The Leading Edge of Life-Change

I spoke with a number of friends–all followers of Jesus–over the past week. We all share a common longing. We want to grow. We want substantial change. We want to be closer to Jesus, to know him better, to live more fully in his grace, to depend more fully on the Spirit. We want to be able to look back and see evidence that we grown in the grace and knowledge of the Lord Jesus (2 Peter 3:18).

In an earlier post (“Transformation”) I was reflecting on some of how Gospel transformation happens in our lives. And I am still trying to think well–to think Biblically–about such transformation.

The leading edge in Gospel transformation must be grace. The Gospel is not good advice we need to put into practice nor guidelines for how to get our acts together so as to live pleasing to God. The Gospel is about how God has invaded our world in Jesus to rescue and redeem and bring us into life. He is the one who began the good work in us, and he is the one who will bring it to completion (Philippians 1:6).

But that doesn’t mean we aren’t to lean into what God is doing in our lives. He transforms us, in some sense, in drawing us into what he is doing in our lives and making us active participants in this work of grace.

The Lord addressed Abraham while he and Sarah were childless and calls him a father of many nations (Genesis 17). God speaks to Gideon and calls him a “valiant warrior” while Gideon is hiding in a wine-press, threshing a handful of grain (Judges 6). Jesus gives unstable and impulsive Peter the nickname “Rock” before there is any evidence of his “solidness” (John 1:42). These are just a few of the examples that could be multiplied time and again throughout Scripture. And in each case, those “called” by God grew up to be what God called them into by grace–and they gave themselves to that call and experienced that grace.

The leading edge is what God says about the person. The participation comes in giving into what God is saying. And I think that is the way forward for our life-change as well.

We listen for, we hear, we look for, we grasp, what it is that God is calling us to be by grace, by the Spirit, because of Jesus. And then we give ourselves to that.

So what is it that you are hearing, what are you seeing, what is God saying, how is he calling you in the Gospel, by the Spirit, through his Word, because of Jesus?

Transformation

I saw a wonderful production of “My Fair Lady” last evening. Marvelous. I love the show and the music is wonderful. But something caught my attention in the way this particular great cast told the story that stirred my thinking in Gospel ways. Thinking about transformation.

I assume that many know the basic story, rooted in a Greek myth, put into a more modern form in George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion, and made into an American of musical classic by Lerner and Loewe. Professor Henry Higgins, master of the English language, expert on pronunciation and diction, and confirmed bachelor, takes a poor English flower girl named Eliza Doolittle under his tutelage in order to win a light-hearted bet with a friend, Colonel Pickering, by transforming Miss Doolittle’s language and manners in order to pass her off as a lady of breeding and culture. The story revolves around Higgins well-intentioned but emotionally insensitive efforts of “making a woman” out of what he refers to as a “common gutter-snipe” as well as Miss Doolittle’s growth into a woman, her growing affections for Higgins, and her coming into her own understanding of life and relationships–including her relationship with Higgins.

As the story draws to the end, it is eminently clear–Higgins has won his bet. Miss Doolittle can, indeed, now fit into the finest of English society. But this leaves her in a bit of turmoil as to what is to become of her. Having left the home of Higgins where she had been staying, she visits with Professor Higgins’ mother, whom she had met earlier, to get some advice as to where to go with her life. And there she and the Professor have a climactic encounter. She is there for advice from Higgins’ mother about her future, he is there for advice from his mother about what to do about Eliza’s departure.

In their exchange, Miss Doolittle speaks about the transformation she has undergone. The Professor’s mother asks her how she learned real manners and courtesy given Higgins’ brusk and seemingly insensitivity manner.

It was very difficult. I should never have known how ladies and gentlemen really behaved, if it hadn’t been for Colonel Pickering. He always showed what he thought and felt about me as if I were something better than a common flower girl. You see, Mrs. Higgins, apart from the things one can pick up, the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she is treated. I shall always be a common flower girl to Professor Higgins, because he always treats me like a common flower girl, and always will. But I know that I shall always be a lady to Colonel Pickering, because he always treats me like a lady, and always will.

Eliza insists that she has become the woman she is because the Colonel sees her and treats her as a lady. She lives differently because of how she is seen by Pickering.

I wouldn’t suggest that Gospel-transformation comes only because someone thinks well of us. But there is a picture here of how Jesus does undertake to change us. Paul is the one who puts words to it for me.

I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has strengthened me, because he considered me faithful, putting me into service, even though I was formerly a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent aggressor . . . and the grace of our Lord was more than abundant, with the faith and love which are found in Christ Jesus. (1 Timothy 1:12-14)

Paul speaks of Jesus’ “considering [him] faithful,” offering this as the basis for Jesus’ putting him into service. Before this former blasphemer and persecutor and violent aggressor had done a thing, before he had proclaimed the Gospel in word and deed, before he had done anything to demonstrate faithfulness, Jesus considered him faithful. Paul was viewed as “faithful” because of grace. He was reckoned faithful, not on the basis of what he had done but on the basis of what Jesus intended to do in him.

Eliza grew into the lady that Pickering saw her to be. Holding on to what she saw reflected in the way he treated her, she was transformed. Paul grew into the amazing and faithful apostle to the Gentiles that Jesus saw him to be. Leaning into the grace that came to him from Jesus, he was transformed.

Jesus picks a handful of scruffy men and calls them to become fishers of men. He sees them as something that they were not yet, and seeing them that way and pouring out grace upon grace, they end up becoming those disciples he saw them to be in the start.

I wonder what would happen if followers of Jesus saw themselves as Jesus saw them. I wonder how differently we would live if we lived in light of Jesus’ grace-based, Gospel-rooted “consideration” of us rather than living under the view of ourselves that has been shaped by our failures, our past, our weaknesses, and the world.

Jesus treats us as “saints,” as his beloved followers and friends, because that is how he sees us. That is the trajectory of his Gospel-based transformation plan for us. And it might just change the way we live as his followers if we saw that more clearly.

It Shouldn’t Be A Secret

Nicodemus recognized it about Jesus. When speaking with him, Nicodemus noted that there was something “more than human” about him (John 3:2). A Gentile named Cornelius recognized it about Jesus. When Peter was speaking to him he noted that even Cornelius knew that “God was with Jesus” and that Jesus had been “anointed with the Spirit” (Acts 10:38).

In the book of Acts we meet people like Stephen and Philipp, Peter and Paul, and it is clear that there is something really different about them. And others recognize it. There is something “more than human” about these Christians. Their lives and how they live and what they do cannot be explained merely in human terms . . . similar to what we see about Jesus.

How do we make sense of this? What does it mean? It seems to me that Paul, in his letter to the Colossians, helps me understand this. He writes:

I was made a minister according to the stewardship from God bestowed on me for your benefit, so that I might fully carry out the preaching of the word of God, that is, the mystery which has been hidden from the past ages and generations, but has now been manifested to His saints, to whom God willed to make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. (Colossians 1:25-27)

When Paul talks about a “mystery” he is not referring to some secret unknown but to a select few. What he is referring to is something that, at some time in the past, was not fully known but that now, in and through the preaching of the Gospel, this previously unknown truth has come to light. It’s not a secret, but a revealed truth.

And what is this truth? There is much we could unpack in these words from Paul, but at the heart of it is a simple statement with profound implications: “Christ in you.”

When people talk about their relationship with Jesus, it can sound like they think of it as “adopting new rules for life,” or perhaps “trying to act like Jesus,” or maybe “learning to do life differently.” It’s not that such thoughts are wrong, they are just insufficient . . . they don’t capture the fullness of what Paul is talking about here.

Coming into a trusting relationship with Jesus is not primarily about having your “outsides” cleaned up. It is about something happening on the inside. And it’s not merely about having some internal wiring reworked so that you think differently about life. It’s really about an invasion of sorts.

Because of what Jesus accomplished on the cross, the condition of a the soul of a believer gets changed. And that change results in Jesus himself setting up home in that soul. He is now there . . . in you.

In the Old Testament we read about Moses’ encounter with God (Exodus 3). It happened when Moses came upon a bush that was on fire but not consumed by the fire. And a voice came out of the bush. God spoke to Moses. And Moses must have rightly concluded that this was no ordinary bush. There is something “in there”–it’s more than “mere bush.” And what was in that bush was pressing out through the bush. I became clear that God was present and active.

It seems to me that this pictures Paul’s idea about the “Christian life.” It’s not about trimming the bush, changing its shape, providing better fertilizer for it . . . it’s about the bush being inhabited by the living Jesus and because of that, the bush being ablaze with the presence and glory of God.

Jesus has taken up his residence in the souls of all who believe. And he desires to make his own life and presence and power evident through our lives. That shouldn’t be a secret any longer.

What I Really Need

So often it seems that my praying is light weight, “fluffy,” unsubstantial. It’s not that I don’t pray about the things that really have an impact on me . . . of course those are the things I talk to God about. But when it comes to really leaning into God’s grace and goodness, asking Jesus to do something–the kinds of things he alone can do–it seems like my praying can end up being somewhat superficial.

You know, prayers like . . .

“God, please be with Joe.”

“Lord, please help Joanne.”

“Jesus, please remember the trouble that Patty is facing.”

“Father, please be close to me in this trouble I am dealing with.”

It isn’t that such prayers are bad or theologically off base. It’s just that they are . . . well, shallow.

I was listening to the apostle Paul pray, reading his words in his letter to the Colossians. One of the things he asked God to do, in particular, caught my attention. Telling the Colossians about how he has prayed for them, he writes about his longing for God to be at work in them so that they live well in God’s eyes. Then Paul says that he has asked God for them to be . . .

Strengthened with all power, according to His glorious might, for the attaining of all steadfastness and patience; joyously giving thanks to the Father. (Colossians 1: 11-12)

Now that is substantial, gutsy, meaningful, “fluff-less” kind of prayer.

The expression “strengthened with all power” is literally “empowered with all power.” The word Paul uses for “power” (in both places) refers to the inherent ability and strength that enables one to do something. When Paul then refers to “might,” he uses a different word. The idea there is more of one of strength and power displayed. And this empowerment he wants for the Colossians is to be “according to” God’s glorious might. That phrase means that Paul is asking for power for living that not only comes from God’s glorious might but corresponds to His might. Paul really wants life-altering power to flow in and through the Colossians life that corresponds to the glorious display of God’s own strength.

But what does Paul anticipate such power would be needed for? Leaping over tall buildings in a single bound? Running faster than a speeding train? No. All of this enablement Paul longs for them, asks for on their behalf, is so that they might attain “all steadfastness and patience” with the result that they would “joyously give thanks to the Father.” Not the kind of thing I normally pray for!

The two words–steadfastness and patience–are similar. They are even sometimes translated by the same English word; you could render the phrase “for the attaining of all patience and patience.” The first word is typically used to refer to patience with regards to circumstances or things and conveys the sense of “hanging in” when things are hard–the root word actually has the sense of “abiding under” something. This is the patience that does not lose heart under even the most difficult of challenges. The second word is more often used to refer to patience with regards to people and conveys the sense of continuing to abide with those who treat us wrongly and not retaliating or loosing one’s temper–the root word actually conveys something of the idea of being “long-fused” (think dynamite with an infinitely long fuse!). This is the patience that does not lose its temper or gives up on love even when greviously treated by another. And this “patience and patience” is lived out in joyful thankfulness before God for the kind of life we are being privileged to live.

That will take a work of God. That is, to live joyfully thankful, being patient and courageously steadfast in the face of unpleasant circumstances and being patient and lovingly tolerant even when treated poorly by others, is not something that will come to any of us “naturally.” Thus, Paul’s great prayer.

He prays for what I need. A rich infusion of God’s gracious and great power so that I will be able to live the kind of life that I only, at times, imagine . . . the kind of life I am coming to realize that I don’t often really pray for.

If There’s Power . . .

I can remember, more than once, waking up on a morning to the realization that the power was out. The alarm clock was not working, the lights wouldn’t come on. It was obvious, there was no power. So, we would muddle through the morning as best as we could without power, waiting and hoping for it to come on soon.

I wonder if followers of Jesus sometimes slip into that kind of thinking. (I know that at times I do!) I get up, head into the day, only to later realize that for some reason and in some sense I am not really operating with much power . . . I’m just kind of muddling through, managing as best as I can . . . in the dark, without light, without much heat, without power.

I believe it was D. L. Moody who was speaking about people coming into the church in his day who spoke of about this power. He could recall how you could rent building space for business and negotiate for a lease “with or without power”–that is, you could pay extra to have electricity made available or be content with candles and lanterns. And Moody said he thought we should ask something like that when people wanted to participate in the life of the community of faith. “Do you want to be a follower of Jesus with or without power?” And he observed that if someone were to say that they were content to be a follower of Jesus “without power,” it would serve the community of faith well to graciously say, “Thank you, but no. We already have plenty of people like that!”

Paul was a “with power” kind of guy. In writing to the Corinthians, he spoke of how he came among them, announcing the good news about who Jesus is and what he had accomplished in his dying and rising . . . and that he made that announcement “in a demonstration of the Spirit and power” (1 Corinthians 2:5).

Paul wasn’t speaking about a gratuitous show of supernatural power; he simply meant that the message about Jesus and the breaking in of the kingdom of God through him was coupled with some kind of manifestation of that power that provided credibility to the claim. In the proclamation of the Gospel we tell others that God has broken into our world in the person of Jesus to radically alter life and to draw us into a new kind of life that is distinctively different from mere “human life.” And that can sound like something “too good to be true.” Paul was simply explaining that the message was clearly not “too good to be true” and that was evident in the manifestation of power that came in the proclamation.

Paul wasn’t about to compromise the message; he was all about telling others about Jesus and his sacrifice. But seeing as the invitation extended was for people to put  faith in God–rest in him and rely on his present presence–the “demonstration” of power showed the reality of what was being declared.

I’m not sure all that this “demonstration” might include, but just listen to another passage where Paul speaks about it:

For I will not presume to speak of anything except what Christ has accomplished through me, resulting in the obedience of the Gentiles by word and deed, in the power of signs and wonders, in the power of the Spirit; so that from Jerusalem and round about as far as Illyricum I have fully preached the gospel of Christ. (Romans 15:18-19)

Paul seemed to think that the proclamation of the message was to be carried out “with power.”

Paul also understood that with the receiving of the message, there often came an experience of God’s power. Notice what he wrote to followers of Jesus in Galatia:

So then, does He who provides you with the Spirit and works miracles among you, do it by the works of the Law, or by hearing with faith? (Galatians 3:5)

Life with Jesus is a “with power” proposition. When someone comes to life in him, the Spirit takes up residence in the soul. And that Spirit longs to make himself known in and through every friend and follower of Jesus. And when he does, it would seem that there would be–as was the case with Paul–a demonstration of the Spirit and power in the sharing of the good news about Jesus.

I just wonder what that might look like . . . in my life . . . in your life.

If there’s power . . .