Becoming More Like Christ
Let’s just get one thing out of the way: becoming more like Christ isn’t cute.
It’s not a checklist. It’s not a daily planner with gold-embossed verses and self-affirmations. It’s not about being the nicest person in the room or the one who volunteers the most at church. And it’s definitely not about pretending like you’ve got it all together.
If we’re being real—which we should be—becoming like Jesus will mess with you. It’ll expose you. It’ll stretch you past what you thought you could handle. And honestly? It’s supposed to. Because if the goal is Christ, then the path is crucifixion. Not literal, but that dying-to-self stuff isn’t a metaphor. You will lose things. You will be misunderstood. You will have to lay down parts of yourself that you actually kind of liked. That’s part of the deal.
And that’s why most people don’t really want it. Not the real thing. They want the peace. They want the joy. They want the blessing. But the whole take up your cross and follow Me part? Not as much.
I get it. I’ve dodged it too. Still do sometimes. There are days when I’d rather just slap a Bible verse on my attitude and call it spiritual growth. But that’s not what Jesus did. And if we’re serious about becoming like Him, then we’ve got to stop playing dress-up and start going deep.
So, how does that actually happen? Not in theory. Not in a sermon. But in a regular, lived-in life where you’ve got bills, kids, doubts, temptations, and a thousand reasons to stay stuck?
Let’s talk about it.
First: Stop Trying to Be Good.
Yep. You heard me. Stop trying to be good.
The point of following Christ isn’t to become a better version of yourself. It’s to become a different person altogether. A new creation. That means the old you doesn’t just get upgraded—it gets buried.
And here’s the thing: trying to behave your way into Christ-likeness will wear you out. You’ll end up exhausted, fake, or smug. Sometimes all three. Because when the power source is your willpower, the fruit won’t last. You might clean the outside of the cup, but the inside? Still filthy.
Jesus didn’t come to improve you. He came to replace you—with Himself.
So instead of white-knuckling your way to holiness, start surrendering. Ask Him to kill off what needs to die. Pride. Self-protection. Bitterness. All of it. He won’t rip it from your hands. But He’ll take it if you offer it.
Second: Get Real About What’s In the Way.
Here’s a truth you won’t find in a lot of devotionals: some people are praying for spiritual growth when what they really need is to forgive their dad.
Or break up with the person who’s dragging them back into sin.
Or actually face their addiction instead of hiding behind church activities.
Becoming like Christ isn’t just about reading your Bible more. It’s about confronting the stuff that’s quietly killing you inside—the stuff you don’t want to admit is there.
And look, that takes guts. It takes honesty. It takes letting the Holy Spirit wreck your illusions and point out where you’re still walking in darkness, even though you know all the right religious words. But if you want to grow, really grow, then you’ve got to stop pretending and start confessing.
Not just to God. Sometimes to other people too.
Third: Embrace the Boring Stuff.
This one’s going to be hard to hear, but spiritual transformation doesn’t usually happen in fireworks and revelations. It happens in the mundane.
Waking up early to pray when you’d rather sleep. Showing kindness to someone who doesn’t deserve it. Choosing not to defend yourself in that argument. Reading Scripture even when it feels dry. Saying no to the second helping. Not because food is bad—but because you’re learning self-control.
That’s where the chiseling happens. In the moments no one sees. And yeah, it feels small. But don’t mistake consistency for weakness. A daily habit of dying to yourself is what shapes the kind of person who can walk like Christ did.
There are no shortcuts. Just repetition. Faithfulness. And grace for the days you blow it.
Fourth: Suffering Will Teach You More Than Success Ever Could.
Look, I wish this wasn’t true. But it is.
You’ll learn more about the heart of Jesus in the valley than you ever will on the mountaintop. When the money dries up. When the prayers go unanswered. When someone betrays you. When you’re hurting and He doesn’t “fix it” right away.
It’s there—when you’ve got nothing left to offer and no strength left to fake it—that Christ shows up in a way that changes you. Not always visibly. Not even emotionally. But deep down, at the marrow of who you are.
Because suffering, when you don’t waste it, scrapes off everything that isn’t Jesus. Your pride. Your image. Your idols. It hurts. But it heals too.
He became a man of sorrows. Don’t be surprised when sorrow shapes you into something holy.
Fifth: Don’t Do It Alone. Seriously.
You cannot become like Christ in isolation. You can’t. And I say that as someone who has tried.
Lone-wolf Christianity is just pride with a Bible verse.
You need people. People who can call you out, pray you through, and walk with you when you’re crawling. Not surface-level Sunday chit-chat. I’m talking real community. The kind that knows your junk and still sticks around.
God built us to grow together, not apart. And yeah, people are messy. But you are too. So show up. Be honest. And let iron sharpen iron.
And if I could say one last thing—it’s this:
Don’t fake it.
Don’t pretend to be further along than you are. Don’t nod and smile through a spiritual life you secretly hate. Don’t bury your questions. Don’t perform for the church crowd. God isn’t impressed. He wants your heart, not your highlight reel.
Becoming like Christ means being fully His. And that only happens when you’re fully you with Him. The raw, honest, unfiltered version. That’s where transformation starts. That’s where grace lands. That’s where the Holy Spirit gets to work.
Not when you’re perfect. But when you’re willing.
So if you’re still reading this, maybe that’s you. Maybe you’re tired of trying to fake it. Maybe you want something deeper. Realer. Harder, yes—but more worth it.
Good.
Because He’s not looking for polished. He’s looking for surrendered.
You want to be more like Jesus?
Lay it down. Pick up your cross. And follow.
Not perfectly. But honestly.
And that’s enough.
