There Punchinello found himself again — watching, comparing, wondering what everyone else thought of him. Around him, the Wemmicks rewarded what they admired with gold stars and marked what they disliked with gray dots. Some proudly displayed their stars. Others carried their dots with embarrassment. Punchinello knew which kind tended to stick to him. So he tried harder. He wanted to do something worthy of a star, something that would finally make others admire him. Yet the harder he tried to establish himself through their opinions, the more tightly those opinions governed him.
Then he noticed Lucia. She lived in the same world. People tried to give her stars. Others tried to give her dots. But the stickers would not stick. They simply fell off. Lucia seemed strangely free. Praise could not give her an identity she did not already possess, and criticism could not finally tell her who she was. To Punchinello, she may have looked like the most independent Wemmick he had ever met. But eventually he discovered almost the opposite.
Lucia kept going back to Eli, the Woodcarver who had made her. She spent time with him. She listened to him. She allowed his words about her to carry more weight than the judgments spoken around her.
Her freedom was relational before it was behavioral. She was not mainly learning how to resist stickers. She was being formed by a more trustworthy voice. The more richly the words of the Woodcarver dwell within Lucia, the less room there is for the stickers to tell her who she is.
That captures something essential about Christian maturity:
The more rightly dependent we become upon God, the less wrongly dependent we need to be upon everything else.
For the Christian, however, this dependence is not merely upon truths or principles. It is life with a Person. Jesus Christ is Savior and King, the living Lord around whom the whole of life is reordered. God is forming people who remain with Jesus, trust Him, receive His words, rely upon His Spirit, and increasingly live under His loving reign.
That raises a revealing question: What is actually governing me?
What praise do I need?
What criticism can undo me?
What am I afraid of losing?
What do I keep trying to prove?
Our reactions often reveal dependencies that our stated beliefs conceal.
We often imagine freedom as independence: I determine my own life. I decide what is right for me. Nobody tells me what to do.
Yet what appears to be independence may simply be dependence upon different masters. We can reject dependence upon God and become deeply dependent upon approval, achievement, recognition, comfort, pleasure, status, control, or the expectations of others.
The person who must continually impress people is not free. Neither is the person who cannot tolerate criticism or who needs recognition in order to feel significant. They may appear autonomous while being profoundly governed from the outside.
The Christian alternative is neither unhealthy dependence upon people nor autonomous independence. It is mature dependence upon God that increasingly frees us to live faithfully among people.
Jesus shows us this most clearly. He could say, “By myself I can do nothing...” (John 5:30 NIV), yet no one in Scripture appears more internally free:
Crowds did not govern Him.
Religious leaders did not establish His identity.
Popularity did not redirect His mission.
Rejection did not redefine Him.
In His human life, Jesus’ dependence upon the Father did not weaken faithful agency. It rightly ordered it. He trusted the Father, sought His will, surrendered obediently to Him, and carried out the mission entrusted to Him in the power of the Spirit.
The most fully human life revealed in Scripture is therefore not autonomous life. It is life wholly yielded to God. And because Jesus is not merely our example but our living Lord, discipleship becomes the lifelong journey of living as Jesus lived: Be with Jesus → Become like Jesus → Do as He did. We never exhaust that journey because we never exhaust Christ.
From the beginning, human beings were created in God’s image and entrusted with meaningful responsibility. We were made to cultivate, steward, govern, love, obey, and participate meaningfully in God’s world.
God’s purpose is not permanent immaturity. He is forming mature sons and daughters in Christ—people increasingly capable of carrying responsibility, exercising meaningful agency, loving sacrificially, and participating faithfully in His purposes.
But maturity does not mean self-sufficiency. Biblical maturity is increasing capacity for faithful responsibility through deeper dependence upon God. Dependence and agency are not opposites. Right dependence makes rightly ordered agency possible.
As we remain with Jesus, the Spirit renews our minds, reorders our loves, purifies our motives, and reshapes our responses so that faithful action increasingly grows from a life aligned with Him.
That gives us a way to examine formation:
Are my ways of seeing becoming more like Jesus’?
Are my loves being reordered?
Are my motives becoming purer?
Are those interior changes producing more faithful choices?
Christian formation does not end with insight. Truth must reach the places where we actually speak, forgive, spend, serve, lead, love, and obey.
When we look honestly at ourselves, we can become troubled by what we see.
Our thoughts wander.
Our assumptions become distorted.
Our emotions can govern us.
We make commitments and break them.
We sincerely want to follow Jesus and still discover old ways of thinking and living operating almost like an autopilot. We may wish God would simply take over. Why not remove every evil thought? Why not eliminate temptation? Why not correct every distorted perception before it affects us? Why not prevent every choice we will later regret?
God certainly intervenes. He warns, speaks through His Word, convicts and empowers through His Spirit, redirects, disciplines, protects, and gives grace. But ordinarily He does not eliminate meaningful human participation. Instead Scripture calls us to renew our minds, take thoughts captive, put off the old self, put on the new, walk by the Spirit, and remain in Christ.
God acts first and continues to act within us. Our participation is responsive, grace-enabled participation—not autonomous self-improvement. Paul captures that relationship well: “...continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.” — Philippians 2:12b–13 NIV. God works within us. Therefore we respond.
Cain provides an early and sobering picture of responsibility. Before Cain kills Abel, God warns him that sin is crouching at the door and desires to have him, but that he must rule over it (Genesis 4:7). God reveals. God warns. Cain remains responsible for his response.
The point is not that human beings can conquer sin by unaided willpower. Cain’s story shows something darker than that. It shows that God addresses us as responsible creatures even while Scripture as a whole makes clear how deeply we need His grace, His Spirit, and ultimately Christ.
Even failure can therefore become a place of learning:
What did this choice reveal about what I believed?
What was I wanting or trusting?
What fruit did this way produce?
What might Jesus be teaching me to see differently?
The goal is not endless self-analysis. It is honest realignment with Jesus.
Some truths cannot be fully understood merely by hearing them. They must be walked.
Jesus says: “Anyone who chooses to do the will of God will find out whether my teaching comes from God or whether I speak on my own.” — John 7:17 NIV. Jesus is speaking in a particular dispute about the source of His teaching, but the principle matters: willing obedience and spiritual understanding are not unrelated.
We can study forgiveness, but actually forgiving teaches us something study alone cannot.
We can talk about trust, but walking with Jesus through uncertainty teaches us what trust means.
We can understand generosity, but giving may expose how tightly possessions hold our hearts.
Jesus therefore calls us not merely to hear His words but to put them into practice (Matthew 7:24–27). As we do, our perception changes. We discover where our assumptions were distorted and increasingly learn that His way corresponds to reality as God designed it.
Discipleship develops a continuing rhythm:
Listen to Jesus. Respond faithfully. Pay attention to the fruit. Learn. Realign. Walk again.
We are not merely accumulating answers. We are becoming people who know how to keep on learning from Jesus.
The biblical story reveals the human problem with painful clarity:
Abraham believed and sometimes feared.
Moses knew God deeply and still failed.
David loved God and also sinned grievously.
Solomon possessed extraordinary wisdom and became deeply compromised.
Again and again we see genuine faithfulness, but no complete embodiment of humanity as God intended it.
Then Jesus comes. In Jesus Christ, God gives us not merely another teacher or leader but the true and faithful human life toward which the biblical story has been pointing. Jesus shows us the new humanity. We see how He loves, handles temptation, exercises authority, responds to opposition, treats enemies, suffers, forgives, and obeys.
Yet Jesus is more than a model standing at a distance. He is the living Lord who calls us to Himself.
We are invited first to be with Him — to behold Him, listen to Him, remain in Him, learn from Him, and trust Him.
As we remain with Him, the Spirit forms us to become like Him — renewing our minds, reordering our loves, purifying our motives, and forming His character within us.
From that transformed interior life, we increasingly learn to do as Jesus did — responding to God in faithful obedience and participating in His mission.
Jesus reveals both the life and the way into the life. And Jesus Himself shows us how faithful human life is lived in communion with God. He withdraws to pray. He seeks the Father. He lives in communion with Him. Under enormous pressure, He entrusts Himself to the Father and remains obedient.
The perfect human life is not autonomous life. It is life wholly given to God. Mature human agency reaches its fullest expression not in independence from God, but in faithful dependence upon Him. Jesus does not merely show us the destination. He brings us into it.
This helps us distinguish an important movement within formation. Here, “awakening” is not being used as a technical synonym for regeneration or conversion. It names the coming-to-see of who Jesus truly is and what His identity means for the whole of one’s life.
For some, that recognition comes suddenly:
The Samaritan woman encounters Jesus and soon runs toward her community saying, “Come, see.”
Zacchaeus encounters Jesus, and his relationship with wealth is immediately challenged and reordered.
The Gerasene man moves from profound bondage to restored life and is quickly entrusted with a new responsibility.
Paul’s encounter with the risen Jesus radically redirects his life.
These stories differ greatly, and we should not force them into one conversion pattern. What they share is a striking reorientation around Jesus. Sometimes the light comes on with startling speed. But that is not everyone’s story. For many, awakening unfolds gradually. A person may admire Jesus for a long time before truly trusting Him. They may appreciate His teaching, participate in church, pray, serve, and follow Him in some areas while still misunderstanding what life with Him fundamentally means.
They may approach Christianity mainly through self-effort: Try harder. Become better. Stop doing bad things. Make God happy. Or perhaps Jesus remains one important influence among several. Then something begins to settle: He is not merely a good teacher. He is Savior and King. He is Lord. He is worthy. He is the governing center through whom the rest of life must be understood. For some, that recognition comes quickly. For others, over months or years.
Awakening describes the coming-to-see, not how quickly it happens. And even mature disciples continue discovering what Jesus’ lordship means in places they had not yet noticed or surrendered.
Awakening is already formational. Perception changes. Trust shifts. Old assumptions are questioned. False centers begin losing their authority. But once something becomes increasingly settled — Jesus is Savior and King; my life belongs under His loving reign — the lifelong work continues.
Formation is the Spirit-enabled process by which the whole person increasingly comes into alignment with Jesus:
. Our minds are renewed so we learn to perceive reality through Him.
Our loves are reordered so what He treasures increasingly becomes precious to us.
Our motives are purified so faithful actions increasingly arise from a heart being formed in His likeness.
Our habits, desires, bodies, relationships, and responses are reshaped.
God is the transforming agent; we are active, responsive participants in His grace.
Hebrews describes mature people as those who “by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.” — Hebrews 5:14 NIV. Something has developed within them through practiced discernment. God’s goal is not merely: “I prevented you from making the wrong choice.” It is increasingly: “You are becoming the kind of person who can discern what is good and faithfully choose it with Me.” That takes time. Some chains fall quickly when we see the truth. Others loosen through years of learning to live according to what we have seen.
So we can say:
Awakening is the coming-to-see — sometimes suddenly, but most often gradually — that Jesus is Savior and King and worthy of becoming the governing center of life.
Formation is the lifelong work in which that reality, through the Spirit and our responsive participation, increasingly orders the whole person.
Awakening can redirect a life. Formation teaches us to keep walking with Jesus in that direction. And as disciples mature, they become increasingly capable of helping others do the same — not by controlling their choices or supplying every answer, but by helping them recognize what is governing them and return to Jesus. From there, they can learn to listen, obey, and realign.
This brings us back to Lucia. Imagine if her entire strategy had been: Do not care about the stickers. Do not let that dot bother you. Do not get excited about that star. Her attention would still belong to the stickers. Instead, she spent time with the Woodcarver. Again and again. She listened. His words became more weighty than the judgments around her. And the stickers had less power to define her.
That is a beautiful picture of formation. For us, the deeper reality is not simply learning more positive thoughts about ourselves. It is remaining with Jesus so that His words and His character increasingly reshape how we see reality and who we are becoming.
Praise still comes. Criticism still comes. Approval and rejection still surround us. But increasingly, they do not attach themselves to our identity in the same way. That does not mean other people’s words become meaningless. Encouragement matters. Correction matters. Love matters. And criticism may sometimes contain truth we need to receive. The difference is that other people’s words no longer possess ultimate authority to define us. There is a difference between receiving someone’s words and requiring those words to tell us who we are.
The more deeply Lucia receives the Woodcarver’s words, the less power the stickers have to define her. And for us, Paul gives similar language: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly...” — Colossians 3:16 ESV. Not merely visit. Dwell. Take up residence. Let the words of Jesus become so deeply rooted within us that other voices increasingly lose their power to tell us who we are.
The Christian answer to false formation is not merely resisting what the world says. It is being with Jesus and becoming deeply formed by His voice. When a sticker still sticks, notice what gave it power and bring that honestly to Jesus. Listen again to His words, respond faithfully, and pay attention to the fruit that follows. Then keep walking. That is apprenticeship.
Presence with Jesus makes formation possible.
Formation into His likeness produces increasing freedom.
Freedom opens space for increasingly faithful action.
As we depend more rightly upon God, we can depend less wrongly upon everything else. We can increasingly...
Love people without using them to validate us.
Serve without needing applause.
Receive criticism without collapsing.
Receive praise without feeding upon it.
Set healthy boundaries.
Stand alone when faithfulness requires it.
Participate deeply in community without demanding that other people give us what only God can provide.
This is not isolation. We remain deeply interdependent with God’s people.
Christian self-government therefore does not mean: I govern myself independently of God.
It means: Under the loving reign of Jesus, I increasingly become capable of governing what God has entrusted to me. My thoughts. My desires. My body. My words. My emotions. My relationships. My responsibilities. My response to praise and criticism. My exercise of authority.
And even here we remain dependent. We need Jesus. We need His Word. We need the Holy Spirit. We need God’s people. We need grace. Dependence does not eliminate responsible agency. It forms and sustains it. The person who appears increasingly self-governed is becoming that way precisely because they are increasingly surrendered to the government of Jesus. God is not raising autonomous rulers. Nor is He keeping His people in permanent immaturity. He is forming mature sons and daughters — people capable of meaningful responsibility precisely because they remain rooted in Him.
And mature disciples increasingly help others enter that same life. Not by making people dependent upon them. But, like Lucia pointing Punchinello toward the Woodcarver, by helping others find their way to Jesus — the One who can actually form them. The goal is not merely people who know what we know. It is people who know how to return to Jesus, learn from Him, and realign when they wander — then help others do the same.
The stars and dots may still be offered. Praise still comes. Criticism still comes. Approval and rejection still surround us. But increasingly, they do not stick in the same way. Not because we have learned to need nobody. But because we have been spending time with Someone. We have listened to Jesus. We have learned His character. We have discovered His love. We have entrusted ourselves increasingly to His loving reign. And His Word has begun to dwell richly within us.
Then we keep learning:
We keep discovering places still needing His light.
We keep surrendering what we had not yet recognized.
We keep learning to live as He lived.
And as we mature, we help others do the same.
What appears from the outside to be remarkable independence is actually something much better: a mature human life deeply dependent upon God, formed by His Word and Spirit, and increasingly aligned with reality under the loving reign of Christ.
We never graduate from life with Jesus. We never exhaust the inexhaustible Christ. We simply become more mature apprentices — better able to follow Jesus faithfully, realign when we wander, and help others walk with Him. That is not independence from God. It is freedom through dependence.