On Second Thought
“I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.” — Galatians 2:20
An anxious spirit often begins with a hidden assumption: everything depends on me. I may not say those words aloud, but I live as though I must hold every relationship together, anticipate every problem, prevent every disappointment, and manage every outcome. When life does not cooperate, fear rises quickly. Anxiety then becomes more than concern about circumstances; it becomes the emotional weight of trying to occupy a place that belongs only to God.
There is a form of responsibility that is faithful and necessary. Scripture does not call us to carelessness, passivity, or indifference. Yet there is also a kind of striving that quietly turns responsibility into control. I begin believing that if I work hard enough, think carefully enough, pray correctly enough, and perform consistently enough, I can secure the outcome I desire. When that outcome does not come, I interpret it as personal failure. Performance-based acceptance then creeps into my relationship with God, and I begin acting as though His love rises and falls with my success.
Galatians 2:20 confronts that anxious way of living with a radically different identity. Paul does not merely say that Christ helps him live better. He says, “Christ lives in me.” The Christian life is not simply my old life improved by religious effort. It is a new life created through union with Jesus Christ. The Greek verb translated “I have been crucified with” is systauroō, describing participation with another in crucifixion. Paul’s old identity as a self-righteous performer had been brought to the cross. His standing with God no longer depended upon his ability to prove himself worthy.
Romans 6:1–8 develops this same truth. Paul teaches that those who belong to Christ have been united with Him in His death and resurrection. “Our old man was crucified with Him, that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves of sin.” The “old man” is the person I was in Adam, governed by sin and separated from God. Through Christ, that former identity has lost its ruling claim. I still live in a mortal body, face temptation, experience weakness, and encounter anxiety, but these things no longer possess final authority over me.
This does not mean that spiritual maturity appears overnight. Anabel Gillham honestly acknowledged that when she received the truth of Galatians 2:20 by faith, her circumstances and habits did not change instantly. What changed was the source from which she began to live. She became more conscious of her thoughts and choices and began trusting Christ as her strength, wisdom, and life. That is a helpful correction to the expectation that surrender should immediately remove every struggle.
Growth usually happens through repeated dependence. I recognize an anxious thought and bring it to Christ. I notice my desire to control another person and release that person to the Lord. I feel the pressure to perform and remind myself that I am already accepted in the Beloved. I face a difficult decision and ask the Holy Spirit for wisdom rather than assuming that I must create certainty before taking the next step. Over time, these acts of trust reshape the habits of the heart.
Paul says that the life he now lives “in the flesh” he lives “by faith in the Son of God.” Faith is not denial of reality. It is confidence that Christ is present and sufficient within reality. Faith does not say that the situation is easy; it says that I am not facing it alone. Faith does not promise that I will control the outcome; it assures me that God will remain faithful regardless of the outcome.
The most healing phrase in Galatians 2:20 may be the final one: Christ “loved me and gave Himself for me.” Paul makes the gospel personal without making it private. The Son of God did not merely love humanity in an abstract sense. He loved Paul, and Paul knew himself to be personally included in Christ’s self-giving sacrifice. Anxiety often asks, “What if I am not enough?” The gospel answers, “Christ is enough, and He has given Himself for you.”
That truth changes the way I approach today. I am not required to manufacture strength I do not possess. I am invited to depend upon the One who lives within me. My task is not to force Christ to assist my plans, but to surrender my plans to His life. I still make decisions, complete responsibilities, confess failures, and practice obedience. Yet I do these things from acceptance rather than for acceptance.
On Second Thought
We often imagine that confidence comes from gaining greater control, but the gospel teaches the opposite. The strongest Christian is not necessarily the person who has mastered every circumstance, eliminated every weakness, or formed a perfect plan. Spiritual confidence grows when I admit that I cannot live the Christian life by my own power and trust Christ to express His life through me. That sounds like weakness, yet it is the beginning of genuine strength.
The paradox is that the crucified life is the truly liberated life. When Paul says, “It is no longer I who live,” he is not describing the loss of personality, responsibility, or meaningful action. He is describing freedom from the exhausting demand to be his own savior. The self that must always prove, control, impress, and secure itself has been brought to the cross. In its place emerges a life rooted in Christ’s love, animated by Christ’s presence, and sustained by faith.
On second thought, perhaps anxiety is not always telling me that my circumstances are too large. Sometimes it is revealing that my view of myself has become too large. I have assumed a responsibility God never assigned to me—the responsibility of guaranteeing results. Christ calls me to obedience, but He retains sovereignty. He asks me to trust, but He does not ask me to predict every turn. He invites me to act faithfully, but He remains responsible for the final outcome.
The way forward is therefore neither frantic effort nor passive resignation. It is active dependence. I can pray, plan, work, and serve without treating myself as the center upon which everything rests. I can say, “Lord, I cannot carry tomorrow, but I can trust You today.” I can release what I cannot control while remaining faithful in what God has placed before me. The life of faith does not remove all tension, but it gives that tension a new foundation: Christ lives in me, Christ loves me, and Christ will supply what He commands.
FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE OR POST SO OTHERS MAY KNOW