Crucifying the Flesh: Living by the Spirit’s Power

 

 

I remember hearing about a man who took pride in having a perfectly manicured lawn. He would mow every three days, edge the borders with precision, and pick out weeds the moment they appeared. He even timed his watering so that each blade of grass looked identical in color and height. Neighbors would walk by and marvel at his dedication.

 

But then, one summer, a strange fungus crept in—quietly, invisibly at first. By the time he noticed, the roots beneath the surface were already rotting. No amount of mowing or trimming could save the grass. On the outside, it had looked flawless; on the inside, it was dying.

 

That’s a picture of what life looks like when we try to appear “holy” on the outside without being transformed on the inside. We can keep rules, follow traditions, and impress people—but if the heart remains unchanged, the fruit of the Spirit will not grow. The Bible says in Galatians 5:24:

 

 

This is the heart of the matter. We are called to live above the law—not by abolishing it, but by fulfilling it through the Spirit’s power. The question is: How does that capability become real and visible in us?

 

Let’s walk through this together.

 

 

In the time of Jesus, all Jews lived under the Law of Moses—literally. The Ten Commandments were central, but so were hundreds of other regulations given through Moses. They knew them by heart. They recited them in the synagogue. They taught them to their children. And many did their best to keep every command.

 

Some could even boast about their record, like the Pharisee in Luke 18:11–12:

 

 

At first, his words sound like gratitude to God. But listen closely—it’s not thanksgiving; it’s comparison. There is no humility, no confession of weakness, no love for God or compassion for others. Instead, there is pride. The law had become a scoreboard, a way to measure spiritual “success” against other people instead of measuring the heart against God’s holiness.

 

We humans love scoreboards. We want to know who’s “better” and where we rank. It makes us feel secure—or superior. But God never gave the Law to hand out gold medals for holiness. Paul says in Romans 3:20:

 

 

The Law functions like a mirror—it shows us the dirt on our face, but it can’t wash it off. It exposes what is wrong, but it cannot make us right. It can’t give life. It can’t create love. And it certainly cannot produce the fruit of the Spirit.

 

In time, Jewish leaders added “the tradition of the elders”—extra rules designed to help people keep God’s Law. But these traditions slowly became a wall separating “holy” people from “unholy” people. They believed holiness meant being set apart by visible works—avoiding Gentiles, keeping dietary laws, and strictly observing Sabbath regulations.

 

Holiness is “set apart,” as God says in 1 Peter 1:16:

 

 

But this is not separation for pride’s sake—it’s a calling to reflect God’s character. Holiness is not simply the absence of sin; it is the presence of God’s love, mercy, and truth.

 

When holiness becomes a performance, it turns into a checklist. And checklists can measure rules, but they cannot measure love. Can we create a list to measure genuine patience, deep joy, or unshakable kindness? No. These qualities cannot be faked for long and cannot be manufactured by human will. They only grow when God’s Spirit is alive within us.

 

The Law reveals something sobering: the flesh is full of passions and desires that, left unchecked, lead to pride, jealousy, division, and even violence. From the very beginning, in Genesis 4, jealousy led Cain to murder his own brother Abel because Abel’s offering pleased God more than his.

 

This is what the Law exposes—a heart problem. And while it can diagnose the disease, it cannot provide the cure. That is why we need something far greater than the Law. We need the transforming work of the Holy Spirit, who alone can change the heart from the inside out.

 

 

Paul doesn’t mince words in Galatians 5:24:

 

 

That’s not casual advice—it’s a declaration of necessity. Crucifixion is not a polite correction. It’s not a gentle nudge toward improvement. It is a complete execution. In the Roman world, crucifixion was brutal, final, and inescapable. Paul deliberately uses this image because the flesh—our sinful nature with all its passions and desires—cannot be rehabilitated. It must be put to death.

 

Why such drastic language? Because our sinful desires don’t just make us “less holy”—they actively resist the Spirit’s work. In Galatians 5:17, Paul writes:

 

 

This is an ongoing battle inside every believer. Trying to live in the Spirit without crucifying the flesh is like trying to sail with two anchors still dropped. You might feel the wind, but you will not move forward.

 

Now, crucifying the flesh doesn’t mean harsh self-punishment or living under legalistic rules. Paul clarifies in Colossians 2:23 that man-made rules “lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence.” True crucifixion of the flesh is about daily surrender to Christ. Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15:31, “I die every day.” It’s not a one-time event at conversion—it’s a daily, even moment-by-moment, decision to say “no” to self desires and passions, and “yes” to God.

 

Here’s the challenging part: even good things can become fleshly if they feed our pride or separate us from others. The Jewish passion for holiness began as a God-given desire, but over time, it turned into self-exaltation and prejudice against Gentiles. What began as obedience to God became an occasion for pride, which is itself a work of the flesh.

 

Likewise, our own desires to “serve God” can be twisted if they are ultimately about recognition, comfort, or control. This is why Paul warns in Philippians 2:3–4:

 

 

Crucifying the flesh means putting to death not only obvious sins—sexual immorality, greed, dishonesty—but also subtle motives: jealousy, self-glorification, resentment, and the hunger to be first. It’s the choice to lay down our rights, our reputation, and our preferences at the foot of the cross.

 

And here is the hope: when the flesh dies, the Spirit lives. When we let go of what we want, God produces in us what He wants. As Paul says in Galatians 2:20:

 

 

This is the only way forward. Death to self is not loss—it is the doorway to real life, where the Spirit has the freedom to grow His fruit in us and through us.

 

 

Once the flesh is crucified, the Spirit can work freely. And when He does, the result is the fruit of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22–23). Paul concludes this list with a remarkable statement:

 

 

Why would he say that? Because a life overflowing with this kind of fruit needs no law to restrain it. The Law exists to hold back sin and wrongdoing, but when the Holy Spirit governs the heart, there is nothing to restrain—only blessings to release. The Spirit-led life is not about avoiding evil but about producing good in abundance.

 

Think about it:

 

Love can’t be legislated. No human law can compel you to love genuinely from the heart. Only the Spirit can pour out God’s love within you (Romans 5:5).

Joy can’t be regulated. Rules can’t manufacture it, and fake joy crumbles under pressure. True joy flows from knowing God’s presence and promises (Psalm 16:11).

Peace can’t be enforced. You can sign peace treaties, but real peace—peace that lasts through storms—comes from the Spirit’s work in the soul (Philippians 4:7).

 

This is the essence of living by the Spirit—it’s not about doing more, but abiding more. Jesus gave the perfect picture in John 15:5:

 

 

Fruit-bearing is the natural result of connection to the Vine. The branch doesn’t strain to produce grapes; it simply draws life from the vine. Likewise, when we remain in Christ—through prayer, His Word, and obedience—the Spirit naturally produces His fruit in us.

 

This is why the Gospel is such good news. Jesus didn’t just die to forgive us; He rose again to fill us with His Spirit. His Spirit gives us the ability to live above the Law—not in rebellion to it, but in perfect alignment with its true purpose. When asked the greatest commandment, Jesus replied in Matthew 22:37–40:

 

 

That’s exactly what the fruit of the Spirit does—it fulfills the Law through love. Romans 13:10 says, “Love does no harm to a neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law.”

 

When we live this way, we no longer compare ourselves to others, seek approval through performance, or act out of jealousy or fear. Instead, we reflect God’s grace in our words, our actions, and our relationships. Our lives become living testimonies of the Gospel—a visible glimpse of heaven for the world to see.

 

And that is the Spirit’s goal—not just to make us “better people,” but to make us living witnesses of Christ’s love and power.

 

 

Imagine driving without fear—not because speed limits don’t exist, but because your heart already delights in driving safely and wisely. You don’t slow down only when you see a police car; instead, you naturally live in a way that the law has nothing to accuse you of. That is what life in the Spirit looks like—freedom from fear because your desires are aligned with what is right.

 

The Law was never the final destination. It was a signpost, pointing toward the true goal: love. As Romans 13:10 says, “Love does no harm to a neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law.” And love in its purest form—selfless, sacrificial, unconditional—can only come when the Holy Spirit fills our hearts. Without Him, even our best religious efforts risk becoming self-centered, prideful, or comparative. With Him, even the smallest acts—a kind word, a patient response, a forgiving heart—become holy expressions of God’s love.

 

Yes, we will stumble. Yes, we will forget. But the Good News is that Jesus has already paid the penalty for our failures. *Romans 8:1* reminds us: “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” The cross is our foundation, and the Spirit is our daily helper. Each day, we choose to crucify the flesh—to surrender selfish passions and desires. Each day, we rise again in His strength, walking step by step in obedience and dependence.

 

And as we walk, the fruit of the Spirit grows—not because we keep a checklist, but because His life flows through us. This is the life God invites us into—not beneath the heavy burden of the Law, but above it, in the joy and freedom of His grace, where love fulfills every command.

 

Let’s pray together.

 

Heavenly Father,

 

We thank You for the truth of Your Word and for the life You’ve given us in Jesus Christ. We confess that too often we’ve tried to please You by our own strength, comparing ourselves to others rather than surrendering to You. Forgive us, Lord.

 

Teach us to crucify the flesh with its passions and desires. Fill us with Your Spirit so that love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control may overflow from our lives. Let these not be just words we know, but realities we live.

 

Lord, make us people who walk above the Law—not in pride, but in the freedom of Your grace. And when we fail, remind us of the cross, where our penalty was paid, and of Your Spirit, who lifts us to walk again.

 

We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, our Savior and King.

 

Amen.