Transformation: A Life of Practices

How Does Transformation Happen?

The goal of life following Jesus is to be transformed into his image—that is, to become like him.  Paul makes this abundantly clear.  He tells us that as we see God, we are changed “into his glorious image.”[1]  Elsewhere, he says that what matters is “becoming a new creation.”[2]  And though we are re-born when we receive Jesus, the process of transformation through the Spirit of Jesus is ongoing.[3]  We receive Jesus and are saved by him, and we continue to “work out” our salvation as we follow him. 

But how does it happen?  How does transformation make us new from within? 

How, for example, does someone move away from chronic impatience, anger, or rage into a habitual posture of peace?  How does someone step out of lust or pornography and into freedom in their thought and sex life?  How does someone go from thinking that spirituality is “all about me” to a bigger story of wholeness in God and participating with God in loving others?

Where I grew up, in Alabama, you could go to a Chik-Fil-A on most mornings and find groups of men gathered around Bibles, talking about scripture.  I was part of several such groups myself.  The assumption was that if we read scripture and talked about it, we would be transformed.

I love scripture and I’m all for reading and talking about it together.  But will this transform us?  Maybe yes, maybe no.  Some people read scripture just to get more information in their heads, but it doesn’t cause their hearts to become more open before God or anyone else.  In fact, we can actually talk about scripture as a way of avoiding transformation.  And there are many people who use scripture to justify choices that have nothing to do with the Spirit of Jesus.  To put it bluntly, there are many untransformed people who know the scripture quite well but are still jerks.

Sometimes, it turns out, our assumptions about how transformation happens are false.  It’s a huge assumption in our society, for example, that Information = Transformation.  We believe that if we ready enough books or attend enough conferences or listen to enough sermons, we’ll be transformed.  But is this true?  Information is great, but it’s clear that, in and of itself, it doesn’t necessarily transform us.  In fact, it can make us arrogant!  As Paul says, “knowledge puffs up.”[4]  Jesus made it clear that the appearance of outward transformation or a head full of knowledge without transformation of the heart is of little interest to him and, in fact, can lead us into hell.[5]

When we study Jesus’ ministry, we see that his methodology for disciple-making was just as potent as his message, and it had little to do with memorizing doctrine or even sitting around reading scripture.  Jesus made it clear that transformation happens as we engage tangible spiritual practices that make us aware of and ultimately open to God in entirely new ways.  Spiritual practices are things we practice, like Jesus did, in order to bring us into a transforming encounter with the nearness and goodness of God, that we might be empowered to love, know, and serve others as Jesus did.  And spiritual practices can become life habits which ultimately, can become our normal way of being before God and in the world.

An image comes to mind: my 6-year-old self in the backyard.  My dad throwing baseballs in front of my bat.  Me, swinging…and whiffing, a lot of the time.  At first, anyway.  But then, a crack!  Contact.  The ball goes flying, hard even, into a practice net.  Homerun, no doubt.  Two-bases, at the very least.  My dad nods and says, under his breath, “Practice, practice, practice.”  And over time, I make more and more contact until my practice swing becomes an ingrained habit. Ultimately, I can step into the batter’s box without having to think about my posture or how to grip the bat.  I can just focus on keeping my eyes on the ball and making solid contact. 

Spiritual practices are similar; they allow us to engage life from a habitual posture, one of openness before God that is full of spiritual power.  Through solitude and silence and rest, through scripture reading and listening prayer, through choosing forgiveness and giving thanks in all things, through arranging my life to know and love others, and through so many other disciplines, we practice becoming open to God and His work in and through us. 

[1] 2 Corinthians 3:18; cf. also 1 John 3:2

[2] Galatians 6:15

[3] Cf. Romans 10:9-10 and Philippians 2:12

[4] I Corinthians 8:1

[5] See, for example, Matthew 23:26

Transformation: A Life of Paradox

The Scripture is constantly calling us to hold both-ands, because it gets us outside the belief that we can have everything figured out and be a host unto ourselves.  Holding Both-Ands means holding tension which means being dependent on God.  It is one of the way that Scripture humbles us so that we can become open to God. 

The Scriptures (not to mention Christianity itself) are filled with paradoxes.  Consider this one:

Proverbs 26:4 tells us, “Don’t answer a fool according to his folly.”  Then in the next verse, we are told, “Answer a fool according to his folly!”

Which is true?  Well, context determines it, and that’s just the point: only wisdom can discern when to answer and when to be quiet.  This requires navigating tension and an ability to read the context of a situation, which also means being dependent on the leading of the Holy Spirit.  In other words, the Scripture invites us into maturity without saying so in so many words. 

Many of us would simply like a how-to manual that would tell us exactly what to do in every situation (and many have tried to turn the Bible itself, which is full of stories of people figuring out how to navigate tension, with God’s help, into just such a manual!).  It’s easier to give laws and rules than to ask people to navigate tension or become truly dependent on God, but that’s exactly what we get from Scripture, because God is out for real relationship. 

Consider another paradox:

Jesus says that if you deny him, you will have no part with him (John 13:8), and yet Peter denies Jesus, and Jesus restores him (John 21)!

Jesus’ statements are true statements, but only in context do they paint the entire picture.  We can’t understand them apart from understanding the whole truth of God’s restoring heart of grace revealed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.  What we end up with is the reality that we actually need God Himself, and not just rules imported from the Bible or a series of platitudes or aphorisms, and certainly not certainty masquerading as faith.  Real faith demands a humble posture of trust, not a rigid fear-driven mentality of “I have all the answers,” which is what we find so often in fundamentalism on either side, either conservative or liberal.  

Scripture thus calls us into a posture of humility and trust, which proves to be at the heart of faith.  When we can live in paradox and tension, we are freed to finally fix our focus on God, who is The Answer, even when the answers are not so  clear. 

Transformation: A Life in the Mature Middle (Moralism and Hedonism)

Life is about navigating Both-Ands, which creates a balanced path for our feet.  It’s the only path to sanity, let alone happiness.  It’s also what scripture calls us into to learn the posture by which we can fully experience God and His goodness.  And it’s the only way we come into maturity as human beings.

For example: we are called to enjoy the pleasures of life and also to avoid over-indulging.  If you fall too far on either side, you’ll become a dour-faced prude or a wild hedonist.  Moralism on one hand or hedonism on the other, that’s the pattern, which is why, no doubt, Jesus gives us an enduring story about two sons, the younger of which turns hedonist, focused on illicit pleasure, while the older remains a staunch moralist, focused on playing by the rules and getting everything right.[1]  Each extreme, moralism or hedonism, provides the sense of control which our ego desperately craves—control through either the power of certainty/being right or through being able to drown out, even temporarily, our sorrows.  Each is its own sort of “high,” its own type of transcendence.  Rather than bouncing back and forth from one to the other, we are called to turn from both and learn to live in a new place altogether.  This turns out to take quite a bit of work and a tremendous development of character!

Of course, neither son (at the beginning, at least) has much character, nor do they "get it."  They don’t know how to actually be with their father in the radical middle where he dwells.  What do they need to learn?  That their father is not some prudish fuddy-duddy under whose nose they have to sneak fun, nor some angry judge demanding that they get everything right.  Further, that pleasure is both gift and responsibility, not an illicit treat to be stolen but rather a gift to be enjoyed with responsibility.  And that obedience to conscience and what’s right is not some heavy yoke to be born with resentment, but rather a pleasure in and of itself.  All of this they are blind to, living in the extremes of hedonism and moralism far from the radical middle, where maturity dwells.

The parable is for us, for we are like the sons, of course.  The goal of life is to see and know Who God is and to live fearlessly from that reality.  But God dwells in the radical middle (remember, He is three and one, All-powerful and All-vulnerable, human and divine, and on and on) and if we aren’t trained to live there with Him, we may—like these sons—be discontent with how seldom we experience the fullness of God…even though He is quite near to us!

What then, do we need to learn?  That while God is Judge, he is also Compassionate Servant.[2]  That while God is All-Powerful, He’s also All-Vulnerable.[3]   When we see Who God is, we are always freed to live in a new way, with great joy.  And, thankfully, we can actually train ourselves to see God by learning to embrace the Both-Ands all around us. 

Life, after all, is usually a balance between two extremes, a middle bridged together by a Both-And.  Relationships need order and spontaneity.  Children need structure and flexibility.  Most everything in life has such a corollary.  If you are too lax or too tight, life doesn’t work.  A healthy work life means diligent focus and committed rest.  A healthy soul means both diligent self-reflection and carefree self-forgetfulness.  Life is about constant course corrections between these tensions!  By embracing these Both-Ands, we train and prepare our minds to see God whose Spirit dwells right there amidst these tensions, in the place of maturity and freedom.  And we learn to live not under a rulebook but in real relationship, which is what God was after all along.  

If we have eyes to see the Father who runs to His children—the glorious revelation of Jesus’ parable--even when they can't seem to get everything (or anything) right, our hearts will naturally be transformed.  It's always simply seeing God and experiencing His love which transforms us, and as we embrace Both-Ands, we will learn to see Him more and more clearly.  Ultimately, with those ancient sons, this is all any of us modern day moralists or hedonists need to see!

[1] See Luke 15:11-32

[2] Philippians 2:5-11 captures this Both-And beautifully

[3] See Romans 8 for a picture of the God who suffers and labors with us