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What if the struggle isn't evidence that God is done with you — but proof that He's still working in you?
What would you think of a pastor who stood in front of his entire congregation and said: "I am a mess. I do the very things I hate. I can't stop doing wrong and I can't seem to do right. What a wretched man I am."
You might whisper to the person next to you. You might wonder if he should still be behind the pulpit. You might lose a little confidence.
But here's the thing — that's exactly what the Apostle Paul did. In Romans chapter 7, the man who planted churches across the Roman Empire, the most prolific Christian writer in the New Testament, opens up about his inner warfare with a vulnerability that is almost jarring.
"I do not understand what I do. What I want to do, I do not do. But what I hate, I keep on doing." — Romans 7:15
And later: "What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?" — Romans 7:24
This is Paul. The Paul. And he's confessing that he is, by his own admission, in a constant battle between who he wants to be and what he keeps doing.
Why does this matter? Because most of us have been convinced that the struggle disqualifies us. That the fact we keep falling, keep failing, keep doing the thing we swore we'd stop — means we're too far gone. That maybe God is done with us. That we need to get it together before we can really come to God, or really be used by God.
But Paul's confession in Romans 7 doesn't disqualify him. It reveals him. It shows us that spiritual maturity isn't the absence of struggle — it's the honesty to name it.
Here's the key: Paul could only be this honest because of what was already settled back in Romans 5. The love was already established. The grace was already poured out. The justification was already declared.
"Paul didn't confess his warfare from insecurity. He confessed it from a place of divine security. He understood the work of the cross had already settled his destination — so his current state didn't define where he was going." — Pastor Terrence Sims
That's the thing about God's love. First Peter 4:8 says love covers a multitude of sins. In the Greek, the word "covers" doesn't mean to hide or sweep under a rug. It means to shelter. To canopy. Love creates a covering under which our humanity can be acknowledged, confessed — and yes, transformed. But it starts with being honest enough to say: I'm not who I want to be yet. I'm in the middle of something. I'm struggling.
You cannot be honest about your humanity until you are secure in God's love for you. When you don't know you're loved first, confession becomes performance. It becomes auditioning — trying to say the right thing and hoping God accepts it. But when you know the verdict is already in, when you know there's nothing you can do to earn salvation, then confession becomes freedom. You're not trying to get something. You're just being real with Someone who already knows, already loves, and already stayed.
The war in Romans 7 is real. If you've found yourself doing what you don't want to do — welcome to the human race, and welcome to good theological company. The struggle doesn't disqualify you. It actually positions you for the most important declaration in all of Paul's writing.
Reflect on This
Where have you been carrying shame about a struggle instead of bringing it honestly before God? What would it mean to confess not to earn forgiveness — but because you already have it?
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