It was one of those spontaneous decisions. “Let’s do dinner and the symphony!” Within a few hours we were ready to roll. After years of seemingly immutable incompatibility to be punctual, tonight we stepped in tight harmony. I saw my husband in the car reaching for his keys, which were always left on the dash, and I swiftly secured the last remaining door behind me. But, the keys are not on the dash tonight! They were inside our now impenetrable residence. I had recently put into practice state of the art safety tips guaranteeing foolproof entry, and there was no way a robber could enter our home; nor could we.

We firmly established that fact over the course of the next few frantic minutes while we double-checked every aperture around the house and every possible place we might have left a key hidden for such a moment as this. As the precious minutes ticked away, I looked up into the star-studded night and said, “Father what are we to do?” Quickly and quietly I was impressed to borrow our neighbor’s car. Soon we were zooming down the highway in plenty time to enjoy our spontaneous evening. (We would collect a house key from our daughter on the way home).

We sailed smoothly on in soft, unbroken harmony. The absence of railing or blaming was a silent celebration of our being conformed into the image of Christ. We marveled at the miracle of such a change for no one knew better than we did, the contrast that this event highlighted. Had this happened a few years before—especially when the children were with us—anger, frustration, and fear would have spilled out in vituperative accusation as each looked to the other to be in control and take the blame for things going wrong—a scenario as old as the Garden and as familiar as the finger pointing that followed the Fall.

But, following the flush of fulfillment came a wave of sadness that it had taken so long to arrive at such a victory. I flinched under the searing recollection of regrets and failures. I wondered why we couldn’t have spared ourselves the hurts, and our dear children the scars inflicted by impatience, insecurity, and ignorance. I pondered again why the process of sanctification is not instantaneous and the reflection of Christ not immediate upon conversion. It is said that if the butterfly is pried out of the cocoon prematurely it lies limp and lifeless. It requires the struggle of coming out of the cocoon in order to fly.

At one point in my Christian life, I would have defined frustrations and struggle as either failure on my part, or the work of the devil. So what had changed that I could release those memories and not permit their intrusion to rob the moment of its joy? It was my understanding that the Father really does work everything together for our good and that He alone is able to complete what he has begun in all of us. Were he to work overnight to negate all the nefarious traits in our lives, we would never know the need for utter dependence on the life within; in our weakness his strength is perfected. It is in this process that we come to comprehend that the life we now live is no longer ours but the life of another, namely Christ. If he chose to “zap” us into images of Christ, we would never experience the wonder of God’s respectful acknowledgment of our freedom of choice.

But, because we choose so consistently contrary to the divine will and ways, the sanctification process is protracted; and because we are too long woefully unaware who we are in Christ with all that that union entails—such as we are dead to sin. Yet despite stubborn choices and ignorance, the Triune God lovingly incorporates every failure into a grand and glorious design; to such love and omnipotence, I can gladly release my failures and trust them to be used in that eternal plan.

To catch the eternal perspective on our lives is liberating beyond expression. When I am free from the compulsion of having to define every life event within the parameters of time, I am also free to forgive myself my failings. Although I do wish I had more fully known these liberating truths when I was raising my children, I did the best I knew at that time. I have found myself attempting to redress my losses by being the perfect grandparent. Undoubtedly, I am wiser and more patient and they are the beneficiaries of that glimpse of Christ. However, when I still fail to be all that I should be, I am reminded of this: How are they ever going to come to know Me as the only unfailing one if you insist on trying to take that role? This is surely sweet rest, an easy yoke and a burden that is light.

And to lighten the weight of the heavy lesson learned, there was a humorous footnote to the Symphony saga. The car that our neighbor so kindly lent us bore a bumper sticker popular at the time among eco-friendly folks such as they. Love Your Mother it read, in letters as large as life! The reference to revere the earth (as opposed to a fish symbol!) did not assault our sensibilities or cause us embarrassment. We had thrown away the key that locked us into false religious scruples, and sped home celebrating another benchmark on the road to freedom.