When I think about how Christianity has changed my life, I’m often reminded of the relationship I have with my wife. We met in high school—she was a sophomore, I was a senior—and like any young guy trying to earn the attention of someone he admired, I did everything I could to impress her. I courted her with persistence and intention, doing all the little things that let her know she mattered. Back then, every gesture was about trying to “win” her. But now, after many years of marriage, I still find myself doing those same things—not because I’m trying to earn her love, but because I already have it. I can’t help it. When you love someone deeply, your actions flow naturally from that love. You’re not chasing something you don’t have; you’re expressing something that’s already real.
That’s what happened to me when I became a Christian. My wife and I weren’t believers for the first eighteen years of our relationship. It was her idea, really, to step into a church one Sunday. I went along, more to support her than anything else. But that decision set something in motion that I couldn’t ignore. Before I was ready to believe any of this, I wanted to know if it was true. So I did what detectives do—I investigated. I spent months combing through first-century history, reading everything I could about Jesus, and studying the reliability of the Gospels. I wanted to make a case, to know if I could trust what was written. It was hard work, but it mattered to me.
Eventually, the evidence became undeniable. Once I accepted that Jesus was who He claimed to be, everything in me shifted. I couldn’t believe that God would care so deeply about us that He’d step into His own creation and do what He did to rescue us. That kind of love can’t be earned; it’s freely given. Once you see it—once you know that your relationship with God is secure because of what He’s done, not what you’ve done—you start to live differently. You stop performing, and you start responding.
We all know what it’s like to do good things because someone’s watching—because the camera’s on. But that’s performance, not transformation. What God offers through grace isn’t a demand that we behave a certain way to earn His approval. It’s an invitation to respond to His love because it’s already been given. When you really understand that, your life changes—not from obligation, but from gratitude.
Other worldviews often tie moral behavior to salvation. People behave well because they have to—it’s the way to earn divine favor. But Christianity is the opposite. Grace is unmerited favor. We’ve been given what we do not deserve, and when that truth grips you, you respond the only way you can—with a transformed life. It’s not about having to do good things; it’s that you can’t help but do them.
One of the most profound moments that captures this truth is in Luke 7, when Jesus visits Simon the Pharisee. As they share a meal, a woman—known for her sinful past—comes in and washes Jesus’ feet with her tears, anointing them with perfume. Simon’s thinking, “If Jesus knew who she was, He wouldn’t let her touch Him.” But Jesus stops him. He tells Simon that while he, the religious man, hadn’t offered even basic hospitality, this woman showed extravagant love. Why? Because she knew how much she had been forgiven. Jesus tells Simon a story about two people who owed debts—one small, one enormous. The one who owes more feels greater love when the debt is forgiven.
That story hit me hard. The least forgiving people are often those who think they have little to be forgiven for. But when you realize the depth of what God has done for you—how much grace you’ve received—you can’t help but extend that same grace to others. Christianity doesn’t just offer new beliefs; it offers transformation. It changes how you see people, how you forgive, how you love. The least forgiving people are often those who think they have little to be forgiven for. Share on X
I no longer live trying to earn God’s approval. I live in response to it. And that’s what makes Christianity so radically life-changing. When you understand what’s been done for you, you can’t help but live differently—and that kind of transformation is the truest evidence of a changed heart.


















