This one left scorch marks on my soul in the best possible way.
You’re right, Stephen. The Test doesn’t knock first. It shows up mid-scroll, mid-shower, mid-boredom, and whispers, “Just this once…” And if we haven’t trained our moral muscles daily—if we haven’t practiced catching ourselves in the tiny betrayals—we won’t just fail the Test, we’ll explain it away like cowards in a confessional built by denial.
But the part that hit me deepest? Grace. The kind that doesn’t come cheap or wear perfume. The kind that demands you kneel before your own wreckage, hold eye contact with your shame, and still choose to rise—not in denial, but in devotion to becoming better.
This isn’t self-help. It’s sacred training. Spiritual bootcamp. A reminder that ethics are forged in the mundane, not just the dramatic.
Thank you for writing something that demands I don’t just read it, but live it.
Couldn't find the relevant post to comment this on, but I heard an exevangelical say once that in wrestling with faith and atheism he doesn't call himself "a Christian" as a singular noun, but he does try to "be Christian" using the word as an adjective. I like that
Yes. And even though I don’t believe, I think this particular post is an attempt to be Christian — and be Stoic, for what’s it worth. This post was inspired by both Stoicism and Christianity.
This piece distills a lot of what I've been nudging people towards over the past few years, since we've know each other to be honest. Slow, methodic, intentional moral strengthening is a beautiful practice.
I think that living this way gives life a sort of inherent proto-meaning, an answer to the question "what am I here to do" that doesn't involve complex overarching purpose or finding a vocation.
Your task is simply to pass the test as often as you can, as well as you can, for as long as you can, knowing that it is impossible and eventually coming to realise that the impossibility doesn't matter. Isn't relevant.
Sounds like the pattern of consistently failing the same test is the real kicker. I’ve had to question in myself what’s the difference between a reason and excuse for bad behavior. The crux seems to be realizing the pattern and cutting it short, before the pattern plays out
If all the times behind me save me from all the future instances, that would be my preference if I got a vote. Even if I did, it would feel like voting against infinity.
My parents told me to do my best. I find that remains my guidepost. I am responsible for public health, safety, and welfare--and so my work must be the best for those who trust me. I do make mistakes but I do not lie or make excuses. Dad instructed in the nature of lies: sins of commission, omission, and the worst--lying to yourself. Trust is earned and is my reward for my service.
It might not be your fault that you failed the test but it's your responsibility. I love that part. Things happen to us that aren't our fault or out of our control, the only thing we get to control is how we respond.
Once again, I feel like you've presented an argument with a choice of either keep going or do better...and make me want to do better.
❤️❤️❤️
This one left scorch marks on my soul in the best possible way.
You’re right, Stephen. The Test doesn’t knock first. It shows up mid-scroll, mid-shower, mid-boredom, and whispers, “Just this once…” And if we haven’t trained our moral muscles daily—if we haven’t practiced catching ourselves in the tiny betrayals—we won’t just fail the Test, we’ll explain it away like cowards in a confessional built by denial.
But the part that hit me deepest? Grace. The kind that doesn’t come cheap or wear perfume. The kind that demands you kneel before your own wreckage, hold eye contact with your shame, and still choose to rise—not in denial, but in devotion to becoming better.
This isn’t self-help. It’s sacred training. Spiritual bootcamp. A reminder that ethics are forged in the mundane, not just the dramatic.
Thank you for writing something that demands I don’t just read it, but live it.
It’s been a harrowing lesson for me to learn, over and over again. I’m glad the piece hit home.
Don’t have time to read it right now, but I’m pre-liking it because I trust you.
I’m honored by your trust!
Couldn't find the relevant post to comment this on, but I heard an exevangelical say once that in wrestling with faith and atheism he doesn't call himself "a Christian" as a singular noun, but he does try to "be Christian" using the word as an adjective. I like that
Yes. And even though I don’t believe, I think this particular post is an attempt to be Christian — and be Stoic, for what’s it worth. This post was inspired by both Stoicism and Christianity.
This piece distills a lot of what I've been nudging people towards over the past few years, since we've know each other to be honest. Slow, methodic, intentional moral strengthening is a beautiful practice.
Yes it is. And I keep thinking that we don’t have much focus on “moral strengthening” right now, and what that looks like.
I think that living this way gives life a sort of inherent proto-meaning, an answer to the question "what am I here to do" that doesn't involve complex overarching purpose or finding a vocation.
Your task is simply to pass the test as often as you can, as well as you can, for as long as you can, knowing that it is impossible and eventually coming to realise that the impossibility doesn't matter. Isn't relevant.
Exactly. Very well said. That’s a beautiful framing
This post is both true and incredibly terrifying.
I almost wish I hadn’t read it, because now when I fail the Test, I’ll only have myself to blame.
I understand. It’s terrifying for me, too.
Sounds like the pattern of consistently failing the same test is the real kicker. I’ve had to question in myself what’s the difference between a reason and excuse for bad behavior. The crux seems to be realizing the pattern and cutting it short, before the pattern plays out
Absolutely
If all the times behind me save me from all the future instances, that would be my preference if I got a vote. Even if I did, it would feel like voting against infinity.
Agreed. Thanks for reading ❤️
A timely post to read in this season of life. Thanks Stephen ❤️
Thank you for reading, friend ❤️
My parents told me to do my best. I find that remains my guidepost. I am responsible for public health, safety, and welfare--and so my work must be the best for those who trust me. I do make mistakes but I do not lie or make excuses. Dad instructed in the nature of lies: sins of commission, omission, and the worst--lying to yourself. Trust is earned and is my reward for my service.
Well said <3
Thanks; Happy Fourth :D
It might not be your fault that you failed the test but it's your responsibility. I love that part. Things happen to us that aren't our fault or out of our control, the only thing we get to control is how we respond.