Chapter 12From Nuclear Reactor to Under Construction

Lord, Change Me from the Inside Out

When did prayer begin changing my response before it changed my circumstances?

A church leader who taught our discipleship class once told us:

“It’s easier to act like a Christian than to react like a Christian.”

I took that to heart.

On occasion, I had become a chronic overreactor. With my short fuse, “nuclear reactor” might have been the better description.

Much like my dad.

Over decades of learning to forgive, I gradually discovered that the sooner I could begin releasing resentment, the better—for the turbulent waters of a difficult relationship and for my own peace of mind.

I share more about that journey in Chapter 14, “Forgiveness.”

My prayers began to change. Instead of only asking God to change the other person or fix the circumstances, I humbled myself, set aside my self-centered pride, and asked:

“Lord, change me from the inside out.”

There were temptations I could resist. I intentionally stayed away from drinking, smoking, and drugs. For honesty’s sake, I did try marijuana as a teenager. But when I felt myself losing self-control, I handed the joint back to my best friend, who had offered to share it.

Yet avoiding those things did not mean I was a well-trained overcomer.

I struggled to give up partying and promiscuity. My selfish, reckless behavior devastated my first marriage.

That is painful to admit. But a testimony about change must be honest about what needed changing.

As I turned toward God, He began bringing good out of the damage and regret. I became more involved in church and was entrusted with leadership and opportunities to serve.

I mentored people of different ages. I directed children’s plays at Drama Camp and taught children attending the after-school Good News Club. I led Bible studies in English and Spanish and facilitated DivorceCare and Single & Parenting classes.

Some of those opportunities reached into the very places where I had struggled.

After all, I was a single dad learning the complex role of Mr. Mom.

I even drove a Mom-mobile.

Also known as a minivan.

Serving gave me opportunities to practice what I was learning: listen, be patient, take responsibility, and make room for someone else’s needs.

Prayer was becoming a pattern that shaped my responses.

The change was gradual. Surrendering my will to God, abiding in Christ, and learning to obey Him brought a freedom I had not found by simply doing whatever I wanted.

Jesus connects knowing the truth that makes us free with continuing in His word. That connection matters to me: freedom grows as we receive His truth and learn to live by it. — John 8:31–32

Am I a completely renewed and revitalized man?

God has changed me in meaningful ways. And I am still under construction.

Would you like to know the title of the first children’s play I directed?

“Kids Under Construction.”

Apparently, the director needed the lesson too.

We are works in progress—clay in the Heavenly Potter’s hands. I still need His correction, His patience, and His grace.

That discipleship lesson continues to challenge me:

“It’s easier to act like a Christian than to react like a Christian.”

So I keep bringing my reactions to Jesus.

“Lord, change me from the inside out—and let that change show when I am caught off guard.”

I have said in more than one spirited discussion, “I’m not here to prove myself right or win an argument—especially over a matter of opinion. I’m here to show how Jesus renews minds and transforms lives, beginning with mine.”

There may be strength in numbers, but every number represents a person—a living soul, never a point on my scoreboard.

My desire is to see Heaven full and Hell empty. So when I speak, am I helping someone draw closer to Jesus?

If I win the argument but wound the person, what have I won?

We often pray because we want something to change.

A circumstance.

A relationship.

A diagnosis.

A decision.

A deadline.

A burden.

A future.

And sometimes those things do change.

But prayer can also change something closer.

Us.

Slowly.

Quietly.

Repeatedly.

The person who once reacted instantly begins to pause.

The person who worried first begins to pray first.

The person who grasped begins to release.

The person who complained begins to notice grace.

The person who rushed begins to discern.

The person who held resentment begins to soften.

The person who feared the future begins to remember past faithfulness.

Prayer changes the pattern.

Not all at once.

But over time.

Sometimes the answer to prayer is not only a changed circumstance.
It is a changed pattern.

From Reaction to Response

A reaction is fast.

A response is formed.

Prayer creates space between impulse and action.

That space can become holy.

Instead of reacting immediately, we pause.

Instead of saying the first thing we feel, we ask:

What is true?

What is loving?

What is wise?

What would faithfulness look like here?

That pause does not make us passive.

It makes us less controlled by the moment.

From Worry to Surrender

Worry rehearses what might happen.

Prayer brings what might happen to God.

That distinction matters.

Prayer does not always remove uncertainty.

But it can remove uncertainty from the throne.

The unknown no longer gets to become our god.

We can say:

I do not know what happens next.

But I know Who is with me.

That is surrender.

Not certainty.

Not control.

Surrender.

Prayer may not remove the unknown.
It can remove the unknown from the throne.

From Control to Trust

Control asks:

How do I make this turn out the way I want?

Trust asks:

What is mine to do faithfully, and what must I release?

Prayer exposes where control has become exhausting.

We begin to recognize that some outcomes were never ours to manage.

That realization can feel frightening at first.

Then freeing.

Trust does not mean inactivity.

It means responsibility without pretending to be sovereign.

From Complaint to Gratitude

The circumstances may not change.

But the lens can.

Prayer creates room to see what complaint misses.

Provision.

People.

Protection.

Progress.

Grace.

A problem can be real without becoming the whole story.

That is one of gratitude’s greatest gifts.

Prayer does not require us to deny what is wrong.
It helps us remember what is still true.

From Isolation to Intercession

Prayer turns us outward.

At first, many prayers are about us.

Our needs.

Our fears.

Our hopes.

Our questions.

But over time, prayer enlarges the circle.

We begin to notice others.

Their pain.

Their needs.

Their names.

Intercession changes the pattern from:

Lord, help me.

to:

Lord, help us.

And eventually:

Lord, use me.

From Impulse to Discernment

Prayer slows the automatic yes.

The automatic no.

The automatic fear.

The automatic pursuit.

We begin to ask:

Is this wise?

Is this necessary?

Is this mine to do?

What fruit will this produce?

Discernment becomes less occasional and more habitual.

Not because every answer becomes obvious.

Because the questions become better.

From Resentment to Release

Prayer has a way of bringing people into the room we would rather leave outside.

The person who hurt us.

Disappointed us.

Ignored us.

Used us.

Misunderstood us.

Sometimes we do not feel ready to forgive.

Prayer may begin before readiness.

“Lord, I do not know how to release this.”

That is still prayer.

The pattern begins changing when we stop feeding the wound as our identity.

This does not erase boundaries.

It does not remove consequences.

It does not demand unsafe reconciliation.

It begins with releasing vengeance to God.

Prayer can soften the heart without weakening wisdom.

Misunderstood—and Still Dancing

It’s been said that true freedom includes giving people permission to misunderstand you.

I understand the relief in that thought. I also know how difficult it can be to live it.

Listen, if Jesus Christ—the chosen One, the perfect One—was and still is misunderstood, any one of us will be misunderstood.

Even those closest to Him did not always understand His teaching.

“And He said to them, ‘Do you not understand this parable? How will you understand all the parables?’”

—Mark 4:13

Jesus then explained the parable of the sower. Their lack of understanding became an opportunity for further teaching.

That gives me something to practice, too: patience with people who do not understand me—and humility when I am the one missing the point.

Being misunderstood concerned me so much because I wanted everyone to be joyful around me, without becoming a people pleaser.

See the dilemma in that?

I could offer kindness. I could explain my intentions. I could listen and make amends when my words or actions caused hurt. But I could not make everyone understand me.

An old song brings that feeling back.

I would sing and disco dance to Santa Esmeralda’s performance of “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood”:

“I’m just a soul whose intentions are good. Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.”

Since childhood, music and dancing had brought me so much joy that I wanted to share the experience with girls.

At first, I was rejected more than accepted.

I kept trying and told myself:

“What a shame—they don’t know what they’re missing.”

Then I would find a corner—not to sulk, but to lose myself in the music and dance alone, my eyes closed, almost as if in a trance.

Occasionally, a girl would notice. She would tap me on the shoulder or simply take my hand.

I would open my eyes and smile as we danced together.

Suddenly, she discovered something new.

And I was then—understood.

Someone declining a dance did not necessarily mean she misunderstood me. She had every right to decline. But that memory helps me recognize how much I wanted the joy inside me to be seen and shared.

Being welcomed onto the dance floor was a lovely gift.

Learning to live graciously when understanding never came required something deeper.

Over time, resilience and forgiveness became a dynamic duo within me, sustained by a greater duo: God’s grace and mercy.

Resilience helped me keep offering kindness after disappointment. Forgiveness helped me release resentment when misunderstanding became hurtful. God’s grace and mercy reminded me how patiently He was still working with me.

The more we practice goodness and patience while abiding in Christ, the more readily those responses can grow. We remain learners, receiving His correction as well as His comfort.

Prayer gives me somewhere to bring the ache of being misunderstood.

“Lord, You know my heart. Show me what needs correcting. Help me explain what I can, listen to what I should, and surrender what I cannot control.”

I am still learning.

But I do not have to wait for everyone’s approval before receiving the joy God gives me today.

From Self-Reliance to Abiding

Perhaps one of prayer’s deepest pattern changes is this:

We stop living as though everything depends on us.

We still work.

Plan.

Prepare.

Decide.

Act.

But dependence changes.

Prayer reminds us that strength has a Source.

Wisdom has a Source.

Grace has a Source.

Fruit has a Source.

We are not asked to produce spiritual life by sheer effort.

We are invited to abide.

Abide first.
Fruit follows.

The Pattern Beneath the Pattern

By now, another pattern should be becoming visible.

Opening Scripture.

Leading Question.

Story.

Reflection.

Application.

Prayer.

Closing Scripture.

Why repeat it?

Because formation often comes through faithful repetition.

Scripture frames us.

Questions awaken us.

Stories humanize truth.

Reflection slows us down.

Application moves us.

Prayer returns us to God.

And Scripture gets the final word.

The structure itself becomes a spiritual rhythm.

Reflection

What Has Prayer Already Changed?

Look back.

Not at the answers.

At yourself.

Ask:

Do I react differently than I used to?

Do I notice grace more quickly?

Do I seek wisdom sooner?

Do I surrender faster?

Do I forgive more freely?

Do I listen better?

Do I pray for others more often?

Do I trust God in places where I once panicked?

Growth is not always dramatic.

Sometimes it is simply recognizing:

I did not respond this time the way I would have before.

That matters.

Same Feet. Different Concern.

An old disco memory recently got my feet moving again: David Naughton’s “Makin’ It.” I used to dance to that song back in the day.

Now, remembering Jesus’ warning about deception, I sometimes hear a questionable news report and find myself singing my own little title change:

“Fakin’ It.”

Same feet. Different concern.

But before I point at someone else’s screen, I need to examine my own thinking.

Am I seeking truth—or just something that agrees with me?

A familiar tune can get my feet moving. A familiar claim can get my head nodding. Neither proves I’m going in the right direction.

Lord, help me recognize deception—including the kind I am most willing to believe.

What Are We Practicing?

Most people practice to achieve honorably. Others practice to deceive. Both are rehearsing. But for what—and for whom?

Practice shapes more than performance. Our daily choices shape our character.

As Dr. Pete Tokar says, “What we do daily prepares us for eternity. Make it count.”

Scripture assures us that God works all things together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28)—and that setbacks can become reversal and renewal in His hands. So we keep our eyes on Jesus, who endured the cross for the joy set before Him (Hebrews 12:2).

We cannot rehearse every circumstance. We can practice responding with truth, love, patience, and faith.

What am I practicing today that I want to carry into tomorrow—and what needs to change?

A Reason, a Consequence, and a Redeemer

“Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

—Romans 8:1

“Things happen for a reason.”

I hear that often. Sometimes it expresses hope. Other times, it carries guilt, shame, resignation—or even pride. Before answering, I try to understand what the person means.

Are they blaming God? Blaming themselves? Excusing a choice? Or struggling to believe that anything good can still come?

Romans 8:1 reminds us that those in Christ are not condemned. Romans 8:28 assures us that God works all things together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.

That does not mean every event is good, or that God caused every painful thing. It means He can work even through what wounds us. The next verse points toward the good He is forming: becoming more like His Son.

Sometimes we suffer because of our choices. Sometimes because of someone else’s. And sometimes we suffer without knowing why. We should be careful about calling another person’s pain a punishment.

But when the responsibility is ours, grace gives us courage to face it.

The AWOL King

During my military academy high school days, I had acquired a less-than-distinguished title: the “AWOL king.”

On the first day of one school year, the Commandant warned me not to go absent without leave.

Did I listen to reason or obey his warning?

Nope.

The next day, I was called into his office.

“Well, son, I warned you. Now you have two choices: get expelled and go home, or accept the severe punishment I command, made to order just for you!”

“I’ll take the punishment, whatever it is, Sir.”

I had to run for eight hours, with a ten-minute break every hour. Afterward, I could hardly walk for days. The Commandant arranged for my meals to be brought from the Mess Hall and for assistance getting to the latrine and back.

It was an extreme punishment. Yet the lesson about choices stayed with me:

Free will allows us to make choices. It does not give us control over their consequences.

I had ignored the warning. I certainly had not ordered the consequences.

Still Under Construction

Jesus told us that we would have trouble. He also offered us His peace. God’s promise never to forsake us does not mean an easy life; it means we do not face life alone.

So, sing with me:

🎼 This is the day that the Lord has made.
I shall rejoice and be glad—and grateful—in it. 🎶

Every new day is a gift from God. We humans sometimes make a mess of it. Still, His mercy meets us there.

Our failures need confession, not concealment. Our shame needs the assurance of Romans 8:1. Our pride needs humility. Our discouragement needs the hope of Romans 8:28.

And when we cannot yet see the fruit of faith, hope, and love, we can keep walking with Him. Some fruit grows quietly before it becomes visible.

We are all under construction.

The final word belongs to God.

Reflection

Am I using “things happen for a reason” to avoid responsibility—or to remember that God can still work in circumstances I do not understand?

A Noble Prayer

A short daily prayer I wrote in the 1990s:

“Thank You, LORD…
For this new day.
For Your sights that I see;
Your sounds that I hear;
Your air that I breathe;
Your Word that I need;
Your Spirit in me;
and Your reason why I am here.”

Application

Your Turn

Choose one recurring pattern you want prayer to reshape.

Write:

Old Pattern

What do I usually do?

New Pattern

What would a more faithful response look like?

Prayer Cue

What short prayer can interrupt the old pattern?

Examples:

Before reacting:

“Lord, slow me down.”

Before worrying:

“Lord, I give You what I cannot control.”

Before complaining:

“Lord, show me what grace I am missing.”

Before deciding:

“Lord, give me wisdom.”

Before resentment grows:

“Lord, help me release what I cannot carry well.”

Choose one recurring situation that triggers an unhelpful reaction. Before responding, pause and pray: ‘Lord, change me from the inside out.’ Then choose one response that expresses patience, truth, and love. If you fall short, acknowledge it, make amends where needed, and practice again.

Use the prayer cue repeatedly.

Let repetition become formation.

A Noble Prayer

From Nuclear Reactor to Under Construction