When Change Hurts

Reading from Genesis 17:9–14, I was struck by God's covenant with Abraham, especially the instruction on circumcision. After declaring His blessings and promises, God speaks of Abraham's part in the covenant: every male among them was to be circumcised. At first glance, this might seem like a peculiar choice. But the more I reflected on it and researched, the more I saw depth and significance in this act.

Why circumcision? Why was this chosen as the outward sign of a holy covenant? There are many reasons, but what caught my attention was the role of pain or hurt in driving seriousness about the covenant.

It Involved blood – this is what truly gripped me. The shedding of blood made it serious, binding, and sacred. It wasn’t to be taken lightly. And just as the old covenant was sealed with blood, so is the new covenant through Jesus' sacrifice.

This act of circumcision brought me to a deeper meditation on the role of pain in change.

Change, especially spiritual change, is not always comfortable. In fact, real transformation often hurts.

Pain shows the seriousness of the process. When blood is involved, the matter is no longer casual.

Pain leaves a scar, a reminder of the commitment and a deterrent from returning to past ways.

Change without any discomfort? Perhaps it is short-lived.

I was reminded of the phrase: "The cross before the crown." Even Jesus' act of salvation involved pain – the greatest kind of hurt imaginable. Why then do we expect our own journey of sanctification to be without cost?

This thought helps me understand church discipline as well. It isn’t punitive. It’s redemptive. Designed to bring growth. As Proverbs says, "Discipline your child in the way he should go." Correction, while painful, can lead us to wisdom.

Similarly, suffering catalyzes growth. In sickness, injustice, or struggle with sin, suffering drives us to our knees. It draws us to God, and that very desperation creates intimacy and transformation.

Sometimes the incision is necessary to drive us away from sin and closer to Christ. It's the unfortunate consequence of our fallen world, but also a marker of the difference between life on earth and the life to come in heaven.

Reading about Ravi Zacharias' fall recently brought this home to me. At the height of public success, he lived a double life. I wonder, had he brought it to light himself, sought help and repentance, gone through the pain of exposure—could there have been true healing? The pain would have been immense, but redemptive.

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My takeaway? If it is hurting, there’s a good chance you are changing. And for a Christian, that change is towards Christlikeness.

God has a way of turning the negative (pain) into a positive (growth). That’s what He does best.

And if you're wondering: If I’m comfortable, does that mean I’m stagnant? Maybe. Comfort doesn’t always mean health. Growth often means discomfort.

The Bible is full of stories:

Joseph: from pride to the pit to prison to being a savior. The hurt shaped him.

Moses: from royalty to a 40-year wilderness journey. The pain made him humble and ready.

Our Christian life is counter-cultural. That alone will hurt. But that pain is the soil in which spiritual maturity grows.

One last thought: if you're struggling with sin, maybe your prayer needs to change. Ask God not just for deliverance, but for suffering if that’s what it takes to grow. Because suffering births change.

And that change? It's worth every scar. Because it's making us like Jesus.