Welcome to Pamoja Podcast, the place where stronger
lives are built, faith is strengthened, hearts
are encouraged, and Christ -centered homes are
shaped through ordinary conversations that become
extraordinary encounters with God's truth. One
conversation, one story, one revelation at a
time. I'm your host, Barry Mwamba. In our last
conversation, I promised that I would share our
story. Not because our story is different from
everyone else's, but because I have come to realize
that many Christian couples quietly walk through
the same seasons while believing they are the
only ones experiencing them. For 15 conversations,
we have talked about a house in the middle of
the forest. We have talked about the foundation,
the windows. the warmth, the atmosphere. We have
discovered that every house has an atmosphere,
and that atmosphere is shaped by whatever is
allowed to reign inside it. Today, I want to
take you beyond the parable. I want to invite
you into our home, not to show you a perfect
marriage, but to show you the faithfulness of
a perfect God. Because there was a season when
Giselle and I discovered That knowing God's design
for marriage is not the same as living in it
every day. And looking back today, I don't believe
our greatest danger was conflict. I don't believe
it was disappointment. I don't even believe it
was misunderstanding. I believe our greatest
danger was something much quieter. Something
that almost every Christian experiences, yet
very few recognize, while it is happening. Complacency.
I have often wondered why the Bible spends so
much time warning believers to remain watchful.
Jesus said, Watch and pray so that you will not
enter into temptation. Peter wrote, Be alert
and of sober mind. Your adversary the devil prowls
around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to
devour. The writer of Hebrews encourages us to
encourage one another daily so that none of us
may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin.
There is a pattern throughout scripture. God
continually calls his people to stay awake spiritually.
Why? Because the greatest spiritual dangers rarely
announce their arrival. They quietly settle into
our routines until they begin to feel normal.
As I reflected on our own marriage, I realized
that this was exactly what happened to us. We
never stopped loving God. We never decided to
walk away from Him. We never woke up one morning
and said, Christ will no longer be the center
of our home. It happened much more quietly than
that. Life became busy. Responsibilities multiplied.
Children needed our attention. Ministry demanded
more. Work required more of us than it had before.
None of those things were sinful. In fact, many
of them were blessings from God. But blessings
can become distractions when they slowly replace
the one who gave them. That is the danger of
complacency. Complacency does not always look
like rebellion. More often, it looks like neglect.
It is the slow assumption that because we have
walked with God for many years, we no longer
need to pursue him with the same hunger we once
had. It quietly tells us that yesterday's intimacy
will be enough for today, but love has never
grown that way. No marriage remains healthy because
of yesterday's conversation. No friendship remains
strong because of yesterday's time together.
Every meaningful relationship is sustained by
continual fellowship. Why would our relationship
with God be any different? I think about the
church in Ephesus. Jesus commended them for their
perseverance, their discernment, and their faithfulness.
Outwardly, they looked like a healthy church,
yet his concern was not with what they were doing.
It was with what they had slowly stopped becoming.
You have forsaken the love you had at first.
There was still serving, still working, still
enduring, but something precious had quietly
faded. I wonder how many Christian homes look
exactly like that, still functioning, still attending
church, still raising children, still carrying
responsibilities. Yet the warmth that once filled
the house has become harder to recognize because
complacency slowly replaced pursuit. And perhaps
that is one of the enemy's greatest victories.
Not convincing us to hate God, simply convincing
us that we can safely live without intentionally
seeking him every day. That is where our story
began and at the time we didn't even realize
it. As I look back today, I don't think complacency
was the problem. I think it was the door. Once
that door was opened, other things quietly found
their way into our home. That is the nature of
spiritual complacency. It never comes alone.
It always brings something with it. The more
I reflected on our journey, the more I realized
that this pattern is found throughout scripture.
Adam and Eve did not lose the garden the day
they ate the fruit. Something had already changed
before they ever reached for it. They had stopped
depending on God's voice and started entertaining
another one. The fruit was simply the visible
consequence of an invisible drift. That is how
the enemy works. He rarely begins with the visible
sin. He begins by changing what captures our
attention. That is exactly what happened to Samson.
His strength did not disappear the day his hair
was cut. His downfall began long before that,
when he slowly became comfortable with crossing
boundaries that God had established for his life.
One decision led to another, one compromise prepared
the next, until one day he woke up believing
he could live exactly as he always had, not realizing
that the presence of God had departed from him.
That verse has always troubled me. He did not
know that the Lord had left him. What a frightening
sentence. Not because God is eager to abandon
his people. but because it reveals how easily
we can become unaware of what is happening inside
us while everything still appears normal on the
outside. I believe marriages can experience something
very similar. A husband and wife can still live
under the same roof, still go to church, still
raise the children, still smile in public, still
celebrate anniversaries, and yet, Without realizing
it, they began living beside one another instead
of walking together. That was our story. Not
because we stopped loving each other, but because
we slowly stopped protecting the relationship
that made our love grow. The conversations became
shorter. The moments together became less intentional.
We became very good at managing responsibilities.
but we were no longer investing in our relationship
with the same intentionality we once had. And
perhaps that is one of the greatest deceptions
of complacency. It convinces us that because
we are still functioning, we must also be flourishing.
But those are not the same thing. A marriage
can continue functioning while quietly losing
its warmth. A Christian can continue serving.
while quietly losing intimacy with God. A family
can continue living together while quietly drifting
apart. Looking back now, I can honestly say that
nothing dramatic had happened yet. If someone
had asked us how we were doing, we probably would
have answered, we're fine. And maybe we even
believed it. Because complacency has a way of
making slow drift feel normal. Until one day,
you realize how far you've drifted from where
you once were. There is something I have learned
over the years. No couple wakes up one morning
and decides to stop loving each other. That is
rarely how marriages begin to fall apart. It
usually starts with disappointments that are
never fully healed. Conversations that are postponed
until tomorrow, wounds that are never brought
into the light, and a growing distance that nobody
notices because life keeps everyone busy. Looking
back today, I can honestly say that Giselle and
I did not suddenly arrive at that place. We drifted
there. One season at a time. One disappointment
at a time. One misunderstanding at a time. Until
one day we looked at each other and realized
that we were no longer enjoying the marriage
we had once dreamed of building together. There
were moments when we genuinely wondered whether
we had reached the end of our journey. The joy
that had once come so naturally seemed difficult
to find. The conversations that once brought
us closer together sometimes left us feeling
even farther apart. The house was still standing,
but the atmosphere inside the house had changed.
There came a point where we began discussing
things that we never imagined we would discuss.
We talked about separating. We talked to lawyers.
We began organizing our finances as though we
were preparing to live two different lives. I
remember thinking that perhaps this was simply
how our story would end. After all, we had tried,
we had prayed, we loved God, and yet it seemed
as though we had nothing left to give each other.
If I am completely honest with you, there were
moments when I believed our first love was gone
forever. That is difficult to say, but it is
the truth. And perhaps someone listening today
has whispered those same words in the silence
of their own heart. Maybe you have wondered whether
what has been lost can ever be found again. Maybe
you have convinced yourself that your marriage
has reached a point beyond restoration. Maybe
you are still living in the same house, but it
no longer feels like home. If that is where you
are today, I want you to know that I understand
those emotions because we have walked through
them ourselves. But there is one thing I did
not understand at the time. I thought our greatest
problem was that we had lost our love for one
another. Looking back now, I see it differently.
Love was not the first thing we lost. The first
thing we lost was our shared pursuit of God's
presence. When Christ quietly stopped being the
center of our home, Everything else slowly began
to move out of its proper place. Our communication
suffered. Our patience became thinner. Forgiveness
became more difficult. The warmth we once enjoyed
became harder to recognize. Everything we have
talked about throughout this entire season was
no longer just a lesson. It had become our reality
and then... When we had almost convinced ourselves
that our story was over, God stepped into our
house once again. But God, there are two words
that appear throughout the Bible that have always
filled my heart with hope. But God, those two
words have changed the course of countless lives.
Joseph's brothers sold him into slavery. but
God turned what was meant for evil into good.
The children of Israel stood trapped between
Pharaoh's army and the Red Sea, but God made
a way where there seemed to be no way. Lazarus
had been in the tomb for four days, but God was
not finished writing his story. The cross appeared
to be Satan's greatest victory, but God raised
Jesus from the dead. Again and again, when man
reaches the end of himself, God begins revealing
what he had planned all along. That is exactly
what happened to us. When we had exhausted our
own strength, God reminded us that our marriage
had never been sustained by our strength in the
first place. It had always been sustained by
his grace. I cannot point to one single conversation.
that suddenly changed everything. I cannot point
to one counseling session that instantly fixed
our marriage. I cannot tell you that we woke
up one morning and every wound had disappeared.
That is not how God worked in our lives. He began
by bringing us back to Himself before He restored
our marriage, He restored our hearts, before
He healed our relationship with one another.
He renewed our relationship with Him, and that
changed everything. We began praying together
again, not because someone told us we had to,
but because we realized we could no longer live
without God's presence at the center of our home.
We returned to His word, not looking for information,
but looking for Him. We repented. Not only are
the things we had done wrong toward each other,
but of the ways we had slowly allowed other things
to take the place that only Christ was meant
to occupy. Looking back today, I don't believe
God simply repaired our marriage. He rebuilt
our foundation. He reminded us that our covenant
was never based on feelings. It was never sustained
by emotions. It was never secured by our own
determination. It was built upon Christ. And
when Christ returned to the center of our house,
the atmosphere began to change. Peace slowly
returned. Grace became easier to extend. Forgiveness
no longer felt impossible. Conversations that
had once ended in frustration began leading us
back toward understanding. The warmth returned,
not because our circumstances suddenly became
easier. but because the one who gives life to
the house was once again occupying his rightful
place. That is why I can stand before you today
with absolute confidence and tell you this. God
is not only able to restore marriages, he is
able to restore everything that seemed to disappear
inside the marriage. He restores hope. He restores
trust. He restores joy. He restores friendship.
He restores purpose. And sometimes, he even restores
the very love you thought had been lost forever.
Because our God has always been in the business
of resurrection. He doesn't simply make things
better. He makes all things new. When I look
back on that season today, I don't see failure
the way I once did. I see a loving Father who
refused to let us continue building our marriage
without Him at the center. At the time, I thought
God was simply trying to save our marriage. Now
I believe He was doing something much greater.
He was teaching us what marriage was always meant
to be. Marriage was never intended to be sustained
by feelings. Feelings are beautiful. They are
gifts from God. But they were never meant to
become the foundation of a covenant. There were
days when we felt deeply in love with one another.
There were other days when those feelings seemed
very far away. If our marriage had been built
upon emotions alone, it would never have survived.
But our covenant rested upon something much stronger
than emotions. It rested upon the faithfulness
of God. That changed the way we understood love.
We stopped asking, how do I feel today? We began
asking, how can I honor the covenant God has
entrusted to us today? Those are very different
questions. One is centered on self. The other
is centered on Christ. I also discovered something
that I had never fully understood before. God
never asked me to change Giselle. He asked me
to become more like Christ. That realization
transformed the way I looked at our marriage.
Instead of waiting for her to make the first
step, God began dealing with my own heart. He
exposed my pride. He revealed my impatience.
He confronted the expectations I had placed upon
my wife that only he could fulfill. And I have
no doubt that at the same time, God was doing
his work in Giselle's heart as well. That is
how restoration begins. Not when one person changes
the other, but when both people allow God to
change them. That is why I no longer believe
the greatest miracle in our story was that we
stayed married. The greatest miracle was that
Christ reclaimed his rightful place in our home.
Because when he returned to the center, everything
else slowly found its proper place again. The
atmosphere changed. The conversations changed.
Our home changed. Our future changed. Looking
back today, I understand my father's story better
than I ever did as a young man. The secret of
the house in the middle of the forest was never
the walls. It was never the windows. It was never
even the fire itself. The secret was always the
one the house was built for. A house where Christ
is welcomed will never be a house without hope.
It may experience storms. It may experience seasons
of pain. It may even experience moments when
the fire grows weak. But if Christ remains at
the center, there is always hope for restoration.
That is the testimony we wanted to share with
you. Not because our marriage is perfect, but
because our savior, As we come to the end of
this journey together, I find myself thinking
once again about my father. Many years ago, he
told me a simple story about a house in the middle
of the forest. At the time, I thought he was
teaching me about marriage. Today, I realize
he was teaching me about life, because every
one of us is building a house. Some of you are
preparing to get married. Some of you have been
married for only a few years. Others have spent
decades together. Some of you are walking through
one of the happiest seasons of your lives. Others
are listening today with tears in your eyes because
your house no longer feels like home. Wherever
you are on that journey, I want you to remember
one thing. Never stop protecting the presence
of God in your home. Protect it more than your
reputation. Protect it more than your success.
Protect it more than your possessions. Protect
it more than being right. Because when God's
presence remains at the center of your house,
He will give you the wisdom to face every disagreement.
the humility to ask for forgiveness, the grace
to forgive one another, and the strength to remain
standing when the storms eventually come. The
forest has never been the greatest danger. Storms
have never been the greatest danger. Even conflict
has never been the greatest danger. The greatest
danger is quietly learning to live without intentionally
seeking the one who gave life to your home in
the first place. Don't allow busyness to replace
devotion. Don't allow familiarity to replace
gratitude. Don't allow routine to replace worship.
Don't allow complacency to convince you that
yesterday's relationship with God will be enough
for today's challenges. Continue praying together.
Continue opening God's Word together. Continue
worshiping together. Continue speaking life over
one another. Continue protecting the atmosphere
inside your home, because your children are growing
inside that atmosphere. They are learning what
love looks like, what forgiveness looks like,
what faith looks like, and what it means to follow
Christ, not only by listening to what you say,
but by watching how you live. One day, they will
build houses of their own. The atmosphere you
cultivate today will become part of the foundation
they carry into the next generation. That is
why your marriage is bigger than the two of you.
It is a testimony. It is a ministry. It is a
legacy. And before we close this season, I want
to leave you with the same lesson my father left
with me. Never forget that the house was built
in the middle of the forest. The forest never
disappeared. The wind never stopped blowing.
The cold never stopped surrounding the house.
But none of those things determined what happened
inside. The atmosphere inside the house was determined
by what was protected inside the house. May that
always be true of your home. May Christ always
remain the center of your marriage. May his presence
always be the fire that fills every room. And
may your house become a place where your children,
your grandchildren, your friends, and everyone
who enters can experience the peace, the love,
and the faithfulness of God. Because in the end,
the greatest testimony of a Christian marriage
is not that it never faced the forest. It is
that, in the middle of the forest, it never stopped
welcoming the presence of God. Before we close
this season, I want to thank every one of you
who has walked with us through the house in the
middle of the forest. What began as a simple
story my father shared with me became a journey
that reminded us of something we must never forget.
A Christian home is not sustained by walls. It
is not sustained by emotions. It is not even
sustained by good intentions. A Christian home
is sustained by the presence of God. That is
my prayer for you, that your house will remain
warm, that your family will remain united, and
that Christ will always be at the center of everything
you build. But as we close this season, another
question is already on my heart. What happens
after the house is built? Because protecting
a Christ -centered home is only one part of the
journey. The reality is that every day we walk
into a world filled with responsibilities, opportunities,
promotions, ambitions, deadlines, and pressures
that quietly compete for our attention. Very
few homes are destroyed overnight. Many are slowly
neglected while we are busy trying to build a
successful life. That is why, in our next season
of Pamoja Podcast, we're going to explore a journey
that I believe speaks to every husband, every
wife, every parent, every leader, every entrepreneur,
every employee, and everyone who has ever struggled
to keep life in its proper order when success
steals your life. Together, we will discover
how success can quietly create isolation. how
ambition can slowly replace devotion, how providing
for the people we love can sometimes keep us
away from them, and why some of the greatest
spiritual battles are fought not in moments of
failure but in seasons of achievement. We will
talk about David before Bathsheba, the appetite
created by isolation, work husbands and work
wives, providing everything except yourself.
when labor becomes an idol, and how to come home
again before success costs us what matters most.
Because success is a wonderful servant, but it
is a terrible master. And if we are not careful,
we may gain everything we were chasing, while
quietly losing everything God entrusted to our
care. I cannot wait to begin this journey with
you. Until then, Continue protecting the atmosphere
inside your home. Continue making room for the
presence of God. Continue choosing one another.
And remember, the greatest success you will ever
achieve is not measured by what you accomplish
in the world, but by what remains alive inside
your home when you walk through the front door.
I'm Barry Mwamba. Thank you for joining me on
Pomoja Podcast. God bless you, and I'll see you
in season two, when success steals your life.