from Rachel: Mortifying Your Flesh (part two)

In the blanks below write the two most significant statements in today’s reading assignment. Be prepared to discuss why the statements you chose were significant to you.
“Our flesh itself is not destroyed in our co-crucifixion with Christ, but just as a dead corpse is powerless to respond to anyone’s will, so our flesh’s absolute power over us has been broken
“You can obey it if you want to, but your life is under new management. You are no longer under the power of sin. A new ‘landlord’ has taken over – Giving in to sin sounds pretty foolish when illustrated as paying a former landlord as a charitable donation.”

Explain this statement from the text: Before our identification with Christ in this way, we, in these earthly bodies, were required to serve the flesh.
“I guess our earthly body was the only master we had.”

In what way are we like a dead corpse in relation to our flesh (the indwelling principle of sin)?
“We don’t have to respond.”

What will eventually happen to you if you try to resist the indwelling power of sin by self-discipline without knowing that the power of indwelling sin has been broken by Christ?
“My endurance will give out and I’ll crash anyway.”

Praise – “You are superlative, supreme, sensational, our Savior and sustainer.”
Repent – “I’m sorry I don’t feel more self-sacrificing love for You.”
Yield – “I want to want to pay You, not the old landlord. Help me to want to and to do so.”

Dearest Rachel –

Of the three of us in our little family (including Daniel), you were the oldest to come to Christ – and the only one to do so while in double digits of age, albeit just barely. Moreover, you took great pains to remember your childhood in a way that I tended to bury, attempting to remain as childlike as possible throughout your life. So perhaps you remember that much better what life under your old landlord was like (although I was always under the impression that you conducted yourself as what would be considered to the be “the good kid” during said childhood, albeit with a certain streak of wanting things the way you wanted, with no deviation).

I tend not to remember those days, and as such, I have trouble with the whole “before” and “after” dynamic of the Christian life. I know plenty of people whose lives were dramatically changed once they came to Him – most of whom did so in adulthood, so they had an extensive baseline to compare against – but I’m not one of them. I can guarantee that I’ve committed far more sin since becoming a Christian than I had before.

Granted, some of that is a matter of time; in nearly fifty years, things will happen, and mistakes will be made, and they continue to add up in a way that my previous self no longer can, since it was put behind me at six years of age. Moreover, there are some forms of sin which hadn’t the opportunity at the time; certain things are simply not physically available to one so young, while others require more autonomy and agency than one has as a child under one’s parents’ roof. So it’s to be expected that I have that much more under my belt than when I asked Jesus to take control of my life.

The thing is, it’s not supposed to be that way. I’m supposed to be a better person than all that. And the fact that I’m no better (and arguably worse) than I was as a child makes me wonder if I’m not still paying a hefty fee to my old landlord, as you put it – or if I’m still under old management entirely. I certainly have my moments where my attempts to be ‘good’ feel they’re happening under my own power, and after a certain point, they fizzle out, just like a Chicago sports team, leaving me to watch the real champions to savor their victories.

Then again, it’s said that a fish doesn’t know that it’s wet. It may well be that I’ve spent my entire adult life in the ocean, watching the whales in despair, never realizing that I’m surrounded by the water of His love and care because I’ve never been yanked out of it and left flopping on a boat deck or a pier, gasping for breath. Granted, at that point the analogy breaks down, since once we’re in His ocean, we’re safe forever, which is certainly not the case down there, but whatever.

I wish I had more and better answers, honey – and I know you dealt with your own questions, too – albeit more dealing with your folks than yourself, as you had a steady confidence in your salvation. And I suppose that, just because I don’t have any great difference to demonstrate, it doesn’t mean I’m that much worse than anyone else. Still, I could use an eye upon me, and a wish for me to do well, if you would be so kind.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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