Spiritual Transformation

Newness appeals to me. It’s a thrill to find price tags still on handed-down clothes or to brush my lips against an infant’s cheek. Unopened packs of notebook paper, the scent in a vehicle just off the assembly line, and houses that no one else has lived in are a few of my favorite things.

How curious that I would choose a rusty, worn button from a box of trinkets and expect to feel inspired. As I study this metal bobble, my mind goes blank. Regretting my choice, I glance around for a wastebasket, longing for a “do-over” selection and praying for a creative thought. 

Would someone else find usefulness in this castoff? Is there a purpose or even hidden beauty to be found? I imagine watching a craftsman remove the tarnish and shine the silver to bring the raised images adorning the button to life again. Suddenly I can picture its face sparkling anew after being refastened to a coarse wool jacket or starched uniform.

The possibilities are as limitless as the hand that restores.

Sometimes I feel like a button out of touch with the fabric of God. Maybe not completely separated from His original purpose for my life, but definitely hanging on by a thread. Worldly. Selfish. Unloving. 

Ephesians 4 describes the transformation that takes place in the life of a Christian. Young believers are commissioned to grow into maturity, and with this objective comes the need to cast off the old. “And then take on an entirely new way of life — a God-fashioned life, a life renewed from the inside and working itself into your conduct as God accurately reproduces his character in you” (Ephesians 4:24, The Message).

This verse confirms that the change begins on the inside, which happens to be impossible for humans to see. We can criticize appearances and judge actions, but we can’t know what the Recreator is doing in the soul of a person who has opened the door to divinity. The veiled spark of restoration may eventually come to light in a more patient attitude or gentling words of sympathy. We might notice a hint of servant leadership or incredible kindness in the most unlikely person or see generosity in a soul who has never seemed to have much to give. 

It shouldn’t come as a surprise. The promises are clear in terms of what to expect from our metamorphosis into Christlikeness. And yet we struggle, battling against pride and fear. By nature, we choose the comfort of who we are over the risk of becoming something else, despite an undeniable conviction that different will be better.

One of my favorite authors explains it this way: “Many have a vague idea that they must make some wonderful effort in order to gain the favor of God. But all self-dependence is vain. It is only by connecting with Jesus through faith that the sinner becomes a hopeful, believing child of God.”

Does that connection come from kneeling bedside before the day begins? Journaling prayers and heavenly impressions? Delving into scripture with gusto? Is it more about modeling the faith of a child? Singing praises? Volunteering at the local soup kitchen? 

Your road to kinship with Christ might take an alternate path or happen at a different pace than mine. What is done isn’t nearly as important as actually doing it! And because of God’s incredible sense of fairness and personal choice, the first move is on us. So why do we let so many days slip by without any interaction with Him? How can relational spirituality come alive for you or me when we go it alone?

I’ve got to flip the switch. Finding whatever initiates heavenly intimacy for me and then following through is the only way to start the process of Him living in me. Something as simple as talking to Jesus throughout the day—sharing appreciation, voicing a plea when stressed, breathing a request when convicted of someone’s need—becomes a catalyst for shifting casual acquaintance into a deepening friendship. 

Even though it’s been His master design all along, Jesus patiently waits for each of us to accept His offer to make a home in our hearts and restore us to a reflection of Him. I’ve realized that I can’t sparkle until I’m sewn on tight. That’s when I’ll begin to look like Him, act like Him, and reflect His love.

Lord, help me to shine bright as new.

~ By Tina First Smith