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Romans 7:23–24 “But I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?”

Think

There are moments in the life of every believer when the weight of inner conflict becomes overwhelming. You’re doing everything you know to do. You’ve prayed, repented, memorized Scripture, set boundaries, and even reached out for help. But still, the struggle remains. Still, the pull of sin feels close. Still, your heart feels split between what you know is true and what you find yourself doing. And at some point, you begin to ask the question Paul asks here: “Who will rescue me?”

Paul is not talking about mild frustration. This is not a passing annoyance with his behavior. This is anguish. “What a wretched man I am!” he cries. Not because he hates himself, but because he’s exhausted by the war within. He sees the standard of God’s holiness. He knows the goodness of God’s law. And yet, his daily experience feels like captivity. There’s a part of him that still feels enslaved, still feels defeated, still feels trapped.

We live in a world that loves to sell self-improvement. From morning routines to productivity hacks, we’re constantly told that the key to life is found in trying harder, managing better, and thinking more positively. But Paul’s words push back on all of that. He’s not asking, “How do I fix this?” He’s crying out, “Who will rescue me?” Because deep down, he knows that what he’s facing isn’t a project to manage. It’s a war that needs divine intervention.

The war Paul talks about is not external. It’s internal. “Another law at work in me,” he says. There’s the law of his mind—his knowledge of the truth, his love for God’s ways—and then there’s the law of sin, which keeps rising up inside him, pulling him in the opposite direction. It’s not just that he occasionally stumbles. It’s that he feels torn in two, as if two forces are fighting for control.

And that’s exactly what many of us feel, especially as we grow in faith. The more we know Jesus, the more aware we become of how much we need him. The closer we draw to the light, the more we see the shadows within. That awareness isn’t a sign of regression. It’s a sign of awakening.

It’s easy to look at the language Paul uses and think it sounds extreme. “Wretched.” “Prisoner.” “Rescue.” But that’s exactly the point. He’s not softening his words. He’s not cleaning up the mess. He’s showing us what it looks like to reach the end of ourselves. And for many, that’s the most terrifying place to be. But in the gospel, it’s also the most hopeful.

Because when you stop pretending you can save yourself, you finally become open to a Savior. When you admit that the war is too big for your strength, you open your hands to the power of God. Paul is not hopeless here. He’s honest. And that honesty leads him somewhere beautiful. We’ll see that in the very next verse.

But for now, we need to sit in the weight of his question. “Who will rescue me?” Not “What can I do?” Not “What method will work?” But “Who?” This is personal. This is relational. This is the kind of desperation that no strategy can satisfy. Paul knows that his problem is not merely behavioral. It is spiritual. He doesn’t need a coach. He needs a Redeemer.

If you’ve ever felt like giving up because of the ongoing presence of sin in your life, you’re not alone. Paul felt that way too. And he was not weak. He was not spiritually immature. He was not disqualified. He was human. A saved, sealed, Spirit-filled follower of Jesus who still felt the pull of death inside him.

And that tension is actually a gift. Because it breaks the illusion that we can clean ourselves up. It leads us to the end of self-reliance. And it drives us to cry out for rescue.

Think of someone drowning. They don’t ask for a manual. They don’t request a lesson on technique. They cry out for a rescuer. They know their survival depends not on what they can do, but on who will come for them. That’s the posture Paul takes here. And it’s the same posture God invites us to take every day.

The question isn’t whether you’ll ever feel torn in two. You will. The question is whether you’ll pretend to be fine or reach out for help. Whether you’ll keep trying to manage your sin or surrender it to the only One strong enough to break it.

You may feel worn out by the war inside you. You may be tired of trying to fight with your own strength. But God is not tired of you. He is not disappointed by your weakness. He is not surprised by your struggle. He is near. And he loves to meet people in the place where they finally say, “I can’t do this anymore.” Because that’s where rescue begins.

Apply

Take a few minutes in quiet today and speak Paul’s question out loud: “Who will rescue me?” Don’t rush to the answer. Let yourself feel the weight of it. Then write down what areas of your life feel like a war zone. Name where you feel divided or torn. Bring those places to God without shame and ask him to do what only he can—rescue you.

Pray

God, I feel the war inside me. I want to follow you, but I keep getting pulled in other directions. I’m tired of trying to manage my sin. I need rescue. Thank you for not walking away from the mess. Thank you for coming close to the broken. Meet me here in the middle of my weakness and begin your work of freedom in me. In Jesus’ name. Amen.