Father, in the mighty name of Jesus, I refuse to treat Your grace casually. Break every chain of sin in my life. Expose every lie my flesh has believed. Give me a holy hatred for sin and a fierce love for righteousness. Strengthen me by Your Spirit to reject every temptation and stand boldly for Your truth. Jesus, thank You for Your sacrifice—teach me to honor it with my life, my choices, and my obedience. I choose holiness. I choose surrender. I choose You. Amen.
We talk a lot about grace—Christ taking our punishment, ending the need for sacrifices, shielding us from the wrath of a holy God. But somewhere along the line, people twisted that truth into an excuse to live however they want. Let me be blunt: grace is not your permission slip to sin.
Some people ask, “Well, if God won’t punish us anymore, why not just sin as much as we want?” Because that’s a foolish, flesh-driven mindset. Yes, God still loves His children—but sin will wreck you. It will chew up your life, harden your heart, and make you spiritually deaf and blind (Hebrews 3:13). Grace may remove eternal punishment, but it does not remove consequences.
The Bible doesn’t sugarcoat this: Whatever you obey, you become a slave to—sin leading to death or obedience leading to righteousness (Romans 6:16). There’s no neutral ground. If you’re indulging your flesh, you are willingly chaining yourself back to the very thing Christ died to free you from.
Sure, God can love someone sitting in a jail cell. But the bars are still there. Their crimes still destroyed lives. Sin always hurts someone—sexual immorality destroys families, addictions destroy bodies and relationships, lies destroy trust, covetousness opens the door to even worse evil. Sin is not harmless; it’s weaponized self-destruction.
That’s why Scripture says we have an obligation—not to the flesh, but to put it to death (Romans 8:12–13). If you keep feeding your old nature, you will die. Spiritually. Emotionally. Sometimes physically. Grace doesn’t change that.
And let’s be honest—if we truly understand how deeply the Father loves us, we wouldn’t dare treat His grace like a cheap loophole. To use the cross as an excuse to sin is to spit on the sacrifice of Jesus. It’s spiritual arrogance, plain and simple.
Yes, we’re under the law of love now (Romans 13:8–10). Yes, we’re freed from the curse of the Law because Christ became the curse for us (Galatians 3:13). But freedom from the Law was never meant to give us freedom to rebel. It was meant to free us to love, to obey, to walk in the Spirit.
God’s intention has always been for humanity to accept His love. But we rejected it, chased evil, and proved we were utterly incapable of saving ourselves. That’s why a Savior had to come—not so we could go back to our filth, but so we could finally walk in the life, purity, and power He paid for.
Grace is a gift—but it’s also a call to fight your sin, not flirt with it.
Tonight, I had to sit down and pour my heart out because this battle with overindulgence has been quietly gnawing at the edges of my faith. And honestly, I’m sick of pretending that it’s not affecting me. Whether it’s food, social media, endless scrolling, or just chasing the next little high—I’ve let too many earthly things take up space in my soul where only You belong.
Overindulgence isn’t just about excess; it’s about idolatry. That’s what You’ve been pressing on my heart lately. It’s not just me failing to “have discipline.” It’s me turning to broken cisterns that hold no water (Jeremiah 2:13) when You, the fountain of living water, are right here. I’ve made small gods out of comfort, distraction, and instant gratification.
And yet… You still pursue me.
“No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.” – 1 Corinthians 10:13
That verse hits me different now. You don’t abandon me in the temptation—you make escape routes. But am I taking them? Or am I choosing to sit in the flame because I like the warmth, even though I know it’s burning me?
Lord, You know my heart. You know that when I reach for more food, more comfort, more scrolling—what I’m really reaching for is peace, joy, control… something to numb the ache. But only You satisfy.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” – Matthew 5:6
I want to be filled with righteousness, not with stuff. Not with momentary pleasures. Not with counterfeit comforts. The more I stuff myself with the world, the emptier I feel. You didn’t design me to live like this.
You are my portion. You are my peace. You are more than enough.
I remember when Jesus was in the wilderness. Satan tempted Him with all the world’s comforts, and Jesus didn’t negotiate or reason—He responded with the Word. That’s where I need to go back. Scripture isn’t just knowledge, it’s weaponry.
“It is written: Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.” – Matthew 4:4
I’ve been living on bread alone—on dopamine hits and empty calories of worldly joy. But I crave the Bread of Life. Jesus, You are that Bread.
Holy Spirit, help me walk by You, not by the flesh. Galatians 5:16 says if I do that, I won’t gratify the desires of the flesh. It’s not just about saying “no” to the temptation—it’s about saying a louder, more wholehearted “YES” to You. I can’t white-knuckle my way out of this. I need transformation from the inside out.
Lord, expose the lies I believe. The lie that I need “just one more bite,” or “just one more episode,” or “just a little retail therapy.” Rip the mask off of every false savior in my life. I want to see it for what it is—a thief of joy, a robber of peace.
And You… You are the Good Shepherd who restores my soul. You don’t shame me. You sanctify me.
You say: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” – 2 Corinthians 12:9
That means I don’t have to fake strength I don’t have. I can bring You the mess, the cravings, the cycle of overdoing it and regretting it. I can confess it—not as someone who’s defeated—but as someone who knows victory is coming, not because of me, but because of Christ in me.
Father, teach me contentment. Teach me to be grateful for the portion You give. Gratitude is such a weapon—it disarms the discontentment that fuels my overindulgence. When I thank You for what I have, I stop obsessing over what I think I lack.
“Give us this day our daily bread…” Not tomorrow’s, not next week’s, not Costco-sized spirituality. Daily. You want me to trust You one day at a time, and that’s enough.
Also, thank You for the people You’ve placed in my life who love me enough to hold me accountable. You never meant for me to walk through temptation alone. Community isn’t optional—it’s essential. Whether it’s through prayer, confession, or just checking in, I’m reminded that the enemy thrives in isolation, but dies in the light.
Tonight, I’m choosing to step into that light.
How to Resist the Temptation of Overindulgence (With God’s Help)
1. Recognize the Root
Overindulgence isn’t just bad behavior—it’s misplaced belief.
“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” — Matthew 6:21
I need to ask: What am I really craving? Is it comfort? Validation? Control? Peace? Once I recognize that the “thing” isn’t the real issue, I can begin to let Jesus meet the real need.
2. Pray Immediately and Intentionally
When temptation rises, I’m learning to stop and pray—even if it’s a whisper:
“Father, lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil” (Matthew 6:13).
Temptation thrives in silence. But when I bring God into the moment, the grip starts to loosen. He doesn’t expect me to be perfect—He wants me to be dependent.
3. Use Scripture as a Weapon
When Jesus was tempted, He didn’t argue—He quoted truth.
“It is written…” —Matthew 4:4
Here’s what I’m memorizing now:
“No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly” (Psalm 84:11)
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want” (Psalm 23:1)
“Walk by the Spirit and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh” (Galatians 5:16)
These verses are my ammo when I feel weak. They remind me that I lack nothing in Christ.
4. Practice Mindfulness
Sometimes I give in without thinking. But now I pause and ask:
What triggered this?
What am I feeling?
What lie am I believing?
I’ve started slowing down—especially when eating, scrolling, or shopping. When I move slower, I see clearer. I’m not meant to numb myself with noise but to notice what God’s already doing.
“Be still and know that I am God.” —Psalm 46:10
5. Establish Boundaries
I deleted a few apps today. Not because I’m “so spiritual,” but because I’m so easily distracted. I’ve created boundaries around meals, screen time, and spending.
Because honestly, why fight temptation on its turf when I can just flee?
“Flee from youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace…” —2 Timothy 2:22
6. Distract with Purpose
When a craving hits, I redirect it with intentional action:
Go on a walk and pray.
Read a Psalm aloud.
Text a godly friend.
Put on worship music and sing (even badly).
Distraction isn’t bad when it leads me to the One who actually satisfies.
7. Visualize Success in Christ
I don’t have to be a slave to “I can’t help myself.” That’s not my story anymore.
“You are not your own, for you were bought with a price.” —1 Corinthians 6:19–20
When I visualize myself resisting temptation—by God’s grace—I’m reminding myself that victory is possible. Not because of me, but because the Holy Spirit lives in me.
8. Seek Accountability
I confessed to a sister in Christ today. I told her about the areas I’m struggling with, and she didn’t judge me—she prayed with me.
Overindulgence thrives in secret. But confession brings healing.
“Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.” —James 5:16
9. Get Rest
Overindulgence creeps in when I’m tired, burned out, and empty. Jesus Himself rested. So who am I to try to live without it?
“Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” —Matthew 11:28
When I rest in Him, I don’t need to reach for false comforts. I’m filled already.
10. Cultivate Gratitude Daily
Gratitude isn’t fluff—it’s spiritual warfare.
“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” —1 Thessalonians 5:18
I’ve started writing down 3 things I’m thankful for each day. It’s harder to crave more when I realize I already have so much in Christ.
God, I surrender my cravings to You. I lay down every place in my heart that I’ve tried to fill without You. Heal the root, not just the symptoms. Cleanse my heart, renew my mind, and help me find true satisfaction in You alone. Teach me to recognize temptation for what it is—and give me the strength and desire to flee from it.
Father, I confess my need for You. I’m not strong on my own. But with You, I have victory. With You, I can walk in freedom. Let my life glorify You, not my own pleasure.
Help me, Lord, to live in step with Your Spirit. Help me say no to what harms me, and yes to what brings You glory. In Jesus’ name, amen.
One step at a time. One prayer at a time. I will not be defined by my struggles—I will be refined by God’s strength.
Jesus didn’t die so I could live in bondage. He died so I could live in freedom.
And I choose that freedom—today and every day after.
Peace with God is, at its core, a spiritual reconciliation between family members. It’s a restored relationship between Heavenly Father and earthly child, made possible simply because Jesus wanted it so—enough that He was willing to suffer, die, and rise from death for it.
Peace with God in Scripture
God is not at war with you.
If you were raised in one of the “fire-and-brimstone” denominations (or just spend a lot of time listening to street preachers and reading Old Testament histories), that statement probably made you feel simultaneously irritated and worried.
Or maybe you felt a sense of relief?
Don’t worry, whatever you felt is OK, because the honest truth really is what the Apostle Paul declared millennia ago (emphasis mine):
“Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God” (Romans 5:1-2).
Yep, despite the happily-hellish preaching of some of our favorite Bible teachers, God’s not in a prolonged battle with you or me. So what does that mean?
Let’s find out.
Jesus Isn’t Punishing You When my good friend Kent tells stories of growing up, I sometimes want to cringe. If the boy stubbed his toe or scraped his knee, a well-meaning grandmother was quick to pounce—and pronounce, “Jesus is punishing you!”
To her, it was simple: You sin. God smites you. For Kent, then, God was always antagonistic, always watching and frowning, constantly ready to unleash war against His misbehaving kids. It took decades—and seminary and a lifetime in church leadership—before Kent was finally able to believe for himself the truth he’d read, and preached:
“We have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ …” (Romans 5:1)
“No circumstance is the result of [God’s] punishment,” pastor Chuck Swindoll comments on this passage. “Bad things do not happen because we have been bad. No event is an expression of God’s ill will against us. On the contrary, He has promised to use every circumstance … to guide His own to maturity.”
So if Jesus isn’t punishing you, then what’s really going on?
Meaning of Peace with God It’s interesting to notice here that Paul didn’t say we have “peace of God” nor even “God’s peace in us”—though both those things are also true (see John 14:27, Philippians 4:7, and Colossians 3:15).
Instead Paul said we have peace with God.
That tiny word makes a big difference! Remember Paul originally wrote Romans 5:1-2 in Greek, using a word for “with” (prόs) that carries shades of meaning we’re not used to today. Prόs isn’t just “You-and-me-and-God standing near each other.”
Rather, in its ancient cultural context, this “with” was an active word “implying motion or direction.” That’s why a few trusted 19th-century Bible texts translated prόs differently, closer to its original meaning:
“We have peace toward God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Young’s Literal Translation, 1898).
“We have peace towards God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Darby Translation, 1890).
The ancient idea here is one of deliberate movement toward something. Place that within Paul’s context of Romans 5:1 and you see a picture of a man or woman moving forward, unhindered, toward a welcoming God. Peace with God.
How is this possible? Well, because (ahem), God’s not at war with you.
You see, when there’s hostility between you and God, it’s a one-way battle. We sin and make ourselves enemies of God, but because of Christ, God refuses to make himself our enemy in return (see Romans 5:8 and 8:1-2). You and I lash out in defiance and disobedience and selfishness and pride and hurtfulness. We miss the mark—and we misunderstand how our own sin blows up in our faces (see John 8:34, Romans 3:23, 6:23, and Ephesians 4:17-24).
Instinctively we feel the separation we’ve created between God and us, along with sin’s harmful fallout, so we blame God for our pain. Yet the reality is that the scars and heartaches we’re suffering are consequences of our own sinful outbursts, not God’s punishment (1).
Theologian William Newell reframes it this way, “Our peace with God is not as between two nations before at war; but as between a king and rebellious and guilty subjects.”
That image helps, I think, but maybe the better picture is this: You and I? We’re that obstinate child shouting “I hate you!” as we stomp off and slam the bedroom door. Meanwhile, our Heavenly Father refuses to retaliate, waiting instead for us to return again to His presence in peace. Why? Because:
“We have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Romans 5:1)
Peace with God through Jesus The way Paul describes it in Romans 5:1-2 (and 3-11), this kind of peace is, at its core, a spiritual reconciliation between family members. It’s a restored relationship between Heavenly Father and earthly child, made possible simply because Jesus wanted it so—enough that He was willing to suffer, die, and rise from death for it. And because Christ Himself has guaranteed our peace with God, we live with unfettered “access” (prosagōgē) to our Father—a word “used in the ancient world to refer to a person’s being conducted into the presence of royalty” (verse 2).
How cool is that?
Still, the absolute best description of peace with God is found in one insightful story told by Jesus long ago, captured for generations in Luke 15:11-32. It goes like this:
A brash, ungrateful young man hatefully insults his father, takes his dad’s money and sinfully squanders it in a foreign country. This situation ends badly for him, until one day he finally realizes his devastating circumstances are caused by his own sin. Then this thought enters his head,
“I will go home to my father” (Luke 15:18, NLT).
The son arrives home fearfully, expecting well-deserved hostility. Instead the father greets his bad boy with open arms and great joy. Why? Because it was the son who warred against the father, and never the father at war with his son.
This lesson of the Prodigal reveals the meaning and implications of Romans 5:1-2 most clearly to our myopic eyes. In a very real, spiritual and practical sense, having peace with God means simply this:
You can always go home.
Note:
Please be aware, I’m not talking about the discipline of God in this context. We know that God corrects his children (Hebrews 12:6), but here we’re speaking of the judgments and subsequent punishments for sin.
We are given grace through Christ. He took upon Himself the chastisement for sin. No more animal sacrifices and no more fear of wrath from the holy Judge.
This raises the question by some people, then if we won’t be punished anymore, why can’t we just sin as much as we want to?
God will still care for us and forgive us no matter what. But sin carries tremendous consequences. We will suffer for following our flesh. And continued evil behavior can harden our hearts toward the Spirit and keep us from hearing Him (Hebrews 3:13).
Don’t you know that when you offer yourselves to someone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one you obey—whether you are slaves to sin, which leads to death, or to obedience, which leads to righteousness? (Romans 6:16)
A person can sit in a jail cell after committing crimes and God will still love them. But the results of their actions against society will be implemented. Sin hurts people. Sexual immorality can bring diseases and break up families. Drug and alcohol abuse destroys bodies and relationships. Lying to others breaks trust. Covetousness plants the seed for stealing.
Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have an obligation—but it is not to the flesh, to live according to it. For if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live. (Romans 8:12-13)
If we have the deep revelation of how much the Father cherishes us, we will not want to violate that bond. We will be forever grateful for what the Savior did for us. If we approach grace as an opportunity to sin, we are abusing the cross of Christ.
The only law we are under now is the law of love (Romans 13:8-10). When we understand that we cannot be made holy by what we do, but only through the sacrifice of the Son, we are set free from the curse of the Law.
Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: “Cursed is everyone who is hung on a pole.” He redeemed us in order that the blessing given to Abraham might come to the Gentiles through Christ Jesus, so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit. (Galatians 3:13)
Our Creator’s original intention was for mankind to accept His love. But His heart was ignored, and misdeeds abounded. He had to show us that we were sinful so we would call out to Him in repentance.
We had to find out we couldn’t save ourselves. That’s why He sent us a Savior.
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