Two Natures: Yesterday, I received a church bulletin from England, passed along to me by a brother, which included a quotation by Don Fortner on the subject of the believer’s two natures. That brief excerpt stirred thoughts I’ve never fully settled in my own mind. I’ve commented on a few of his thoughts in the past, sometimes critically, largely because his thoughts continue to be scattered abroad through bulletins to this day. To his credit, Don was always deliberate in defining his terms and forthright about his convictions. However one may differ, that kind of clarity reflects an honest concern to speak of Christ without concealment, rather than sheltering behind undefined theology.
Here is the quotation: “Believers are men and women with two distinct, separate, warring natures: the flesh and the spirit. When God saves a sinner he does not renovate, repair, and renew the old nature. He creates a new nature in his elect. Our old, Adamic, fallen, sinful nature is not changed. The flesh is subdued by the spirit; but it will never surrender to the spirit. The spirit wars against the flesh; but it will never conquer or improve the flesh. The flesh is sinful. The flesh is cursed. Thank God, the flesh must die! But it will never be improved. This dual nature of the believer is plainly taught in the Word of God. Carefully study Romans 7, Galatians 5, and I John 3. It is utterly impossible to honestly interpret those portions of Holy Scripture without concluding that both Paul and John teach that there is within every believer, so long as he lives in this world, both an old Adamic nature that can do nothing but sin and a new righteous nature, that which is born of God, that cannot sin, that can only do righteousness. The Holy Spirit’s work in sanctification is not the improvement of our old nature, but the maturing of the new, steadily causing the believer to grow in the grace and knowledge of Christ and bring forth fruit unto God. Every believer knows the duality of his nature by painful, bitterly painful experience.” Don Fortner.
At first glance, this distinction carries great experiential weight, for it gives language to the very real struggle every believer knows. It is also the framework most of us have inherited, and I say that without criticism. For that reason, I want to be clear that I am not seeking to correct others, but simply to voice some thoughts I’ve found myself returning to. As I’ve reflected on this explanation, I’ve begun to wonder whether it extends further than Scripture itself intends. Though the Bible certainly speaks of conflict, warfare, and the presence of sin, it does not always do so by describing two separate moral natures residing within the believer. In some passages, the language seems to pull us in a different direction altogether.
Over the years as I’ve continued to think about these things, I’ve found myself wondering whether there may be another way to speak about this struggle, one that avoids describing the believer as inwardly divided, as though made up of two separate selves locked in constant trench warfare. Scripture itself never says that a believer is two beings living in one body. Instead, Paul speaks in the personal language of a single subject: “I” sin, Romans 7:20, “I” delight in the law of God, Romans 7:22, and “I” do what I hate. Romans 7:15. He does not say that one nature sins while another obeys. He says, I do both, and I hate the contradiction. Rather than relocating sin into a separate internal compartment, Paul owns the conflict personally, while refusing to locate righteousness anywhere but in Christ.
When Scripture speaks most broadly about humanity, it does not do so in the language of two natures residing within the same person, but in terms of two men standing over all men: Adam and Christ. Adam is not merely a “nature,” but a representative head, through whom sin, condemnation, and death entered the world. Romans 5:12-19. Christ, likewise, is not a nature we possess, but the last Adam, through whom righteousness, life, and resurrection are given. I Corinthians 15:45. The Bible consistently frames human identity and destiny in these terms: in Adam or in Christ. As Paul writes, “The first man is of the earth, earthy; the second man is the Lord from heaven.” I Corinthians 15:47. Scripture never says that the believer contains both of these men at once. Rather, it speaks in clear relational terms, we were in Adam, and we are now in Christ. Yet even while our standing has been decisively changed, we still live in mortal bodies that belong to the old order. This distinction is crucial, for it preserves the way Scripture speaks about remaining weakness and conflict without dividing the believer into two competing selves or locating life anywhere other than in Christ Himself.
Closely related to this is how Scripture itself speaks of the “flesh.” In Paul’s usage, the term does not refer to a second nature within the believer, but to mortal life marked by weakness, corruption, and death. “Flesh” names what belongs to the old order, life marked by frailty and decay, not a surviving moral agent that must be endlessly battled or gradually improved. This is why Paul can say without qualification that “flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.” I Corinthians 15:50. The flesh is not reformed, disciplined, or matured into something better; it is put off, put to death, and ultimately abolished. The believer’s hope, therefore, is not the conquest of the flesh by an inner nature, but deliverance from mortality itself through resurrection. Romans 8:23. In this way, Scripture addresses present weakness and conflict while directing the eye forward to their final end, not in the reconciliation of rival claims within us, but in Christ, who swallows up death in life. II Corinthians 5:4.
Romans 7 is often taken to mean that the believer has two natures fighting it out inside. But Paul seems to be talking about something else. He’s describing what happens when the law meets a man still living in a body marked by death. The law exposes sin and shows its power. Sin isn’t another self; it’s what the commandment brings into the open. Paul puts it simply, “when the commandment came, sin revived, and I died.” Romans 7:9. So the question isn’t how to manage two sides of ourselves, but how to be delivered from death itself. And that’s exactly what Paul asks, “who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” So, in my thoughts, Romans 7 is not about two natures at all, but about life under law in the flesh.
It is at this point that certain ways of speaking often enter in, as attempts to make sense of that struggle. Language such as “part of me is sinless, part of me sins” may seem helpful, but it often divides the believer inwardly. Righteousness is assigned to one part, sin to another, as though the self could be neatly partitioned. When framed this way, the language of two natures can begin to resemble a kind of spiritual Jekyll and Hyde, one part righteous and commendable, the other corrupt and blameworthy. That may not be the intention, but it is often the effect. Scripture does not speak this way. Paul does not alternate between identities, excusing failure as the work of one self and claiming obedience for another; he speaks as one man, exposed, conflicted, and in need, and directs the whole man to Christ alone.
Additionally, we are told that “the Holy Spirit’s work in sanctification is not the improvement of our old nature, but the maturing of the new.” While this may sound like a necessary clarification, it nevertheless redirects the believer’s focus inward, toward the development of something within himself. Yet when Paul reaches the height of his struggle in Romans 7, his answer is not found in sanctification mechanics at all. He does not say, “I see now that my new nature must mature,” but rather, “I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Likewise, Peter does not exhort believers to cultivate a nature, but to “grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.” II Peter 3:18. What Scripture presents here, whatever term we choose to use to describe it, is not the development of an internal principle, but an increasing orientation of life toward Christ as He is known, trusted, and lived upon. Galatians 2:20.
The way we speak about these things matters. Language shapes where a believer instinctively looks when conflict arises. Words that turn the focus inward, even with good intentions, can teach the heart to look within for help. Scripture directs us elsewhere. Its language draws the eye outward, away from inner mechanisms and toward Christ Himself, where life, righteousness, and hope are found. By speaking this way, Scripture keeps faith simple and keeps the believer resting where God has placed life. “And this is the record, that God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son.” I John 5:11.
This is not to suggest that those who hold this view are intentionally seeking righteousness within themselves. Many are deeply concerned to safeguard the sufficiency of Christ. Still, the way these things are spoken of can have unintended effects. When righteousness is associated with an inward “new man,” and sin is attributed to a separate internal principle, the believer may begin, almost unconsciously, to assess spiritual standing by inward measurements. Scripture avoids this entirely. Paul owns his sin personally yet refuses to locate righteousness anywhere but in Christ. In this way, the gospel neither builds the believer up in himself nor pulls him apart inwardly but leaves him resting entirely upon Christ. II Corinthians 5:21.
In the end, this is not a call to replace one system with another, but a recognition of how Scripture keeps Christ at the center of both our language and our hope. The believer’s struggle is real, his weakness undeniable, and his sin not to be excused or disguised. Yet Scripture does not leave him divided, nor does it send him searching within himself for resolution. It directs him, again and again, to Christ, who is his life now, and his deliverance yet to come. There, and only there, the believer finds rest. Colossians 3:4.
Before closing, I want to be clear about my spirit in writing this. I know that some of my closest friends in Christ hold firmly to the view I’ve been examining, and I hold them in sincere affection and respect. The strength of my language reflects my present disposition on these questions, not a claim to having resolved them beyond all doubt. Over the years, I’ve found myself wavering back and forth, and these thoughts simply reflect where I currently stand. No harshness is intended, and no judgment is being passed. My hope has been to think carefully, speak plainly, and ultimately to leave both reader and writer looking to Christ rather than resting in any settled scheme of words. MPJ