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Short Summary
This article argues that many Christians hide ongoing surrender to sin behind the phrase “I’m struggling,” and calls men to replace passive struggle with active, Spirit-empowered war against sin through radical, concrete measures that “slaughter” every provision made for the flesh.
Key Takeaways
- “Struggling with sin” can become camouflage for repeated surrender, masking inaction with spiritual-sounding language.
- Scripture describes our relationship to indwelling sin in violent terms like “put to death” and “wage war,” leaving no room for neutral coexistence.
- Mortification means killing sin’s power and opportunities, not managing it or learning to live with it.
- We “make provision for the flesh” through subtle choices: unfiltered smartphones, social media habits, entertainment, relationships, and money that quietly support temptation.
- Radical amputation is often necessary: cutting off access, installing serious safeguards, confessing immediately, and pursuing real accountability with godly, truth-telling believers.
- True mortification is “by the Spirit”; you bring the resolve and practical steps, but only the Holy Spirit can supply real power and lasting victory.
- Unmortified sin weakens your spiritual strength and darkens your sense of God’s love and favor, while mortification leads to real spiritual life, intimacy with God, and joy.
- There is no neutral ground: you are either actively killing sin, or sin is actively killing you, so daily self-examination and decisive action are essential.
How many times have you heard it? “I’m struggling with sin.” The words come out naturally in a Bible study, at a counseling session, or in a confessional moment with a friend. But here’s the problem: that word, “struggling,” has become a euphemism. A convenient way to describe surrender while sounding like resistance.
“I’m struggling with sin” often really means: “I’m giving in to sin over and over and over again. I might have good intentions, but I’m not doing anything about it.”
If this is you, this post is an invitation out of the language of defeat and into the language of war.
When Struggle Becomes Surrender
The apostle Paul doesn’t use the word “struggle” when he addresses the reality of indwelling sin. He uses violence.
“For if you are living according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.” (Romans 8:13, ESV)
That word, “put to death,” comes from the Greek “thanato,” the root of “Thanos,” the Marvel villain bent on the total destruction of his enemies. There’s nothing gentle about it. There’s no negotiation. The apostle Paul is calling believers to war.
John Owen, the 17th-century Puritan theologian, spent an entire treatise unpacking this single reality. To mortify sin, he wrote, means to “take away all of sin’s strength, vigor, and power, so that it cannot act or exert on its own.” You don’t wound sin. You don’t manage sin. You kill it.
And yet, most of us treat sin like a roommate we tolerate rather than an enemy we annihilate.
The Enemy You’re Actually Fighting
Here’s what makes mortification urgent: sin doesn’t take days off.
Even after conversion, even after decades of walking with Christ, sin remains in your body like an occupying force. It doesn’t politely announce its presence. It doesn’t shrink away when you ignore it. Owen noted with striking accuracy: “Sin is never less quiet than when it seems most quiet. Its waters are deepest when they are still.”
Think of King David at the height of his spiritual power. He’d already written nearly half the Psalms in Scripture. He was the anointed king of Israel. And yet when he was left alone, when he took one day off from vigilance, sin struck with devastating force. He saw Bathsheba, desired her, committed adultery, and then murdered her husband to cover it up.
Sin doesn’t work in loud, obvious ways. It works in shadows. It works when you’re confident. It works when you’re busy. It works when you think you’ve outgrown temptation.
The apostle Peter understood this. He wrote: “Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.” (1 Peter 2:11, ESV) Notice the language: wage war. Your flesh doesn’t negotiate with your spirit. It doesn’t compromise. It wages war against the deepest part of who you are.
And it will win. If you simply “struggle.”
The Daily Death
“Every day you take a day off from mortifying the flesh, the flesh grows.” This is John Owen’s most famous statement, and it’s worth meditating on. There is no neutral ground in the Christian life. You are either actively killing sin, or sin is actively killing you. The battle never pauses. The ceasefire never comes. Not until you stand before Christ.
Consider the language Scripture uses. Colossians 3:5 says, “Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry.” (Colossians 3:5, ESV) In Ephesians 4, Paul calls believers to “put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires.” (Ephesians 4:22, ESV) And Jesus Himself uses imagery that makes us uncomfortable:
“If your right eye causes you to stumble, tear it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.” (Matthew 18:8-9, ESV paraphrased)
This is not the gentle Christ of greeting cards. This is the Christ who will not tolerate sin’s presence in your life. And He uses extreme language about extreme measures because the stakes are eternal.
Yet somewhere along the way, the church softened the language. We started talking about “managing” sin. We began offering therapy instead of truth. We replaced mortification with management, and the result is what we see today: believers who have learned to live with sin rather than kill it.
The Inventory: Making Provision for the Flesh
This brings us to the question that should stop you cold.
What are the sneaky ways I make provision for the flesh? And what does it mean to slaughter those ways?
These aren’t rhetorical questions. They demand answers. Real answers. Specific answers.
Paul writes in Romans 13:14: “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.” (Romans 13:14, ESV) The word “provision” is crucial. You’re not just avoiding the sin itself. You’re eliminating the paths that lead to it.
Think about how this works practically. Making provision for the flesh means:
- Keeping your smartphone in your pocket 24/7 when it’s the primary instrument of your stumbling
- Continuing to follow accounts on social media that feed lust or envy
- Staying in relationships that normalize sin
- Watching shows you know will compromise your mind
- Keeping money set aside for secret indulgences
- Maintaining access to the very thing you claim to be fighting
Joel Beeke, a contemporary pastor/author, puts it this way: “Sometimes we shut the window on sin, but we leave a little crack. Shut the window. Shut it all the way.”
We don’t shut the window. We leave cracks. We leave backdoors. We tell ourselves we have the willpower to handle it. We make provision for sin and then act surprised when sin wins.
But here’s the thing: you don’t have the willpower. Neither do I. That’s not pessimism. That’s the gospel.
Slaughtering Provision: Radical Amputation
If the question is “What does it mean to slaughter these ways?” the answer is: whatever it takes.
Jesus wasn’t exaggerating. If your right hand causes you to stumble, the solution isn’t better willpower or an accountability app, though those can help. The solution is amputation. Radical. Decisive. Complete.
One pastor put it starkly to his congregation: “Listen, if your phone causes you to stumble, get a flip phone. It is better for you to enter heaven with a flip phone than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.”
That’s not hyperbole. That’s proportion. That’s understanding that nothing, no convenience, no connection, no capability, is worth your soul.
What does this look like in real life? It means:
Filter everything. If you struggle with lust, install software that sends reports of everything you look at to accountability partners. Make anonymity impossible. Remove the option of secrecy.
Cut off access. Can’t download apps? Don’t give yourself the option. Use a flip phone. Set parental controls on your own devices. Make the path to sin harder than the path to holiness.
Confess immediately. When you fail, and you will, don’t hide it. Drag it into the light. Confession isn’t just about the past. It’s about dismantling sin’s power, which thrives in darkness.
Get accountability that matters. Not a group of friends with the same struggles affirming each other’s sin. Get someone godlier than you. Someone whose opinion matters. Someone you don’t want to disappoint. This is why the New Testament calls for confessing “to one another,” (James 5:16, ESV) not just any other, but someone whose spiritual maturity intimidates you into obedience.
The theme throughout Scripture is consistent: extreme measures for extreme problems. Because sin is an extreme problem.
The War You Can’t Win Alone
Here’s where hope enters the picture.
Yes, you’re in a war. Yes, the enemy is powerful and relentless and subtle. Yes, sin will kill you if you give it an inch. But you’re not fighting this war in your own strength.
Romans 8:13 doesn’t just command mortification. It reveals the means: “If by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.” (Romans 8:13, ESV)
The same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead, the same power that broke through the finality of death itself, dwells in you if you’re a believer. That’s not metaphor. That’s not poetic language. That’s the actual power available to you right now.
John Owen was clear about this: “Without the spirit of God, it is like a person that attempts to restrain the flesh by countless and bewildering rituals. Being strangers to the spirit of God, all of this is done in vain.”
You can white-knuckle your way to temporary obedience. You can manage sin through willpower and discipline. But if you’re not plugged into the power of the Holy Spirit, you cannot in a biblical sense mortify sin.
The warfare is yours to wage. The victory is God’s to grant. And He grants it through the Spirit to those who trust Him.
This is why Paul can write in Philippians 2: “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” (Philippians 2:12-13, ESV) It sounds contradictory. Work hard, but God is working. That’s because mortification isn’t your work alone. It’s the synergistic work of your will, renewed and empowered by the Spirit, aligned with God’s purposes.
You bring the determination. You bring the practical measures. You bring the confession. You bring the willingness to amputate what needs to be amputated. And the Spirit brings the power that makes it all effective.
What’s Really at Stake
Why does this matter so much? Why all the violent language? Why the urgency?
Because unmortified sin has two devastating effects on your soul.
First, it weakens you. It drains your spiritual vigor. You can’t look up. You can’t run hard after God. The Psalmist captured this when he wrote: “When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy on me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer.” (Psalm 32:3-4, ESV) You don’t just lose victory over sin. You lose your ability to function as a Christian. Your testimony dies. Your usefulness to Christ evaporates.
Second, it darkens you. Owen described it as “a thick cloud that spreads itself over the face of the soul and blocks all the light of God’s love and favor.” Sin puts distance between you and God. Not positionally. God is still with you, still bound to you if you’re in Christ. But practically, intimately, consciously? The cloud rolls in. You can’t feel His presence. You can’t sense His favor. You lose the assurance that you belong to Him.
But here’s the promise attached to mortification:
“You will live.” (Romans 8:13, ESV)
Not just spiritually survive. Live. With spiritual vibrancy. With intimacy with God. With the consciousness of His presence and favor. Matthew 5:8 promises: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” (Matthew 5:8, ESV) Not just at the end of time, but now. A deeper knowledge of God. A more exhaustive understanding. A tasting of His goodness rather than merely affirming it as true.
The stakes of this war aren’t just about avoiding hell. They’re about experiencing heaven now. They’re about intimacy with God. About freedom. About power. About joy.
The Daily Question
So here’s where we land: not with a soft admonition to try harder, but with a hard question that demands a hard answer.
Every day, you face a choice. Every morning when you wake up, you’re either going to take up arms against the sin that dwells in you, or you’re going to make provision for it.
Ask yourself:
- What are the sneaky ways I’m making provision for the flesh right now?
- What habits have I normalized?
- What apps are still on my phone?
- What shows am I still watching?
- What relationships am I still nurturing that feed my sin?
- What secret place do I have that I think no one knows about?
And then ask the harder question:
- What does it mean to slaughter those ways?
- What would it look like to take radical, decisive action?
- Am I willing to do whatever it takes?
Because here’s the truth John Owen spent his whole life trying to communicate: “Be killing sin or sin will be killing you.”
There is no third option. There is no neutral ground. You’re either in the war, or you’ve already surrendered.
The Promise
If you’re tired of “struggling,” if you’re tired of the language of defeat masquerading as the language of battle, there’s a better way.
It’s the way of mortification. The way of violent, aggressive, relentless war against the sin that wants to destroy your soul. It’s the way of radical amputation, of eliminating provision, of taking extreme measures.
It’s also the way of the Spirit. The way of God’s power. The way of hope.
Because Christ has already won the war. Your victory is already secured in His death and resurrection. You’re not fighting for victory. You’re fighting from victory. And in that fight, the promise stands:
“You will live.” (Romans 8:13, ESV)
Not eventually. Now. Today. As you mortify sin by the power of the Spirit.
So stop struggling. Start fighting.
The war is real. The enemy is relentless. The stakes are eternal.
But so is the power available to you.
It’s time to slaughter the provision you’ve been making for the flesh. It’s time to ask the hard questions and take the radical steps. It’s time to stop using the language of struggle as cover for surrender.
It’s time to go to war.
- What provisions are you currently making for the flesh?
- What would it mean for you to slaughter those ways?
I’d encourage you to spend time this week in honest inventory, perhaps with an accountability partner who is godlier than you, and ask the Spirit to show you what needs to be cut off, what needs to be confessed, and what needs to be killed.
Because your soul depends on it.
