No Accidental Saints

We don’t drift into Christlikeness. We don’t stumble into holiness. And we most definitely don’t become saints by accident. In a world obsessed with progress, performance, and public platforms, the idea of slowly becoming more like Jesus, over years, even decades, can feel like the long way around.

But it’s the only road that leads to life. Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” Matthew 7:13–14

We don’t talk much about the narrow way anymore. It doesn’t trend well. It’s not glamorous or instant. But it’s holy.

We don’t hear much about the narrow way anymore. In a time when easy options and instant gratification are the norm, the idea of a narrow path sounds restrictive, maybe even harsh. But Jesus wasn’t being cruel, He was being kind. He knew the wide road would leave us empty. So he us invites us into the narrow, not out of punishment, but because He knows that’s where peace lives. It’s where wholeness is formed. It’s where saints are made.

And the truth is, whether we realise it or not, we are always being formed. The shows we binge, the people we follow, the voices we give our attention to, they’re shaping us.

One of my favourite Authors, John Mark Comer, puts it like this, “We become like what we give our attention to.”

If we’re not actively following Jesus, we’re passively being discipled by something else. Busyness. Noise. Hustle. Consumerism. Even our own anxiety.

You’re always being shaped. The question is, by what?

We often say we want to grow. But growth always involves surrender. And surrender often feels like death. Think of Jesus when he uttered these words:“Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces much fruit.” — John 12:24

There is no fruit without falling. No life without letting go. No maturity without the slow, painful process of becoming less so Christ can become more. It’s not always visible. But that doesn’t make it any less powerful.

So what does walking the narrow road actually look like?

Here are three powerful (and surprisingly doable) practices drawn from ‘Becoming Like Jesus’ that can help you walk the slow, sacred path of spiritual formation, without burning out or checking out:

1. Slow Down to Catch Up to God

One of my favourite thinkers, Dallas Willard, used to say that we must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from our lives. And he was right. Because when we live constantly rushed, distracted, and overloaded—we miss the gentle voice of God that often speaks in the quiet.

When I look at the life of Jesus, I’m struck by how unhurried He was. He moved at the pace of peace. He was present. Interruptible. Grounded. He didn’t rush from place to place trying to prove Himself or please everyone. And it wasn’t just because He was divine—it’s because He lived from a deep well of rest, margin, and communion with the Father.

That challenges me. Because if Jesus needed rhythm and rest, how much more do we?

Try this: Set aside some “unhurried time with God” this week. No checklist. No pressure. Just show up. Breathe. Go for a walk. Sit in silence. Journal your heart. Let it be spacious.

The goal isn’t to get through something, it’s to be with Someone.

2. Craft a Rule of Life

Think of it like a trellis for your soul, a simple structure that helps your spiritual life grow in the right direction. Without it, things can start to feel tangled, reactive, and rushed. But when we build intentional rhythms into our days, we create space for God to shape us—gently, steadily, deeply.

This is something I’ve had to learn the hard way. Between parenting, ministry, and work, there have been seasons where my soul was running on empty. Now, I keep a few simple rhythms in place that help me stay grounded, like keeping at least a few mornings device-free until I’ve spent time with God, or protecting part of my Saturday as sacred space for rest and real connection.

Try this: Choose just one daily rhythm and one weekly rhythm to lean into this month. Maybe it’s reading a Psalm before checking your phone. Maybe it’s a screen-free walk with Jesus on your lunch break. Or maybe it’s lighting a candle and journaling every Sunday night. Start small. Build slowly. You’ll be surprised by how much peace it brings.

3. Live with Intentional Community

You weren’t designed to become like Jesus on your own.

One of the greatest lies of modern faith is that spiritual growth is a solo mission, but it’s just not true.

From the very beginning, formation was communal. The early church didn’t just gather on Sundays, they shared life, meals, tears, prayers, and purpose. And it changed the world.

Honestly? I wouldn’t be who I am today without the people who’ve walked with me. The friends who’ve reminded me who I am when I’ve forgotten. The mentors who’ve gently called me higher. The community that’s prayed me through when I didn’t have the strength to stand on my own.

We grow best in relationship. We heal in safe spaces. We become more like Jesus together.

Try this: Don’t just attend church, lean in. Join a connect group. Invite someone over for a slow dinner. Text a friend and say, “Hey, want to read something together this month?” You don’t need a massive tribe. You just need a few intentional voices that help keep your heart soft and your faith strong.

“A saint is not someone who is good, but someone who has experienced the goodness of God.” Thomas Merton

You don’t need to strive to become more spiritual. You won’t become a saint by accident.
But you can become one on purpose. You need to slow down enough to let Jesus meet you in your actual life, one slow, surrendered step at a time.

About the Author

Sabrina is a devoted pastor and trained psychologist, passionate about following Jesus and helping people. Together with her husband Ben, they lead Kingdomcity in Brisbane, part of a thriving global church. With nearly two decades of ministry experience, Sabrina is a dynamic speaker and writer, integrating spiritual truths and clinical expertise.

Disclaimer: This article reflects my personal Christian faith and worldview. It is shared to encourage reflection and is not intended to impose beliefs, or serve as professional psychological advice. I respect that each reader may hold different beliefs and invite you to engage with the content in a way that honours your own values.