Living Christ daily…

LOOKING LIKE CHRIST DAILY

There are seasons when the Lord interrupts the familiar rhythm of your life with a whisper that will not fade. A holy tug. A quiet pull. A sense that He’s no longer content with us simply believing in Him; He wants to be seen in us.

Lately I’ve felt that call intensify.

It’s as if Jesus is saying, “Don’t just preach Me. Don’t just talk about Me. Let Me be visible in you — in your reactions, your responses, your daily choices, your hidden world.”

Wherever I am in the world — whether in Canada, Bulgaria, or wherever the Lord sends me — I try to guard one simple rhythm: I rise early, often between 5 and 9 a.m., and give Him those hours. Not as a religious achievement, but as a surrendered meeting place.

Those hours are where He:

• corrects me,

• fills me,

• confronts me,

• heals me,

• and quietly forms Christ in me.

Most of what you’re reading was born there — in the stillness, under the weight of His presence, when He began to speak to me about one simple call:

Look like Christ daily.

Not someday.

Not when life calms down.

Not when the ministry is “in order.”

But today.

1. THE DAILY GAZE

Some mornings, before the coffee, before the phone, before I even feel fully awake, I sense it:

“Look at Me again.”

Not as a suggestion.

As an invitation.

As a summons.

I’ve learned that the direction of my gaze often decides the direction of my day. When my first look is Christ, my reactions later carry Christ. When my first look is my phone, my to-do list, or yesterday’s frustration, I can feel my inner compass wobble.

Paul said, “If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit” (Gal. 5:25).

Living in the Spirit is what Jesus did for me.

Walking in the Spirit is what I choose, today.

And I’ve realized:

• The daily gaze is where walking begins.

• The daily gaze is where my heart re-centers.

• The daily gaze is where my inner world comes back into alignment with His.

I don’t always feel spiritual. Some days I wake up more aware of my flesh than my faith. Old conversations replay. Old disappointments knock. Emotions rise.

But when I deliberately turn my gaze —

“Jesus, I look at You. Shape me again today.” —

something shifts. Not always dramatically. But deeply.

Because we always become like what we behold (2 Cor. 3:18).

The more I look, the more He shapes.

The more He shapes, the more I look.

Christlikeness doesn’t begin with effort.

It begins with attention.

2. DYING TO SELF IN QUIET, UNIMPRESSIVE WAYS

There’s a part of following Jesus nobody applauds.

No one posts about it.

No one calls you forward for it.

It’s the part where you die — quietly, deliberately — in places no one sees.

When I was younger, I thought “dying to self” meant one big emotional moment at an altar. And yes, God uses those moments. But most of the time, death to self looks like this:

• a conversation you could win, but you choose to stay quiet;

• a right you could insist on, but you lay it down;

• an offense you could rehearse, but you release;

• a justification you could launch, but you bury.

It’s when the Holy Spirit whispers,

“Not that. Not this time. Not here. Let this die.”

Luke 9:23 is still in the Bible:

“If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me.”

Daily is the word we skip.

Daily is where the true formation happens.

I’ve had moments where I wanted to explain myself, correct someone’s perception, protect my reputation — and the Spirit simply said:

“Die here. Don’t resurrect this. Let Me defend you.”

Everything in my flesh wanted to resist. But I started to realize something:

Every time I refuse to die to something, that thing starts to rule me.

Every time I surrender it, Christ gains space in me.

Dying to self isn’t God trying to make you smaller.

It’s God protecting what He’s building in you.

The cross doesn’t kill your identity —

it kills what distorts it.

3. WHEN CHRIST STARTS REARRANGING YOUR INNER WORLD

There comes a point in every believer’s life when God stops dealing only with visible behaviors and begins touching the invisible structures underneath.

Not just:

• what you do,

  
  

  but why you do it.

  
  

  Not just:

• what you say,

  
  

  but what fuels it inside.

The Holy Spirit began to highlight this in me. Outwardly, things looked “fine” — ministry flowing, people touched, doors open. But inside, He started rearranging furniture:

• motives,

• expectations,

• unspoken fears,

• quiet insecurities,

• subtle attitudes.

It didn’t feel like condemnation. It felt like invitation.

“Peter, this cannot stay if you want to look like Me.”

Philippians 2:5 says,

“Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus…”

That’s not poetic language — that’s construction language.

“Let this mind be in you” means: allow Me to rebuild how you think.

Christ doesn’t just want to clean up our behavior; He wants to inhabit our inner world:

• peace where anxiety once sat,

• purity where compromise once whispered,

• gentleness where irritation used to flare,

• patience where impatience used to rule.

Some of the deepest breakthroughs in my life didn’t happen at an altar; they happened in private when the Spirit said:

“Peter, think differently about this.

Respond differently here.

Look at this through My eyes, not yours.”

And when I surrendered, something real changed. Not just how I acted — how I saw.

Christlikeness isn’t a costume you put on.

It’s a nature being formed inside you.

4. HIDDEN FORMATION & THE FIRE THAT PURIFIES

There is a version of you that only God sees.

And that’s the version He works on the most.

People see the messages, the ministry, the “public” obedience.

God sees the darkroom — the quiet, hidden trench where He forms you.

He walks you through fires other people never know you faced.

Some of those fires are:

• misunderstood moments,

• long delays,

• painful transitions,

• silent seasons where heaven feels quiet,

• stretching relationships,

• financial pressure,

• internal battles no one would guess you’re fighting.

Not every fire is from God, but God is present in every fire.

I’ve learned something simple in the furnace:

It’s not the storm itself that shapes you —

it’s your surrender inside the storm.

There’s a fire that burns you, and there’s a fire that purifies you.

One leaves you bitter.

The other leaves you Christlike.

Daniel’s friends walked through literal flames and came out without even the smell of smoke (Dan. 3). That’s not just a miracle story; it’s a picture:

You can walk through intense fire with Jesus and not come out carrying the stench of what you endured.

The difference?

• If you cling to your flesh in the fire, the fire marks you.

• If you cling to Christ in the fire, the fire refines you.

Over and over, the Spirit has whispered to me:

“I am not burning you.

I am burning off what keeps you from looking like Me.”

That one revelation changes how you walk in the furnace.

I don’t enjoy the heat. I don’t pray for trials.

But I no longer fear them the same way —

because I’ve seen what comes out on the other side:

• deeper peace,

• quieter authority,

• cleaner motives,

• and a Jesus I recognize more clearly in my own reactions.

5. RESPONDING TO WOUNDS LIKE JESUS

If there is one area where Christlikeness is truly tested, it’s how we respond to being wounded.

Not preaching.

Not praying.

Not prophesying.

Wounds.

Anyone can look Christlike when they are honored.

Christlikeness is proven when you are hurt.

Some wounds are dramatic.

Most are not.

They look like:

• being misunderstood,

• being judged unfairly,

• being forgotten,

• being left out,

• being questioned,

• being spoken about inaccurately.

Those wounds don’t just touch your emotions; they touch your identity.

And in those moments, I often hear the Spirit say:

“Peter, respond the way I did.”

Isaiah 53:7 says of Jesus:

“He was oppressed and He was afflicted,

yet He opened not His mouth.”

Not because He had nothing to say,

but because He refused to let the wound define His response.

The flesh says, “Explain yourself. Defend yourself. Make this right.”

The Spirit says, “Guard your heart. Let Me handle your name. Let Me use this to shape you.”

There are wounds that require:

• silence, not explanation,

• prayer, not strategy,

• forgiveness, not retaliation.

Every wound becomes a crossroads:

Will I respond as the old man…

or as the Christ in me?

When I choose His way —

• the offense doesn’t root,

• the bitterness doesn’t grow,

• the wound doesn’t rule me.

The pain may be real, but it no longer shapes my nature.

A Christlike response to pain is spiritual warfare. It protects the anointing. It keeps the channel of the Spirit clear. It keeps my heart soft in a hard world.

I often find myself praying:

“Lord, don’t just heal my wounds —

shape me through them.

Form Christ in me until nothing in me reacts outside of You.”

6. THE DAILY WAR: FLESH VS. SPIRIT

Even Spirit-filled believers wake up every day inside a battlefield.

Paul said,

“The flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the flesh” (Gal. 5:17).

That means if you feel the tug-of-war, you’re not broken — you’re normal.

The war isn’t a sign you’re failing; it’s a sign you’re alive.

Some days the war is loud.

Some days it’s subtle.

But every day, your choices decide which side gains ground.

The daily victories don’t always look dramatic. They look like:

1. Choosing grace over irritation

   
   

   You feel the edge rising in your voice, but you soften instead.

2. Choosing forgiveness before you feel ready

   
   

   Your feelings lag behind, but your spirit chooses the Cross.

3. Choosing self-control when your emotions flare

   
   

   You want to say everything; you say what honors Christ.

4. Choosing silence instead of over-explaining

   
   

   You let God guard your reputation.

5. Choosing purity in quiet moments

   
   

   No one’s watching, but He is, and you value His presence more than the moment.

6. Choosing humility when pride would feel good

   
   

   You come low and find His grace flowing there.

7. Choosing patience in waiting seasons

   
   

   You stay steady when everything in you wants to rush.

8. Choosing trust when anxiety screams

   
   

   You say, “Lord, I don’t understand, but I’m yours.”

These are not small choices in heaven’s eyes.

They are daily wins in the war between flesh and Spirit.

The Spirit doesn’t demand perfection.

He celebrates progression.

Often He whispers simple things:

• “Don’t replay that conversation again.”

• “Apologize first.”

• “Turn this thought into prayer.”

• “Step away from that temptation.”

• “Bless them instead of criticizing.”

Obedience in those tiny moments does something big:

it makes Christlikeness more natural.

Who you feed is who wins.

You don’t feed the Spirit through striving —

you feed Him through surrender.

7. WHAT CHRIST LOOKS LIKE IN MODERN CULTURE

We’re living in a time when true Christlikeness shines brighter than ever — not because the Church is perfect, but because the world is so confused.

People don’t know what to do with a believer who:

• refuses compromise,

• walks in peace,

• loves without agenda,

• carries holiness without pride,

• holds conviction without cruelty.

Christlikeness today is not passive.

It’s not bland.

It’s not “nice religion.”

It looks like:

1. Stability in a culture addicted to chaos

   
   

   Peace has become shocking. People can sense it.

2. Purity in a world that normalizes compromise

   
   

   Holiness is offensive and beautiful at the same time.

3. Kindness without manipulation

   
   

   Loving people who can’t benefit you.

4. Boldness without harshness

   
   

   Speaking truth with tears in your eyes, not venom in your tone.

5. Humility in a self-promoting age

   
   

   Letting Jesus be the hero of the story, not you.

6. Forgiveness in an era of outrage

   
   

   Refusing to cancel people God hasn’t cancelled.

7. Generosity in a mindset of scarcity

   
   

   Giving, serving, blessing quietly and consistently.

When Christ truly lives through you, you won’t fully “fit” in culture anymore.

You become a contradiction:

• too holy for carnality,

• too loving to be religious,

• too truthful to be popular,

• too gentle to be dismissed.

You don’t have to brand this.

You don’t have to announce it.

A Christ-shaped life preaches by existing.

8. A LIFE THEY CAN’T DENY: THE DAILY CROSS & DAILY GLORY

There is a kind of testimony that doesn’t need a microphone:

a life so consistently shaped by Christ that people can’t deny the evidence, even if they don’t agree with you.

People may resist your doctrines.

They may argue with your theology.

They may not understand your convictions.

But they cannot easily dismiss:

• a peace that shouldn’t be there,

• a forgiveness that makes no sense,

• a humility that doesn’t feel normal,

• a love that persists,

• a consistency that endures over years.

Jesus said, “You will know them by their fruit” (Matt. 7:16).

Not by their platform, not by their gifting — by what their life produces.

The fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22–23) is not simply a list of virtues; it’s the personality of Christ expressed through a surrendered vessel.

And that fruit grows where?

At the place of the daily cross.

Paul said, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Gal. 2:20).

He also said, “I die daily.”

The daily cross is not Jesus trying to make your life miserable.

It is Him inviting you into:

• daily alignment,

• daily cleansing,

• daily exchange.

Every time I pick up the cross —

every time I surrender a reaction, a right, a desire, a defense —

something glorious happens:

• the old me loses ground,

• the new man in Christ gains space,

• and Jesus becomes a little more visible.

That’s the daily glory:

not lights, not applause, not external success —

but Christ shining through an imperfect human who keeps saying “yes.”

At the end of the day — and at the end of our lives — the greatest testimony will not be how many places we travelled, how many sermons we preached, or how many people knew our name.

The real question will be:

How deeply was Christ formed in us?

Did our reactions preach louder than our words?

Did our private choices reflect the Kingdom we claimed to represent?

Did our daily life become a visible Gospel?

This is the call burning in my spirit:

Look like Christ daily.

Let your life become a quiet revival.

A living prophecy that says,

“Jesus is real — look what He has done in me.”

Let Him shape you in the hidden place.

Let Him refine you in the fire.

Let Him sculpt your inner world.

Let Him turn your daily cross into daily glory.

Because when Christ is truly formed in you, people don’t just see you.

They see Him.

And that…

is the greatest miracle any life can carry.

Much love.