“But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world.”
(Galatians 6:14)
Paul’s words to the Galatian believers in this passage leave no room for divided loyalties. He does not say that the cross should be one devotion among many, nor even the highest among several. As children of the King, our one pursuit, our highest loyalty must be found in the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ alone.
Paul’s declaration also assumes that something decisive has happened to the believer. Christianity is not some religious add-on to an otherwise unchanged life. There must be, as the older writers say, a great alteration in the whole man. The difference must be as real and as stark as the difference between a living man and a dead one.
To glory in the cross means that the believer stands on the other side of death. Scripture insists on this point. “We are buried with him by baptism into death,” Paul writes, “that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life” (Rom. 6:4-5). If we have been planted together with Him in the likeness of His death, we shall also be in the likeness of His resurrection.
This is why the believer is described as one who has been dead with Christ, crucified with Him, and now lives a borrowed life. “I am crucified with Christ,” Paul says, “nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me” (Gal. 2:20). The self that once ruled, boasted, planned, and justified itself has been put to death. The life that now powers the believer is Christ’s own life, lived out by faith in the Son of God who loved us and gave Himself for us.
The cross also reverses the believer’s relationship to the world. Paul says that by the cross the world is crucified to him, and he to the world. This does not mean that the Christian leaves the world physically, but that the old desires, dependences, and admirations have been broken. The world no longer defines the believer’s success, worth, or identity. Its recognition no longer governs the heart. Its threats no longer hold final power. The cross has driven a wedge between the believer and the world.
The same is true of the flesh. “Our old man is crucified with him,” Scripture says, “that the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin” (Rom. 6:6). The flesh is not just restrained; it is sentenced. Its authority is revoked. Its rule is no longer legitimate. Those who belong to Christ have crucified the flesh with its affections and lusts. This is a clear declaration of changed allegiance.
Even the law no longer holds the believer. “I through the law am dead to the law,” Paul says, “that I might live unto God” (Gal. 2:19). The law still instructs, but it no longer condemns. The believer does not live under it as a means of righteousness, but before God in grateful obedience.
The Christian must, therefore, live in such a way that it is clear Christ lives in him.[1] Scripture describes believers as pilgrims and strangers. They live in the world, but not as those who belong to it. Their values, hopes, and direction are focused elsewhere.
What this all means is that eternal life for the believer does not begin at death; that life has already begun. It shows itself in a growing likeness to heaven: love, peace, purity, and holiness. It feeds on heavenly things. It proves itself durable, not easily extinguished by hardship or temptation. Like all living things, it grows. It springs up. The path of the just shines more and more unto the perfect day.
To glory in the cross, then, is a confession that everything has changed. The old life has been put to death and the new life has begun. And there is no place left for boasting except in the death of the Son of God.
Contemplations:
- My reluctance to die. I see how much of me still wants change without denial, growth without loss. I often want Christ added to my life, not my life ended in Him. Yet the cross allows no such bargain. Teach me to accept that real life only comes through dying with Christ.
- My friendship with the world. I realize how the world still speaks to me. Its measures of success still tempt me. Its comforts still draw my heart. I confess that this shows how lightly I sometimes take the cross. If the world is truly crucified to me, why do I keep listening for its praise? Help me let go of such desires, Lord.
- My tolerance of the flesh. I excuse what Scripture calls crucified. I manage sin instead of putting it to death. I confess that this is nothing less than disobedience. The cross did not negotiate with sin; it condemned it. Make me serious where I have been casual, and firm where I have been indulgent.
- My small view of new life. I settle too easily for a stalled, minimal Christianity. I forget that eternal life has already begun and should be growing. I confess that I often aim at survival instead of holiness. Lift my eyes to the life I have been given and call me forward into it.
Prayer (Confession)
Holy God, I come before You humbled by the weight of the cross and by my uneven response to it. You have not given me a small salvation or a partial deliverance, yet I often live as though very little has changed. I confess that I resist the depth of what it means to be crucified with Christ. I want the comfort of forgiveness without the cost of dying to myself.
I confess that I still look for glory in places where it does not belong. I measure myself by standards shaped by the world rather than by the cross. I care too much about approval, ease, and security. This reveals how lightly I take the death of Your Son. Forgive me for trying to keep one foot in a life that You have already judged and condemned.
I confess that my relationship with sin is often too familiar. I tolerate what You have called to be crucified. I excuse habits, thoughts, and desires that belong to the old man. I acknowledge that this is a failure of obedience. I have known the truth, yet I have not always walked in it.
I often live as though eternal life were only future, not present. I settle into spiritual stagnation and satisfy myself with minimal growth. I forget that the life You have given is meant to increase, to deepen, to reflect heaven even now. Forgive me for aiming so low when You have called me higher.
Bring me back again to the cross. Strip away my false glories. Kill what must die, even when it is painful. Let the life of Christ be seen in me more clearly. Teach me to boast only where You boast, to glory only where You have placed Your glory. Make the cross not only my doctrine, but my daily path.
In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.
Further Scripture References for Gal. 6:14:
1 Cor. 2:2; Rom. 6:6; Gal. 2:20; Phil. 3:3; Phil. 3:7-8
[1] Jonathan Edwards, “God’s Gift of Eternal Life,” in Jonathan Edwards Sermons, ed. Wilson H. Kimnach (New Haven, CT: The Jonathan Edwards Center at Yale University, 1746), Ro 6:23.
