The Counterfeit Idols We Make
by Donavon L Riley

Christ draws us out of the shallow wells we dig for ourselves—those counterfeits of faith that promise comfort but never bring us close to Him. The world would have us spin our faith around our own wants and needs, like a child grabbing at shiny things.

But Jesus does not offer Himself as some balm for the self; He calls us to something braver. His presence does not cater to our smaller desires but opens us to desire Him above all else. He does not soften the edges of our suffering but enters it with us, reshaping it into something that reveals Him—not merely as an escape from pain but as the One who stands in its heart with us, filling the emptiness with His own life.

God comes to us not on our timetable, not to sweep our troubles away, but to walk with us through them. The victory He gives is not found in our comfort but in knowing Him even in suffering. He does not indulge our wish to sidestep the cross; instead, He asks us to follow Him into it, showing us that true life, true wisdom, grows from that soil. This path—where our illusions fall away, where He becomes everything—is no self-help plan, no way to avoid hardship. It’s a descent into the depths of our need for Him, a depth that burns away all false comforts until we see Christ alone.

In the silence of facing our sins, we meet God not as a distant ideal but as the One crucified by our own hands. He lets Himself be wounded by us, for no other reason than love. And in that love, He turns us away from the counterfeit idols we make, from our self-centered wants, and calls us back to the simplicity of Himself.

Christ does not promise us an easy victory but invites us into the hard, refining work of turning back to Him. This is not a call to remain in spiritual infancy but to rise up, to hold our sins before us, as St. Anthony the Great taught, and to look through them to the God who forgives, the God who loves us enough to carry us back to Himself.