Sometimes you’ll find what you’re waiting for
Was all along just waiting for you
To turn around and reconcile
And it may be broken down
All the bridges burned like an old ghost town
But this, my son, can be made new
– from “Morning Light” by Josh Garrells
from the album, Home
I find it helpful to think of spiritual formation like a house undergoing major renovation. If the sheer number of home improvement and DIY cable shows are any indicator, renovation seems to be a popular practice these days.
As most people know, before you can begin to spruce up your home, you must first tear everything old and ugly out of it. The old fixtures, the purposeless walls, the accumulated junk of a life lived according to the old reality – all of these are removed to make way for something better. Something new.
In last week’s post, I wrote about the role of repentance in both the season of Lent and the daily life of a follower of Jesus. The Greek word, metanoia, refers to a transformation of mind, not just behavior. It describes a drastic change in the way one appropriates reality itself. It is the moment in which the architect unfurls the blueprints he has drawn up for your house, revealing to you the specific ways he wants to use the available space, repurpose the core structures, and reclaim the original materials buried beneath years of strategically concealing decor.
When we recognize these blueprints to be the superior appropriation of our living spaces, we “repent” of our old ways of seeing and using our houses. We recognize the potential, as well as all the ways the old structure has gone wrong, or fallen into disrepair. Most importantly of all, we accept that redemption is possible.
But there is still work to do. Not the work of salvation – that happened the moment the architect sat down to craft his blueprints – but the work of renovation. And it is not easy work. There is much to tear out, strip away, disentangle, and remove. There is demolition and deep cleaning. Without these things, the architect’s vision can never be fully realized.
In using this metaphor to describe spiritual transformation, the first truth we must grasp is that conversion is the beginning of our souls’ renovation, not the end result. Perhaps you grew up in a faith tradition that put all its preaching and teaching stock into persuading people to “accept Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Savior,” (which is certainly a wonderful and virtuous pursuit), but then did little to help those newborn new creations learn how to live according to the greater reality of God’s kingdom.
That is ineffectual evangelism. We do not preach the gospel simply to coerce people into a decision, as if there is nothing more to salvation than getting a check by your name in the Book of Life. Rather, we teach people “to obey everything I have commanded you” (Matthew 28:20).
Conversion – from the Latin conversio – means “to be turned around.” Having perceived the better way that runs counter to our old paradigm of life, we begin to move in this different direction. Thus, the journey is only beginning.
The season of Lent can be a time for believers old and new to remember this. If it were possible to turn on a dime – to suddenly become humble, morally upright, self-sacrificing disciples of Jesus with one single decision – all we would need is Ash Wednesday, and only once in our lives. But, instead, we not only have an annual day of repentance, we also have the month and a half that proceeds from it. Lent is a season defined by daily, obedient practices that train us in the principles of God’s kingdom. It is the season of demolition and deep cleaning, of removing the detritus that so frequently prevents us from pursuing the Architect’s superior purpose for our lives.
You have work to do. This renovation isn’t a weekend project. It’s not a three-month restoration or even a full year’s undertaking. No, it is a life-long endeavor. But for those of us who will rise each day in the recognition that God’s mercy is abundant and sufficient every day, little by little we will see this house transformed. We will behold beauty overtaking the battered places. The weak spots will receive reinforcements. The cluttered and useless spaces will be clarified and remodeled.
We are made new not in a single moment, but over a lifetime.
One thought on “On Transformation (Lenten Reflections, Week 2)”
Amen. Nicely put!