15 I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. 16 Now if I do what I do not want, I agree that the law is good. 17 But in fact it is no longer I who do it but sin that dwells within me. 18 For I know that the good does not dwell within me, that is, in my flesh. For the desire to do the good lies close at hand, but not the ability. 19 For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. 20 Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it but sin that dwells within me. 21 So I find it to be a law that, when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand. 22 For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, 23 but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. 24 Wretched person that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? 25 Thanks be to God[a] through Jesus Christ our Lord! (Romans 7:15-25 NRS)
Dear Friend, may the grace and peace of the Lord Jesus be with you in an astonishing way. May the darkness in your life fade with the brilliance of Christ's light coming upon you; may hope rise steadily even in the face of approaching challenges. Ours is a life of hope and faith thanks to Jesus.
In 2005 Texas was hit with two big hurricanes; Katrina in August and Rita in September, just weeks apart. We were living in San Marcos, Texas, at the time. Our daughter and husband lived in Galveston, where he was a police officer. We were called to come and help remove some valuable furniture and electronics from their apartment as they were being evacuated from the island. We had a Suburban and so I drove with Nellie and a staff member of our church to Galveston where we promptly loaded up the essentials and though ordered off the island, our daughter didn't want to leave her husband alone and she asked Mom to stay with her promising they would leave a day or so later. They waited until the last possible moment and tried making their way off Galveston into Houston and on to San Marcos. The traffic on Interstate Highway 10 was a nightmare. I got the call to help find them as gas and other necessary items were in scarce supply and so our youth pastor, having a Nissan SUV, offered to drive me to help guide my family home. His SUV had four wheel drive and off we went. Both lanes of I-10 were going the same direction, West, away from the storm. It was really a parking lot moving inch by inch. Our youth pastor made roads where there were none and though we had cell phones they were quickly dying and we did not know where to look. Nellie and Sarai were almost out of gas and they had no cell phone; all the stores in Houston were closed and the few opened had nothing to sell and restrooms were also closed. Kit and I found ourselves in Houston and circling as best we could among stranded cars to find my family. Finally, a call came from our SIL who told us where they were and so we tried making our way to the Love's gas station on the outskirts of Houston. A kind police officer asked Sarai if she needed to use the phone and she said yes and she was the one who called Eric, who in turn called me. Long story short, we found them and made our way back to San Marcos safe and sound. Later as were were sharing our stories, Nellie said the most touching moment as they were in the heat, thirsty and hungry, our daughter asked her, "Daddy will find us, won't he?" Nellie said, "Yes, he will."
Paul writes one of the most relatable sentences in all of Scripture here, and it's almost startling how little it has aged: "I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate" (Romans 7:15, NRSV). This is not the testimony of someone outside the faith, still wrestling with whether to believe. This is Paul — apostle, missionary, theologian — describing an internal conflict so persistent that he can't fully explain it even to himself. If you've ever resolved not to lose your temper and lost it anyway, ever promised yourself you'd be more patient or more generous or more honest and then watched yourself fail within the hour, you already know exactly what Paul is describing. He pushes the description further, almost forensically: "I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it" (Romans 7:18). Notice he doesn't say he lacks the desire to do good — he says the wanting is there, intact, sincere, but something keeps interrupting the follow-through. He names it sin living in him, almost like a tenant who refuses to leave even after the lease has technically ended. There's something at war inside him: "I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members" (Romans 7:23). This is not abstract theology. This is a man describing the exhausting, repetitive battle of trying to be who he knows he's meant to be and discovering that knowledge alone doesn't get him there.
And then the cry that the whole passage has been building toward: "Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?" (Romans 7:24). It's not a rhetorical flourish. It's desperation. Paul has just spent ten verses proving, with airtight logic, that he cannot fix this from the inside. Willpower has hit its ceiling. Self-discipline has hit its ceiling. Knowing the law, loving the law, even delighting in the law in his inmost self — none of it has been enough to break the captivity he's describing. This is the dead end every honest person eventually reaches if they're paying attention to their own heart.
And then, almost without transition, comes the answer: "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!" (Romans 7:25a). The rescue Paul is begging for has already arrived. It didn't come through more effort. It came through a Person. This is precisely why Paul will spend the very next chapter explaining that the Spirit of life has set us free from the law of sin and death — that what willpower could never accomplish, the indwelling Spirit accomplishes by actually relocating the battle. The struggle Paul describes here in chapter 7 is real and ongoing for every believer, but it is not the whole story; it's the story before Pentecost finishes its sentence. The same Spirit poured out in that upper room is the One who now wages this war alongside us, from the inside, so that the cry of "who will rescue me" is met not with another law to try harder at, but with a living Person who has already rescued us and continues to walk with us through every relapse and every small victory.
This passage gives permission to stop pretending the battle is over just because we've been forgiven. It also gives the only honest hope for fighting it: not your own resolve, but Christ, present by His Spirit, already at work in exactly the wretchedness you're tempted to hide.
PRAYER: Lord, when I cannot do the good I want to do, thank You that Your Spirit is already doing in me what I cannot do alone. Thank you for rescuring me when I thought I was totally lost; restore me to the right path and lead me on; in Christ Jesus' strong name we pray, amen.
Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: Name one specific area where you keep doing what you hate, and instead of resolving to try harder, ask the Holy Spirit today to do in you what willpower cannot.
I love you and I thank God for you. You matter to God and you matter to me.
Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.
