Training, Not Trying: HOW SPIRITUAL STRENGTH IS REALLY FORMED

February often arrives quietly.

The urgency of January has faded, but the year is still young. For some, that brings

discouragement. The hopes they carried into the new year already feel heavier than expected. For others, February barely registers at all. Life has moved quickly, calendars are full, and spiritual growth feels like something to think about later. And for some, faith is steady but muted. Nothing is falling apart, but nothing feels especially alive either.

These are different experiences, but with the same underlying reality. Each of us is settling into patterns.

And that is the point, actually. Most of our days are shaped less by big decisions than by small, repeated actions. What we reach for when we wake up. Where our attention goes when we have a spare moment. What fills the quiet spaces of the day. These things often happen without much thought, but they quietly and firmly set the direction of our lives.

That’s why the question isn’t whether this year is shaping us. The fact is, it already is. The real question is how.

You see, in my experience, most people assume spiritual growth depends on good intentions and bursts of effort. If we care enough, try harder, or hang onto some new spiritual insight, we will become more faithful, more joyful, more Christlike. And when that approach doesn’t work, we tend to turn the disappointment inward. We assume we’re failing.

That’s where Scripture offers a profoundly different way to think about growth.

Consider the apostle Paul's instruction to his protégé, Timothy: “Train yourself for godliness” (1 Tim. 4:7). Notice that Paul doesn’t say try. He says train. And the difference in those two words really matters.

Trying depends on willpower in the moment. Training shapes who we become over time.

You already understand this distinction in other areas of life. No one prepares for a marathon by deciding to run harder on race day. Training happens through ordinary, repeated practices that slowly build strength. Over time, the body learns what to do because it has been trained to do it.

Spiritual growth works the same way.

Whether we notice it or not, our habits are training our hearts. They shape what we love, what we trust, and where we turn when pressure comes. Long before we make conscious spiritual choices, our routines are already forming us.

Jesus understood this.

Before His public ministry began, Jesus entered the wilderness.

Hungry and tested, He did not rely on raw determination. He relied on Scripture. Again and again, His response was simple and steady: “It is written.”

That response didn’t come out of nowhere. Jesus reached for Scripture under pressure because God’s Word was already close at hand. He had been formed by it. He had trained Himself in Scripture.

That’s what spiritual training looks like. It is not dramatic or flashy. It is faithful.

What’s more, one of the quiet mistakes we make is assuming that information alone transforms us. Knowing Scripture matters deeply, but Scripture forms us when it becomes part of our daily rhythm. It shapes us when it is read, remembered, spoken, and returned to again and again.

I’ve learned this the hard way. Trying harder has never produced lasting growth in my life. But training faithfully has.

Training doesn’t require perfection. It requires consistency. Missing one day doesn’t undo what God is doing. Growth comes from continual returning, not perfect performing, from staying with the practice even when it feels ordinary.

This conviction is at the heart of Back to the Bible’s ministry. We believe Scripture is not just something to be studied but something to be absorbed into everyday life. When believers engage God’s Word regularly, even briefly, something begins to change. Over time, Scripture becomes the lens through which we interpret our fears, resist temptation, and sustain genuine hope and peace.

The point is this: Spiritual strength grows quietly. It grows when Scripture becomes the first voice we attend to rather than the last one we consult. It grows when God’s Word is close enough to be spoken as life presses in. It grows when we stop measuring growth by how motivated we feel and start paying attention to what we are training ourselves to love.

So, if February finds you busy, discouraged, distracted, or simply unsure where spiritual growth fits into your life, take heart. You are not failing. You are being formed.

The invitation before us is simple. Choose training over trying. Choose one small, faithful practice rooted in Scripture. Return to it without drama or despair. Trust that God works through ordinary faithfulness to produce lasting transformation.

You don’t drift into godliness. But you can be trained for it. And God is patient, present, and faithful in every step of the training.