Romans 7:14–25

Notice the difference of expression in verse 14: "We know that the law is spiritual" — all Christians know that. But then does he say, We know that we are carnal, sold under sin? No, "I am carnal, sold under sin." He turns back at once to himself. He has been given new life, and under the law he had already formed a judgment of himself from his own experience. He goes back to that. He begins to reason about what he is before God, and not about what God is towards him. The result is that he cries out, "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?"

The law is spiritual — that is a fact we know, not a matter of experience. In contrast stands what "I am," and this has to be learned through sad experience: "carnal, sold under sin."

An unconverted man may not see this. He may see in it nothing more than a commandment that forbids certain outward acts. But we see that the law lays bare the whole inward man. If it condemns the outward act, then the evil thought in the heart cannot be counted right either.

We know that the law is spiritual. But the law says you must not have a lust in your heart; you must not covet. Well then, I may as well give up, for I have lust. You might as well tell me I must not be a man.

The Greek word used here for "sold" is piprasko. Of a person it means "to sell into slavery." The Greek Old Testament uses it as a picture of selling oneself to sin: of Ahab in 1 Kings 21:20, 25; in 2 Kings 17:17; see also Isaiah 50:1 and 52:3. So Paul may have had these in mind when he cried in desperation, "I am sold under sin." But this is not the experience of the apostle Paul only. It is the condition of us all, though we may discover it only when the light of the gospel shines on our fallen state.

Only observe that it is the bitter sense of bondage to sin, and not the love of sin... He learns, however, that it is not himself that loves sin, for he really hates it.

Some think that the soul in this distress is unconverted. One reason they think so is that, as its exercises go on, it says, "I am carnal." But that conclusion is unwarranted. It comes from confusing carnal with natural, which is ignorance of Scripture. For Scripture speaks of three classes, not two only; there are natural, carnal, and spiritual men. Now Romans 7 describes the middle class; the person there is neither natural nor spiritual.

It is, to use a figure, a man who has got out of a trap describing his feelings when he was in it. Do you think Paul was a "wretched man" crying out for deliverance when he wrote his letter to the Romans? Certainly not! He was a happy man rejoicing in full deliverance. But he is describing a soul given new life, still under the law and with no power against sin. This is not proper Christian experience... In this part of the chapter you do not get the Holy Spirit in His indwelling power. There is new life, but no power, no sense of full deliverance, no sense of victory. All of that comes in chapter 8.

He wakes up at last to a humbling fact. This constant inward evil is always seeking to break out. Having the blood of Jesus for his forgiveness does not deal with the whole case. It is a question, not of pardon only, but of deliverance. "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me?"

In Romans 7 we meet a man with a renewed conscience. He recognises the claims of righteousness — or more correctly, holiness. He hates evil and desires good. But his utter powerlessness to do the good fills him with dismay and wretchedness. His is plainly the case of a soul born of God, for no unbeliever actually hates evil… Still, here the soul must learn that abhorring evil and loving good is not in itself the power for doing good.

Nor is it bowing to an unavoidable fact only, but the heart agreeing that what it bows to is good. Faced with the truth, the soul does not wish to weaken the spirituality of the law. It will not drag the law down to the level of what people are able, or unable, to do. The soul reaches this point through the deep and terrible process of learning itself. Then it makes no excuses. It says in secret, "I agree with the law, that it is good." God is justified as to His holy law, and "I" is silent. An immense gain, spiritually, is reached.

He discovered by experience the good and holy character of the law. It is good as verse 9 states; but he now has to say "I agree with the law, that it is good."

You will find in Romans 3 these three characters of unconverted man — none righteous, none who understands, none who seeks after God. Now in Romans 7 the man has become intelligent; he acknowledges that the law is good, and he submits to it (Rom. 7:12-16); his will is broken, for he takes pleasure in it (Rom. 7:22); but the third thing fails — he has no righteousness. The more he understands how spiritual the law is, and the more he wants to fulfil it, the more he sees that righteousness is not in him. He is a miserable man.

First of all, he has found a fleshly "I," sold under sin — captive to it like a slave. He did not approve what he did. He did what he hated instead of what he wanted. But if he would not do it, his will was agreeing with the law that it was good. And if his will agreed, then it was not really he who was doing it. He would not do it, and yet he did. It was sin dwelling in him. There is an "I" distinct from the sinful principle — an "I" that was not his flesh. So he could see the sinful working of the flesh as coming from sin that dwelt in him. It did not come from the "I," which he knew was his own inmost will.

First, the discovery that there are two natures in the believer… two directly opposite energies come to light, one against the other. That is a relief, but not yet full clearance. Second, the conviction that "nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh." This conviction goes far beyond admitting and confessing particular sins. Third, that I have no strength: I find no ability to carry out what is good. So the distressed one looks outward for a deliverer, since he knows there is no good and no strength within.

The second half of the chapter gives us the experience of a man who wants to fulfil the righteousness of the law. He wants to bring forth fruit to God while standing under the law. God has awakened him, and the new life is at work in him. He understands how spiritual the law is, and what it requires. He wants to keep it, and his conscience cannot rest until he does. The new nature loves the righteousness of the law. But the flesh opposes it, and so the new nature does not fulfil it… in this passage there is no mention made either of Christ or of the Holy Spirit.

In that miserable experience, grace taught him how to tell himself apart from the sin that lived in him and that he now hated. This is a great step forward, and a relief to an honest soul. The next step was to tie himself to the new desires, and to seek deliverance through Christ Jesus, so that he might do what he now wanted, and not the sin he hated. He could then say, "It is no longer I … but sin." He does not say "Not I," as he does elsewhere. He says "No more I" or "No longer I," because before the change took place it was "I."

The moment I seriously set out to do what the law asks, I become aware of a force inside me working against me. It is too strong for me to fight. It wakes me up to the fact that "sin dwells in me." It is no accident and no habit. It is a principle I was born with. So I am forced to separate myself from myself.

Our wisdom is to fall into line with God's thoughts and to treat it as He does. Begin by recognizing that you are now identified with the new nature and entitled to disown the old. "It is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me." The new nature is your true self, not the old. It is like a grafted apple tree: as soon as the graft takes, the tree is the cultivated apple.

So sin is at least marked out as the terrible and powerful enemy of the soul. This is good, because it would be ruinous to fail to recognise an enemy, or to underrate his power. Once we see the true character of our souls' enemies, comparing it with our own weak forces may stagger us. But it would drive us to seek another refuge — in Him who alone is stronger than all enemies.

There he finds out that there is no good in him. Then he learns a second thing, one that people are often content with — but it is no deliverance. I hate it; well then, it is not I. The third thing is that the flesh is too strong for me. The will is there, but he does not find how to carry it out.

We can say when we sin, "It is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me." Even so, we cannot say that our doing evil does not matter. Nor can we escape the condemnation of the law, under which we feel ourselves to be. We cannot reach such unworthy conclusions as that God would condone our sins.

Sooner or later the believer discovers that sin still dwells in him, and that the old nature is as bad as ever, or worse. Then, instead of trying uselessly to make it better, he can take sides with God against it. He never treats it as anything but the deadliest enemy. He always distrusts it and never indulges it. He knows that God has completely condemned it at the cross, and so he condemns it completely too. He counts himself dead to it, but alive to God in Christ Jesus.

Second, in this struggle to do right and overcome sin by our own efforts under law, another important truth is learned. I discover that the evil of the flesh cannot be cured. As the Apostle says, "I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh." He does not say, "I do nothing good," but "nothing good dwells in me." It is here a question of what I am, not of what I do. In fact the flesh can do many things that are morally right. In the case described, the man's life was no doubt blameless. The failure was lust, and that is inward.

The believer is not in the flesh, but he sadly finds that the flesh is in him. He learns through humbling experiences to say, "nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh." He does not say, "no good dwells in me," because he has a new life and the Holy Spirit in him. He says, "nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh." Though he has been delivered from his standing in Adam, he still has the nature of Adam — the flesh, with its passions and lusts. That evil principle is ready to serve the law of sin. In fact he has two natures: the old nature, "that which is born of the flesh," which "is flesh"; and the new life, or new nature, "that which is born of the Spirit," which "is spirit."

First, the true character of the flesh — the old evil nature still inside us — is hopelessly bad. "I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh" (Rom. 7:18). If nothing good is there, then not even a good desire can be found there. Yet how long it takes most of us to give up all expectation of good, or even of improvement, from within.

So it is the sin that dwells in me. In fact there is no good in me — that is, in my flesh, the whole natural man as he is. Even where the will is present, I do not find the way to do any good. Power is completely missing.

This statement of Scripture is no discredit to the law, which was "holy and righteous and good" (Rom. 7:12). The fact is that "nothing good" dwells in the flesh (Rom. 7:18), so the flesh is hopeless material for the law to work on. Give a sculptor first-class tools and an excellent block of marble, and if the result is a hopeless mess, the critics will rightly blame the sculptor. Give him a heap of dry sand to work on, and they will clear him of all blame. Then all the failure is in the material and not the sculptor.

We need examples like this to get to know the flesh in ourselves: "nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh." This flesh cannot be trained, cleansed or improved. The only fitting place for it is nailed to the cross.

Discovering that "nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh" is agonizing. Yet it is the only true stepping stone to deliverance and to practical Christian holiness.

We try to do it, and then we get a very unpleasant shock. Our intentions are of the best, but somehow we have no power to put these things into practice. We see the good and approve it in our minds, yet we fail to do it. We recognise the evil we disapprove of, and yet we are trapped by it. A very distressing and humbling state of affairs, which we find stated in verse 19.

All that I did before I was awakened was of course only sin. But it is a hundred times worse to find that even when I want to do what is good, the flesh is incapable of it.

It is a question of power coming in, not of will; for he is supposed to will the opposite, but sadly does what he does not will. So the moral character of both natures is made plain. The flesh never goes along with the moral judgment and desire of the renewed man while under law.

Even an unbeliever often approves what is good and tries in some measure to do it. But more often he weakly gives way to the evil — in fact, he prefers it. Reality of desire is not there, and of course neither is power.

It is not a question here of what I have done, but of what I am. So for the first time I discover that in me there is no good thing. I would do good, but I do not do it. I am under the yoke of sin in the flesh. I acknowledge that the law is good; I hate sin, and yet I do it. But what I hate, I am not myself; I do indeed hate it. So, taught by God, I learn to distinguish between myself and what I do... This is not liberty yet; liberty needs power. But it is a very real comfort to tell the difference between me and the sin that lives in me. Power is missing because redemption is not yet fully known.

Our useless efforts to overcome the flesh teach us that we have no strength in ourselves against it. We realise that this lust, this pride, this vanity is wrong and must be overcome. So we set to work to overcome these evils by prayer, by study of the word and other religious exercises. The result is that we find we are wearing ourselves out with efforts that get nowhere... So we learn that if victory depends on our own efforts we must be utterly defeated, for we have no strength.

One question divides most of those who have written and preached on it: is the experience described that of a natural man or of a Christian? Both sides assume it must be one or the other. But that assumption is a mistake, and that is exactly where both fail... There is a transitional state, found again and again in souls who are born again but not yet in conscious deliverance. This is the exact state in question... There is an awakened conscience, but no power.

To use a picture, it is a man who has got out of a trap describing how he felt while he was in it. Do you think Paul was a "wretched man" crying out for deliverance when he wrote his letter to the Romans? Certainly not! He was a happy man rejoicing in full deliverance.

Earlier in the story the speaker went through the experiences described in verses 14 to 19. Then his question would have been, "How shall I deliver myself?" He was still searching for something inside himself that would do it, but searching in vain. Now he is beginning to look outside himself for a deliverer.

It is worth noticing that there is a second discussion in verses 18-20. It leads to the same result and closes in the same way, only with greater personal emphasis along the way.

So in Romans 7 the man who feels the power of evil in him is already converted. He is also aware of something inside him that leans the opposite way from sin and flesh. In fact, he identifies himself rather with that opposite tendency — "Now, if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me" (v. 20). Twice over he asserts this, although unable to deny either that the flesh too is himself (v. 18).

In verse 20 the "I" in "what I do not want" is emphatic. So is the "I" in "it is no longer I who do it." He now sees that he does more than agree with the law in his conscience. He delights in it in his inner self. But another law in his body takes him captive.

I learn more clearly than ever to tell the difference between myself as one born of God and the sin that dwells in me. That is why the verse seems to contradict itself. "I do the wrong thing," I have to cry out after each new failure. Yet when I look closely I see that "it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me." I am a puzzle to myself. Here I am almost like two people.

I do not do the evil with the intent of my will, for I do not want the evil that I do. On the contrary, I hate it. So it is the sin that dwells in me. In me (that is, in my flesh — the whole natural man as he is) there is no good at all. Even where the will is there, I find no way to do any good. The power is entirely missing.

Some people are afraid of this chapter because they think it lets people sin freely. That could never be. We seek to shun sin when there is a work of God in us. It causes all our anguish and distress. God brings the believer to a holy hatred of sin. It is a spiritual work. The man who is not born again knows nothing about this.

When we sin we can say, "It is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me." Even so, we cannot say that our doing evil does not matter. Nor can we escape the condemnation of the law, and under that law we feel ourselves to be. We cannot reach such unworthy conclusions as that God would excuse our sins. What can we do? And who can we look to for relief?

He learnt to tell himself, as a man born again, apart from the burden and pressure of sin inside him. This seems to be the first ray of light in this experience, the light that leads at last to deliverance and thanksgiving (v. 25).

In this passage the word "law" is used in two senses. In most cases it refers, of course, to the law of God given through Moses. In verses 2 and 3, however, we get "the law" of a husband; in verse 21, "a law"; in verses 23 and 25, "another law," "the law of my mind," and "the law of sin." In these cases the word clearly means a power or force that always acts in one direction — just the sense we use when we talk about "the laws of nature."

The question here is not guilt but power — or rather the total absence of it. So even with the best possible attitudes and desires, everything ends in captivity to sin, though sin is now hated. This is not the soul in the death and darkness of nature, but a renewed soul. God is loved and evil detested; but the soul finds itself powerless either to act on the one or to avoid the other. There is progress despite this, sad as the experience still is... As far as feeling goes, he was never more miserable.

Yes, you say, that is just what I have found, to my deep sorrow; indeed, it has made me almost conclude that I cannot have been born of God at all. Those who are not born of God never discover themselves to be half as bad as you find your old self to be. But do not the very next words prove that you are born of God — that is, that you have a new "I," or new nature?

We believe that in Romans 7 the apostle shows us the inner struggle of a soul that has been made alive but does not yet know deliverance. It is, to use a picture, a man who has got out of a trap describing his feelings while he was in it. Do you think Paul was a "wretched man" crying out for deliverance when he wrote his letter to the Romans? Certainly not! He was a happy man rejoicing in full deliverance... In all this part of the chapter you do not get the Holy Spirit in His indwelling power. There is new life, but there is no power, no sense of full deliverance, no consciousness of victory... It is very good for the soul to pass through Romans 7, but it is not for God's glory to stay there.

The flesh in me is, after all, too strong for me. The more I struggle with it for control, it struggles with me and overpowers me. I am like a man in a wrestling match, and my opponent has me down, and, wriggle and struggle as I will, I cannot rise up... But must I not strive? you say. Strive on! Strive on! You have not come to the end of yourself yet. God has to let the weary struggle go on until you reach that end. Then you lie back in your proved helplessness over the evil inside you, and look for a Deliverer outside yourself to deliver you from yourself.

When the believer has come to this — "I find it to be a law — a principle — that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand" — he has learned a profitable lesson. He then makes much of Christ and nothing of self.

This proves, beyond a doubt, that there are two natures. How could the old nature, which is sin, delight in the law of God? But it is so. Well, you say, it seems like a contradiction. That is exactly what the two natures are to each other.

"I delight in the law of God after the inward man." In the middle of all this struggling, he discovers an inward delight in what is of God. The only person who has this "inward man" is the believer, and so he delights in the wonderful law of God. Men often talk of feeding the inner man when they really mean the outer man, which perishes.

The inner man refers to the heart, mind, and so on: all that is within the body, but is distinct from it, and which can never die.

When the apostle looked into himself in Romans 7, he made a wonderful discovery. There was a part of him, the flesh, which "does not submit to God's law; indeed, it cannot." But there was also a part of himself which delighted in the things of God. In Romans 7 that inward man is without power. In Ephesians 3 the apostle prays for his readers to be strengthened with power through His Spirit in the inner man. What is lacking is strength, and the Spirit of God is there to give that strength.

"I delight in the law of God after the inward man." "I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out." That is, the man born again, before he learns by experience the true secret of strength, has spiritual instincts, but no spiritual power.

In Romans 7 the man has become intelligent. He acknowledges that the law is good, and he submits to it. His will is broken, for he takes pleasure in it. But one thing still fails — he has no righteousness. The more he understands how spiritual the law is, and the more he wants to keep it, the more he sees that righteousness is not in him. He is a miserable man.

This delight he speaks of is no doubt proper enough. But it is also plain that he is occupied more with "the law of God" than with God Himself. No wonder he is miserable. He must learn that "the law of God" is not to be his standard of conduct, nor his source of strength. He must find both in the Son of God... "The law of God" is not "the power of God."

The law and the sinner are complete opposites — they can never be reconciled. I must get a new nature, stand on new ground, be in the new creation, before I can delight in the law of God. But how do I get this "inward man," this new nature? Not by works of law of any kind, but by faith in Jesus Christ.

Near the end of chapter 7 it is important to notice that this passage uses the word law in two senses. In most cases it means the law of God given through Moses. But in verses 23 and 25 we get "another law," "the law of my mind," and "the law of sin." Here the word means a power or force that acts in one steady direction. That is just the sense we use when we talk about "the laws of nature."

Guilt is not the matter in hand, but power — or rather the total absence of it. So with the best possible desires and intentions, everything ends in captivity to sin, though sin is now hated. This is not the soul in the death and darkness of nature, but a renewed soul. God is loved, evil is hated; but the soul finds itself powerless either to carry out the one or to avoid the other.

Some may turn on me and say, "But sir, I am a child of God, I am not all flesh, I am born again, I have a new nature." But the man who cries, "Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?" had a new nature too. It was his new nature that made him groan like that! ... Thank God for a new nature; but deliverance is another matter. Is there not a law in your members warring against the law of your mind? Are you not learning weakness rather than power — the strength of sin rather than the holiness you are seeking?

The flesh in me is, after all, too strong for me. The more I struggle with it for the mastery, the more it struggles with me and overpowers me. I am like a man in a wrestling match. My opponent has me pinned down, and however I wriggle and struggle, I cannot get up. The secret is out. You have been looking for victory over yourself, to beat this lust and that passion. And how proud you would be if you had won it! But must I not strive? you say. Strive on! Strive on! You have not come to the end of yourself yet.

In order to be truly delivered, you must learn, and learn by experience, that you are captive to the power of sin and have no power to free yourself, even when you want to be free. God uses the law for this purpose, along with the new man's desire to be free from the yoke of sin that he hates.

We believe that in Romans 7 the apostle shows the exercise of a soul made alive but not yet knowing deliverance. To use a picture, it is a man who has got out of a trap describing how he felt while he was in it. Do you think Paul was a "wretched man" crying out for deliverance when he wrote his letter to the Romans? Certainly not! He was a happy man rejoicing in full deliverance. But he is describing a soul still under the law with no power against sin. In all this part of the chapter you do not find the Holy Spirit in His indwelling power. There is new life, but no power and no sense of full deliverance. All this you have in chapter 8.

The delight he speaks of is right enough, but it is also clear that he is more occupied with "the law of God" than with God Himself, and his misery is no surprise. He must learn that "the law of God" is neither to be his standard of conduct nor his source of strength; he must find both in the Son of God. In these verses he sees two distinct laws — that is, governing principles — in conflict. Each one claims him. But the "law of sin" keeps defeating "the law of God," so that against his own will he is carried captive.

After the first six verses, the Holy Spirit gives us the experience of a person troubled under law. So we do not have the Spirit of God introduced there at all. This is a remarkable fact... There, it is a renewed man — a soul truly born of God. He hates sin as no unconverted man does. He loves righteousness because it is of God, and he has a horror of evil. Yet despite all this, the evil he would not do, he does. The good he desires is never done. He has learned the evil of sin and sees the good of righteousness, but he is utterly powerless. What is the cause? The Holy Spirit shows the reason: he has only the law in front of him.

Taking the chapter as it stands, you cannot help being struck by what the speaker does not mention. In all the verses from 7 to 24, he makes not one reference to the redemption work of Christ. He says not one word about the Spirit of God. These painful exercises plainly belong to someone who is born again and so has a new nature. But in his conscience he is under the law. He does not know redemption, and he does not have the gift of the indwelling Spirit. Yet a believer who has peace with God may have an experience of this kind, though in a modified form, since he does know redemption and does have the Spirit.

Notice here, it is not "O wretched sins that I have committed!" That might be quite true as well. But it is, "O wretched man!" — the wretched man that I am. It is what he is himself.

Self, the old man, the body of this death, must be given up. We must have a Deliverer, and that Deliverer is Christ.

It is said that these words refer to a punishment used in the Roman army. When a soldier had committed a very serious offence, he was tied to a corpse and left to die in that condition. The living man would grow weaker and weaker without food and water. The corpse became more repulsive every day. Could any condition be more terrible?

This refers to the actual body, beyond doubt. The reason is this: the man who uttered that sorrowful complaint had been made to feel that death lay upon him and in him — in his mortal body.

The soul sees that it has neither righteousness nor power. It is in despair about this, and looks around, not saying, How shall I? but Who will deliver me? It finds at once in God a deliverance already prepared in Jesus. It is not even that God will deliver: the deliverance is already done, and he gives thanks.

The cry is not, "Who will help me to deliver myself?" It is not, "Who will help me to make myself better?" It is, "Who will deliver me from myself altogether?" ... Deliverance does not come by his fighting for the victory. It comes by finding that he is in Christ, through whom he now lives before God.

The comfort of deliverance is all the more striking when you notice one thing. The "me" now set free, when we turn from self to Christ, is the same "me" that was groaning under law just before... "For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus freed me from the law of sin and death."

It is not simply deliverance that the soul looks for, but a Deliverer. We may indeed come to the point when we realise our need of deliverance from sin, but fail to obtain it by looking for deliverance rather than a Deliverer. The question is not "How can I be delivered?" but, "Who shall deliver me?"

He looks away from himself and his inward struggles altogether, to seek deliverance outside of himself. He finds the answer at once. God's way is always "through Jesus Christ our Lord" — deliverance is there. Think of a man struggling in the water to save himself. The sheer effort of his struggle blinds him to what is around him. At last he finds that he is powerless to save himself. He gives up the struggle, looks up for deliverance, and finds a lifebuoy close at hand.

When we cast ourselves on grace, there is nothing but grace before us. Deliverance comes by our not being alive in the flesh at all. We have died away from it, and from under the law, which held us in bondage and condemnation. We are married to another, Christ raised from the dead. As soon as the distressed soul has said, "Who will deliver me?" the answer is ready: "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord." The answer is not, He will deliver. Deliverance is already done: he gives thanks.

Once this point is reached, deliverance is at hand: "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord." The first word of the delivered man is praise, and it brings in a name we have not heard once in all the experience before it. The eye turned in on self had turned away from Christ… But how has it come, and in what form? Has power suddenly poured in from above to nerve the paralysed soul to do what was impossible until now? No; the words that follow rule that out. It is a word that has come home to the soul — a new revelation that shows the folly and hopelessness of the past struggle, and ends it forever.

Before the Spirit of God unfolds the blessed portion of the delivered soul, one word is added: "So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin." It comes as both instruction and warning. It teaches us that we shall always have these two natures, whatever our progress. It describes them, and warns us that they will never change. The flesh, though we are now delivered from its mastery, will always remain flesh, and can never be changed or improved. We cannot drive this enemy out, and we cannot turn him into a friend. But we now know his character and the sources of our strength, and so we keep watch.

A godly person might suppose that, once deliverance comes in Christ Jesus, the conflict is over. That is not the case. This great principle comes out clearly only after the soul has known deliverance by Jesus Christ… I cannot give a calm account of how a man sinks in the swamp until I am out of it. This last verse states the lasting principle: flesh remains in us after we have known deliverance, so the conflict to keep it down goes on… But after deliverance we are no longer under the law; we belong to another. And the power of the Spirit is in us.

You only know deliverance as you keep in touch with the Deliverer… The circumstances stay the same as long as we are down here, but we have a Deliverer who can and does deliver us as long as we are looking to Him.