Here’s the thing about spiritual transformation: it doesn’t happen my way or on my timeline.
The other day, I went to church with my husband and son to meet with my pastor, because our family is walking through the pain of addiction right now with my older son.
The night before, we’d had a hard conversation. I was in a rush to have a plan—a roadmap. I wanted to control the situation, to fix it my way, on my timeline.
So, not surprisingly, there was tension. Defensiveness. Misunderstanding. Hurt feelings.
To me, it felt all wrong. That conversation didn’t go the way I thought it should.
The truth is, I was being rigid. I was trying to force the situation to conform to my way of thinking. I was trying to fit God into my box.
My husband and I often remind each other—especially after walking through this for a long time—not to “play old tapes.”
Don’t let what always happens play so loudly in your mind and heart that you miss what’s actually happening right now.
Don’t play the old tape where the other shoe drops.
Don’t brace yourself in fear so much that you miss what’s going right.
Don’t ruin the moment by waiting for something to go wrong.
Don’t miss what God is doing just because you don’t recognize the method.
Just a few hours after our family conversation with Pastor, I was in the church office chatting with Pastor and his wife Melinda (Lady L), when we heard my son on the other side of the sanctuary, working with our worship arts director—making music.
I heard my son’s voice.
The same voice that had argued with me in pain the night before was now rapping new lyrics. Creating something new.
Now, it’s not an instant miracle. Everything isn’t fixed. We still have a long road ahead in recovery.
But it was a moment.
A powerful one.
And it made me stop and think: What do I know?
Instead of thinking, “You’re doing it wrong,” something shifted in me.
And when my posture shifted, I was able to witness the new work God was already doing.
Pastor paused, listening to what was happening outside the door, and said to me,
“Ya see? Step back. Step out of the way. And let God do what He do.”
That might be my new favorite phrase.
“Let God do what He do.”
Because He doesn’t do it like I would.
He does it better.
And I forget that… more often than I’d like to admit.
Today, this morning, God met me in Mark 2—and it hit me clearly:
I need to shed old skin if I’m going to make room for God’s fresh work.
Shedding Your Old Skin
Friends, have you ever noticed how God rarely moves the way we expect Him to?
We pray. We believe. We ask God to move—and then when He does, it doesn’t look like the version we had in mind.
If we’re not careful, we won’t just be confused—we’ll become resistant.
And if we stay resistant long enough, we can actually miss the miracle.
In Mark 2, Jesus is moving in powerful, undeniable ways. But not everyone celebrated it. Some people missed it entirely.
When Faith Breaks Through the Roof
At the beginning of Mark 2, a group of friends bring a paralyzed man to Jesus. The crowd is so thick, they can’t even get in the door.
So what do they do?
They go up on the roof… tear it open… and lower their friend down to Jesus.
It’s disruptive. It’s unconventional. It’s definitely not “how things are supposed to be done.”
But Jesus doesn’t rebuke them.
He doesn’t complain about the mess.
He doesn’t say, “You should have waited your turn.”
Instead, He responds to their faith.
“Son, your sins are forgiven.”
And just like that, the miracle begins.
Sometimes faith doesn’t follow the rules—it breaks through whatever stands in the way of Jesus.
When Critics Miss the Miracle
While the miracle is unfolding in Mark 2, the scribes and Pharisees are sitting nearby—not celebrating, but criticizing.
“Who does He think He is?”
“That’s not how this is supposed to work.”
They are so committed to their expectations… their systems… their roles… that they completely miss the power of God right in front of them.
They aren’t responding from spiritual discernment. They’re responding from fear… and ego.
And here’s the danger:
When we cling to our old ways, we don’t just observe less of what God is doing—we actually remove ourselves from participating in it.
We become spectators where we were meant to be servants.
Critics where we were meant to be carriers of faith.
New Wine Requires New Wineskins
All throughout Mark 2, Jesus is doing unexpected miracles in unexpected ways. And all the while, the Pharisees stand by with folded arms and furrowed brows.
They miss the moment every time—not because God isn’t moving, but because they’re resistant instead of expectant.
Right in the middle of the chapter, Jesus says:
“No one pours new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins.”
God is doing a new thing—but it requires a new container.
Old wineskins can’t handle new wine. They’re too rigid. Too set in their shape. Too attached to what used to be.
And Jesus is clear—this isn’t just inconvenient.
It’s destructive.
If we try to force new wine into old wineskins, something ruptures.
What Happens If We Don’t Change
When I hold onto fear… when I insist on control… when I keep playing old tapes…
I don’t just feel frustrated.
I risk missing:
- The joy of seeing God move in real time
- The peace that comes from trusting Him instead of managing outcomes
- The privilege of participating in someone else’s breakthrough
I risk standing in the room where God is working—and still walking away unchanged.
And it’s not just personal.
In a church family, when too many of us cling to old skin, something deeper is at risk.
- Instead of unity, we get tension.
- Instead of movement, we get resistance.
- Instead of transformed lives, we get stalled momentum.
Not because God stopped moving…
…but because we stopped making room.
What This Looks Like in Real Life
I see this in my own heart.
And I see it in how I respond when things don’t feel controlled—even at church.
Recently, our Thursday night choir rehearsal has been completely reimagined to make room for the youth in our community. What used to be predictable has become something new—a “Thursday Night Live” experience that’s part choir rehearsal, part youth event, part revival, part outreach.
It’s chaotic.
It’s unpredictable.
It doesn’t follow a tight agenda.
It didn’t come with a polished rollout plan.
It just… erupted.
And in the middle of what feels like chaos—God is moving.
Lives are being changed.
Hurting young people are being reached.
People who haven’t walked through church doors in a long time are being embraced and loved.
God isn’t walking through the front door.
He’s raising the roof.
And I’ve had to confront this in myself:
Am I going to criticize the method…
or witness the miracle?
Because if I don’t shed my old skin, I won’t just feel uncomfortable—
I’ll miss being part of what God is doing.
When Old Tapes Try to Take Over
As my son walks through recovery, I can feel the old tapes trying to play.
The fear.
The waiting for something to go wrong.
The instinct to brace myself instead of believe.
God is moving—but not on my timeline. Not in the way I expected.
And I have a choice:
Will I stay wrapped in old skin…
or will I shed it so I can witness the miracle?
Because if I stay in fear, I won’t just protect myself from disappointment—
I’ll also rob myself of joy.
Don’t let yesterday’s pain blind you to today’s breakthrough.
A Word to Leaders (And to Myself)
This part is especially for those of us who lead, serve, and care deeply about the church.
It’s easy to feel unsettled when things change.
When roles shift.
When methods look unfamiliar.
When you’re no longer the one shaping how things happen.
Fear whispers:
“Am I being replaced?”
“Is this out of control?”
“Is this even right?”
But what if the real question isn’t whether we’re in control…
…but whether we’re still available?
Because when leaders cling tightly to old skin, the risk isn’t just personal discomfort.
It’s rupture.
We can unintentionally create division.
We can slow down what God is accelerating.
We can miss the very fruit we’ve prayed for—because it didn’t come through the structure we expected.
But when leaders choose humility over control…
when we hold out a fresh container instead of clinging to an old one…
We don’t lose our place.
We step into a greater one.
Don’t Miss This Moment
All throughout Mark 2, miracles are happening.
And yet, some people walk away unchanged—not because God didn’t move, but because they couldn’t let go of their old way of seeing.
Friends, don’t let that be us.
God is moving.
In your life.
In your family.
In your church.
But it may not look like you thought it would.
So shed the old skin.
Release the old expectations.
Silence the old tapes.
And come closer—not to control what God is doing…
…but to be part of it.
New wine is flowing.
The question is—are we ready to receive it?
