Data-Driven Discipleship

Last Saturday, drenched in sweat, I swiped a finger across the screen of my iPhone, still catching my breath from my workout. For three hours, I pedaled, keeping my heart rate and power steady. Now, with quivering quadriceps, I was scrolling through all the data to analyze my training session. It occurred to me how much we cyclists love data–power numbers, heart rate, cadence, distance, and of course, speed. After every ride, we study our Strava files to see where we were strong, where we faded, and how we can improve. We’re obsessive about it, really, and maybe that’s not entirely a bad thing. Perhaps that level of scrutiny was precisely what the Apostle Paul intended in the verse I was preaching the next day.

In Ephesians 5:15, Paul writes, ‘Therefore be careful how you walk, not as unwise men but as wise.’ The phrase ‘be careful’—blepete akribōs—carries a double intensity. Blepete means to look intently, to keep your eyes fixed on something, while akribōs demands precision—the same word used for a physician’s exact diagnosis or a scribe’s meticulous copying. Paul isn’t asking for a casual glance but surgical attention. He’s writing to people in Ephesus, where the temple of Artemis dominated not just the skyline but every business transaction, every social gathering. One careless step and you’re swept into the current of a culture that worships what it makes rather than who made it!

Strava for the Soul

Just like my ride data helps me see where I need to train differently as a cyclist, the Bible reveals where I need to grow in my walk with Christ. This ongoing process of Biblical self-assessment isn’t a one-time check-in, but a daily intense look at myself in the mirror of the Word. It’s not about condemnation, but about direction, making sure I’m riding the line God’s set for me. I’ve realized there are two essential ways I can do this: in quiet solitude and in community.

Solo Rides with God

First, solitude gives me the space to listen, to be still and allow God’s still small voice to come through. Just as a long solo ride clears my mind and sharpens my focus, time alone with my Heavenly Father (which often happens on long solo rides) invites me to search the depths of my heart honestly and hear His guidance. Psalm 46:10 reminds us, “Be still, and know that I am God.” In the quiet, I discover which parts of my heart have been running on autopilot, which spiritual muscles have grown soft from disuse.

The Peloton Effect

But just as riding alone only takes us so far, spiritual growth also requires the support of others. The second way I examine my spiritual well-being is through walking with trusted mentors and fellow believers. And like most things in cycling, the parallel runs deeper than I first realized.

There’s something about riding in a peloton that strips away pretense. You can’t fake your fitness for long. The group exposes your true condition within the first few miles. Christian community works the same way. We show up thinking we’re doing fine spiritually, and then someone asks a simple question that reveals we’ve been coasting for months, drafting off old spiritual momentum instead of pedaling into fresh obedience.

The irony isn’t lost on me. I’ll spend twenty minutes analyzing three hours of cycling data, but how often do I examine my spiritual condition with the same surgical precision Paul demands? Maybe that’s where real transformation begins: not in the dramatic moments of crisis or breakthrough, but in the daily discipline of looking carefully at how we’re actually walking, not how we think we’re walking. The peloton keeps us honest. The Spirit does the same.