So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus. 

Romans 6:11

Paul is inviting us to see ourselves differently—through God’s eyes. In Christ, our old, sinful nature has died. That’s not just a behavior change—it’s a change in identity. We no longer belong to sin; we belong entirely to God. 

It reminds us of the leper laws in Leviticus 13–14. A person with leprosy was declared “unclean” and forced to live outside the camp, cut off from others and from the place of worship. But if healing came, a priest would perform a cleansing ritual and pronounce them clean. Only then could they go home again—to community, to worship, to belonging. 

Leprosy is an incurable disease. Healing required a miracle. Imagine how that former leper must have felt every time a rash appeared afterward. “Has it come back? Am I unclean again?” 

That’s such a vivid picture of what Paul is saying. Sin once separated us from God, marking us spiritually “unclean.” But through Jesus’ death and resurrection—the perfect, once-for-all sacrifice—we’ve been made clean. We’re no longer outside the camp. We’ve been brought near, washed, and made alive to God. 

Still, the battle isn’t over. Our old nature sometimes stirs, craving to be fed. Guilt or shame may whisper that we don’t belong, that we’re not really clean. But Romans 6:11 gently reminds us to count ourselves as God does: dead to sin, alive in Christ. 

Just as the healed leper had to walk back into the camp in faith, believing the priest’s declaration, we too must walk in faith—trusting what God says about us. We are not defined by who we once were, or by the sins that used to cling so tightly. We are defined by the new life Jesus has given us. 

Today, you can live not as someone barely forgiven, but as someone completely restored—alive, clean, and deeply accepted by God. 

This week, when old thoughts of guilt or unworthiness creep in, pause and speak this truth over yourself: “I am alive to God in Christ Jesus.” Let that truth shape the way you walk, talk, and think—just like someone stepping confidently back into the camp, knowing they belong.