The Cognitive Dissonance of Spiritual Amnesia in the West
Audio Transcript
Hi, guys—welcome back to the podcast! It goes without saying, but this feels weird for so many reasons. I honestly don’t remember the last time I sat down in front of a camera to film myself for a podcast episode. It’s probably been around three years. And even just recording audio—it’s been at least a month or two. So if you’re here listening, thank you. I’m back, in front of this Blue Yeti mic (shout out to Blue Yeti), and filming on my iPhone (which, praise the Lord, has pretty good video quality). We’re doing the thing!
The intro is going to be a bit of a smorgasbord of thoughts and updates, but hang with me—we will get into the meat of today’s episode, I promise.
Why Video Again?
So, why am I recording this on video again? Honestly, I’m just trying it out and praying it works. If you’re hearing the audio and can’t find a video anywhere, that means it failed. But we’re trusting the Lord with it. If it works—great. If not, we’ll stick with audio, which is totally fine.
The reason I originally stopped doing video was simply that it became too cumbersome. Our home is a small ranch-style house—about 1,300 square feet—and when the whole family is asleep, I’m limited to recording in the kitchen or living room. Neither space felt ideal. I didn’t love how it looked or sounded, and I didn’t have a proper setup. So I let that perfectionism stop me from recording video altogether.
Why the Hiatus?
Now, let’s talk about the hiatus. I launched Season 2 with such excitement, and then—three episodes in—I disappeared. I genuinely felt sad about it. But, it was kind of the perfect storm.
First, I started a new job at a marketing consulting agency. I really enjoy it, but transitioning back into the workforce while also staying home full-time with three kids has been an adjustment. We don’t have local family support outside of Jeremy’s grandparents (who we see weekly) and his dad (who has a very busy work schedule). The only help we have is from a sitter we pay.
So yeah—margin disappeared. The podcast had to go on the back burner.
On top of that, we’ve been hit hard with sickness. It’s been months of illnesses, interrupted sleep, and just a general lack of capacity. I don’t think I’ve slept more than a four-hour stretch consistently in the past six months. New moms, you know. Veteran moms, you really know.
All of that, compounded by my perfectionism, made it really hard to pour into this podcast the way I wanted. I’m not a perfectionist in every area—my husband would laugh if I said that—but when it comes to this kind of thing, I want it to be great. I come from a techie family—my dad is a photographer, my brother’s a music producer. I wanted perfect lighting, perfect sound, a real studio setup. But I don’t have that, and that’s okay. I don’t need it to communicate encouragement. And I know you guys don’t expect that from me—I’ve just been putting that pressure on myself.
A Moment of Honesty
There was even a point where I considered quitting the podcast altogether. I felt like maybe this wasn’t the right time. But rather than making a drastic decision, I paused. I prayed. I waited. And now, I feel good. I’m not going to promise perfect weekly consistency. Maybe one day—if I get help, if this becomes more structured or supported—but for now, I’m just showing up. And I’m so grateful you’re still here.
Also—thank you. Really. Every time you message me about an episode that encouraged you, it means the world. It reminds me that this work isn’t wasted. So please keep doing that—text me, DM me, email me. I’m even on Facebook now (kind of fumbling my way through that), so you can message me there too.
Recommendations
Okay, let’s jump into the recommendations section. Y’all know I love sharing what I’m reading, listening to, or learning. I’ve always loved learning—but only as an adult. In high school and college, I couldn’t have cared less. In fact, fun fact: I was recently accepted into Denver Seminary’s Women’s Leadership Cohort for Spring 2026. I’m really excited!
This is kind of ironic because... I used to fall asleep in Old Testament class in college. No joke. I thought it was boring. I remember vividly my professor starting our first class with a philosophical discussion about “truth,” and I thought, “This is so dumb.” And yet—here I am, wanting a seminary degree. God’s funny like that.
Anyway, back to recommendations. Here are a few:
Praying the Bible by Donald S. Whitney. A short, practical read on how to pray Scripture. Super helpful—even though I haven’t implemented it as much as I’d like.
Scripture memorization books (because I’ve felt really convicted about this recently):
How to Memorize Scripture for Life by Andrew Davis
A Call to Scripture Memory by Susan Heck
Scripture Memorization (I think it's a Crossway book—I'll link it in the show notes.)
I read all three of these in one weekend. The biggest takeaway? Memorize when your hands are full but your mind is free—like doing dishes, nursing a baby, or folding laundry. I decided to start with the book of Colossians and memorize it three verses at a time. I’m four verses in! I’ve got them written on 4x6 sticky notes and taped to my kitchen wall.
Also, if you need encouragement:
Stephanie Gretzinger recently spoke at the Jesus Image Women’s Conference—highly recommend.
Francis Chan and Lisa Harper are two of my go-to speakers. So biblically grounded and never a waste of time.
Today’s Topic: Spiritual Amnesia
Now let’s talk about what this episode is actually titled: The Cognitive Dissonance of Spiritual Amnesia in the West. A mouthful, I know.
What does it mean?
Spiritual amnesia is our tendency to forget God—to forget what He’s done, who He is, what He’s called us to. And the cognitive dissonance comes from the tension we feel between what we say we believe and how we actually live.
I want to dive into Deuteronomy 6 for this. I’ll talk more about it in the next part of the episode, but moving forward, I want to structure this podcast around Scripture—pulling from passages that help us engage with the topic at hand. Culture is loud. But we have to come back to God’s Word and ask: What does God say?
When I was thinking about the topic of spiritual amnesia, Deuteronomy 6 immediately came to mind. It’s one of my favorite chapters in the Bible, and I return to it often. If you've never read it, I highly recommend not only Deuteronomy but the whole story of the Exodus—the Israelites’ journey into the Promised Land, the covenant, all of it. It's such a rich narrative, deeply human, and deeply revealing.
I want to talk through Deuteronomy 6—not necessarily verse by verse, but from a high level—and connect it to the idea of spiritual amnesia, especially in the West. Because let’s be honest: American Christianity is often lukewarm. It reminds me of the church in Laodicea in Revelation—“You are neither hot nor cold, and so I spit you out of my mouth.” The passage goes on to say, “You say, ‘I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing,’ not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.” That could describe so much of Western Christianity. We’re materially full and spiritually forgetful.
This theme—the correlation between prosperity and forgetting God—is not new. It's all over Scripture and all over history. When people are blessed, when they have abundance, they often drift. They forget. They neglect the Lord.
So, let’s look at Deuteronomy 6 in that light. For context, this chapter is Moses’ farewell address to the Israelites before they enter the Promised Land. He’s reminding them of their identity, their calling, and their covenant with God. It’s like he’s saying, “If you remember nothing else, remember this.”
Let’s pick it up in verse 4:
“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.
You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.
And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart.
You shall teach them diligently to your children,
and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way,
and when you lie down, and when you rise.
You shall bind them as a sign on your hand,
and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes.
You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”
This is such a beautiful and convicting passage. It calls for a kind of faith that permeates everything—our families, our rhythms, our homes, our habits. It’s not compartmentalized. It’s diligent. Persistent. All-encompassing.
But here's the kicker: You can't teach what you don't know. And back then, they didn’t have personal Bibles. They had to memorize the Word. They had to internalize it to be able to pass it on. That principle still applies to us today. We can't lead our kids—or ourselves—into a deep, abiding faith if we don't know God’s Word deeply ourselves.
Continuing into verse 10:
“And when the Lord your God brings you into the land that he swore to your fathers...
with great and good cities that you did not build,
and houses full of all good things that you did not fill,
and cisterns that you did not dig,
and vineyards and olive trees that you did not plant,
and when you eat and are full—
then take care lest you forget the Lord...”
That phrase—take care lest you forget the Lord—hits me every time.
This is what I see playing out in America and in much of the Western church today. We live in abundance. We live in comfort. We live in houses full of good things that we didn’t build. We eat and are full. We scroll and consume and accumulate—and we forget.
It’s not always intentional. Sometimes it’s just the busyness of life. I feel it in myself, as a mom of three, managing all the things. Life is full. But that doesn’t excuse forgetfulness. Because everything I have is from Him. By Him. For Him. Through Him.
And yet I often find myself giving more of my time, attention, and affection to my phone or my to-do list or my social media feed than to God. That’s spiritual amnesia. That’s cognitive dissonance—when you believe one thing and live another. Like the smoker who knows cigarettes are harmful but keeps smoking. You know it's wrong, but there's a disconnect.
That disconnect—that tension—is something I feel often. And maybe you do too. We know the truth. We know we’re called to more. But we often settle for less. We know God is waiting for us, longing for more of us. But we give our devotion elsewhere—our phones, our jobs, our relationships.
To whom much is given, much will be required.
That verse sobers me. We have more access to the Bible than any generation in history. We have printed Bibles, audio Bibles, apps, podcasts, YouTube, commentaries—an abundance of tools. And yet… how much time do we actually spend in the Word? How much do we treasure it?
Familiarity breeds apathy.
When something is always available, it can lose its sense of sacredness. In countries where owning a Bible is illegal, people risk their lives to read even a few verses. And here we are, with 12 translations at our fingertips, barely cracking them open.
This is why Deuteronomy 6 matters so much. It reminds us that blessing should lead us to remembrance—not forgetfulness.
"Take care, lest you forget the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt."
Take care, Justine—lest you forget the Lord who brought you out of brokenness, loneliness, fear, doubt, failure. Take care lest you forget the Lord who brought you into fullness—into the spiritual abundance we now have in Christ.
Let’s not let the comfort of our lives dull our spiritual senses. Let’s not become so full of material things that we forget the One who gives them.
We need to return.
I think returning to God should be a recognized spiritual discipline. Not just a one-time repentance, but a regular, intentional rhythm. Returning in the morning. Returning during our lunch break. Returning after we snap at our kids. Returning to church. Returning to the Word. Returning in prayer. Returning after distraction, sin, apathy, or forgetfulness.
And in that returning, remembering—who God is, what He’s done, what He’s promised.
So that’s where I want to leave us today. Let’s be people who return. People who remember. People who wrestle with the tension of living in abundance, but refuse to let it make us forget.
