The Two Tenants

 •  4 min. read  •  grade level: 7
 
Supposing a landlord has rented his house to a bad tenant, one who drinks, gambles, swears and is a disgrace to the neighborhood and never pays any rent. At last he forgives all the back rent and puts in a new tenant a quiet, respectable, industrious man with authority to keep the bad tenant in custody in one of the rooms. He is never to let him about the house, and above all, never to allow him to open the door.
This is a rough picture of the Christian. His body is the house; his old nature is the bad tenant; his new nature is the good tenant, and God the owner of the property, for our bodies are not our own, but the Lord's. We do not live in our own houses, so to speak, but are merely tenants at will—a solemn and often forgotten truth.
The Comforter—the Holy Spirit
Now there comes a difficulty. The bad tenant is a very strong old man; the new tenant is a weak young man. Though he has full authority, he has no power to carry out the landlord's wishes. He appeals for help and the landlord sends a strong friend from his own house to help him to overcome the old tenant, and to keep him in custody.
This strong friend is the Holy Spirit, "strengthened with might by His Spirit in the inner man" Eph. 3:1616That he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man; (Ephesians 3:16). So we often read of His overcoming the old tenant, rather than of the new tenant's doing so. We must, of course, understand that this friend never interferes unless the new tenant wishes it. See Gal. 5:17, 2517For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would. (Galatians 5:17)
25If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. (Galatians 5:25)
, etc.
The Old Man
Suppose I call with some companions at this house to spend a pleasant evening with my old friend who lives there. I hear there has been some change going on at the house, but I do not exactly know what. The door is opened by the old tenant, but he has a cowed look on his face. When I tell him what I have come for, he says, "Well, of course I should like to ask you in, but I cannot because the new tenant would not like it. You see he is responsible now to the landlord for this house, and he is very strict in having it kept quiet and respectable. I'm only out now because he is asleep, but if there was any noise in the house, he would soon shut me up again." It is clear in this case the same man answers whom I have known all along; the only difference being he has had his rent forgiven and that there is a new tenant in the house of whom he is afraid.
Now, suppose that I call again in a few months to try and induce my old friend to come and spend a jolly evening with me. It is quite dark when I knock at the door, so that I cannot see who opens it, but supposing it is my old friend I say, "Come along to the theater with me.”
“I never go there," is the reply.
“I know that," I say, "for you are afraid now."
"No, I am not afraid. I do not care for it."
"Come, now," I say, "that won't do; I know you like it well enough, but you are afraid of the new
tenant.”
“I am the new tenant," answers the voice.
The New Man
In this case, I do not find the old man with his rent forgiven, but a new man altogether, answering all my questions and declaring he does not care for worldly pleasures at all. Here is quite a new thing, but this is also the true Christian position: that is always to let your new nature answer the front door, never the old.
Supposing now, that I continue calling for some months, and invariably get the same answer. No wonder that I think the old man must be dead, for he never answers the door. So he is, as far as any outward expression of his existence is concerned. The new tenant, however, could tell me of many a desperate attempt the old man makes to break loose from his close confinement, when nothing but the strength of the friend prevents him from being as bad as ever. A.T. Scofield