The Naked Gospel: Truth You May Never Hear in Church (9 page)

T
HE SHOCKING AND LIBERATING REVELATION OF THE NEW SELF
really happens when we can explain why we still struggle with sin. Throughout history we have taken up creative and often impressive mental gymnastics in our attempts to reconcile these two scriptural ideas: (1) the old self is dead, but (2) we still sin.

Many have held to the idea that the old self is only
positionally dead
or is
progressively dying
over time. But the same epistles that claim Jesus solved our
behavior
problem by dying on the cross and taking our sins away also state that Jesus solved our
identity
problem by giving us a new heart, a new spirit, and God’s Spirit. We accept forgiveness as actual, Jesus’ own death as actual, heaven as actual, and Jesus’ return as actual. We don’t have the right to relegate the death of our old self to the realm of the positional or the progressive.

I believe that Romans 6, for example, should be read in the same way we read the rest of the epistle—in a literal sense. Of course, if this is true, then we must find some real answers to the following question: If the death of my old self is literal, actual, and final, why then do I still end up sinning?

Before we continue, ponder an important question: If we find a satisfactory answer to why we still struggle with sin, can we finally believe that our old self is dead, buried, and gone, that no portion of our old self is still present within us? My heart’s desire is that you know the purity of who you are as a new creation, and that at the same time you are able to explain your ongoing struggle with sin. If we grasp these two realities, we’ll be equipped to approach daily life and temptation as God intended.

We will start with the premise that knowing the
source
of temptation is valuable in resisting temptation. If you’ve ever tried to resist your own desires, you know how difficult resisting can be. For example, in an effort to avoid the pain of unreciprocated love, you try not to love someone. Still, your heart cries out for them. You can’t just pretend that your love doesn’t exist. Or you want to lose weight, and you try to resist your appetite for a favorite treat.

If resisting sin means saying no to what
we
truly desire, then our quest for victory over temptation will fail. But fortunately this isn’t the picture that God paints for us. Instead, he reveals an entity called
the flesh
that works to prevent us from doing what we truly desire.

Right away, we must differentiate the term
flesh
from the term
sinful nature.
The Greek word used in the original manuscripts is
sarx,
which is literally translated as “flesh.” This is how
sarx
is translated in the New American Standard Bible and in many other English translations. However, one popular English translation, the New International Version, translates
sarx
by using the phrase
sinful nature
instead (putting
flesh
in the text note).

The phrase
sinful nature
can lead to inaccurate and harmful
ideas about the new heart, mind, and spirit that we have in Christ. There’s nothing within the Greek word
sarx
that connotes “sinful” or “nature.” The NIV rendition is an expansion of the term.

The NIV is a wonderful English translation that makes ideas accessible to the average reader. In nearly all cases, there’s no harm done as translators expound on the Greek to make the English as accurate, clear, and readable as possible. But in this particular case, the attempt to make God’s Word more understandable has actually led to some misunderstanding.

As a result, many Christians today believe that their constant, ongoing struggle is with the sinful nature and, more precisely,
their
sinful nature. It’s not much of a stretch to go from (1)
I have a sinful nature
to (2)
I am a sinner by nature
to (3)
The most natural thing for me to do is sin.
Then we wrongly conclude that who we are (our nature) at the very core is sinful, when in fact the Scriptures teach just the opposite. We are now partakers of God’s divine nature (2 Peter 1:4)!

Our struggle as Christians is against something called
the flesh,
not against our own nature. The whole point of the gospel is that Jesus Christ has made each of us who believe into a new person. The old has gone, and the new has come. To deny this or to water it down is to miss the potency of the message altogether.

But given the radical claims about our personhood, it’s essential to examine the Scriptures to better understand what the flesh is and how it operates.

The first thing we see about the flesh is that it can serve as a resource from which we gain a sense of wisdom, strength, and
status: “Consider your calling, brethren, that there were not many wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble” (1 Corinthians 1:26 NASB).

Smart. Strong. Popular. The flesh wishes to provide a sense of identity rooted in intellectual attributes, physical characteristics, or social status. The flesh wants us to gain identity from the
soul
(mind or intellect) or the
body
(family lineage or physical appearance) as opposed to the
spirit
—our new identity in Christ.

Growing up in the Washington, D.C., area, I knew individuals who built their identity around politics. In academia, there’s the temptation to build identity around job titles and intellectual accomplishments. In Hollywood, some think they should be treated like nobility because of their fame and wealth. Still others spend their lives grooming their physical appearance, because to them it’s a source of value and worth.

Whether we seek our identity through intellect, social status, or physical appearance makes no difference. It’s all a pursuit of identity and fulfillment according to the flesh.

So far, we might define
flesh
as “an approach to gaining a respected, strong, or popular identity in this world.” Paul’s rhetoric backs this up:

If anyone else has a mind to put confidence in the flesh, I far more: circumcised the eighth day, of the nation of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the Law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to the righteousness which is in the Law, found blameless.

P
HILIPPIANS
3:4-6 NASB

Confidence in the flesh is a choice. We can choose to build an identity around our birth into a certain family or our accomplishments.
In Paul’s case, he constructed a positive self-image using his Club Israel membership card (circumcision), his nationality, his tribe, his religious achievements, and his reputation. After all was said and done, Paul concluded that the identity he had built for himself was worthless. He discovered that bragging about heritage, lineage, and religiosity was pitiful next to knowing a real identity
in Jesus Christ.

When we think of the term
flesh,
we tend to envision bad-looking traits being produced in one’s life—gossiping, lusting, and other ugly manifestations of sin. Although the Bible cites these as deeds of the flesh, there’s a flip side. Sure, the flesh is delighted to coerce us toward obvious evil. But the flesh is equally satisfied to initiate religious or moral living admired by others!

Don’t believe for a minute that the flesh is limited in its scope to producing ugly behavior. The flesh will build
any
kind of identity, as long as it gains love, attention, and acceptance from someone. As you read Paul’s question directed to the Galatians, see if you can identify the “type” of flesh at work in their lives: “Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being
perfected by the flesh?”
(Galatians 3:3 NASB, italics added).

The flesh wasn’t trying to produce evil-looking behavior in the Galatians. Instead, these Christians were employing fleshly effort as a means of
perfecting themselves
(growing) in Christ! They regarded their smarts and moral fortitude as the route to spiritual maturity.

Are we any less off course today?

We’re intended to grow in the same way that we first received Christ—through dependency on him. There’s no substitute for his work in our lives. A flesh-based method of self-improvement may appeal if we’re not informed about God’s way to maturity.
But God’s way is simple and straightforward: Jesus plus nothing! As Paul writes, “I am confident of this very thing, that [God] who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:6 NASB).

Through these and other Bible passages about the goals and cravings of the flesh, we glean some important facts:

• The flesh is a way to
  think.
  
• The flesh is a way to
  walk.
  
• The flesh
  works against
  the Spirit.
  
• The flesh encourages
  self-effort.
  
• The flesh seeks
  identity
  and
  purpose.
  
• We choose to
  put confidence in
  the flesh.
  

But the flesh is not the old self. It’s something that is with us, but it’s not us. We choose to depend on the flesh (or the Spirit) in any given moment. The choices we make depend on whether we recognize the agenda of the flesh and the futility of its ways.

Our poor choices to live according to the flesh are not any indication of our nature. Christians are new creations at heart, no matter how we choose to walk in a given moment. Christians are
in
the Spirit. But we choose to walk after the Spirit or after the flesh as circumstances hit us.

Have you ever pretended to be someone you’re not? Maybe to impress someone else, you gave the impression that you were more
than you actually were. It’s all too possible to act in a way that’s inconsistent with who we are. And we usually do so when we’re concerned with what someone else may think.

When we walk after the flesh,
we’re not being ourselves.
If we rely on intellect, strength, or physical appearance to gain purpose and fulfillment, we’re walking after the flesh. But again, this is no indication of our nature. In fact, depending on the flesh goes
against
our nature.

We’re designed for dependency on Christ. Walking after the Spirit is our destiny. We’ll never be content with walking after the flesh or fashioning an identity outside of Christ. We can do it, but it won’t fulfill.

Before we were in Christ, we had no choice but to gain identity and a sense of fulfillment from the flesh. But now, as children of God, there’s a battle within us. When we walk after the flesh, the Holy Spirit and our new human spirit (the new self) cry out to be heard.

Living a life of dependency on the Spirit is really nothing more than being ourselves. We were built for it from the ground up. After all, we are now God’s workmanship (Ephesians 2:10). We’re designed for walking in the attitudes and actions that God has already prepared for us.

For a Christian, because of your new identity in Christ, being yourself and expressing Christ are one and the same. God has arranged it so that our new self and our union with his Spirit cause us to want what he wants. God has the market cornered on true fulfillment. And he has installed within us an intense and neverending desire to find fulfillment through expressing his life.

U
NFORTUNATELY, THE FLESH ISN’T ON ITS OWN
. I
T HAS A POWERFUL
ally whose agenda is to distract us from walking after the Spirit. Who is this ally? A power at work in us called
sin.

First, we must distinguish
sin
from the plural
sins.
Of course,
sins
are attitudes or behaviors we engage in. But
sin
is altogether different.

Here’s the very first reference to
sin,
which occurs in Genesis as God speaks with Cain: “Sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it” (Genesis 4:7). Here, God warns Cain about an imminent threat. Within the warning, God reveals an important concept that applies to us today. There’s a power called
sin,
and its desire is to overtake us.

Again, we’re not speaking of
sins
or
sinning
but of an entity called
sin.
God doesn’t warn Cain about sinful behavior. Instead, he’s concerned about an organized force complete with desires and an agenda to control.

A battle is taking place right under our noses. We know we’re being tempted, but how should we understand the source of those urges? The apostle Paul recounts his battle as he tried to live as a
Pharisee under the demands of the law. In Romans 7:14, he announces his own personal discovery that he was “unspiritual, sold as a slave to sin.” While under the law, Saul of Tarsus first thought he had it all together. Until sin had its way with him, he had no idea that he was living in slavery. God used the law to give Saul a deep sense of his sinfulness. Later, God used the Damascus Road experience to deliver him from spiritual slavery.

Saul of Tarsus experienced a startling revelation, one that can dramatically alter the way we view our thought lives today. An organized and personlike power called
sin
was at work
in
Saul, causing him to do things that he didn’t intend to do. This force was not Saul himself. It was something other than Saul, although it was acting through his physical body. Take careful note of the words used to describe Saul’s struggle with sin while under the Jewish law:

I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is
no longer I myself who do it,
but it is
sin
living in me.

R
OMANS
7:15-17, italics added

Notice that Saul places the blame on something that was
not
him. Wow! Here we see that sinful thoughts were served up from a secondary source called
sin.
Sin lived
in
Saul, but sin was
not
Saul.

Is this force called
sin
still active? And is it still housed in the physical bodies of Christians today? Absolutely. At salvation, nothing happened to the power of sin. It is still alive and at work in our bodies. After all, the power of sin didn’t get saved;
we
did! And we won’t have new bodies until we hit heaven. So the presence of sin within our bodies won’t change until then.
What if Christians today recognized that their bodies house a nagging force that acts
in
them and may even feel
like
them but is
not
them? What would it mean for you to understand your struggle in this way?

But today we are often willing, even eager, to state that we’re sinful like everyone else. We think we’re being humble to claim that we’re no better than anyone else in the world around us.

But the New Testament paints a very different picture.

Apparently, we’re aliens in this world, and our citizenship is elsewhere.

So are we really the same as everyone else? Is our final destination the only difference? Or is there something fundamentally distinct about the core of our being that sets us apart from everyone else? Until we answer these questions, we’re left to wallow in confusion about a fundamental issue: Who am I?

As a devout Jew, Saul of Tarsus wanted to keep the law and do right. His intentions were in line with what God had commanded. But he didn’t end up carrying out those intentions. Lost or saved, most of us can identify with the frustration of life under law.

Paul goes out of his way to clarify that the problem was
not
his intentions. Read carefully, and you’ll find that the problem was something else:

For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh; for the willing is present in me, but the doing of the good is not. For the good that I want, I do not do, but I practice the very evil that I do not want.

R
OMANS
7:18-19 NASB

So why was Saul of Tarsus not able to do good things? In the next verse, he reveals the cause of his puzzling behavior: “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” (Romans 7:20, italics added).

Without a doubt, he’s passing off credit to
something other than himself.
If you haven’t caught this important truth yet, take a few minutes to read the second half of Romans 7 slowly. Notice what he emphasizes twice, both in verse 17 and in verse 20.

Theologians debate whether or not Paul was saved when he went through the Romans 7 experience. I think Romans 7 recounts his struggle as a Jew, since he announces himself to be “in the flesh” (verse 5 NASB) and “sold as a slave to sin” (verse 14). To me, this sounds like lost talk. Once saved, the apostle Paul knew that he had died and was freed from sin.

Whether Romans 7 is describing a pre-salvation or a postsalvation experience is not crucial. Regardless of one’s view on this issue, the point is that there’s a sin principle within the physical body.
^*
And this sin principle is aroused when we, whether saved or lost, try to live up to the law or any lawlike standard.

Neither our bodies nor our connection to the physical changed at salvation. So once we’re saved, sin is
still
present in our bodies. As we’ll discuss later, we’re now dead to sin and can therefore resist its prodding. But sin itself isn’t dead. As our experience tells us, it’s very much alive.

Sin is
in us,
but it’s
not us.

Does this mean we can shirk responsibility for our actions? Should we conclude that when we sin, the Devil made us do it, and so it’s not our fault?

We know from Romans 6 that it’s
our
responsibility to not let sin run our lives. Paul admonishes us to resist this rogue force and not allow it to take control. Clearly, there’s a choice. We’re urged to recognize the presence of sin and say no to it: “Do not let
sin
reign in your mortal body so that you obey
its
evil desires” (Romans 6:12, italics added).

Notice to whom the evil desires belong, namely, to sin. If we give in to sin, we’re buying the lie that we
want
to sin. Yes, we’re not yielding to God. But we’re also not yielding to our own selves. Instead, we’re giving in to thoughts that didn’t originate with us. They’re coming from a sinister source, and for that reason they will never fulfill.

We can allow sin to have its way with us, but what benefit will we really get? Sure, there may be a temporal and fleeting sense of fulfillment but only at a base (fleshly) level. In the believer, this feeling will eventually give way to remorse and a sense of our higher calling.

The reason for this sense of higher calling is twofold: the presence of Christ within and the believer’s new human spirit that’s joined with him. As heavenly people, we despise the flesh and the power of sin. The core of our being cries out to fulfill the destiny set before us.

Imagine that you are going to a tropical climate for a vacation. After you check into the hotel, you throw on your sandals and head down the trail toward the beach. Along the way, however,
a local parasite attaches itself to your foot. Over time, it burrows further and further in until it’s lodged deep inside your foot—so deep you don’t realize it’s there.

Over the next few months, the parasite begins to grow, feeding off of your life. Eventually, its ravages begin to send pain messages to your brain. As time goes on, the pain becomes increasingly difficult to bear. You begin thinking, “There’s something seriously wrong with me. There’s something wrong with my foot.” Not knowing about what lies
within
your foot, you assume the problem is your foot itself.

In the months and years that follow, you consult with numerous doctors, but no one detects the presence of the parasite. Eventually, you conclude there’s only one solution—amputation. You must rid yourself of the source of the problem. To do so, you reason you’ll need to sever a part of yourself.

What a tragedy! If only someone could detect the parasite, you’d know the truth.

Although not actually physical, the power of sin is much like a parasite that has found its way inside your body. This parasite lies within us, but it’s not us. When our mind receives messages from the power of sin, these messages can feel or sound just like us—especially if we’re not aware that our old self is dead and gone and that we truly
don’t want
to sin. If we’re not aware of who we really are, sin can make us think that its messages originate with us. After a sinful thought passes through our minds, sin can even turn right around and hit us with an accusatory thought: “How could I, a Christian, even
think
something like that?”

Have you ever found yourself surprised at your own thinking? Do you ever wonder how you could be so sincere about your life in Christ and yet think such things? It’s not because we are half dirty and half clean. It’s because there’s a battle going on within us. And understanding the nature of that battle is crucial if we desire any real change in the outcome.