Can we talk about something that completely rocked my world? It’s this one verse, Galatians 2:20. I know, I know... you're probably thinking, “That’s not exactly headline-grabbing material, Rox” But hang on, because this verse changed how I see everything, my past, my present, and even my (occasionally anxiety-ridden) future.
Here's the verse:
“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”
Sounds intense, right? But also, kind of poetic, like Paul had just come back from a spiritual retreat and was journaling under a tree somewhere. But when I actually sat with it, I felt this verse wrap itself around me like a warm sweater and also hit me like a ton of bricks. (Only the comforting kind.)
Let me break it down the way I felt it, like I’m telling you, my best friend, over coffee. And maybe with a warm cinnamon bun.
First, I have been crucified with Christ…”
Okay, let's just start there. CRUCIFIED. That’s not a casual word. It’s not like “I’ve been mildly inconvenienced with Jesus.” No. Paul is saying the old “me” the one trying to prove myself, fix myself, earn love, impress God, that person is dead. Gone. Crucified.
And you know what? When I first understood that I felt... relieved.
I was exhausted, trying to be good enough. Good enough for people. Good enough for ministry. Good enough for God. When I realized that the old me, the striving, struggling, insecure version, died with Jesus, it was like my soul finally exhaled.
The next thing Paul said was “…and I no longer live…”
If this were the end of the verse, we’d have a serious existential crisis on our hands. But hang on, this isn’t a death sentence, it’s a freedom declaration. What Paul’s saying is: I don’t live for me anymore. I’m not the center of the story. (Thank goodness, because I make a pretty boring main character some days. Ask my wife Jan.)
I don’t have to live based on my performance, my failures, my past. That’s not my identity anymore. Isn’t that wild? We spend so much time trying to figure out who we are... and here Paul is saying: “Actually, the real you was born when the old you died.”
Third point he made was “…but Christ lives in me.”
Now this part makes me want to ugly cry (in a good way). Jesus lives in me. Not beside me, not cheering from the sidelines, in me, in you.
Wow!
That means we are never alone. Even when we feel like a hot mess. Even when we can’t remember the last time we prayed without getting distracted by TV or what’s in the fridge.
He’s not renting space in our heart, He moved in, flipped the furniture, painted the walls, and made it His home in us. He knows all the messy rooms and loves us still. That kind of closeness? It’s everything.
Fourth he says, “The life I now live in the body…”
So yes, I’m still here. Still navigating real stuff. Bills. Disappointments. Weird foot rashes. (Too real?) I still have a body that aches and emotions that go a little haywire sometimes. But something’s changed.
This life is no longer powered by me. It’s fueled by Someone much stronger, kinder, wiser, and honestly, much more patient. (Bless Him for that.)
Next, Paul said, “…I live by faith in the Son of God…”
Faith. Not perfection. Not willpower. Not controlled. And definitely not having all the answers. (Thank goodness because I still don’t know how to fold a towel; again, ask my wife.)
I live this new life by leaning, sometimes clumsily, on Jesus. Trusting that He’s got this. That He’s got me. And some days, that faith looks like a joyful dance. Other days, it’s a whisper: “Help.”
And both count.
Then he said, “…who loved me and gave himself for me.”
Can we just sit here for a sec?
He loved me. Not “loves” in a distant, religious sort of way, but loved me enough to give everything. Even when I didn’t love Him back. Even when I doubted, resisted, and wandered off doing my own thing.
He didn’t give up on me. He gave Himself for me. For me, that hits deep.
And here’s the thing that makes me teary: He didn’t do it because I’m especially holy or talented or got it all figured out. (And all that know me knows that’s true), He did it because that’s who He is. Love, through and through.
So now what?
Now, I live like someone who already died and found a better life on the other side. Not perfect. Not always pretty. But free. And that freedom? It looks like peace in the chaos. Hope in the dark. Grace when I mess up. Joy that doesn’t make sense at times.
My friend, It’s not about trying harder. It’s about trusting deeper.
If you’re reading this and thinking, “I wish I felt that kind of closeness with God,” I get it. I’ve been there. But let me tell you, it’s not about you climbing up some spiritual ladder. It’s about realizing He already climbed down to meet you. And greater yet, in you!
You’ve already been loved. Already been chosen. Already been crucified with Him.
And now? Now you’re alive in a whole new way.
So, grab that cinnamon bun, smile at the beautiful mess you are, and breathe in the truth: Jesus lives in you.
And, my friend, that does change everything.
RJ (Rox) Nolin
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