Many believers have been taught to let Christ live through them. They have tried to get out of the way, to surrender, to yield. Yet often this leads to frustration rather than freedom. Galatians 2:20 declares, “I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.” For many, this sounds like a spiritual formula that is difficult to grasp. What does it truly mean? How does it actually work?
This is not about achieving a state of passive emptiness or striving to empty oneself. It is about believing a foundational fact so essential that Paul insists no one can know true rest or deliverance from sin’s dominion without it. The Christian life does not begin with human effort; it begins with death. “For I through the law am dead to the law, that I might live unto God” (Galatians 2:19, KJV). The law, that strict taskmaster, demanded a life no one could produce. It exhausted the flesh, condemned it, and its ultimate purpose was to bring a person to the end of themselves—to death. God is done with the flesh. He is not asking it to try harder.
The Fact Before the Feeling
The believer’s crucifixion with Christ is not a spiritual experience to be summoned but a divine transaction to be believed. “Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin” (Romans 6:6, KJV). Knowing this is the bedrock of the Christian life. Just as faith is required to believe that Christ died for our sins, faith is required to believe that we died with Him. The connection to the law, that old demanding husband, was severed by death. “The law hath dominion over a man as long as he liveth” (Romans 7:1, KJV). But the believer has died. Therefore, freedom is theirs.
This truth often causes religious systems to stumble because it sounds lawless, as if it permits “doing anything you want.” Yet this misunderstands the purpose of the death: “I through the law am dead to the law, that I might live unto God.” The death is not for license but for life. It clears away the old “I” so that a new “I” might live—and that new “I” is Christ Himself. “Nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.” Christ is not a helper for the old life; He is the life itself.
How Does This Life Flow?
How is this life experienced? Not by focusing on having Christ live in you, for that can become a new law, a new performance. The mechanism is surprisingly simple: “The life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:20, KJV).
The focus is not on the crucifixion but on the Crucified and Risen One who loved the believer. The supply of the Spirit—Christ living His life in the believer—comes “by the hearing of faith” (Galatians 3:2, 5). The believer preaches the gospel to themselves, dwelling on the Person and work of the Son of God. They remind their soul: He loved me. He gave Himself for me. He is my righteousness, my sanctification, my redemption. As the heart and mind are occupied with Him, a spontaneous transformation occurs. The believer is “changed into the same image from glory to glory… by the Spirit of the Lord” (2 Corinthians 3:18, KJV).
This is the renewing of the mind Paul speaks of in Romans 12:1-2. It is not about agreeing with commandments but about presenting the body as a living sacrifice—holy and acceptable already because of Christ’s work. The believer comes to the altar saying, “I am dead here. I cannot move. Nevertheless, I live. Yet not I, but Christ.” The renewal is seeing oneself as one truly is: a member of the body of Christ, indwelt by the Head.
The Branch and the Vine
Consider the analogy of the branch and the vine. The branch remains itself, with its unique form and place: “Nevertheless I live.” But the life flowing through it, producing leaves and fruit, is the vine’s life: “Yet not I, but Christ.” The focus is not on the sap but on staying connected to the vine. The goal is not to “produce Christlikeness” by effort but to focus on Christ. His life flows in a gentle, sovereign way. Often the believer will not even realize it is happening until they look back and see the fruit borne.
This is why the law is excluded: “The law is not of faith” (Galatians 3:12, KJV). Faith looks to Another and says, “You did it. You are it.” Law looks to self and says, “I must do it.” These are mutually exclusive principles. Rejoicing in the gospel—thanking Him for His blood, His Spirit, your access, your union—is how the believer is “washed” and “renewed.” They put on the new man, which is Christ Himself. This new creation does not need a commandment to be holy; it is holy.
Where Your Eyes Rest
The practical key is to take the eyes off personal performance altogether. The believer stops stressing about whether they are pleasing God or making deals with Him. Instead, they abide in the love that has already been proven: “We love him, because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19, KJV). Any genuine love for God that arises is Christ in the believer, loving the Father through them. The believer is rooted and grounded in His love.
What about failure? The believer returns immediately to the gospel. They confess sin and receive cleansing (1 John 1:9), then look again to the Cross where the old man was dealt with. There is no attempt to repair the old vessel; it is reckoned dead. The believer presents themselves again as one alive from the dead, holy and accepted, trusting the Life within to do through them what they cannot.
This is true rest and blessedness. It is not a technique for sinless perfection but the daily walk of faith in the Son of God. The believer lives by His faith, trusting that because He lives in them, He will live through them. They do not frustrate the grace of God by reaching back for the law’s whip. They simply believe: Crucified with Christ. Alive in Christ. Christ in me. And out of that believing, He flows.
