A Mind That No Longer Passes Inspection

I didn’t think much of it the time. We had just moved to Northern Virginia, and everything in our life felt like a reset. New place, new routines, and very practical needs-like getting vehicles so we could function day to day.

Money was tight, so I was doing what a lot of people do when they’re trying to be wise with finances: I started looking for something affordable. I can’t remember who suggested that I go on Craigslist, but sure enough I found one listed in my price range for sale. It looked decent enough in the pictures. And even though something in me felt a little cautious-because, let’s be honest, buying a car from a stranger online never feels completely comfortable-I moved forward anyway. I met the seller, exchanged the money, and drove away with the car.

At first, it felt like a win. But something still nudged me. So I did the responsible thing and took it to a mechanic for inspection.

And you can probably guess what happened next…

That doggone car got REJECTED!! It didn’t pass inspection.

What looked fine on the outside didn’t meet the standard on the inside. There were issues hidden beneath the surface that made it unsafe, unfit, and ultimately unapproved for the road. And strangely enough, that moment stayed with me.

Because years later, I would realize-it was a picture of something much deeper.

When I was growing up in church, there was a word the older mothers would use that always carried weight: reprobate. I remember them saying things like, “Be careful you don’t become a reprobate,” or “the worst thing that could happen is for God to turn you over to yourself.” At the time, I didn’t fully understand what that meant. It sounded heavy, but distant-like something that happened to “other people.”

And honestly, in today’s world, I can almost hear the response: What’s so bad about being left to yourself? I like me. I trust my own judgment. I’m doing just fine. But one day, I came across the word in Scripture-and it stopped me. In Romans 1:28, the Bible says that because people chose not to retain God in their knowledge, “God gave them over to a reprobate mind.” And suddenly, that word wasn’t just church language anymore. It was inspection language.

It was the idea of something being tested-and not meeting the standard it was created for. What has stayed with me over time is not just the definition of the word-but the warning behind it. The word “reprobate refers to a hardened, depraved state of mind that has rejected God and morality, resulting in a loss of moral judgment, and an inability to repent. Key signs include a deliberate suppression of truth, persistent wickedness, calling evil good, callousness to sin, and intense pride or arrogance.

Because the descent described in Scripture isn’t loud or dramatic at first. It’s subtle. Almost unnoticeable. The Bible describes a progression: A rejection of truth. A drifting away from conviction. A gradual exchange of what is right for what feels right. And somewhere along the way, something begins to change internally. Things that once felt wrong don’t feel wrong anymore. Not because truth changed-but because sensitivity did.

That’s what I think those church mothers were warning about. Not fear for fear’s sake-but the danger of becoming numb to the very voice that keeps us aligned. Today, life is loud in a different way than it used to be. There are opinions everywhere. Voices everywhere. Constant reinforcement for whatever we already want to believe. And if we’re not careful, all of that noise slowly replaces something quieter-but far more important.

Conviction.

The more I think about all of this, the more I realize the conversation can’t just stay “out there.” It has to come back home. Not just what is culture becoming? But what is happening in me? Do I still feel conviction when I’m supposed to? Do I still pause when something doesn’t line up? Or have I learned how to move forward without that internal check? Because the real danger isn’t just being exposed to lies. It’s slowly losing the ability to recognize them.

Those older mothers weren’t trying to create fear. They were trying to protect something fragile and sacred-the kind of heart that still hears God.Because the tragedy they were pointing to wasn’t failure or struggle. It was silence. A place where conviction no longer speaks. But here’s the hope in all of it:

If you can still feel it…If something still stirs when truth is spoken…If there’s still a pause inside when something isn’t right..

Then your heart is responsive. And that means nothing is lost yet.

Mama Wisdom Reflection: So maybe the question isn’t whether the world is becoming numb. Maybe the real question is much closer than that:

Am I still listening? Because a heart that still hears conviction is a heart that can still be guided. And that is something worth protecting.