A Brand New Me

1) When Creativity Comes Back

A painter once lost his entire studio to fire. When the smoke cleared, only one painting survived—charred, blackened, half-destroyed. Friends urged him to throw it away. But instead, he set it back on the easel, mixed new colors, and began painting the flames right into the picture. The scars became the light source. When he finished, he signed it with a new title: Redemption.

That’s what grace does. God doesn’t hide the burn marks of our story—He turns them into illumination. The very places we thought were ruined become the places that shine.

And that’s where our text begins: “For sin shall not have dominion over you, for ye are not under the law, but under grace.”

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2) The Beauty of Flawed People

Charles Schulz, the creator of Peanuts, spent fifty years drawing imperfect kids—Charlie Brown, Lucy, Linus, Snoopy. They fail, fuss, and keep trying. And somehow, you can feel the love in every line.

I think God delights in us that way—He knows our foibles and still smiles, still loves, still writes us into the next scene. He doesn’t deny our flaws; He redeems them. Grace means He keeps painting light into the burn marks.

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3) Sin That Destroys and a Law That Can’t Heal

A friend I hadn't seen for years came up to me and we hugged and sat down to catch up. It had been a long time and we had a lot to catch up.

He said, “Pastor, I know you’ll tell me God forgives—but I’m about to lose my wife and little boy. I have an addiction. I've been running to Las Vegas a lot and it's ruining us.”

I tried to hand him “willpower.” It went nowhere. I left knowing my advice had not helped.

The wrong we do is not theoretical; it breaks things that matter. So where do we begin?

Romans 6:14 (KJV): “For sin shall not have dominion over you: for ye are not under the law, but under grace.”

Our first reflex when we see wrong in ourselves is to make rules. “I ate six Little Debbie Swiss Rolls—thou shalt not eat Little Debbie Swiss Rolls.” Rules inform; they cannot transform. A stop sign can tell you to stop; it cannot make your foot obey. The law can reveal danger; it cannot deliver power.

Paul says you won’t escape sin’s dominion by moving deeper under law, but by stepping fully under grace.

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4) Powerful Movie, Bad Theology

Think of Saving Private Ryan. As Captain Miller (Tom Hanks) dies, he whispers to Ryan, “Earn this.” The older Ryan later stands at the grave, pleading that his life has been worthy. It makes riveting cinema—and a crushing religion.

We sometimes preach like that. “Don’t disappoint Jesus.” We turn Christ into a new lawgiver rather than a Savior of grace. But the gospel does not say “Earn this.” It says “Receive this.” It does not demand repayment; it births responsiveness.

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5) Responsiveness, Not Responsibility

Off the Farallon Islands near the Golden Gate, rescuers found a whale ensnared in ropes and heavy crab cages. Divers risked their lives to cut the lines. When the final rope snapped free, the whale swam two great loops, returned, and gently nudged each diver—as if to say thanks.

That is grace’s alchemy. Grace frees; gratitude returns. Responsibility alone produces gritted teeth; responsiveness produces changed hearts. The only sins I have ever truly overcome are the ones I already believed were forgiven.

Guilt may frighten us for a weekend; grace transforms us for a lifetime.

Romans 7:7–9, 12 (KJV):

“I had not known sin, but by the law… But sin, taking occasion by the commandment, wrought in me all manner of concupiscence… For without the law sin was dead… Wherefore the law is holy, and the commandment holy, and just, and good.”

The law is holy—but powerless to heal. It’s the sign above the hospital bed, not the surgery that repairs the heart. Grace is the surgery.

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6) Reckon Yourself New

So what does change us? Paul gives a second principle:

Romans 6:11 (KJV): “Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

Reckon. Do something with your mind. Reimagine yourself in Christ. Not merely “I must die to sin,” but “I have died with Christ, and I am alive unto God.”

This is not denial; it is a new identity rooted in the cross and resurrection. The Spirit tutors your imagination until your heart believes what Jesus has accomplished.

A young woman once came to me in tears. “I can’t marry him,” she said. “Years ago I lived recklessly. I’m scarred.”

I said, “Those aren’t scars; they’re wounds—and wounds heal. You are not that old story. You have died with Christ and risen to a new life. Walk into your wedding as the woman grace is making you.”