Romans 8:13 For if you live according to the flesh you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.
Fighting sin is a matter of life and death. Too often we do not take to heart the reality of this concept. The Apostle Paul admonished us to fight sin. In fact he described his battle with the flesh as giving himself a black eye if need be.
1 Corinthians 9:27 But I discipline my body and bring it into subjection, lest, when I have preached to others, I myself should become disqualified.
Job made an agreement with God that he would not allow his eyes to wander.
Job 31:1 “I have made a covenant with my eyes; Why then should I look upon a young woman?
How can you fight the battle of the flesh?
Psalm 119:11 Your word I have hidden in my heart, That I might not sin against You.
The more full you’re your mind is with the Word of God the less room you have for evil thoughts.
We must not give a sexual image or impulse more than five seconds before we mount a violent counterattack with the mind. I mean that! Five seconds. In the first two seconds we shout, "No! Get out of my head!" In the next two seconds we cry out: "O God, in the name of Jesus, help me. Save me now. I am yours."
Good beginning. But then the real battle begins. This is a mind war. The absolute necessity is to get the image and the impulse out of our mind.
Get a counter-image into the mind. Fight. Push. Strike. Don't ease up. It must be an image that is so powerful that the other image cannot survive.
There are lust-destroying images and thoughts.
For example, have you ever in the first five seconds of temptation, demanded of your mind that it look steadfastly at the crucified form of Jesus Christ?
Picture this. You have just seen a peek-a-boo blouse inviting further fantasy. You have five seconds. "No! Get out of my mind! God help me!"
Now, immediately, demand of your mindyou can do this by the Spirit (Romans 8:13). Demand of your mind to fix its gaze on Christ on the cross. Use all your fantasizing power to see his lacerated back. Thirty-nine lashes left little flesh intact. He heaves with his breath up and down against the rough vertical beam of the cross. Each breath puts splinters into the lacerations.
The Lord gasps. From time to time he screams out with intolerable pain. He tries to pull away from the wood and the massive spikes through his wrist rip into the nerve endings and he screams again with agony and pushes up with his feet to give some relief to his wrists. But the bones and nerves in his pierced feet crush against each other with anguish and he screams again.
There is no relief. His throat is raw from screaming and thirst. He loses his breath and thinks he is suffocating, and suddenly his body involuntarily gasps for air and all the injuries unite in pain. In torment, he forgets about the crown of two-inch thorns and throws his head back in desperation, only to hit one of the thorns perpendicular against the cross beam and drive it half an inch into his skull. His voice reaches a soprano pitch of pain and sobs break over his pain-wracked body as every cry brings more and more pain.
Now, I am not thinking about the blouse any more. I am at Calvary.