The heart wants what it wants.

It was the enlightenment thinker David Hume who once wrote that “reason is, and ought to be the slave of the passions”—or maybe Bruce Springsteen said it better when he sang that “everybody’s got a hungry heart.”

HOMO ROMANTICUS—THE HUMAN AS LOVER

We are lovers before we are thinkers. This has been the conclusion of many men (and women) throughout the ages. We love, we desire, we worship. In his celebrated address to Kenyon College, David Foster Wallace told his audience that “everybody worships:”

“And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing …is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things…then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough…Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly….Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful, it’s that they’re unconscious. They are default settings.”

The things we love have the capacity to consume us if we are not careful. Paul seemed to know something about this from his own personal experience. Sure, he admits; the law is unsuitable as a source of salvation, but the law also serves to diagnose the weak spots of my heart:

7 What then shall we say? That the law is sin? By no means! Yet if it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin. For I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, “You shall not covet.”8 But sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, produced in me all kinds of covetousness. For apart from the law, sin lies dead. 9 I was once alive apart from the law, but when the commandment came, sin came alive and I died. 10 The very commandment that promised life proved to be death to me. 11 For sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, deceived me and through it killed me. 12 So the law is holy, and the commandment is holy and righteous and good. (Romans 7:7-12)

Paul says that the law exposes all the places where we have allowed ourselves to love the wrong things—and these are the things that have the capacity to eat us alive.

SIN AS DIS-ORDERED LOVE

This is the true nature of sin. In the fourth century, a man named St. Augustine described the human soul in the language of ordo amoris—literally the “logic of the heart.” The easiest way to understand this is to think of the human heart as a pyramid. You will never flourish, Augustine would say, unless God occupies the apex of that pyramid—meaning He is your supreme source of joy and satisfaction. All our other loves occupy other spaces beneath.

But here’s what sin does: sin seeks to re-order that pyramid so that something else—money, fame, sex, what-have-you—becomes the supreme object of worth. “You are what you love,” says James K. Smith in his latest book.  Rearrange the food pyramid and it’s bad for your body; rearrange the pyramid of your heart and it’s bad for your soul.

LIVING AS BOTH SAINT AND SINNER

Paul admits that even after he began to follow Jesus, his heart was a mess of competing loves:

13 Did that which is good, then, bring death to me? By no means! It was sin, producing death in me through what is good, in order that sin might be shown to be sin, and through the commandment might become sinful beyond measure. 14 For we know that the law is spiritual, but I am of the flesh, sold under sin. 15 For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. 16 Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. 17 So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. 18 For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. 19 For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. 20 Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. (Romans 7:13-20)

Now, for clarity, I should mention that many writers believe that Paul isn’t describing his Christian experience here, but maybe he’s referring to his life before Christ, or to Israel as a whole, or maybe even pointing all the way back to Adam and Eve. But frankly, I think the most natural way to read this is to hear this as a tormented description of what Paul went through as he began to grow in Christ.

And that’s a source of great encouragement. If sin is a form of dis-ordered love, then as we follow Jesus we can expect our heart to be gradually set in order. But this takes time, and until then we will have experiences where we feel at war within ourselves, struggling against desires that we just can’t shake.

Martin Luther would say that we are simul iustus et peccator—“simultaneously righteous and yet still sinners.” We are both sinners and saints. It’s that bizarre double-identity that Paul wrestles with here in this chapter—which is encouraging for all of us who struggle with knowing that the “victorious Christian life” often seems like more a myth than a present reality.

21 So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. 22 For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, 23 but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.24 Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?25 Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin. (Romans 7:21-25)

Ultimately, though, Paul recognizes that the way out of his messed-up heart is the supernatural work of God. There remains a state of competing loves, yes—but Paul places his lasting hope in the redemptive work of Christ. This is why sanctification—that is, the process of becoming transformed into Godly character—doesn’t depend on our efforts any more than our salvation does. Our transformation doesn’t depend on white-knuckled performance, but on God’s grace. What we need is for our hearts to be set in order again; sanctification is nothing more than re-ordered love.

HOPE LEADING TO CHARACTER

In one of Wendell Berry’s novels, two characters discuss the trajectory of their lives and whether they will ever truly learn anything. “It may take a lifetime,” says one friend to the other. “And I’ll tell you something else,” he continues; “it may take longer.”

We are justified for our sinful past. We are being transformed—sanctified—in our struggling present. But one day, we will be glorified in God’s wonderful future.

So today, take heart. You’re not in this alone. You’re in the company of many men and women who, throughout history, have experienced the inner war of competing loves. And this is to say nothing of the God who, by His Spirit, is at work in you to re-order the loves of your heart so that you may grow in the full stature of His Son.

Until that day let us proceed forward not with the white-knuckle grip of our own “sweat equity,” but by allowing our love of the Savior to grow as we ourselves grow closer to Him.

“It’s a hard-knock life for us.”

In the musical Annie, we meet the young orphan who’s early life is spent scrubbing floors and cleaning the windowsills in the confines of Miss Hannigan’s orphanage. But later, she moves from poverty to luxury under the roof of Daddy Warbucks. But when she arrives at her new home, what does she want to do first? Scrub the floors. Wash the windows. Her new “family” has to kindly explain to her that no, she doesn’t have to do all that stuff anymore. Everything’s changed.

I suspect there’s a certain segment of the Church that lives under the demands of “Being-A-Good-Christian.” I’m not talking about the Biblical call to personal character; I’m talking about the way we turn our faith into an endless series of religious projects and moral duties. It starts when we throw our “secular” music in the garbage and listen only to Christian radio. Then these sorts of demands morph into the pressures of sending our kids to private school and buying the right color minivan (complete with Jesus-fish and stick-figure family, mind you) to drive to our small group.

The reason this condition often goes undiagnosed is that the symptoms I’ve listed above can often be good things. But underneath we’re living as though we’re under the thumb of a God like Miss Hannigan—a God who’s always checking to make sure we’re “busy” with the latest activity.

And we’re exhausted.

CHANGED ALLEGIANCE

The gospel is hardly opposed to pouring ourselves out for the sake of Christ and His kingdom. But the gospel is opposed to turning the Christian life into an endless series of religious projects and moral duties.

This is Paul’s point when he contrasts the believer’s changed relationship to the law. Recall that in the early portions of Romans (chapters 1-3), Paul emphasized the way the law revealed God’s character—and the way each of us fall short of it. But now, by being “in Christ,” God treats us as though we have a perfect record of obedience to the law.

Paul compares this changed relationship to a marriage:

Or do you not know, brothers—for I am speaking to those who know the law—that the law is binding on a person only as long as he lives? 2 For a married woman is bound by law to her husband while he lives, but if her husband dies she is released from the law of marriage. 3 Accordingly, she will be called an adulteress if she lives with another man while her husband is alive. But if her husband dies, she is free from that law, and if she marries another man she is not an adulteress. (Romans 7:1-3)

Do you understand what Paul is saying here? He’s saying that if we think of the law as an actual person, then we should see Christ as a changed set of relationships.

Currently I’m engaged. But if, say, I get run over by a bus, Erica is released from her commitment to me and free to marry someone much more handsome, wealthy, and wise. That’s what Paul’s saying; he’s saying that when Jesus died, our commitment to the law changed. Now our commitment is to Jesus.

Why does this matter so much in a conversation about following Jesus? Because many people live as though they’re still bound by obligations to a moral code. Paul is trying to emphasize—in the strongest words possible—that because Jesus has fulfilled the law, there’s nothing left to do. “It’s finished,” Jesus said from the cross; religious moralism won’t get us any further past the finish line than we already are.

THE SOURCE OF SPIRITUAL GROWTH

Of course, Paul doesn’t neglect that this changed relationship won’t be visible through our personal conduct. On the contrary, our allegiances will invariably produce either “fruit for death” or “fruit for God:”

4 Likewise, my brothers, you also have died to the law through the body of Christ, so that you may belong to another, to him who has been raised from the dead, in order that we may bear fruit for God. 5 For while we were living in the flesh, our sinful passions, aroused by the law, were at work in our members to bear fruit for death. 6 But now we are released from the law, having died to that which held us captive, so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit and not in the old way of the written code. (Romans 7:4-6)

I’ve often heard the law compared to a set of train tracks. They tell you where to go; they connect you back to God. But they have no power to move you down the tracks. Only the gospel provides a strong enough engine to move you forward in your spiritual life.

And that’s just it. The gospel promises freedom from your own efforts to “go down the tracks” by your own efforts.  We will grow—yes, even grow in obedience to God’s word—but we must never make the mistake of thinking that this growth comes from anything other than our union with Christ and His righteousness, never our own.

I’ve been deliberately overstating my point in this post; obviously the Christian life is more nuanced than this. But it’s not unusual to meet people who feel lazy—or guilty—for not “doing enough.” Or, in other cases, people who feel guilty for watching TV or listening to U2 when they “should have been” listening to Hillsong. And sure, there may be certain types of programs to filter out, but that’s hardly the point. The point is that if my righteousness does not depend on my hard work, then the gospel frees me from the tyranny of Being-A-Good-Christian.

Christ-follower, if you are spiritually exhausted, it might be that you are still living under Miss Hannigan. But you’re not in the orphanage anymore. The gospel doesn’t condone laziness, but neither does it endorse spiritual work-a-holism. It’s only when we rest in the knowledge of the finished work of Christ that our spiritual growth can truly begin—and only then do we find joy in our walk with God.

So rest easy, dear Christian. The hardest things are not in your hands, but were finished in His hands long, long ago.

When I studied biology, I learned that a “good” parasite never kills its host. No; it keeps them alive, slowly draining their energy over a long period of time, sometimes years.

Sometimes sin is like this. Selfish behavior can go overlooked because, well, “it’s not that bad.” It’s only later that we realize that we’ve spent years feeding our selfish egos and our sinful hearts not all at once, but by degrees over a lifetime of small compromises.

THE DANGER OF “CHEAP GRACE”

Paul continues in his letter by repeating at least some of the themes he’d introduced just a few paragraphs ago:

15 What then? Are we to sin because we are not under law but under grace? By no means! 16 Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness? (Romans 6:15-16)

Right off the bat, Paul emphasizes that there are two and only two ways to live: either as slaves to sin, or slaves to obedience. It’s just like what Bob Dylan wrote: “you gotta serve somebody.” Everybody’s ruled by something.

As Christians it may be tempting to think of your faith in terms of “getting saved” and then “going to Heaven when you die.” That’s all well and good, but it leaves you without purpose in the meantime. For many, faith becomes little more than “fire insurance,” rescuing you from the flames of Hell, but requiring nothing from you in the day-to-day trenches of life.

In the last century, Dietrich Bonhoeffer labeled this way of thinking “cheap grace:”

“Cheap grace means grace as a doctrine, a principle, a system…no contrition is required, still less any real desire to be delivered from sin…Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession.  Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, p 44-45)

Let’s not get confused, here. The alternative to this kind of “cheap grace” isn’t to buckle down and work harder. This only pushes us from the error of self-indulgence into the error of self-righteousness. No, what we need is to re-align our allegiances, to remember that we are members of Christ’s kingdom, and therefore align our lives to His character.

WHICH WAY IS YOUR HEART SLANTED?

Paul develops this further, emphasizing the world of contrast between man’s earthly empires and God’s eternal kingdom:

17 But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed, 18 and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness. 19 I am speaking in human terms, because of your natural limitations. For just as you once presented your members as slaves to impurity and to lawlessness leading to more lawlessness, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness leading to sanctification.

20 For when you were slaves of sin, you were free in regard to righteousness. 21 But what fruit were you getting at that time from the things of which you are now ashamed? For the end of those things is death. 22 But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the fruit you get leads to sanctification and its end, eternal life. 23 For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 6:17-23)

Paul is saying there are two—and only two—outcomes in life: you live as a slave to sin and receive the death you deserve, or you devote yourself to Jesus and receive the life you don’t deserve. And notice—in the case of sin, the consequences are “wages;” in the case of Christ, life is a “gift.” This forms the basis for what Paul is saying. In Christ, we already have what we need—eternal life. What more could there be to focus on? To turn back to sin would be to return to the very things that bring only death. Why would we ever want to go there?

And the answer, practically speaking, is that we don’t. Or at least we convince ourselves that we never do. We think of “sin” in binary terms: you’re either sinning or you’re not, and as long as you stay on the “good” side of the line, you’re golden.

There’s nothing particularly inaccurate about this way of thinking, but perhaps we should think of it with a different word picture. Picture your heart as a set of scales—or better yet, more like a see-saw where weight on one side causes the whole thing to tip in one direction. On one side, we have “love for self.” On the other side of the scale, we have “love for God and neighbor.”

Got it?

Now, which way is your heart slanted?

Apart from Christ, our hearts are inclined only toward “love for self.” But the gospel enables our hearts to tilt away from self and toward “love for God and neighbor.” That’s what repentance is really all about, re-orienting our hearts away from self and toward God.

It’s easy to see how grievous sins could tilt our hearts away from God and back toward self. Stealing, lying, lust—you know the list; these are all obvious ways that we could, once again, become slaves to sin.

But what about our small habits? What about the things we do unconsciously?

• When we screen our calls, or when we interact with people only through text messaging, is it possible that we’re unconsciously tilting our hearts away from love and toward the idolatry of convenience?
• Is it possible that we look to our career for our sense of worth and significance, rather than what God has done for us?
• If you’re a new parent, you may be tempted to roll over when you hear the baby crying at 2AM. Does this not slant your heart away from your marriage and toward your own interests?
• Might your entertainment choices slant your heart further from God and toward the things of this world?

If we view sin this way, we might realize that our hearts are tipping further from God and toward self-interest. On the one hand, that’s part of being human. On the other hand, God sets us free from those idols that our hearts might be re-directed toward Him.

Is your heart slanted toward yourself? We’ve all been there. But even a few small choices today could lead to living in the fullness of the gospel.

“Just be yourself.”

That’s the advice I usually level at my co-worker, Trent Williams, whenever he finds himself in something of a jam. I offer the advice sarcastically—as is my custom—because rarely does this advice ever, you know, work.

So how did this slogan become the mantra of my generation?

THE SIREN SONG OF “AUTHENTICITY”

Culturally speaking, personal identity trumps all forms of social accountability. “You do you,” the popular saying goes—meaning, don’t worry about what anyone else thinks; behave accordingly.

In some settings, this is good advice. Social conformity can often manifest itself negatively as peer pressure. But many in my generation have taken non-conformity to a whole new spiritual level.

For much of contemporary Christianity, the watchword has become authenticity. We’re all broken, after all; we all have doubts. Why not simply be up front about that?

It’s hard to blame anyone for this attitude. Today’s Church still struggles against the old stereotypes of “legalistic” churches that emphasized morals and customs to the exclusion of those with ongoing struggles. So a focus on transparency can actually be a really healthy thing. It’s just that in seeking to kill those sacred cows, we’ve raised up whole herds of new ones.

In other words, if the “Pharisees” of my parents’ generation were focused on self-righteousness, today’s Pharisees are focused on self-discovery. Our deepest thoughts are often tied to the central question of “Who I Really Am.” So from our social media pages to the ink on our arms, we seek to be our truest, most authentic selves.

The Church, after all, isn’t a “museum for saints,” the saying often goes; “it’s a hospital for sinners.” Well, amen to that. It’s just that with all our focus on mutual affirmation, we seem to have forgotten the purpose for going to a hospital in the first place: to get better.

REPENTING OF “WHO I REALLY AM”

This is why Paul shifts gears, here, in what we know as the sixth chapter of his letter to the Romans. He writes:

What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? ² By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it? ³ Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? ⁴ We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. (Romans 6:1-4)

One of the challenges of communicating the grace of God is that it leaves you open to the accusation that your behavior no longer matters. “It doesn’t matter what you do,” some might lament, “because God will forgive you anyway.”

In every real sense this is true. John Ortberg once remarked: “You know what God gives you when you squander His grace? More grace.”

At the same time, Paul points out that to continue living in the slavery to sin and self would be inconsistent with the life of freedom that the gospel brings. So in his opening line, here, he raises the question of whether we can continue in sin so that grace might abound. I wish you could read his response in the original Greek—the English translations of “by no means” or “may it never be” are far too polite. His response is probably more akin to “heck no” or perhaps something even less polite.

For Paul, the death and resurrection of Jesus confers and entirely new identity:

⁵ For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. ⁶ We know that our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin. ⁷ For one who has died has been set free from sin. ⁸ Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. ⁹ We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. ¹⁰ For the death he died he died to sin, once for all, but the life he lives he lives to God. ¹¹ So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus. (Romans 6:5-11)

Over the years many have read quite far into the ritual of baptism—the idea of “going under” and coming up in some way analogous to death and resurrection. This preaches well, but probably stretches Paul’s point a bit far. Paul’s simply saying that by trusting in Christ, we are now identified with Him. Our old selves are done away with; we are now living a whole new life.

This is an assault on the modern notion of “authenticity.” Our truest selves, after all, are dead in sin. As Kevin DeYoung points out, “authentically ‘broken’ is still broken.” You don’t just need healing; you need an overhaul. The gospel re-orients us away from the focus on self and toward the new identity in Jesus.

Some years ago an elderly couple in a nursing home passed away in each other’s arms. But when the first spouse died, the physicians could still detect a heartbeat in her body. How? It was because the surviving spouse held his wife so close that his pulse could be felt in her body. It’s a sad story, but how much more beautiful that Christ, our living hope, has made us alive in Him. It’s the beating of His heart that gives me life when mine only withers and fails.

LIVE LIKE A FREE MAN (OR WOMAN)

Paul will go into further detail on how this new relationship transforms our character. Here, he offers a series of applications of what it looks like to live as free men and women:

¹² Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, to make you obey its passions. ¹³ Do not present your members to sin as instruments for unrighteousness, but present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life, and your members to God as instruments for righteousness. ¹⁴ For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace. (Romans 6:12-14)

This kind of freedom, I wager, won’t come all at once. Nor will total freedom come in this lifetime. But the Christian life isn’t focused on perfection as much as it’s focused on maturity. Here Paul emphasizes that if our greatest treasure is Christ, then we will be gradually set free from our enslaving passions and begin to live out of our greatest love.

What about you? What rules your heart? Is it a desire to be your “truest self,” or a desire to let Christ live through you?

“Am I evil? Yes I am. Am I evil? I am man.”

Sometimes when the rest of the world is silent, the rock stars cry out. The song “Am I evil?” was originally written by the band Diamond Head, though some readers might be more familiar with the later version from Metallica. There’s something to those lyrics, you know. To be man—that is, to be human—is to be evil.

Much as we’d like to insist that we’re born innocent, we’re all born bad. Forget the “better angels of our human nature;” we’re just plain selfish.

PROGNOSIS: NEGATIVE

Christian theology calls this “original sin,” a condition we’ve all inherited from our great, great, great-grandfather, Adam, who bit the fruit and wiped his chin clean—but could never quite erase the stain on his soul. Or ours, for that matter.

Paul writes:

12 Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned—13 for sin indeed was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not counted where there is no law. 14 Yet death reigned from Adam to Moses, even over those whose sinning was not like the transgression of Adam, who was a type of the one who was to come. (Romans 5:12-14)

This seems outrageous. After all, why should I be punished for Adam’s crime? It seems unfair until I recall—like Paul points out—that “all sinned.” The law, Paul observes, served as a measuring stick for human morality: the law served to “diagnose” our sinful state—though it was not enough to cure it.

Chuck Klosterman recently published an entire book about villains, finding these darker characters much more relatable than the usual heroes. Klosterman—who himself was inspired by Metallica’s song—writes that even when he tries to be good, he can’t possibly claim that his intentions are void of self-centeredness:

“If [a stranger] were suddenly in trouble and I had the ability to help, I absolutely would — but I suspect my motive for doing so might not be related to them. I think it would be the result of all the social obligations I’ve been ingrained to accept, or perhaps to protect my own self-identity, or maybe because I’d feel like a coward if I didn’t help a damaged person in public (or maybe because others might see me actively ignoring a person in need). …This realization makes me feel shame . . . yet not so ashamed that I suddenly (and authentically) care about random people on the street. I feel worse about myself, but I feel no differently about them.” (Chuck Klosterman, I Wear the Black Hat)

So as much as we’d like to think ourselves noble, or free from the kinds of religious insecurities foisted upon us by our upbringing, every single one of us is irredeemably selfish—at least so long as we seek redemption by pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps.

THE CURE

Herein lies one of Christianity’s most beautiful and most misunderstood truths: if I am condemned in Adam, that means I did nothing to directly deserve my condemnation. But if I am condemned for what someone else did, can I be saved by what someone else did?

The answer to that question is foundational to the good news of the gospel. Paul writes:

15 But the free gift is not like the trespass. For if many died through one man’s trespass, much more have the grace of God and the free gift by the grace of that one man Jesus Christ abounded for many. 16 And the free gift is not like the result of that one man’s sin. For the judgment following one trespass brought condemnation, but the free gift following many trespasses brought justification. 17 For if, because of one man’s trespass, death reigned through that one man, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man Jesus Christ.

18 Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men. 19 For as by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous. 20 Now the law came in to increase the trespass, but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more, 21 so that, as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness leading to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. (Romans 5:15-21)

Jesus is the true and better Adam. His obedience through the cross reverses the stain we’ve worn since the days of Adam, and restores us to righteous standing in Him.

The gospel literally turns the world upside down. Writing on this reversal, pastor and author Tim Keller writes:

“In the Garden, Adam was told, ‘Obey me about the tree—do not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, or you will die.’… God said to Jesus, ‘Obey me about the tree’—only this time the tree was a cross—‘and you will die’ And Jesus did…What he has enjoyed from all eternity, he has come to offer to you. And sometimes, when you’re in the deepest part of the battle, when you’re tempted and hurt and weak, you’ll hear in the depths of your being the same words Jesus heard: ‘This is my beloved child—you are my beloved child, whom I love; with you I’m well pleased.’ (Timothy Keller, King’s Cross, p. 12-13)

In Adam we find only death. In Christ we find endless life.

Am I evil? Yes I am. But in Christ I am declared a saint.

“You can do it. We can help.”

Home Depot’s former slogan makes a lot of sense when you’re standing in the hardware aisle or comparing shades of paint. It makes no sense if we seek to apply it to our spiritual lives.

I suspect that many of Christ’s followers treat the gospel as a point of entry rather than a lifestyle. The gospel provides us a “get-out-of-Hell-free” card, but after that we’re on our own. In so doing, we downgrade the gospel from “good news” to good advice. Our spiritual lives become a series of religious projects and social causes that punctuate lives otherwise dominated by youth sports and the drone of the workweek. For many Christians, having secured our heavenly destiny, our earthly goals could best be summarized as being “nice” to people and looking to God from time to time. We favor sermons and Christian books that affirm our own “inner wonderfulness” and seem to promise that God is here to help you realize your dreams of being nice to people and living a life as free of trouble as possible. In so doing we’ve come to embrace a gospel built on Home-Depot-theology: “You can do it; He can help.”

“WHILE WE WERE SINNERS…”

New Testament Christianity will have nothing of this. This is, in fact, one of the most prominent themes that Paul emphasizes in his writings—particularly in his letter to the Romans. In Romans 5, he summarizes the gospel this way:

6 For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. 7 For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— 8 but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:6-8)

Our English text does little to expose the true severity of our situation. The word “weak” here could better be translated as “powerless,” meaning that on our own we have no ability, no hope within ourselves.

So even for Paul, this seems utterly backwards. Sure, he admits, people might risk their life for someone who really, really deserves it. But you and I are far from a “good” or “righteous” person. Paul describes us as not only “weak” but also “ungodly” and a group of “sinners.”

That’s what makes the gospel all the more shocking. Jesus chose to give His life in the place of people like you and me. This is a far cry from saying that “you can do it,” and it’s not enough to say that “He can help.” Jesus did more than help. He took our place. He bore our sins, He bore our shame.

Because of this, Paul uses this section of his letter to highlight a series of benefits of knowing Christ.

THE BENEFITS

I often hear from people who tell me that they struggle to find any real benefit in following Jesus in the here and now. In some ways, this is a valid point; the greatest joy comes later when we see Jesus face to face, a point that Paul makes elsewhere in his letters. But this is not to say that the gospel has no immediate implications. On the contrary, we’re tempted to treat the gospel as elementary when we should be treating it as elemental. Pastor and author Tim Keller puts it this way: the gospel is not just the ABC’s of the Christian faith, but the A through Z of the Christian life.

If we pick apart Romans 5:1-11 just a bit, we’ll find that Paul emphasizes at least five benefits of being justified—that is, being “declared righteous:”

(1) Forgiveness (5:1a)

“Therefore, since we have been justified by faith…” (Romans 5:1a)

In every real sense, justification is its own benefit. Our first and primary experience of knowing Jesus is also to know that our sins have been forgiven.

 (2) A new relationship (5:1b-2, 11)

“…we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. 2 Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. .. 11 More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.” (Romans 5:1b-2, 11)

The language here sounds almost like the “peace” after a great war, and that’s not at all far from the truth. In verse 10 Paul declares us “enemies” prior to being brought near to God in a new relationship. Because we are justified and declared righteous, we can have a new relationship with God.

(3) Hope amidst despair (5:3-5a)

“3 Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, 4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, 5 and hope does not put us to shame…” (Romans 5:3-5a)

Paul was well aware that Christ’s followers would continually find themselves at odds with the world. But, he says, we have reason to rejoice. If Christ has defeated sin and death, if we have received God’s approval through the justifying work of the Son, then what have we left to fear? For the Christian, hope replaces fear and despair, and hope will also produce a steadfast character even amidst life’s storms.

(4) The indwelling Holy Spirit (5:5b)

“because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (Romans 5:5b)

The greatest benefit of all is God Himself—namely, the Spirit who is with us always. What greater benefit could there be than to have God with us at all times.

(5) Freedom from condemnation (5:9-10)

“9 Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. 10 For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life.”  (Romans 5:9-10)

Finally, because we have been forgiven and declared righteous, we can be confident that we are totally free of God’s anger toward our sin. It has already been dealt with through the cross. And if God forgives us, if God declares us righteous, then we have no reason to continually beat ourselves up about falling short. Now, Paul will have more to say in regards to growing in Christian character, to be sure, but too often we flee from God fearing we disappoint Him with our habitual sins. Paul tells us that we are saved from His wrath, we are reconciled, we are saved. We don’t need to run from His condemnation; we are privileged to run toward His forgiveness.

ANGELS NEVER GET BORED

In the first of his letters, Peter tells his readers that the prophecies about Jesus and His future glory are “things into which angels long to look” (1 Peter 1:12). Peter, of course, had personally witnessed the fulfillment of the prophecies concerning Christ’s suffering, but Christ’s future glory had yet to take place. The full unfolding of God’s plan was something that captivated the hearts of the angels themselves. So, too, might you and I find ourselves captivated by the good news brought forth through Jesus.

Angels never get bored with the gospel. And neither should we.