When one chooses to follow Jesus, it is more than a change of belief. It is a worldview shift, and often a change of culture. This shift is especially profound in places where spiritual practices are woven into the fabric of daily life—where protection, blessing, and ritual are not optional add-ons, but expected acts that mark every transition. In these places, leaving old ways behind is not as simple as saying “I don’t believe that anymore.” It is more like stepping out of an inherited system that once defined safety, identity and belonging and into something unfamiliar.
A family we know is again (or still) walking through that journey. When they chose to follow Jesus, it set them apart from their extended family, their neighborhood and their community. Over time, they have been learning to reshape their daily lives in light of Christ. They are not adopting Western values or foreign traditions. They are intentionally aligning their lives with God in an Albanian context.
As part of their discipleship journey, we have intended to guide them not only to understand biblical truth for themselves but also to build a Christ-centered culture in their homes that infuses everyday decisions, celebrations, and traditions with meaning that flows from who Jesus is.
So when it came time to build an addition to their house, which would become a home for their son and his fiancée after their marriage, they faced a very real dilemma. In Albania, building a home carries deep spiritual meaning. It is not simply a construction project. It is a sacred threshold. And traditionally, that threshold is marked with rituals designed to protect the family and invite blessing.
It is common to hang dordolec (effigies or stuffed animals) on the framing to ward off the evil eye. In some areas (including this one), animal sacrifices are offered at the foundation, with the blood poured into the ground and the buried head of the animal often at the eastern corner. In some regions, bowls of water are placed at each corner of the site to determine the spiritual favorability of the land. It is very common for garlic, horseshoes and talismans to hang over entryways to guard the space. The hearth is reverently kept in honor of Nëna e Vatrës, the mother of the hearth, considered the spiritual protector of the home.
To those outside the culture, these may sound like superstitions. However, they are the outworking of a worldview that takes spiritual danger seriously and seeks tangible ways to stay protected. These practices are born of a deep instinct for spiritual safety and peace.
So when a family comes to Christ and steps away from those rituals, they often feel exposed. Not because they doubt God, but because they have been taught that without these acts, their home is spiritually vulnerable.
And unless they are given something to replace them, that fear does not simply vanish. It lingers. It grows. And when hardship comes or something goes wrong (and it always does), it is easy to question: Was something left undone? Did we invite trouble by not honoring the traditions?
This is where the work of discipleship matters most. Too often, we focus only on telling new believers what not to do. “Don’t perform the ritual. Don’t hang the talisman. Don’t do the sacrifice.” But we fail to ask: What need was that ritual intended to fulfill? What was it expressing? And what can we offer that aligns with Christ, instead of leaving a void?
If we disciple people by subtraction alone, stripping away without replacing, we leave them feeling spiritually vulnerable. Not because Jesus is insufficient, but because we have not taught them how to align their spiritual instincts with Him. They do not need to be talked out of ritual. They need to be taught how to redeem it.
Because the problem is not with the physical acts of rituals; the Scriptures are full of them. There was blood on doorposts, stones of remembrance, anointing with oil, lifting hands in blessing and the laying on of hands. Jesus used mud, spit, bread, water, breath and touch. Not as empty gestures, but as meaningful actions that helped people see, trust and remember who He was. His way of teaching often included simple, physical acts that spoke louder than words. The early church laid hands on people to heal, to bless and to commission leaders. They also blessed and spoke peace over homes and prayed for cities, bringing the presence of Christ wherever they went.
What we need to reject is not ritual, but misaligned sources and misplaced meaning. We want to be thoughtful about what we carry forward. If we are not intentional, syncretism can quietly form. Syncretism is what happens when we try to follow Jesus while still clinging to practices that do not align with His way.
“You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self . . . and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness” (Ephesians 4:22-24).
When this family asked us to bless the building site and to help them dedicate their homes to Jesus, we saw it for what it was. Not superstition or syncretism, but a desire to align with their Lord and Savior. They did not want to go back to old rituals that no longer aligned with their faith. But neither did they want to ignore the spiritual weight of what they were doing. They felt the eyes of the community watching. They felt the longing for the peace and protection that comes from being set apart. They wanted their home to be a place where holy angels love to dwell.
And so we came, not with a show, but with simplicity and reverence. We did not pour blood. We did not hang garlic. However, we did anoint the space with oil and pray over it. We spoke words of Scripture, words of peace. We invited the presence of God. We blessed the foundation and asked that this home would be one where love, hospitality and protection would be rooted in the authority of Jesus, not fear of spirits or the evil eye.
What happened was quiet and simple, but it mattered. The family felt blessing and protection. And most importantly, a Christ-centered culture was being built right under their feet.
When people leave behind an old belief system, they need more than Bible studies. They need ways to practice their faith in daily life. They may need meaningful rituals that meet real moments of fear, hope and transition.
Building a Christ-centered culture does not always mean rejecting everything from the past. It means discerning what must be left behind, what should be added, and what needs to be reoriented around Christ. If a family longs to mark their threshold as sacred, we do not shame that longing—we help them do it in Him.
If they instinctively reach for blessing and protection, we do not rebuke them. We teach them that Jesus is not indifferent to their home. He wants to dwell there. He is ultimately their shelter.
When we disciple with understanding and honor, we help new believers walk in freedom—not because they have erased every instinct, but because they have surrendered those instincts to the One who makes all things new.
Jesus does not need blood in the foundation or garlic over the doors. But He does call us to dedicate all we are and all we have to Him. And when families do that with open hands and trusting hearts, they replace fear-based rituals with Christ-centered consecration. When they build homes that reflect His peace, not just their beliefs, they are not just following Jesus. They are building a new legacy—one room, one brick, one threshold at a time.
