"Being then made free from sin, ye became the servants of righteousness."
Rom. vi. 18.
IN the passage of which these words form a part, St. Paul insists again
and again on the great truth which they declare, that Christians are not
their own, but bought with a price, and, as being so, are become the servants
or rather the slaves of God and His righteousness; and this, upon their
being rescued from the state of nature. The great Apostle is not content
with speaking half the truth; he does not merely say that we are set free
from guilt and misery, but he adds, that we have become the servants of
Christ; nay, he uses a word which properly means slaves. Slaves are bought
and sold; we were by nature slaves to sin and Satan; we are bought by the
blood of Christ: we do not cease to be slaves. We no longer indeed belong
to our old master; but a master we have, unless slaves on being bought
become freemen. We are still slaves, but to a new master, and that master
is Christ. He has not bought us, and then set us loose upon the world;
but He has done for us what alone could complete His first benefit, bought
us to be His servants or slaves. He has given us that only liberty which
is really such, bond-service to Himself; lest if left to ourselves, we
should fall back again, as we certainly should, to the cruel bondage from
which He redeemed us. But any how, whatever be the consequences it involves,
whatever the advantage, whatever the trial, we did not cease to be slaves
on being set free from Satan; but we became subject to a new Master, to
Him who bought us.
This needs insisting on; for a number of persons who are not unwilling
to confess that they are slaves by nature, from some cause or other have
learned to think that they are not bound to any real service at all, now
that Christ has set them free. Now if by the word slavery, some cruel and
miserable state of suffering is meant, such as human masters often inflict
on their slaves, in that sense indeed Christians are not slaves, and the
word is improper to apply to them; but if by being slaves, is meant that
we cannot throw up our service, change our place, and do as we will, in
that sense it is literally true, that we are more than servants to Christ,
we are, as the text really words it, slaves. Men often speak as if the
perfection of human happiness lay in our being free to do or not to do,
to choose and to reject. Now we are indeed thus free, as far as this,—that
if we do not choose to be Christ's servants, we can go back to that old
bondage from which He rescued us, and be slaves again to the powers of
evil. But though we are free to make our situation worse, we are not free
to be without service or post of any kind. It is not in man's nature to
be out of all service and to he self-dependent. We may choose our master,
but God or mammon we must serve. We cannot possibly be in a neutral or
intermediate state. Such a state does not exist. If we will not be Christ's
servants, we are forthwith Satan's; and Christ set us free from Satan only
by making us His servants. Satan's kingdom touches upon Christ's, the world
touches on the Church; and we cease to be Satan's property by becoming
Christ's. We cannot be without a master, such is the law of our nature;
yet a number of persons, as I have said, overlook it, and think their Christian
liberty lies in being free from all law, even from the law of God. Such
an error seems to have obtained even in St. Paul's time, and is noticed
in the chapter before us. Men seem to have thought that, since the law
of sin was annulled, and the terrors of the law of nature removed, that
therefore they were under no law at all; that their own will was their
law, and that faith stood instead of obedience. In opposition to this great
mistake, St. Paul reminds his brethren in the text, that when they were
"made free from sin," they "became the servants of righteousness." And
again, "Sin shall not have dominion over you; for ye are not under the
law," that is, the law of nature, "but under grace," or (as he elsewhere
expresses it), "the law of faith," or, "the law of the Spirit of life."
They were not without a master, but they had a gracious and bountiful one.
He says the same in other Epistles. For instance, "He that is called,
being free" (that is, free as regards this world), "is Christ's servant"
or slave. "Ye are bought with a price: be not ye slaves of men," but, that
is, be slaves of Christ. Again, after saying, "Slaves obey in all things
your masters according to the flesh," he adds, "for ye are slaves to the
Lord Christ." Elsewhere he speaks of himself as "Paul a servant," or slave,
as the word really means, "of Jesus Christ;" and again, as "not without
law to God, but under the law to Christ." [1 Cor. vii. 22, 23. Col. iii.
22, 24. Rom. i. 1. 1 Cor. ix. 21.]
Religion then is a necessary service; of course it is a privilege too,
but it becomes more and more of a privilege, the more we exercise ourselves
in it. The perfect Christian state is that in which our duty and our pleasure
are the same, when what is right and true is natural to us, and in which
God's "service is perfect freedom." And this is the state towards which
all true Christians are tending; it is the state in which the Angels stand;
entire subjection to God in thought and deed is their happiness; an utter
and absolute captivity of their will to His will, is their fulness of joy
and everlasting life. But it is not so with the best of us, except in part.
Upon our regeneration indeed, we have a seed of truth and holiness planted
within us, a new law introduced into our nature; but still we have that
old nature to subdue, "the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful
lusts." [Eph. iv. 22.] That is, we have a work, a conflict all through
life. We have to master and bring under all we are, all we do, expelling
all disorder and insubordination, and teaching and impressing on every
part of us, of soul and body, its due place and duty, till we are wholly
Christ's in will, affections, and reason, as we are by profession; in St.
Paul's words, "casting down imaginations and every high thing that exalteth
itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every
thought to the obedience of Christ." [2 Cor. x. 5.]
Now I may seem to have been saying what every one will at once confess.
And yet, after all, nothing perhaps is so rare among those who profess
to be Christians, as an assent in practice to the doctrine that they are
under a law; nothing so rare as strict obedience, unreserved submission
to God's will, uniform conscientiousness in doing their duty,—as a few
instances will at once show.
Most Christians then will allow in general terms that they are under
a law, but then they admit it with a reserve; they claim for themselves
some dispensing power in their observance of the law. What I am saying
is quite independent of the question, what is the standard of obedience
which each man proposes to himself? One man puts the line of his duty higher
than another; some men take a low view of it, confining it to mere personal
morality; others confine it to their social obligations; others limit it
by some conventional law, which is received in particular classes or circles;
others include religious observances. But whether men view the law of conscience
as high or low, as broad or narrow, few indeed there are who make it a
rule to themselves; few there are who make their own notion of it, whatever
that be, binding on themselves; few who even profess to act up to it uniformly
and consistently. Inquire of the multitude of men, as you meet them in
the world, and you will find that one and all think it allowable at times
to put themselves above the law, even according to their own standard of
it; to make exceptions and reserves, as if they were absolute sovereigns
of their conscience, and had a dispensing power upon occasions.
What is the sort of man whom the world accounts respectable and religious,
in a high rank or a lower? At best he is such as this. He has a number
of good points in his character; but some of these he has by nature, and
if others have been acquired by trouble, it is either because outward circumstances
compelled him to acquire them, or that he has from nature some active principle
within him, of one kind or another, which has exerted itself; and brought
other principles under, and rules him. He has acquired a certain self-command,
because no one is respected without it. He has been forced into habits
of diligence, punctuality, precision, and honesty. He is courteous and
obliging; and has learned not to say all he thinks and feels, or to do
all he wishes to do, on all occasions. The great mass of men of course
are far from having in them so much that is really praise-worthy as this;
but I am supposing the best. I am supposing then, that a man's character
and station are such, that only now and then he will feel his inclinations
or his interest to run counter to his duty. Such times constitute his trial;
there is nothing to hinder him serving God in the ordinary course, but
the proof of his sincerity lies in his conduct on these extraordinary occasions.
Now this is the point to which I wish to draw attention; for these very
occasions, which alone are his times of trial, are just the times on which
he is apt to consider that he has a leave to dispense with the law. He
dispenses with it at those very times when it is simply the law of God,
without being also the law of self, and of the world. He does what is right,
while the road of religion runs along the road of the world; when they
part company awhile, he chooses the world, and calls his choice an exception.
He does right for ninety-nine days, but on the hundredth he knowingly and
wilfully does wrong; and if he does not justify, at least he absolves himself
in doing it.
For instance; he generally comes to Church, it is his practice; but
some urgent business at a certain time presses on him, or some scheme of
pleasure tempts him:—he omits his attendance; he knows this is wrong, and
says so, but it is only once in a way.
Again; he is strictly honest in his dealings; he speaks the truth, that
is, it is his rule to do so; but if hard pressed, he allows himself now
and then in a falsehood, particularly if it is a slight one. He knows he
should not lie; he confesses it; but he thinks it cannot be helped; it
is unavoidable from circumstances, as being his only way of escaping some
great difficulty. In such a case it is, as he says, all fair, and so he
gets over it; that is, in a case where he must either disobey God, or incur
some temporal disadvantage.
Again; he has learned to curb his temper and his tongue; but on some
unusual provocation they get the better of him. He becomes angry, says
what he should not, perhaps curses and swears. Are not all men subject
to be overtaken with anger or ill temper? that is not the point: the point
is this,—that he does not feel compunction afterward, he does not feel
he has done any thing which needs forgiveness. On the contrary, he defends
himself to himself, on the plea that such language is very unusual with
him; he does not understand that he is under a law, which he may not put
himself above, which he may not dispense with.
Once more; he is in general sober and temperate; but he joins a party
of friends and makes merry; he is tempted to exceed. Next day he says that
it is a long time since such a thing happened to him; it is not at all
his way; he hardly touches wine or the like in common. He does not understand
he has any sin to repent of, because it is but once in a way.
And now, I suppose, you quite understand what I mean, and I need not
say more in explanation. Such men, being thus indulgent to themselves,
are indulgent to each other; they make allowance for all around them, as
taking what they give freely. This is the secret of being friends with
the world, to have a sympathy and a share in its sins. They who are strict
with themselves are strict with the world; but where men grant themselves
a certain licence of disobedience, they do not draw the line very rigidly
as regards others. Conscious of what might be said against themselves,
they are cautious what they say against others; and they meet them on the
understanding of a mutual sufferance. They learn to say, that the private
habits of their neighbours are nothing to them; and they hold intercourse
with them only as public men, or members of society, or in the way of business,
not at all as with responsible beings having immortal souls. They desire
to see and know nothing but what is on the surface; and they call a man's
personal history sacred, because it is sinful. In their eyes, their sole
duty to their neighbour is, not to offend him; whatever his morals, whatever
his creed, is nothing to them. Such are they in mature and advanced life;
in youth, they are pliable as well as indulgent, they readily fall in with
the ways of the world, as they come across them. They are, and have the
praise of being, pleasant, good-tempered, and companionable. They are not
bad-principled, or evilly disposed, or flagrantly irregular, but they are
lax. They in no sense live by rule. They have high spirits, and all the
natural amiableness which youth has to show, and they generally go right;
but, since they have no root in themselves, an accident from within or
without, the stirring of a passion, or the incitement of a friend, makes
them swerve at once. They swerve, and they have little compunction afterwards;
they forget it. They shrink from the notion of being under a law, and think
religion gloomy as imposing it. They like their own way, and without any
great extreme of sin, or at least any habits of sin, follow it. They are
orderly and well-conducted, when among well-conducted people,—at home,
for instance; but they indulge themselves abroad, when temptation comes
in their way. They have the world at will; they are free; alas! what a
melancholy freedom! yet in one sense a freedom it is. A religious man must
withdraw his eyes from sights which inflame his heart, recollecting our
Saviour's caution; but a man of the world thinks it no harm to gaze where
he should not, because he goes no further. A religious man watches his
words; but the other utters whatever his heart prompts, and excuses himself
for profane language, on the plea that he means nothing by it. A religious
man will scruple about his society; but the other takes part in jests and
excesses, though he condemns while he shares them, but not himself for
sharing, and despises those with whom he shares them. He can see life,
as it is called. He can go among all sorts of people, for he has no troublesome
ceremonial, no rule of religion to shackle him. Perhaps he goes abroad,
and then for a time he considers himself to be in disguise, as an unknown
person in unknown countries, permitted to fall in with all things bad and
good, as they come. Or again, he may be so circumstanced, whatever his
station, as to find himself engaged in what are called politics; and then
he thinks that though truth and religion are certainly all-commanding and
all-important, yet still the world could not go on, public business would
be at a stand, political parties would be unable to act, all that he really
loves and reveres would become but of secondary concern, if religion refused
at all times to give way ever so little. Again; a religious man carries
his religion into his conduct throughout the day; but lax persons will
do many things in private, which they would not like to be known. They
will overreach, if they can do it without noise. They will break promises
when made to an inferior. Or, if they have time on their hands, they will
be curious and meddlesome; they will speak against others and spread scandals.
They will pry into things which do not concern them, according to their
station in life. They will listen where they have no right to listen; they
will read what they have no right to read. Or they will allow themselves
in petty thefts, where they think they do no injury, excusing themselves
on the plea that what they take will never be missed. Or in matters of
trade, they think a certain sort and degree of double-dealing allowable,
and no dishonesty. They argue with themselves as if it were not their business
to be true and just, but of others to find them out; and as if fraud and
cheating did not imply sin in the one party, but dulness in the other.
If in humble life, they think it no harm to put on an appearance; to profess
what is not strictly true, if they are to gain by it; to colour a story;
or to affect to be more religious than they are; or to pretend to agree
in religion with persons from whom they hope something; or to take up a
religion if it is their interest to do so; or to profess two or three religions
at once, when any alms or other benefit is to be given away.
These are a few out of a multitude of traits which mark an easy religion,—the
religion of the world; which would cast in its lot with Christian truth,
were not that truth so very strict, and quarrels with it and its upholders,
not as if it were not good and right, but because it is so unbending,—because
it will not suit itself to times and emergencies, and to the private and
occasional likings and tastes of individuals. This is the kind of religion
which St. Paul virtually warns us against, as often as he speaks of the
Gospel as really being a law and a servitude. He indeed glories in its
being such; for, as the happiness of all creatures lies in their performing
their parts well, where God has placed them, so man's greatest good lies
in obedience to God's law and in imitation of God's perfections. But the
Apostle knew that the world would not think so, and therefore he insists
on it. Therefore it is that he insists on the necessity of Christians "fulfilling
the righteousness of the law;" fulfilling it, because till we aim at complete,
unreserved obedience in all things, we are not really Christians at all.
Hence St. James says, "Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend
in one point, he is guilty of all." And our Saviour assures us that "Whosoever
shall break one of these least commandments, and shall teach men so, he
shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven;" and that "Except our righteousness
shall exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees," which was
thus partial and circumscribed, "we shall in no case enter into the kingdom
of heaven." And when the young man came to Him, saying that he had kept
all the commandments, and asking what he lacked, He pointed out the "one
thing" wanting in him; and when he would not complete his obedience by
that one thing, but went away sorrowful, then, as if all his obedience
in other points availed him nothing, Christ added, "Children, how hard
is it for them that trust in riches to enter into the Kingdom of God?"
[Rom. viii. 1-4. James ii. 10. Matt. v. 19, 20. Mark x. 21, 24.] Let us
not then deceive ourselves; what God demands of us is to fulfil His law,
or at least to aim at fulfilling it; to be content with nothing short of
perfect obedience,—to attempt every thing,—to avail ourselves of the aids
given us, and throw ourselves, not first, but afterwards on God's mercy
for our short-comings. This is, I know, at first hearing a startling doctrine;
and so averse are our hearts to it, that some men even attempt to maintain
that it is an unchristian doctrine. A forlorn expedient indeed, with the
Bible to refer to, and its statements about the strait gate and the narrow
way. Still men would fain avail themselves of it, if they could; they argue
that all enforcement of religion as a service or duty is erroneous, or
what they call legal, and that no observance is right but what proceeds
from impulse, or what they call the heart. They would fain prove that the
law is not binding on us, because Christ has fulfilled it; or because,
as is the case, faith would be accepted instead of obedience in those who
had not yet had time to begin fulfilling it.
Such persons appeal to Scripture, and they must be refuted, as is not
difficult, from Scripture; but the multitude of men do not take so much
trouble about the matter. Instead of even professing to discover what God
has said, they take what they call a common-sense view of it. They maintain
it is impossible that religion should really be so strict according to
God's design. They condemn the notion as over-strained and morose. They
profess to admire and take pleasure in religion as a whole, but think that
it should not be needlessly pressed in details, or, as they express it,
carried too far. They complain only of its particularity, if I may use
the term, or its want of indulgence and consideration in little things;
that is, in other words, they like religion before they have experience
of it,-in prospect,—at a distance,—till they have to be religious. They
like to talk of it, they like to see men religious; they think it commendable
and highly important; but directly religion comes home to them in real
particulars of whatever kind, they like it not. It suffices them to have
seen and praised it; they feel it a burden whenever they feel it at all,
whenever it calls upon them to do what otherwise they would not do. In
a word, the state of the multitude of men is this,—their hearts are going
the wrong way; and their real quarrel with religion, if they know themselves,
is not that it is strict, or engrossing, or imperative, not that it goes
too far, but that it is religion. It is religion itself which we all by
nature dislike, not the excess merely. Nature tends towards the earth,
and God is in heaven. If I want to travel north, and all the roads are
cut to the east, of course I shall complain of the roads. I shall find
nothing but obstacles; I shall have to surmount walls, and cross rivers,
and go round about, and after all fail of my end. Such is the conduct of
those who are not bold enough to give up a profession of religion, yet
wish to serve the world. They try to reach Babylon by roads which run to
Mount Sion. Do you not see that they necessarily must meet with thwartings,
crossings, disappointments, and failure? They go mile after mile, watching
in vain for the turrets of the city of Vanity, because they are on the
wrong road; and, unwilling to own what they are really seeking, they find
fault with the road as circuitous and wearisome. They accuse religion of
interfering with what they consider their innocent pleasures and wishes.
But religion is a bondage only to those who have not the heart to like
it, who are not cast into its mould. Accordingly, in the verse before the
text, St. Paul thanks God that his brethren had "obeyed from the heart
that form of teaching, into which they had been delivered." We Christians
are cast into a certain mould. So far as we keep within it, we are not
sensible that it is a mould, or has an outline. It is when our hearts would
overflow in some evil direction, then we discover that we are confined,
and consider ourselves in prison. It is the law in our members warring
against the law of the Spirit which brings us into a distressing bondage.
Let us then see where we stand, and what we must do. Heaven cannot change;
God is "without variableness or shadow of turning." His "word endureth
for ever in heaven." His law is from everlasting to everlasting. We must
change. We must go over to the side of heaven. Never had a soul true happiness
but in conformity to God, in obedience to His will. We must become what
we are not; we must learn to love what we do not love, and practise ourselves
in what is difficult. We must have the law of the Spirit of life written
and set up in our hearts, "that the righteousness of the law may be fulfilled
in us," and that we may learn to please and to love God.
Lastly, as some men defend their want of strictness on what they consider
the authority of Scripture, and others, that is, the majority, try to persuade
themselves that religion cannot really be strict, whatever strong expressions
or statements may be found in Scripture, others again there are, who take
a more candid, but a more daring course. Instead of making excuses, such
as I have been considering, they frankly admit the fact, and then go on
to urge it as a valid argument against religion altogether. Instead of
professing to like religion, all but its service, they boldly object that
religion is altogether unnatural, and therefore cannot be incumbent on
us. They say that it is very well for its ministers and teachers to set
up a high doctrine, but that men are men, and the world is the world, and
that life was not meant to be a burden, and that God sent us here for enjoyment,
and that He will never punish us hereafter for following the law of our
nature. I answer, doubtless this life was meant to be enjoyment; but why
not a rejoicing in the Lord? We were meant to follow the law of our nature;
but why of our old nature, why not of our new? Were we indeed in the state
of our first nature, under the guilt and defilement of our birth-sin, then
this argument might be urged speciously, though not conclusively of course
then; but how does it apply to Christians? Now that God has opened the
doors of our prison-house, and brought us into the kingdom of His Son,
if men are still carnal men, and the world a sinful world, and the life
of Angels a burden, and the law of our nature not the law of God, whose
fault is it?
We Christians are indeed under the law as other men, but, as I have
already said, it is the new law, the law of the Spirit of Christ. We are
under grace. That law, which to nature is a grievous bondage, is to those
who live under the power of God's presence, what it was meant to be, a
rejoicing. When then we feel reluctant to serve God, when thoughts rise
within us as if He were a hard Master, and that His promises are not attractive
enough to balance the strictness of His commandments, let us recollect
that we, as being Christians, are not in the flesh, but in the Spirit,
and let us act upon the conviction of it. Let us go to Him for grace. Let
us seek His face. Let us come where He gives grace. Let us come to the
ordinances of grace, in which Christ gives His Holy Spirit, to enable us
to do that which by nature we cannot do, and to be "the servants of righteousness."
They who pray for His saving help to change their likings and dislikings,
their tastes, their views, their wills, their hearts, do not indeed all
at once gain what they seek;—they do not gain it at once asking;—they do
not perceive they gain it while they gain it,—but if they come continually
day by day to Him,—if they come humbly,—if they come in faith,—if they
come, not as a trial how they shall like God's service, but throwing (as
far as may be) their whole hearts and souls into their duty as a sacrifice
to Him,—if they come, not seeking a sign, but determined to go on seeking
Him, honouring Him, serving Him, trusting Him, whether they see light,
or feel comfort, or discern their growth, or no,—such men will gain, though
they know it not; they will find, even while they are still seeking; before
they call, He will answer them, and they will in the end find themselves
saved wondrously, to their surprise, how they know not, and when their
crown seemed at a distance. "They that wait on the lord," says the Prophet,
"shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles;
they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint." [Isaiah
xl. 31.]
Copyright © 2000 by Bob Elder. All rights reserved.
Used with permission. See the Newman website:
http://www.newmanreader.org/index.html
