The Checklist Version of Spiritual Maturity
For a long time, I thought spiritual maturity was easy to explain.
- Read your Bible every day.
- Have a quiet time.
- Show up to youth group.
But over the years, I’ve had to admit something—to myself and to the students I lead—I was wrong.
Those things aren’t spiritual maturity. They’re often the fruit of it.
I think we default to checklists because the real work of the Holy Spirit is hard to describe. The Spirit doesn’t follow a formula. Growth doesn’t look the same from one student to the next. And honestly, that can feel uncomfortable for us as leaders. But that’s also the beauty of it. God is personal, and He forms each student in deeply personal ways.
When we unintentionally teach students that spiritual maturity equals certain behaviors, we can end up producing something we never intended: guilt. I’ve watched students who genuinely love Jesus feel like they’re failing because they can’t keep up with the spiritual expectations we’ve laid out for them.
That’s not what we want.
What Spiritual Maturity in Students Really Looks Like
What I’ve learned—sometimes the hard way—is that our role isn’t to manage spiritual outcomes, but to walk with students as they learn to relate to Christ.
- I want students to know they can pray throughout the day, right in the middle of real life.
- I want them to experience grace as a place of safety, where confession leads to healing, not shame.
- I want to celebrate when they discover God speaking to them through Scripture on their own.
- I want to challenge them to forgive first, even when it costs them something.
Most of all, I want to be willing to step into the mess with them—to sit in the questions, the doubts, the mistakes—and help them take the next step toward looking more like Jesus.
That’s spiritual maturity. It’s slower than a checklist. It’s harder to measure. And it’s far more beautiful.
And if you’re already leading this way, I just want to say this: thank you. You’re doing holy work, even when it feels unseen. Keep going.
