If It’s Not Of God, It Is Sin

 

You know, it sounds simple at first, “If it’s not of God, it is sin.” But the weight of that hits deeper than we often realize. It’s not just some catchphrase, not just something that sounds spiritual to say. This is a truth that digs right into the roots of our lives. It challenges everything: what we’re living from, what we’re aiming for, and ultimately, who we’re trusting.

The Bible doesn’t give us a laundry list of “dos and don’ts” to follow. It tells a story, one that’s real, one that hits home. It’s a story of a holy, pure, and good God, and a people who continually drift away from Him. And that drift, even if it seems small, even if it’s barely noticeable? That’s sin. Not just when we make a big, dramatic choice to rebel. Even the tiniest shift, the smallest lean away from God, that’s sin too. Because it pulls us away from the very source of life.

When we think of sin, we usually think of the big things, murder, theft, adultery. But sin can be so much more subtle than that. It can be invisible to everyone around us. It can even show up in things that, on the surface, look good.

Take someone who volunteers all the time. They’re constantly helping, serving, giving of themselves. You’d think that’s just wonderful, right? But here’s the thing, if they’re doing all of that to feel good about themselves, to get recognition, or even just because they feel like they should, but they’re not doing it with God, from God, and for God, then that can become sin too.

It’s a hard pill to swallow, but it’s true. Romans 14:23 says, “Whatever is not from faith is sin.” That means it’s not just the action itself that matters. It’s where it comes from, the heart of it, the root. That’s what determines if it’s of God.

Let’s just pause there, because that changes everything. Faith isn’t just believing that God exists. Faith is trusting Him with everything. It’s including Him in everything. Faith means listening when we’d rather act. Waiting when we’d rather rush ahead. It means recognizing that we don’t have it all figured out, that we’re not as wise or strong as we think we are. And when we move ahead without that faith, when we act without asking Him first, we’ve already stepped out of the relationship He designed us to have with Him.

And once we’re out of that relationship, everything we do becomes disconnected. That’s what sin is, it’s separation. It’s being apart from Him. It’s not always obvious or wicked-looking, but it always starts with independence. It starts with a choice to go it alone. A moment when we say, “I’ve got this, God,” instead of, “What do You want me to do, Father?”

And you know what? This goes all the way back to the beginning. Eve didn’t eat the fruit because she hated God. No, it was just that for one moment, she thought her way might be better. That tiny step of separation, that decision made without God, that’s when sin entered the world.

James tells us, “To the one who knows the right thing to do and does not do it, to him it is sin.” That’s personal. It’s not just about the big, obvious sins we know are wrong. Sometimes sin is about what God has shown you personally. If He’s told you to speak, and you stay silent, that’s sin. If He’s told you to rest, but you push yourself harder, that’s sin. It’s not just about the action. It’s about obedience.

And then Jesus comes along and says, “Apart from Me, you can do nothing.” He doesn’t say, “You can’t do much.” He says, “You can do nothing.” That means even the most impressive things we do, giving, serving, teaching, mean nothing if they’re done apart from Him. It’s not that He doesn’t see the effort. It’s that He’s calling us to stay connected to Him. Like a branch that can only bear fruit if it’s attached to the vine. And anything that doesn’t come from that connection, no matter how spiritual it looks, is fruitless. Empty. And honestly, that’s what sin is at its core: emptiness pretending to be full.

So when we say, “If it’s not of God, it is sin,” it’s not because God’s being harsh. It’s because He’s holy. He is the only source of what is pure, what is good, and what is true. And anything done outside of Him, no matter how good it seems, is built on the wrong foundation.

But here’s the good news. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about our position. Are we walking beside Him? Listening for His voice? Or are we out there on our own, assuming we know best?

When we stay near Him, when we lean into Him, when we listen for His voice, that’s when we walk in faith. And faith leads to obedience. Not because we’re afraid, but because we love Him. And when we walk in that love, our lives start to look more like His, not because we’re trying harder, but because we’re connected to the right source.

So yes, anything that’s not of God is sin. Not because He’s some cosmic judge, but because He’s holy. He’s the only one who knows what’s right. He’s the only one who knows what’s pure. And when we do things without Him, even if they look good, they’re built on the wrong foundation.

But we don’t have to fear that. We don’t have to try to figure it all out on our own. We just need to stay close. We just need to listen. And when we do that, we’ll be living from Him, and not from ourselves. Because once we’ve experienced what it’s like to move with God, nothing else satisfies. Nothing else feels right. And nothing else is truly holy.

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There was a woman who was always busy. Always doing something. Always helping. Always planning. She felt like she was doing all the right things, church dinners, clothing drives, prayer meetings, mentoring teens. She gave so much of herself. And for a while, it felt right. People would look at her and think, "Now there’s a woman of God.” And for a long time, she thought that too. But slowly, something inside of her started to feel... dry.

At first, she couldn’t put her finger on it. There was just a heaviness. A tiredness that went deeper than her bones. She’d pray, but it felt like her words were falling flat. Her prayers, once full of life, now felt empty. Then came the irritation, the fatigue, the quiet bitterness when someone would ask her to do just one more thing. She started snapping at her husband, skipping meals, skipping rest. And then one day, in a quiet moment, one of the few she allowed herself, she realized she didn’t feel close to God anymore.

She sat with her Bible in her lap and asked the question that had been growing in her heart for so long: “Have I been doing all of this for You, God? Or have I just been doing it because it feels good to be needed?”

And the answer didn’t come with shame or anger. It came with gentle correction, like a whisper in her spirit: “You didn’t ask Me. You didn’t bring Me into it. You ran ahead with your plans, and I let you. But I never sent you there.”

She cried, not because she was ashamed, but because it felt like a weight had been lifted. She understood now. She hadn’t been sinning in some big, obvious way. She hadn’t outright turned her back on God. But she had been moving without Him. She had been doing things in her own strength, without seeking Him first. And because of that, everything that had looked holy had turned heavy.

She had been choosing good things, but they hadn’t been God’s things. And that little difference, she realized, was everything.

From that moment on, things started to shift, not in her schedule, not right away, but in her heart, in her posture. She began each day with one simple prayer: “What do You want, Lord?” And sometimes He said, “Yes, go.” Other times, He said, “Wait.” And sometimes He’d say, “Let someone else do it this time.” And slowly, she learned to listen. She stopped thinking that she knew best. She stopped acting out of guilt or pressure. She stopped measuring her holiness by how busy she was. She stopped doing good things without God.

And bit by bit, the emptiness left. Her joy returned. Her soul started breathing again. Not because she was doing more, but because she was doing less. Less, but with Him.

That’s the kind of sin we don’t talk about enough. It’s not rebellion. It’s not defiance. It’s the quiet kind of separation. The kind where we forget to ask Him, where we lean on ourselves, where we do things in our own strength instead of His. We forget to include Him. We forget to invite Him in.

That’s why the verse, “Whatever is not from faith is sin” hits so hard. It’s not about punishment. It’s about being disconnected. And anything disconnected from God, no matter how good it looks on the outside, will always end up dry on the inside.

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Abba...

You see everything, things we haven’t even said out loud. You know those quiet places inside us where we decide things before we even stop to think. You know when we hold back. When we feel You nudging us, but we brush it aside and go our own way. Forgive us for that. Not just for the things we know are wrong, but for that deep-down habit of trying to do life without You. For making plans and walking into them without even asking what You think. For assuming we’ve got it handled, when really, we don’t.

You’ve told us that anything not from faith is sin. And that’s hard to hear, but it’s true. If we’re doing something without trusting You, if it didn’t come from Your Spirit, if You didn’t breathe life into it, then it’s not from You. And we don’t want to live like that. But You haven’t left us to figure this out alone. You’ve invited us into something better, closer. A way of living where we lean on You for everything. And that’s what we want. I want that.

Help us recognize Your voice more quickly. Soften us so we stop making You shout to get our attention. Teach us to pause, to ask, to wait. Even in the little things. Because they matter. Make us a people who obey, not because we’re afraid You’ll be mad, but because we love You and we trust You. Help us live like we believe You really do know best. Because You do. Your ways are so much higher than ours. You see the whole picture. You always know what’s good and right and full of peace.

I don’t want to be full of my own ideas and opinions. Empty me out, Lord. Fill me with whatever You want. If it’s not from You, I don’t want it.

Keep us close. And when we wander, and we will, bring us back fast. Gently. Fully.

I love You. I trust You. I want to live with You, not just for You.

In the name of Yeshua, Amen.