Can a Christian Be Too Comfortable?

Comfort is not always a bad thing. There is nothing wrong with enjoying a peaceful home, a quiet evening, good food, or a season of rest. God gives many good things for us to receive with gratitude. But there is another kind of comfort that can become dangerous.

It is possible for a Christian to become so comfortable spiritually that he stops growing. He may still attend church. He may still believe the right things. He may still own a Bible, pray before meals, and call himself a Christian. But somewhere along the way, the hunger fades, the urgency disappears, obedience becomes selective, and conviction becomes easier to ignore.

The Christian life was never meant to become a place where we settle in and stop moving. Paul wrote:

“Not that I have already grasped it all or have already become perfect, but I press on if I may also take hold of that for which I was even taken hold of by Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:12).

Paul had walked with Christ for years. He had preached the gospel, suffered for the faith, planted churches, and taught others. Yet he did not speak as though he had arrived. He pressed on, and that should tell us something.

Spiritual maturity does not produce complacency. The more we know Christ, the more we should want to know Him.

Hebrews gives a serious warning to believers who had stopped growing:

“For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you have need again for someone to teach you the elementary principles of the actual words of God” (Hebrews 5:12).

They had been around long enough to mature, but they had not. Time alone does not make a Christian mature. A person can sit in church for thirty years and still remain spiritually weak if he refuses to grow, obey, study, and apply what he hears.

That is one of the dangers of comfortable Christianity. We begin to confuse familiarity with maturity. We know the songs, we know when to stand and sit, we know the language, and we know the stories. But knowing how Christianity works on the outside is not the same as becoming more like Christ.

James warned:

“But prove yourselves doers of the word, and not just hearers who deceive themselves” (James 1:22).

Hearing without obeying can create a false sense of spiritual health. We may think we are doing well because we hear good sermons, read Christian books, or know a great deal about the Bible. But if the truth never changes the way we live, something is wrong.

Comfort can also make us resistant to correction. When a person becomes settled in his habits, beliefs, and routines, he may no longer want Scripture to disturb anything. He wants encouragement without conviction, promises without commands, grace without surrender, and Christ as Savior without wanting Christ to speak as Lord.

Jesus said:

“If anyone wants to come after Me, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me” (Luke 9:23).

There is nothing comfortable about a cross. Jesus was not calling His followers to a life of misery, but He was making it clear that following Him involves surrender.

Sometimes obedience costs us something. It may cost pride, convenience, a relationship, money, time, reputation, or simply the right to have things our own way. That is where comfortable Christianity is tested.

Will we still obey when obedience becomes inconvenient? Will we still tell the truth when telling the truth may cost us something? Will we forgive when we would rather hold onto the hurt? Will we serve when no one notices, give when we would rather keep, and follow Christ when following Him puts us out of step with the people around us?

Jesus warned the church in Laodicea:

“I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot; I wish that you were cold or hot. So because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will vomit you out of My mouth” (Revelation 3:15–16).

Those are strong words. The Laodiceans had become satisfied. They said:

“I am rich, and have become wealthy, and have no need of anything” (Revelation 3:17).

But Jesus saw them very differently. Their greatest problem was that they did not realize how spiritually needy they were.

That is one of the most dangerous things about complacency. A person can become comfortable enough that he no longer knows he is drifting. He still looks Christian. He still sounds Christian. He may even be busy with Christian things. But the fire is gone.

Prayer becomes routine. Scripture becomes familiar rather than searching. Sin becomes something to manage rather than something to fight. Service becomes optional, and the gospel becomes something we believe but seldom talk about.

We should not confuse peace with complacency. There is a peace that comes from trusting God, and that is good. But there is also a comfort that comes from avoiding anything that challenges us. That is not spiritual peace. It is often spiritual laziness.

Paul told Timothy:

“Discipline yourself for the purpose of godliness” (1 Timothy 4:7).

Growth takes intention. We do not drift into holiness; we drift away from it. A strong Christian life requires attention. We must remain in the Word, pray, confess sin, obey what we understand, serve others, stay teachable, and keep our eyes on Christ.

None of that earns salvation. We are saved by grace through faith, but grace does not teach us to sit still. Paul wrote:

“For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all people, instructing us to deny ungodliness and worldly desires and to live sensibly, righteously, and in a godly manner in the present age” (Titus 2:11–12).

Grace trains us, changes us, and moves us toward godliness. That means a Christian should occasionally ask some uncomfortable questions about his own walk with Christ.

Am I still growing? Am I still teachable? Does sin still bother me? Do I obey only when obedience is easy? Have I become more interested in protecting my comfort than following Christ?

Those questions are not meant to create constant doubt. They are meant to keep us awake and remind us that the Christian life is not meant to become spiritually motionless.

A comfortable chair is a good place to rest, but it is a terrible place to live the entire Christian life. Christ did not call us to settle in. He called us to follow Him.

________________________________________________________________________

“What I write is not for everyone, but what I write is meant for someone.” – Dean Butler

This work may be shared for ministry or personal use, but please credit the author when doing so. © Dean Butler  | The Other Side of Amen | All rights reserved