“But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.” —Hebrews 5:14

There’s a huge difference between someone who wants to follow Jesus and someone who trains to follow Him.

That’s what Hebrews 5:14 is about. The writer isn’t talking about head knowledge or emotional experience. He’s talking about spiritual reflexes. The kind of maturity where you don’t just know right from wrong—you recognize it instinctively. You feel it in your bones.

But how do you get there?

The answer is in that word: trained.

My Definition of Training

In 21 Laws of Discipleship, I put it this way:

“Training means doing what is difficult to do until what is impossible to do becomes easy to do.”

That’s not just clever—it’s true. It’s biblical. It’s life-changing.

Let’s break it down.

When you begin to train in anything—whether it’s running, guitar, Spanish, or Scripture—it’s hard. Everything is unfamiliar. Your muscles ache. Your brain resists. Your habits rebel.

At first, prayer feels awkward. Scripture feels dry. Silence feels empty. Forgiveness feels impossible. But through training—repetition, structure, perseverance—you slowly change.

What once was difficult becomes familiar.

What once was unfamiliar becomes second nature.

What once was impossible becomes normal.

What once required discipline becomes almost effortless.

That’s the power of training.

Training vs. Trying

This is where so many Christians get stuck. They confuse trying with training.

Trying is what you do when you grit your teeth in a moment of pressure. You decide, “I’m going to be loving today.” But trying is like showing up at the gym for the first time and expecting to deadlift 300 pounds.

It’s not that your heart is wrong—it’s that your capacity isn’t ready.

Training, by contrast, is what builds capacity over time. It creates room for grace to grow.

Trying focuses on the moment. Training focuses on the process.

Trying depends on willpower. Training depends on structure.

Trying expects instant fruit. Training expects slow roots.

From Difficult to Easy to Automatic

Let’s use an example. Suppose you’re not naturally patient.

At first, responding patiently in traffic, with your kids, or in meetings feels impossible. Every moment is a test. You fail more than you succeed. But you start training. You read verses on patience. You memorize one. You start pausing for five seconds before speaking. You write down what triggers your anger. You pray through those moments every day.

At first, it’s still hard.

But slowly, the Holy Spirit works through your training.

The five-second pause becomes instinctive.

You begin to feel compassion where you used to feel frustration.

You notice your breathing stays calm even in chaos.

You catch yourself loving more easily.

That’s the miracle of training.

What once felt impossible is now happening—and you didn’t even have to force it.

That’s what Jesus meant when He said,

“Take my yoke upon you… For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” —Matthew 11:29–30

His yoke becomes easy—but only for those who train to carry it.

The Bible Is Full of This Principle

Paul uses training language constantly:

• “Train yourself to be godly.” —1 Timothy 4:7
• “Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training.” —1 Corinthians 9:25
• “Discipline yourself for the purpose of godliness.” —1 Timothy 4:8 (NASB)

Jesus trained His disciples—not just taught them. They followed. They practiced. They failed and got back up. They were sent on practice runs. They learned on the road.

Discipleship is not a lecture. It’s lab work.

How Things Become Automatic

The human brain is wired for training. Through repetition, our neural pathways adapt. Habits form. Responses become reflexive.

Psychologists call this neuroplasticity—the brain’s ability to rewire itself. Scripture simply calls it renewal.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” —Romans 12:2

The point of training isn’t to act loving or joyful or humble—it’s to become that kind of person.

At some point, you no longer have to force yourself to pray—you want to.

You don’t have to bite your tongue to avoid gossip—you just don’t feel the itch.

You don’t have to count to ten to stay calm—peace has grown inside you.

This is the reward of training: transformation that becomes automatic.

The Role of Grace in Training

Training is not self-improvement. You’re not building a better version of yourself—you’re being formed into the image of Christ.

And that can only happen through grace.

But grace is not magic. Grace works with our effort. As Dallas Willard said:

“The path of spiritual growth in the riches of Christ is not a passive one. Grace is opposed to earning, not to effort.”

God provides the power. You bring the consistency.

He works in you. You work it out.