I am forty five today, but looking back over my life, I can truly say I grew up in a home marked by godliness. In the thirty eight years before this moment, I cannot recall a single time where I witnessed my parents sin in front of us. There was no profanity in our home. No drinking. No fussing. No fighting. Now for me and my five siblings, we cannot share that same testimony. But for our parents, righteousness was the atmosphere we breathed.

Even with their example, we understood we could not depend on their salvation to save us. We each needed our own relationship with God. I knew that for myself at sixteen years old when I was filled with the Holy Spirit.

Scripture says, Behold, I was shapen in iniquity and in sin did my mother conceive me. That is literally my story. My parents had me before they were married, but only five days after my birth, my mother received the Holy Spirit, and my father shortly afterward. They married soon after that and built a home grounded in the word of God.

Some of my earliest memories were Saturday mornings filled with gospel music echoing through the house. Other mornings I woke up at five hearing my parents praying. When they disagreed, they went to the word to resolve it. No yelling. No chaos. God had the final say in that house. We were in church four days a week, and I grew up watching people genuinely live what they preached. That environment shaped everything about me

It was a home filled with love, peace, and integrity. And I am grateful for it. But there was another side to this upbringing, something I had to learn the hard way. Growing up in church can lead to the kind of self deception that blinds you to your own flaws.

When you are raised around God and scripture, it becomes easy to overlook unchristlike areas in your own life while clearly seeing the faults of others. You can know scripture, serve in ministry, and still become self righteous without realizing it. You begin to measure your righteousness by what you do not do rather than by who you are becoming.

I was that child. I can laugh now thinking about how a friend of my family begged my father to lock my five year old self in the closet whenever he came to visit because I would meet him at the door with my finger pointed, ready to condemn him for things that were not even biblically wrong. And the hilarious part is that I was not baptized, had not been to the water, was not converted, and had no spiritual standing whatsoever. My little southern self was not even right, but I acted like I had the authority to correct the world.

My association with my family and church made me believe I had the right to judge people while ignoring my own heart. I had the nerve to assign labels to others while I was still lying and sneaking cookies out of the cookie jar. I was young, but the mindset was very real, and many believers still experience it today.

This mindset keeps Christians from being reachable and relevant. It prevents us from winning souls because we approach people with superiority rather than compassion.

I learned that lesson in high school. I had just given my life to Christ and felt a burning desire to tell others what God had done for me. I stood in the courtyard during lunch wondering how I should begin. I had two choices. I could beat people over the head with the gospel the way I did as a child, or I could minister with humility and approachability while still holding to my convictions.

I chose the latter. By the middle of the school year, almost one hundred students were attending our campus Bible study. I believe it grew that way because we offered truth with love and consideration. We ministered Christ with grace.

In twenty two years of walking with God, I have learned how to be a witness, and I owe much of that to my leaders and the many lessons God taught me along the way.

I also learned the danger of self deception. It happens when we start thinking too highly of ourselves and forget that we are human with frailties. The moment we forget that God is the One working through us is the moment pride begins its slow takeover. Humility keeps us mindful that if someone’s life is transformed through something we said or did, the glory belongs to God alone.

Let me paint a picture. Imagine someone gives me a precious gift to deliver to you. This gift is something you deeply desire and desperately need, something you cannot afford and could never obtain on your own. The giver made tremendous sacrifices to provide it. My job is simply to deliver it intact.

How foolish would I be to take credit when the gift is finally in your hands. That would be like a UPS driver claiming he bought your package. That is how ridiculous it is when ministers take credit for what God is doing through them.

God entrusts us with words, wisdom, healing, teaching, encouragement, and revelation so that others can receive the gift He intended for them. When we deliver it, we must always point back to the Giver. That posture keeps us from pride, deception, and becoming idols in the eyes of others.

Self deception happens often in leadership when we cultivate ministry more than we cultivate intimacy with God. We get used to operating in our gifts and enjoying the applause of people. Before we know it, we mistake the crowd’s approval for God’s approval.

We have all known ministers who preached powerfully, performed miracles, and influenced masses, yet their private lives did not reflect the God they proclaimed. How is that possible

It is possible when you ignore your conscience. You can be gifted but spiritually empty. You can minister to others while starving yourself. You can be used by God, but disconnected from God. Remember Samson. Strength remained for a season, even as intimacy declined.

I have been there. I have had moments where I spent ten minutes in prayer and then led worship or ministered to God’s people. Seeing lives touched by the anointing can deceive you into thinking your devotional life does not matter. But it does. Our gifts can function, but our spirits cannot flourish without communion with God.

We must stay honest with ourselves. We must remain aware of who we are when the stage lights are off and no one is watching. If you know you are struggling, do not allow the praise of people to justify what you need to fix. Their words should motivate us to heal, not cover our wounds.

What if you have already fallen into self deception What if you drifted away from God inwardly while remaining active outwardly How do you recover

Sometimes healing begins with stepping away from the noise to assess your spiritual health. Healing means growing, mending, and becoming sound again. You cannot skip the healing process. You must go to God and allow Him to treat you. Deception bruises the spirit. Wounds weaken the soul. When your spirit is broken, confused, or drained, every area of your life reflects it. You must acknowledge the wound before you can heal from it.

Healing also requires the right diet. When the body is weak, it cannot handle solid food. It needs broth before it can handle meat. In the same way, when someone is spiritually wounded, ministers must approach them with gentleness, wisdom, and compassion. Not softness, but sensitivity. We must administer truth in a way that helps rather than harms.

Galatians 6:1 teaches us to restore one another in the spirit of meekness, considering ourselves. Paul understood that restoration requires humility. When we treat people the way we want to be treated, we avoid injuring those who are already in pain.

I remember when my mother had a stroke. My sisters and I assisted her with everything, asking questions constantly. Does this hurt Do you feel pain on this side Should we move you this way We wanted to help without adding pain. This is what ministry should look like. Truth with tenderness. Correction with compassion.

Even though we all experience hurt and deception, healing is always possible. You may have experienced manipulative teaching or harmful doctrine. You may have given up things that were never sin, or trusted leaders who misused your sincerity. That kind of damage can shake the foundation of your faith.

But there is a word that changes everything.

The word is but.

There is hope on the other side.

There is strength on the other side.

There is recovery on the other side.

As long as you have breath, there is a but in your story.

From this moment forward, reassess your source. Anchor your heart in God again. When your connection to Him is unmovable, no deception from yourself, others, or faulty doctrine will be able to overtake you.