Eisegesis

 Eisegesis sounds pretentious, but it's a real word. It means "reading in." It's adding something into the text because we expect it to be there, or we want it to be there. It's a hard trap to avoid, because it's hard to see and identify our own biases and preconceptions.

A few years ago, I read an article online where someone referenced the parable of the sower (Matthew 13:3–9), calling it the "parable of the soils." That's not the first time I've heard that title, nor the last. But in this case, I commented on the article, asking why the person had called it "the parable of the soils" when the Lord called it "the parable of the sower" (Matthew 13:18). The author responded:

The reason why I (and I assume others also) have referred to it as the parable of the soils is to focus upon the main thrust of the passage – the ground on which the seed was thrown. The emphasis by the Lord leans heavily toward the condition of the soil where the seed was sown, representing the four different heart responses to the Gospel message. In no way (at least with me) is it meant to counter the words of our Lord or to redirect the teaching.

I didn't follow up on that response, because I wasn't interested in fight on a comment thread. But it's been more than five years since that exchange, and as I've thought it over, it hasn't gotten less troubling. 

Note: I'm not going to link to the article, nor to the comment thread, because I'm not trying to embarrass anyone. It shouldn't be too hard to find, if you want to fact-check me on it. If you can't find it, email me and I can send you a link. 

As far as I can tell, the Lord gave exactly one of His parables a title. He told many, many parables; but this appears to be the only one He titled. Since we agree that the title of the parable focuses our attention to a specific element of the story, it's self-evident that the emphasis by the Lord is not on the soils at all, but on the sower. That's why He called it "the parable of the sower."

And this is what I mean by reading something into a passage. Doing something as small as giving a parable a title seems to be harmless, but it's not. Does this person really think the Lord missed the main thrust of the passage? I'm sure he doesn't, but it's what he actually said in that response.

So we can think more highly of ourselves than we ought, or we can use this as a teachable moment for ourselves. We can ask, "where do I read things into the Scripture?"

For years I thought that the Lord taught we should do good works so that men and women would see them and believe. But that's not what the Lord said. He said, "Let your light thus shine before men, so that they may see your upright works, and glorify your Father who is in the heavens" (Matthew 5:16). Why did I think that verse was teaching that good works would lead someone to repent? It's not in the text, it was only there in my mind. To be fair, it was likely because I had heard others misquote that verse all my life; but we can fairly say that I misread that verse, because I thought I knew what it was supposed to say.

I wasn't allowing the Scripture to speak to me, I was trying to finish the Lord's sentences!

So where else am I doing this? I'm sure there are many places in Scripture where I am finishing the Lord's sentences. I'm sure there are many places where I just assume I know what the text is going to say. 

 

Except the Lord build the house

 Psalm 127:1–5

 

A friend asked me the difference between Dispensationalism and and Covenant Theology. My answer is that the one stresses discontinuities between the Old and New Testament, while the other stresses continuity. That's a pretty vague statement, but I think it's a good place to start. Obviously both are -isms, and so both are definitely wrong in at least some points. 

One of the effects of reading Darby extensively was that I began to back off a lot from the Dispensationalism I grew up with, as I began to see more and more continuities between the Old and New Testaments. That's not to say I dove into Covenant Theology, or anything like it. But reading Darby forced me to see and appreciate many continuities between the Old and New Testaments, which aren't really acknowledged among more mainstream Dispensationalists.

I really do believe all -isms are wrong. Dispensationalism, Calvinism, Arminianism – they're all wrong by virtue of the fact they're -isms. Yes, even Darbyism (and that really is a thing). They're all wrong because none quite addresses the whole counsel of God. Further, it seems like we humans just can't resist moving from "working model" to "interpretive framework" to "replacement for Scripture." We just can't seem to avoid getting to the place where we disregard at least some part of Scripture because of our personal theology (Matthew 15:1–6).

Don't get me wrong! If the choice is between Calvinism and Arminianism, and I have to choose, I'll take Calvinism every time. As far as I can tell, it represents Scripture much more completely and honestly than the other... but it would be far better for me to stick to Scripture. Similarly, I think Dispensationalism is a much better -ism than Covenant Theology, but it's still an -ism, it's still lacking, and it still easily becomes a replacement for Scripture if we allow our vigilance to fail.

I've said it many times: the unique feature of Darby's writings is that he resists the temptation to develop a theology. I wish I could do the same.

One of the marks of the "dispensationalism" of Darby, Kelly, et al. was the teaching that a godly walk isn't the result of careful adherence to the Law, or careful self-discipline, but the result of our union with Christ in His death, the indwelling Holy Spirit, and the work of God in us. Of course that's a mark of that era's Dispensationalism that was quick to disappear. Many who teach Dispensationalism today still mention our union with Christ, but they seem to think it's relegated to a "positional" truth, not something that really affects our lives. 

Of course there is the opposite error: an error that I easily fall into. We won't passively fall into godliness. It's easy for me (and some other people I know) to allow ourselves to fall into the error opposite legalism, which is an almost fatalistic "passivism." That's not what Scripture teaches.

So what does Scripture teach?

 Psalm 127:1–2 shows us what's happening behind the scenes. There are builders working on a house, but unless the Lord is the one actually building it, their labor is vain. There are watchmen watching over a city, but unless the Lord is keeping it, their waking is in vain. 

Vain labor is a thing. It's probably more common than we realize: time, effort, resources spent pursuing some end on our own, without the Lord being in it. Robert has commented that "without me you can do nothing" (John 15:5) is a promise we don't like to remember. We like to think we are capable of accomplishing things on our own, we don't like to remember that without the Lord, we might well do things, but we can't accomplish anything.

Well, we don't interpret Psalm 127:1–2 to mean that the city shouldn't post watchers, nor that the builder of a house shouldn't work hard. That's going beyond what the Scripture actually says. It's not an injunction against human effort, but it is an observation that we cannot control the outcome of our labors. The Lord accomplishes what He sets out to accomplish, and we work against Him in vain.

We like to speak out against laziness – and rightly so –, but Psalm 127:2 tells us that the Lord gives rest to His beloved. Now, I read "His beloved" to mean primarily Christ, but it seems to me there is an extension to us here as well. When we recognize that our work is really His work, then we realize the outcome isn't really our concern. We don't pour our lives into vain labor, we allow Him the end that He wants.

At the same time, I have come to believe that our work (work "of the Lord" 1 Corinthians 15:58) is real and significant. I confess that any number of times over the last twenty-five years, I've held to a view pretty close to fatalism. I have many times believed – in fact, if not in words – that we are more or less just to sit and wait for God to do the work. I was wrong. That's not what Scripture describes. Rodger mentioned to me that sonship implies a significant relationship, almost an uneven partnership. We have been called into a relationship with the Father and the Son where we have been freed and empowered to take part in the work the Lord is doing. 

But make no mistake, the partnership is definitely not an even one. That's what Psalm 127 is saying. Those who build the house are laboring: but it's the Lord who really builds the house. The watchmen are waking, but it's the Lord who is keeping the city. So we're not working to produce something for God. We're working with God, to be a very small part of what He's producing. That's really the idea of sonship: that we come into the family business and take part. But we don't delude ourselves into thinking the family business was struggling until we took part: God is and was getting precisely the outcome that He wants.

 

Romans 9

Having mentioned Romans 9, it seems like a good idea to spend a few minutes reading through that chapter. Not to give a real exegesis, but to give an overview of the argument in that chapter. 

 

vv. 1–5, the problem of Gentile belief and Jewish unbelief

Romans 9:1–5 sets out an apparent contradiction with Romans 8:29 ff. Israel "according to flesh" (Romans 9:3) has largely not believed in Christ, so they're excluded from the Romans 8 blessings. At the same time, gentiles who have believed are promised them. But there are eight blessings to Israel listed in Romans 9:4–5, including Christ Himself. So how can we understand this conundrum?

The answer takes three chapters to develop, but if we limit ourselves to this chapter, we'll see that it builds on "Divine sovereign individual election". That argument takes up basically all of this chapter.

 

vv. 6–7 The Word of God has not failed

The thesis is given in Romans 9:6 – the word of God has not failed. That's the central point, and the same verse tells us why: because "not all [are] Israel which [are] of Israel" (Romans 9:6).  This is the point that will be argued for the rest of the chapter, but it's the point that seems most frequently missed when I hear people discussing Romans 9.

The argument that the word of God hasn't failed is that not all of Israel's descendants are counted as the nation of Israel, nor are all of Abraham's descendants counted as children (Romans 9:6–7). It's possible that someone can be descended from Israel (Jacob), but not be part of the nation of Israel as far as God is concerned. It's possible for someone to be a descendant of Abraham, but not be included in God's reckoning of Abraham's children.

 

vv. 8–9 Isaac is a son, Ishmael is not

Let's pause here and say that this explains the strange and repeated assertion in Scripture that Isaac is Abraham's only son (Genesis 22:1–2, 15–19; Hebrews 11:17–19) even though we're explicitly told that Isaac had an older brother (Genesis 21:9) and several younger siblings (Genesis 25:1–6). We know for a fact that Isaac was not Abraham's only begotten son, but Scripture describes him that way.

So Romans 9:8–9 explains that Isaac is Abraham's only son as far as God is concerned, because he is the son of promise. Ishmael is Abraham's physical descendant, but God doesn't count him as a child of Abraham.

 

vv. 10–13 Jacob is chosen, Esau is not

Romans 9:10-13 applies this same principle to the next generation, saying that although Jacob and Esau were twins, having the same father and the same mother, Jacob is chosen but Esau is not. And here were have an amazing parenthesis that introduces a very important point (Romans 9:11), that it wasn't a matter of what they did. Indeed, we're explicitly told that God chose Jacob over Esau when neither of them had done either good or evil. And we're told why: "that the purpose of God according to election might stand." 

 

summary of vv. 6–13 election is individual

One interpretation of these verses is national election: the idea being that Ishmael, Esau, and Jacob all represent nations, and God was effectively choosing the nation of Jacob (Israel) as opposed to the nations of Esau (Edom) and Ishmael. I held that view for many years, but it doesn't stand up to the opening statement in Romans 9:6–7 – "not all are Israel who are of Israel, nor are all children who are seed." We know this is the point of these stories, because the text has already told us where the argument is going. The argument isn't to support national election (which is a real thing), it's the opposite: membership in an elect nation isn't an indication of individual election. That's the statement in Romans 9:6–7, and it's the argument that's being developed in Romans 9:8–13. Ishmael and Esau both had the right father, and Esau even had the right mother (notice that's explicitly mentioned in Romans 9:10), but they weren't themselves chosen. 

So we could stop right there and we have our answer to the conundrum of Romans 9:1–5. Being born into the [elect] nation of Israel doesn't mean that God considers you one of Abraham's descendants. It's brutal, it's harsh, but it's the argument of Romans 9.

v. 14 is God unrighteous?

But of course there's more, and now we get to the part that really angers the flesh. Romans 9:14 asks the question, is God unrighteous? And of course the answer is no. But the argument to establish it actually makes things "worse".

v. 15–16 what about Israel?

The thesis of our argument is that the word of God hasn't failed because, "they are not all Israel who are of Israel,  nor are they all children because they are the seed of Abraham" (Romans 9:6–7). vv. 8–13 has given us examples of the second statement – Ishmael, Isaac, Esau, and Jacob are all descendants of Abraham, but only Jacob is the chosen. But we haven't seen a case where someone is of Israel, but not Israel. So now we come to an example from later in the story – from Israel.

Romans 9:15 takes us back to Exodus 33:19–23. The entire nation of Israel (except Moses and Joshua) had committed idolatry at the foot of Sinai, and God had threatened to wipe them all out. And in fact, Exodus 32:25–29 tells us that Moses had ordered the summary execution of three thousand of the people, right then and there; so not all the nation is shown mercy. So now Moses has been pleading with God for the people, and at the end, God says, "I will be merciful to whom I will be merciful."

Now we're looking at the whole question of election from the other side. In Romans 9:8–13, the argument has been about excluding individuals from the elect nation. Now we're discussing an entire nation that has sinned, that all deserves to be wiped out (Exodus 32:7–10). And God says that He will not treat them like they deserve: He will choose – not because of any merit on their part – to be merciful to them, because that's what He chooses. So now we're discussing God's choosing (election) in terms of inclusion: in terms of including people who have done nothing to deserve it. So Romans 9:16 reiterates the statement of Romans 9:11, that the issue is whom God chooses. God shows mercy to whom God chooses to show mercy, it's not an issue of what you do, nor even what you choose, but whether God chooses to show mercy.

 

 

vv. 17–18 Pharaoh

So now we hit the hardest verses: as soon as we find that God chooses to show mercy to some who don't deserve it (Romans 9:16), we find the story of Pharaoh. And here we find that God chose not to show mercy to someone. Indeed, God chose to harden Pharaoh's heart (Romans 9:17). God raised Pharaoh up – notice Romans 9:17–18 doesn't start the discussion with Pharaoh already on the throne, but with God raising him up – to show His power through Pharaoh. And Romans 9:18 tells us that God's choice to show mercy is mirrored in His choice to harden: He has mercy on whom He wills, and He hardens whom He wills.

 

summary of vv. 6–18 God chooses individuals

Before we look at Romans 9:19, let's remind ourselves of the context. The problem in Romans 9:1–5 is that Israel has been given promises that we just don't see fulfilled.  Gentiles are getting blessings in Christ (Romans 8:28 ff.), but Israel is not. And the answer given is that the word of God hasn't failed, because God chooses individuals. Not every person descended from Abraham is counted as a child of Abraham. Not every person born into Israel is counted as part of the chosen nation. There is national election, but Romans 9 is arguing that an individual's place in an elect nation is itself a choice of God. That God has the right to exclude individuals from their national election.

And Romans 9:18 answers directly to the conundrum of Romans 9:1–5. Why has Israel largely (not entirely! Romans 11:1–6) rejected Christ? The first answer is given in Romans 9:6–7, not all those individuals are in God's reckoning of Israel. The second answer is given in Romans 9:18, God has chosen to show mercy to some, and has chosen to harden others.

 

vv. 19–20 how can God judge, if His purpose is always fulfilled?

So now we see the reaction, “Why does He still find fault? For who has resisted His will?”  (Romans 9:19).  Let's remind ourselves that this is the test of whether we've been paying attention in the previous 18 verses. If we have, we'll also conclude that no one can resist God's purpose. He chooses to show mercy to some, and to harden others. So how can God judge them? Isn't that unfair? 

Paul's answer is brutal and direct, who are you to judge God? (Romans 9:20).

Romans 9 goes on to develop this idea, but it's worth pausing here to let this one sink in. God doesn't have to explain Himself to us. He has every right to harden Pharaoh's heart, and then destroy Pharaoh because he wouldn't humble himself. That's pretty much what God promised Moses He would do (Exodus 4:21–23). Before Moses returned to Egypt, before he stood before Pharaoh the first time, before he ever mentioned letting the children of Israel go, God said He'd make sure Pharaoh didn't obey, and then He'd punish Pharaoh for it.

God doesn't owe us an explanation: He has every right to make vessels of honor and vessels of dishonor. 

 

vv. 22–24 vessels of mercy and vessels of wrath

Romans 9:22–24 brings this whole discussion back to the opening conundrum of Romans 9:1–5. There are vessels of wrath, prepared for destruction (Romans 9:22). There are vessels of mercy prepared beforehand for glory (Romans 9:23). God has made both. The vessels of mercy are identified as "us whom He called, not of the Jews only, but also of the Gentiles" (Romans 9:24). Notice how it ties this back in with Romans 8:30. And notice that these vessels of mercy aren't defined by lineage or any form of national election: they are individuals, called from Israel and from the Gentile nations.

Romans 9:25–29 goes on to substantiate this claim quoting Hosea and Isaiah, which we'll skip for the sake of brevity.

 

vv. 30–33 righteousness by faith, not by law

We should mention Romans 9:30–33, though, because it carries the argument forward from Romans 9:1–5, and ties it into Romans 10:1–4. Here "Israel" refers to the nation, effectively the people who aren't considered children of Abraham in Romans 9:6–7. This is "Israel according to flesh" as in Romans 9:1–5. 

And what do we find? That gentiles (not all gentiles, surely) have attained righteousness through faith (Romans 9:30), while Israel (not all Israel, certainly) has failed to attain righteousness, attempting to earn it by law (Romans 9:31–32).

That "Israel" here doesn't mean the whole nation (i.e., God has a remnant in Israel) is clear both from context (cf. Romans 11:1–6) and from the preceding statement. We don't understand "the Gentiles... have attained to righteousness" (Romans 9:30) to mean that all the gentiles are believers. This isn't teaching a sort of a reverse national election! But the bulk of Israel – Abraham's and Jacob's physical descendants – have rejected Christ, and thus have rejected God's righteousness. Gentiles, who have no claim to blessing as descendants of Abraham, have found God's righteousness. This is developed more fully in Romans 10 and 11.

But notice that the issue in Romans 9:30–32 isn't some temporal blessing. The issue is righteousness before God. [Some] gentiles are righteous before God, having believed. [Some] Israelites are unrighteous before God, having not believed. So yes, the argument of Romans 9 is indeed an argument of election to salvation. It encompasses more than just salvation (the eight blessings to Israel in Romans 9:1–5), but any claim that Romans 9 isn't about salvation ignores vv. 22–32.

 

So that's my take on Romans 9. I apologize it was so long, but following my comments on the significance of Romans 9:19 earlier, it seemed worthwhile to write down. I've read too much on the chapter not to have picked up ideas from others on it, but I've deliberately avoided referring to commentaries to keep the flow of the text. So I'm sure there's nothing I could say that's not in one of Darby's expositions, or in Newell's Romans, Verse by Verse.

 

"You will say to me"

I'm having a prolonged conversation with two friends who disagree with me on election. I have no idea if they read this blog or not, but I'll try and keep things anonymous. I'm not interested in beating up on them behind their backs (so to speak), but some thoughts have come out of this that I want to share, and perhaps even develop more fully here.

I can think of several places in Romans (I'm sure there are more) where Paul stops the flow of the argument to anticipate a reaction from the reader:

• Romans 6:1 "what shall we say then? shall we continue in sin that grace may abound?" 
• Romans 7:7 "What shall we say then? [is] the law sin?"
• Romans 7:13 "Did then that which is good become death to me?"
• Romans 9:14 "What shall we say then? [Is there] unrighteousness with God?"
• Romans 9:19  "Thou wilt say to me then, Why does he yet find fault? for who resists his purpose?"

These are very useful checkpoints in the book. While they serve a rhetorical purpose, they also serve an exegetical purpose: they tell us how the apostle expects us to react to what he has said. So, for example, in Romans 6:1, he anticipates that our reaction will be, "should we just keep sinning?" Alan Gamble says Romans 6:1 is the test for whether we're preaching the true Gospel, or just preaching good works. When Paul presents the Gospel, he expects the reaction to be "why not just keep sinning?" If people don't ask that after our Gospel messages, we're just preaching good works.

It was a turning point in my life when I realized that when I read Romans 9:1–18, I didn't react the way Paul expects. The expected reaction is in Romans 9:19. He expects we'll say, "why does God judge someone who doesn't have a choice?" So if I have a different reaction to the one Paul expects, maybe I'm not following his argument very well.

I realized that I had developed a theology of Romans 9 that no one would find offensive. If I explained Romans 9:1–18, no one would hear my explanation and conclude that God was judging someone who didn't have a choice. But when Paul taught Romans 9:1–18, that was exactly the conclusion. The fact that my understanding of Romans 9 wasn't offensive proved it was wrong, because Paul's is entirely offensive. If you read Romans 9:1–18 and don't react by saying, "how can God judge someone who doesn't have a choice?" then you have missed the point.

Interestingly, Romans 9:20 doesn't give an explanation for how God is just misunderstood. Paul doesn't say, "No, you misunderstood me, of course God is fair." On the contrary, he says, "how dare you judge God?" (Romans 9:20).  I can't think of very many places where the Scripture presents a difficulty and then doesn't answer it, but Romans 9:19–20 is one of those places. It tells us that our reaction to Romans 9:1–18 will be indignation, then it tells us we need to shut up and sit down. (OK, that's a pretty loose paraphrase.)

So yes, if we find Romans 9:18 offensive, then we probably understood it correctly. But of course we shouldn't stop there. William R Newell says, "a believer’s heart is not fully yielded to God until it accepts without question, and without demanding softening, this eighteenth verse [Romans 9:18]" (Romans, Verse by Verse, p. 369). 

There was a day I realized quite clearly that I very much demanded "softening" of Romans 9. I remember realizing that my problem with Romans 9:1–20 wasn't that I had difficulty understanding it, but that I had difficulty accepting it.

That was a humbling day.

Now, I'm not saying my friends don't have hearts yielded to God. My point is that I very clearly remember when God used these verses to show me that I wasn't submitting to Him. I needed to accept my place isn't to judge God, but to accept that He is my judge. God is God, I am just a man, and not a terribly remarkable man at that.

It think that's pretty close to a working definition of repentance (Job 42:1–6).

I thought that might be helpful to share.

Dead to Sin

 I've written about this so many times that I'm afraid anything I write here will merely be a repeat of something I've said before. But perhaps it's worth going over again, and perhaps we might find something new and worthy of our time.

Having grown up very evangelical, it was a turning point in my life when I discovered Romans 6:1–11. For the first time, I realized that Christianity is not about my efforts to please God. The Christian life begins not with "Do!" but with "Done!" And that's not just a statement about justification or redemption – Colossians 2:6 tells us we are to walk with Christ in the same way we received Him. Both are by grace, through faith. Both are resting in what God says about His Son.

The first mention of "salvation" in scripture is Genesis 49:18, "I wait for thy salvation".  We next see it in Exodus 14:13, "stand still and see the salvation of Jehovah."  Exodus 14 goes on to describe what salvation looks like: "Thus Jehovah saved Israel that day out of the hand of the Egyptians; and Israel saw the Egyptians dead on the sea-shore" (Exodus 14:30–31).

I know I've said this too many times, but it bears repeating here. We tend to see words like "salvation," "redemption," and "justification" as synonyms; they are not. They are very closely related, but they don't at all mean the same thing. These words describe very different things. Sometimes they occur very closely together (sometimes they do not), but they're still very distinct things.

Exodus 14 teaches us two very important facts about salvation:

1. it is God's work – we need to "stand still" to see it (Exodus 14:13)
   
2. it results in our seeing the enemy dead (Exodus 14:30) 

Romans 6 invites us to see the enemy – our own fallen and lost selves – lying dead. There isn't merely some psychological trick the scripture plays on us, it's an act of faith. When I accept what God has said as the truth, I that is faith. Romans 6 doesn't make any sense except as an act of faith. God has said I have died with Christ, therefore it must be true.

Now, Romans 6 doesn't teach annihilation – it's not that I have ceased to exist. But it does teach that that man I was has died. I was once a lost sinner, but having died with Christ, I am not that man any more. And having been raised with Him from the dead (Colossians 3:1), I am now in a place to walk in newness of life. 

And notice, it doesn't say sin has died. It says I have died.

But it's of the first importance (or, as J. N. Darby would say, "of the last importance") that we do what Romans 6:1–11 invites us to do, what the Israelites did in Exodus 14:30. We need to pause and look at the dead enemy. Churches are full of people who are trying to walk in the newness of life, who haven't ever really believed or accepted that their old life has ended, that they have died with Christ. They haven't looked at the bodies on the shore.

And this is the problem I have with so many evangelicals when they start to discuss baptism: they make it out to be an act by which we promise to walk in newness of life. That's not it at all! It's not that we promise something to God, but that we are accepting what He has already done for us. Urging people who have never accepted that they have died with Christ to live in newness of life doesn't result in godliness, it results in hypocrisy.

Let me just add here, that our having died with Christ doesn't empower us. It frees us, but it doesn't empower us. It's the Holy Spirit that empowers us, and He's not the subject of Romans 6, but Romans 8. Having died with Christ, we are now in a place to walk in newness of life. But we find that being in that position isn't actually enough: we need the power of the Holy Spirit. But that's perhaps a subject for another time.

At one point, I applied Romans 6 to various sins. I might have thought to myself, "Remember, you have died to anger," or "you have died to lust." I don't believe that's what Romans 6 is teaching at all. It's talking about sin, not sins. And it's not even talking sin in the most abstract sense, although I thought that for a while too. The context of Romans 6 – the discussion that starts in Romans 6:1 and ends in Romans 8:17 – leads me to believe it's talking about the sin that dwells in me (Romans 7:17). 

But again, it's not that sin has died. Indeed, Romans 8:3–4 indicates that sin, having been condemned, is still very active. But I have died. I have died with Christ, and so I am free from sin (Romans 6:7, NASB). Not from its presence (at least not yet, Romans 8:23), but from its power.

We are, indeed, called to newness of life (Romans 6:4). But we get into trouble when we try and skip steps, and trying to walk in newness of life without recognizing our death with Christ, is definitely skipping a step.

The result of our having died with Christ is glorifying God in our bodies (Romans 6:12–14). This is unique to Christianity. We await the redemption of our bodies (Romans 8:23, Philippians 3:20–21) when the Son of God comes from Heaven to make them like His. But we're not just supposed to sit here and wait. We're to glorify God now, in fallen bodies. We're to live out in this creation a life that really belongs in the next (2 Peter 3:13).  That doesn't mean we don't hope for the new heavens and new earth, and it doesn't mean we just write this one off. We glorify God here and now, patiently waiting for His time to bring us into the new one. Keeping both of these things in focus, erring neither to the right hand nor to the left, is very difficult for me.

So seeing myself as having died to sin isn't an excuse for inaction in this world. But it's necessary to glorify God here and now.

Dead to the Law (reprise)

 J. N. Darby wrote an article titled, "The Sabbath: or, Is the law dead, or am I?". That's a good question to contemplate.

To be blunt, a lot of dispensationalists get this one wrong. We tend to think the Law was "for then", not "for now". But that's not what Scripture actually teaches. Scripture teaches not that the Law came to an end, but that our death with Christ has made us dead to it. This perspective is important if we want to understand what the Epistles (particularly the Pauline Epistles) teach.

Romans 7:5–8 is careful to tell us two things that almost appear to be opposites. First, when we attempt to keep the Law, we will find that it merely empowers the sin that lives in us (Romans 7:18–23 reiterates this point). Many Christians talk about the Law curbing our tendency to sin, but the Epistles tell us just the opposite: the Law makes it easier for us to sin!

The second lesson in Romans 7:5–8 is that while the Law provides a point of attack for the sin that lives in us, the problem is not that the Law is bad. On the contrary, the Law is holy and just and good (Romans 7:12). How does something that is holy and just and good have such a terrible effect on us?

The answer is in Romans 3:20, "by the Law is knowledge of sin." The Law was given to reveal sin (not, as J. N. Darby points out, sins). The Law does exactly what it was designed to do: it reveals our own sinfulness to us. It's working exactly as designed when it shows us to be sinners. This is why 1 Timothy 1:8–11 asserts that the Law isn't for righteous men, but unrighteous ones. The whole point of it is to reveal unrighteousness.

It is not the Law that has died, but I that have died. The problem isn't that the Law is bad, but that I am. And if I insist on putting myself under it, it will do exactly what God gave it to do: it will reveal that I am a sinner.

So what should I do? I need to accept what God has said: I have died with Christ. In that death, I have been put in a place where the Law has nothing to say to me. I have been separated from it as completely as I have been separated from sin. I have died to both, and I am to see myself in that light. My self-image is supposed to be "one that has died with Christ." That death removes me from sin, and from the Law.

Scripture doesn't teach that sin has died, but that I have died. Scripture doesn't teach that the Law has died, but that I have died. The disruption is on my side.

The Law is still as much in effect as it ever was.  And it still works: it still shows fallen men and women to be sinners. We don't believe that the Law has been abolished, but that we have been separated from it by the death of Christ, so that we can be fruitful towards God (Romans 7:4).

Dead to the Law

 I was reading a book whose authors contend that Christians being "not under law, but under grace" (Romans 6:14–15) and their being "dead to the law" (Romans 7:4–6) shouldn't be taken to mean that Christians aren't under obligation to the Law. Their explanation is that "not under law" means not justified by keeping the law.

This view isn't as uncommon as we might expect, so it's worth thinking over.

Galatians 4:3–5 asserts that Christ came to "redeem those under law". So we can confidently say that at least some people are (or were) "under law". If we are to take these authors' view of what it means to be "under law", then we have to conclude that Galatians 4:3–5 teaches there are those who are justified by works. That's an odd statement in light of Galatians 3:10–12, Romans 3:19–20, etc.

What the epistles explicitly teach is that God has only ever justified sinners on the basis of faith (Romans 1:17, 4:1–15). God has never justified on the basis of works – not based on the Law of Moses or any other law. Justification is by faith, only and always. This is the clear teaching of the first four chapters of Romans, as well as the epistle to the Galatians.

So what does it mean to be "under the law"? Romans and Galatians both make it clear that the function of the Law was to reveal sin (not, as Darby points out, sins). In fact, Galatians makes the astonishing statement that it would have been unrighteous of God to add the Law as a condition to a promise He had made to Abraham 400 years earlier (Galatians 3:15–26). We can't make a promise, then add caveats and conditions long after the fact. So we conclude that the Law has nothing – nothing! – to do with justification in God's sight, nor even with the promised blessing to Abraham.

So the Law was only ever a "rule of life", never a means of justification.

And at this point, the entire argument falls apart. If the Law was never more than a rule of life, then it cannot be said that those "under the Law" were under it as more than a rule of life. Nor can it be said that those "not under Law" are under it as a rule of life, but not as a means of justification. That's absurd.

It's striking that Romans 7:4–6 describes our relationship to the Law in the same terms that Romans 6:11 uses to describe our relationship to sin. The Christian lives as separately from the Law as he does from sin.

Now, I realize there are more nuanced views that I've sort of glossed over here. But it seems to me that the Epistles clearly and unequivocally teach that the believer is, indeed, dead to the Law and under no obligation to it. That doesn't mean the believer is to live lawlessly, not at all! But it falls far short of what Scripture teaches to suggest that the Law has any authority at all over the believer.