We can lay down our sledgehammers of moralistic performance, which aren’t effective anyway, and we can trust that we are his and his life is ours.
It can’t be overstated how important it is to remember that the gospel is not mere information. The good news of Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection is factual and historical, yes, but the Christian faith isn’t a faith of facts alone. Rather, the facts of the gospel are what let us see and believe in the gospel as God’s “dynamic” word of life (Col. 2:13). Put differently, the gospel is the sort of news bulletin that changes everything — it does something to you and in you, remaking you from the inside out. It’s a word of life that brings the dead back to life by giving them the life of the one who died for them. But here’s a good question: What does this “new life” in Christ look like?
Dying to Live
This, of course, is the focus of Colossians 3, where Paul builds upon the foundation of the gospel of grace to show the congregation at Colossae the beauty of life as it is found in Christ alone, which he describes as setting one’s mind “on things that are above” (Col. 3:2). Inquiring minds are likely eager to know what such a life entails, and what our involvement in it might look like. At first, Paul appears to put the burden of salvific responsibility back on the shoulders of the Colossians themselves when he urges them to “put to death” what is earthly in them (Col. 3:5). “Yes, Christ forgave you,” he seems to say, “but if you really want to escape the wrath of God, it’s on you to ‘put to death’ the sin that is in you. Every last speck of it. That’s what’s required.”
There is, of course, some truth to this, but probably not in the way you’re thinking. If you were to isolate what Paul says in verses 5 and 8 from their surroundings, it might feel as though he’s rehearsing what the syncretists were doing, offering tips, techniques, and “to-dos” for soaring spiritual growth. But this is why it’s so crucial to read the Bible in context, especially since Paul has just finished clarifying that no amount of moral effort or “asceticism” can ever put an end to “the indulgence of the flesh” (Col. 2:23). So, what gives? Is Paul going back on what he just said? Is he contradicting himself? Paul has previously claimed that we have already died — past-tense — to all of these things with Christ (Col. 2:20–22; 3:3). Is sanctification just a process of beating a dead horse? Why are we putting to death that which was already put to death?
God’s Demo Day
The phrase “put to death” means either “to make dead” or “to mortify,” which is where we get the biblical notion of “mortification,” referring to the subduing of our sinful nature. Naturally, we put ourselves in the driver’s seat for that process, understanding Paul to mean, “You have to put to death what’s earthly in you.” “You are required to put away all these things, and if you don’t, you’d better watch out!” And while this may be a very customary way to read this text, it’s not entirely accurate. If we’re not careful, we’ll begin to see ourselves as the ones doing all the killing, making mortification a spiritual process wherein we are the ones with axes hacking down the weeds of sin that keep cropping up in our lives. Consequently, this would mean that one’s life of faith is dependent on one going all “Chip Gaines” on one’s heart and soul.
There’s a reason why Paul begins his description of the “new life” by talking about what needs to be “put to death,” though — namely, because no amount of moralistic plaster can result in the new life that Christ wants to give you. Telling folks how to live better without telling them that they must die before they can truly live is futile. It’s “of no value” (Col. 2:23). Accordingly, the gospel isn’t a message of mere behavior modification. Neither is it a message of “sin management.” “The old man,” R. C. H. Lenski comments, “is not converted, he cannot be; he is not renewed, he cannot be. He can only be replaced by the new man, by a creative act of God and by no less” [1] The gospel is about death and resurrection. The good news is that “you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Col. 3:3; cf. 2:12–13). By faith, sinners repent and believe in the fact that the death and resurrection of Christ is theirs as well. It’s precisely through his cross and empty tomb that our “old selves” are “put off” and the “new selves” are put on (Col. 2:9–10). This, we might say, is God’s “demo day,” where the old is gutted to make way for the new (2 Cor. 5:17).
Renovated by Grace
Needless to say, Paul isn’t articulating salvation by way of being moral or virtuous, nor is he promoting some sort of Pharisaical zeal for fixing up the outside. Rather, he’s talking about something so much truer, deeper, and better, wherein Christ the Savior is also the renovator of our souls, renewing us after the image of our Creator (Col. 3:10). The salient word in verse 10 is “renewed,” which means to “reinvigorate,” “restore,” or “breathe new life into.” But, at the risk of boring you with some grammar, it’s significant to note that “renewed” is a verb in the passive voice. In other words, the process of renewal is one that is done to us. The “new self” is something we receive.
To be more precise with it, the gospel is the good news that God has come down in the person of Jesus to rescue sinners from their old selves by paying the ultimate price: his very life. In so doing, he gives us a new nature, which is akin to giving us his righteousness. And so begins God’s process of renewing every sinner to restore in them his image, the Imago Dei. That which was tarnished by our first parents is that which God becomes incarnate in Christ to repair. He’s the one who is “making all things new” (Rev. 21:5). Like Chip Gaines, the Word and the Spirit are sent to us to do God’s demo work on us and in us, putting us back together.
The process of renewal is one that is done to us. The “new self” is something we receive.
The perfect life, death, and resurrection of Christ is what jumpstarts the renewal of all things, us included. Where humankind is enslaved to the old self, God in Christ comes to do what it can’t do for itself. He comes to bury that old nature of sin and sedition, to kill the old self, so that he can raise up the new self in us. Jesus doesn’t show up to offer a Band-Aid for the problem of sin, nor does he bring a dose of “spiritual life hacks” that promise deliverance if followed correctly. Instead, he comes offering himself as the precise remedy the world needs and the only one that will truly work. He comes, in other words, to “put to death what is earthly in you.”
The good news is that the burden of putting sin to death has already been borne for us. Your old self has died, and your new self is hidden with Christ in God (Col. 3:3). You who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires (Gal. 5:24). Mortification, therefore, isn’t necessarily something we perform on ourselves, nor is it accomplished by composing longer checklists of spiritual self-discipline that measure spiritual performance. Rather, mortification means confronting the residue of sin and unbelief that remains in us with a fresh reminder of the gospel. It means “seeking the things that are above” and being reminded daily that with Christ we’ve already died and risen again.
The Lies of the Old Adam
Consequently, “putting to death what is earthly in you” is the conscious recognition of the powerlessness of all the things that still try to win you over. Part of Satan’s strategy is to convince you that the things to which you are dead are actually still your master; that you’re still enslaved to them. For the most part, his scheme is all about tricking you into believing that life is found in your “old self,” so go ahead and chase what appeals to the old you — namely, yourself. “The old Adam in us,” James A. Nestingen and Gerhard O. Forde incisively write, “makes us concerned first, foremost, and always about ourselves.” [2] Sin’s allure is that life gets better when you get what you want, when you accumulate for yourself, and when you please yourself.
* Your preferences are priority number one.
* Your pleasure is what matters most.
* So take what doesn’t belong to you.
* Give in, lie, and take that second look.
This is the way of death. There’s no life to be found in getting for yourself, taking for yourself, or putting yourself first. Those are the lies of the “old self” — the “old self” that was crucified with Christ to make way for the new. You’ve been given a new nature. The “old self” has no hold over you anymore. So, look to and pursue the Christ of God “who is your life” (Col. 3:4). He’s all that matters anyway. “This God-man is the Christ,” Lenski says, “who is everything in every way.” [3] He is “all, and in all” (Col. 3:11).
Nineteenth-century Baptist minister Octavius Winslow once put it like this:
Look from everything to Christ. Look not within for sanctification; look for it from Christ. He is as much our ‘sanctification’ as he is our ‘righteousness.’ Your evidences, your comfort, your hope, do not spring from your fruitfulness, your mortification, or anything within you; but solely and entirely from the Lord Jesus Christ. “Looking unto Jesus” by faith, is like removing the covering and opening the windows of a conservatory, to admit more freely the sun, beneath whose light and warmth the flowers and fruits expand and mature. Withdraw the veil that conceals the Sun of Righteousness, and let Him shine in upon your soul, and the mortification of all sin will follow, and the fruits of all holiness will abound. [4]
Already Dead, Already New
We kill sin by recognizing that we are already dead to it in Christ. He took the old you and buried it in the tomb where his body lay for three days, and that’s where he left it when he walked out of that grave. As much as your “old self” wants to wreak havoc on you and in you, through God’s word of life, power, and promise, we are made to see that new life in Christ is best lived when we stop propping up the “old” and instead trust fully we are the “new.” Our life of faith and our new life in and with Christ is principally about hearing that announcement.
We are made to see that new life in Christ is best lived when we stop propping up the “old” and instead trust fully we are the “new.”
The good news is that Christ isn’t waiting for you to get your act together before he starts this process. He doesn’t stay away until you’re finally able to scrape off enough layers of the “old self” to be worthy of him. “He’s not waiting for you to come up with enough belief or trust on your own,” Nestingen and Forde conclude. “He gives what he commands, making a believer out of you by putting the old Adam to death and raising up the new you with his gifts.” [5] What’s left for us is to trust in and walk in light of the announcement that Christ has done the work, and we are already new in him. And what does that look like?
It looks like throwing yourself on the grace of the one who took your death as his own and is, even now, making you new — not because of your effort, but through his inexhaustible mercy. The more we listen to the words of the gospel, the more eager we’ll be to stop trying to be our own renovators. We can lay down our sledgehammers of moralistic performance, which aren’t effective anyway, and we can trust that we are his and his life is ours. We can put to death what is earthly in us, knowing, in Christ, it is already dead.[1] R. C. H. Lenski, The Interpretation of St. Paul’s Epistles to the Colossians, to the Thessalonians, to Timothy, to Titus, and to Philemon (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg, 1961), 162.
[2] James A. Nestingen and Gerhard O. Forde, Free to Be: A Handbook to Luther’s Small Catechism (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Publishing, 1975), 72.
[3] Lenski, 165.
[4] Octavius Winslow, Morning Thoughts; or, Daily Walking with God (London: John F. Shaw, 1857), 671.
[5] Nestingen and Forde, 164.
