I Choose Today to Be Transformed

Have you ever caught yourself saying, “God’s transformed me,” but then wondered what that really means? We use the word transformation a lot, but how do we actually define it? What does it look like in real life?

I know I’ve shared many stories of how Jesus has changed my life, healed deep pain, and rewritten my story. But recently I realized something—I’ve never slowed down to really unpack what transformation is or what it looks like in the everyday. And maybe someone reading this needs to hear it today. Because here’s the thing: people often nod their heads at “transformation,” but secretly wonder, “What does that mean for me? And how do I begin?”

There’s a phrase I come back to often: “If we don’t let God transform our pain, we will end up transferring it to others.” Untransformed pain doesn’t disappear. It shows up in our marriages, our parenting, our friendships, even in our churches. It makes us quick to react, slow to trust, or guarded with others. But the transformation Jesus offers doesn’t just soothe the pain—it redeems it. He takes bitterness and grows compassion, He takes despair and gives endurance, He takes grief and forms comfort we can offer others.

That’s what transformation really is. It’s not just a tweak or a touch-up. It’s not surface-level change. The word itself means to fundamentally change in form, nature, or purpose. Think of a building under renovation, or a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, or a life once marked by fear now anchored in peace. Transformation isn’t cosmetic—it’s a re-creation. And it’s not passive. It’s participatory. It requires willingness, trust, and sometimes waiting in a season that feels hidden, uncomfortable, or slow.

The cocoon is one of my favorite pictures of this. A caterpillar doesn’t just grow wings—it dissolves completely. Everything it once was breaks down into liquid. And yet inside that process are imaginal discs, special cells that carry the blueprint of the butterfly. They were always there, even before the transformation began. Friend, God made you that way too. There are things He placed inside you long before the pain, long before the loss or betrayal or shame. Those parts are not gone. They are preserved in Him.

Isaiah 43:19 says, “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up—do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Even in hidden seasons, God is already at work. And just like the butterfly, the struggle of pressing against the cocoon is what strengthens the wings. If it were cut open too soon, the butterfly would never fly. The cocoon is not a grave—it’s a greenhouse.

Scripture makes this even clearer. “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17) “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” (Romans 12:2) This isn’t behavior management or trying harder. It’s Spirit-powered change that begins in the hidden places and overflows into every part of our lives.

Sometimes, instead of surrendering our pain, we bury it like the layers of an artichoke. We think if we stay busy enough or push it down far enough, it’ll disappear. But buried pain doesn’t vanish—it hardens. Transformation is the opposite. It’s inviting Jesus into every layer until He reaches the tender center. That’s where healing begins. That’s where new life grows.

One of the deepest transformations I’ve experienced came after the loss of my son, Bobby. That pain could have hardened me forever. For a season, it did. I remember feeling like I was dissolving in my own cocoon, like everything that defined me was breaking down. Grief reshaped my days. I didn’t know how to move forward. But when I invited Jesus into the raw center of that grief, He met me there. He didn’t rush me. He didn’t offer quick fixes. He sat with me. He wept with me. And slowly, He began to make something new. Not by erasing the pain—but by transforming it. Now, when I sit across from another grieving parent, I don’t offer theory. I offer what God formed in me in the hidden, sacred dark. That’s transformation.

So what does transformation look like step by step? It begins with awareness—when we stop pretending and admit what’s broken. Then surrender—inviting Jesus into the very place we’ve been managing on our own. It moves into identity—being redefined not by what happened to us, but by what He has done in us. Then renewal—slow, daily, holy change over time. And finally overflow—where what God heals in us, He uses through us to comfort others.

Friend, you don’t have to have it all together. Jesus doesn’t need your perfection, He just needs your yes. Will you trust Him with the pain you’ve been carrying? Will you let Him into the places you’ve buried? Transformation isn’t instant, but it is certain. The you who emerges from the cocoon will carry His presence in new ways, comfort others with the comfort you received, and you will never be the same.

💡 Today’s Step

Ask the Lord, “What area of my life do You want to transform? Where have I been protecting my pain instead of surrendering it?” Sit with Him. Write it down. Don’t rush out of the cocoon—your wings are forming there.

🙏 Prayer

Jesus, thank You for seeing every hidden place in me. I don’t want to carry pain that hasn’t been touched by You. Transform me from the inside out. Help me stay when I want to run, and trust that You are making a way—even in the wasteland. Amen.

🎧 Want to hear more? You can listen to the full episode of the I Choose Today podcast here: ichoosetoday.org/listen