I went to traffic court today, intent on fighting a ticket I received six months ago. I had done exactly what the officer said: failed to stop at a stop sign. My defense was that I never saw the sign or any other markings at the unlit, unusually wide intersection. I even had photos I’d taken with my cell phone to prove how dark it was.

I never got the chance to state my case. God stepped in, answering my prayer that the officer wouldn’t show up, and the judge said two of the most beautiful words in the English language: “Case dismissed.”

And that got me thinking about The Judgment Day I’ve been hearing about since I was a little kid. The one with movies but no popcorn, where all the sins of your whole life are shown in high definition for everyone to see. It seems strange that they’d have movies like that in heaven, but that’s another rabbit trail.

It seems that I’ve always heard two variations of how Judgment Day will be, at least for followers of Jesus: after the movie, either God declares the star Not Guilty because Jesus wiped the script clean, or else God rules Guilty but notes that Jesus already paid the price, so you get a free pass into heaven anyway.

Today gave a new twist to the ending. What if God simply declares, “Case dismissed”? You and I still know we’re really guilty, but The Accuser (that would be Satan) is a no-show at the courthouse. Kind of like the woman caught in adultery after all the stone-throwers have walked away; Jesus asks, “where are your accusers?” and she says, “they’ve left.” Case dismissed. Don’t sin anymore.

Christmas is past. The day, that is. The leftovers – gift wrap and food both – remain in the living room and the refrigerator, respectively. Extended family is still together, and without too many arguments so far. Pending homework has not yet reared its head sufficiently to dampen the spirits of the cousins, and sunshine, laughter, and memories have staved off cabin fever. Yes, Christmas is behind us.

Each year, at least one comic strip in the newspaper has a child

Recently I have grown increasingly aware of God’s relentless grace patiently and quietly pursuing me. In spite of all my arguments, excuses, and accusations against him, he continues to follow, refusing to let go, refusing to let me remain unchanged.

I haven’t always thought I needed to change much: I grew up in a strong, loving, Christ-following family. I’ve had good self-confidence since I was young, bolstered by success that has come fairly easily. I married a woman with an equally strong upbringing, whose talents continue to amaze me, and together we have three kids with good looks, better-than-average intelligence, and winsome personalities. The stories of transformation I’d heard usually involved radical change from lives of addiction, abuse, crime, and so on.

I wonder, though, if transformation is actually harder for those whose depravity is less obvious. I don’t hear people talking about being transformed from lives of pride or greed. Maybe their pride led them to an affair, or their greed resulted in drug addiction, and they later repented and were changed from those very public signs of brokenness. But the underlying sins? The pride, the greed, the gluttony? No, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a lifelong Christian talk about being transformed from those.

I’m pretty introspective, and the challenges that I’ve faced over the past few years – failure, unemployment, spiritual doubts – have turned me inward. In the valley it is easy to be misled by one’s inner thoughts; inappropriate self-doubt can creep in. At the same time, reflection can reveal truth about ourselves that has been hidden under layers of worldly success and well-practiced confidence. The trick is to sort through, to weed out the truth from the error, the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. And to figure out what to do about the truth that needs to be transformed. And, hardest of all, to submit to God’s transforming work.

I don’t know how a caterpillar feels when it’s in a cocoon or a bird in an egg. I don’t think either is a particularly comfortable position, though. Neither is transformation. It’s hard, painful, challenging, terribly uncomfortable. It’s also necessary, and can’t be rushed. Yet God’s grace is relentless, pursuing us in and through the process of changing us to reflect more of his image…the image in which we were created in the first place. And that can’t be bad!

Unfortunately, our churches aren’t helping. The trend in the western church for most of the last forty years has been to focus on growth, and for many churches that means drawing more people from farther away. Somewhere along the line, we seem to have decided that the “church on every corner” phenomenon was a bad thing, and certainly it suggested some negatives: denominationalism that screams “divided” to the outside world, half-empty parking lots that cry “lifeless.” The churches that were growing were very often the ones that adapted their methods – but not their message – to the changing culture. They sought to be relevant, to meet real needs in people’s lives, to operate at a level of excellence that others didn’t. And so they grew. And as they grew, they needed bigger facilities, more parking, more property. So they moved. And when they moved: away from the neighborhoods where they’d grown up and out to the suburbs where there was more room. And because they were growing, more people heard about them and wanted to try them; because they were meeting needs and doing things well, people were willing to drive farther to go to church. So then the same people who were driving to work five days a week were driving again on Sunday (or Saturday nights) to go to church. And maybe they were driving there on Wednesday nights for youth group or band practice. And the next thing you know is that no one knows the people around them at church. So the church starts a small groups ministry to get people connected to each other. But before too long, people are driving across town to their small group on Tuesdays and you realize that now everyone knows a few other people…whom they only see on Sundays and Tuesdays. And so….

The Greek word that we translate as church – ekklesia – suggests community; it is a gathering, an assembly. The same word was used for a variety of gatherings, both civic and religious.

Unfortunately, our churches don’t do a great job of helping: