There’s an old phrase that’s as true today as it’s ever been: garbage in, garbage out. Programmers use it to describe bad data producing bad results, but the principle reaches far beyond computers. It’s a spiritual reality. What we choose to consume—our habits, entertainment, media, and conversations—has a direct impact on the condition of our hearts. Our inputs shape our outputs. And if we’re not careful, the things we allow into our minds can quietly pull us away from the life we want to live with Christ.

I experienced this firsthand in ways both humorous and sobering. When Stranger Things first released, my wife was out of town, and I ended up binge-watching the entire first season in about a day and a half… and then re-watching it when she came home. My imagination was saturated with the show—every flicker of light felt suspicious. Another time, after watching a movie full of street racing and fast cars, I found myself gripping the steering wheel like I was on a mission to save the world. Entertainment isn’t neutral. It forms our thoughts, our moods, and our instincts far more than we realize. These inputs have a shaping power that doesn’t stay on the screen.

But shaping doesn’t only happen in dramatic moments—it also happens in quiet seasons of drift. Shortly after getting married, my wife and I moved to a new town and struggled to find a church home. Without meaning to, we filled our Sundays with everything except spiritual community. We weren’t rebelling or rejecting faith—we were drifting. And drift eventually leaves you spiritually empty. It wasn’t until we rediscovered a church family—and the encouragement and relationships that came with it—that my heart was recaptured for intentional pursuit of Christ. That season taught me that spiritual dryness often begins with unintentional inputs.

The good news is that abiding in Christ doesn’t require a dramatic overhaul. It starts with small, intentional shifts. A few years ago, I began a simple morning rhythm of prayer and Scripture reading. At first, it felt mechanical… but I kept going. Over time, those quiet minutes became the anchor of my day. That time shapes my thoughts before the world can. It feeds my soul before distractions compete for my attention. And it reminds me that spiritual formation doesn’t happen by accident—it happens by choice.

This week, I want to invite you to try one simple practice: replace one daily input with something that stirs your affections for Christ. Swap a few minutes of scrolling for Scripture. Choose worship instead of noise. Trade a TV episode for a prayer walk. You don’t need to be perfect—just intentional. Because what goes in will eventually come out. And when we fill our hearts with the things of Christ, we become more like Him through the quiet, steady work of grace.