People afflicted by intense inner pain often engage in self-harm. The exact form it takes varies from person to person. Just three of the many possibilities are cutting, hitting or starving oneself. People blessed by having never suffered such prolonged inner distress rarely understand why anyone would do this. Despite this, by pandering to the demands of their fallen nature, these people often themselves engage in forms of self-harm.

We saw this earlier with resentment, but it is also obvious with alcoholism, gluttony, gambling, lust, criminal behavior, and many other manifestations of the flesh. I will not waste time detailing all the ways such behaviors result in hurting oneself. Suffice to say that we all know, for example, how repeatedly seeking peace in a drink can lead to one or more types of self-harm, such as hangovers, liver damage, making a fool of oneself, ruining one’s reputation, destroying relationships, losing custody of one’s children, vehicle accidents, being arrested for drunk driving, losing one’s job, perhaps even becoming unemployable, suffering permanent brain damage, and so on.

It is equally true that people fighting God, or getting angry with him, hurt themselves immensely. If ever the expression biting the hand that feeds you applies, it is this. In fact, we are terrifyingly dependent upon God’s mercy for absolutely everything. We cannot even sin unless he lets us live.

When Paul had his life-changing Damascus experience, the risen Lord appeared in such glory that Paul was blinded – perhaps permanently, had he not been miraculously healed three days later (Acts 9:9, 12). During that shattering encounter, the Lord told Paul, “It is hard for you to kick against the goads (or ‘pricks’ as the KJV puts it, Acts 26:14). This expression refers to spikes used to train oxen not to kick when working. The more an ox kicked, the more it hurt itself.

No doubt, Paul had convinced himself he was nobly serving God by hurting Christians, but in reality it was a stubborn act of rebellion against God, in which he kept foolishly hurting himself. Kicking against the pricks/goads is, however, an apt picture for the billions of us who foolishly imagine we are making life easier on ourselves by caving into fleshly desires.

Lured by the fool’s gold of fame or fortune, preachers are tempted to present God as someone who pampers ‘respectable’ manifestations of the flesh. But do you really want to reject the real God in a search for a genie in a bottle?

As mentioned earlier, the first temptation was the outrageous lie that a human could become like God (Genesis 3:5). Ever since, our fallen nature has fallen for the lie that we are not only equal to God, but greater than him. There are three aspects to this that varying numbers of us fall for.

The lie that scams us more than any other is the belief that our love is greater than God’s. It’s not so much that we believe this in universal terms, but where it hits us the hardest: love for ourselves. Ever since humanity fell for the ludicrous temptation of being like God, we find ourselves falling for the temptation to believe we love ourselves more than God loves us, and that we want more passionately than he does what is in our best interests.

For us, this temptation seems not nearly as ridiculous as it should. We are so used to humans being selfish and egotistical and corrupt and power-hungry, that we can hardly even imagine someone being completely different. But God is not human. He is so different that Jesus had to say that God alone is good (Mark 10:18). The entire Gospel message is that God is so selfless and devoted to the well-being of even his enemies that he sacrificed everything for them (e.g. Romans 5:10). Moreover, in the words of Romans 8:32, “He who didn’t spare his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how would he not also with him freely give us all things?” Christianity’s highest conceivable morality to aim for is to be as selfless as God (e.g. John 13:34; 1 John 3:16) and as humble as his exalted Son (e.g. Mark 10:43-45; Philippians 2:5-8).

The next lie that entices many of us, though not as powerfully as the first, is that we are more intelligent than God. Again, few of us fall for this in every realm, but where it hits us most: when it comes to knowing what is in our best interest. No human knows us nearly as well as we know ourselves, and it is tempting to shove God into the same bin. Does God really understand us? Does he really know our likes and dislikes; our weaknesses and needs? In short, is he really all-knowing and infinitely intelligent, or are we better than him in knowing what is ultimately in our best interest?

Though weaker still, the final lie is that we are more powerful than God. He seems too slow. We are tempted to think we can better bring about what is in our best interests than him.

The God of the Bible has great hopes for his children. He wants us to excel in life by reigning over base desires. The alternative is to bring eternal shame to ourselves by being hopelessly addicted to cravings that both ruin us and harm those around us – even if we are too delirious with self-infatuation to realize the havoc we are creating.

Warring against the flesh might be as chaotic as a battlefield, but the result of putting the flesh to death is as peaceful as a cemetery, and as joyous as a victory celebration. Fighting the flesh does not mean beating ourselves up for having sinned. That would be as self-obsessed as anything else. We should accept divine forgiveness as freely and graciously as our Lord always offers it, and then return to focusing on God and his righteousness, rather than on ourselves and our slipups. Neither am I suggesting self-examination. That is not only likely to be deceptive (cf. 1 Corinthians 4:4), it is yet another way to become self-obsessed. Instead, we need to keep opening ourselves up to God, and to the possibility that he could have things we need to know that differ markedly from our expectations.

Hordes of us slump into taking a perverse delight in indulging ourselves with lavish doses of self-pity. Once ensnared, feeling sorry for ourselves begins to seem more satisfying than becoming a spiritual achiever by delighting in God and being a delight to him. If we, who were made to be life-giving rivers, turn in on ourselves, the inevitable result is to shrink into a stinking, stagnating pond. We can even confuse peace with an ever-growing torrent shriveling into a dying cesspool. Divine peace and self-adoration are poles apart.

We either live to give, or we choke on our own self-centeredness. Self-indulgence is a chameleon, blending so cunningly with admirable things, that it can be judged by humans as Christlike, exquisitely beautiful, or even heroic. According to the Judge, however, if ministry or martyrdom or giving the poor everything you own, flows from self-love, rather than selfless love – more an attempt to exalt oneself than one’s Lord – it could reduce one’s entire life to nothing (cf. 1 Corinthians 13:3).

We are often so self-obsessed as to think of our battles with the flesh as affecting only God and us. Cain’s experience, however, is one of innumerable examples that ram home how it affects everyone around us. Abel died as a direct result of Cain losing his inner battle with spiritual jealousy (Genesis 4:8). Of course, it is not always as obvious as murder, but whenever our flesh wins, others around us lose, either by being on the receiving end of foul moods and the like, or by missing out on encouragement, inspirations and other blessings we would have, sometimes unconsciously, showered upon them, had we crucified the flesh.

To try reducing the peace of Christ. to a piece of Christ, insults not only him, but our own intelligence. How could we possibly have Jesus’ peace and joy without having his heart? To attempt extracting his peace and joy from his heart would not only be like trying to rob him, it would be like trying to hack into pieces the most beautiful person in the universe. And it would be like trying to create some sort of Frankenstein out of the pieces. It would be a monstrous perversion to fabricate a kingdom that is merely peace and joy. The kingdom of God is “righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit (Romans 14:17, emphasis mine).

To have the peace and joy of Christ, we must have the nature of Christ. We must love as he loves; dying to self and living for God. By observing Jonah and Jeremiah earlier, we have already seen that we cannot have God-sized peace and joy, without God-sized love. Peace and joy belong with his love, moral perfection, and every other aspect of who he is.

If, as unattainable as it seems, to have peace and joy like Christ we must be like Christ, this is no cause for despair: it is precisely the passionate plan of the God who gets things done. The almighty Lord has this so much in hand that everything in the lives of those who love God aggregates into making them into the very image of Christ (Romans 8:28-29), who is himself the very image of God (Hebrews 1:3). We learned from James 1:2-3 and Romans 5:3-5 that the “everything” that achieves this, includes suffering and hard times, transforming us into his likeness in ever-increasing glory (2 Corinthians 3:18). All that is needed for the process to proceed is the little love and trust it takes for us to yield to our Re-creator, rather than fleeing in the opposite direction. Christlikeness keeps on growing the astonishing riches of the grace of the God who never stops giving. He lavishes it on us in measures infinitely beyond what anyone could ever deserve or imagine.

The cost of Christlikeness and the benefits of Christlikeness are as inseparable as the joys of parenthood are from the pains, stresses and effort of parenthood. In fact, just as it is the cost that defines a hero, the cost of Christlikeness is part of the glory. Just as the pain of the cross is part of Christ’s glory – forever flooding vast throngs with love and awe for him – so the cost of following him is our glory, causing us to be hailed as heroes for all eternity, and working in us an utterly incomparable eternal weight of glory (2 Corinthians 4:17).

An Unusual Way of Following Christ

As we begin to draw this series of webpages to a close, let’s remind ourselves that we have been probing the entire Bible for insights into Jesus’ peace, mindful that Paul experienced it to such an extent that he said it exceeds comprehension. So let’s look a little more at Paul.

“Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ,” he wrote under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 11:1, NIV). (Many versions translate it along the lines of “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ,” or “Copy me, as I copy Christ.”)

Let’s obey this divine directive by seeing how Paul lived in Christ’s peace, and then follow his example of following Christ. That might seem an obscure way of following Christ, but maybe looking at our Lord through the lens of Paul’s life could somehow help us see our Lord with greater clarity. So rather than rejecting God’s Word, let’s give it a go, and see if it actually helps.

We have mentioned some of the many distressing situations Paul faced. His response to them highlights a vital key to living in supernatural peace. I will chisel Paul’s approach into seven points. You will quickly see, however, that they are so closely related as to be almost identical. Each is a facet of the same diamond.

1. Seek the Lord for the ability to see every situation through God’s eyes, rather than your own

Depending on how well you already know God, when the revelation finally comes, the result could be staggeringly different from your presumptions. When Paul heard from God about his ‘thorn’ it changed his entire perspective. Instead of resenting it and praying against it, he – to use his term – gloried in it. That’s a spectacular shift from annoyance to peace.

To you, a situation might seem infuriating, catastrophic, or hopeless, but in there somewhere, the victorious, death-conquering Lord sees an opportunity for your spiritual growth, for you to be blessed and receive eternal glory, or for others to be blessed through you.

2. Look for things in the situation to thank and praise God, and rejoice in

In Paul’s words:

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 Always rejoice. Pray without ceasing. In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus toward you.

2 Corinthians 6:10 as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing . . .

Ephesians 5:20 giving thanks always concerning all things . . .

3. Keep looking for the positive in every situation

For an example, we will examine Paul’s response when imprisonment stymied his missionary activities. I don’t know if you can imagine Paul’s torment. This was the man whose passion for evangelism and church planting was so overwhelming that he relinquished the comfort of marriage and family (cf. 1 Corinthians 9:5) and repeatedly endured not just fearsome hate and ridicule, but excruciating physical torture to get it done. And now he finds himself languishing in prison, not merely losing his freedom and suffering the infuriating discomfort of chains, but prevented from doing what means more to him than life itself. Nevertheless, even in this predicament, Paul found so many positives that the quote is longish. It’s worth reading. So to make it a little more inviting, I’ve broken Philippians 1:12-19 (NIV) into bullet points:

Now I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel.

As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ.

Because of my chains, most of the brothers in the Lord have been encouraged to speak the word of God more courageously and fearlessly.

It is true that some preach Christ out of envy and rivalry

but others out of goodwill. The latter do so in love, knowing that I am put here for the defense of the gospel.

The former preach Christ out of selfish ambition . . . supposing that they can stir up trouble for me while I am in chains. But what does it matter?

The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice.

Yes, and I will continue to rejoice, for I know that through your prayers and the help given by the Spirit of Jesus Christ, what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance.

Among the many things I immensely admire about Paul is the way he endured four (not three) shipwrecks. Being horrifically persecuted by Christ-haters is one thing, but shipwrecks are different. Jesus calmed a storm. How easy it would be to get mad at God, or think one has missed his will when suffering ‘acts of God’ over and over whilst in the midst of full-blooded service to God. Paul retained Christ’s peace by refusing to think that way.

One of the prerequisites for a successful relationship with an infinitely superior being is the ability to tolerate mystery.

To have suffered so many shipwrecks is astonishing, but to have survived so many shipwrecks (without even lifejackets, radios, rescue helicopters, and the like) is staggering. Which should we focus on? Put yourself in Paul’s soaking wet clothes and aching, shivering body: would you grieve God over all the shipwrecks, or glorify him over all the survivals?

I so much detest talking about myself that I’ve teetered on removing all reference to myself. Nevertheless, the reference remains for the moment, because although I find it hard to be objective about its impact, I think it might sharpen a couple of points for you. Throughout the months that I’ve been battling to write this series of webpages, both my wife and I have been seriously incapacitated, in both body and mind.

My own health has been so inexplicably pulverized that I think the most accurate way to convey it is to ask you to imagine trying to function mentally and physically after having not slept for a month. For a better understanding, add other weird attacks, including bewilderment over why you are this way, and over what the implications might be for your future.

Can you conceive how frustrating and disconcerting it is to have a mind and body that, for much of the time, seem to refuse to function, and for the remainder operate at a mere fraction of the ease and efficiency of someone more normal? My frequent inability to put words together, or think straight, or remember, has at times left me thinking I could have Alzheimer’s, and occasionally even fearing for my sanity.

No one else has ever been forced to think with my muddled mind, to know how elusive words and thoughts are for me – and if finally caught, how quickly they escape again. So how can anyone grasp how uncooperative my mind and body have been over the last many months? With only Vicki seeing me frequently taking hours to construct just three sentences, most people reading the finished, fairly lucid, webpage would find it impossible to believe how impaired and enfeebled I have been. I’ve had times approaching this degree of disability in the past, but now it seems to have plunged to new depths.

While struggling to write, and tormented by an insanely intense (fleshly?) yearning to be used of God to draw literally millions closer to him, I’ve been taunted by the thought that almost no one will read this. Nevertheless, I’ve felt compelled to persist. Writing might be torturous, and touching few lives might grieve me, but not writing leaves me feeling even more useless.

On top of this, Vicki suffered a brain injury a year ago that has kept her virtually housebound, often in physical agony, frequently suffering nausea and all sorts of bizarre symptoms, including Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). She has been so unwell that after a full year of being unable to work, it is a sign of huge progress that, under medical direction, she will soon begin to try to return to her former workplace – for only 45 minutes, one day a week, on super-light duties. As is typical of my amazing wife, she has responded to her plight with a never-say-die attitude, and such courage and selflessness as to be truly inspirational. Nonetheless, to live 24 hours a day with a loved one who is suffering is harrowing.

It would take too long and be too boring to describe all our sources of distress. Let’s skip that, however, and get to the nagging question: how should we respond? Should I grieve over all that I cannot do each day, and torment myself over the stupidity of all my errors and lapses, or will I resolve to rejoice in what I can do, even though, to my mind, it seems pathetically little?

What I long for you to see is that, for us and everyone else, things could always be worse. Your trial is unique, but the burning issue remains: how will you respond? Will you choose a whining attitude, or a winning attitude; one that delights God, or one he detests? Whatever floats your boat? For at least four distressing times, nothing floated Paul’s boat, but he continued to delight in God and be a delight to God, anyhow.

Remain mindful that what empowered the apostle to remain positive, was not mindless optimism, but his confidence in God’s love, power and goodness.

4. Trust God that there is value and meaning in every situation that hits you

Even before God’s work is completed, we are seeing immense good flowing from Vicki’s injury – so much so that she already sees it as worth the agony, as a beaming mother sees her beautiful baby as worth all the labor pains. It would take too long to explain it all, but a significant factor is that being unable to work has forced Vicki to take the time she desperately needed to heal from crippling inner wounds she has carried most of her life. It has also drawn her so much closer to God, and initiated life-changing spiritual breakthroughs, some of which spurred me to write this series of webpages. She feared her incapacity would affect our marriage. It did indeed affect our marriage: it has made a great marriage even better. (If you want a marriage as wonderful as mine, you might try following my example, and remain a virgin until your mid-fifties, absorbing all the spiritual benefits of the unspeakable anguish, until the all-knowing Lord finally affirms it’s the perfect time to marry.)

In contrast with Vicki, the good in my current affliction is hard to see at present. Ironically, that itself is good. What makes it good is that faith is about learning to navigate in the dark. If I can see, how can I get any practice in further developing my faith? Things seeming senseless – being unable to see, or even imagine, how any good could come from a situation –is the perfect opportunity to grow in faith – which, by the way, is more precious than gold. (When stacked against faith, not even gold lasts for long, affirms 1 Peter 1:7.) Unlike God, we lack the powers of intellect to know the full implications of changed circumstances, but if writing these webpages were not physically and mentally so agonizingly difficult, perhaps I would have rushed through it, and the result would have been inferior.

It is as though our Lord is the greatest of artists, and no matter how much his enemies try to ruin what he is creating, he keeps tirelessly working on every act of vandalism until he has transformed the malicious damage into something that actually increases the beauty of the finished masterpiece.

Everyone who yields to the Artist immediately becomes an exquisite work of art he is meticulously fashioning. He treasures us so much that he ensures that every attempt to desecrate us backfires. In fact, he lovingly pours so much effort and genius into the part of us ravaged by the attack that his painstaking work on the damaged area renders his already priceless masterpiece even more valuable. The Artist is timeless and renowned for his patience and attention to detail. So don’t expect this process to be quick by human standards. It will be so thorough, however, that when what he has been doing in secret is finally unveiled, everyone will gasp in awe.

For two famous statements by Paul affirming this, see Proof.

5. Confront inner blockages to peace

I’ll keep this short because few people would have read so much about peace unless they really wanted it. It is possible, nonetheless, to miss out on peace due to fearing it, or at least being reluctant to embrace it. For some people, this reticence could be barely conscious. What alerted me to this was the realization that Paul accepted peace and contentment when I would have pushed it away.

Whether powered by pure love for God, or by fear (anxiety), or even by selfish ambition, some people are so driven to give God their absolute best, that they resist inner peace due to thinking it might lead to them becoming spiritually lazy. Since only very recently discovering that this applies to me, I have prioritized seeking to understand and resolve this in my own life. I expect the result will be life-changing. If this is something you would like to investigate, or simply better understand my quandary, see Grappling with my Reluctance to Embrace Peace.

6. Love as God loves

To love like Christ is the loftiest goal anyone can ever have. Like the horizon, it will always be beyond us. Nonetheless, in spiritual union with him, resolutely combining our concerted efforts with his supernatural power, we can move thrillingly far from our inferior ways as we progress toward that stupendous prize.

We have spoken much about the relationship between peace and love, and how Paul had it in abundance. Here’s an example, not previously mentioned:

Philippians 1:22-26 But if I live on in the flesh, this will bring fruit from my work; yet I don’t know what I will choose. But I am hard pressed between the two, having the desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better. Yet to remain in the flesh is more needful for your sake. Having this confidence, I know that I will remain, yes, and remain with you all for your progress and joy in the faith, that your rejoicing may abound in Christ Jesus in me through my presence with you again.

7. Don’t beat yourself up

When things get oppressive, we almost instinctively want to blame someone. Whether we blame God, other people or ourselves, however, any attempt to assign blame drags us down. God’s solution for all blame is the cross of Christ. The innocent Son of God took every trance of blame upon himself, and fully exhausted in his own being the horrific consequences.

We’ve already mentioned how blaming someone else ruins our peace, but perhaps your peace is in tatters because you have taken the blame upon yourself; believing that you are the one who has messed up. If so, accept God’s forgiveness through Christ, and then refuse to insult God’s holiness by imagining you have higher standards than God. If he forgives you, then for Christ’s sake (I mean that sincerely) be godly – act like God – by forgiving yourself.

Let me illustrate both this and the importance of praise by citing from something I’ve written elsewhere:

Paul’s patience was at breaking point. Day after day, wherever they went, the demonized slave-girl kept shrieking that Paul and Silas were God’s servants. Then, in a moment of desperation, he did it. He expelled the demon. And his greatest fears froze to excruciating reality (Acts 16:16-24).

They were arrested, tortured and thrown in prison. Incarcerated like common criminals? No such luck. It was the maximum security block for them. Everything pointed to a painfully long stay.

Put ourselves in Paul’s stocks, and our thoughts might be something like: ‘What an ant-brain! I walked right into Satan’s trap! Things were going so well – converts were being baptized, Lydia had opened her house to us – and like a twit I blew it! Now I’ve been flogged. Poor Silas is in agony. Both of us are in the slammer, no longer free to preach the Gospel. All because of me! If only I’d kept my cool . . .’

I’d have been as miserable as an elephant with sinusitis.

Yet instead of berating himself or being bullied by pain, the apostle sang praises. Almost instantly, tragedy yielded potent ministry. Not only was the Lord blessed and fellow prisoners touched, the jailer and all his family were converted. Praise turned misery into ministry.

Praise snaps locks.

If you think praise is hot air, you are right. It’s the hot air that makes faith balloon, lifting us to new heights in God, while warming the Father’s heart.

Final Thoughts

Any day, David could have sung, “Surely goodness and mercy [loving kindness] shall follow me all the days of my life,” (Psalm 23:6, KJV). It was true, whether he was fleeing as Israel’s most hunted fugitive, or his own son had instigated civil war to rip the kingdom from him and rape his wives (2 Samuel 16:22). It applied whether he was mourning the incestuous rape of his daughter (2 Samuel 13:1, 11-12, 14-15), or the death of his baby (2 Samuel 12:14), or the death of his older son, Amnon – murdered by another of David’s sons (2 Samuel 13:28) – or, still later, the death of his son Absalom (2 Samuel 18:14, 33).

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,” was likewise true of Joseph when sold into slavery by his own brothers, then left to rot in prison as a vile sex offender on hideously trumped up charges.

It was true of Job, after being stripped of all his possessions and all his children slaughtered, then afflicted with a tortuous disease, his wife telling him to curse God and die, his reputation shredded, and his best friends falsely accusing him of sin.

It applied when Jeremiah was lamenting ever being born (Jeremiah 20:14-18), and when Jesus was gasping, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” while being tortured to death.

It was true of Paul, even when going hungry and clothed in rags (Surprising Scriptures), or being shipwrecked, or maliciously slandered, or sadistically flogged, or thrown in prison yet again.

And it is a glorious truth for you to bask in, too, every day of your life.

When we can get our head around this, the peace that passes understanding will be close by. For as long as our understanding, however, is more the product of the non-Christian world around us than of humbly seeking the heart of God, we will think peace is related to material prosperity, or gooey feelings, or favorable circumstances. Then all we will have is the peace everyone understands – the peace that passes us by, the moment we most need it.

It is so easy to decimate our peace by being mad at God for supposedly letting us down, when we have actually let him down. This is inevitable, when we fail to rest in the certainty that God is working behind the scenes on plans for us more wonderful, though more mysterious, than we can conceive.

Too often we make things so much harder on ourselves by kicking against the goads. Our Lord longs to lead us away from grave danger ahead that we cannot even see. There are a million ways we can end up slanderously accusing God of cruelty or incompetence when we see only a handful of the myriad pieces of the puzzle. We rebel, stubbornly thinking we want what we would never want, if only we understood the full implications. Nevertheless, God loves delighting us with mind-blowing surprises and happy endings. Will you sabotage them, or will you snuggle into the assurance that the good Lord’s plans for you are perfect and could never be improved?

Appalling numbers of us are so far from having died to self that our ravenous egos need feeding more often than junkies need a fix to avoid serious withdrawal symptoms. Few of us can even conceive of the freedom that death to self brings.

Ego, self-centeredness, willfulness, the flesh, our unregenerate or adamic nature – or whatever you chose to call it – is at war with God, who is the sole source of boundless, never-ending life. It is spiritual cancer that either we keep killing, or it will kill us. Jesus alone has the on-going treatment we need, but it is our choice whether we keep letting him treat it. The fact that it needs continual treatment is proved by God, in his Word, continually raising the matter with people who were already Christians.

With far too few exceptions, each of us has been hoodwinked into thinking our ego is our friend and greatest asset, and truly worthy of our diligent protection, comfort, nurture and encouragement, when it is actually the enemy within. It is not only God’s enemy; it is our enemy. It is our greatest source of torment, while maliciously pretending to have our best interests at heart. (Incidentally, only God has the utter selflessness, omnipotence and mega-intelligence to truly keep our best interests in mind.)

Our fallen inner self claims to understand us like no one else can. It claims to feel sorry for us and to console us and soothe our heart like no one else. In reality, it is a disgusting parasite, sucking everything good out of us. It has infected us for so long that we actually think it is the real ‘us’ when, for all whom Christ has freed, it is nothing but a foreign entity surreptitiously stealing not just our peace and joy, but something infinitely more valuable and important – Christlikeness.

Put another way, this ego – which has lost its right to be called yours – is a former tenant who used to make your life unbearable. It should have been evicted, now that, because of Christ, you are under new management. Instead, this lowlife is trying to dupe you into letting it stay on and harass you, and pollute what Christ has made pristine and exquisitely beautiful. Will you let it?