SpaceX, the aerospace pioneer, went public last week, raising tens of billions of dollars through its initial public offering (IPO). Its progenitor, Elon Musk, redefines innovation, having founded Tesla, the electric car company, while, “Oh, by the way,” pioneering reusable rockets in his spare time. He envisions orbiting AI data centers, a city on Mars, and who knows what else this ideator-extraordinaire may have dreamed up while shaving this morning. Yet everything man explores, God has made, for “It is the glory of God to conceal things, but the glory of [man] is to search things out.”1 We dispatch our exploratory rovers to “the red planet”; yet it is “[God] who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning and darkens the day into night.”2
Then as man looks to the heavens to search out what God has established, God in His heavens pursues His vision for us, His beloved on Earth: to make us ever more like His Son, through whom “all things were made.”3 God’s pursuit of our transformation into Jesus’ image is firmly established from beginning to end. His plan is purposed from the past: “For those whom [God] foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son.”4 He pursues His vision in the present: “We . . . are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.”5 And this He promises for the future: “When [Christ] appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.”6 God’s vision is clear, His sights are set, and our transformation is certain.
Then what must we do? First, trust and know this: “God . . . works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”7 It is a lifelong process. Even if we don’t see transformation right away or at the pace we’d prefer, the fact remains, God is at work in us. Then in the confidence of His faithfulness, we rest and rejoice—rest in the fact that God is doing in us what we cannot do ourselves, and rejoice in our transformation, God’s ongoing expression of love for us. This is His vision; this is our life. So good.
“May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. . . The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:23-24 ESV
Father, thank you for your eternal wisdom and purpose. Thank you for raising us to ever-increasing glory, the image of your Son. Inspire us to trust, rest, rejoice and thrive in such amazing grace. In Christ we pray. Amen.
1 Proverbs 25:2 ESV
2 Amos 5:8 ESV
3 John 1:3 NIV
4 Romans 8:29 ESV
5 2 Corinthians 3:18 NIV
6 1 John 3:2 ESV
7 Philippians 2:13 ESV
Over the past decade or so, friends have generously offered us the use of their Lake Michigan cottage. Peggy and I have toured many countries over the years, and I would include this stretch of Great Lakes shoreline among the most beautiful of destinations. White sands, relentless waves—sometimes lapping, sometimes crashing—blue skies and blue waters in relentless rendezvous on the horizon. It never changes, never grows old. Always restful, always rejuvenating. We return there from time to time for respite. In a similar way, this blog space occasionally revisits the wonder of transformation, specifically our ongoing metamorphosis into the likeness of Christ Jesus. This is God’s preordained plan for us and the Spirit’s beautifying work in us. So, let’s return again for respite.
We start here: the Scriptural promise of inner change. Paul writes, “We all . . . are being transformed into [Jesus’] image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.”1 How refreshing; such peace. Yet here we pause already to ask this question: If mankind is created in God’s image, as clearly established in Genesis,2 why must we be transformed into His image? On the surface, it seems redundant, and confusing besides. Here is the missing piece that makes our scenario less puzzling: Though we were made in God’s image, we eventually chose unbelief and disobedience, the aftermath of which “cataclysmic” cannot begin to describe. “When Adam sinned, sin entered the world. . . Death spread to everyone, for everyone sinned.”3 And so says Paul, “we have borne the image of the man of dust.”4 This is to say, though we were made in God’s image, all of mankind has yet carried and reflected the sinful likeness—the soiled image—of Adam. It is necessary, therefore, that that we be “conformed to the image of [God’s] Son.”5 Only God can do this, and this God is doing. Praise His name.
Sometimes we seek to justify or minimize our sinful nature in its various forms and desires by claiming to be made in God’s image—and therefore justified in our flaws—or born in sin and therefore without hope or expectation. Neither is ultimately true, for God is “[working] in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever.”6 He is at work, transforming us from the dusty image of Adam into the glorious image of Christ.
So think for a moment and throughout the day: In what ways has the indwelling Spirit of God transformed you already? Do you sense Him transforming you even more ways, new ways? He is faithful.
Father, thank you for loving us so much that you steadily transform us, your church, into the image of Christ Jesus, your Son. May your Spirit have your way in us. Great is your faithfulness. In Christ I pray. Amen.
1 2 Corinthians 3:18 NIV
2 See Genesis 1:26-27 ESV
3 Romans 5:12 NLT
4 1 Corinthians 15:49 ESV
5 Romans 8:29 ESV
6 Hebrews 13:21 NIV
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Jesus Our Brother and Closer Still
Aware of my involvement with Kairos Prison Ministry, a dear friend recently asked me, “When you visit people in prison, how do you think of them? Do you see them differently from your friends or neighbors?” These were great questions, so for today’s post I thought I’d flesh out my response.
My view on crime has not changed. Society needs accountability and rightfully demands justice for the wrongs perpetrated within it. We know this; we all clamor for justice in its various forms. Moreover, society needs to be protected from those who have demonstrated their willingness to harm its people one way or another. And conversely, malefactors need protection from those who would otherwise take vigilante vengeance and perhaps to a disproportionate extreme, i.e., an eye for a tooth. But what has changed is this: I no longer categorize offenders as refuse to be wadded up and discarded into dumpsters like yesterday’s news. They are instead individuals, each with his own life story, each surviving or trying to survive, and each precious to God. How precious? Let’s look.
Shortly before His betrayal and arrest, Jesus spoke of a future judgment when commended are those who have shown proactive love toward the hungry, thirsty, strangers, unclothed, sick, or imprisoned—or in His words, “the least of these my brothers.”1 If Jesus claims the least among us as His brothers,” how can we categorically belittle or dismiss them? Why even would we want to? If anything, we might do well to look inwardly and spend some time praying about our own heart.
Yet to these least among us Jesus draws even one step closer than “brother,” for what we’ve done for one of the least of these, we, in His words, “did to me.”2 Notice He did not say we did it “as if to me,” rather, “to me.” This is the intimacy of identity and oneness with believers: Christ in us and us in Christ.
So do I see people in prison differently from my friends or neighbors? No, many are my friends and, in a sense, all are my neighbors. In fact, some of my closest friends live this life in lockup, yet in their words, “free on the inside.” And how do I think of these people in prison? I must think of them as Jesus does—His brothers, and closer still.
Father, we confess that, though you have shown us much love, forgiveness and grace, we sometimes fail to extend these to others. May we know your love so intimately that we freely, eagerly and joyfully share it with those in our midst. In Christ we pray. Amen.
1, 2 Matthew 25:40 ESV
Paul Nordman—Author 