Every serious believer has prayed for God to kill their flesh.
When we pray that prayer, we expect an anesthetic or a kill switch. We imagine a painless transaction where God quietly turns down the volume on our worst impulses, leaving our pride and self-image undisturbed.
Instead, He answers with a mirror and a scalpel.
We often approach God believing we already know where the flesh is weak. We identify it only by its loud, embarrassing symptoms: an unexpected temper, a secret spiral, or a compulsive habit. We point to the visible stain and assume we’ve diagnosed the disease.
But those symptoms are often merely the tip of an iceberg. Beneath them lies a massive stronghold of entitlement, self-preservation, and an obsession with being sovereign over our own lives.
Before the flesh can be put to death, its true perimeter has to be mapped. And mapping it means total, humiliating exposure. The mirror is the word of God, and James warns that the man who glances into it and walks away forgets what he saw (James 1:23-24). When this prayer is answered, He doesn't let us walk away.
C.S. Lewis described this bargain in Mere Christianity. As a boy with a toothache, he knew that asking his mother for aspirin meant being taken to the dentist the next morning, he couldn't get the one without the other.
We go to God begging for painkillers just to sleep through the night, and like the dentist, He refuses to stop at comfort. He goes straight for the root, refusing to leave the rot inside us.
When that divine surgery begins, the flesh never lies down and dies with dignity.
Starved of oxygen, it thrashes like a cornered animal, manufacturing sudden panic, defensiveness, and desperate cravings. When God sends the help you asked for, a spouse asking an honest question, a mentor seeing through your facade, an accountability partner refusing to flatter you; your dying ego perceives executioners where God sent allies.
To protect itself from crucifixion, the flesh bites whatever hand is closest. Many friendships and marriages become collateral damage simply because an exposed ego is swinging wildly in the dark.
So what must our posture be when the exposure hits, the ground gives way, and we begin to spiral?
Our natural instinct is to negotiate our way off the table: "Lord, make it stop. Put the mask back on. Give me relief." But true mortification requires that you stop defending what God has marked for death.
Paul says it is by the Spirit that we put to death the deeds of the body (Romans 8:13), which means the scalpel is in His hand and our only assignment is to stop wrestling Him for it. Heroic willpower has no part here; the posture is trembling, defenseless stillness. It is the agonizing willingness to agree with God’s verdict about who you actually are apart from Him.
When exposure makes you dizzy with shame and the urge to lash out rises, you stop bargaining for an exit. The plea nust shift from relief to endurance: the grace to stay still while the rot is cut out, the restraint not to strike the people God sent to steady you, and the resolve not to crawl off the table until the work is finished.
If you asked God to kill your flesh and you suddenly feel unmasked, disoriented, and weaker than you have ever been, do not mistake exposure for abandonment, or confrontation with your weakness for defeat. The prayer did not fail.
God just took you at your word, and He loves you too much to patch up the very self you asked Him to crucify.
I remember, first encounter of this in highschool I was feeling like being operated on inside, it felt like a medical surgery with very excruciating pain, I came to realise that It was process for dying to self. I jumped into the flow after noticing some transformations.
When Christ was on the cross, enduring the worst of human suffering, He said something that rocks me to this day.
“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”
The Lord my God, in the midst of unimaginable suffering, spoke from a position of MERCY. Yet so many who profess to follow Him conduct themselves no differently from the world.
You see, studying Matthew 5 revealed something profound to me. We have been set free from the condemnation of the law, but grace does not lower the standard of righteousness. It reveals a DEPTH of righteousness that goes beyond outward obedience and reaches the very condition of the heart.
This is why Jesus says in verse 20:
“For I say to you that unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
Now, that might be difficult to comprehend until you read what He says next.
He reveals that you do not have to physically commit murder to stand guilty before God. Even the anger you harbour in your heart is a matter of divine judgement.
DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE DEPTH OF THIS TEACHING?
Jesus wasn’t merely addressing our actions. He was exposing the condition of the heart from which those actions proceed.
He revealed the true depth of God’s righteousness, showing us why grace is not merely necessary but absolutely indispensable.
And yet, this is the very grace we take for granted. Even worse, we refuse to extend it to others, as though we have forgotten what it COST the Lord to extend it to us.
To those who profess Christ while approaching Him with hearts of stone, understand something: Knowing about God is not the same as being known by Him.
You can know Scripture, speak of righteousness and even condemn the sins of others, yet remain completely deceived by your own self-righteousness because you never truly surrendered your heart.
Read Matthew 5 THOROUGHLY.
The reason you are called to carry your cross and walk in love, mercy and forgiveness is because the King of Kings demonstrated these very things towards you when He owed you absolutely NOTHING.
We are not called to merely profess Christ. We are called to become like Him.
May the Lord give us understanding. ✝️
Jesus: no serious crimes. Temple disruption at most disorderly conduct. Preaching is protected speech.
Muhammad: statutory rape (Aisha consummated at 9, Sahih Bukhari), polygamy, slavery and sex with captives, ordered Banu Qurayza executions (hundreds of men after surrender), raids, torture.
Jesus is the better person by modern US law and standards of consent and nonviolence.
I spent the last month looking into FIFA's proposed FFE, the criticism it faced and what it could have meant for football. Now that the dust has settled, I’ve written about what the proposal tells us about the future of the game. https://t.co/zqQUjBfFEp
A God too great to suffer cannot be the God of suffering people. Let Him be the God of angels and of bliss. A God of suffering people must suffer.
Any god that lays claim to creation but has never braved incarnation is a coward. And any righteousness that has never been tested in the flesh is merely theoretical.
The Creator set the parameters of human consciousness: he gave us fragile bodies, nerves that register agony, and finite minds.
Then He gave us our basic moral vocabulary:
Courage means facing danger when you have something to lose. Integrity means holding the line when it costs you. Love means making yourself vulnerable for someone else.
You do not get to build the room, lock the door from the outside, demand that we live by your definitions at the cost of our lives, and then claim you are exempt from the meaning of words you invented.
Servants of gods who have never suffered tell us not to judge their gods by earthly experience and promise that the afterlife will make all things right
That promise collapses on its own terms.
A ruler's character does not do a complete 180 at the grave. If a god stays safe while we bleed, his eternity reads as hush money, a payoff tossed at broken creatures to buy their silence.
If he can dismiss horrific grief down here as an inscrutable mystery, what stops him from doing the exact same thing ten billion years into eternity? You cannot trust the promises of a sovereign whose moral integrity you are forbidden from verifying.
The ancients never asked their gods to suffer. Their deities ruled through raw power and total detachment; nobody expected heaven to have a conscience.
It took modern exhaustion for humanity to finally put the charge as a dare: if you think this existence is so easy, take on flesh and do it yourself.
The staggering reality of the gospel is that God called our bluff two thousand years before we were brave enough to speak it.
And He did not send a surrogate. If God sent an angel or a prophet into our realm while He waited outside, the charge of cowardice would still stand. Christianity alone claims that the uncreated Architect entered His own building (John 1:14).
Christ refused to treat divinity as armor (Philippians 2:6-8). Because the children had flesh and blood, He shared in the exact same humanity (Hebrews 2:14). He sweated blood in Gethsemane, the Lawgiver stood in the dock of a corrupt court, and the Author let the actors nail Him to the stage.
When He beat death, He kept the damage. He showed Thomas the puncture wounds in His hands and His side (John 20:27). Even when the veil of eternity is pulled back in Revelation 5:6, the figure at the center of the throne is a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain. The collateral for eternity has been posted in historical blood.
This is why suffering people can be overwhelmingly proud to call this God our God.
Every other faith asks us to spend our lives apologizing for an aloof deity, rationalizing His absence and defending a spectator who never stepped into the fire.
The cross kills that shame forever.
We bow to a King who left the bunker, walked into the shrapnel, and earned the right to look a suffering race in the eye.
When suffering humanity stands at the end of time and asks heaven, "What do you know about pain?", Christ will hold out scarred hands.