Conquered by Christ

What does it mean to be "conformed to Christ?"

Sometimes, I think, with the emphasis on justification in Protestantism, I've been a little bit guilty of making this all about justification/conversion/salvation. For instance, when we're saved the old Adam dies so that we might rise with the New Adam, Christ.

But this isn't just a one-time thing. Even Luther recognized that this "dying" and "rising" pattern isn't just what typifies our initial conversion, it's a daily reality.

In his homily yesterday, Pope Leo XIV put it this way: "And it’s truly like this: we are all the more capable of proclaiming the Gospel the more we allow ourselves to be conquered and transformed by Him, allowing the power of the Spirit to purify us in our innermost being, making our words simple and sincere, our desires honest and pure, and our actions generous."

One thing I really like about that quote is that the passive verbs (what we allow to happen to us isn’t really our doing, it’s our receiving of these actions) involves both a conquering and a transformation power in the Holy Spirit. It’s not surface-level change either. Being more “like Christ” isn’t just about wearing the right mask, putting on a good face, or wearing you Sunday best. It’s a conquering and transforming that happens “in our innermost being.”

In other words, it hits us at the core. It’s foundational. The conquering has to happen because whatever foundation we have going on in our lives, whatever we’re standing up, supports a whole lot of “construction” that we’ve built, things that the Spirit will tear down and must “conquer” so that the new foundation can begin, that what’s broken down can be transformed and built again on the proper, solid foundation that’s Christ Himself.

The apostle Paul provides the theological framework for this concept in Romans 8:29: "For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed (συμμόρφους/symmorphous) to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers" (Rom 8:29).

The Greek term συμμόρφους (symmorphous) is key here. It’s a compound word joining συν (syn, "with") and μορφή (morphē, "form"), indicating a profound sharing in the very form or nature of Christ.

This is not merely external imitation but ontological (at the core of our being) participation in Christ's nature. The verbal form συμμορφίζομαι (symmorphizomai) appears in Philippians 3:10, where Paul expresses his desire to "know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death (συμμορφιζόμενος τῷ θανάτῳ αὐτοῦ)."

This conformity doesn't happen instantly—it unfolds gradually, deliberately, divinely. It often happens through suffering. God uses our sorrows and sufferings to conquer and transform us. The Christian life is marked by this daily conquering and transforming, this steady reshaping of our character, desires, and actions to mirror those of Christ.

This process of transformation is not always easy or painless. It requires a constant surrendering of our will, our desires, and our very selves to the work of the Holy Spirit within us. It means letting go of our own plans and ambitions in order to make room for God's purpose to be fulfilled in us.

Being conformed to Christ is a lifelong journey, a continual process of dying to self and allowing Christ to live through us. It's about embodying His love, His compassion, His humility in every aspect of our lives.

There are moments when I feel the weight of my own brokenness and shortcomings, when I question if I will ever truly reflect the image of Christ. But then I remember that it is not by my own strength or efforts that this transformation occurs, but by the grace and power of God working within me.

Notice in Pope Leo XIV’s quote above, all I’m doing is “allowing,” that’s the only verb that applies to us. It’s a verb that’s really a non-action, it’s a ceasing of “doing” and “striving,” and more an openness. It’s the Spirit here who purifies our “innermost being” who makes our words simple and sincere, and purifies our desires so they’re pure and our actions remain generous rather than self-serving.

Now, you’d think there’d be a real freedom in recognizing that it’s the Spirit who’s doing all the work here. But even letting go, and doing nothing at all proves for many of us more difficult than actually striving, doing, laboring toward a goal. The key word (not in the quote but implied) is surrender.

And that act of “receiving” of “non-doing” and “being-done-to,” being conquered and transformed, is on the one hand the easiest thing ever to do (since we do nothing in the process) but is on the other hand the most difficult thing of all—because we refuse to take our hands off the wheel.

What changes all of that? Well, ultimately, it’s faith. Not just intellectual faith, but a genuine trust that refuses to allow the ego to rule the self, but sacrifices the ego to Christ, that allows the ego to be conquered, and thereby transformed.

This faith is something we can learn best from the humblest, from the most vulnerable—from children.

The child must trust his parents, that when they pick him up, they won’t drop him. They must trust for every daily need, particularly when they’re very young, because they can’t provide for themselves. They don’t feel terrified by this letting go because they have faith in their parents, they know their character and love, even if they don’t know much about their parents’ histories, their stories, their jobs, or whatever.

There’s a lot we don’t and can’t know about God. He’s infinite, and we’re finite, so that means we can’t ever possibly know God’s essence fully. But it also means we never graduate, we are always learning, growing, in our relationship with Him. Our faith likewise matures as we grow—but the fundamental part of faith, that child-like trust, doesn’t need to change. It’s all there at the beginning. For faith is simply being given to, simply receiving.

It’s allowing ourselves to be saved, to be conquered, to be transformed. Letting go of control doesn’t have to be scary. An infant doesn’t become terrified when his mother picks him up, because the infant knows he can trust that his mother’s arms will hold him close, that she won’t drop him.

Today’s memorial day. Who are the giants of the faith who’ve gone before you, the people whose example you find worthy to imitate? Paul exhorted his readers to imitate him insofar as he was imitating Christ… to follow as we take up our crosses, as we allow the Spirit to conquer and transform us, making us more-and-more in His image through our participation in His suffering and resurrection.

I’d also like to recognize today the news that Phil Robertson (of Duck Dynasty fame) has passed away. It just came across my newsfeed today. For years, he’s been a bold witness to Jesus. His story (you can see in the movie The Blind) is one of total surrender, of being conquered and transformed. While I don’t know how Phil would have felt about the Pope (he belonged to the Church of Christ, not the Catholic Church) I think these words reflect his journey well: “we are all the more capable of proclaiming the Gospel the more we allow ourselves to be conquered and transformed by Him.”

One thing Phil Robertson did very well was proclaim to Gospel—pretty much to anyone and everyone he met. He personally baptized hundreds of people, and those who say they were brought to faith on account of his witness are in the thousands, if not tens of thousands.

What a lot of people don’t know is that he was a highly educated man (had a Master’s degree), which people didn’t always realize since he always appeared with a long beard, and usually in camo. He was very intelligent, but he was also a common man, who had a real gift for translating the Gospel into language that just about anyone could grasp—but in such a way that it didn’t lose its depth at the same time.

So, I thank God today for witnesses like Phil Robertson who’ve finished the course of faith, who allowed the Spirit to conquer them and transform them into bold witnesses for the truth of Jesus Christ.

 

In Jesus' name,

Judah

 

Check out my newest book (paperback coming soon): Lux in Tenebris