As I struggle with my own transformation (or lack of it),
I sometimes complain about the lack of change in me. I keep fighting the same
battles over and over. Will I ever be rid of this bad attitude or that foolish
habit? Yet God says He has made me a new creature and the old me is out of the
picture. (Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has
passed away; behold, the new has come. 2 Corinthians 5:17)
I’m supposed to believe Him and trust His Word, not
continually evaluate myself and my lack of progress, but that also is
difficult. However, I’m encouraged by the life and experiences of the Apostle Paul.
Once he was bent on putting Christians in prison, even killing them. Then Jesus
encountered him and transformed his life. Instead of persecuting God’s people,
he began preaching and promoting Jesus Christ, becoming the champion of the
early church. He said,
I thank him who has given me strength, Christ Jesus our Lord, because he judged me faithful, appointing me to his service, though formerly I was a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent. But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. (1 Timothy 1:12–14)
Faith in Christ produced the change, or rather, because
of faith in Christ and in mercy, God changed this man. People cannot change
themselves. I try, but with dismal results that do not last. For Paul and for
me, part of the key to change is the opposite of what modern methods tell
people to do. The world says to fix on a goal and go for it; think of yourself
as a success and you will become one.
Not so with God. He always works in ways that are
opposite and contrary to the way of our puny brains. We assume we can change by
trying harder. While God does not ask us to be couch potatoes, as Paul explains,
change comes when we rely on Christ and admit that we cannot do it. In fact, Paul
admitted this to the extreme.
The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life. To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen. (1 Timothy 1:15–17)
If anyone calls themselves the chief of sinners, our
first thought might be that this person has no self-esteem and never will
become anything of value. Yet Paul’s honest statement about who he was and is gives
an open door for God to step in and do the transformation process. God’s way of
blessing us is by mercy alone, implying we do not deserve it. He never changes
our lives based on our merit.
Much of the preaching in this continent is about
self-effort. We are told we must do this and that, and God will bless us. That
kind of exhortation twists faith from a focus on the Savior who changes lives,
to ourselves — who cannot do anything apart from Christ. Then in despair, we
give up, say “people never change” and become satisfied (actually dissatisfied)
with the status quo.
Paul thought of himself as foremost of sinners. The Christian
world thinks of him as a mighty warrior, a hero of the faith. God filled this
mere man with the Holy Spirit and used him to build His church. He was no
longer that one who hated and persecuted His people.
The biggest problem in my ineptitude to change is my
opinion of myself. Instead of a prideful attitude that I should be a better
person, I need to recognize the depth of my sinfulness. As today’s devotional reading
says (referring to 1 Timothy 1:15 and 17), “Only those who have struck the
deepest note of penitence can reach the highest note of praise.”
God, I know a little about how this works. The closer one
gets to You and to being like You, the more one becomes aware of their own
sinfulness. This is a characteristic and the paradox of Your transforming work.
Others might see the changes in me, but I feel as if I am still at the bottom
or worse. If I keep my eyes on You, You change me. if I put my eyes on myself
and began to measure my progress, I stop changing. Faith is walking in that
dichotomy, trusting You to make something of this sinner. Keep me there. It is odd
and uncomfortable, but the right place to be.
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