Transformation Is Slow
After Jesus sends out the seventy in Luke 10 and they return amazed at what they’ve seen, he responds with a moment that feels both celebratory and sobering:
“I watched Satan fall like lightning from heaven… But don’t rejoice that the spirits submit to you. Rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”
—Luke 10:18–20
For years, I read that as a strange pivot. But now, it’s one of the most profound things Jesus could’ve said.
Because in that moment, He’s pulling back the curtain.
He’s revealing something deeper and more lasting than the thrill of casting out demons.
He’s saying: You’re already secure. You belong. You don’t have to earn it. And you don’t have to prove it.
Satan wanted more power–it wasn’t enough for him to just belong.
And for those of us who have spent decades chasing performance—whether in religion, career, family, or ministry—this changes everything.
I Don’t Hold Ill Will—But I See the Flaw
Let me say this: I don’t hold ill will toward the group I was once part of.
I know it might sound like I do—because I’m pointing out a very real flaw. But I also know that flaw isn’t unique to any one group. It’s part of being human.
Whether we’re climbing the corporate ladder, trying to build a successful business, competing in sports, or chasing religious benchmarks—we’ve been conditioned to believe that our worth increases when we produce results.
We believe that people will love us more, admire us more, want us around more if we’re successful. And churches—like all human systems—are vulnerable to that same lie. Sometimes even more so, because the outcomes feel eternally significant.
That’s what makes Jesus’ words so disruptive:
“Rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”
He’s not just telling them where to place their joy—
He’s setting them free from a myth that’s been baked into our DNA.
Jesus Isn’t Just Revealing Reality—He’s Handing Us a Choice
Here’s what hit me on a run recently:
When Jesus tells the disciples to rejoice in their identity, not their power, He isn’t magically transforming them.
He’s showing them a glimpse of the real reality—but what they do with that is up to them.
Because transformation doesn’t happen in a moment.
It doesn’t happen because someone says something true and we have an aha moment!
It happens when we sit with it, wrestle with it, let it change how we think, which slowly starts to change how we feel, which eventually changes how we live.
Jesus heals.
Jesus delivers.
Jesus speaks truth.
But transformation is our part of the process.
It’s our yes. Our daily surrender. Our perseverance through the long, slow work of being made new.
Power Is Flashy. Belonging Feels Weak.
If I’m honest, I think many of us—just like the disciples—are secretly hoping for power to transform us.
We want a dramatic spiritual experience that fixes us once and for all.
We want authority. Breakthrough. Immediate results.
Because power is impressive.
Power is fast.
Power feels like control.
But belonging?
Belonging sounds… quiet. Passive, even.
It doesn’t “get results.”
It doesn’t help you climb the ladder.
There’s no accolades that come with it.
But Jesus doesn’t say, “Rejoice in your power.”
He says, “Rejoice that you belong.”
And the truth is—most of us would rather power be our identity, not Jesus.
We’d rather have applause than quiet assurance.
We’d rather be admired than deeply known.
But belonging is what actually transforms us.
Belonging tells us, “You’re already enough.”
And that’s where real change begins.
Why Transformation Is Always Slower Than You Think
Let’s face it—transformation is frustratingly slow.
It doesn’t come with fireworks or fanfare. It’s more like water carving through rock—over time, with persistence, almost imperceptible to the eye until suddenly, one day, you look back and realize: I’m not the same.
There’s no finish line.
No number that proves you’ve arrived.
No performance report to show off.
And that’s exactly why so many churches (and people) default back to what can be measured:
- How many showed up?
- How many converted?
- How many signed up?
But you can’t measure spiritual maturity on a spreadsheet.
You can’t quantify surrender, forgiveness, joy, or peace.
You can only live it.
And it only shows up over time, in how you treat people, how you respond to suffering, how you hold yourself when no one’s watching.
Satan Fell for Power. We Don’t Have To.
Satan fell because he loved the power God gave him more than the God who gave it.
And Jesus is saying: Rejoice—not in what God does through you, but that you are His.Because the moment we fall in love with our gifts and talents, we begin to shut the door on our relationship with the Father.
We start saying, “I got this. I don’t need You.”And while it may look like we’re doing great things for God—and we may even believe we are—internally, our hearts have drifted.
We no longer delight in God meeting our needs.
We prefer the illusion that we can succeed without Him. Its not as messy.And let’s face it—why wouldn’t we prefer that?
It’s uncomfortable to rely on God.
It’s unsettling to walk into situations where we’re not quite adequate and have to trust the Spirit to show up, to give us wisdom, to speak through us.We’d all rather feel confident in ourselves.
But when we prefer that, we’re skating on thin ice.
We’ve quietly traded the intimacy of dependence for the illusion of control.
You Already Belong—And That Changes Everything
No matter where you are in your walk with Jesus—
Whether you’re chasing results, clinging to your gifts, struggling with sin, doubting your faith, or just feeling tired—
Your name is written in heaven.
You belong to God just the same.
Pause….read that again…and again…till it sinks in.
That’s where Jesus wants us anchored—not in what we do, but in who we are.
Because if we don’t start there—
If we don’t know deep in our bones that we’re already loved, already forgiven, already His—
then the work we do in His name can get twisted by the very ego He came to set us free from.
Without that anchor:
- We spread the good news not with the authority Jesus gives us, but with authority we want to lord over others.
- We try to heal only those we believe are “worthy” of healing.
- We cast out darkness, not to set people free, but to protect our own religious image.
But when we are rooted in the reality that:
- We are already God’s,
- We are already forgiven,
- We are already loved,
- We are already healed,
- We are already enough—
then something shifts.
We don’t strive to prove we’re spiritual.
Our serving others is comes from a desire to give out of the abundance we’ve been given.
And only then—only from that place—can we even begin to see what Jesus sees:
“The fields are ripe for harvest.”
Because when we know who we are,
we’re no longer performing for applause.
We see the harvest for what it is—
not a scoreboard, but a field full of people longing to be healed, to be free, to be known.And we gather them—not to prove ourselves,
but to pass along the good news that’s been healing us all along:
You belong to God.We are workers because we’ve been transformed.
But in the mystery of grace, it’s the work itself that keeps transforming us.