This morning’s devotion comes from Keith Pozzuto.

He must increase, but I must decrease. (John 3:30, ESV)

I grew up thinking that “sanctification” was all about me. I thought that I was saved by Jesus, but then it was up to me—in my cooperation with the Holy Spirit—to become a holy person, a good person. In my mind, my obedience and disciplines were what sanctified me, what helped me climb the ladder to glory. Sanctification is the word used to describe the life between “being saved” and going on up into God’s glory. “Sanctification is a process,” I had been told.

Now I have a new vision of sanctification—and it really is a vision. It’s not based on merit, but on reality. It kind of looks like this:

I am standing in front of a gravestone. It is grey and wet, predawn, and the breeze is brisk at first. I have a shovel in my hand and I am digging. The digging is easy for a while, but then, about a foot down, I hit clay and the digging becomes harder. After a while I’m completely covered in red mire, this refuse of years of decay. Then dawn breaks. The sun rises over the cruciform headstone, and its shadow passes over me. Not long after, I am completely under its shadow. I cannot escape the depths of digging, but I cannot escape the morning shadow of the cross, either. The sunlight seems to filter around the cold stone, heaven a cross-shaped keyhole through the pit that I have dug for myself.

To me, this is a more insightful vision of sanctification. The deeper we dig, the more we realize Christ’s boundless depth of love.