Set Apart: Grace Ahead of Activity

Set Apart: A Call to Consecration

Introduction: Consecration in a Time of Crisis and Calling

I love the film A League of Their Own, which tells the true story of the Women’s Professional Baseball League during World War II. While the men were away at war, the country was searching for some sense of normalcy—and baseball became part of that search.

One of the central characters is Jimmy Dugan, played by Tom Hanks—a once-gifted ballplayer whose life has settled into half-hearted effort and quiet despair. Alcohol has become his constant companion, not because he’s rebellious, but because he’s numb.

There’s a scene late at night on the team bus. Dugan pulls out his flask, takes a drink—and one of the players, Dottie Hinson, played by Gina Davis, gently takes it from him. She hands him a Coca-Cola instead. Confused, he drinks it—and you hear this deep, surprised “Ahhh.”

In that moment, you realize something with him: he didn’t know what he was really thirsty for. Alcohol had been a substitute—but not a solution.

There is a particular kind of thirst that doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t feel like desperation. It doesn’t feel like crisis.

It feels like tiredness. Distraction. A low-grade restlessness you learn to live with.

You wake up. You do what needs to be done. You carry what needs to be carried.

You’re functioning—but not fully alive. Faith is present, but muted. God is believed in—but not deeply wanted.

And the danger of this kind of thirst is that it convinces us we’re fine.

But Scripture tells us something hopeful: long before we go looking for God, God has already gone looking for us. Before we can name our hunger, grace is already at work— stirring desire, unsettling satisfaction, interrupting our numbness.

And when God awakens thirst, He does not rush us forward. He prepares us to receive what He intends to give.

In the Gospels, Jesus meets people at wells—not because they know they’re thirsty, but because He does. He doesn’t begin with commands. He begins with an invitation: “If you knew the gift of God…”

Church, we are living in a moment of deep spiritual tension.

Over the last generation, one of the fastest-growing religious categories in the United States has been what researchers call the “nones”—those who claim no formal religious affiliation. Roughly one in five Americans now says they are religiously unaffiliated.

Many people today are not hostile to God. They are tired. Suspicious. Spiritually curious, but institutionally cautious.

They say things like, “I’m spiritual, but not religious.” Or, “I believe in something—but I don’t know what to trust anymore.”

This does not mean people have stopped longing for God. It means many have stopped trusting institutions to lead them there. And we should be honest—sometimes the Church has contributed to that confusion. When our words and our lives don’t align, authority erodes. When power is pursued without holiness, credibility is lost.

We live in a world that feels disordered, anxious, and fragmented—caught between a hunger for transcendence and uncertainty about where authority truly lies. Scripture is not surprised by this. When rightful authority is displaced, creation groans, truth is contested, power is misused, and identity becomes unmoored.

The world’s deepest problem is not a lack of power. It is power detached from holiness.

And that matters—because it helps us understand why God never simply unleashes more power without preparation.

Which leads us to the harder question.

Not about the world.

But about the Church.

I. What Is the State of the Church?

Before Israel ever crossed the Jordan, God required them to stop and look honestly at themselves. Consecration always begins with truth—not condemnation, but discernment.

So we ask together: What is the state of the Church today?

Active, But Not Deep

The Church is often busy, engaged, and well-intentioned—yet spiritually thin. We attend studies, conferences, podcasts, small groups—but still feel thin. We know about God, but struggle to rest in God.

And if we’re honest, we often prefer solutions over surrender. Techniques over transformation.

Paul warns of a people who are “always learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth” (2 Timothy 3:7).

Paul doesn’t say they aren’t learning. He says they are always learning— but never arriving at truth that actually changes them.

We have activity without attentiveness to God. When the gospel is reduced to coping mechanisms, it soothes wounds—but it loses the power to form saints.

Gifted, But Not Governed

The Church is rich in gifts, creativity, and energy—yet often poor in discernment. We love initiative. We celebrate passion. But Scripture never celebrates unsubmitted zeal. The Spirit gives gifts—but Christ orders them.

Scripture reminds us: “Let all things be done for building up” (1 Corinthians 14:26).

The problem is not passion. It is mission without submission. Governance is not control. It is love that refuses chaos.

When gifts are detached from Christ’s lordship, the Church becomes busy—but not faithful.

Present in Culture, But Not Distinct From It

The Church is visible in society, yet increasingly indistinguishable from it. If someone watched our lives for a month— how would they know we belong to God?

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed” (Romans 12:2).

Conformity

Transformation

Renewal of the mind

Scripture never calls God’s people to withdraw—but it always calls them to holiness. When relevance replaces consecration, identity erodes. We forget that we are not our own—we belong to God.

A Shared Diagnosis

In many places, then, the Church:

Mirrors the world’s anxieties rather than resting in God’s peace

Pursues influence without formation

Seeks outcomes without surrender

These are not failures of effort—but failures of alignment.

The Church is not lazy. She is often exhausted.

Not graceless—but resistant to reordering grace. Not faithless—but insufficiently consecrated.

II. Theological Diagnosis

Here is the heart of the matter:

The Church’s deepest crisis is not the absence of grace, but resistance to consecration.

Grace is not missing. God has not withdrawn. What is missing is our willingness to be reordered by what He has already given.

Grace has been given—lavishly and freely in Jesus Christ. But grace that is not received as a call to holiness becomes permission without transformation.

Paul asks the question plainly: “Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means!” (Romans 6:1–2).

This is not condemnation. It is diagnosis.

Not rejection, but misalignment.

And yet, this is precisely where the good news begins.

Consecration sounds frightening only if grace is absent. But grace is the very thing that makes consecration possible.

III. The Gospel Invitation: God Prepares a People

Because the God who diagnoses also heals. The God who exposes misalignment does not abandon His people—He invites them to be made ready again.

Standing on the edge of promise, God did not say to Israel, “Try harder.” He did not say, “Do better.”

Now, in Joshua the Israelites receive a command from God”

He said:

“Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the Lord will do wonders among you.” —Joshua 3:5

The waters have not parted yet. The priests are still standing on dry ground. The promise is visible—but unrealized.

Consecration is not the price of God’s presence. It is the posture that receives it. It is a will and a desires to seek the LORD.

And it is right here— before success, before clarity, before results— that God calls His people to consecration. God entrusts His power to those who desire His presence more than His results.

IV. What God Offers

We often come to God asking for help. For relief. For answers.

And God says, “I will give you something better. I will give you Myself.”

He offers Himself.

To Abram, God says: “I am your very great reward” (Genesis 15:1).

God does not come to adjust our lives. He comes to claim them.

And biblically, God’s presence is never neutral.

Where God dwells:

priorities are reordered

loyalties are clarified

lives are claimed

“You are not your own… you were bought with a price” (1 Corinthians 6:19–20).

God does not come to adjust our lives. He comes to claim them.

What if consecration is not God taking something from you— but God relieving you of what you were never meant to carry?

V. A Word on Grace

Before we speak of consecration, discipline, or response, we must hear this clearly:

Across the world, the Church is not uniformly growing—but it is unmistakably stirring.

In places long assumed to be post-Christian, something quiet yet significant is happening. In the United Kingdom, Bible sales have surged, and younger adults are returning to church in measurable numbers. In France, adult baptisms at Easter have risen sharply, many among those with no inherited Christian identity.

In the United States, moments of sustained prayer and repentance—like the Asbury outpouring—have reminded us that revival often begins not with programs, but with humility before God.

And in parts of the world where following Christ carries real cost—places like Iran—believers testify to underground growth marked not by comfort, but by courage.

These are not headlines of dominance. They are signs of hunger. Not a return to cultural Christianity—but a longing for meaning, holiness, and truth.

The witness of this moment suggests this: When the world grows weary of shallow answers, God awakens a people willing to take Him seriously.

This call to consecration is not a demand issued to the worthy.

It is an invitation awakened by grace.

God’s offer comes before readiness. Before obedience. Before worthiness.

Grace initiates. Grace invites. Grace enables response.

Consecration is not moral perfection. It is yielded belonging.

It is saying: “We are Yours—before we are useful.”

Conclusion: The Invitation to the Journey

This series is not about spiritual intensity for its own sake.

It is about grace-enabled readiness for the presence, power, and purposes of God.

Over the coming weeks, we will explore what consecration means, how it forms us, and how God entrusts His power to a yielded people.

This week, we are not fixing. Not striving.

By God’s grace, we are becoming a people who desire God— before success, before clarity, before results.

We are simply saying yes.

But today, the question is simple:

Will we pause at the edge of promise? Will we take God seriously enough to prepare for His presence?

Because when a people consecrate themselves—not to earn God’s power, but to belong wholly to Him—Scripture promises this:

The Lord will do wonders among them.