New Ways of Seeing Lead to New Ways of Being

In various ministry roles over the years, I’ve talked with a lot of people about their struggles to live the Christian life. In many cases, these are sincere believers trying to apply God’s Word to their lives and faithfully serve him, their families, their churches, their workplaces, and their communities well. In spite of their best intentions, they keep falling short. 

I can relate. All of us fall short of the ideal. We may be growing into the image of Christ, but we aren’t his identical twins yet. Not by a long shot. 

Yet there’s a difference between growing toward that image imperfectly and feeling mired in futility and frustration. And that’s where many earnest believers are stuck—if they haven’t given up yet. 

As we’ve talked, it usually becomes clear that the problem isn’t their knowledge of Scripture, their prayer life, or their level of commitment. It isn’t even what they believe. It’s how they believe, and whether or not their beliefs shape their vision. 

Most Christians are aware of the difference between mind beliefs and heart beliefs. We might know God protects and provides—theologically—but how do our hearts respond in a threatening situation or a financial crisis? If we’re praying to our Protector and Provider but bracing for disaster, there’s a disconnect between mind and heart. We know the truth without seeing it. 

Layers and Levels of Believing 
This dynamic plays out in myriad ways, with our deepest (and often unconscious) beliefs almost always overriding our surface beliefs, what we claim to be true. For example: 

• If we see ourselves as inevitable sinners, we’ll live out that vision no matter how much we believe (intellectually) in God’s power to transform us.
• If we see miraculous answers to prayer as rare or unlikely occurrences, we may pray for the impossible but won’t have the faith to receive it.
• If we see God as a firm disciplinarian whose love is expressed primarily in commands and correction, we’ll spiritually walk on eggshells. We’ll seek direction and hear only dictates.
• If our vision of guilt is bigger than our vision of grace, we won’t be able to come boldly to the throne of grace, no matter how much we preach a gospel of grace. We’ll always feel like intruders—and suspect others of intruding too.
• If we see being “used by God” as the ultimate purpose of our discipleship, we’ll inevitably slip into a performance mentality and find it difficult to sit with him in long hours of worship and fellowship simply for the sake of relationship.
• If it hasn’t thoroughly sunk in that we’re actually sons and daughters of God, we may fulfill our role as servants well, but we won’t live like we’re in the family. And we’ll likely be critical of those who do.

Our deeper vision profoundly shapes how we live, which is why centuries of law and prophets rarely changed hearts but a visual demonstration of God-in-the-flesh did. We don’t get a sense of our true identity, calling, and purpose on our own. The Spirit has to open our eyes to the reality of Jesus and his purposes and promises. 

For a great picture of how our vision shapes us, watch a young athlete step on the field with all the same mannerisms and swagger as his big-league hero. Has he diligently trained himself to dig in his cleats, cock his head, spit to the side, and stare down his opponent? No, he’s simply watched his role model often and is growing into that image. That’s how our discipleship is supposed to work. 

The Pattern of Paul 
Perhaps that’s why Paul’s letters usually begin with identity and beliefs, then move to practicalities. I’ve sat through many a sermon (and probably preached some myself) that reverse that order, or even worse, focus entirely on the practicalities without ever dealing with the identity and beliefs beneath them. But in most of Paul’s letters, he first addresses believers’ identity (holy, beloved, saints, the chosen and called) and how we think about and perceive ourselves before giving any instructions. 

• In Romans, we’re told to consider ourselves dead to sin and alive to God and to embrace our adoption as heirs long before we find instructions for the Christian life.
• In Ephesians, we’re called chosen and adopted, raised from sin and death to be seated in the heaven lies with Christ, well before we’re told to walk in a manner worthy of our calling.
• In Philippians, Paul repeatedly demonstrates what it looks like to think and live like Jesus and a citizen of heaven before he tells his readers to do the same.
• In Colossians, Paul describes and demonstrates the new self before he tells his readers to put it on.
• In 1 Thessalonians, Paul presents his ministry as pure, authentic, and pleasing to God before he instructs believers to live a life that is pure, authentic, and pleasing to God.

Paul’s messages to the Galatians and the Corinthians display less measured reactions (necessary for those situations), but in general, this is how Paul approached the Christian life. He led with the nature of God, the gospel of Jesus, our identity in Christ, and God’s big-picture purposes. Then, after casting that sweeping, empowering vision, he gave instructions on how to live. 

A Ministry of Vision 
I believe it is vital for us to cast a vision similar to Paul’s that helps people see God, themselves, other believers, nonbelievers, and the world differently. I came to that conclusion after years of “believing” without really seeing. 

I’ve known what it’s like to struggle with a lack of change. The discipleship model I grew up with had two basic components: know the Word and do the Word. Both are important, but they don’t give us a complete picture. This approach bypasses the heart and can turn Christianity into a matter of willpower. The result is often a church full of people who try to act the way Christians should act without really being who Christians should be. 

The goal of discipleship is not to act the part. It’s to live from an inner transformation. And I’m convinced that one of the most powerful keys to inner transformation is vision. 

Change comes from God’s Spirit, but it’s inspired by what we see (as virtually every sermon illustration assumes). The more we gaze at his glory, the more we’re transformed into it (2 Corinthians 3:18). The more the “eyes of our heart” are enlightened, the more we can know the hope of our calling, the riches of his inheritance, and his power toward those who believe (Ephesians 1:18-19). Vision leads to knowing—deep in the heart. We no longer act the part; we live it. It becomes our nature. 

My upcoming series of devotional commentaries—the “See Series”—is based on this premise that new ways of seeing lead to new ways of being. In place of “know and do,” I’ve found “see, be, and live” a much more powerful catalyst for change. We don’t need to strive for the new nature; we see what it looks like and start wearing it. We stop trying to become God’s sons and daughters and start living as his sons and daughters. We stop living for the gospel and start living from the gospel. We see what God has done and step into it. 

If a Spirit-inspired vision of truth is the fuel for living it out, then it stands to reason that cultivating that vision is a huge part of ministry. It’s one of the most powerful, life-changing things we can do.