The Law That Lied to Me
The law promised life—but gave me death. Only the gospel tells the truth: holiness isn’t achieved by striving, but received through Christ.
The law made me a promise.
It told me: “If you do good, God will bless you. If you fail, He will curse you.”
It sounded simple. Clean. Black-and-white.
So I believed it. And I built my life around it.
But the law lied to me.
The Law Promised Life
Paul says in Galatians 3:21:
“For if there had been a law given which could have given life, verily righteousness should have been by the law.”
That’s the lie. The law looks like life.
It offers control, certainty, measurable results.
If you’re good enough, you’ll get what you long for.
If you’re pure enough, God will approve of you.
If you’re faithful enough, you’ll finally have peace.
It’s intoxicating because it feels achievable.
But in the end, it’s slavery.
The Law Delivered Death
Paul calls the law “the ministration of death” (2 Corinthians 3:7).
Why? Because no matter how hard you try, it’s never enough.
The law doesn’t heal sin. It exposes it.
The law doesn’t remove guilt. It multiplies it.
The law doesn’t make you holy. It leaves you hollow.
I know, because I lived it.
I stayed up late, fasted, prayed, hustled—hoping to buy God’s blessing with spiritual currency.
But all I got was exhaustion, shame, and bitterness.
The law promised life.
But it gave me death.
The Gospel Tells the Truth
Here’s the truth:
Righteousness is not earned—it’s given.
Holiness is not achieved—it’s received.
God’s favor is not purchased—it’s poured out.
The gospel doesn’t say, “Do this and live.”
It says, “It is finished.”
Paul writes: “The law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith.” (Galatians 3:24).
The law’s job was never to give life.
It was to drive us to the One who is life.
Why It Matters
If you live by the law, you will always measure yourself by failure.
But if you live by the Spirit, you measure everything by grace.
The law lied to me.
But Jesus told me the truth.
And the truth is this: I don’t have to earn God’s love.
I already have it.
Why I Stopped Trying to Be Holy
I stopped trying to be holy. Not because holiness doesn’t matter, but because my striving was the problem. Holiness is not my work for God—it’s His work in me.
I used to think holiness meant effort.
If I prayed long enough, avoided the right sins, showed up at every service, maybe then I’d be holy.
And I tried. Hard.
I made holiness into a job description.
But instead of finding peace, I found exhaustion.
The harder I tried to be holy, the more unholy I felt.
The Problem With “Trying”
When Paul wrote to the Galatians, he asked:
“Are ye so foolish? having begun in the Spirit, are ye now made perfect by the flesh?”
(Galatians 3:3)
That was me. I thought the Spirit saved me, but after that it was up to me to finish the job. To polish myself into holiness.
But holiness isn’t earned like a paycheck. It’s received like a gift.
Holiness Is Christ, Not a Checklist
Paul says it plainly:
“I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me…”
(Galatians 2:20)
The old me died.
The one who hustled for approval, who measured worth by effort—that person was crucified.
And the life I live now isn’t about my performance. It’s Christ living in me.
Holiness isn’t about trying harder.
It’s about trusting deeper.
The False Holiness That Burns Us Out
We often define holiness by externals:
How often we pray.
How clean our habits are.
How good we look to others.
But that kind of holiness doesn’t free you. It chains you.
It’s Sinai all over again—rules that demand, but never deliver.
True holiness doesn’t come from human striving. It comes from the Spirit who makes us new.
The Freedom of Real Holiness
Paul again:
“Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.”
(Galatians 5:1)
Holiness isn’t a cage.
It’s liberty.
When Peter said, “Be ye holy; for I am holy” (1 Peter 1:16), he wasn’t handing out a burden. He was pointing us to the source. Holiness isn’t something we manufacture—it’s Someone we reflect.
Why I Stopped Trying
I stopped trying to be holy because my trying was the problem.
Holiness isn’t my work for God.
It’s God’s work in me.
When I gave up the hustle and trusted the Spirit, I found what I was chasing the whole time: rest, freedom, and a holiness I could never have achieved on my own.
The Takeaway
The gospel doesn’t say, “Try harder.”
It says, “It is finished.”
That’s why I stopped trying to be holy.
And why, for the first time, I actually started to be.