What can make me change?

Simon Gibson

A number of years ago, when my wife and I were recently married, we travelled to Vancouver Island in my V8 Buick to visit my parents. In those days, I was a speeder, and a joyous one at that. My wife, who was considerably more shy than she is today, never mentioned what she would later admit, that she was often concerned about my driving.

I remember that day so well. We were proceeding north, having just come off the ferry at Nanaimo, B.C. I was speeding as usual. Quite suddenly, we arrived at the scene of one of the worst motor vehicle accidents in Vancouver Island's history. A truck and a bus had collided and, as I recall, a dozen people had been killed; others had been injured, some seriously. Police were directing traffic, and as we passed, we could see some of the bodies lined up in a row, covered with white sheets.

Yes, I slowed down. But not for long. In a matter of what was probably no more than 15 minutes, I was back to my familiar driving "style". It was not until much later, upon reflection, that I realized that the scare of the accident, the bodies and the tangled vehicles, had had absolutely no impact on my driving, which even then I would likely have acknowledged as being potentially dangerous.

So, what causes us to want to change? What causes us to abandon what we would regard as destructive, selfish behaviour? What is the spark that ignites the flame of personal transformation? Is there, in fact, some common thread that unites people who successfully make effective--and enduring--changes in their lives?

The need for change

We all have areas in our life we want to change. Some of these may be relatively minor: watching less television, eating fewer desserts, getting more rest. Others, which may not always be that visible to those around us, are more significant--areas such as getting rid of a secret habit, developing the "spiritual" aspect of our life, refining our character or personality or discovering our personal goals.

When it comes to personal change, the Bible, the book which Christians believe contains truth revealed by God Himself, provides much encouragement. For example, the Bible says that God's power provides what is lacking and works most effectively through our weakness (II Corinthians 12:9). But can this be understood as God giving us the will to change? Good can successfully overcome evil, but what if we have difficulty wanting good to overcome evil in our˙20lives? To put it crudely, what if part of us wants to change and part of us is not willing to change?

In the Bible, a man named Paul speaks of this internal torment when he acknowledges, "when I want to do good, evil is right there with me." He calls himself a "wretched man" and asks, "Who will rescue me?" He then gives the answer: Thank God! Jesus Christ can rescue him (Romans 7:21-24).

If you've suffered through a diet, you'll probably relate, in some small way, to Paul's anguish. You make the decision--initially resolute--to limit your calorie intake over a particular time period, or to achieve a certain weight. But, as the weeks progress, your determination becomes less assured; you "sneak" a snack and, for dinner, choose a blob of sour cream instead of yogurt on your tiny baked potato. If you're the cook at your house, you find yourself becoming intrigued with the potential saltiness of the meal: Numerous tastings, you rationalize, are the only way to satisfy your curiosity.

The beginning of change

As mature adults, we generally know how to look and act; we increasingly become skilled at fulfilling our role in life. But often it can be just that: a part, a role, something quite superficial. We know in our hearts that we need to change some aspect of our life, but on the outside it's business as usual. Perhaps that's part of the challenge of desiring significant transformation. Paul, in contrast, was candid: In his letter, recorded in the Bible, he told the church in Rome that he struggled, that he was wretched. Paul was honest with himself.

Real personal change may require something uncomfortable, even revolutionary: an admission, an acknowledgement of a need. As a male, I know this can often be a challenge, in particular, for men, who have mastered that air of independence, that look of authoritative self-reliance. In many cases, such independence is a cosmetic veneer of denial. And denial--or its rejection--is where change may begin.

Denial, clearly, is the enemy of change. Indeed, organizations such as Alcoholics Anonymous begin their programs with the specific requirement that members admit to their powerlessness over liquor. This is followed by steps which confess a need for God and make a request for Him to take away the addiction. Surely there can be few more vivid changes than an alcoholic who renounces his addiction.

Whatever the need, whatever the consuming problem, the Bible says we can do a anything through Jesus Christ, who gives us strength (Philippians 4:13). But we must let Him; we must confess that need.

An openness to personal change, therefore, gets at the very source of the problem. If it is a secret habit, say reading pornography, then denial can be found as soon as the mind says, "Hmm. Maybe I'll buy that magazine (or go to the video store)." At that point, a refusal to obey the desire for pornography or whatever is a distinct option; however, once this threshold is passed, then, like dominoes, the steps to yield to the habit fall into place.

Suppose we surprised a committed dieter in the middle of consuming a furtive triple decker sandwich. If he or she responded defensively, "I just happened to be in the kitchen, the next thing I knew I had the refrigerator door open, and all of a sudden I was taking out cold cuts and cheese." I suspect we wouldn't be terribly sympathetic; in fact, we might even say to the dieter, "Why did you come into the kitchen in the first place? You knew where temptation was to be found--why come in here?"

The power of a relationship

One could hardly contend that change is a simple matter. In the case of our dieting friend, there can certainly be a terrible struggle. The more that food cannot be enjoyed, the more it is desired. Dieting becomes an exercise in daily torment.

In the case of something more significant, the struggle can be even harder. In such cases, the Bible reminds us that the struggle is not so much against the visible, but against invisible powers of evil (Ephesians 6:12). Our only hope is being committed to someone more powerful than evil, having a personal relationship with God Himself. If we pray and seek His strength, then we can be transformed.

I strongly believe that if we fully confess our need of God, He will meet our needs and keep His promise to transform us. There is no time like the present to begin this wonderful personal transformation!

I began by confessing my affection for speeding as a young man. Perhaps you wonder if I ever overcame this hazardous habit. Shortly after our first daughter was born, some 17 years ago, I found that I was driving with considerable care, especially when she was with us, comfortably nestled in the car seat. I realized that it would be inconsiderate and selfish to injure either one of us. My denial of speeding as a dangerous habit gave way to the realization that, as a father and husband, I was now responsible for others. I changed, and even though I still enjoy the purr of a well-tuned V8, I have slowed down considerably!

Simon Gibson and his family live in Abbotsford, B.C. where he serves as a city councillor and they attend Northview Community Church.

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