How Grace Rewrites Your Story From the Inside Out

I vividly remember one of the times God deeply worked within me. I sat on our bed in a tiny apartment in Toronto, Canada. My Bible was laid out in front of me on the bed, and tears streamed from my eyes.

We had recently returned from a trip with our team to New York City. By default, I had become the trip planner (if you know me, you know this makes perfect sense). Before the trip, I had all kinds of options laid out for where we’d go and what we’d see.

When I explained my plans to the group and asked for input, everyone seemed up for it, sort of nodding and saying “okay.” I took that as two enthusiastic thumbs up. Then came the day of reckoning.

My perfect itinerary began being picked to shreds by those who actually had to walk the *ahem five miles in the February cold of New York City. I had viewed it as an adventure and a fun challenge. Others, not so much.

In my frustration, I said things that shouldn’t have been said. I felt like the trip was a total bust, guilty for what I said, and self-righteous about my own wounds.

Now I was sitting on my bed, having my devotions and feeling the conviction of the Holy Spirit. My selfishness and sin had been laid bare before me, and I felt a deep sense of mourning. This may sound like an exaggeration, but it was how I felt to my core. I thought I had been far beyond petty words and selfish motivations.

That series of events has stayed with me, but in a good way.

The Grief of Sin

When we care about living fully surrendered to Christ, sin makes us mourn. Sometimes, when Christ goes into those rooms of our hearts we thought were pristine and yet He finds mud, it can knock us down a few pegs.

I’m so grateful that sin brings guilt, but as Christians, it does not have to bring shame forever. I look back on those moments of my life with regret, but not with condemnation. I can share them because Christ redeemed those moments, forgave me for the sin in my heart, and brought more wisdom through them.

I can still tend to over-plan for trips (only on occasion-don’t ask Ezra), but thankfully, over time, Christ has changed my heart, my motivation, and my purpose. He’s helped me take a more eternal view, with less focus on my own wants and desires.

The Beauty of Surrender

As Christians, we often assume our intentions are good and our reactions justified, yet surrender means allowing Christ to examine not just obvious sin but our need for control, comfort, and validation. Moments of frustration often reveal what we didn’t realize was there, and instead of brushing past them, we’re invited to sit with that conviction and let the Spirit bring clarity.

Grief over sin is not meant to shame us but to refine us. Conviction is an act of grace, reminding us that love matters more than being right. When we respond with humility rather than defensiveness, confession becomes a doorway to freedom and restoration rather than guilt.

As we practice ongoing surrender, real change begins to take root. Our responses
soften, our priorities shift, and our focus moves from self to Christ. Growth may feel quiet and slow, but each honest act of repentance becomes a place where grace does its steady, transforming work.

As I’ve grown as a Christian, I’ve realized even more the failures of my humanity, my very well-planted selfishness, and my limited understanding.

I’m so thankful that as I continually surrender my heart to Christ, He continually makes me new. Each year, I can look back and see that I am different than the year before. It’s a cause for hope and celebration, and it makes me look forward to eternity with Christ more than ever.

I’m so thankful that He not only forgives me for my mistakes and sins. He also changes me, rewriting who I am from the inside out.