There’s a deep place inside of me that rages against the light. I don’t feel it all the time. But there are moments, usually at night when I’m tired or bored or disappointed—always when I’m angry—that it surfaces, gnawing and tearing at my deepest desire: to look and love like Christ. I keep waiting for the Spirit to speak light and order and form out of my dark and chaotic world. In these moments I wonder: how much of my duplicity can God stomach? Does Christ even care? Will He ever make me like Himself? Does He even want to?