I Am The Bible Teacher Who Stopped Reading Her Bible… Part 1

Today was the first time I sat with God in over a week.
That sentence alone makes my chest tighten. I didn’t read my Bible for seven days. My prayers, if you can even call them that, were hollow half-sentences tossed toward heaven between meetings and ministry tasks. And I didn’t tell anyone. Not out of shame, but because I didn’t want to be held accountable. I knew I was wrong. I just didn’t want to stop being wrong yet.

Here’s the irony: I’m a Bible teacher. I spend nearly every day telling women to go to the Word. Be fully present with your God. Don’t let your heart drift. And yet, there I was adrift. Teaching from a place of empty echo rather than overflow.

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Key Takeaways

➤ Neglect is slow, not sudden.

➤ Even leaders drift.

➤ The Word anchors the soul.

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It’s a strange thing to be seen as “the captain.” When the storms rise, women call me. When the questions come, they text. When life gets chaotic, we meet for coffee, and I steady their sails. I’ve spent decades learning how to do that; how to lead well, answer Bible questions, love deeply, and offer the right answers. But here’s what most forget while comparing their walk with mine or setting me on a pedestal too tall for my pride:

We’re in the same boat. The same storm-tossed vessel, surrounded by waves, dependent on the same mercy, and in desperate need of the same Savior.

Even leaders drift. Even the ones with passion, theology, and heart. Because no matter how strong your grip on the wheel, if your anchor isn’t set, you’ll wake up surprised by how far you’ve floated.

The Drift + How It Started

I want to tell you how this started, not to glorify the sin of neglecting my Savior, but so you can avoid it.

Day 1: My schedule was packed. The morning slipped away because I scrolled far too long on the toilet (don’t judge). I kept telling myself, “I’ll catch up tomorrow.”
Spoiler alert: tomorrow looked exactly the same.

Why was I scrolling so much? To numb my mind. To drown out the noise with more noise. What a terribly intrusive and overstimulated world we live in. Where silence feels like punishment and stillness feels like failure.

Day 3: The routine felt distant. Honestly, it wasn’t even a routine anymore. I told myself I’d squeeze it in somewhere, but I didn’t. Guilt crept in. Not the false kind that demands perfection, but the real kind that whispers, “You’ve drifted.”

Day 4: I started justifying. “I read for school, so I got something.”

Day 5: “I read a passage with that girl at coffee, so that counts.”

By Day 6 and 7, I didn’t even feel guilty anymore. But I did feel other things; strange, heavy things. I was overwhelmed. Tired. Peopled out. If one more person texted, called, or needed something, I might’ve screamed.

I started ignoring calls. I cringed at the thought of going to church, not because I didn’t love God’s people, but because I didn’t have the bandwidth to perform faithfulness.

Then, during worship practice, it happened. A snippy comment, sharp and unnecessary. Let’s not lie, it wasn’t just snippy. It was downright ugly.

That’s the thing about neglect: it doesn’t stay quiet for long. The heart always leaks what it’s full of, or what it’s empty of.

The Storm + What I Noticed

Remember the boat? Cue the waves.

It all came crashing the moment the communion tray reached me. I didn’t even think—I just passed it along and muttered, “I really can’t do that right now.” The words came out harsher than I meant, but they were true. I knew I wasn’t right with God. I hadn’t repented.

I always give others time to reflect, to search their hearts before we take communion together. I even asked if anyone had sin to confess. No one said a word. Then, without warning, I burst into tears. Because I had a lot to say.

I was a hypocrite. My attitude was out of hand. My pride was steering the ship, and I was relying on my own strength to minister to those made in the image and likeness of God—His masterpieces. Somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing people as precious and started seeing them as burdens. People Jesus saw as worth dying for had become people I just needed to get through.

The more I spoke, the more I realized the cold, dark reality:
Seven days without Jesus makes one weak.
And I was weak, desperate, exhausted, and drifting.

Spiritual neglect doesn’t happen overnight. It happens quietly, like a boat unmoored; slowly, silently, until the current carries you farther than you ever meant to go.

·       Emotionally, I was exhausted. Anxiety, irritability, and overthinking surfaced like crashing waves.

·       Spiritually, I was drained. My cup was empty, and everyone around me could feel the dryness of my words.

·       Relationally, I was detached—adrift from people, purpose, and peace.

Then it hit me: the absence of Scripture doesn’t create silence; it creates noise. And when the Word isn’t steering you, something else always will.

TL/DR

Even Bible teachers drift. After seven days without prayer or Scripture, I found myself spiritually hollow, teaching from echo instead of overflow. What began as a few missed mornings became a quiet rebellion of self-reliance. But the truth is simple: seven days without Jesus makes one weak. When I finally sat before Him again, conviction met compassion. Neglect doesn’t scream, it whispers. It’s the slow unmooring of the soul. But even in the drift, grace waits with an anchor strong enough to pull us home.

Define Your Terms

(Some might call this a glossary)

• Communion – A sacred practice where believers remember Christ’s sacrifice through bread and cup (1 Corinthians 11:23–26). It’s both remembrance and repentance.

• Drift – A slow spiritual wandering that happens when neglect replaces devotion. It’s not rebellion at first—it’s distraction.

• Anchor – A metaphor for spiritual stability and faith in Christ (Hebrews 6:19). It keeps the soul grounded when emotions and circumstances pull away.

• Repentance – Turning back toward God with humility, confession, and renewed obedience.

• Discipleship – The lifelong process of learning, imitating, and obeying Jesus, often modeled in relationships and daily rhythms.

• Neglect – The subtle sin of ignoring God’s presence and Word—not out of hatred, but habit.

• Grace – God’s unearned favor that not only forgives the drift but restores the drifter.

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