Areliablefaith Reflection
A few days ago, on a beach in Marina di Ragusa, Sicily, I found myself staring at a McDonald’s. Not because I wanted a hamburger, but because of where it was sitting — right on the water, in about as prime a location as you could ask for, surrounded by genuine, family-run trattorias that had clearly been there for generations. It struck me as strange. How does an American fast-food chain end up on a stretch of coastline like this? And more than that — would it even survive next to businesses built on real family history and craft?
That question sat with me for a couple of days, and it pulled up a memory from a book I read a long time ago: Tom Peters’ In Search of Excellence: Lessons from America’s Best-Run Companies. McDonald’s was one of the companies Peters studied, and one line from it has stuck with me for years. He observed that McDonald’s never set out to make the single best-tasting hamburger in the world. What they pursued instead was consistency — a hamburger that tasted the same whether you bought it in the U.S., in Canada, in Japan, or, apparently, on a beach in Sicily.
Lisa and I ended up going back to that same McDonald’s — not for the burgers, but for a cappuccino and, of all things, a croissant, which is not exactly a McDonald’s staple back home. And as I drank that cappuccino, I realized it tasted exactly like the one I’d had in Michigan a few months earlier, and the one I’d had in South Carolina before that. Different continent, different culture, same cup. That’s not an accident. That’s the entire business model.
It got me thinking about my own walk with God.
God isn’t asking me to be the spiritual equivalent of the “best-tasting hamburger” — spectacular, polished, impressive from day one. What He seems to be after isn’t perfection out of the gate. It’s surrender, and it’s consistency — showing up again and again, letting Him shape the heart a little more each time.
“Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 1:6
“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.” — Philippians 3:12
But here’s where I have to be honest with myself, because I’ve recently caught myself twisting that very idea. I’ve been using YouVersion to read the Bible daily, and somewhere along the way, “consistency” quietly turned into “streak.” I started feeling real stress about keeping a number going, rather than about actually meeting God in the text. The goal was never a badge or a counter. The goal was to see Him in His Word and let it inform my heart. Somewhere along the way, the tracking became the target.
It’s not a new problem. It’s the same thing Jesus called out in Matthew 23 — people who were relentlessly consistent in the letter of practice while neglecting “the weightier matters.” Or Isaiah 29:13 — a people whose lips were near God while their hearts stayed far away. Discipline is not the same thing as devotion. It’s possible to be perfectly consistent and still miss the point entirely.
“These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.” — Isaiah 29:13
The consistency worth pursuing isn’t the visible, countable kind — the streak, the box checked, the record kept. It’s the invisible kind: returning to Him, again and again, not because a number depends on it, but because that’s where life actually is.
A Question to Sit With
Where in your walk with God has faithfulness quietly turned into a performance metric — and what would it look like this week to return to the relationship instead of the record?
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