How People Actually Change
The relational pattern behind lasting transformation
This is part THREE of a five-part series exploring why spiritual growth often feels stuck—and how transformation and discipleship actually happen. Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here.
Have you ever made a resolution—something you genuinely wanted to change—only to find yourself slipping back into old patterns?
You decide to respond differently in a difficult conversation. You commit to a new habit. You practice, even consistently for a time. And yet, when pressure rises, something familiar takes over. The reaction you meant to leave behind shows up again.
You are not alone in this.
Most people experience a gap between what they intend to do and what they actually do. In fact, the vast majority of those who set out to change—whether at the start of a new year or in a moment of clarity—eventually return to old patterns (1).
This gap can be discouraging. It raises a persistent question:
If I work hard at changing myself, why doesn’t it last?
There’s something about how we understand change that is incomplete.
The Misdiagnosis
Most of us have been taught to approach change in a fairly straightforward way: learn what is true, apply it, and practice it until it becomes a habit.
In other words, we assume change happens through knowledge and effort.
This way of thinking shapes much of how we approach spiritual growth. We treat it as a series of behaviors to improve—something we can manage with enough discipline, consistency, and willpower. If we try harder, stay focused, and remain committed, we believe we will eventually become the kind of person we hope to be.
And for a time, this can seem to work.
But when pressure increases—when we are tired, overwhelmed, or stressed—these changes often begin to unravel. The unhelpful patterns beyond which we thought we had moved, return with surprising strength.
If insight and effort alone were enough, change would last. But it doesn’t.
Which means the problem is not a lack of sincerity, desire, or even discipline. The problem is that we are trying to change in a way that does not align with how change actually happens.
(By Mykola)
What’s Actually Happening
If effort and insight are not enough, then what is actually happening when we get stuck?
The answer becomes clearer when we look at what happens under pressure.
In moments of stress, we do not primarily operate from our intentions. Even the best plans and most sincere commitments can fade quickly when something feels at risk. Instead, we shift into something more automatic.
We operate from internal, subconscious patterns.
These patterns were not formed overnight. They were shaped over time—especially in earlier seasons of life—as ways of navigating stress, uncertainty, or disconnection. In those moments, your mind and body learned what to do to stay safe, to regain control, or to preserve connection.
Eventually, those responses became familiar. Then efficient. Ultimately, automatic.
Psychologically, this is often described as implicit relational knowledge (2)—the internalized patterns your mind and body carry about what to expect from others, what feels safe or threatening, and how to respond when something matters.
Neurologically, these patterns are deeply embedded. When stress rises, the brain prioritizes survival. The reflective, intentional part of the mind becomes less accessible, and these well-worn pathways take over.
Which means that what feels like inconsistency is often something else entirely.
It is not that you are failing to live up to your intentions. It is that, in the moment, your nervous system is doing what it has learned to do.
We don’t rise to our intentions—we fall to our formation.
Why This Affects Faith
These same patterns do not stay confined to our relationships with others. They also shape how we relate to God.
In your mind, you may genuinely believe that God is present, trustworthy, and good. You may be able to articulate those truths clearly. But in a moment of stress, a different set of expectations can emerge—often without your awareness.
Instead of experiencing God as present, you may feel alone.
Instead of trusting, you may feel the need to take control.
Instead of resting, you may feel that something is at risk and must be managed immediately, or disaster will strike.
In that moment, your response to God is not being driven by what you believe at a doctrinal level. It is being shaped by what feels most real to you based on your past experience.
Research in relational spirituality helps explain this tension. Our relationship with God operates on both a level of belief and a level of lived experience—and those two are not always aligned (3). When the body and brain have to choose, it is lived experience that tends to guide our response.
This helps explain why sincere faith does not always lead to consistent transformation. What we often label as inconsistency—or even failure—is not simply a matter of weak belief or lack of discipline.
It is formation.
Spiritual inconsistency is not hypocrisy—it is the result of deeply formed relational patterns.
Which means real transformation must go deeper than belief and behavior.
The Turning Point: What Actually Changes Us
If our patterns are formed through experience—and continue to shape our responses—then it follows that they will not be undone by information alone.
We can learn what is true. We can agree with it. We can even practice applying it. But information, by itself, does not reach the level where these patterns live.
What reshapes those patterns is something else: relational experience.
Transformation takes place when what we believe and what we actually experience start to come into alignment. Not all at once, and not in dramatic moments, but gradually—through repeated encounters that shift what feels real and trustworthy within us.
This is why change often feels elusive when we rely primarily on effort. We are trying to override patterns that were formed relationally without engaging the very context in which they can be reshaped.
Real change happens when we begin to experience something different—when, in the very moments where old patterns would normally take over, a new kind of presence becomes possible.
Over time, those experiences accumulate and reshape our expectations, our sense of safety, and our responses.
Change, then, is not primarily the result of trying harder.
Change is the result of being formed differently through new relational experiences, until, as Paul describes it, “Christ is formed in you” (Galatians 4:19).
The Pattern of Transformation
When you look closely at how this kind of change unfolds, a consistent pattern emerges. It is not complicated, but it is deeply significant.
It often begins with awareness.
Instead of moving quickly past what we feel, we first notice it. We recognize what is happening inside us—our reactions, our emotions, our impulses—especially in moments of stress. We pause long enough to acknowledge that something meaningful is taking place.
From there, something crucial becomes possible: connection.
In that moment, we are not left to navigate our experience alone. We begin to encounter God as present—not only as an idea we affirm, but as a reality we experience. This may come through prayer, Scripture, silence, or the presence of another person who reflects God’s care. What matters is the growing awareness: I am not alone here.
Moments of connection create a kind of internal safety. In that safety, the different parts of our mind begin to work together again rather than reacting automatically.
As this happens repeatedly, an internal shift begins to take place.
We are not only thinking differently—we are learning to expect something different. What once felt threatening may feel more manageable. What once triggered urgency may begin to soften. We start to experience God’s presence as steady, life-giving, and near.
And from that shift, something else emerges: new capacity.
Our responses begin to change—not because we are forcing them, but because there is now space where there used to be reactivity. There is a pause where there used to be immediacy. There is a choice where there used to be compulsion.
We still feel the pull of familiar patterns. But they no longer have the same control.
This is what transformation looks like in real life.
Not immediate perfection, but increasing capacity—the growing ability to remain present, to respond with freedom, and to live in alignment with what is true, even under pressure.
In his second letter to the Corinthian church, Paul describes this kind of change as a gradual, ongoing work: “we… are being transformed… with ever-increasing glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18).
The Engine of Change: Joy
At the center of these relational experiences is something that is often overlooked, but essential to transformation: Joy.
In interpersonal neurobiology, joy is not simply a feeling of happiness or positivity. It is something far more specific and relational. Joy is the experience of being with someone who is genuinely glad to be with you.(4)
This may sound simple, but its impact is profound.
(By Camerene Pendl/peopleimages.com)
When you experience someone as present, steady, and glad to be with you, your nervous system begins to settle. What once felt threatening becomes more manageable. You are no longer navigating the moment alone.
This creates a sense of safety.
From that safety, attachment deepens. You begin to trust—not just intellectually, but experientially—that you are not alone, that you are held in something steady and life-giving.
And it is within that relational safety that change becomes possible.
Because when the brain is no longer in survival mode, it becomes capable of integration—the different parts of your mind—thought, emotion, and body—begin to work together again. New patterns can form. Old patterns begin to loosen.
This is why moments of relational connection matter so deeply. Not just connection in general, but connection that carries this quality of joy—the sense that you are seen, welcomed, and delighted in.
Scripture points to this same reality when speaking of God: “In your presence there is fullness of joy” (Psalm 16:11).
When we experience God in this way—not only as present, but as glad to be with us—something changes at the deepest level of who we are.
We are not simply reassured.
We are reshaped.
Transformation, then, is not driven primarily by effort.
It is driven by love experienced as joy—repeatedly and relationally—until what once required effort begins to feel more natural.
The Big Reframe
When we step back and hold all of this together, we discover a different picture of change.
We are not transformed simply by trying harder, and we are not transformed simply by knowing more.
Both effort and understanding have their place. But neither of them, on their own, can reach the deeper patterns that shape how we live and respond.
What changes us is something more fundamental.
We are changed through the experience of being met—consistently, relationally, and over time—in a way that reshapes what we expect, what we trust, and what we desire.(5)
We are formed through love.
Or, to say it more simply: We are loved into new ways of being.
And as that love becomes more deeply experienced—received not just as belief, but as lived reality—it overflows.
What we have received, we can share.
This is how transformation unfolds.
We are loved into loving. (6)
Implications for Discipleship
If this is how transformation actually happens, then it has significant implications for how we understand discipleship.
Discipleship cannot be limited to learning more, doing more, or participating more—though all of those have value. On their own, they do not reach the deeper patterns that shape how we live and respond.
If transformation is relational and experiential at its core, then discipleship must create space for that kind of formation.
It must include awareness—the ability to notice what is happening within us, especially in moments when old patterns begin to surface.
It must cultivate real connection with God—experiencing a presence in the midst of our actual lives, as consistent as deep friendship and as unconditional as a parent.
And it must involve relationships with others who can support and reinforce new patterns—people who help us remain present, who reflect God’s care, and who make it possible to experience that we are not alone.
Without these elements, discipleship easily becomes informational or activity-driven. It may produce insight and engagement, but not necessarily transformation.
But when these elements are present, something different transpires.
Discipleship becomes the pathway through which spiritual formation actually takes place—shaping how we relate to God, how we understand ourselves, and how we respond to the world around us.
Transformation requires more than intention.
It requires that kind of pathway.
Invitation
So, the invitation is not to try harder. It is to begin noticing.
The next time you find yourself slipping into a familiar pattern—especially in a moment of stress—pause, even briefly.
Notice what you are feeling.
Instead of moving quickly to fix it or push past it, remain there for a moment. Pay attention to what is happening in your body, your thoughts and emotions, your reactions.
And in that space, gently bring your awareness to something deeper: You are not alone here.
God is present—not at a distance, but with you, in this moment.
You might take a slow breath and simply remain there, even for a few seconds longer than you normally would. Imagine yourself as the branch, graded onto Jesus, the vine, nourishing you (John 15).
You’re not striving or fixing. You’re just staying present.
Over time, these small moments begin to matter.
They create space where there used to be reactivity.
They allow connection where there used to be isolation.
They open the possibility of a different kind of response.
Transformation does not usually begin with dramatic change.
It often begins quietly—through moments of awareness, connection, and presence that gradually reshape what feels possible.
Which means that change may not be as far away as it seems.
It may already be beginning—quietly, relationally, and over time.
What’s Next
If this pattern is already at work in your life, even in small ways, the next question is not whether change is possible—but how to participate in it more intentionally.
In the next article, we’ll explore a simple, integrated pathway for transformation—one that brings together self-awareness, relationship with God, and the role of others in a way that can be practiced in everyday life.
Shifts often happen most clearly when someone is able to walk with you—helping you notice what’s happening in your heart and mind, attend to your experience with God, and gently practice responding in new ways.
If that kind of space would serve you, I’d be glad to have a conversation. Just reply back to this email or click my name at the top of this article to send me a message. I look forward to hearing from you!
Part 1 - Why You’re Doing Everything Right… But Still Feel Stuck
Part 2 - Knowing More About Jesus Isn’t Enough
Part 3 - How People Actually Change (this article)
Part 4 - From Reaction to Freedom
Part 5 - Never Walk Alone (coming soon)
References
1 - Driver Research, “New Year’s Resolutions Statistics,” Driver Research, accessed April 14, 2026, https://www.driveresearch.com/market-research-company-blog/new-years-resolutions-statistics/.
2 - Todd Hall, M. Elizabeth Lewis Hall, Relational Spirituality; A Psychological-Theological Paradigm for Transformation (Downers Grove: iVP, 2021), 118.
3 - Edward B. Davis and Pehr Granqvist, “Theistic Relational Spirituality: Development, Dynamics, Health, and Transformation,” Psychology of Religion and Spirituality 13, no. 4 (2021): 401–415.
4 - E. James Wilder, et al, Joy Starts Here; The Transformation Zone (Holland, MI: Life Model Works, 2021), 7.
5 - Emine Yücel and Duygu Dincer, “Transformative Power of Friendships: Examining the Relationships among Friendship Quality, Self-Change, and Well-Being,” Personal Relationships 31, no. 2 (2024): 301–332, https://doi.org/10.1111/pere.12536
6 - Todd Hall, The Connected Life; the Art and Science of Relational Spirituality (Downers Grove: IVP, 2022), 38.
Hi Debbie - big thank you for your writing. ‘Loved into loving’ - that’s a grace-gift.
Thanks Debbie! Your clear way of articulating transformation is so accessible. It makes me wonder if this applies to other dimensions of growth process in addition to spiritual growth…