I’ve moved a few times in my life. And no matter how many times I do it, each time, the same thing happens. I change my address with everyone else I can think of—utilities, credit cards, banks, family and friends. I change my address with the post office so that mail gets forwarded.   

Then when we move, mail still goes to the wrong address and I have to have this same awkward conversation with the new owner of my old house:  “Hey… uh… you have a stack of mail at my house.” 

I’ve even ordered stuff on Amazon and accidentally sent it to the old address and had to contact them: “Hey, yeah sorry to bother you again…did you get an Amazon package for me?” 

“Yep. It’s on the porch.”

Face palm. My stuff… sitting on someone else’s porch… at an address that is no longer mine. 

I was thinking the other day that darkness does the same thing. 

You get rescued. You get forgiven. You get made new. And then shame shows up like, “Hey… you have a giant box on my porch.” 

Old accusations. Old labels. Old regret. Delivered to you as if you haven’t moved. 

“Don’t forget it. Come get it. It’s yours.” 

Here’s what I’m getting at:

A lot of Christians believe in salvation… but live like their address never changed. 

We treat our feelings like the final authority: 

If I feel condemned, God must be condemning me. 
If I feel dirty, I must still be dirty. 
If I’m tempted, I must be powerless. 
If I’m struggling, maybe I’m not really His. 

Your emotions are real. They’re just not the judge. 

 

Salvation isn’t a feeling. It’s a relocation. 

The Apostle Paul doesn’t describe what God did for you as “help” or “motivation.” He describes it as a rescue mission: [God] has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. (Colossians 1:13-14) 

That word domain is about authority—jurisdiction. Darkness had a realm. A rule. A claim. And the Bible just said that God didn’t just improve you inside that realm. 

He moved you out of it. 

So if you are in Christ, your legal home is Light—even when your emotions still feel like midnight. 

 

Even though the condemnation is gone… 

Because even though condemnation is gone… the condemner remains. I’m not being dramatic. Scripture is clear that there is a real enemy who accuses God’s people. And he doesn’t show up with horns and a pitchfork. He shows up with a script: 

“After what you did, God could never love you.”

“After how bad you messed up, you’re too far gone.” 

“After all you’ve done, you could never make a difference.” 

“You’ll never change. It’s who you are.” 

And what’s crazy is that we buy it hook, line, and sinker. But here’s the tell: accusation never leads you to Jesus. 

I know that sounds obvious, but if it was, we wouldn’t be stuck in cycles of condemnation with no end in sight.  Accusation doesn’t produce repentance. It produces hiding. It doesn’t bring conviction with hope. It brings shame with paralysis. It doesn’t say, “Come into the light.” It says, “Stay in the dark and call it humility.” 

Hear me: that voice is not Jesus. 

Because when Jesus speaks, He doesn’t deny sin… but He also doesn’t deny your future. In John 8, He looks at a woman dripping with shame and says, “Neither do I condemn you… go, and from now on sin no more.”  

And then later in Romans 8: “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1) 

Not less condemnation. 

Not condemnation on probation. 

No condemnation.

So when you feel condemned, you’re not “being realistic” or “staying humble.” You’re being lied to. 

 

What do you do when the old mail shows up? 

Jesus has transferred you from the domain of darkness to the kingdom of His Son. But what do you do when the old mail shows up anyway? 

You don’t negotiate with your old landlord. You return it to sender. You answer accusation with truth—and fast. 

Because here’s what I’ve learned about shame: If you let it talk long enough, it’ll start driving.

So you have to interrupt it. Say it out loud if you need to: 

“I don’t live there anymore.”

“I’ve been transferred.”

“That address is not mine.”

Or if you want to get even more direct:

“Jesus took my condemnation. You don’t get to reissue it.” 

 

Live like your address has changed 

This is where a lot of us stall. We learn the truth… we agree with the truth… we even love the truth… 

…and yet we keep living like darkness is still home. That’s why Ephesians 5 doesn’t just tell you what you are. It tells you how to walk: “At one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light…” (Ephesians 5:8) 

Not “you were in darkness.” “You were darkness.” That’s not exaggeration. It’s the depth of this rescue story. It means God didn’t just clean you up—He made you new. 

Then Paul says something we all resist: “Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.” (Ephesians 5:11) 

Expose doesn’t mean “air everyone else’s dirt.”

It means you stop protecting your own. 

Because darkness grows in secrecy like mold.

But light kills it. 

And then Paul basically yells at sleepy Christians: “Wake up, sleeper… rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” (Ephesians 5:14) 

Maybe some of us aren’t rebellious. Maybe we’re just drowsy. Same pattern. Same compromise. Same excuse: I’ll deal with it tomorrow. 

And darkness loves a tired Christian. It doesn’t need to destroy you in public—just keep you asleep in private. 

 

The light switch to flip this week

Start your day by saying your address 

Make it simple. Make it daily. “God rescued me from the domain of darkness and transferred me into Jesus’ kingdom.” 

You’re not trying to hype yourself up. You’re reminding yourself what’s true before the day starts lying to you. 

Small lights add up. 

 

Final word—you don’t live there anymore 

If you belong to Jesus, you don’t have to earn your way into the light. You were transferred. You moved out of darkness already. So when condemnation shows up with your name on it, don’t treat it like official mail. 

Mark it RETURN TO SENDER.

Because you don’t live there anymore.