Spiritual growth occurs at the nexus of insight, decision and implementation. We are tempted to think that a person with spiritual insight is special, but that is simply untrue. God gives light and we look. That’s all that insight requires. Yet, even that is difficult if we have trained ourselves not to look. Some people, according to John’s Gospel, prefer to stay in the dark.

Even if we don’t choose darkness, we might like the half-light best. It offers enough light to make our way but not enough to reveal our sins. When God does send light, our gut reaction may be to head for cover, but it is essential that we stay in the light, allow our eyes to adjust to it, and see what it shows us.       

When God begins working in our lives (and that’s not really a good way to put it, since he was working on our behalf before we were born), we often don’t recognize what is happening; our eyes have not yet adjusted to the light. But God continues working and waiting for the day when we are capable – when we are big enough, when there is finally enough of us – to respond.

One day when I was 12-years-old, I was playing football in our side yard with boys from around the neighborhood. As the game was winding down, one of the guys ran to the store across the street. He came back moments later with candy he stole off the shelf. This bold exploit elevated him to stardom in our group, and he dared all the rest of us to go to the store and steal something, like he did. Anyone who didn’t do it, would be labeled a coward.

Most of the guys headed across the street, but I just stood there, thinking. That moment did not feel the least bit spiritual, but I could see that what they were doing was wrong. It was a mean thing to do to the old couple who owned the store, whom I’d known all my life. That was the extent of my insight. Nothing profound, but true nonetheless. And I made a decision based on that insight: I chose not to go along with the guys, though I knew it would diminish my standing among the group.

Looking back, I believe that decision and the insight that preceded it were important to my entire spiritual development. God was at work, shining light into the life of a 12-year-old boy, though I certainly didn’t know it then. In heaven, we will be aware of many such times – personal and profound – each a fresh occasion for giving thanks to our Father for working in our lives even when we didn’t know it or appreciate it.

When God shined light on the Pharisee Saul (Acts 9:1-19), he knew it; it knocked him off his feet (or perhaps, his mule). But this was not the first time God has shined light on the obstinate Pharisee. Saul was there when light shone from the martyr Stephen, when “his face was like that of an angel.” Saul had seen Stephen ask God to forgive the men – Saul was one of them – who were killing him.

I suspect Saul could not get away from what he saw. It stuck with him, entering his thoughts unbidden, invading his dreams. Insight was coming, bringing with it a moment of decision—a moment Saul did not want to face.

Saul kept pushing forward, but the ground was slipping from under him. I suspect that his heart faltered from time to time, but the forward motion of his fear and anger carried him on. He was being goaded in a direction he didn’t want to go, and he stubbornly kicked against the goads (Acts 26:14). Saul was running from the God he proudly claimed to serve.

The thing about running from God is that he’s everywhere. When you think you’re running from him, you’re really running to him. There is only one place you can be safe from Him, a place he designed as a refuge for those who refuse the light and hate the Light-Giver. Jesus called it “the outer darkness.” It is the only place you can be safe from God. Ironically, it is the only place you can be safe from salvation. It is not, however, a place where you can be safe from yourself and your sins.

Saul’s flight from the light brought him to the Light-Giver. He came, unwillingly it seems, face to face with the insight he had tried so hard to avoid. It was preceded, as insight always is, by revelation. The revelation that came to Saul on the Damascus Road was this: Jesus is Lord.

I can imagine something in Saul’s head saying, “No. Not that. Not … Jesus.” And then, deeper down, “Oh, I knew it.” This was revelation, not insight. Revelation has to do with what is; insight has to do with what it means. The revelation is God’s part. The insight is Saul’s—and ours.

Saul spent the next three days helpless and blind, with nothing to do but think. The man that wouldn’t stop running could not walk out of the house without help. Unable to see out, he was forced to see in. He reviewed his life – his work, his success, and his reputation – in the light of the revelation that Jesus is Lord, and he saw what that meant. This was his insight, and he later wrote about it in Philippians 3.

When the revelation that Jesus is Lord comes to us, it is just as much a miracle as it was when it came to Saul. Like him, we will either dare to look at what that means or we will turn toward darkness. This revelation (that Jesus is Lord), and the insight that follows, has the power to change us into the people we were always meant to be.

But revelation, even when coupled with insight, was not enough to change the Pharisee Saul into the Apostle Paul, nor is it enough to change me into the joyful and glorious man God had in mind when he made me. Insight must be followed by decision, and decision by implementation. Where these three exist together, spiritual change and growth will be abundant.