My parents were, well, pretty rich! And I suppose I’m fairly intelligent too, though I wouldn’t usually say it out loud. And when I was young, I was, like many young people, a bit idealistic.
As a child, I was brought up to read scripture every day. And I always had a strong social conscience. So I liked that vision that the prophets had. And you know our society is a real mess right now. I really wanted what they had talked about — justice for everyone, the poor properly cared for, and a society where integrity mattered, where people actually lived good lives.
And I wanted to make a difference, so I went into local politics. But that is so frustrating, believe me! Just too many old men clinging to power. They weren’t interested in changing anything, only keeping the status quo. And deep down I suppose I knew nothing could really change.
I'd heard all sorts of preachers talking about change, and how the world was a mess. And I was attracted to those people, because a lot of the men who stood in the pulpit seemed completely out of touch with what life was like for a lot of people. There was one guy who became quite popular. He was big on repentance. And change. And overturning the ruling class. Talking about how we could all live differently. His words sounded good, but the man himself… well, he was a ... wacko! Eating insects, wearing weird clothes! He lived in the desert! No thanks.
And then I began to hear about someone else — Jesus. He was saying some of the same things, but in a way that felt more real, more grounded. People said he could cure sickness, that he focused on the poor. I can tell - that caught my attention!
A few friends went to hear him in a nearby village. When they came back, they were shaken, almost excited. They said he spoke as if the prophets’ dream wasn’t some far-off hope but something already beginning. And this man, Jesus, was inviting anyone to be part of it. That just chimed with me. And I knew I had to go and ask him some questions.
But you know, life gets in the way. There was always business, always something more important. Then one morning, a friend came rushing in — "Jesus is leaving." Suddenly I realised I may have missed my chance. Some said he’d already gone. I knew I had to leave right then, or ditch the whole idea.
Well I set out for the next village. It was only half an hour’s walk, but halfway there I panicked. What if I missed him? Without even thinking, I broke into a run. My legs pounded the ground, my chest heaved, my heart hammered. I don't normally run in public, but I didn’t care who saw me, or what I looked like. I just ran.
When I reached the village, I headed straight for the marketplace, next to the synagogue. I'd guessed correctly. There was a big crowd there. Lots of people I knew, who looked at me surprised, because I was gasping for breath and looked a mess. But I just pushed past them. I didn’t care. I had to reach him. And then I saw him — still there, gathering some bits and pieces for his journey. Relief washed over me.
I hurried right up to him. Our eyes met, and time seemed to stop. There was an aura about him. Overpowering it was. He was a leader. A ruler. I could see it. And he just radiated goodness.
I realised then that I had dropped to my knees.
He waited until I caught my breath, and then he said, in a voice so steady and calm, "Go on."
My throat was tight. "I came because…"
I stopped. Why had I come?
"... because ... you’re good. You're just ... good. And this Kingdom you talk about — it sounds good. What do I have to do to be part of it?"
He looked at me closely. "Why do you call me good?" he said softly. "Only God is good."
The crowd was watching, silent. I didn’t know how to answer.
Then he went on, reminding me of what I already knew: the commandments. Don’t murder, don’t commit adultery, don’t steal, don’t lie, honour your parents, love your neighbour.
And, I said, "I’ve kept them. Ever since I was a child, I’ve known they were right. Following them has always felt natural to me."
And then he smiled at me. But there was something else in his eyes too — a kind of sadness. I can’t quite describe it. Almost like a shadow.
For a moment, I thought he was going to welcome me in, that this would be the start of something new.
But then he crouched down, so we were eye to eye. And I'll never forget ... his voice was soft and slow and deliberate. "You just lack one thing."
Ok I thought, just tell me.
"Sell everything you own, give the money to the poor, and come WITH me."
Well... I couldn't believe it! It felt like a punch in the stomach. I remembered what I had. Fine clothes. Leather shoes. Good food. Security. My own house. I glanced around at the crowd — and all I saw was worn, ragged, hungry faces. Finally, back to him. Only then did I notice how simple his clothes were, how little he carried with him. Nothing extra. No ornaments. Just himself. And I remembered the rumours that Jesus had nothing. Nothing apart from the clothes he stood up in. No home. His family didn't want him. No money. No job. No wife. Not even his own bedroom. He'd given it all up.
The air seemed to still. Every heartbeat thumped in my chest. I slowly got up. He saw in my face what was going to happen, and he looked so sad. He slowly stood too until we were eye to eye, both of us sharing this moment of pain and conflict. Because we both knew I wasn't going to follow.
So I walked away.
My mind was in turmoil.
And I've spent many years telling myself, "I’ve lived a good life. I’ve kept the commandments, I’ve tried to be upright, to be fair. But that? That was too much. I couldn’t let it go. I just… couldn’t."
And I'm old now. I've done my best. I've done a bit of following. But I've done a lot of walking away. What can I say?
Scripture doesn't tell us how the rich young ruler fared later in life - whether he ever decided to follow, or whether he was chained to his wealth for a lifetime.
So we could perhaps pause to reflect on the young man’s choice—not to follow, not to surrender fully, not to let go of what he holds dear. He convinces himself that he is “good enough,” that he has tried, that what he already possesses will have to do. That moment is familiar to all of us. We know the temptation to settle for a faith that is comfortable, that flatters our sense of adequacy, that allows us to remain in control. But the Word of God has a way of cutting through that self-assurance. It confronts the heart and exposes the gap between what we desire and what God desires. It shows us that our inner spirit longs for God’s will, yet our mind and body often resist or rationalize. And in that space—the place between what we are and what God calls us to be—Romans 7 speaks directly to us. Paul names what we sometimes feel but cannot easily admit: the struggle, the tension, the ongoing war inside every believer between desire, habit, and God’s call.
Just a word of clarification. Paul in Romans 7 and 8 uses the word "law" frequently. Three types of law - try not to get them mixed up at half eleven tonight when you are still struggling with Romans 7 and 8!!
Sometimes Paul talks about the law referring to the Torah - the OT law. At other times he is talking about Jesus' summary of the law - love God, love your neighbour, plus love each other as I have loved you. And sometimes he is referring to the law of sin and death - that pull inside us that moves us away from God.
In Romans Chapter 7, Paul confesses that while he agrees with the goodness of God’s law, he finds himself unable to carry out the good he desires — what he wants to do, he fails to do, and what he hates, he ends up doing. Often we think sin is just something we do. But Paul makes it clear that sin is an enslaving power that operates in his sarx (“flesh”), waging war against the law of his mind. His sarx ("flesh") is his body-and-mind. But in his inner being (his spirit) he is alive, attuned to God, delighting in everything good, and getting involved in being part of God's solution.
And that other law, the “law of sin,” drags him into captivity. He paints this unsettling picture of a divided self: one part longing and ready to act to become like Jesus. And another part habitually overpowered by impulses he cannot master. At the climax, he cries out in anguish, “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?”
Paul, the man who traveled hundreds of miles to spread the good news of Jesus, who faced beatings, shipwrecks, and constant danger, still struggled with desire.
In Romans 7, he calls it coveting—the quiet, inward pull toward things he knows aren’t the best for him. He may have longed for more influence, for people to take his words seriously, or for more respect from the churches that he loved. He may have wished for safety, comfort, or for his work to bear fruit quickly. Almost certainly, his natural zeal made him want to be persuasive, to have impact, and to see the gospel succeed on his timetable. He was after all Gamaliel's top pupil, without equal in his generation in his adherence to Pharisaical practice. And now that drive perhaps is making him discontented with what he is achieving. None of these desires made him a bad man—they just revealed the ongoing tension inside every believer: wanting one thing, while knowing God calls us to trust him to give us what we need. What we can handle. When we need it. Romans 7 shows that struggle honestly.
So perhaps a good exercise this week would be that as you spend time with your Bible open, you take a few moments to notice where your desires conflict with what you feel your Father in heaven wants. Don’t beat yourself up—just observe and bring it to Him. It is helpful to name your inner struggle without guilt. Paul’s honesty in Romans 7 is a model for you to copy. Because this chapter also demonstrates that acknowledging each struggle is a necessary step toward Spirit-led growth in that area.
Paul doesn’t minimise the struggle. It is visceral, desperate, woeful. We've been there. Agonising over our behaviour, thinking 'Why did I say that' or 'How on earth did I let that happen'? But hear this!
Immediately in chapter 8, Paul declares that there is no condemnation from God, no separation from Jesus Christ, no final defeat. Ultimately God has set him free.
And yet, day by day, he still fights desire, still stumbles, still feels the pull of sin. That’s the tension: the Spirit has power to help him live differently, but his failures are still real—and knowing the Spirit can help makes every slip cut sharper. This isn’t despair—it’s the battlefield of the Christian life. Every moment of struggle is also a moment to rely on God’s strength, not our own. Freedom is real, even while the fight continues. And the Spirit will keep us steady, showing that our failures don’t undo the love and power that God has already poured into us.
Paul gives us an important spiritual anatomy lesson in these two chapters. He talks about the “inner man”—the part of you that is alive to God and wants to do what is right. This perfect spirit that you have living inside you is the true you. Imagine it as a closed hand - determination, strength and purity. Created perfect when you were born again, as a spiritual baby.
But scripture tells us that you have the Holy Spirit living inside you, united with your spirit, bringing God's own determination, strength and purity. That's the unity that is truly inside you constantly.
Then Paul talks about the sarx, the flesh, the part that pulls us toward sin and failure. When we fall, it isn’t the inner person, the spirit, that sins. No, it’s the body and mind combination - the flesh (Greek:sarx) and the mind (Greek:psyche) - acting against the perfect spirit within you. This distinction doesn’t excuse our sin, but it helps us see the real battle and not despair.
Your true identity now is held within your spirit, not in your body/mind. But the problem you've got is the tail keeps wagging the dog! Your spirit wants to respond to God's voice but your body/mind shouts 'No! We're not doing that! It's unreasonable! It's too much!'
What we need here is a role reversal. The body/mind needs to stop shouting down the spirit, and the spirit will then have an opportunity to call the shots.
Hebrews 4:12 tells us "For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of mind (psyche) and of spirit (pneuma), of joints (function/action/connectedness) and of marrow (life/vitality), and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart."
So the Holy Spirit is at work in you, slowly making clear to you the separation between your egocentric mind and your God-centred spirit. So that you become aware of the source of the motivations within yourself. Otherwise you will simply be confused about why you continually fail when you want to be a spiritual person.
Then the Holy Spirit can continue to make your spirit strong, such that it can then unmask your ego and transform your mind.
To be fair to the body, it's not really making any moral decisions. It is simply demanding food, drink, warmth, security, pleasure, etc, etc, because it is biochemically wired that way. But your mind can override those self-oriented desires, and it is your mind which needs to take it's lead from your spirit.
You will know of course that this struggle is written in the pages of history - perhaps not how you imagine it.
Ancient Egyptian tomb paintings confirm that what we would today call male genital mutilation - circumcision - was practiced at adolescence by other nations and pagan religions centuries before Abraham indicating the transition to maturity. Under the Holy Spirit's guidance it slowly emerges in the Old Testament that the real circumcision is the internal cutting away of corruption from the heart. And Paul explicitely states it in Romans 7 - that the old sinful nature needs to be cut away, separated from the spirit in terms of influence and control, so that the Holy Spirit together with our spirit can increasingly save/heal the mind/soul by an ongoing transformation.
So recognise that this struggle is a necessary path of growth. Even if you fail, you are still loved. You are still forgiven. There is still no condemnation from God. His Spirit is still living in you. Failure does not erase your identity in God, but is an invitation to deeper reliance.
You may recall that the night before Jesus decided how many apostles he would need, and who they would be, he spent the entire night praying! This is remarkable. Even though Jesus was fully divine and determined to do the Father’s will, he did not receive the answer immediately. He had to spend the whole night in prayer, seeking clarity. This highlights the immense difficulty in conversing and hearing God - even for Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Just like you and I, Jesus was wrapped in a body/mind. And his body wanted what he knew he would have to deny it. And his mind, just like yours and mine, was constantly talking, trying to prioritise, to understand, to define his own persona.
Because Jesus' perfection was not that he had a perfect body, or a perfect mind. No, he was fully human. His sinlessness was in the fact that he always allowed his perfect spirit to call the shots. He was tempted in all points just as we are. The difference? He never allowed his body or mind to override his spirit.
Just FYI, Christians do not all agree on this. Some believe Jesus could not possibly have sinned, because there was never that struggle of choice in his mind. This is view popularised by John Calvin - that Jesus was impeccable. Others believe that there must have been an internal struggle otherwise Jesus cannot have been tempted as we are. They believe that Jesus could have sinned, but he always chose not to. This is the view popularised by Jacob Arminius - that Jesus was peccable.
Regardless, on this occasion, it took a full night during which time his spirit had to insist to his body that, yes, he had to stay awake and pray. And his spirit had to wait for the clamour of his mind, which may have had lots of opinions about who the best people might be, to be quiet and subservient. All so that he could hear clearly what the Holy Spirit was saying to his spirit. A full night before he was certain he had heard the Father correctly.
And Jesus relied on spiritual disciplines—fasting, prayer, attentiveness—to help to quieten his self oriented thoughts, to resist the demands of his body, then allowing him to discern more clearly. Yet the process reminds us that honest struggle, waiting, and wrestling with God are part of the human experience of trying to grasp what God wants for us. Even the Son had to endure the night of uncertainty before acting in perfect obedience.
So be encouraged! Jesus Christ knows all about your struggle to hear him, to recognise his voice, and to follow him.
