The Saint and the
Seventh Chapter of Romans
By
Horatius Bonar (1808-1880)
I do
not see how any one with a right insight into the apostle's argument, without a
theory to prop up, or with any personal consciousness of spiritual conflict,
could have thought of referring this chapter to a believer's unregenerate
condition, or to his transition state while groping his way to rest.
It
furnishes a key to an experience, which would otherwise have seemed
inexplicable, the solution of perplexities which, without it, would have been a
stumbling-block and a mystery.
It is
God's recognition of the saint's inner conflict as an indispensable process of
discipline, as a development of the contrast between light and darkness, as an
exhibition of the way in which God is glorified in the infirmities of His
saints, and in their contests with the powers of evil. Strike out that chapter,
and the existence of sin in a soul after conversion is unexplained. It accounts
for the inner warfare of the forgiven man, and gives the apostle's experience as
a specimen of the conflict.
The
previous chapters show the man forgiven, justified, dead, and risen with Christ.
Is not sin extirpated, then? The seventh chapter answers, "No." It no
longer reigns, but it fights. It does not, indeed, bring back condemnation or
bondage or doubt, but it stirs up strife, strife which the completeness of the
justification does not hinder, and which the saint's progress in holiness does
not arrest, but rather aggravates, so that at times there seems to be
retrogression, not advancement in the spiritual life.
"I
delight in the law of God after the inner man," are the words, not of an
inquirer, or doubter, or semi-regenerate man, but of one who had learned to say,
with saints of other days, "0, how love I Thy law" (Psalm 119:97), nay
with Messiah Himself, "I delight to do Thy will, 0 My God: yea, Thy law is
within My heart" (Psalm 40:8).
"With
the mind I myself serve the law of God," is the language of one to whom
obedience had become blessedness, and who was not only looking into the perfect
law of liberty, but continuing therein (James 1:25), in whose estimation serving
righteousness (Rom 6:18), serving God (6:22), serving the Lord, and serving the
law of God, were equivalents. But then he who thus speaks, this very Paul, who
had died and risen with Christ, who had been in the third heaven, adds, "I
see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing
me into captivity to the law of sin, which is in my members. 0 wretched man that
I am' Who shall deliver me from the body of this death? .. So then with the mind
I myself serve the law of God: but with the flesh the law of sin." This is
not the language of an unregenerate or half-regenerate man. When, however, he
adds. "I am carnal, sold under sin." is it really Paul, the new
creature in Christ, that he is describing? It is; and they who think it
impossible for a saint to speak thus, must know little of sin, and less of
themselves. A right apprehension of sin, of one sin or fragment of a sin (if
such a thing there be), would produce the oppressive sensation here described by
the apostle-a sensation which twenty or thirty years' progress would rather
intensify than weaken. They are far mistaken in their estimate of evil, who
think that it is the multitude of sins that gives rise to the bitter outcry,
"I am carnal." One sin left behind would produce the feeling here
expressed. But where is the saint, whose sins are reduced to one? Who can say,
"I need the blood less and the Spirit less than I did twenty years
ago?"
It is
to be feared that some are carrying out their idea of "no
condemnation," of resurrection with Christ, and of the perfection of the
new man, to such an extreme as to leave no room for conflict after conversion.
They do not see that while conversion calms one kind of storm, it raises
another, which is to be lifelong. To such persons, this seventh chapter of
Romans is as great a vexation as is the ninth chapter to the deniers of divine
sovereignty: both are conscious that their theology would be more manageable
without the explanations and modifications which these chapters force upon them.
They
seem to teach that the regenerate man is made up of two persons, two
individuals-the old man and the new man, constituting two separate and
independent beings, an angel and a devil linked together-the old man
unchangeably evil, the new perfect and impeccable. In this case one is disposed
to ask:
1.
Who is responsible for sin committed? Not the new man, for he is
"perfect," and unless he either sins himself, or helps the old man to
sin, he cannot be accountable for the evil done. A good man and a bad one, shut
up in one prison, would not agree; but the former, however uncomfortable, would
not feel responsible for the sins of the latter. Like David, he might mourn that
he dwelt in Meshech, or like Lot, he might vex his righteous soul with the deeds
done around him, but he would not take guilt to himself because of his
neighbour's misdeeds.
It is
the old man alone, then, that is the sinner!
2.
Who gets the pardon? Is it the old man or the new? Not the new, for he is
perfect; and it will hardly be affirmed that it is he who gets pardon for the
sins of the old man. It must then be the old man that confesses the sin and gets
the forgiveness, and is washed in the blood! Or is there no pardon needed, or
none possible, is such a case? Are the sins of the old man unpardonable? If not
unpardonable, why is he said to be hopelessly bad?
3.
What becomes of the old man at death? Is he cast into hell? Or, if not, what
becomes of him? Is he annihilated? If he be the sinner, and if his sins are not
pardoned, what is to be done with him and with his sins?
4.
For whom did Christ die? Not for the new man, seeing he is perfect from his
creation. It must, then, have been for the old man, and for him alone, seeing it
is he only that sins!
5.
Who is it that dies, is buried, rises and ascends with Christ? Not the old man,
surely? He does not rise again, and sit in heavenly places. Not the new man. He
does not die, nor is he buried.
6.
Who was it that was born again? Not the new man; he did not need that change.
Not the old man; he was incapable of it.
7.
Who is it that makes progress? Not the old man. He is beyond improvement. Not
the new man, for he is perfect. So that there is no room for "the inner man
being renewed day by day." Scripture teaches that the whole man advances,
"increases in the knowledge of God," the old element becoming weaker,
and the new stronger, and the individual growing in hatred of sin, love to God
and Christ, the righteous law, and every holy thing. But how those who insist on
the perfection of the new man and the unchangeableness of the old can teach
progress, we do not see.
These
questions, thus asked and answered, lead us to the simple conclusion that the
language of the apostle is figurative. "Not figurative at all," said a
friend to us. There is no figure in the matter. Only a rationalist would say so.
Bible words are all real and literal." Real I grant; not always literal.
There
are figures in Scripture. When the Lord said, "Beware of the leaven of the
Pharisees," He used a figure, and His disciples were wrong in accepting His
words literally. They were the rationalists. When He said, "Ye must be born
again." He used a figure, and
Nicodemus was mistaken in construing His language literally. He was the
rationalist. The disciples and Nicodemus, by their literalities, turned our
Lord's words into foolishness. So do some among us, by their teaching as to the
old and new man. If there be no figure, then there must be two bodies, two
souls, two spirits, those of the old man and the new; for a man is a being made
up of body, soul and spirit. If there be no figure here, there will be no figure
in Ezekiel 36:26, and it must be maintained that God literally takes out one
heart and puts in another-takes out a stone and inserts flesh-in which case the
old nature disappears entirely and the new reigns alone.
We
know that there is conflict in the soul. But this is not between two persons or
personalities, or separate individuals, but between two parts of one person. In
the case before us, the one person is Paul-once Saul, now Paul. He feels himself
responsible for the sins of the old man; he gets the pardon for the old man's
sins; for the old man is but another name for a part of his own very self. It
was Paul who was born again, who died and rose with Christ. He was
"begotten again," not by the insertion of a foreign substance called
"the new creature" into him, but by his becoming a new creature. The
whole man is converted, puts on Christ, is washed in His blood, and clothed with
the righteousness of God-soul, spirit, conscience, intellect and will. These are
not perfected at once, but the transformation begins at regeneration, and though
there are two conflicting elements, there is one responsible self or person.
This
mysticism as to the old and new man proceeds on a confusion similar to that
which mixes up justification and sanctification. The "old man," in the
apostle's figure, evidently means sometimes our former legal condition, and at
other times our former moral state. In the first sense, the old man is
"crucified," "put off once for all, in believing, when we cease
to have "confidence in the flesh" (Phil 3:3). Thus far it is true that
it is not amended, but set aside entirely. In the second sense, there is a daily
putting off what is old, and putting on what is new. It is like our putting on
Christ, which is done once for all at justification, but also gradually, in the
process of renewing, so that in one place we read, "Ye...have put on
Christ" (Gal 3:27), and in another, "Put ye on the Lord Jesus
Christ" (Rom 13:14). The mixture of these two things is the chief source of
the errors we have been exposing.
This
mysticism or confusion is a serious thing. It has been sometimes taught in such
away as to lead men to believe that their peace rested on the perfection or
impeccability of the new man. They were taught that the new man could not sin,
that all sin came from the old man, whom they had put off, and that therefore
they did not need to trouble themselves about sin. No doubt the consciences of
some of these misled individuals shrunk from the full application of this
antinomianism, but others went on in sin, not so much because grace abounded, as
because they were not responsible for the sins indulged in. The new man in them
did not commit the sin; it was the old man, who did it all, and what better
could be expected of one who was totally incorrigible!
Thus
the foundations were destroyed; the ground of reconciliation was not the blood
of the Sin-bearer, but the new man; the foundation of peace was a perfect self,
and not a perfect Christ. Nay, Christ was made the minister of sin, and all
manner of evil was justified, on the plea that the new man could not sin.
This
doctrine, as sometimes stated, reads not amiss. It looks plausible, as
professing to rest on the very words of Scripture. But it only needs a slight
analysis, a little taking to pieces, to show that its effect, if carried out,
would be to destroy the feeling of responsibility, to weaken the sense of sin,
to blunt the edge of conscience, to shift the foundation of a sinner's peace
from Christ to self, to render the blood of sprinkling unnecessary, to hinder
personal holiness, and to supersede the work of the Holy Spirit in the soul.
For, as to this last, if the doctrine be true, there is no room for the Spirit's
operation, any more than for the blood, as He cannot work in the old man, and
does not need to work in the new.
That
the Christian is not responsible for sin committed against his better will, nay,
that sin in the Christian is not sin at all, has been maintained from Romans
7:17; "It is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me." In
this, however, the apostle is not shaking off responsibility from himself, but
explaining a fact, giving the solution of a difficulty. The verse contains one
of those peculiar Oriental negatives which the imperfection of human speech
renders necessary, in order to bring out the whole of a great but complex truth,
which, in less peculiar language, could not be perfectly enunciated. The passage
is only one out of several, exhibiting the same apparently contradictory form of
assertion. The others are as follows: "I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth
in me" (Gal 2:20);
The
dislike which some have to consider this chapter as expository of a saint's
daily conflict is by no means a safe sign of their religion or their theology.
That peace with God through the blood of Christ should be the beginning of
warfare seems to us one of the most inevitable conclusions from the gospel,
whether of Christ or of Paul. Indeed, it goes farther back than this, to the
first promise regarding the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent, and
this warfare, internal no less than external, has filled up the life of every
saint from the beginning. Apostolic conflict is but a reproduction of
patriarchal. Abel and Stephen, Noah and Peter, Abraham and Paul, move over the
same battlefield, for the church is one, her covenant one, her warfare one, her
victory and glory one. Each saint has "groaned, being burdened," the
groan has deepened as the light increased, and the New Testament fullness of
liberty, instead of diminishing, has intensified the conflict. One can imagine
David or Elijah perplexed about this unending war. How thankful they would have
been for the seventh chapter of Romans, as the clearing up of the mystery! Yet
they fought on, as men fight in the twilight or the mist; they finished their
course and won their crown. And shall we, in these last days, fling away the key
to the mystery, which the Holy Spirit has given us by Paul? Or shall we get quit
of the mystery by denying the existence of the conflict? Shall we stifle
conscience by calling that no sin which is sin? Shall we extenuate trespass
because found in a saint? Shall we sit easy under evil, because done by the old
man, not the new, by the flesh, and not by the spirit? Shall we nurse our
spiritual pride by calling the internal conflict an abnormal and unnecessary
phase of Christian life, ascribing it to imperfect teaching, or meager faith, or
the retention of the beggarly elements of Jewish bondage?
We
may notice here 1 John 3:9: "Whosoever is born of God doth not commit
sin." This cannot mean that no man, once born again, ever commits sin; in
that case there is no Christian upon earth. The apostle, in Chapter 1:7,8, takes
for granted that the Christian does commit sin; nay, that he dare not say he has
no sin without making God a liar, and showing that the truth is not in him. He
means to affirm that the being born of God is the only way of deliverance from
sin, and that holiness is the true and natural result of being born of God.
This
kind of affirmation is common: "None of us liveth to himself, and no man
dieth to himself' (Rom 14:7), that is, such is the life which might be expected
from us. "He is the minister of God to thee for good" (Rom 13:4), that
is, he would be, if he fulfilled his office. It is added, "He cannot sin,
because he is born of God," that is, it is totally contrary to his nature
to sin. See also the following passages: "A good tree cannot bring forth
evil fruit" (Matt 7:18), that is, it is contrary to its nature to do so,
though it sometimes does; "As long as they have the bridegroom with them,
they cannot fast," (Mark 2:19), that is, it would be incongruous and
unnatural. (Compare such passages as the following: Luke 11:7; 14:20; John 7:7;
8:43; 9:4; 12:39; Acts 4:16,20; 1 Cor 2:14; 10:21; 2 Cor 13:8.) These passages
show that "cannot" often means, not that the thing does not or might
not occur, but that its occurrence is wholly against the nature of things.
"Whoso abideth in Him sinneth not" (1 John 3:6); that is, this is the
true and only preservation from sin. God's seed remaineth in us, for we are
"born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the Word of
God" (1 Peter 1:23).