Don’t Let It Reign

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Don’t Let It Reign
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Romans 6:12–14 “Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you obey its evil desires. Do not offer any part of yourself to sin as an instrument of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness. For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace.”
Think
There’s a subtle shift in tone here. For most of Romans 6, Paul has been telling us what’s true—what God has already done, what has already changed. But now, he gives us a command. “Do not let sin reign.” The implication? Even though sin is no longer your master, it will try to act like it still is. And if you’re not alert, you might let it.
Paul isn’t suggesting that Christians live in fear of slipping up. He’s showing us the active role we play in our own spiritual formation. Grace is not passive. It doesn’t mean you drift through life hoping holiness happens. It means you step forward each day, empowered by the Spirit, choosing not to let sin rule where it no longer belongs.
“Do not let sin reign in your mortal body.” That word “reign” is royal language. It’s about control, authority, power. Paul is saying sin is like a deposed king trying to reclaim the throne. It can’t rule you unless you let it. It can knock on the door, but you don’t have to answer.
And how do we let sin reign? Paul says it starts when we obey its evil desires. That’s important. Sin doesn’t begin in action—it begins in desire. It starts with something internal, subtle, often disguised as harmless. A little comparison. A silent grudge. A tiny compromise. But desire always moves somewhere. And if it’s not checked, it grows into obedience—not to God, but to sin.
Paul goes deeper. “Do not offer any part of yourself to sin as an instrument of wickedness.” That word “offer” is about surrender. Picture a soldier laying down his weapon, handing it over to the enemy. That’s what happens when we give parts of ourselves—our minds, mouths, bodies, time—to sin. We place something God gave us into the service of something God freed us from.
But Paul doesn’t just say “don’t.” He gives us a powerful alternative. “Offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life.” This isn’t just about avoiding sin. It’s about presenting yourself to God—fully, intentionally, joyfully. Not just your Sunday mornings. Every part of you. Your thoughts. Your conversations. Your reactions. Your relationships. Your plans.
It’s not enough to remove sin’s influence. You have to replace it with God’s presence. And Paul says we do that by offering every part of ourselves as instruments of righteousness.
Think about that word “instrument.” It implies purpose. Use. Activity. An instrument isn’t something you admire on a shelf. It’s something that creates something beautiful when placed in the right hands.
You were not saved just to be forgiven. You were saved to be useful. Not in a performance-driven way, but in a Spirit-empowered way. Your life is now an instrument. Not for sin. For righteousness. For love. For healing. For truth. For grace.
And all of this is possible, Paul says, because “sin shall no longer be your master.” That’s a definitive statement. Sin used to reign. It used to rule. But not anymore. Why? “Because you are not under the law, but under grace.”
That line changes everything. Under the law, you’re constantly striving, always aware of where you fall short. Under grace, you’re secure, fully known and fully loved. Under the law, failure means fear. Under grace, failure is met with forgiveness and a fresh start.
Grace is not soft on sin. It’s just stronger than it. Grace doesn’t excuse disobedience. It empowers obedience. When you believe you are under grace, you stop hiding. You stop pretending. You stop clinging to control. You start living with open hands and a surrendered heart.
And when you mess up—and you will—you don’t run back into shame. You run toward the One who already defeated your shame. You confess. You realign. You offer yourself again.
This is the rhythm of the believer’s life. Not perfection, but persistence. Not earning, but offering. You wake up and say, “God, I give you this day. I give you my thoughts, my eyes, my words, my hands. Use me as your instrument. Let sin have no voice in me. Let your Spirit lead every step.”
You’re not a passive spectator in your spiritual life. You’re an active participant in the Spirit’s work. God has given you the power to say no to sin and yes to righteousness. That power isn’t from your willpower. It’s from his grace.
You don’t fight for victory. You fight from it. Sin is no longer your master. The throne is already taken. Jesus reigns. Grace reigns. And you’ve been raised to live in that kingdom.
So today, offer yourself again. Not reluctantly, but fully. Not fearfully, but freely. Your body, your voice, your life—they’re no longer weapons in the enemy’s hand. They are instruments of righteousness in the hands of a gracious King.
Apply
Pause and pray through each part of your body: “God, I offer you my mind… my eyes… my ears… my mouth… my hands… my feet. Use them today for righteousness.” If there’s one area you’ve been offering to sin, confess it and surrender it again. Grace is stronger.
Pray
God, thank you that sin is no longer my master. I’ve been brought from death to life. Teach me to offer every part of myself to you—not out of guilt, but in gratitude. Use me today as an instrument of righteousness. Let your grace lead me into freedom and faithfulness. In Jesus’ name. Amen.