ROMANS: the Struggle

And now we come to one of those famous passages we often use to explain some of those assumptions we’ve been questioning throughout this series. Many will go to this passage — the “struggle with sin” Paul describes in Romans 7 — and use it to argue against some of my suggestions about the essence of mankind and our “sinful nature.” But before we jump to too many conclusions, let’s take this passage chunk by chunk and see what we hear from Paul.

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.”

We pick up in this passage with Paul talking about one of the nagging questions we’ve been dealing with in the New Testament. Isn’t Paul arguing that the Law of Moses has died, and that we have thrown it out into the refuse pile and exchanged it for a better truth? I have been arguing adamantly for a more historically appropriate understanding of the “works of the Law” or the miqsat ma’asay haTorah. And here is one place where we see Paul communicating the same concept he’s talked about in the book of Galatians and earlier in Romans. The Law is not problematic; the Law is not done away with. On the contrary, without the Law, we would never have been able to learn and appreciate an understanding of righteousness and sin — the way of life and the way of death. It is the Law which gave God’s people a place to begin the conversation of what it means to partner with God.

But sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, produced in me all kinds of covetousness. For apart from the law, sin lies dead. I was once alive apart from the law, but when the commandment came, sin came alive and I died. The very commandment that promised life proved to be death to me. For sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, deceived me and through it killed me. So the law is holy, and the commandment is holy and righteous and good.

However, once this knowledge is possessed by the student of Torah, there is this “beast-nature” in him (that we learned about in Genesis 2–3). This part of Paul (and all of us) goes to work and begins to tempt the follower of God toward the trespass. Paul reiterates this is not the fault of the Law, for the commandment itself is holy and good. It is the part of us that needs to be mastered which begins to rear up and kick in rebellion.

But someone might say that even though the Law was good, it still brought about the sin we struggle with, so God never should have given it in the first place! Paul has anticipated our thoughts once again:

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. For we know that the law is spiritual, but I am of the flesh, sold under sin.

Paul very clearly says it is not the Law and the knowledge of the Law that is the problem. It is an intruder that does not belong in us. It is the sin in us (something Paul will reiterate in just a moment). Please notice the way Paul talks about “sin.” It is in us and doing a work in us, but it is an intruder — it is not the truest true of who we are.

Paul says the Law is “of the spirit” — it is good and holy — but we are “of the flesh.” This is not some form of Gnostic dualism (something the whole book of Colossians will speak against), but a reference to two different natures that are in a struggle. While the Law is of God, we are “sold under sin” and find ourselves subject to the “flesh” (some translations will read “carnal”). The word being used in many of these conversations in the New Testament comes from the Greek root word sarx.

Sarx is a word that refers to our “beast-like nature” or our “animal appetites.” Many translations will often render the word as “sinful nature,” which is not at all what the word is trying to communicate — at least not as we understand the idea. Our “sinful nature” is not the result of original sin or the state of our depravity. Simply translated, the sarx is the animal appetites we were told about all the way back in the beginning of the story. In Genesis, we talked about what it meant to be made in the “image of God” and how the rabbis spoke of the fact that we are more than animals. What makes us different from the beasts is our ability to “know when to say enough.” Adam was warned, Eve was warned, and Cain was directly told that his task would be to master this part of himself — what we would later call in Greek, the sarx.

Listen to Paul describe this very battle:

For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. 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. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.

As we listen to Paul, notice that his words do not describe what we teach in the theology of depravity or original sin. Paul says he does not do what he wants to do, but he does the very thing he hates. If Paul is depraved or full of original sin, then he should NOT want to do those things. But in fact, he does. Why? Because that is his true self. He will go on to say, “if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.”

Sin is the intruder, the part of us that is not true to who we really are. We are children of God, made in His image; we are so much more than mere beasts. And we are more than just tainted pieces of filth totally given to our selfishness and sinfulness. The sin is in us, but it is not us.

And yet, the battle is so very real! This is what it means to be human, to be running after God and letting Him teach us what it means to be fully human, full image-bearers, able to join God in His redemptive work by choosing when to say enough.

So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, 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. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? 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.

And so again, we find Paul is not teaching some form of dualism — as if he longs to be rescued from his physical body. Again, he speaks of his sarx. He longs to be rescued from the struggle within his whole self. He serves God with his mind and will, but his “beast-nature” is still at work within him, serving the law of sin. But Paul rejoices that the life and death of Jesus has shown him a better way.

For it is not through a standard of morality or a system of rules that we will ever experience freedom from the struggle Paul describes, a struggle you and I know all too well. No, it is only through trusting in the promises of God, following in the example of the Christ, and displaying the faith of Jesus that we find a unique kind of victory and freedom — a life where this ongoing struggle does not lead to condemnation.

Wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t it be great if this struggle with our sarx didn’t always end with our own guilt and shame and the weight of the cry of rescue from our wretched selves? We pick up with this very hope in Romans 8.