Over the years, I’ve had friends say to me: you must like change, because it seems like things are always changing in your life. And it’s certainly true: my life is a rolling stone, no time for the moss to grow.

When I was younger, I thrived on change, growing a little antsy with too much routine. In the 24 years since I graduated from college, I’ve moved 19 times, lived in three different states, and worked in more than a dozen different jobs. In addition, growing up in a blended family and now having a stepfamily of my own, my life has always been impacted by the changing lives of my parents, stepparents, siblings, nieces, nephews, and now my husband and stepsons. I’ve learned to expect continuous adjustments in everything from our daily rituals to our holiday traditions.

As I grow older, I crave more stability, yet I still find life shifting and changing whether I want it to or not. In fact, it seems like the only thing that ever stays the same is how much everything is always changing. But with each new chapter, there’s something old and familiar about the movement and progression of life … something deep inside me that knows resisting would be futile. It’s almost as if I looked carefully enough, I could see the threads of change woven into the very fabric of the redemptive metanarrative of life.

Could it be that God made us for change?

Before sin ever entered the world, creation carried the imprint of change in its DNA. Water passed through the banks, the sun rose and fell, the plants grew, and the earth required cultivation. The animals were given names, a helper was created for man, and the man and woman came together to be fruitful and multiply. Before sin corrupted a single soul or a single cell, the earth and all that was in it was set in motion to grow and produce and change.

Of course when sin did enter the world, everything changed for the worse. All living things became corrupted, and death and destruction became the end toward which everything moves. But even then, God had an ultimate transformation in mind. Through Christ, all things would be changed again. Death would not have the final say. Everything would be made new.

Generations passed. God nearly destroyed the earth with water. And those who were left were scattered around the planet. The plan to transform the entire world from death back to life came down to one man and his family. To accomplish God’s purposes, Abram was asked to change everything: where he lived, how he took care of his family, what he believed, even what he was called. His name would now be Abraham. Through all these changes, God promised that He would create something brand new for Abraham and his family, but also for all the families of the world.

Ultimately, we see God’s plan for change fulfilled in Christ, through his death and resurrection. Paul says it like this: “Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed” (1 Cor. 15:51-52).

Change is rarely easy, and constant change can be overwhelming. Even to someone like me, who seems to thrive on new and different. But change is knit into our purpose; change is our destiny. Ultimately, we ourselves will be changed.

And it starts now.

Photo by Olga Filonenko on Unsplash.

How do you continue in faith when so much of life keeps changing? Our four-week series, Keeping the Faith, will explore how change and transformation play a critical role in the story of redemption. We’ll also look at the ways we respond to change in our lives and how they can either make or break our faith.

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