Renovate Your Life Series #2
Several years ago, our family did a modest home renovation—some new flooring, a bathroom overhaul, and a little wall work. Nothing major, but enough to remind us why people say things like, “Never again.”
It was a mess. And not just the kind you can sweep up. I think we were still finding tile dust six months later. In places no tile dust had any business being. It got in our vents, our closets, probably our cereal.
So why did we do it?
In a word: discontentment.
No one tears up perfectly fine flooring or starts reconfiguring walls just for fun (unless you’re on HGTV with someone else’s money). Renovation—whether of a house or a life—always begins with a sense that something isn’t quite right. That things could be better. That they should be better.
Nobody starts a project like this by saying, “You know what? Everything’s great. Let’s mess it up anyway.” Same goes for your life. Every real transformation begins with a sense of Holy Discontent.
Let’s pause here, because I know someone’s about to bring up Philippians 4:11—“I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.” Yes, that’s good. And true. But that’s not what I’m talking about.
I’m not talking about a craving for more stuff or status or the next shiny thing.
I’m talking about that gnawing internal sense that you were made for more. That restlessness in your soul. The ache that says, “I can’t keep living like this.”
That’s not just discontent—it’s holy discontent.
And it might just be sacred.
Sometimes the ache itself is the invitation.
It’s how change begins. That divine nudge that shows up as restlessness, frustration, or maybe even burnout. Theologians might call it conviction. I call it a wake-up call—rarely convenient, usually uncomfortable, but often the clearest signal that something meaningful is about to happen.
There’s even a name for this in psychology: the Transtheoretical Model of Change, or Stages of Change, developed by Prochaska and DiClemente. (Impress your friends by casually dropping that into conversation.)
The model says we move through stages when it comes to change:
- Some folks are in denial—no idea anything even needs changing.
- Others are in contemplation—they’ve noticed something’s off but aren’t ready to act.
- Then there’s preparation—where people actually start planning to do something about it.
- That’s when things finally start to move.
But here’s the deal: nobody renovates anything if they think everything’s fine.
If you’re in that awkward middle stage—the mirror moment where you don’t like what you see and you’re tempted to beat yourself up—take heart. That discomfort might not be failure. It might be the sacred start of your renovation.
So don’t ignore it. Don’t run from it. And please, don’t try to numb it with Amazon Prime.
Instead, pay attention. That frustration might just be God’s invitation to move forward.
Because every Renovated Life starts with the same sentence:
“Something’s got to change.”
And maybe, just maybe, God’s been waiting for you to say it.
