The Governed Life is a call to end drift and recover spiritual order without losing spiritual fire. In an age engineered to exhaust attention and dilute conviction, we are choosing a covenantal strategy, a life ruled by the Word, led by the Holy Spirit, and strengthened by holy discipline. Over these four theses, we will move from wonder to order, from calendar talk to covenant reality, establishing clarity for the vision, a code that protects the culture of the house, a cadence that turns revelation into routine, and a scoreboard that measures fruit that remains. This is not religious performance; it is spiritual infrastructure, built so that the Presence of God is not merely visit us in passing, but makes us His habitation, and turns us into carriers of His glory. — Wendell Hutchins
There is a dangerous lull that follows Christmas.
The music fades. The candles bow low and spend their final flame. The last guest steps into the night, and the door closes with the soft finality of a season ending. The wrapping paper is gathered up and cast aside, like the husk of yesterday’s wonder, and almost overnight the world rushes back to its old liturgy of noise, hurry, and hollow distractions.
And that is precisely when the adversary gets bold.
Because the enemy does not fear our December sentiment, he fears our January obedience. He does not quake at our holiday tenderness; he trembles when the marvel of Bethlehem hardens into our rule of life; when holy wonder refuses to evaporate into nostalgia, when our wonder becomes discipline, and when discipline becomes our burning commission.
Christmas was never meant to be a mood, a passing warmth in the chest, a seasonal tenderness that dissipates with the tinsel and the pine. It was never designed to be a soft hymn we hum for a few weeks, then lay down again when life resumes its old tempo.
THE DAY AFTER GLORY
Luke records something understated, yet piercingly instructive.
The shepherds come to Bethlehem. They see the Christ. They witness the impossible made flesh. They stand, for a moment, at the intersection of heaven and earth.
Then Luke says something that feels almost too ordinary to belong in such a holy narrative.
They go back.
They return to their fields, to their routines, to their night watches, to the same terrain they stood on before the angels split the sky.
Yet they do not return the same men.
They return “glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen” — Luke 2:20.
This is the mystery of mature faith: it can carry glory back into the ordinary.
The test of Christmas is not what you feel in the sanctuary, it is what you carry into the field.
WONDER MUST BECOME ORDER
One of the great deceptions of our age is the notion that spirituality is measured solely by intensity, as though volume were virtue and emotion were evidence.
But the born-again witness insists on something deeper; on something far more profound.
Paul, the Apostle, wrote, “Let all things be done decently and in order” — 1 Cor. 14:40.
That is not the language of rote religion; it is the language of spiritual architecture. Order does not quench the Spirit. Order protects the Spirit. In fact, discipline is not a rival to devotion; it is devotion with backbone.
I submit to you today that many believers do not need a new revelation; they need a renewed relationship and a fresh anointing to obey what they already know.
Because what God reveals in moments, He expects us to steward in patterns.
THE WEEK AFTER CHRISTMAS REVEALS WHAT WAS REAL
The week after is where many drift, not because they hate God, but because the world is engineered to exhaust attention, and exhaustion is the soil in which temptation thrives.
The adversary loves the week after Christmas because he knows what happens when people lose rhythm.
They stop praying “for a few days.” They stop reading “until things slow down.” They stop attending church and gathering with their life group “until life settles.”
And then, suddenly, they wake up in mid-January, spiritually dry, mentally scattered, emotionally brittle, asking, “What happened to me?”
What happened is not mysterious. They lost cadence, and a life without cadence is always vulnerable to captivity.
A RULE OF LIFE FOR REMNANT FAMILIES
Let me say it plainly, you and I do not need to overhaul everything. We need to consecrate one thing and guard it like a flame, because what we protect becomes the hearth where God keeps His fire alive.
Choose one holy habit for the next 30 days, and make it immovable.
Here are a few that can change a household:
1. The Table Covenant
Three nights a week, sit down together. No phones. No rush. A prayer. A Scripture. A check in. A blessing.
2. The Morning Altar
Before the world touches your mind, let the Word saturate your spirit. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. But daily.
3. The Evening Covering
Before sleep, pray over your home. Not a performance, a covering. Name your children. Name your marriage. Name your calling.
4. The Sabbath Boundary
If you never stop, your soul becomes easy prey. Make one day different. Worship. Rest. Presence. Joy. Our nervous systems are healed in holiness.
By the way, do not view these rules for an overcoming life as religious chores; they are spiritual infrastructure. Scripture never treats “structure” as optional where God intends to dwell. The Lord told Moses, “Make a sanctuary for Me, and I will dwell among them,” and then He immediately insisted that everything be made “according to the pattern” shown in the mountain (Exodus 25:8–9).
And the book of Hebrews echoes the same principle, that the tabernacle was a “copy and shadow,” a patterned architecture meant to host God’s Presence (Hebrews 8:5).
In other words, divine habitation is not sustained by inspiration alone; it is sustained by consecrated order, by a life built to carry glory without collapsing under it.
The Rabbinic tradition speaks with striking agreement. The sages teach, “Make a fence around the Torah,” not because God is burdened by human weakness, but because holy things must be protected by wise boundaries (Pirkei Avot 1:1).
And in the Midrash, the commentary reflections on “I will dwell among them,” the emphasis is not merely a building (external structure) but a dwelling formed within a people, carried wherever they go (Shemot Rabbah 33:1). In other words, God’s Presence is a way for the reality of His revelation to remain among the people, not as a memory, but as an abiding nearness.
So yes, our infrastructure determines what a house can hold, because God’s Presence is not hosted by good intentions, but by a prepared, consecrated space. As the Psalmist warns, “Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain” (Psalm 127:1).
And this is why the disciplines matter. They do not replace the Holy Spirit; they make room for Him. They are not dead works; they are living beams and sacred boundaries, the difference between a house that merely visits holy moments and a tabernacle that can actually carry them.
THE COMMISSION CANNOT BE SEASONAL
Jesus did not come to Bethlehem so we could have a sentimental holiday. He came because heaven declared war on sin, death, and darkness. He came to claim a people.
He came to commission witnesses.
“All authority is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye therefore…” (Matthew 28:18–19).
Notice the order. Authority first, then assignment.
Because Jesus has all authority, no cultural darkness has the right to intimidate His Church. No demonic pressure has permission to silence your family. No moral confusion has the final say over your children.
However, this holy commission will not be carried by those who live casually. It can only be carried by those who are determined to live consecrated.
MY FINAL THOUGHTS AND CHALLENGE TO YOU
Friend, the lights may come down, but the war does not. The question is not whether the world will get darker. The question is whether your house will get brighter.
Here is your call to action: Choose one holy habit. Keep it for 30 days and guard it fiercely. Make this discipline your focus, and let it be the anchor that keeps your faith vibrant and steadfast beyond the season.
After 30 days, share what habit you chose in the comments. Also, if you know someone who struggles each January, a family member, leader, or weary believer, share this message with them to encourage them in their journey.
Because Christmas is not a season, it is a divine mandate.
