In the fraternity of city changers, reformation and transformation are often mistaken for identical twins. And it is not difficult to see why. Along with their appealing “out with the old, in with the new” demeanor, both concepts sport solid biblical credentials. But as we all know, appearances can sometimes be deceiving. Beyond their surface similarities, transformation and reformation are actually quite different.
Canadian missionary Roger Armbruster understands this difference quite well. As he has rightly observed, reformation is an Old Covenant concept (see Exodus 18:19-24; Leviticus 18:3-5; Deuteronomy 6:17-21; Joshua 24:25) that seeks to improve the present regime by correcting errors and removing defects. It recognizes that change is necessary, but can only offer temporary fixes. Its method is to take an original design – this can be anything form a traditional practice to a popular concept or movement – and modify it incrementally into scores of variants (hence today’s denominational hash.)
Because reformation works at a surface level, resulting “changes” are often a repacked version of old, familiar patterns. The Protestant Reformation, a 16th century movement aimed at reforming certain doctrines and practices of the Roman Catholic Church, offers a good example of this. Frustrated with the Church’s insistence that only company priests could rightly interpret and expound God’s Word, the Reformers set out to liberate the believing masses. What they actually did, however, was exchange one form of dogmatic exclusion for another. While people could now read the Scriptures for themselves, interpretation of these words remained the province of ecclesiastical elite. What had been the duty of the Roman Catholic religious hierarchy – itself descended from the Jewish Sanhedrin – was now in the hands of stern councils (including the infamous Geneva Consistory) led by the likes of John Calvin. But even this arrangement proved unsatisfactory, and as John Milton observed wryly, it was not long before men took on the task of reforming Reformation itself. Soon the right to define orthodoxy was claimed by a new elite comprised of denominational leaders, seminary professors, and more recently, doctrinaire radio personalities.
This is how reformation works. One adaptation follows another, always with the promise of lasting change. Leaders tinker with concepts and structures as if they were aeronautical engineers trying to extend the service life of an old airframe. Even if they do manage to keep their programs and movements viable for a few more seasons, there is little likelihood of a fundamental or lasting breakthrough. They are simply re-forming what is already there, and what is already there can only take place where they have already been.
Transformation, on the other hand, is a concept rooted in the New Covenant (see John 4:14; Romans 12:2; II Corinthians 3:18, 5:17; I John 3:9). The term itself derives from the Greek work “metamorphoo” which means to change from one degree of glory to another, with ever increasing glory. It is the spiritual equivalent of a caterpillar being metamorphosed into a butterfly. Unlike reformation, it does not merely tinker with society, it changes it from the inside out. It operates at the heart level.
Working to elect Christian legislators and lobbying for government reform are noble pursuits, but they will not yield a transformed society. They never have. Even in Calvin’s Geneva, a 16th city-state where Protestant reformers had achieved extraordinary ecclesiastical and political power, social harmony was largely elusive. In an attempt to impose morality and faithfulness on the general public, church elders were appointed to serve as policemen of the Reformation. At the behest of by intolerant, austere, and power hungry leaders, they launched a moral “reign of terror” that swept up hundreds of alleged idolaters, adulterers, and heretics.
As a consequence, societal behavior flowed out of external intimidation (the fear of man) rather than internal revelation (the love of God.)
Several Christian leaders, the late Oswald Chambers among them, have worried publicly that this Reformation mindset is with us yet today. “If we are going to be ready for Jesus whenever He comes,” warns Chambers, “we must stop…using religion as a kind of higher culture. [must] become spiritually real…’ Society cannot be improved merely by applying political or ecclesiasti cal force. Long-lived change, if this is indeed what we seek, requires fresh spiritual technology. Social patches or refinements must be exchanged for a fundamentally new design. Good works must be replaced by living water.
“The Church has been through the Reformation,” Armbruster says. “Now it is time for transformation.” Only transformation will yield the kind of maturity and oneness that will lead the world to believe we have something that they need, something that cannot be duplicated by man-made efforts in the kingdoms of this world. As Brian Edwards wrote in Revival, A People Saturated with God
“…if reformation is the re-forming of an apostate Church to the doctrine of the New Testament, then revival [transformation is the reviving of a sleeping Church to the life of the New Testament (emphasis mine.)
Taken from the book of Transformation: A Unifying Vision of the Church’s Mission