A knot in her stomach, Debra piloted her minivan into the driveway. She knew what awaited her inside: sullen, resentful children and a critical husband. Barry and the kids weren’t bad people—but no one in the family was getting along these days.
Yet much of the blame rested on her shoulders, Debra thought. She hadn’t been much of a wife and mother lately. Tired and depressed, she had to force herself out of bed in the morning to get ready for work and to fix breakfast for Barry and the kids. In her most dejected moments, she had even thought, “What’s the use of going on?”
Reaching out for help, Debra poured out her story to Sharon, the wife of an elder at their church and known for her piety. “The worst part,” Debra concluded, “is that I just don’t feel like being the positive one in the family anymore. I can’t pull it off.”
The older woman nodded her head sympathetically. “Debra, your negative feelings are coming from a lack of caring acts. Emotions always follow behavior.”
“But what can I do?” Debra asked.
“Reverse the process. If you act loving, you’ll feel loving. So act more loving toward Barry. Do special things for the kids. Do one helpful act for each person every day. Smile more. You’ll be amazed at the changes in your heart. The Bible says we’re to ‘put on the new self’—and that means to behave like a loving Christian. Then you’ll feel like a loving Christian.”
It seemed dishonest to Debra to act differently than she felt, but she was desperate. So that night she walked into the family room of their home, saw Barry sitting in his easy chair, took a deep breath, and told herself to apply Sharon’s words. “Hi, honey!” she said cheerfully. “I’m making pepper steak for you and the kids tonight.”
Barry and the kids enjoyed both the dinner and Debra’s bright attitude. There was only one problem: Debra still felt depressed. She felt better for a few minutes after behaving lovingly, but that’s all.
“It’s like I’m falling down a deep tunnel into blackness,” she told me a few days later. “Every now and then I’ll do something positive, but it feels like I’m only digging my fingernails into the wall of the tunnel. My nails can only hold on so long.”
Many Christians seeking help are plagued by this third supposedly biblical idea that can make you crazy: “If I change my behavior, I will grow spiritually.“ This crazymaker says that behavior change is the key to spiritual and emotional growth. As Debra’s older friend put it, “The more we act right, the more we feel right.”
This teaching holds that our emotions will simply fall in line as we behave better and better. For example, to feel loving towards someone, act loving. To combat depression, act happy and think positive thoughts. To deal with angry feelings, behave kindly toward others. To overcome destructive habits (compulsive eating, substance abuse, money problems, sexual addictions), just say no to that piece of cake, the glass of wine, a new pair of jeans, that pornographic magazine.
This false assumption, taught widely among Christians, has been deeply influenced by the behavioral school of psychology, which believes that all that counts is actions. Over time, behaviorists say, behavior can change feelings.
Of course, there’s a grain of truth in this scriptural-sounding crazymaker. Aren’t we’re supposed to “spur one another on toward love and good deeds” (Heb. 10:24)? How can doing good deeds be a problem?
The problem is not doing good deeds, but the role doing those deeds plays in our spiritual and emotional growth.
Over and over again, the Scriptures point out that our actions are the result of spiritual change, not the cause of it. Good behavior is the cart, not the horse. Changes in behavior, such as becoming more loving or more responsible, indicate that God is doing an invisible, internal work of grace within us, transforming us to be more like him “with ever-increasing glory” (2 Cor. 3:18).
Look at all the ways that God wants to bear fruit in us: “The fruit of the Spirit is love” (Gal. 5:22); “the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth” (Eph. 5:9); “And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be … filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ” (Phil. 1:9–11). Paul asks God to fill the Colossians with the knowledge of God’s will so that they “may live a life worthy of the Lord and may please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God” (Col. 1:10). Positive behavior, whether it be defeating a compulsive eating disorder or working in a soup kitchen, comes from God’s work in our hearts.
In fact, the Bible sees destructive behaviors not as the cause of a bad attitude, but as the result of the heart’s sinful condition. “For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit. … The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like” (Gal. 5:17, 19–21). In other words, problems inside us result in selfish, hurtful acts.
If doing good deeds—that is, changing my behavior—does not lead to spiritual and emotional growth, what does?
The answer lies in this fact: Spiritual and emotional growth doesn’t occur all at once. Just as we physically pass from infancy to toddlerhood to youth to adolescence and, finally, into adulthood, we also pass through specific developmental stages of our emotions: bonding to others, separating from others, sorting out good and bad, and becoming an adult.1
Bonding to others. Bonding to others, or attachment, is our deepest and most primary spiritual and emotional need. God is relational, and he created us as relational beings (1 John 4:16). From the womb, we need connection with God and others for comfort, safety, a sense of belonging, nurturing, and meaning. People who are injured during this developmental stage, who do not bond as infants and children, have great difficulty trusting, being intimate, and depending on others. As a result, they may become depressed or may compulsively overeat, trying to find comfort in food rather than in the love of others.
Separating from others. Our second developmental need is to separate from others in order to take ownership of our lives. We must learn what is us and what is them. We must learn to distinguish between what God has and has not given us responsibility for. This principle of learning responsibility applies all the way from taking care of the earth (Gen. 1:28) to saying no when a friend asks you to lend him money that you have pressing, legitimate need for yourself. In this developmental stage we need to learn the skill of setting limits, or boundaries, around our personal spiritual property.2
People who are injured during this developmental stage—those who have inadequate personal boundaries—often can say no only with great difficulty. They have trouble staying focused, getting organized, and controlling their lives. They may fly into a fit of rage, suffer a panic attack, or get depressed when they feel overwhelmed by all the projects and people for which they feel responsible.
Sorting out good and bad. After learning how to say yes to love (bonding), and no to evil (establishing boundaries), our third developmental need is to resolve the problem of good and bad. It is in this stage that we learn that we and the world aren’t black and white. We learn that we are imperfect people living with imperfect people in an imperfect world. From holding impossible ideals for ourselves and others, we move to grieving over our losses, forgiving others, and receiving forgiveness ourselves. Jesus said that he didn’t come for the well, but for the sick (Matt. 9:12). When we accept our sinfulness as something that draws us to Jesus, we are becoming wise. Those who are injured in this third stage often struggle with perfectionism, overoptimism, denial, and shame. They feel that life isn’t fair. The fruits of this kind of injury can include bulimia or sexual addiction, in which the “bad” part of a person’s character becomes sexualized, causing him or her to act out sexually.
Becoming an adult. In this final stage, a person moves from emotional childhood to emotional adulthood. God desires that we be mature and take authority over what he has given to us: our gifts, values, careers, marriages, friendships, and callings. No longer can we depend on the approval of parents; as emotional adults, we value their input, but make our own way in the world. As Jesus said, we have only one Father, and we should not call anyone on earth “father” (Matt. 23:9). People injured during this fourth developmental stage, who do not grow up, either have problems submitting to authority, or they are overcompliant and rule-bound. They either question authority at every turn, or they never do. They either break the rules, or they follow them to the letter. The fruit of such injuries includes scrapes with the law as well as obsessive-compulsive disorders, in which a person has a persistent preoccupation with an unreasonable idea (like worrying about getting fired or getting cancer) or has an irresistible impulse to perform an irrational act (like frequent hand washing).
Many people are damaged during all four stages. For example, you might have trouble making attachments with people. So you set to work on that—only to discover in the process that you can’t set limits with others. And this inability, in turn, causes you to avoid people instead of confronting them. Your isolation consequently increases.
You might also become keenly aware of what psychologists call a good-bad split in you, which causes you to condemn yourself any time you experience failure or loss. This only makes you withdraw further from others. At the same time, you may cave in to those in authority around you, afraid to challenge them or voice your opinion. Your fear of criticism from your superiors may further distance you.
In all these cases, destructive actions do not cause, but follow spiritual and emotional problems. Yes, we are responsible for what we do; but we must recognize the source of our actions before we can change them. Let’s “clean the inside of the cup and dish,” as Jesus said, “and then the outside also will be clean” (Matt. 23:26).
The process of belatedly leading yourself into emotional adulthood can be discouraging at first. But as you deal with all the issues, you are deepening and strengthening your bonds with your support network. You are working work step-by-step and shoulder-to-shoulder with a patient God, who wants you to handle only what you can handle today (Matt. 6:34). The result? A gradual increase of your loving feelings, of your emotional connections, and of your loving attitudes and behaviors toward others. And then your fruit will begin changing.
Behavior is a spiritual barometer. It reflects change more than it causes change. The Bible teaches that what we do and how we behave reflects who we are. “A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit … by their fruit you will recognize them” (Matt. 7:18, 20). In other words, we are to observe the results of our lives—our actions—and evaluate if they are good. Then we’ll have a handle on evaluating our spiritual state.
For example, the giver who allows others to control her time often appears fruitful. People speak well of her loving actions. Yet her fruit is actually a halfhearted, resentful compliance (2 Cor. 9:7). If she continues to give reluctantly, depression or compulsive behaviors will surely follow. Depleted, she will begin to emotionally and spiritually withdraw.
Depression and compulsive behaviors are often blessings in disguise. These distressing symptoms signal that something is wrong inside, and that we need to seek help. What a contrast to the idea that we are to “behave” well to get well! The Bible teaches us just the opposite: Getting well brings better behavior.
How then do we grow spiritually and emotionally? Just as the correct mixture of sunlight, water, air, and soil nourishes a plant through its seed, shoot, bud, and adult states, we also need ingredients to help us grow. God provides three elements that nurture our passage through the four different stages of growth: grace, truth, and time.
Grace. Grace, the first ingredient necessary for growth, is something we get from God. We don’t deserve grace; we can’t earn it. God just gives it to us. God created us to need relationship, and when relationship was broken in the Garden of Eden, he restored us into relationship with him through grace. “When we were God’s enemies,” the Bible says, God “reconciled [us] to him through the death of his Son” (Rom. 5:10).
Despite the violent problems spawned by gangs in urban centers throughout the country, it is in gangs that many young people, ironically, find grace. Here they are accepted. They may have been kicked out of their childhood homes, they may have run away from home, they may feel alienated. To compensate they chose a new family, albeit a destructive and damaging one. But they feel permanently attached. As a thirteen-year-old girl said about the prospect of being killed in a gunfight, “At least I’ll die with my gang.”
Grace says you belong, no matter who you are or what you do. You are part of the family. You matter. A safe relationship can fuel your spiritual and emotional growth. Just as the branch can’t survive long without the vine (John 15:6), you can’t flourish without being spiritually and emotionally attached and connected to God and his people.
Truth. If grace is the heart of growth, truth is its skeleton, its structure. Truth is the information we must learn to live life. Truth may nudge us to assume responsibility in one area or to confront the sin in another. Truth may impel us to learn a new skill, like setting boundaries. The truths of the Bible, for example, relate to our need to be “thoroughly equipped for every good work” (2 Tim. 3:17).
Phyllis came to therapy disturbed that she preferred her nine-year-old daughter over her twelve-year-old son. The active boy constantly rubbed her the wrong way, frequently challenging her authority. Phyllis discovered that she resented him daily. The girl, on the other hand, was helpful, cooperative—just more likeable.
It wasn’t that Phyllis didn’t understand her son’s boyishness. She understood his need for more controls. She also recognized that he and her daughter were at different developmental stages. Yet try as she might, Phyllis couldn’t make herself feel closer to her boy.
One day in therapy, Phyllis realized that her son reminded her of a lost part of her personality. She’d been raised to be compliant—very much, in fact, like her own daughter. Her parents had discouraged any disagreement in the house. Phyllis’s son revived in her deep feelings of self-hatred, which in turn reflected her hatred of her parents for rejecting her innately aggressive and challenging nature.
The truth behind her feelings liberated Phyllis. Now that she knew where the feelings originated and why her son pushed so many angry buttons in her, she could deal with her feelings and learn to love her son more. In addition, she began to develop the sassy part of her personality she had buried in childhood. The truth had indeed freed her (John 8:32).
Time. Time is the incubator in which grace and truth produce their fruit. Time allows us space to learn the maturing truths we need, with no condemnation. When Jesus told us to take up our cross daily (Luke 9:23), he was referring to, among other things, the ongoing process of taking ownership of our lives. Spiritual growth is not instantaneous. It’s more like what an oven does than a microwave, slowly and gradually heating and melting the ingredients together to produce a new person.
Phyllis, for example, didn’t change her feelings for her son overnight. It took time to deepen her understanding of her own fear of being aggressive, time to distinguish her son’s behavior from her past, time to get to know him in a new way, time to forgive her parents. But slowly and gradually, she began to accept her son with more grace and less resentment.
These three elements unite in our lives to make us recovered, whole, loving, and functional beings. Grace and truth come to us through Jesus (John 1:17), and one purpose he makes of them is to mature us.
Like Debra, Jeff was depressed. The thirty-five-year-old businessman couldn’t concentrate on work, had no energy, and couldn’t sleep at night. Fights with his wife were getting more frequent.
“I feel like I’m a walking dead man,” he said during his first therapy session. “I can’t feel alive. I can’t feel sadness. I can’t feel my wife or my kids. And I want to.”
The Christian therapist diagnosed an attachment disorder; in other words, Jeff had difficulty making emotional connections. So at some point in life, he learned to cope by being competent, responsible, and self-sufficient.
In weekly sessions with his therapist, Jeff found a safe place to explore why feelings and closeness were so difficult for him. He also joined a relationally oriented Bible study at his church, where he gradually opened up and began sharing his deepest fears and desires.
Through a difficult process, Jeff came to terms with the fact that he came from an emotionally detached family. Though he had always thought his parents were near perfect, he began to see that their perfection was merely polite distance. Then he felt in himself loss and anger.
Jeff also had to learn to take responsibility for his disconnection. Although he did not cause it, it was his problem, not the problem of his parents, his wife, or his friends. He had to take ownership for every time he withdrew when he should have reached out for comfort and help. With his support group’s help, he became acutely aware of all the ways he maintained distance from others.
All three elements of growth gradually fell into place for Jeff: grace (through his therapist and support group), truth (in the form of the biblical information he learned and how it applied to the insights of those who knew him), and time (as week after week he dealt with his tendency to withdraw rather than reach out to family and friends).
Growth is a process. We need a safe place of love, helpful information about ourselves, and time to practice and fail.
What does this view of growth tell us? Simply that good, mature, loving, responsible behavior follows God’s pattern—it comes after long, hard periods of work on root issues.
Consider this scenario: You contract a fever and visit your doctor. He diagnoses you with a bacterial infection. Then, instead of writing up a prescription for an antibiotic, he looks you in the eye and says, “Here’s how to cure your fever: Three times a day, act 98.6 degrees. Behave as though you had a normal temp. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”
Remedies as unsound as this are urged on Christians when they’re told to change their fruit—while ignoring the root.
In essence, the elder’s wife told Debra to pretend she loved others. So Debra tried to cover up her conflicts. This covering up of resentment—the spiritual thing to do, according to Debra’s friend—sounds ominously like what the Pharisee did, and what Jesus reserved some of his most harsh words for.
Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean (Matt. 23:25–26).
The Pharisees had it together. They behaved correctly in all circumstances, on all occasions. They were scrupulous. Yet judging from Jesus’ words to them, God is more interested in Debra’s understanding why she is depressed (so that she can resolve her depression) than he is in meticulous correctness. He is more interested in our searching our hearts (Ps. 139:23) to find out why we act out, are sad, or have impure thoughts. He wants to get at the actual problem—the spiritual problem—and heal it, because he knows that then and only then will the outside of the cup be clean.
Some people can pretend good behavior for a while. Like actors waiting in the wings to perform, they ready themselves for acting happy and positive, for behaving correctly, for appearing spiritual. It takes lots of effort, too.
People who extend their pretend existences for a lifetime often control others by becoming their teachers, just as Sharon, the elder’s wife, controlled Debra. Such control keeps the Sharons of the world away from their own problems. Debra, however, was headed in another direction. Despite Sharon’s “behavior” answer, Debra was headed for despair.
When our hope is not realized, we despair: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick” (Prov. 13:12). That’s what happens to some when they attempt to live life according to this crazymaker. Years and years of trying to do the right thing, of trying to behave in right ways—yet with no deep sense of emotional connectedness to God or others—sooner or later loses steam. These disappointed and frustrated people often leave the church—Christianity “just didn’t work out,” they say. They feel like spiritual failures because they couldn’t act “like a Christian.”
Yet the very word “Christian” signifies “problems.” We are saved only when we are aware of our grave spiritual trouble, only when we are convinced we can’t live life on our own without God. Christians, then, behave like everyone else—that is, like people with problems. We may be forgiven, but we’re not perfect.
The distinction Jesus pointed out between the prayers of a Pharisee and a tax collector illustrate this. The Pharisee fasted, tithed, and thanked God that his behavior was proper. The tax collector simply pled for mercy with a humble and repentant heart—and left justified (Luke 18:10–14). Beware of those who seem to have their spiritual act together. They may recruit you to their fasting and tithing program, without checking first with God.
The “good behavior” approach insults the redemptive power of God to heal us. It places the power for change squarely back onto our shoulders. It assumes that we have the power to stop our selfish, lustful, hating hearts—by changing our behavior. (See Assumption #10.)
Changing one’s behavior in order to change one’s heart also fosters a proud, omnipotent self-dependency that leaves God out of the picture. Instead of God, all we have is an impotent deity who feebly wishes us well while passively watching our pain and struggle.
This is hardly the case. God is the source and being for our recovery: “For from him and through him … are all things” (Rom. 11:36). He is at work within us “to will and to act according to his good purpose” (Phil. 2:13). He forms, fuels, and forges our growth and emotional repair.
This teaching that “If only I change my behavior, I will grow spiritually and emotionally,” is, at its heart, an idolizing of humans. Colossians 2:23 calls this “willworship” (NKJV), or the worship of our willpower, our own power to sanctify ourselves. It turns its face from humility, from dependency on God and on his church. It turns its face from inability, from brokenness, and from failure. And it depends on our own internal power to choose maturity every time—a power we lost at the fall.
If changing your behavior does not produce long-lasting differences in your spirit, then should you simply “let go and let God”? Should you become a passive observer in your own spiritual recovery? Should you sit back and let God fix you?
This perspective isn’t any more biblical than the “behavior” answer, its opposite. God places a high value on personal responsibility—the part we have to play in our growth. We are to “work out [our] salvation with fear and trembling” (Phil. 2:12).
Remember that God wants to help you develop an increasing sense of responsibility over your life. He wants you to become fully adult. Children need others to be responsible for them; but to grow into emotional and spiritual adulthood is to become stewards of our feelings, thoughts, and behavior.
Then what can we do? If both are true—that our actions are signals that indicate our spiritual condition (rather than causes that determine our condition), and also that we bear responsibility in getting well—then what can we do to help ourselves without trying to do God’s work for him?
The Bible presents an answer: Instead of attempting to fix our symptoms, we can actively take ourselves to good nutrients. Just as a tree planted in rich soil can flourish, so can we expose ourselves to God’s healing resources.
The only behavior we can practice that will move us to emotional and spiritual adulthood is picking ourselves up and taking ourselves to good nutrients—that is, to God and his people. Yet even this action on our part is God’s work within us: “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him,” Jesus said (John 6:44). It’s hard to admit that we are powerless to change our behavior. It takes deep humility to take our failure, shame, and pain to the right kind of people—people who will move toward us, comforting us as they themselves were comforted (2 Cor. 1:3–4).
The alcoholic who tries to stop drinking by using willpower and commitment is wasting his time. He’s much better off using that willpower to take himself to the next support meeting. The depressed individual who tries to act positively is stuck in a cycle of despair. She needs to find places of grace and truth where her weary heart can find healing. As we use our behavior to propel us to love and responsibility instead of trying to fix ourselves, we use our actions to bring about true change.
Yet even positive behavioral change can actually be a warning that all is not well. And negative actions can actually be a good sign of growth. Even no change can be a sign of growth.
Frank sat on the edge of his seat during his first session of therapy, painting himself a picture of eagerness and cooperativeness. You wouldn’t have thought that a man whose wife had kicked him out of the house until he got therapy would be this positive about getting help. You wouldn’t have thought that a man with a long history of rage attacks, work performance problems, and chronic lateness would be this eager for help. Yet he seemed to be just that.
“Just tell me the program, Doc,” Frank told me. “I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Okay,” I said. “It’s pretty simple. The program is this, Frank: Disagree with and rebel against everything I say.”
There was a long pause. “Why?” he finally asked.
“Because it will help you stop lying,” I told him. “Your lifelong history shows that you can’t disagree with others until you feel pushed against the wall. You have tremendous needs to be approved, and yet you hate complying in order to get approval. I’m suggesting we see who you really are.”
Frank also had a long history with therapists. First persuading them that he was a highly motivated client, he would then improve his behavior significantly, attributing it to the brilliance of the therapist. Then for no apparent reason, he would “relapse”—lose his job, get in a fight, or terminate therapy abruptly.
Frank’s sudden burst of positive behavior had nothing to do with his spiritual development. He was merely appeasing a feared and hated authority figure. Years earlier, I discovered, Frank had learned to placate his angry father the same way. Frank was a man pleaser instead of a God pleaser (Gal. 1:10). And it never stuck, because it was based on the fear of disappointing someone rather than on gratitude for being loved. Frank had learned to sacrifice his true feelings to avoid the anger of others.
Frank didn’t say much the rest of that first session, but during the second one he had plenty to say. He began telling the truth about how deeply he resented having to see me, how angry he was at what he perceived as his wife’s leveraged power play, and ultimately how afraid he was of being controlled by others.
Initial bursts of good behavior are often based on fear. However, no growth comes unless love is present—and love and fear can’t live in the same heart: “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment” (1 John 4:18). For Frank, doing the right thing was only a way to keep from being hurt. There was no fruit of love in his heart.
The second reason we can’t always trust behavioral change is that what looks like regression is sometimes a good sign. For example, Frank finally underwent a period during which he was more oppositional, rebellious, and hard to live with than ever. Some Christians would have assumed he was only backsliding and needed to be confronted with his sin.
Yet Frank was in the process making the outside of the cup consistent with the inside (Matt. 23:25–27), bringing out conflicts and injuries he’d been hiding for years. And as he began responding to attachment and to nonpunitive limits, he was able to bring his behavior under control.
Spiritual and emotional injuries and deficits are often hidden in darkness inside our hearts, away from relationships marked by the grace of God and his people. When these painful and negative thoughts and memories begin emerging in relationships, people sometimes act for the first time as they have actually felt for decades.
Some get angry. Some mourn their losses. Some feel dependent for the first time in their lives. Such feelings can be unpleasant for both the person feeling them and for those around him or her. But expression of these feelings indicates that God is bringing what has been in isolation into relationship.
The story of the prodigal son and his “good” elder brother points this out. After the younger son had squandered his inheritance in wild living, he felt empty and realized his need for help. However, the elder son—the “good” one—was full of envy: “All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders,” he lashed out at his father. “Yet you never gave me even a young goat” (Luke 15:29).
In other words, the elder son behaved well because he feared losing the inheritance, not because he wanted to be good. The prodigal son, however, dealt honestly with his sinfulness and rebellion and was able to repent and be close to his father.
What appear to be dangerous and even bad periods in some lives can actually bring them closer to the Lord, because these individuals honestly wrestle with God, as did Jacob at Jabbok, rather than fearfully comply.
When one gets emotional help, there may be no immediate results. Depression hangs on. Their eating is still out of control. The marriage still teeters on the edge.
At this point, well-meaning friends often enter the scene to say something like this: “If your therapy [or support group, recovery program, etc.] is working so well, why aren’t you different? Isn’t it supposed to produce results?” The person in recovery begins to doubt the process, his own intentions, or God himself.
Again, spiritual and emotional growth isn’t instantaneous. In Scripture God continually compares our maturity and recovery to how plants thrive: the one who delights in God’s law “is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season” (Ps. 1:3).
What is your “in season”? “In season” means “at the proper time.” Given the proper ingredients for growth, such as hard work and God’s inner working, you will burst forth with fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, and self-control (Gal. 5:22–23). “In season” means not a day before—and not a day later. Premature fruit is willpower driven, not God driven.
You’ll go through dark times, times when your behavior still feels out of control, times when you might question God. But he is still working deep within your character, moving, healing, and changing you inside. Like the farmer scattering seed and seeing it sprout “though he does not know how” (Mark 4:26–29), you don’t always know how God is changing you. But keep doing your part, and let him have his way with his ingredients, deep inside. Easy change is shallow change, not character growth.
A season of no change in your life may simply mean that some particularly important and deep healing is going on inside right now. Beware of those who might interpret God’s slow, underground, invisible work in you as a sign of no growth. Beware of promises of quick fixes that require nothing of humility, faith, patience, or delay of gratification—all signs of true spiritual maturity.
Debra, the budding behaviorist whose predicament opened this chapter, was fortunately a searcher. When her resentment and anger weren’t alleviated by her “good” actions (as her friend assured her they would be), she didn’t keep trying the same thing.
But neither did she give up. She got involved in a recovery group at church that gave her permission to understand her negative feelings instead of discounting them. She found a Christian therapist who helped her see that acting positively was simply that—an act. And she found the grace to resolve the feelings.
Pepper steak even found its way again to Debra’s dinner table—not to assuage her pain, but because she loved her husband and kids.