Who Will Rescue Me?

Woman holding floating musical notes on a sunlit forest path

“Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

— Romans 7:15–25 (NRSV)

There comes a moment when trying harder just isn’t enough.

Maybe you know that moment.

You’ve tried to change.

You’ve made promises to yourself. You’ve started again. You’ve prayed, “Lord, this time will be different.”

And then, somehow, you find yourself right back in the same place.

Not necessarily with one big, obvious struggle.

Sometimes it’s a whole collection of things.

The things you told yourself you would stop doing.

The things you thought you had outgrown.

The things you keep bringing to God in prayer.

Lord, help me with this.

Lord, I don’t want to keep doing that.

Lord, help me be more consistent.

Lord, I know better.

Maybe it’s skipping church because you don’t feel like going.

Maybe it’s one of those “little white lies” that doesn’t seem important enough to call a real lie.

Maybe it’s gossiping about someone and then realizing afterward, I really shouldn’t have said that.

Maybe it’s an attitude.

A reaction.

A habit.

A lack of patience.

A place where you keep choosing yourself when you know God is asking you to choose differently.

And sometimes it’s not even that we don’t care.

We do care.

That’s what makes it so frustrating.

We want to do what is right.

We want our lives to reflect our love for God.

We pray about it. We make a commitment. We do better for a while.

And then we find ourselves doing it again.

If you’ve ever been there, you’re not alone.

Paul gives words to that tension in Romans 7.

He says, essentially, I know what I want to do, but I don’t always do it. I know what I don’t want to do, and somehow I keep finding myself doing that.

Whew.

If we’re honest, many of us know exactly what he means.

There is a part of us that genuinely delights in God. We want to follow Him. We want to grow. We want to become more like Christ.

And yet, we still struggle.

Not just with one thing.

With many things.

And eventually, Paul reaches the end of his own ability to resolve the tension and cries out:

“Who will rescue me?”

Not What will rescue me?

Not What else do I need to try?

Not Why can’t I get myself together?

Who will rescue me?

And then comes his answer:

“Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

That’s the turn.

Maybe the answer isn’t trying harder.

Now, before we go any further, let me say something carefully.

This isn’t an excuse to shrug our shoulders and say, “Well, that’s just how I am.”

No.

We are called to grow.

We’re called to repent. We’re called to become more like Christ. We’re called to pay attention to the ways our choices affect God, ourselves, and the people around us.

But there is a difference between pursuing transformation and trying to transform ourselves.

And I think that’s where we can get ourselves into trouble.

We make another plan.

We promise ourselves we’ll do better.

We become more disciplined.

We tell ourselves, “This time I’m really going to get it together.”

And discipline has its place.

But eventually, there are moments when our own effort exposes a deeper truth:

We were never meant to rescue ourselves.

I know I’ve had to recognize this in my own life.

There have been things I’ve prayed about more than once.

Things I thought, Surely I should have gotten past this by now.

And sometimes I have been more frustrated with myself than I have been honest with God.

But Romans 7 reminds me that the answer isn’t to hide the struggle or pretend I’m further along than I am.

The answer is to bring the struggle to Christ.

Again.

And again.

And again.

What if your struggle is showing you where you need Jesus?

This is where I want to encourage you, sister.

Don’t let your frustration with yourself turn into distance from God.

Don’t let “I should know better” become “I don’t want to come to God until I do better.”

That’s backwards.

We come to Jesus because we need Jesus.

Maybe you’ve been looking at all the places where you still need to grow and thinking, What is wrong with me?

Maybe a better question is:

Jesus, what are You inviting me to surrender here?

Because there’s a difference between beating yourself up over your shortcomings and allowing the Holy Spirit to lovingly reveal what needs to change.

One pushes us toward shame.

The other draws us toward transformation.

And transformation takes time.

Sometimes we want sanctification to look like checking things off a list:

I don’t do that anymore.

I fixed that.

I’ve finally gotten over that.

But maybe becoming more like Christ is less like completing a checklist and more like learning, over and over again, to recognize our need for Him.

We keep coming.

We keep confessing.

We keep receiving grace.

We keep getting back up.

We keep walking.

Not because our struggle doesn’t matter.

It does.

But because Jesus matters more.

Come to Jesus.

So if you’re sitting with your own list right now—the things you’ve promised God you would change, the things you’ve prayed about, the things you wish weren’t still part of your story—I want you to know something…

You are not disqualified because you are still growing.

Your need for grace is not evidence that your faith is fake.

And needing Jesus again does not mean you failed yesterday.

It means you are still learning what it means to depend on Him.

So come to Jesus.

Bring the gossip.

Bring the dishonesty.

Bring the inconsistency.

Bring the attitude.

Bring the compromise.

Bring the things you don’t even know how to change yet.

Bring all of it.

And then ask a different question.

Not simply,

“How can I finally stop doing this?”

But:

“Jesus, what does following You look like from here?”

That’s a question we can keep walking with.

Because the goal isn’t perfection we can accomplish on our own.

The goal is a life increasingly surrendered to Christ.

And sister, that is a journey.

There will be days when you get it right.

There will be days when you don’t.

There will be moments when you look back and realize, God really has changed me.

And there will be other moments when you realize there is still work to do.

That’s okay.

Keep walking.

Keep surrendering.

Keep coming back.

Paul’s cry, “Who will rescue me?” doesn’t end in despair.

It ends in gratitude:

“Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

So maybe today, instead of promising God that you’ll try harder, simply come honestly.

Jesus, here I am.

I need You.

Help me walk with You here.

And then take the next step.

Not alone.

Not by your own strength.

With Jesus.


Rooted Truth

I don’t have to rescue myself; Jesus is my Savior, and I can trust Him with what I cannot fix.


Rooted Response

Take a few moments to get quiet.

Breathe.

Let go of the need to fix, control, or solve everything in this moment.

Bring to mind the place where you’ve been trying hardest to manage things on your own.

Now, simply bring it to Jesus.

You don’t have to figure out what happens next.

Just sit with Him.

If You Want to Go a Little Deeper…

Download the accompanying Scripture + Journal Guide to spend more time with Romans 7 and reflect on what it means to live each day dependent upon the grace of Jesus.

And if you are still wondering what God might be doing in the middle of your struggle, you may want to sit with The Presence of the Struggle Is Not the Absence of Grace.


Breath Prayer

Inhale: Jesus, You are my rescue.
Exhale: I surrender to You.

A breath prayer is a simple way to slow down and become aware of God’s presence. By pairing a short prayer with your natural breathing, you can quiet your thoughts and gently turn your attention back to God.

How to practice

Find a comfortable, quiet place. Take a slow, natural breath in as you pray the first part of the prayer. Then slowly breathe out as you pray the second part.

There’s no need to force your breathing or get the words exactly right. Simply breathe, pray, and linger with God. Repeat the prayer several times, allowing each breath to become an invitation to rest and receive.


A Prayer to Close

Jesus,

I confess that I often try to fix what only You can hold.

I try to control what I cannot control and carry what I was never meant to carry.

Forgive me.

Thank You for being my Savior and for meeting me in the places where I am weak.

Teach me to trust You more deeply.

When I struggle, draw me closer.

When I fall, remind me of Your grace.

When I am tempted to rely on myself, turn my heart back toward You.

You are my hope.

You are enough.

Amen.

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