First Steps to God.

Sunday I did something I haven’t done in a whole year—I tuned in to church live. Not sitting in the pew, not surrounded by people, but right from my living room. And you know what? It still felt like coming home.

For months, I told myself I’d watch. Sometimes I meant to, sometimes I got distracted, and sometimes I let excuses pile higher than my laundry basket. But this morning, I pressed play. And the moment the worship started and the pastor began speaking, I realized how much my heart had been missing this.

The sermon cut straight through the noise of my week, speaking to me in ways I didn’t even know I needed. That’s the thing about God’s Word—it doesn’t matter if you’re sitting in a church pew or sitting on your couch in your pajamas. When He wants to reach you, He will.

This morning’s sermon hit me hard—it was all about how the enemy works by twisting the truth. The pastor spoke on Leviathan, that ancient serpent from Scripture, described as a creature of distortion and deception. And let me tell you, it’s not just some old Bible story—it’s a picture of how the devil still works today.

Leviathan doesn’t show up in our lives with fire and horns. Instead, he slips in quietly, wrapping himself around words, conversations, and even thoughts. He takes what’s true and bends it just enough that we start questioning, doubting, or even believing lies. A little twist here, a little spin there—and suddenly what God clearly spoke can feel foggy or confusing.

The pastor also reminded us that pride is Leviathan’s playground. When we’re quick to defend ourselves, prove our point, or “win” an argument, we give him room to twist things further. But humility shuts the door. Sometimes the strongest thing we can do isn’t clapping back, but pausing. Taking a breath. Praying before responding.

That one really hit home for me—because I’ve been guilty of doing the opposite. I’m quick to respond, quick to defend myself, and quick to say something without always stopping to think first. And more often than not, I regret it later. This sermon reminded me that my words hold power, and if I don’t slow down, I can become part of the twisting instead of part of the truth. I don’t want to be someone who adds noise when God is asking me to be still. I want my words to build, not break. And sometimes that means saying nothing at all—choosing silence over reaction, prayer over pride, and peace over proving a point. At the end of the day, I’m learning that the real strength isn’t found in defending myself—it’s found in trusting God to defend me. And that’s the kind of freedom I want to walk in.

Sometimes, when I’m sitting in a sermon and the words hit so close to my heart, I know it’s not just a message—it’s God speaking directly to me. It’s His way of reminding me that He sees me, He knows the battles I’ve faced, and He wants me to keep trusting Him. Those moments feel like little love notes from Heaven, nudging me to lean deeper into His presence and let Him guide me step by step. For me, this is just the beginning—the start of truly living a God-led life, and I’m excited to see where He takes me on this journey.