Christian Almanac: Where Faith Meets Real Life
Episode 12 Transcript
Trust God, Don’t Test Him—And Be Careful Who Shapes You
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Are we supposed to test God?
Are we supposed to say things like, “God, if you’re really God, if you’re really omnipotent, then prove it by …” and fill in the rest with whatever you want, like
Sending me a financial windfall
Stopping a war
Healing a sick person that I love
Introducing me to the man or woman of my dreams.
This is one of those topics where, on the surface, it seems like the Bible contradicts itself.
Deuteronomy 6:16 says:
Do not put the Lord your God to the test as you did at Massah. (Deuteronomy 6:16, NIV)
In Luke, when Jesus was in the wilderness and being tempted by the devil, we’re told:
Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, to the highest point of the Temple, and said, “If you are the Son of God, jump off! For the Scriptures say,
‘He will order his angels to protect and guard you.
And they will hold you up with their hands
so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone.’”
Jesus responded, “The Scriptures also say, ‘You must not test the Lord your God.’” (Luke 4:9-12, NLT)
Over and over, the Bible tells us we are to trust and obey God, not to test him or ask him to prove himself.
And yet …
In Malachi, we read of the Lord saying this:
Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the Lord Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it. (Malachi 3:10, NIV)
So which is it? Is it okay to test God? Should we step in front of a speeding train to see if he’ll stop it? Should we take an action that seems rash and maybe even ill-advised and tell God to pull us out of the proverbial fire?
The answer lies in Scripture, and it’s actually clear and not contradictory.
The desire to test God usually arises during times of doubt or adversity. When our faith becomes conditional, it’s not faith. It’s a deal, a contract.
It sounds like this: “God, if you do this, then I’ll believe in you. If you fix this, then I’ll trust you. If you answer this the way I want, then I’ll follow you.” That’s not trust—that’s negotiation.
And negotiation puts us in the position of authority, as if we’re the ones setting the terms and God is the one who has to meet them. But Scripture never places us in that role. God is not accountable to us; we are accountable to him.
When we reduce faith to a transaction, we’re no longer relating to God as Father—we’re treating him like a vendor. We’re asking him to deliver a specific outcome on our timeline, according to our expectations. And if he doesn’t, we’re tempted to conclude that he has failed us.
But that reveals the deeper issue: we’re not actually struggling with whether God is able—we’re struggling with whether we trust him. And those are not the same thing.
It’s okay to test God in faith, but not in doubt.
Don’t test God by challenging him to prove anything, but test that he will keep his promises—because he always does.
It’s okay to say, “God, I’ve heard you. I understand what you’re telling me to do. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know you’ll be there and I trust you, so I will be obedient.”
It’s NOT okay to test God from a place of doubt, to ask God to prove himself with tangible signs because we lack faith in him.
Testing God is spiritually dangerous. We know that God does not always answer our prayers in the way or the time that we hope or expect. When we test God, we’re essentially saying that WE know better than he does—and we don’t.
When you distill it down, Christianity is not a difficult religion. We don’t have a lot of complicated rules to follow. Some denominations have more rituals than others, but those are the things created primarily by people, not God. In fact, when our faith gets complicated, it’s because of something we’re doing, not God.
But God does have some rules we’re expected to follow. Those rules center around love, faith, trust, and obedience.
We are supposed to trust God, not test him. We are not supposed to challenge his authority by asking him to prove something. We are to have faith, and faith is a two-way relationship in which trust is foundational not transactional. Our faith is rooted in reliance on God, not in trials or tests.
God is not a job applicant claiming to have certain skills that we need to verify. He is our heavenly Father, our creator, our redeemer, and the ruler of all things.
When you find yourself tempted to test God, stop and think about all the times in your life when he has been there, when he has provided, guided or been a source of strength and peace. Start keeping a journal of these times that you can turn to when you need to be reminded of God’s faithfulness.
It’s okay to ask God for clarity about situations, and then look for guidance in places such as scripture, discernment among friends, an unexpected message from an unusual source, or quiet personal reflection when you’ve allowed yourself to listen for him. That’s not testing, that’s creating a framework for understanding how God communicates with you.
Another thing that’s not testing is questioning. It’s okay to question God. He’s big enough to handle our doubts, frustration, and confusion. And he wants us to come to him when we need guidance and wisdom. But we should do that through supplication in prayer, not by making demands.
God does not NEED to prove himself to us, but he already has. Not always in the dramatic, undeniable ways we sometimes wish for—but in the steady, consistent ways that reveal his character over time.
In Scripture.
In his faithfulness across generations.
In the quiet ways he shows up in our lives—guiding, providing, strengthening, and sustaining.
So when you feel that urge to test him, pause. Shift the question. Instead of asking, “God, will you prove yourself to me?” ask, “Where have I already seen your faithfulness?”
Because faith doesn’t grow through demands. It grows through remembrance. It grows when we choose to trust what we already know to be true about him, even when we don’t yet see what he’s doing.
Trust him. Not because he’s met your conditions—but because he’s already proven his character. And because his character has never changed.
I’ll be back in a moment.
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Who is pouring into your life?
And who are you pouring into?
Another way to ask those questions is:
Who is discipling you?
And who are you discipling?
So often, when we hear the word disciple, we think of the twelve in the inner circle of Christ’s followers according to the Gospel accounts.
But a disciple is essentially a student—a follower or apprentice of a teacher. When used as a verb, disciple means to teach, train, or mentor someone in specific beliefs or practice. We generally use the verb disciple to refer to the active process of helping believers grow in their faith.
The term disciple is not often heard outside of a church context, but it happens everywhere, all the time. It’s not just a church thing, it’s a way of life.
That’s why it’s so important to understand who is discipling us. It’s not just the people and voices we’re hearing at church.
We’re being influenced all the time by our family, our friends, our business associates, our teachers.
By culture, by social media, by the news and entertainment we consume, by the leaders we listen to.
All of these people and things shape what we believe, how we think, and how we live.
We need to regularly ask ourselves this important question: Who are we allowing to speak into our lives?
Are we being discipled by people who will help us grow in wisdom, character, and faith? Or are our sources of discipleship causing us to pick up values, habits, and beliefs that move us away from where we truly want to be?
Proverbs 13:20 speaks to this directly:
Walk with the wise and become wise; associate with fools and get in trouble. (Proverbs 13:20, NLT)
The people we walk with, literally and figuratively, shape the direction of our lives.
It’s worth taking a pause and figuring out who is discipling you. Not just the obvious sources—a parent, a close friend, a pastor. But also the subtle and even insidious sources—social media, popular music, films, and television shows. And sometimes even religious leaders who have distorted the gospel.
Whether we consciously realize it or not, some voice is forming our thoughts, some influence is feeding our values, some example is teaching us how to live, how to love, how to speak, and how to respond.
We don’t become who we intend to be—we become who we follow.
And not just the main models, like our parents. The people and influences shaping us form a mosaic that defines our identity and our direction.
The question is not, “Are we being influenced?” The question is, “By whom?”
Who is teaching us what matters? Who is teaching us what to accept, to tolerate, to reject?
Who is teaching us how to live?
If we’re not careful, we can be discipled by influences that pull us away from truth—even when they don’t look dangerous at first. It can show up in the form of distractions, noise, culture, confusion and compromise. When that happens, we end up looking like those we’ve been listening to and not like who we were created to be.
That’s why we need to pay attention, to ask questions, to seek the truth. Not every voice that sounds wise actually is. Not every influence is holy. Not every community is calling us higher.
Romans 12:2 tells us:
Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect. (Romans 12:2, NLT)
Transformation doesn’t just happen, it requires intentional input and intentional influence.
Good disciples don’t just tell you what to do, they help you become more grounded, more wise, more honest, more loving, more rooted in truth. They encourage questions and even challenges. They point you toward clarity, not confusion. Toward growth, not pride. Toward conviction, not control.
A negative disciple pulls you away from the truth, while making the lies look normal and even attractive. They try to shape you through pressure, fear and compromise. Through small falsehoods that gradually become a lifestyle. They’re not always loud. They often sound familiar. They make disobedience feel harmless.
This isn’t just something to notice, it’s something to act on. It’s a call to evaluate and, when necessary, to make changes. To amplify certain voices and to limit others. To seek out better ones. To be intentional about what and whom you’re allowing to shape you.
The other side of the question, “Who is discipling you?” is “Whom are you discipling?”
No matter who or where you are, someone is watching your life. Someone is learning from the example you set. Someone is hearing what you say and how you say it. And someone is using you as they decide what to believe.
What are you teaching with your words? Your choices? Your attitude? With the way you live when no one is watching?
What kind of culture are you creating? What are you passing on? Is it truth, integrity, humility, and purpose? Or is it excuses, confusion, and compromise?
Jesus made his expectation clear in the Great Commission, when he said,
“Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you.” (Matthew 28:19-20, NLT)
We need to be careful and intentional about who has influence over us. And we have to be equally careful and intentional about what we take into other people’s lives.
Discipleship is never neutral. It always leaves something behind.
So let this be the question that stays with you:
Who is discipling me?
And whom am I discipling?
Because what shapes you will eventually come through you.
I’ll be back in a moment with this week’s real life tip.
If you’re listening to the Christian Almanac podcast, here’s a simple way to stay connected.
Join the email list, and every new episode will be sent straight to your inbox as soon as it’s available.
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Just a clear, timely update when a new episode is ready.
You’ll also receive Shareable Saturday, short meaningful messages you can read, reflect on, or pass along.
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What would happen if your files on Google Drive, Microsoft OneDrive, or Apple iCloud suddenly disappeared? Or if the material on Substack or whatever online publishing platform you use went away? Or if those accounts were shut down?
That’s what this week’s real life tip is about.
Creating, sharing, and storing content in the cloud is incredibly easy. And while it’s generally safe, there is always some level of risk. Platforms change. Policies change. Access can change. So how do you protect your information?
Keep backups in a place you own and control.
I use Google Drive daily. It’s a convenient way to access documents from multiple devices and share information with others who need it.
But I also regularly download those files to my computer’s hard drive, which is then automatically backed up to my Backblaze account.
My critical data is stored on digital real estate that I own.
An article in Freelance Writer’s Report reminded me of how important this is. It shared the experience of a group of romance authors who had been writing their manuscripts in Google Docs. Their stories were apparently pretty steamy. When Google flagged the content, their accounts were shut down for violating the platform’s terms of service. The authors couldn’t access their work, and they didn’t have backups.
Not only does that situation emphasize the importance of backups, it also highlights something else: you need to understand the terms of service of every platform you use.
When the platform belongs to someone else, the owner—or their lawyers or policymakers—gets to decide what can be stored on their servers. Be sure you know when and why your account could be closed or your data deleted.
Take a look at all the online platforms you use. Set up systems so that if you suddenly couldn’t access your information, you could still quickly and easily recover it from one or more backup resources you control.
Convenience is valuable, but control is essential.
Thanks for being here. See you next week.