Dock Resource Kit
Sunday sermon, 29 June 2025
Summary
In this week’s Romans Revisited talk, Phil tackles one of the most honest and personal questions we all wrestle with: What’s wrong with me? Drawing on Romans 7, this message explores the inner conflict between our desire to do good and our tendency to fall short — a tension even the Apostle Paul felt. Phil unpacks the doctrine of original sin, not to shame or discourage, but to help us name our need for grace. Paul’s raw cry for rescue becomes our own, and his answer points us to Jesus — the one who meets us in the mess and sets us free. Far from being hopeless, this doctrine sets the stage for the gospel: we are more broken than we think, but more loved than we could ever imagine.
Key Points & Takeways
The struggle is real — and biblical.
Even Paul wrestled with the tension between his intentions and actions. You’re not a fraud if you feel that conflict — you’re in good company.Sin is more than actions — it’s a condition.
The Church calls this original sin: the deep distortion within us that bends our hearts away from God. It's not just what we do — it's what we’ve inherited.We need more than behaviour change — we need heart surgery.
Paul’s diagnosis in Romans 7 points to a deeper need — and a greater healer.This doctrine isn’t just theological — it’s pastoral.
Original sin helps us understand ourselves and others, and points us to grace, not guilt.Jesus is the only one who can rescue us.
Not self-help. Not trying harder. Only Christ can break the chain and restore the heart.God’s mercy is deeper than our mess.
We are more broken than we realise — but more loved than we ever imagined. And in Christ, there is no condemnation.
Dock Discussion Questions
“Why do I do what I hate?”
Have you ever experienced that inner conflict Paul describes in Romans 7? How do you usually respond when you notice that tension in yourself
Struggle doesn’t mean failure — it means the Spirit is at work.
How does this idea shift your perspective on your spiritual life or areas where you feel stuck?
We don’t just need to do better — we need to be made new.
What does that kind of transformation look like practically? How have you seen the Spirit at work in your own life or in someone else?
“There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
How do you live in the freedom of that promise — especially when you still feel the weight of sin or failure?
Long-form, editted transcript
Romans Revisited.
Why I Do What I Hate: Original Sin and the Conflict Within
We’re right in the middle of our Romans Revisited series — exploring some of the weightier and more thought-provoking themes in Paul’s letter to the early church in Rome.
So far in this series, we’ve laid a theological foundation — and we’ve taken on some of the big moral and cultural questions that shape life and faith today — around sexuality, marriage, women in leadership, power and politics, and what it means to live as faithful followers of Jesus here in East London in 2025.
Now, at the halfway point in the series, we’re shifting gears slightly — moving from the moral and cultural implications of Christian doctrine to some of the deeper theological roots that underpin it all, and shape how we understand God, ourselves, and his relationship with us.
Today, we’re getting into one of the most personal and profound: the nature of sin — specifically the doctrine of original sin — and how it affects our lives and our relationship with God.
Next week, we’ll look at how Jesus deals with sin and evil through his death on the cross — diving into atonement theory and the difficult but vital theme of the wrath of God.
And the week after, we’ll wrestle with one of the most debated doctrines in Christian history: predestination and the sovereignty of God.
So I hope you’re ready for a bit of a wild theological ride.
But today, we start with something every one of us feels — whether we can name it or not: That inner conflict between who we want to be, and who we actually are.
Let’s hear the Apostle Paul’s own words from Romans 7:14–25…
14 We know that the law is spiritual; but I am unspiritual, sold as a slave to sin. 15 I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. 16 And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. 17 As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. 18 For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. 19 For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. 20 Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.
21 So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. 22 For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; 23 but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. 24 What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? 25 Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!
So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in my sinful nature a slave to the law of sin.
This is the word of the Lord.
Now I know — this could feel like a heavy topic today. So just so you know where we’re heading, my plan is to walk us through five big questions that shape or come out of this passage — What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with us? Is that fair? Who will rescue me? And how do we keep going?
What’s Wrong With Me?
Have you ever found yourself asking that? Have you ever found yourself saying, “why did I do that?” You knew it was wrong. You even told yourself not to do it. And then… you did it anyway.
Or maybe the opposite — you wanted to do something good. You had every intention. But the moment passed, and you didn’t. And afterwards you’re left thinking, “what’s wrong with me?”
If that rings a bell — welcome. You’re not alone. In fact, you’re in very good company. The Apostle Paul knew exactly what that was like. And he talks about it — openly, vulnerably — in the passage we’ve just read.
His inner struggle. That sense, in all of us, that we’re not who we want to be. That gap between our intentions and our actions.
Paul puts it like this: “For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do — this I keep on doing… What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:19, 24)
You can hear the frustration. And for many of us, that frustration is deeply familiar.
Maybe it’s the anger that flares up again. The apology you still haven’t made. The drink you said would be your last. The uncontrollable scrolling that becomes numbing. The words you regret before they’re even finished leaving your mouth.
Whatever it is, I want us to see this morning that this passage is actually incredibly encouraging — because first of all, it tells us that struggle doesn’t mean failure. Struggle just means you’re alive.
We sometimes assume that being a Christian should mean everything gets easier. That we should be above this kind of thing. That if we’re still struggling, we must be doing it wrong.
But the truth is: The Christian life isn’t the end of the struggle — it’s often the beginning of the real one. It’s when the Spirit wakes us up to what’s good — that’s when we begin to see what God wants, and start to feel just how hard it can be.
So if you feel that conflict inside — you’re not alone. You’re not a fraud. You’re in the same place Paul once stood. Where all of us stand.
What’s Wrong With Us?
So, what’s wrong with us? Why is it that even when we know what’s good — and even want to do what’s right — we still stumble, snap, and scroll?
One of the gifts of Romans 7 is that it not only validates the struggle — it also gives us language to make sense of it.
Paul describes: “I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out… I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind.” (Thats verses 18 and 23)
And that’s strong language — waging war.
This isn’t just a few bad habits Paul’s trying to shake off. He’s describing a deep, internal conflict — one that even someone as Christ-centred and Spirit-filled as Paul still feels.
And remember — by this point, Paul has been following Jesus for years. He’s been on multiple missionary journeys. He’s planted churches across the Roman Empire — Corinth, Philippi, Thessalonica. He’s raised up and released countless men and women into leadership. He’s written huge chunks of what we now call the New Testament, endured suffering, performed miracles.
And still — Paul says: “What I want to do — I don’t do. What I hate — I keep doing.”
So, again, if you’ve ever thought, “Surely I should have grown out of this by now…” — just remember: you’re not the only one.
This isn’t just a Paul problem. It’s not just a you problem. It’s a human problem.
This is what the Church has long called the condition of sin — not just the things we do, but the distortion within us that makes those things so likely.
And this is the crux of what we’re talking about today: This isn’t just about guilt. It’s about truth. It’s not just about what we’ve done — it’s about what we’ve inherited. Because the heart of the human problem is the problem of the human heart.
Our biggest issue isn’t just out there — it’s in here. Not just in the world, or in society, or in culture — but in me. In my desires, my will, my weakness. And this is what we need to wrestle with. Because what Paul is describing in Romans 7 isn’t just the struggle to be a better person. It’s the recognition that something in us is not as it should be.
What we need isn’t just behaviour management. It’s heart surgery.
And that’s exactly what God promised through the prophet Ezekiel — ‘I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you… I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.’
So again — what’s wrong with us?
We don’t just need to do better. We need to be made new — not through self-improvement, but through a deep, Spirit-led renewal from the inside out.
And again — this is all of us. No one is immune.
And across centuries and traditions, the Church has named this reality as the doctrine of original sin.
That might feel a bit heavy — or even slightly suspect — like something from a dusty textbook, or a gloomy street preacher. But actually, it’s something deeply pastoral. Because it helps explain something we all experience.
Original sin doesn’t mean we’re all as bad as we could possibly be. It means that something deep within us — a distortion, a brokenness — affects every part of who we are. We’re not born neutral. As Augustine said, we’re born curved in on ourselves — self-centred, not God-centred.
It’s not just that we occasionally do the wrong thing. It’s that the game feels rigged — so that even when we try to do the right thing, we often mess it up. We’re driven by mixed motives. We want control. We resist grace. We hide. We self-justify.
It’s not just that we sin — it’s that we are sinners.
And the Church has taught this for centuries — not to condemn, but to tell the truth about our nature. This idea isn’t fringe — it’s right there in our Anglican foundations. Anyone heard of the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion?
Well, Article 9 puts it like this: “Original Sin… is the fault and corruption of the nature of every man, whereby man is very far gone from original righteousness…”
So not just a bad day. Not just a few poor decisions. But — “very far gone.” Which, if I’m honest, does feel about right some days!
And notice the contrast: original sin versus original righteousness. There was a time when human nature was rightly ordered — when our desires aligned with God’s will, our hearts were clean, and our minds were clear.
That’s what theologians have called original righteousness — the unfallen state of humanity we see in Genesis 1 and 2, before Adam and Eve were deceived in the garden and chose to turn away from God’s will. That moment introduced sin and self-centredness into the world.
And now — because of that — Paul says something fundamental has shifted. What was created good and whole is now bent and fractured. We’re born into a state of deception, with hearts naturally inclined to resist God’s will. This is the war inside us. Not just out there in the world, but in here, in me.
Yes — it’s a serious diagnosis. And it sets the stage for the most incredible cure. The point of original sin isn’t to beat us up. It’s to lift our eyes to the only one who can save us.
Which lead us to the question that echos out from Paul in verse 24:
“Who will rescue me?”
“Who will rescue me from this body of death?”
This is a grim image, we discussed in our previous series on Romans — some say Paul might be alluding to a Roman punishment where a murderer was chained to the corpse of their victim. Whether or not Paul had this in mind, it’s a vivid picture of what sin does: it traps us, it clings, it spreads, it poisons.
And Paul’s saying — that’s what it feels like to live with sin inside you. That’s the weight we carry. The battle we can’t win on our own.
But Paul doesn’t end there. He cries out — “Who will rescue me?” And then he answers in the very next breath: “Thanks be to God — through Jesus Christ our Lord!” Because the gospel is not: You’re too far gone. It’s not: Try harder. It’s: You can’t rescue yourself — but someone else can.
Only Jesus can cut the chain. Only Jesus can break the curse. Only Jesus can deal with the heart of the human problem.
And it’s this understanding — of our need and his grace — that not only explains the gospel, but shapes how we relate to God and how we receive the mercy he so freely offers.
Is That Really Fair?
But, is all this really fair? Before we move on, I wanted to take a moment to quickly name some of the questions that might be swirling in your mind — or that have definitely come up in conversations I’ve had over the years.
Objection 1.
“Isn’t this all a bit unfair? Why should I suffer for what Adam did?”
Great question — and yes, it might feel unfair.
But the crucial thing to remember is that the Church doesn’t teach that you’re judged for Adam’s specific sin. You’re not being held accountable for something that happened in a garden thousands of years ago.
What we do say is that something broke back then — something in human nature — and that’s what we’ve all inherited.
It’s like a hereditary disease. You didn’t choose it. You didn’t cause it. But it still affects you. And without help — without healing — it will shape your whole life.
So yes, it may not feel fair. But the good news is the cure has already come. His name is Jesus. And the healing he offers is free — for anyone who wants it.
Objection 2.
“But aren’t people basically good?”
Another great question.
And we need to be clear — the Bible doesn’t say people are worthless or evil to the core. What it does say is that we are made in the image of God. That’s our origin. That’s our design. That’s where the story always begins.
But that image — the reflection of God in us — has been fractured. Not erased. Not destroyed. But damaged by sin.
So yes — there’s beauty, creativity, and compassion in every person.
But there’s also pride, selfishness, fear — it’s just there. And if we’re honest, we can all see that. Not just in others, but in ourselves.
But again, this isn’t about beating ourselves up. It’s about telling the truth — and then listening for the voice of grace.
Because rather than saying, “Everyone’s good really,” Scripture says, “Everyone’s loved, really — and everyone really needs grace.”
Jesus doesn’t flatter — but he does rescue.
Objection 3.
…and this is a tender one, but it’s an issue. People ask: “What about babies? What if a child dies before baptism?”
And for some of us, this isn’t theological — it’s personal. And it’s really sacred ground. So I want to say as carefully as I can: Yes — the Church teaches that all are born in sin. But it also affirms — and always has — that God is just, and God is merciful.
The Church of England’s official pastoral guidance says it like this: “The Church affirms the mercy and love of God for all who die, including children who die before baptism, and commits them to God's gracious keeping.”
We baptise because Jesus told us to — and because it points us to grace. But baptism is not a condition of God’s mercy. It’s a sign of it.
I find it helpful to remember the thief on the cross next to Jesus. He didn’t get down off the cross for an emergency baptism, he simply turned to Jesus and said, “Remember me.” And Jesus replied, “Today you will be with me in paradise.”
We baptise, yes — and that’s important — but even more, we trust in the God who is always more merciful than we can imagine. Not because we understand everything, but because we know Him — and He is good.
His mercy holds every life. Mercy that runs deeper than death and beyond all understanding.
Objection 4.
“What about free will, if have no choice but to sin?”
Well, now we’re getting deep in the theological weeds. And yes — this is one of those big questions that Christians have wrestled with for centuries. Augustine, Aquinas, Luther, Calvin, Wesley — they all had a go. (And spoiler: they didn’t all agree.)
Let me just say this for today: original sin doesn’t eliminate free will — it distorts it. Our wills are still real. We’re still moral agents. But our desires have been disordered. Our freedom hasn’t been destroyed — but it’s been compromised.
We can still choose. But we don’t always want what is good, or even do what we want. We long for meaning, but settle for comfort. We chase love, but often in damaging ways. We seek freedom, but often end up in chains of our own making.
But the good news, as Augustine put it is: “Grace does not destroy the will — it heals it.”
So yes — sin has wounded our freedom. But grace restores it.
And if that still feels a bit woolly — don’t worry. We’re going to come back to this in a couple of weeks, when we look at predestination and the sovereignty of God. So if you're keen to open that particular theological can of worms — hold that thought. We’ll get there.
Who Will Rescue Me?
Where does all of this leave us today — if we’re born with a nature that’s broken? If even Paul says, “I don’t do the good I want to do”?
It brings us back to this question: who will rescue me?
Romans 7 is brutally honest — but it’s not hopeless. It’s building towards something. Paul cries out — “Who will rescue me from this body of death?” And in the same breath, he declares — “Thanks be to God — through Jesus Christ our Lord!”
That’s the shift. Struggle doesn’t mean failure. It means the Spirit is at work.
And if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t feel the tension. If you weren’t being changed, you wouldn’t notice the gap. So the fact that you long to do good — and grieve when you don’t — that’s not a sign of failure. That’s evidence of grace.
If you find yourself frustrated that your life isn’t what you hoped it would be — You are not disqualified. You are not a fraud. You are not alone.
You’re exactly the kind of person Paul is describing. And exactly the kind of person Jesus came to rescue — to fill with his Spirit, and to use to reflect his love and build his Church.
And that’s not just good news for us — it’s good news for our friends, our neighbours, our children. This isn’t just personal — it’s missional.
That’s why at SPS we’re serious about sharing this hope — through evangelism, youth work, discipleship, and spiritual formation — so more lives can be renewed by the mercy of God.
How Do We Keep Going?
So, how do we keep going?
We keep coming back to Jesus — with the mess, the gaps, the grief. In prayer, in worship, in confession, in community.
We let the Spirit do his work — slowly, steadily, from the inside out. In us, and through us. And when we fail — which we will — we come back to the cross. Not for shame, but for mercy. Every time.
Because Romans 7 is not the end of the story. The very next line — Romans 8, verse 1 — says: “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” And praise God — that’s where we can land today.
Because the doctrine of original sin isn’t a message of despair — it’s good news. It leads us to the cross. It sets the scene for grace, for hope, and for the unmeasurable love of God.
The invitation today is: not to try harder.
Not to hide the struggle.
Not to pretend you’re stronger than you are.
But to trust the mercy of God.
Jesus came for people like you and me.
People who feel the conflict.
People who cry out, “What’s wrong with me?”
People who are painfully aware of their weakness — and desperately in need of grace.
So bring him the whole mess.
Bring him your contradictions.
Bring him your fear, your habits, your hidden shame.
Bring him the places you still don’t understand.
You might be more broken than you think — but you are more loved than you could ever imagine.
Let’s hold on to those words that Romans 7 builds towards: “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
Closing Prayer
Jesus, thank you.
That’s the hope we stand on.
Even in the middle of the struggle.
No condemnation.
Just mercy.
Grace upon grace.
Your Spirit at work — even now.