Romans 7:7-13

 

In the first verses of Romans 7, Paul built this picture—that death brings with it a certain liberation, a certain release from the bondages and restriction of life. If we could die and yet still live, it would bring freedom and release—that is why people are so fascinated by the idea of amnesia, which functionally means dying to an old life and beginning a new one; that is why the Biblical language of being born again has attracted people and has been used even by those who are not Christians.

This whole theme of death and resurrection has already been used in Romans; specifically in the beginning of Romans 6. But Romans 7 is not merely repeating Romans 6. In Romans 6, Paul pictures the Christian as dying to sin and a life of sin. Our old man, our old life, our manner of existence is crucified with Christ so that we might be free from sin.

But in Romans 7, Paul speaks of being dead to the law. And that is why there is something initially a little odd about Romans 7. Suppose a man were making a speech to a group of convicts, trying to help them reform. If he said they needed to stop caring about their old criminal ways, that would make sense. If he said they needed to stop caring about the law, you might think it just a little odd. And certainly, the Bible makes it clear that, even for the Christian, there is a place for the law, for commands, restrictions, promises, and warnings.

Paul ended our last section with these words: “For when we were in the flesh, the motions of sins, which were by the law, did work in our members to bring forth fruit unto death. But now we are delivered from the law, that being dead wherein we were held; that we should serve in newness of spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter.” (Romans 7:5-6)

Notice the way in which the law is characterized here; it is connected to sin and we are spoken of as being delivered from it. Clearly, something of a negative picture.

Contrast that with Psalm 1:2: “But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.” And the Old Testament, and especially the psalms, is full of this kind of language. When we read this, when we read of the delight and almost intoxication in the law of God, we have to remember that this isn't talking about John 3:16—it isn't talking about the New Testament. While I do think it is proper to apply these verses to the entire Bible, the men who actually wrote them were thinking of the Old Testament and, in many cases, specifically the first five books--the law.

The Jewish concern for the law is often seen as a negative thing--some of the Jews cared more about the law of God than they did about God. But even proper, orthodox Judaism had this element, as we see in the Old Testament.

So, given this feeling, obviously, the Jews were going to be very upset at Paul for seeming to throw shade on the law. And even though the Gentiles did not have the Jewish law, Gentile Christians seem to have been knowledgeable of it as well, since, in the early days of the Church, that was all the Bible they had. And so while they may not have shared the Jewish feelings about the law, they still would be confused and troubled by Paul's language here. That is why Paul clarifies exactly where the problem really lies.

Once again, Paul begins by asking and then answering a question, as if responding to an opponent. Is the law sinful? In the first part of Romans 7, Paul spoke of deliverance through death, almost like a man so anxious to hide from his enemy that he would fake his own death. So, then, is the law the enemy? Paul's answer is a resounding negative. Verse 12 summarizes Paul's view of God's law and fills as if it could have fitted very comfortably in Psalm 119. God's law is holy, just, and good. So then why did Paul use the language he did in the first part of Romans 7? If the law is so good, why would we need to die to it?

To answer it, Paul uses himself as an illustration. This is one of the controversial parts of Romans; there are some who do not believe that Paul is talking about himself in these verses but is rather speaking for the entire Jewish religion or even the entire human race. That interpretation is possible, but all other things being equal, it seems more probable that this is the personal testimony of Paul's past, though the whole point is that it does have a universal application. 

There was a time before he knew the law, a time before he studied or read God's word. And when he was alive without the law, then sin was dead. As Paul already established in Romans 4:15, without a law, without a knowledge of right and wrong, there can be no sin. “Whosoever committeth sin transgresseth also the law: for sin is the transgression of the law.” (1 John 3:4) That last phrase can be translated: “Sin is lawlessness”; it is an active opposition to or disregard for the law.

This brings us back to a principle we met with earlier in Romans—knowledge brings responsibility. The Gentiles had a limited knowledge of God's law and therefore they were responsible for keeping it and were guilty for having broken it. The Jews had a greater knowledge of God's law and therefore had a greater responsibility to keep it and a greater guilt for breaking it.

 You cannot have an error in a computer program if you don't have a computer program. You cannot have a misprint without printing. You cannot have the wrong answer to a math problem without math. And you cannot have sin without the law. The law—a knowledge of what is right and wrong—is the thing that allows for the existence of moral decisions and therefore moral failure. Without at least some knowledge of the law, sin and virtue would both be impossible. That is why we do not call animals sinful, even though animals can be terribly destructive; because whatever degree of moral knowledge an animal can possess is much less than that of a human. That is why young children are referred to as innocent, even though they clearly possess the capacity for sin because their degree of moral knowledge is less than that of an adult.

So we have our first stage of Paul's history. I was alive; sin was dead. And then the law entered the picture. And then sin revived, and I died.

The picture is something like this. Imagine a man trapped in a dark room with a dangerous animal. He can hear it moving around and so knows something is there, but in the darkness, he can't know exactly what or where it is. But then suddenly the lights are turned on and with the light, the animal springs on him. That is verse 11: “Sin, taking occasion by the commandment, deceived me, and by it slew me.” Sin only becomes operative in the presence of the law. 

But we need to note that here it is not the law in general, or even the Jewish law in particular, but one specific law. For Paul, at least, it was a particular part of the law that was the pivot. It was the tenth commandment: Thou shalt not covet.

Paul speaks elsewhere of the carefulness of his life during this period. In Philippians 3:6, he says that he was blameless “touching the righteousness which is in the law.” He was to all appearances a good man--and yet there was something inside him that did not conform to the law's standard, something which was rebuked by the law. Even though Paul might have seemed perfect to those around him, when he looked at the law, he knew he was a sinner.

That is what the law does: it defines sin; it shows the line between good and evil; it rebukes and condemns sin. And that is partly why freedom from the law and freedom from sin can be put together. I said earlier that it would be odd if someone told a reformed convict to stop worrying about the law. But there is a sense in which that would make sense—an honest man has nothing more to do with the law, at least, with the side of the law which condemns and punishes crime. Prison is one of the few places where it would be polite to tell someone: “I hope you never come back.” 

Suppose that a man wanted to protect his yard from trespassers and so ran electric wires along the inside of his wooden fence, to give anyone a shock if they climbed over it. You might live next store to that man for your whole life and never even know that the fence was electrified so long as you never tried to trespass. The law is only active in the presence of sin. That is why Paul says in 1 Timothy 1:9 that “the law is not made for a righteous man, but for the lawless and disobedient.”

But only does the law reveal sin, but that revelation can enflame sin. Paul ends this section with these words: “that sin by the commandment might become exceeding sinful.” The law reveals the presence of sin even by sin's reaction to the law; it smokes it out of cover. If you pour vinegar on limestone it will create a chemical reaction that you can both see and hear—if you want to know if there is limestone in some rocks, you can pour vinegar on it, and then you will know. That is what the law does.

That is why sometimes the presence of the law can seem to make the problem of sin worse. This is purely speculation, but some have suggested that Paul's zeal in persecuting Christians was a result of his knowledge of his own internal failure--that because he knew, deep down, that he was guilty before the law, he tried to compensate by being fiercer towards others who broke the law. 

But, of course, the problem here is with sin, not with the law. A doctor examining a broken bone may cause the patient greater pain, but the doctor did not (in most cases, anyway) break the bone. He merely examines it and he examines it to cure it. The law may reveal and even intensify sin, but the law did not create sin--God gave the law for the purpose that, in the end, it would lead to the cure for sin.