The War Within: Romans 7:14-25

We know that the law is spiritual; but I am unspiritual, sold as a slave to sin.

He sat in his car in the church parking lot, engine off, hands still on the wheel.

He had just preached on holiness.

The sermon had gone well. People had responded. He had spoken of transformation, of victory, of the power of God to change lives. And he had meant every word.

But in three hours, he would be alone with his laptop. And he already knew what would happen.

I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.

He wanted purity. Genuinely wanted it. He had installed the accountability software. He had memorized the verses. He had confessed to his small group. He had begged God for freedom.

And still.

The wanting wasn't enough. The hating wasn't enough. Something in him was broken in a way that good intentions couldn't fix.

And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good.

The law was right. The commandments were holy. He had no argument with God's standards. The problem wasn't that the rules were too strict or the expectations unreasonable. The law was good.

He just couldn't keep it.

As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me.

Sin living in me. He had never thought of it that way before. Not just sins committed but sin residing. An occupying force. A tenant who refused eviction.

He was a believer. The Holy Spirit dwelt in him. And yet sin still lived there too. Two residents in the same house, at war.

For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature.

His sinful nature. The flesh, some translations said. Not his body—his body was created good. But something deeper, something twisted at the root. His sinful nature contained no good. None.

For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.

The desire was real. He wanted to honor his wife. He wanted to walk in integrity. He wanted to be the man his congregation thought he was.

But the desire wasn't enough. He could not carry it out. The wanting and the doing were tragically disconnected.

For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.

Keep on doing. Present tense. Continuous action. Not a single failure but a pattern. A rut worn deep by repeated travel.

He had repented. Many times. He had wept. Many times. He had sworn it would be different. Many times.

And still.

Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.

Was that an excuse? It didn't feel like one. He still felt the shame, the guilt, the self-disgust. But it was an explanation. Something was wrong with him that his willpower couldn't fix. Sin was doing what he didn't want.

So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me.

Evil is right there with me. He could feel it. In the parking lot, in the brightness of Sunday noon, evil crouched close. Waiting. Patient. Right there.

For in my inner being I delight in God's law.

He did delight in it. He loved the Scriptures. He treasured the commands. His inner being—his renewed heart, the new creation—delighted in what God required.

But I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me.

War. Two laws battling. The law of his mind—what he knew to be right. The law of sin—what pulled him toward wrong. And the law of sin was winning. Making him a prisoner. Captured, bound, held.

What a wretched man I am!

The cry escaped his lips in the empty car. Wretched. The word felt right. Not just a sinner but wretched—miserable, torn, a walking civil war.

Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?

Who. Not what—no technique, no strategy, no seven steps to freedom. Who. He needed a person, a rescuer, someone stronger than sin living in him.

Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!

The answer broke through. Thanks be to God. Deliverance existed. Through Jesus Christ. Not through self-improvement. Not through trying harder. Through Jesus Christ our Lord.

He wasn't free yet—not entirely. The struggle continued. But deliverance was real. Jesus was real. The rescue was certain even when the battle raged.

So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God's law, but in my sinful nature a slave to the law of sin.

The dual reality. Slave to God's law in his mind. Slave to sin in his flesh. Both true. Both present. The Christian experience before glory.

He opened the car door. The battle would continue. But he was not alone in it. And the war had an outcome already decided. Jesus Christ would deliver him.

Today. Tomorrow. Until the rescue was complete.