thing.

And none of these hobbies are bad.

They’re fun.

They’re creative.

They give us life in really good ways.

But here’s what I’ve learned — the hard way and multiple times:

Whatever gets your attention will eventually shape your affection.And whatever shapes your affection will eventually shape your direction.

When I let a hobby — or a show, or a game, or a project — consume every spare moment, every conversation, every free mental cycle, my walk with the Lord doesn’t crash dramatically… it just quietly drifts.

Not because the hobby is sinful.

Not because the content is toxic.

Not because I'm rejecting God.

But because I’m feeding my mind everything except Him.

And without intentional inputs, my heart — slowly, subtly — stops abiding.

So lately, I’ve been asking myself a simple but uncomfortable question:

“What has my attention right now… and is it forming me toward Christ or away from Him?”

And honestly?

Sometimes the answer is:

“Yeah, this is fine. This is healthy.”

And sometimes the answer is:

“Wow… I’ve let this thing take over.”

So I’m learning to moderate my inputs.

Not eliminate everything fun.

Not become hyper-religious or ascetic.

Just… moderate.

Pay attention.

Redirect my habits before they redirect me.

And that leads straight into the challenge I want to give you this week — something incredibly simple but potentially transformative.

This Week’s Challenge:

Replace one daily input with something that stirs your affections for Christ.

Just one.

Not five.

Not a whole lifestyle overhaul.

Just one intentional replacement.

Here are some ideas:

• Replace 15 minutes of scrolling with 15 minutes in Scripture
• Replace a morning playlist with worship or silence
• Replace a nightly show with a prayer walk
• Replace a podcast episode with a sermon or devotional
• Replace late-night YouTube with a chapter of the Gospels
• Replace your drive-time noise with a few minutes of quiet reflection

Not to “be a good Christian.”

Not to impress God.

Not to earn anything.

But to feed your soul something better.

To plant yourself closer to the stream.

To give the Holy Spirit room to work.

Because if “garbage in, garbage out” is true…

then the opposite is true as well:

Grace in, grace out.Truth in, truth out.Scripture in, Scripture out.Peace in, peace out.Jesus in… Jesus out.

You don’t drift your way into spiritual transformation.

You choose your way there, one small input at a time.

And I promise — if you give the Lord even a little extra room this week, if you carve out even one intentional replacement, you will taste the difference.

You will feel it.

Your mind will begin to shift.

Your heart will begin to breathe again.

Your soul will start leaning back toward abiding.

One small step.

One small replacement.

One intentional choice.

So ask yourself right now:

What’s the one input I need to replace this week?

Name it.

Write it down.

Tell a friend.

And do it.

Because that one decision — that tiny shift in input — could ripple outward in ways you never expected.

OUTRO — “Garbage In: Garbage Out”

As we wrap up today, I want to remind you of something simple but powerful:

You are being shaped every single day.

Not just by the big, defining moments…

but by the quiet habits…

the small patterns…

the steady stream of inputs that fill your mind and heart.

And the truth is, you don’t have to overhaul your life to experience spiritual renewal.

You don’t have to become a monk.

You don’t have to reject technology, swear off hobbies, or unplug forever.

You just have to make one small, intentional choice:

replace one input with something that draws you closer to Jesus.

Choose the better thing.

Create just a little bit of space.

Feed on something that brings life instead of noise.

Because when you do, something beautiful happens:

your heart begins to recalibrate…

your mind becomes clearer…

your desires shift…

your soul finds rest…

and abiding suddenly feels possible again.

Not because you tried harder…

but because you turned your attention back to the One who gives life.

So this week, take that one step.

Make that one replacement.

Give God just a little more room to shape you.

You’ll be amazed at what He can do with even a small yes.

Small ripples can make a big impact—go make yours.