ROMANS: Therefore

Paul has spent the last eleven chapters of Romans arguing for unity in this blended family struggling with the full and free inclusion of the Gentiles. He opened with a theological treatise which explained that all of humanity struggles with the same essential condition. The good news (pun intended) is that this means it is the same faith that justifies us all. If we are all justified, by the same faith and the same gift of grace, then there is no reason for division or exclusion of any group.

Although this is hard to swallow when you are a part of the group on the “inside,” Paul reminds his Jewish readers that God is the potter and He gets to decide what He does with His vessels. So if He decides He wants to shower grace on ‘vessels prepared for destruction,’ He gets to. Paul moved on to explain this is all part of God’s plan and always has been; they’ve made their share of mistakes in the past and learned this lesson before. We Jews need to seize our calling to be a light to the Gentiles and welcome them in the family of faith — the children of Abraham.

But it’s not all fun and games for those Gentiles, either. They have to guard themselves against conceit and arrogance, reminding themselves of the kindness and sternness of God. They must remember that — if not for the grace of God — they are a wild olive tree which doesn’t belong.

In light of this larger argument, Paul turns his attention to the application of this truth. With a great “Therefore” statement to begin Romans 12, Paul calls God’s people to love:

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

In view of this incredible mercy we described in the paragraphs above, the only logical response would be to let ourselves be shaped by this Potter. How would God shape these new vessels for His divine use?

For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.

If this is what God is up to in the world, neither one of these groups must think of themselves as better than any other group. (That should remind you of the opening chapters to the letter, right?) Instead, we ought to realize God designed each of us — Jew and Gentile alike — to serve others in the world. We all have something to give. Some of us are teachers and others are administrators. Some of us are prophets, while others encourage. We ought to offer our bodies as living sacrifices and lay ourselves down as an act of service to others around us.

The great Potter is shaping His vessels to be instruments of love.

Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.

Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary:

“If your enemy is hungry, feed him;    if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

This is what it means to partner with God in His project of redemption. We become His instruments of love and hospitality. We give ourselves as living sacrifices to bless others. Whether these “others” are fellow believers in the Body of Christ or our very enemies matters not. We love and we serve. We bless and we do not curse.

NOTE: While it is a tangential thought and outside the scope of this thematic study of Romans, many people have been confused by the “burning coals on his head” reference. Needless to say, as we’ve learned time and time before, the answer is in the Text. Our initial observation is that this line comes from Proverbs 25. What is often harder to see is that the reference to “burning coals” in the Hebrew is always connected to the presence of God. In Tanakh, whenever you see burning coals, you will also find God nearby. As a quick side note (far too quick), this reference in Romans is not inviting us to “torture our enemies with good deeds,” as if we are taking our vengeance on them in some passive-aggressive form of righteousness. Instead, the author is inviting us to bring the presence of God into their lives by not returning evil for evil. Respond to evil with good — and God will show up.

Might we all be inspired to offer ourselves as living sacrifices. May we offer ourselves to others in love and hospitality. Might we lay our lives down in acts of service, doing the very things God designed us to do for the good of others. May we not shrink back at the sight of evil, but overcome evil with good.

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.

ROMANS: Good

Paul has been working hard to make the case that we are not justified because of our own righteousness, but by our faith. That faith, from a Jewish perspective, can be understood as “trust” — and so we have been using the phrase trusting in the promises of God. But what promises do we mean, specifically? For some, they may not like the phrase because they think that “faith” should be a reference to some creedal affirmation of the personhood and deity of Jesus. While I’m not going to take away from the significance of those truths for even a moment, it is important to see that good biblical exegesis doesn’t let that understanding hold water.

There is great debate over the use of pistis Christou (in the Greek) and how it should be translated. Modern scholarship leans toward saying this phrase in the New Testament should always be rendered as “faith OF Christ” and not “faith IN Christ.” Historically speaking, the phrase “faith IN Christ” will only make sense if the New Testament letters are penned much later than we are typically comfortable with. This doesn’t even begin to touch on the etymological problems with translating the phrase IN and not OF.

Nevertheless, more relevant to our conversation, that understanding of faith will not work in Paul’s line of reasoning. Paul has now said in two different letters that Abraham had an understanding of the “gospel” and his faith was the reason for God’s justification. Obviously, Abraham cannot demonstrate a “faith IN Christ,” while he can demonstrate the “faith OF Christ.” So we return to our original question: What promises did Abraham and Jesus trust in? What promises are we supposed to trust in?

There will be many ways to articulate it, but for our conversation we have used the phrase trust the story. It’s a reference back to the story of creation and how God truly feels about humanity. It’s a story reminding us that God sees us with love and compassion. It is a story where God affirms our acceptance and our value. Simply put, God loves us.

Not only this, but God said we (along with all of creation) are part of a good creation. For many of us, having grown up in a Christian worldview that emphasizes our brokenness, our sinfulness, and our depravity (all truths about us, by the way, but not the essential truth God told us), this may come as hard to swallow. I’m not trying to argue man isn’t sinful or that I believe in some twisted version of Pelagian heresy. Humanity is obviously broken, full of potential for incredible evil, and has a tendency for sinful behavior. We all know it to be true of ourselves (more on that in Romans 7) and of others. What I’m saying is that from the opening chapters of Torah, God has pleaded with humanity not to believe this is the essential truth about who they are. And at no point throughout Scripture did God give us a memo to think otherwise.

Sin is serious. Sin is destructive. Sin is incongruent with the world God desires and the Kingdom he invites us to be a part of. There is an urgency about sin in my heart (and yours) and how we ought to turn from it and repent and return to our original design. But there is an original design about us as true today as it ever was. We wrestle with the parts of us that war against each other. But the most inherent truth about who we are is not our depravity, but the truth that we bear the image the God.

Most will point to the book of Romans to make a case that we are all sinful and doomed. The good news is we are engaged in a verse-by-verse journey through the book of Romans as we speak. We will have an opportunity to see if we think this is really what the letter is trying to communicate.

Maybe this idea is too much. Maybe you aren’t willing to accept this, and that is fine, but we must wrestle with the most fundamental truths that shape our understanding of God and humanity. If we are unconvinced, we should be unconvinced because of a serious look at the Scriptures through sound Biblical interpretation and historical context. If so, we will emerge from this journey with an even better understanding of our convictions. And if we consider these questions and find that things seem to have been construed by a few centuries of bad Christian dogma…

So it sounds like it’s time to keep moving! We’re off to deal with a verse that has never made sense until you see it through the lens Paul is presenting.

After making the argument that our justification does not come from our ability to be righteous, but by trusting in the promises of God, Paul makes this statement:

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Paul references the powerlessness that he so eloquently described in the first three chapters. He then says that somebody wouldn’t die for a righteous man, although for a good man, somebody might dare to die. Wait, what?

In our typical understanding of man’s depravity and ultimate sinful condition, that verse makes no sense without an awful lot of explanatory gymnastics. However, if we hold our previous point in view, everything comes in line and works with Paul’s reasoning. Paul has been saying your righteousness does you very little good when it comes to justification. He then says a person won’t lay down their life for another because they are “righteous.” Nobody would do that. A person is willing to lay down their life for another because that person’s life is good. It’s worth being preserved and it’s worth dying for.

We all inherently know this to be true. If you or I were willing to lay down our life for another, it would not be because that person is righteous. It would be because life is worth saving. Humanity is worth saving. The image of God in another human being is worth saving. And do all the Greek etymological study you want surrounding the words used in this verse — it’s only going to help make this case. The term “good” refers to the inherent nature of a thing. Righteous? Well, not so much.

Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die.

We know this to be true for our own lives. We just don’t believe it to be true about God. Brothers and sisters, welcome to the gospel of justification by trusting in the promises of God.

ROMANS: Trusting in the Promises of God

Now that Paul has suggested righteousness comes from faith, apart from observing the miqsat ma’asay haTorah, he needs to be able to make this case from the Torah and show this is the case in the Scriptures, not just a new idea. In the same fashion as Galatians, Paul turns to the the “father of faith” and where the story began, with the story of Abraham.

What then shall we say that Abraham, our forefather according to the flesh, discovered in this matter? If, in fact, Abraham was justified by works, he had something to boast about—but not before God. What does Scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.”

Now to the one who works, wages are not credited as a gift but as an obligation. However, to the one who does not work but trusts God who justifies the ungodly, their faith is credited as righteousness.

Paul says Abraham knew this inherent truth to be true in his own walk of righteousness. Paul states that if Abraham earned his justification from his works, he would be able to boast. It is here where Paul begins using a metaphor based on labor and wage. When a person works, they get a paycheck. If Abraham was justified because of his works, then he earned the justification and he would be able to boast in his successful campaign to work for justification. Paul then says if a person simply trusts in the promises of God, that trust (faith) is “credited” to them as righteousness. The term credited can also be rendered as “reckoned” and refers to a settling of books.

Paul is working off of the same verse in Genesis 15 he used with the Galatians. Genesis told us Abraham had faith and it was reckoned to his account as righteousness. He believed he was accepted by God and was a member of God’s family by promise — that faith in the promise was just as effectual as if he had walked righteously.

Is this blessedness only for the circumcised, or also for the uncircumcised? We have been saying that Abraham’s faith was credited to him as righteousness. Under what circumstances was it credited? Was it after he was circumcised, or before? It was not after, but before! And he received circumcision as a sign, a seal of the righteousness that he had by faith while he was still uncircumcised. So then, he is the father of all who believe but have not been circumcised, in order that righteousness might be credited to them. And he is then also the father of the circumcised who not only are circumcised but who also follow in the footsteps of the faith that our father Abraham had before he was circumcised.

Paul keeps pushing his point to make it relevant to those Gentiles who find themselves in the church of Rome. This belief, this faith cannot be reserved only for the circumcised, for Abraham experienced all of this before he was circumcised. This justification and the crediting of righteousness has to be available independently of circumcision. In this way, Abraham becomes the father of faith for the uncircumcised.

Paul’s point is that this faith is accessible and available to all — circumcised and uncircumcised.

It’s the same God. It’s the same promise. It’s the same faith.

They receive the same justification.

If Paul started his letter by saying all of humanity struggled with the same problem, he goes on to say all of humanity enjoys the same redemption.

Paul reiterates his point:

It was not through the law that Abraham and his offspring received the promise that he would be heir of the world, but through the righteousness that comes by faith. For if those who depend on the law are heirs, faith means nothing and the promise is worthless, because the law brings wrath. And where there is no law there is no transgression.

Abraham partnered with God before he was circumcised, before there was a Law, before there was a single command to follow. This means people cannot rely on the fact that they are obedient to God’s Law for their partnership and acceptance. As Paul stated in the first three chapters, nobody lives up to the standard, whether it’s God’s standard or their own. We all know we fall short and live under a cloud of wrath. Paul suggests we should trust the story instead.

Therefore, the promise comes by faith, so that it may be by grace and may be guaranteed to all Abraham’s offspring—not only to those who are of the law but also to those who have the faith of Abraham. He is the father of us all. As it is written: “I have made you a father of many nations.” He is our father in the sight of God, in whom he believed—the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not.

That is one of my favorite lines in Romans 4. …the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not.

We are invited to trust the story of a God who gives life where death reigns and calls things out of what isn’t there. As we learned in Galatians, we are not righteous, but if we trust in the love and grace of God, He says we are righteous — even when we are not.

…calls into being things that were not.

Abraham understood this. Even though it goes against that which we believe to be most true about ourselves, even though it seems incredibly counterintuitive, Abraham believed that when God said it, it must be true.

Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah’s womb was also dead. Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised. This is why “it was credited to him as righteousness.” The words “it was credited to him” were written not for him alone, but also for us, to whom God will credit righteousness—for us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead. He was delivered over to death for our sins and was raised to life for our justification.

And we too are invited into this same promise and hope. We are invited to believe God feels the same way about all of us. If we believe in this same truth and story, we find we have incredible peace and the joy of a cleansed conscience that is freed from that dark cloud of a curse we carry around.

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

It’s because of God’s love and acceptance — unmerited, unearned, undeserved, but true of God nonetheless — we can celebrate in our redemption. Not only this, but the same truth continues to overflow into other areas as well. We have a new perspective in the midst of suffering; if we are loved and valued, my suffering doesn’t raise the same set of doubts it did about God’s anger and doubts about my acceptance before Him.

In fact, our sufferings have the tendency to become teaching tools. They teach us about perseverance. Our perseverance is used by God to shape character in our lives. Our character is then used by God to bring us hope.

Ultimately, the hope is that God really is who He says He is, and that we really are who God says we are: loved, valued, accepted, redeemed.

And this hope does not disappoint, because somewhere in our bones, at our deepest level, through the work of the Holy Spirit, we know God’s love to be true.

As Jonathan Martin puts it in Prototype:

I believe there was a time in your life, sometime before you succumbed to the constant busyness, noise, and distraction of our world, when you knew something of the loving presence of God. There was a time (perhaps associated with a place) when you knew—or at least suspected—that you were infinitely loved. In other words, I believe you have heard from God, and that you probably know a lot more about hearing from God than you might realize.

ROMANS: Righteousness from God

We left off by making the observation that our cleansed conscience, our salvation, and our redemption need to come from somewhere other than our ability to hold true to a system of rules. No matter whether that system came from our own sense of morality, our own measure of reality, or the rules of God Himself, we would fall short and have a conscience testifying against us.

But Paul has good news for us and continues to this very point, moving toward the ending of the third chapter with these words:

But now apart from the law the righteousness of God has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. God presented Christ as a sacrifice of atonement, through the shedding of his blood—to be received by faith.

As we’ve seen before, an understanding of the first-century conversation surrounding justification is essential to Paul’s argument. If we are justified by performing the miqsat ma’asay haTorah, then there is a difference between the justification of the Jew and of the Gentile. However, Paul says we now understand through Christ that there is a “righteousness of God that has been made known” apart from the Law. If this is true, then this justification is available (and has always been) to both Jew and Gentile alike. We all have the same human condition and we all have access to the same “righteousness from God.” And this righteousness doesn’t come from the Law or from our works of obedience; this righteousness comes from believing in the promises of God. It comes from faith.

He did this to demonstrate his righteousness, because in his forbearance he had left the sins committed beforehand unpunished—he did it to demonstrate his righteousness at the present time, so as to be just and the one who justifies those who have faith in Jesus.

And God has been doing this in His story in order to demonstrate and put on display what His righteousness looks like. God did it in order to be the one who is pursuing justice and the one who brings justice about; He did it to be the judge who cares about everything being in its proper place and bringing that restoration about by pronouncing exoneration to those who trust in His love.

Where, then, is boasting? It is excluded. Because of what law? The law that requires works? No, because of the law that requires faith. For we maintain that a person is justified by faith apart from the works of the law. Or is God the God of Jews only? Is he not the God of Gentiles too? Yes, of Gentiles too, since there is only one God, who will justify the circumcised by faith and the uncircumcised through that same faith. Do we, then, nullify the law by this faith? Not at all! Rather, we uphold the law.

And in case we fall into the trap of typical Christian reasoning, saying the Law is then done away with and no longer a relevant part of the larger conversation, Paul makes it quite clear, just as he did in Galatians, that the Law is far from nullified or done away with. Instead, the Jews are called to uphold the Law. In fact, they are called to correct false understandings of the Law, since it is the Law itself that will bear testimony to the fact that justification has always come by faith.

And because this is the case, boasting is done away with. Since we all wrestle with the same human condition, since we are all justified by the same faith, since we are all subject to the same God and experience the same love, there is no reason or ability to boast. We are all on a level playing field; we are all children in God’s household. Group one, two, and three are all parts of the same story.

But, just as he did in Galatians, Paul now needs to make his case through the Law itself that this gospel isn’t something new at all — it’s been around since the days of Abraham.