Have you ever felt like you were doing everything right on the outside, but something inside still felt bound up, like a bird in a cage? I’ve been there. Oh, have I ever been there!
There was a time in my life when I thought being a “good Christian” meant checking all the boxes. Praying a certain way. Talking a certain way. Even felt guilty when I laughed too loud in church. I wore this invisible weight of religious performance around my neck like some strange badge of honor. But deep down? I was exhausted. I wasn’t free. I was bound—and I didn’t even know it.
What bound me wasn’t some obvious sin or rebellion—it was legalism. That sneaky, soul-suffocating system that says, “If you just do more, be more, follow more rules, THEN you’ll be acceptable to God.” It sounds spiritual, doesn’t it? But it’s a lie. A loud, cruel lie that whispers, “You’re never enough.”
And I believed it.
I didn’t realize how deeply legalism had shaped the way I viewed myself—and how I viewed God. I saw Him as a taskmaster, not a loving Father. I lived with this low-grade anxiety, always wondering if I’d measured up that day. I knew Jesus died for me, but somehow, I thought it was still on me to stay in His good books. Grace felt like a theory. Legalism felt like life.
But then… something beautiful happened.
It wasn’t a lightning bolt or a burning bush. It was something far quieter, but even more powerful. God’s grace over time started to unravel the lies. Gently, kindly, persistently.
One day, in my wrestling, I asked God, “Why do I feel stuck? Why do I feel like I know the truth, but I’m not walking in it?” And I sensed this whisper in my spirit: “You’ve built your faith on performance, not relationship. Let Me show you who I really am.”
Friend, that moment cracked open something in me. I cried like a baby. Not out of guilt, but out of relief. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe.
God wasn’t standing over me with a checklist. He was waiting to embrace me.
I’ve spent years since then learning (and unlearning!) what grace really looks like. And spoiler alert: it’s not neat and tidy. Grace is messy and wild and completely unfair in the best way. It reaches into the darkest corners of our minds, the places we don’t talk about at Bible studies. The places we lock away with keys made of shame, fear, and disappointment.
Legalism builds walls in our hearts—walls made of “shoulds” and “have-tos.” But grace? Grace breaks those walls down. Not with force. With love. With hope. With Jesus.
Now don’t get me wrong—I still have days where the old mindset tries to creep back in. That little voice still whispers, “You should’ve done more. You’re falling short.” But here’s the thing: I know that voice now. It’s not God. It’s not grace. It’s the echo of legalism, trying to pull me back into the prison I’ve already been set free from.
And legalism isn’t just a personal struggle—it’s global. It’s everywhere. It’s in churches, in religious systems, in governments, and even in our own homes. It’s especially dangerous because it wears a religious mask. It looks holy, but it’s hollow.
As a pastor, I’ve seen how legalism destroys lives. How it crushes joy. How it causes people to walk away from faith, not because they’ve encountered Jesus, but because they’ve only known the rules about Him.
And don’t even get me started on how legalism becomes a weapon in the enemy’s hands. He’s clever, you know. He doesn’t always come in with pitchforks and horns.
Sometimes, he comes in with Bible verses twisted just enough to bind your heart instead of freeing it.
Honestly? I believe legalism is one of Satan’s favourite tools right now. He’s using it to stir division, fear, fanaticism, and condemnation. It’s everywhere, radical religion like Islam, oppressive ideology, people using God’s name to justify hate. That’s not the gospel.
That’s not Jesus.
Jesus came to set us free. That’s not just a poetic idea—it’s a promise. He didn’t die on the cross so we could live in spiritual prisons. He came to break every chain—even the religious ones we didn’t know we were wearing.
So, where do we go from here?
We go back to grace. Always back to grace. We come to God as we are—messy, inconsistent, still learning. We stop trying to earn what’s already been freely given. We trust that God is not looking for perfect behavior, He’s looking for open hearts.
Friend, if you’ve been living under the weight of legalism, I want to say this: you’re not alone, and you’re not crazy. You’re just tired of pretending. And that’s a beautiful place to start.
Let grace find you.
Let it flood the dry places. Let it dismantle the walls. Let it change the way you see God—and yourself.
And if anyone ever tells you that you’re not doing enough for God to love you, smile sweetly and say, “Thanks, but I’ve already got His love. It came with no strings attached.”
Because that, dear one, is the truth that sets you free.
Want to talk more about this or share your journey? Shoot me a message or leave a comment—I’d love to hear your story.
RJ (Rox) Nolin
Just a point, Legalism is the belief that a person must follow a strict set of religious rules or behaviors to earn God's approval, love, or salvation. It shifts the focus from a relationship with Jesus to performance, often creating guilt, fear, and spiritual exhaustion instead of freedom and grace.
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