The newborn Christian is a migrant; he has come into the kingdom of God from his old home in the kingdom of man and he must get set for the violent changes that will inevitably follow.

One of the first changes will be a shift of interest from earth to heaven, from men to God, from time to eternity, from earthly gain to Christ and His eternal kingdom. Suddenly, or slowly but surely, he will develop a new pattern of life. Old things will pass away and behold, all things will become new, first inwardly and then outwardly; for the change within him will soon begin to express itself by corresponding changes in his manner of living.

–A.W. Tozer (The Dwelling Place of God, pg 62)

I’ve been thinking a lot about spiritual transformation–what really changes us? What makes us more into the image of Christ? Tozer makes it clear that spiritual transformation is ongoing. When we choose to follow Jesus, the old self falls off like the sloughing of skin. Yet what role do we play in the change? I don’t think spiritual transformation happens to us as much God works through us and we are invited to be participants through discipline, perseverance, and practice. I believe reading the scripture, prayer, and spiritual community are essential to spiritual transformation.

What leads to spiritual transformation in your own life? Is there a particular discipline or practice that ushers in the God’s transformative presence in your life?

God, Change me. Don’t stop changing me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Is it possible that the Christian church is now satisfied to accept God as simply the God of history? Does it feel no need for individuals to meet God in living, personal experience?

We do have God in history and Christ in history. But where is the emphasis on the need for a transforming encounter with the living God who transcends history?

In what I have to say I may not be joined by any ground swell of public opinion, but I have a charge to make against the church. We are not consciously aware of God in our midst. We do not seem to sense the tragedy of having almost completely lost the awareness of His presence.

I do not say that to condemn. I say it with a grieving spirit. I pray that the churches in this day may yet reap the joys and fruits of gracious revival and the deep inward awareness of God’s presence.

–A.W. Tozer (Men Who Met God, pg 121)

I read Tozer’s words and do not find them an indictment against the church at all, but rather an invitation to pursue the presence of God in my life. His words remind me that as we seek to know God, the desire begins both on an individual and corporate level. It’s a hunger. A longing. A desire that stirs above others.

God, Give me the desire to pursue you and give me a deep inward awareness of your presence. May the revival we long for in our communities and nation begin in our own hearts. Amen.

Few realize secret of bathing our souls in silence. It was a secret our Lord Jesus Christ knew very well. There were times when He had to send the multitudes away so He could retire alone into the silence of the mountainside. There He would turn the God-ward side of His soul toward heaven and for a long time expose Himself to the face of His Father in heaven.

–A.W. Tozer (Men Who Met God, p. 103)

I’ve asked the question, “Which comes easier for you-silence or stillness?” I think it’s important to distinguish the subtle but significant difference. One can experience silence without stillness. I know some would disagree, but if I pace my living room in silent prayer it’s awfully quiet and I can find the silent place in my soul without being perfectly still. And I can sit perfectly still but have my mind clanging with a thousand to-do’s and wonderments.

I need to be more intentional about “bathing my soul in silence” -whether or not my body is moving and experience the healing, restoration, and presence that comes with it.

Father, help me to embrace silence as friend and not foe. Amen.

If the bush had been burning in that way in our day, do you know what we would do? We would advertise a great Bible conference. We would spend tens of thousands of dollars promoting an international “retreat.” We would eat up all the ham and sweet potatoes in the area while we talked and gossiped. Then we would pass a resolution to build a fence around the area containing that miraculous desert bush.

Friend, our preservation and our security do not depend on bylaws and regulations. Our security lies in the presence of God in the midst of His people.

It takes the church a long time to learn some of these lessons. Centuries ago, a serious-minded monk named Simeon Stylites climbed to the top of a pillar 60 feet high and stayed there for 30 years. He said it was his way of trying to preserve his holiness.

My comment is this: If Simeon Stylites had read the third chapter of Exodus, he would have learned that when the fire of God dwells within a person, he does not have to climb 60 feet and be completely without elevator service to be in spiritual safety. …

Christian believers are called to be burning bushes. They are not necessarily called to be great, or to be promoters and organizers. But they are called to be people in whom the beautifying fire of God dwells, people who have met God in the purifying crisis of encounter.

–A.W. Tozer (Men Who Met God, p. 75, 77)
I love Tozer’s feistiness! I have to remind myself that he wrote this nearly half a century ago. Not much has changed–except for maybe what’s on the menu (lasagna instead of ham)! I am challenged that our security lies in the presence God. Tozer’s words make me want to search for God all the more, to know Him.

Father, stir up the hunger to know you more. Amen.

It is amazing to me! There are people within the ranks of Christianity who have been taught and who believe that Christ will shield His followers from wounds of every kind.

If the truth were known, the saints of God in every age were only effective after they had been wounded. They experienced the humbling wounds that brought contrition, compassion and a yearning for the knowledge of God. I could only wish that more among the followers of Christ knew what some of the early saints meant when they spoke of being wounded by the Holy Spirit.

Think for a moment about the apostle Paul. I suppose there is no theologian living or dead who quite knows what Paul meant when he said, “From henceforth let no man make trouble for me: for i bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus” (Galatians 6:17). Every commentary has a different idea. I think Paul referred to the wounds he suffered because of his faith and godly life.

–A.W. Tozer (Men Who Met God, p. 59)

I cringe when people suggest that becoming a follower of Jesus will provide a shield from hurt, pain, and loss. After all, Jesus was nailed to a tree, betrayed by a best friend, and stared death in the eyes. Yes, he triumphed, but he also never went numb. He felt. He sensed. He ached. He cried out.

We will, too.

Sometimes when I invite people to know Jesus I’ll tell them flat out: Becoming a follower of Jesus will not make you skinner, richer, or more powerful. The words are usually met with nervous laughter, because everyone knows that it’s uncomfortably true. I’m grateful for Tozer’s timeless words.

What do you think are some of the biggest misconceptions people have about becoming a follower of Jesus?