Observance

When we look at other living things, we expect that they will grow and change over time. No one assumes that a seedling will stay small and fragile — we know that it is destined to grow into a strong and mighty tree. When we see a calf or a cub, we also see its potential to become a full-grown animal.

And yet, too often, we don’t see the same potential for growth in ourselves. We tend to think that the person we have been in the past, or even the person we are right now, is the person we will always be. A Harvard psychologist refers to this as the “end of history illusion”—the assumption that the “real” you is the present you, no matter how far you’ve come and how far you could still go. “Human beings,” he explains, “are works in progress that mistakenly think they’re finished.” (Daniel Gilbert, in Benjamin Hardy, “Take Ownership of Your Future Self,” Harvard Business Review, Aug. 28, 2020)

Here is a marvelous metaphor, and I wished I had written it. It is a quote from C.S. Lewis:

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that these jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But, presently, he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts severely and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers. Making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage; but He is building a palace.” (C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity)

Insight

Isn’t that marvelous? Sometimes remodeling crews show up uninvited. We may say to them, “Look, I will get around to that, but I want to wait until next year.” No way. Here it comes. The defining moment comes to see if we have enough courage for a rebuild. The defining moment comes to see if we are submissive.

Because we are children of an eternal God, we have eternal capacity to improve. But it doesn’t just happen. Just as the seedling doesn’t grow without plenty of nourishment, we are more likely to progress if we are intentional about progressing. In fact, one important difference between us and the seedling is that we have a degree of choice about the direction of our growth. If, in the past, we’ve been too quick to anger, too self-centered, we can change that. If we wish we could become a little kinder, a little more loving, we can do it!

One starting point is to believe that we can—to be open to positive change, to welcome it, even seek for it. Instead of labeling ourselves by our past mistakes and weaknesses, we envision our better selves and then work to make it a reality. As with all remodeling it is messy; it is costly; and it takes longer than we thought it would take. 

One woman, for example, always got lost easily. She would tell people, “I’m bad at directions.” But then she decided that she wanted to change that. So she worked at reading and following maps, memorizing street names, and noticing landmarks. She continued to get off track, having to ask for help, but with determination and consistent effort in time, she became more proficient and even confident at finding her way.

Our loving Heavenly Father sees us for who we have the potential to become. And He wants us to see what He sees. Rather than defining ourselves by who we have always been, we can begin to become who God wants us to be.

Not long ago, a man ran into an old high school friend, one he had not seen for many decades. He remembered his classmate as a reckless teenager, but he was now well into his 60s, and he was noticeably different: certainly more responsible and mature, but also kinder and more caring. What a pleasure it was to get reacquainted with this new version of his long-lost friend. He couldn’t help but ponder what experiences must have influenced him over those many years. 

Then he had a more sobering thought: Have I changed too? How have my experiences shaped and molded me? Do my friends see in me a gentler, more compassionate person? Or do they see the same immature youth I once was?

Life is all about growth. Our physical growth is most obvious, but we also grow in other ways that are more meaningful. And yet we sometimes struggle to let other people grow too. It’s as if we have already written their life stories — in permanent ink! Maybe it’s our way of simplifying our complex world. But can’t people change? If someone was wild and wayward years ago, can he mature and straighten out his life? If someone was careless and conceited in the past, can her heart be humbled and softened?

We had better hope the answer is yes, because each of us has something to change. And if we hope others will allow us to grow and improve, we must allow them to do the same. Life is not about holding on tightly to what we’re familiar with, to what we think we know. It’s about learning and progressing and becoming better versions of ourselves with every passing day.

A remodel is happening to us every day … a cottage or a mansion? You decide.

Southern Standard contributor Cordell Crawford can be contacted at crawfordcordell@yahoo.com.