The Weight Of Our Witness

The apostle Paul understood this deeply when he said, “I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some” (1 Corinthians 9:22). His life was shaped not by personal preference, but by eternal purpose. Paul lived with the awareness that everything he did either opened a door for the gospel or risked closing one.  

Paul also makes a crucial distinction when he says, “All things are lawful for me, but not all things are helpful… not all things build up” (1 Corinthians 10:23). Freedom in Christ was never meant to be exercised without wisdom or love. Just because something is permissible does not mean it is beneficial—especially when it comes to our witness. As believers, we are called to consider not only what we are free to do, but how our actions affect those around us, particularly those who are lost, wounded, or watching from a distance.  

As we mature in Christ, our hearts begin to align more closely with God’s heart for people. We start seeing the world differently. We stop asking, “Can I do this?” and start asking, “Should I?” or “Will this help someone move closer to Jesus?” When that shift happens, we naturally begin eliminating things from our lives—not because we are forced to, but because love compels us.  Anything that could confuse our witness, cause another to stumble, or blur the clarity of who Christ is in us becomes less attractive.  

Alcohol is one of the most common examples of this tension. The question is often framed as, “Can a Christian drink?” but maturity reframes it to, “Why would I need to?” When the peace, joy, and fulfillment found in Christ outweigh the temporary pleasure of a drink, the desire fades.  Especially outside the home, where our actions are visible and our influence is real, many believers choose restraint—not out of legalism, but out of love. Not wanting to become a stumbling block to someone battling addiction, wrestling with faith, or searching for hope becomes more important than exercising personal freedom.  

When we look at the early church and the lives of Paul and the apostles, we don’t see a fixation on personal liberties. We see men consumed with mission. Their focus was the Kingdom of God, the salvation of souls, and the eternal destiny of people. They lived with urgency, intentionality, and clarity. Their lives pointed unmistakably to Christ.  

This is the quiet mark of spiritual maturity: when love for God and love for people begin shaping our choices more than rights or preferences. We become less concerned with what we are allowed to do and more concerned with how clearly Jesus is seen through us. Not religious. Not performative. Just a living witness of grace, mercy, and truth—wherever we go.  

A Personal End Note 

I want to say this plainly and honestly. I don’t celebrate my tattoos. I live with them because they’re on me, but I don’t love them. They came from a season of rebellion, confusion, and misplaced identity, not from clarity or calling. Scripture says, “The times of ignorance God overlooked, but now He commands all people everywhere to repent” (Acts 17:30). I remember a time before tattoos were popular, when people would say things like, “I don’t have tattoos, so I can’t reach the people you reach, ” or “I can’t witness in those circles.  ” I believed that for a while too. Looking back now, I realize how wrong that thinking was.  

Anointing does not require tattoos. The favor of God does not need ink. Authority does not come from markings on the body — it comes from a surrendered heart. Scripture confirms this: “Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, says the Lord” (Zechariah 4:6). We don’t need external symbols to validate our ability to reach broken people. God has always used yielded hearts, obedient lives, and genuine love to reach the lost — “Man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).  

Many times, we justify our desire for tattoos by spiritualizing it — as if it somehow enhances our witness or credibility. But the truth is, Jesus doesn’t need our image to do His work. He needs our availability.  “Here am I; send me” (Isaiah 6:8). I’ve been in dark places, dangerous places, and hard environments, and I’ve learned this: it’s not what’s on your skin that opens doors — it’s what you carry in your spirit.  “The Kingdom of God does not consist in talk but in power” (1 Corinthians 4:20).  

This isn’t condemnation. It’s clarity. And it must be said rightly. Scripture assures us, therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1). But that promise is not permission to remain unchanged — it is assurance for those who are walking in surrender, not using grace as a covering for unresolved rebellion. As Paul also warned, “There is “Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means!” (Romans 6:1–2).  

God doesn’t need us to look a certain way to use us powerfully. He only asks for a heart fully His.  

I also want to share something personal and sobering. There was a time when the Spirit of the Lord spoke to me very clearly and said, “Scott, Satan was tattooing you as his.  ” He then led me back, tattoo by tattoo, starting with the very first one. As I prayed, He brought back the memories — why I got each one, what season I was in, what I was agreeing with at the time. I realized there was a spiritual timeline written on my body, connected to rebellion, pain, identity, and darkness I didn’t yet understand. One by one, the Lord had me renounce those agreements and bring them under the authority of Christ.  

That experience taught me something important: there are spiritual implications happening behind the scenes that we don’t always see. Scripture tells us, “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against… the spiritual forces of evil” (Ephesians 6:12). Just like when we eat fruit, we can’t see the vitamins and nutrients entering our body — but they are going in — the same is true spiritually. What we participate in, agree with, or take into ourselves can have unseen effects on the soul and spirit.  “A little leaven leavens the whole lump” (1 Corinthians 5:6).  

This does not mean God cannot redeem, heal, or restore — He absolutely does. It means that maturity invites us to take spiritual agreement seriously. The gospel is not fear-based, but it is truth-based. And truth leads us not into condemnation, but into freedom: “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32).