When we think of miracles God performs and has performed for His people, many of us think first of the parting of the Red Sea. Certainly seeing such a body of water parted so two million people could walk across on dry land—and then letting the water come back in and inundate the army chasing them—is a true miracle.

Another one that may come to mind, is the felling of the walls of Jericho by a trumpet blast. Or the delivery of a man from the depths of the Mediterranean to dry land my a large fish. Spontaneous combustion of a large altar after it had been doused with water.

How about in the New Testament? The feeding of the multitude with the loaves and fishes. Jesus’s walking across the water? The empty tomb?

We can all think of countless miracles throughout the Bible, but in my opinion the greatest miracle of all is not recorded in God’s written word. It’s the miracle by which He takes people steeped in the things of this world—mired in our own lusts, focused on the things we want for ourselves—and changes us and adopts us into his own family.

When I was a young man, my focus was totally on myself. What I wanted. What I deemed to be good for me. Well, when my daughter was born, her welfare shot to the top of that list, but it was still my list.

Waitresses were not individual human beings. They were conveniences there to serve my desires. The same for store clerks, bank tellers—you get the point. The world revolved around me and my needs and desires.

Even when I devoted time to a worthwhile organization like Optimist International, I was actually pursuing what I perceived as my own best interests. Being the president of a club or the lieutenant governor of a zone gave me a certain stature that I hoped would help make me more successful in business. If I helped kids or my community or whatever along the way, that was okay, but it was really all about me.

Then one day a series of reverses brought me to see myself as God saw me, and it wasn’t pretty. I realized I wasn’t doing such a wonderful job of running my life, and I asked Jesus to come in and take it over.

Some things changed almost immediately. Some changes have been a long, slow process, but God took this lump of clay and changed it into something entirely different.

Those waitresses and clerks and tellers that used to be faceless conveniences to serve my wants now are wonderfully made human beings. When I begin to patronize a new restaurant, I want to get to know the waitresses, cashiers and others. I want to know their names and them to know mine. I want to know that they’re born-again brothers and sisters who will someday live in God’s presence. I want to pray for the well-being of those who are Christians and for the salvation of those who are not yet.

My purpose here is not to blow my own horn about how wonderful I’ve become—I’ve still got a long way to go. My purpose here is to try to describe the magnitude of the miracle God performed in getting me off the road I used to be on and onto the road I’ve been following since my salvation—stumbling at times, veering off to one side and needing correction more often than I’d like to admit, but still being led by Him where He wants me to go.

Back in the 1980s there was a praise song that contained the words, “From glory to glory He’s changing me . . . changing me and transforming me . . .” That’s the miracle I’m talking about, and in my opinion, remembering the person I was 40 or 50 years ago, that miracle makes parting the Red Sea look like child’s play.

If you liked this, please comment and repost link on FB or Twitter.