You’re Not Who You Used to Be

Good morning, everyone. If we haven’t met, I’m Matt VanCleave, one of the pastors here at Blue Oaks.

Have you ever noticed how long it can take for your life to catch up with a reality that has already changed?

You graduate from school, but for a while you still have that Sunday-night feeling that you’ve forgotten an assignment.

You change jobs, but you still instinctively reach for the old routine.

Your kids grow up, but somewhere in your mind they’re still twelve.

Sometimes something can be completely over, and yet we keep living as though it isn’t.

And I think something very similar happens in the Christian life.

Paul is about to make one of the strangest statements in the book of Romans. He’s going to tell people who are very much alive that they’ve died.

Not that they’re ‘supposed’ to die.
Not that they should ‘try’ to die.

He says something has already happened to them — “We are those who have died to sin.”

And I think most of us hear that and think… Really?

Because sin seems remarkably unaware of its own funeral.

I still get tempted.
I still have desires I wish I didn’t have.
I still respond in ways I regret.

So what in the world does Paul mean when he says I’ve “died to sin”?

That’s what Romans 6 is about.

Paul isn’t simply going to tell us that Jesus forgives our old life. He’s going to tell us that something has happened to our old life.

And if we understand what he’s saying, it changes the way we think about temptation… and failure… and obedience… and even what we’re going to celebrate through baptism later today.

Let’s begin with the first two verses.

What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer? (Romans 6:1-2)

I love this because Paul anticipates exactly what some people are thinking.

He’s just spent an entire chapter saying that where sin increased, grace increased all the more.

So someone naturally asks, “Well then… if God’s grace gets bigger every time I sin, shouldn’t I just keep sinning?”

You almost get the feeling there’s someone in the back row raising their hand — “So… just making sure I understand this correctly…”

It’s like they’re looking for the loophole.

You know those people who read the employee handbook not to understand the rules — but to figure out how close they can get to breaking them?

That’s this question.

At first, that sounds like a ridiculous question. But if we’re honest, it’s actually a logical question.

If salvation is really by grace…
If forgiveness really is a gift…
If God doesn’t love me because of my performance…

Then why not just live however I want?

Here’s what’s remarkable. Paul never backs away from grace. He doesn’t say, “Well… I didn’t mean grace is quite that free.” He doesn’t start adding conditions or fine print.

Instead, he gives an answer no one expects.

By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer? (Romans 6:2)

Notice what he doesn’t say.

He doesn’t begin with rules.
He doesn’t begin with guilt.
He doesn’t begin with fear of punishment.

He begins with identity.

It’s as if someone asked a happily married man, “So… are you still looking for girlfriends?”

He’d probably laugh and say, “No. That’s not who I am anymore.”

Or imagine asking an adult, “Do you still ask your parents for permission to play video games?”

That belonged to another stage of life.

Paul says the Christian life works the same way.

His answer isn’t, “Stop sinning because you’re a Christian.”

His answer is, “Why would you keep living as though you’re still the person you used to be?”

That’s a completely different way of thinking about change.

Most of us assume behavior changes identity. Paul says identity changes behavior.

If behavior alone changed identity, every January we’d all become completely different people.

Identity changes behavior.

And that’s the truth he’s going to spend the rest of this chapter unpacking.

Look what he says in the next verse:

Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?

We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.

For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his.

For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin—because anyone who has died has been set free from sin. (Romans 6:3-7)

At first glance, this almost feels like Paul changes the subject.

He’s been talking about grace… now suddenly he’s talking about baptism.

But he hasn’t changed the subject at all. He’s explaining why Christians don’t simply continue living the way they always have.

Because something has fundamentally changed. And baptism is the picture of that change.

I think it’s important for us to understand that when Paul wrote these words, baptism wasn’t viewed the way many people think about it today.

Today, someone might say, “I’ve been meaning to get baptized. I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

We procrastinate all kinds of things, don’t we?

“I’ve been meaning to go to counseling.”
“I’ve been meaning to start exercising.”
“I’ve been meaning to call my parents.”

Some of you have had “organize the garage” on your to-do list since the Obama administration.

Baptism wasn’t like that.

No one in the first century thought, “I’ll get around to publicly identifying with Jesus one of these years.”

When they stepped into the water, they were making a decisive declaration.

You see… baptism wasn’t treated as an optional next step. It was the public declaration that your allegiance had changed.

For many of the first Christians, stepping into the waters of baptism came with an enormous cost.

Some were rejected by their families.
Some lost business relationships.
Some were persecuted.
Some lost their place in the synagogue.

And that’s not just church attendance. It often meant:

losing business relationships
losing family support
becoming socially isolated
sometimes even being treated as dead by your family.

Why?

Because baptism wasn’t simply a religious ceremony. It was a public announcement.

“I belong to Jesus now.”
“My past is no longer my primary identity.”
“Failure is no longer the truest thing about me.”
“My history isn’t writing my future anymore.”
“Christ has spoken a deeper truth over my life.”

That’s why Paul immediately points to baptism. Not because the water itself changes you. But because baptism tells a story.

Think about what happens in baptism — You go down into the water. Then you come back up.

Why?

Because baptism is acting out the story of Jesus — His death. His burial. His resurrection.

But Paul says something even more remarkable. He says it isn’t just Jesus’ story anymore.

It’s yours.

Notice the language Paul uses.

“We were buried ‘with’ him.”
“We have been united ‘with’ him.”

Again and again he keeps saying the same thing — “With him.”

It’s worth asking why Paul keeps repeating those words.

And I believe it’s because it’s one of the greatest themes in the entire New Testament.

If you read Paul’s letters, you’ll notice he almost never describes Christians simply as people who believe in Jesus.

His favorite description is people who are “in Christ.” — United with Christ.

Why?

Because Christianity isn’t primarily about adopting a new philosophy or trying to imitate a great teacher.

It’s about sharing in the life of another person.

It isn’t simply believing certain things about Jesus. It’s being joined to him.

Think about how often we use the phrase “with.”

When two people get married, they don’t simply promise to admire each other. They promise to build one life together.

Their stories become intertwined.
Their futures become intertwined.

Paul says something even more astonishing has happened through Jesus.

His death became your death.
His resurrection became your resurrection.
His future became your future.

That’s why your identity changed.

Not because you became better. But because you became united to him.

This is one of Paul’s favorite expressions — In Christ… with Christ… united with Christ.

Think about how different that is from the way many of us imagine the Christian life.

Sometimes we picture it as Jesus helping us become a slightly improved version of ourselves.

A little kinder.
A little more patient.
A little more forgiving.

Paul says something more radical — God didn’t come to improve the old you. He came to give you a new identity altogether.

That’s why baptism is such a beautiful picture.

You don’t go into the water to become someone new. You go into the water because, through Jesus, you already are someone new.

Baptism doesn’t create your new identity. It celebrates it.

I heard about a pastor who was baptizing a man in a river. He started to lower him under the water but he current took him and moved him several feet downstream.

So the pastor reached over, grabbed him, and tried again. And apparently the current was stronger than the pastor realized, because the guy ended up doing the same thing.

By the third attempt, the people gathered weren’t sure whether they were witnessing a baptism or a search-and-rescue operation.

Fortunately, baptism doesn’t depend on your ability to come up in exactly the same place you went down.

It’s the picture that matters.

You go beneath the water because something has died.

You come back out of the water because something new has come alive.

By the way, I’ve had the privilege of standing here and baptizing hundreds of people over the years… and I’ve never lost one.

I’ve had some pretty large men look at me before I baptize them with genuine concern about whether I’m capable of bringing them back up.

Apparently there’s a moment right before baptism when you suddenly evaluate your pastor’s upper-body strength.

But so far, everyone has come back up.

There’s one baptism I’ll never forget though.

It was my son, Ezra.

His sister Lily had already been baptized.
His sister Amryn was baptized.
Even one of his soccer coaches was baptized.

To be honest, I kept wondering if one of those moments would be the one that inspired him to take that step.

But they didn’t.

And somewhere along the way, I made a decision. I wasn’t going to pressure him. I wanted this to be his decision.

His faith. His declaration.

Then one Sunday, at the end of one of our services, we did what we’ve done many times here at Blue Oaks.

We opened the water for anyone who wanted to be baptized.

No plan. No pressure. Just an invitation.

And I watched my son get up and walk to the front.

I was baptizing someone when I noticed him… and to be honest I was so emotional about it I couldn’t even talk to the person I was baptizing anymore.

The probably thought, “What is happening with Matt?”

It was so wonderful… because he had decided.

Not because someone convinced him. Not because anyone expected him to. But because he knew he was ready.

That’s one reason the moment meant so much to me.

I couldn’t make that declaration for him.
His sisters couldn’t make it for him.
His coach couldn’t make it for him.

At some point faith becomes your own.

I don’t know that I’ve ever been more proud to be his dad.

Not because he got into a tub of water. But because he was publicly saying, “This is who I am. I belong to Jesus.”

That’s what baptism is.

It’s not earning God’s acceptance. It’s announcing the identity he’s already given you.

It’s stepping into the water and saying, “The old story no longer defines me. Christ has spoken a deeper truth over my life.”

And that’s incredibly important because every one of us has an old story.

Maybe yours says,

“I’m never enough.”
“I’m defined by my divorce.”
“I’m controlled by my addiction.”
“I’m always anxious.”
“I’m the angry one.”
“I’m the failure.”

Paul says those stories are no longer your truest identity.

They may describe your past. They don’t define your future.

That’s what baptism declares.

Not that you’ve become perfect. But that you’ve become his.

And once Paul establishes that new identity, he takes one more step. He explains what that means for the battle with sin itself.

Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him.

The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus. (Romans 6:8–11)

He says if we’ve died with Christ, we also believe we’ll live with him.

Then he reminds us that Christ was raised from the dead, never to die again. Death no longer has mastery over him.

And because we’re united with Christ, death no longer has the final word over us either.

Then Paul comes to one of the most practical commands in the entire chapter.

In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus. (Romans 6:11)

That little phrase, “count yourselves,” is so important.

The Greek word Paul uses was often used in accounting. It means to reckon something as true. To take it into account. To base your decisions on reality.

Imagine checking your bank account before making a major purchase.

You don’t spend money based on what you “wish” were in your account. You make decisions based on what’s actually there.

Or it’s like receiving an inheritance you didn’t know existed.

Imagine someone calls and says, “A relative you’ve never met left you five million dollars.”

You have two choices.

You can keep living as though you’re broke… or you can begin making decisions based on what’s actually true.

Nothing changed because you believed it. It was already yours. Believing it simply changed the way you lived.

Paul says that’s what faith looks like.

He’s not telling Christians to pretend. He’s not saying, “Just convince yourself you’re different.”

He’s saying, “Start living from the reality God has already declared to be true.”

That’s very different.

Think about how often we do the opposite. We let our feelings tell us who we are.

“I still struggle, so maybe nothing has changed.”
“I failed again, so I must still be the same person.”
“I don’t feel close to God today, so maybe I’m not.”

Paul says, “Don’t let your feelings have the final word. Let the gospel have the final word.”

That’s one of the greatest challenges of the Christian life — learning to trust what God says is true even on the days when our emotions tell us otherwise.

I’ve been thinking about that as I’ve been reading “The Seven Primal Questions.”

The author, Mike Foster, argues that the stories we believe about ourselves eventually become the lives we live.

Paul would agree.

But then he’d ask an even deeper question. Whose story are you believing? Are you still living out the old story?

“I’m not enough.”
“I’ll never change.”
“This is just who I am.”

Or are you beginning to live out the story God tells about you?

“I’ve been united with Christ.”
“My old self has died.”
“I’ve been raised to a new life.”

One story keeps you trapped in the past. The other sets you free to walk into the future God has already begun.

Notice something else. Paul doesn’t say, “Feel dead to sin.” He says, “Count yourselves dead to sin.”

Sometimes our feelings are the last thing to catch up with what God has already done.

And that’s why faith is so important.

Faith isn’t pretending something is true. Faith is trusting what God says is true before all of our emotions have caught up.

That’s how real transformation begins.

Not by trying to become someone new. But by learning, day after day, to live as the person Jesus has already made you to be.

And that leads Paul to one final question — “If this new identity is really ours… how do we actually live it out tomorrow morning?”

That’s where he takes us next.

Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you obey its evil desires.

Do not offer any part of yourself to sin as an instrument of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness.

For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace. (Romans 6:12–14)

Now Paul finally answers the question every one of us has been asking.

“Okay… if this is who I am now, what does that look like tomorrow morning?”

And notice what he says.

Therefore, do not let sin reign in your mortal body.

Did you catch that word? — “Reign.”

That’s not the first time Paul has used it.

Last week he told us that death reigned because of Adam. Then he said grace now reigns through Jesus Christ.

Now he says, “Don’t let sin reign.” He’s continuing the same picture.

Imagine your heart as a throne.

Every day, something wants to sit on that throne.

Some mornings your phone is trying to take the throne before your feet even hit the floor.

Before you’ve even said, “Good morning, God,” you’ve already checked email, Instagram, ESPN, the weather, your stocks, and somehow ended up watching a guy restore a 1968 pickup truck on YouTube. And now it’s 8:15.

Something is always competing for our attention.

Fear wants the throne.
Approval wants the throne.
Anger wants the throne.
Success wants the throne.
Comfort wants the throne.

Sin is always trying to reclaim the seat of authority in your life.

Paul says, “It doesn’t belong there anymore.”

Why?

Because you have a new King.

Notice something else.

Paul doesn’t say, “Sin no longer exists.” He says, “Don’t let it reign.”

There’s a huge difference.

Sin is still present. But it’s no longer king.

It still tries to influence you. It no longer has the authority to define you.

That’s incredibly hopeful.

Because some of you walked in this morning thinking, “If I still struggle, maybe I haven’t really changed.”

Paul says, “No. The struggle itself is evidence that something has changed.”

Before Jesus, sin ruled without resistance. Now there’s a battle because there’s a new King.

Paul goes on to say,

Do not offer any part of yourself to sin… but rather offer yourselves to God.

I love that language because he’s describing worship.

Every day we’re offering ourselves to something.

Our attention.
Our affection.
Our time.
Our bodies.
Our gifts.

We’re always placing them in someone’s hands.

Paul says, “Place them in God’s hands.”

Marcus Buckingham has spent years helping people discover their strengths and become the best version of themselves.

Our staff are currently working through his most recent book, “Design Love In.”

It’s a great resource. And I think there’s real wisdom in helping people understand how God has uniquely wired them.

Jim Collins recently released a fascinating book called “What to Make of a Life.”

After spending years studying organizations, he turned his attention to people and asked a much more personal question: What do you make of a life?

How do you know who you are?
How do you navigate those moments when the life you thought you were building suddenly changes?

Collins talks a lot about self-knowledge — learning how you’re wired, what you’re made for, and how to build a life around that understanding.

I think there’s tremendous wisdom in that.

But Paul takes the question one step further.

The Christian question isn’t simply, “Who am I?”

It’s, “Who am I now that I’ve been united with Christ?”

Because the truest version of you isn’t simply waiting somewhere inside you to be discovered.

According to Paul, something genuinely new has happened to you.

You’ve died with Christ.
You’ve been raised with Christ.
You belong to Christ.

So the question isn’t merely, “What am I capable of becoming?” Or “What should I make of my life?”

It’s, “What kind of life makes sense for someone who is now alive to God?”

That’s the life Paul is inviting us to live.

And that’s why Paul ends with such incredible hope.

For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under law, but under grace.

Notice he doesn’t say, “I hope sin won’t be your master.” He doesn’t say, “Maybe someday.” He makes a declaration.

“Sin is no longer your master. Grace is.”

That doesn’t mean you’ll never stumble. It means failure is no longer your identity.

Grace has the final word.

And maybe that’s what some of us need to hear today.

You’ve spent years letting your past tell you who you are.

You’ve let your failures name you.
Your wounds define you.
Your regrets write your story.

Paul says, “That’s not your name anymore.” Jesus has given you a new one.

The old story no longer has the final word. Jesus does.

And maybe that’s why baptism is such a beautiful way to end this service… because every person who steps into these waters is saying the same thing —

“I’m not claiming to be perfect. I’m declaring that I belong to Jesus. My past is no longer my primary identity.”

And if you’ve never taken that step… maybe today is the day your faith becomes public.

Not because baptism saves you. But because sometimes our hearts need the courage to publicly declare what God has already done privately.

What better way to say, “I’m not who I used to be.”

In just a moment, we’re going to hear Brad’s story. Then we’re going to celebrate with him as he takes this step.

And after that, we’re going to leave the waters open.

Because there may be some of you sitting here today who have already placed your faith in Jesus… but you’ve never publicly declared it through baptism.

Maybe you’ve been waiting.
Maybe you’ve been putting it off.
Maybe you’ve been wondering if the time is right.

If today, as you’ve listened to Romans 6, you’ve realized, “This is my story too,” then I’d love for today to be the day you take this step.

Not because baptism earns God’s love. You already heard that last week.
Not because baptism makes you a Christian. Only faith in Jesus does that.

But because Jesus gave us baptism as the beautiful way to tell the world, “I’m not who I used to be. I belong to him.”

Alright, let’s turn our attention to the side screens.