When Life Pulls Us Away from God

If you missed the last couple of weeks, we’re in the middle of an A–Z Bible character series. We started with A is for Abigail, where we talked about wisdom and courage in chaos, and then last week we moved to C is for Caleb, a story about carrying faith through fear, delay, and the long wilderness seasons that test your heart. If you want to catch up, those are the perfect place to start, because this week’s letter is a very different kind of story.

And I’ll be honest, D was a hard pick. There are a lot of great “D” names in the Bible that feel bold and heroic, the kinds of stories that make us all want to cheer! But I wanted to choose someone less talked about, because sometimes the most useful stories aren’t the heroic ones. Sometimes the most useful stories are the ones that feel uncomfortably familiar.

That brings us to Demas.

Most of us don’t wake up one morning and decide, “Today I’m done with God.” It rarely happens like that. We usually don’t sever ties and walk away; we drift slowly, in a very human way.

It starts with disappointment that goes unresolved. A season of stress in which prayer feels very hard, sometimes impossible. A loss that doesn’t make any sense. A situation you begged God to change, and it didn’t change in the way you hoped.

Somewhere in the middle of that, we begin to pull back. We stop reaching for God because it hurts to hope again. We stop opening our Bible because it feels easier to scroll, numb out, or stay busy than to sit with the ache.

Then the enemy does what he always does. He whispers that God must not care, that we’re on our own, that this is proof we can’t trust God. And before you know it, we’re not necessarily angry at God, but we’ve created some distance. We have quietly disconnected.

And if you’ve ever found yourself thinking, “How could You let this happen to me, God?” you’re not alone. That question is ancient. Humans have been asking this same question since the beginning. Sometimes when life breaks our hearts, we don’t run toward God for comfort; we run away from Him because we feel confused, ashamed, disappointed, or utterly exhausted.

The painful truth is this: God does not leave us. We leave Him. And Demas offers a snapshot of how that can happen and why it matters.

Demas isn’t given a long storyline in Scripture. We don’t get pages and pages about his childhood or personality. But what we do get is enough to teach a powerful lesson because Demas appears in the Bible in two very different moments, and the contrast is the point.

At first, Demas is listed as a fellow worker. He’s part of the ministry circle around Paul. He’s present, involved, and connected to the mission. His name shows up alongside faithful believers who supported the spread of the Gospel. That alone tells us something important: Demas wasn’t a stranger to God. He was close enough to be counted in the work.

But later, Paul writes something that feels heavy, even heartbreaking: Demas deserted him. Not because Demas stopped believing overnight, but because his love for “this world” grew stronger than his devotion to the calling.

That phrase can sound dramatic if we don’t break it down. It doesn’t necessarily mean Demas became wildly evil. It can mean what so many of us wrestle with: comfort pulling harder than conviction. Fear pulling harder than faith. The desire for ease pulling harder than obedience. The weight of sacrifice starting to feel like too much. The appeal of “normal life” starting to look safer than the narrow road.

Sometimes following God costs you something, and when it costs you something for long enough, you start wondering if it’s worth it. It’s apparent that Demas reached that point. He walked away from the hard and chose what felt easier.

And in that one sentence about Demas, Scripture gives us a mirror. Not to shame us, but to wake us up gently. Because drifting from God is a real thing, and it happens to believers more often than we like to admit.

This week isn’t about pointing fingers at Demas like he’s “the bad guy.” This is about noticing how human his story is and letting it lovingly question us.

Ask yourself gently, without shame:

One of the enemy’s favorite tricks is convincing you that distance is your only option. But Scripture repeatedly shows us that returning to God is always possible, always welcome, and always worthwhile.

If you feel like Demas in any way, here are a few real steps that don’t require perfection, just honesty.

1) Tell God the truth, not the polished-up version.
If you’re angry, say it. If you’re confused, admit it. If you’re disappointed, bring it into the light. God already knows what’s going on inside you. Prayer becomes powerful the moment it becomes real.

2) Stop waiting to “feel spiritual” again.
The return doesn’t start with emotion; it starts with a simple decision. You don’t have to feel close to God to take one step toward Him.

3) Replace one numbing habit with one reconnecting habit.
If your drift has been fueled by distraction, when you catch yourself scrolling or watching commercials on TV, zoned out, stop immediately and reconnect. Five minutes of Scripture. One worship song. A short prayer. Something simple, consistent, and honest to take its place.

4) Let someone safe know where you’re at.
Isolation makes drift worse. A trusted friend, pastor, mentor, or faith-filled community can help you find your footing again.

5) Remember who God is when life feels unkind.
Hard seasons don’t mean God is cruel. Confusing circumstances don’t mean God has abandoned you. His character is steady, even when life is not.

Here are a few reads that pair beautifully with this message of returning to God, rebuilding trust, and staying rooted through hardship:

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There’s a worship song I want to share with you this week called Bring Me Back by Timeless Hebrew Tunes — a powerful Messianic worship song about returning to God after drifting away. The lyrics express a deep longing to come back to the place where our soul finds peace, to be led home from the valleys of shadow and weariness, and to know we are never beyond God’s reach. With lines like If you’ve ever felt far from God or longed to be held close again, this song is a gentle invitation to come back to His arms.

Heavenly Father,
You see my heart more clearly than I do. You know where I’ve been tired, where I’ve been disappointed, where I’ve been hurt, and where I’ve been tempted to pull away from You. Forgive me for the moments I’ve blamed You instead of running to You. Forgive me for the ways I’ve tried to find comfort in the world when what I really needed was Your presence.

Teach me how to come back. Restore what has grown cold in me. Rekindle desire for Your Word. Quiet the noise that has crowded my spirit. Help me trust You again, even when I don’t understand what You allowed. Strengthen me to stay close, especially in hard seasons, and remind me that You are compassionate, patient, and always faithful.

Bring me back into intimacy with You. I don’t want to drift. I want to dwell.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

If you’ve been drifting, I want you to hear this clearly: you are not disqualified. You’re not too far. You’re not beyond repair. The fact that you’re even reading this is proof that God is still tugging on your heart, still inviting you back into closeness.

Demas’s story is a warning, yes, but it’s also a gift because it shows us what drift looks like before it becomes permanent. It invites us to notice the small separations before they become a deep distance. It reminds us that the world will always offer quick comfort, but it can’t offer lasting peace.

God can.

And coming back to God doesn’t have to be hard. It can be as simple as opening your hands and saying, “Lord, I’m here. Help me come home.”

Thank you for being here. See you next Sunday. God bless you!