Introduction

I remember reading an anecdote in Reader’s Digest a number of years ago entitled, “Keeping the Faith.” A Roman Catholic priest told of his encounter with a mugger in a dark alley—in back of the church at Notre Dame. As the priest was making his way down the alley to his parked car, a man suddenly emerged from the shadows, thrusting the muzzle of a revolver into his ribs demanding, “Hand me your wallet!”

Offering no word of protest, the priest immediately began to comply. As he reached into his inside pocket, his clerical collar became evident in the dim light, catching the robber off guard. “Are you a priest?” he exclaimed. “Yes, I am,” the priest replied. “Oh, I don’t rob priests,” the thief responded, “I’m Catholic, too.”

Greatly relieved, the priest withdrew a cigar from his inside pocket and offered it to the penitent thief. “Oh, no!” I can’t do that,” the thief exclaimed, “I’ve given them up for Lent.” This thief was a man with convictions, which he refused to violate.

We all have our convictions. Sometimes others may wonder about them, and sometimes our convictions may be detrimental to others. Personal convictions are very important to the apostle Paul. Three chapters are devoted to this subject in 1 Corinthians (chapters 8-10) and nearly two chapters to this same subject in Romans (14:1-15:13). In the vitally important application chapters of Romans (12-15), no subject is dealt with in greater detail than our convictions concerning Christian liberties.

The Text in Context

Paul began his argument in the Book of Romans by showing all men to be sinners, deserving of God’s eternal wrath and without hope of attaining righteousness and God’s blessings by human effort (1:18–3:20). After declaring man’s sin and condemnation, Paul explained God’s way of salvation in Romans 3:21–4:25. God has provided forgiveness by sending His Son to die for our sins, bearing our punishment in our place. He offers His righteousness to us, so that we may enter into God’s presence and blessings. We cannot earn this forgiveness and righteousness; we can only receive it as a gift, by faith, by trusting in Jesus as our Savior.

As Christians, we now have hope—the hope of our future blessing and even a hope in the midst of present suffering and distress. We have this hope knowing that all the adverse effects of Adam’s sin have been overruled and overcome by Jesus Christ. Those who are “in Christ” by faith need not fear the condemnation of those who are “in Adam” (Romans 5).

Being saved by faith requires a new lifestyle. We can no longer continue to live in sin as we once did. We must die to sin and live to righteousness, for when we were joined with Christ by faith we died to sin and were raised to newness of life, in Him (Romans 6). Our good intentions do not make us holy. We are just as powerless to be righteous as Christians as we were before our salvation. Our flesh is weak and subject to sin’s power (Romans 7). Our deadness to good deeds is overcome by the Holy Spirit, who dwells within each Christian. By walking in dependence upon Him, and in obedience to God’s Word, we fulfill God’s requirements. As sons of God, we have the Spirit of God dwelling within us. He strengthens and sustains us as we continue to live in this fallen, imperfect world, assuring us of the hope of our full and final deliverance from sin and its effects (Romans 8).

God’s promises to Israel have not been forgotten or forsaken, even though many Gentiles have trusted in Christ and many Jews have rejected Him. God has faithfully preserved a remnant of believing Israelites, preserving the hope of Israel. Because the Jews refused to be a blessing for all nations by their obedience, God has used their disobedience to bring the gospel to the Gentiles. The preaching of the gospel to the Gentiles is not contrary to God’s promise to bless Israel. Rather, it serves to provoke the Jews to jealousy. When God has completed His purpose of saving many Gentiles, He will once again turn to His people, Israel, to bless them with salvation. Then He will have shown mercy to all men (Romans 9-11).

In the meantime, we are to live righteously, not out of fear but out of sincere gratitude for God’s mercy and grace. Our gratitude should be expressed by worshipful service to God. Our worship is expressed by our sacrificial service, performed through our mortal bodies, once dominated by sin and self-interest (Romans 12:1-2).

Our service is divinely empowered. The Holy Spirit has endued each and every Christian with special abilities, spiritual gifts, which we are to employ for the benefit of others.

Christians are to “walk in the Spirit” (8:4) and also to “walk in love” (see 14:15). Love motivates us to flee evil and to pursue what is good. This “good” includes not only our brother in Christ but our enemy (12:9-21). In addition to the inward motivation of love, which inclines us toward good and away from evil, we have the external influence of human government. Human government is God’s divinely ordained means for rewarding those who do good or for punishing evil-doers (13:1-7).

Love and law are not enemies. They are not opposed to each other. Love “fulfills the law” (13:8-10). Far from the worldly definitions of love, Christian love denies fleshly lusts, choosing to live now in the light of eternity (13:11-14).

Love fulfills the law, but it goes beyond the law as well. Love not only prompts us to fulfill the law, it guides and governs us in those areas of conduct not governed by law—the areas we shall call personal convictions. Romans 14:1–15:13 is Paul’s explanation of how love should govern the exercise of our Christian liberties. Where law has no guidance, love does. I have therefore chosen the title “Love and Liberty” for this section.

An Overview of Romans 14:1–15:13

I understand our text to have four major divisions (14:1-12; 14:13-23; 15:1-3; 15:4-13). The first two divisions, in chapter 14, are more negative in nature. The last two, in chapter 15, are positive. This is because love is both negative and positive in its manifestations. “Love does no wrong to a neighbor” (Romans 13:10; see also 13:9). It also seeks to do what is good and “right in the sight of all men” (12:9-21).

In chapter 14, Paul focuses on the negative outworkings of love. Love does not judge others concerning their convictions in the area of Christian liberty (14:1-12). Beyond this, love prevents me from exercising what is, for me, a liberty when this would cause a weaker brother to stumble (14:13-23).

In chapter 15, the positive outworkings of love are described in relationship to Christian liberties. Those who have liberty, who are strong, will employ their strength in serving the weak and in bearing their infirmities, rather than seeking to please themselves (15:1-3). In so doing, Christian unity is practiced and preserved, thereby facilitating the harmonious praise of God (15:4-13).

Four pictures sum up the message of this vitally important section of Scripture. These pictures are like symbolic traffic signs. The first picture is a circle, with a judge’s gavel in the center and a diagonal line passing through it—No judging! The second picture is a circle with three feet in the center. One foot is tripping the other two. There is a diagonal line through this circle—No tripping! We are not to be the cause of our weaker brother’s stumbling.

The third picture is a circle with a crutch in the center. There is no diagonal line. We are to help bear up our weaker brother in his infirmity. Pleasing is required! The fourth picture is a circle with a choir in the center. The faces are those of men and women, Jews and Gentiles, rich and poor, all singing praises to God in unity and harmony! Harmonious praise is certain, in eternity.

Our Approach in This Lesson

The written exposition of Paul’s teaching on love and liberty will be in two parts. In this first lesson, we will consider Paul’s teaching in Romans 14; the theme of this chapter is “Liberties Love Will Not Take.” In our next lesson, we will study Romans 15:1-13 where the emphasis is positive: “What Love Will Do.”

Defining Personal Convictions

Our Romans text deals with the matter of Christian convictions. Although the term “conviction” is found only once in Romans 14 (verse 22), the expression “personal convictions” best describes the areas of difference among Christians which threaten the unity of the church at Rome. To understand Paul’s teaching in our text, we must first have a general idea of the problem he is addressing; thus we must understand what convictions are. Briefly outlined are some of the characteristics of convictions, especially as they relate to our text.

(1) Convictions are strongly held beliefs. According to Webster a conviction is, “a strong persuasion or belief.”⁹³ In our text, Paul urges each of his readers to be “fully convinced in his own mind” (14:5). Convictions are beliefs which are held with conviction.

In the overall complex of our belief structure, we need to recognize the place convictions play. Consider the following spectrum or hierarchy of beliefs, as I understand them:

• Prejudices: Men are better drivers than women.
• Opinions: President Bush was right to declare war against Iraq.
• Theories: Taking vitamin C reduces one’s chance of getting sick.
• Convictions: The rapture will come before the great tribulation. As a Christian, I should not drink wine. Or, as a Christian, I am free to drink wine, in moderation.
• Knowledge or Understanding: Area = length times width.
• Biblical Doctrine or Theology: God is omniscient—He knows all.
• Biblical Principles: Whatever is not of faith is sin.
• Biblical Statements: “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23).
• Biblical Commands: “Flee from idolatry” (1 Corinthians 10:14)

(2) The convictions of which Paul speaks are behavioral beliefs.⁹⁴ In Romans and 1 Corinthians, convictions are beliefs which govern our behavior. Convictions here are not as much a decision concerning what is true as a decision about what we should or should not do. Our convictions determine whether we will or will not eat meat, drink wine, or observe certain holidays.

(3) Convictions, by their very nature, are inferential. Convictions are not necessary concerning murder. Murder is sin.⁹⁵ It is also against the law, whether God’s Law or man’s. Convictions are conclusions we reach when there are no hard and fast answers, no moral absolutes. Almost always, these convictions are inferential—the extension of certain beliefs we hold to be true and pertinent to a given circumstance or choice.

(4) Christian convictions do not define what is “right” and “wrong.” God’s Word defines what is right and what is wrong. Biblical revelation is not a matter of personal discretion.⁹⁶ It is not a conviction to believe that murder is evil or that loving our enemy is good. Convictions take up where biblical revelation and human law leave off. Convictions determine what my conduct should be in those areas not specifically prescribed by Scripture. My convictions draw the line between what I will do and what I will not do as an exercise of Christian liberty.

Convictions reach the conclusions of “should” and “should not.” The question is not so much, “Can I do this or that?” but “Should I do this or that?” In Hebrews, we are told:

Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance, and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us (Hebrews 12:1).

Further, Paul writes in 1 Corinthians:

All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything (1 Corinthians 6:12).

Within the category of “all things which are lawful,” there are things which do not contribute to my own spiritual life and growth or that of others. Even though I “could” do some of these things, I may decide I “should” not do them—not because they are evil, but because they do not promote what is good.⁹⁷ I believe these decisions fall into the category of my convictions.

(5) Christian convictions are matters of conscience.⁹⁸ Convictions are the result of the interaction of several factors. One factor is knowledge—a grasp of biblical teaching and doctrine. Another is that of conscience, our “inner umpire” which causes us to feel either guilt or moral affirmation.

However not all men have this knowledge; but some, being accustomed to the idol until now, eat food as if it were sacrificed to an idol; and their conscience being weak is defiled (1 Corinthians 8:7).

(6) Christian convictions are matters of faith. Knowledge and conscience are factors which determine our convictions. Faith also plays a vital role in our convictions. We should only practice those liberties we can do in faith. If we doubt (the opposite of faith), we are condemned by doing what our conscience does not approve.

The faith which you have, have as your own conviction before God. Happy is he who does not condemn himself in what he approves. But he who doubts is condemned if he eats, because his eating is not from faith; and whatever is not from faith is sin (Romans 14:22-23).

The strength or weakness of our faith greatly influences our convictions (see Romans 14:1-2). Since this may be the measure of faith given by God,⁹⁹ there is no indictment of those whose faith is weak nor commendation of those whose faith is strong.

(7) Christian convictions are a reflection of one’s strength or weakness. Christian convictions differ, in part, according to the strength or weakness of the individual who holds them. In Romans 14 and 15, Paul distinguishes between those who are weak in faith (14:1-2) and those who are strong (14:2; 15:1). In 1 Corinthians, Paul refers to the brother whose conscience is weak (8:7).

How is one believer weak and the other strong? How is one weak? How is another strong?” Two areas are suggested. First, one may be weak in his understanding and grasp of the gospel.¹⁰⁰ Second, one may also be weak in the strength of his convictions. The brother who is weak regarding the strength of his convictions is more likely to cave in to peer pressure and to do what his faith does not endorse and his conscience condemns.

The “weaker brother,” then, is not the one who simply disagrees with what I do, or who gets upset by my freedom; the weaker brother is the one who is likely to imitate me in what I do, violating his own conscience and convictions. The weaker brother is the one more likely to sin because he gives in to another’s convictions rather than living by his own.

(8) Christian convictions concern those practices which, in and of themselves, neither contribute to our spirituality nor take away from it. Neither doing nor abstaining from the practices Paul mentions commend us before God. We are not spiritually strengthened by eating meat, but by God’s grace (Hebrews 13:9). Neither does abstinence make us more spiritual (Colossians 2:20-23). Both the legalist and the libertine tend to err here.

(9) In our text, Paul does not talk about convictions in general but of convictions concerning Christian liberties. Christian liberties are those practices the Christian is free to engage in, those practices which are not identified as sin. These are not “gray” matters, but practices God has granted us freedom to enjoy, if we can do so with a clear conscience.

(10) Christian convictions are private and personal. Convictions are those decisions about Christian liberties which each person holds and practices before God. They are private and personal. Our convictions should not be the subject of criticism or debate, nor should we seek to impose our convictions on others (see Romans 14:22 above, also 14:5-9). Nowhere does Paul seek to shape or change the convictions of another. Our convictions may change as we mature, but God is the One who achieves this in the heart of His children through the work of His Spirit.

(11) While the possession of one’s convictions is personal and private, the practice of liberties is not. The exercise of our convictions may be either beneficial or detrimental to others. Therefore, while we are urged to hold our convictions firmly, we are not urged to practice every liberty which our convictions allow.

(12) Christian convictions are necessary because of the grace of God. The grace of God has been an emphasis of Paul’s teaching in Romans. Opposed to the principle of grace is that of works or legalism. Legalism has a rule for every occasion. A study of Judaism in the time of our Lord reveals how the Judaizers distorted the Old Testament Law so that, interpreted and applied by them, the Law became nothing but an intricate system of rules.¹⁰¹ No decisions had to be made about what was right or wrong; for virtually any situation, there was a rule.

Grace is different. Righteousness is not a matter of external rules nor even of external compliance to them (see Luke 16:15). Grace starts with the heart (see also, Mark 7:14-23). Grace first motivates men to obey God. Grace gives men choices to make out of a desire to please God. Paul would have had no need to write the text we are studying were it not for the grace of God.

No Judging (14:1-12)

Now accept the one who is weak in faith, but not for the purpose of passing judgment on his opinions. One man has faith that he may eat all things, but he who is weak eats vegetables only. Let not him who eats regard with contempt him who does not eat, and let not him who does not eat judge him who eats, for God has accepted him. Who are you to judge the servant of another? To his own master he stands or falls; and stand he will, for the Lord is able to make him stand. One man regards one day above another, another regards every day alike. Let each man be fully convinced in his own mind. He who observes the day, observes it for the Lord, and he who eats, does so for the Lord, for he gives thanks to God; and he who eats not, for the Lord he does not eat, and gives thanks to God. For not one of us lives for himself, and not one dies for himself; for if we live, we live for the Lord, or if we die, we die for the Lord; therefore whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s. For to this end Christ died and lived again, that He might be Lord both of the dead and of the living. But you, why do you judge your brother? Or you again, why do you regard your brother with contempt? For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of God. For it is written, “AS I LIVE, SAYS THE LORD, EVERY KNEE SHALL BOW TO ME, AND EVERY TONGUE SHALL GIVE PRAISE TO GOD.” So then each one of us shall give account of himself to God.

Verse 1 clearly lays down the point of the paragraph. The weaker brother is to be welcomed into the fellowship of the saints, but not so that he might be harassed about his personal convictions.

We must keep several things in mind as we consider this command.

(1) Paul is speaking to Christians about their relationship to other Christians.

(2) Paul is speaking about personal convictions concerning Christian liberties.¹⁰²

(3) The strong believers have more faith and a greater grasp of grace and Christian liberty. Those who are weak are weak in faith and therefore fail to grasp the full implications of the work of Christ. The weaker saints are inclined to be legalistic. The weaker saints tend to be those who think they cannot do what God’s Word allows.

(4) While the strong and the weak differ over their convictions, both are tempted to think too highly of themselves, looking down upon their brother and passing judgment on his convictions.

(5) Differences in their convictions concerning Christian liberty seems to have created strife and dissension in the church. There seems to be a problem of disunity at Rome, as is evident elsewhere as well, such as in Corinth. Corinth, you will recall, is the city from which Romans was penned.

(6) While differences in personal convictions should never cause Christians to separate from one another, there are a few good reasons for separation. There are times when Christians are to exclude professing Christians from fellowship. Church discipline, due to persistent, willful sin, divisiveness, or false teaching is one such time (see Matthew 18:15-20; 1 Corinthians 5; 2 Thessalonians 3:6-15; Titus 3:9-11; 2 John 7-11). Paul himself calls for separation from those who would call themselves Christians in his closing words in this Epistle to the Romans:

Now I urge you, brethren, keep your eye on those who cause dissensions and hindrances contrary to the teaching which you learned, and turn away from them. For such men are slaves, not of our Lord Christ but of their own appetites; and by their smooth and flattering speech they deceive the hearts of the unsuspecting (Romans 16:17-18).

When it comes to differences in convictions, Paul would have us know this is not an acceptable basis for excluding a brother from fellowship.

Paul provides two illustrations of differing convictions in verses 1-12 of chapter 14: eating meat (14:2) and the observance of certain holidays (14:5). The meat-eater is the stronger believer while the vegetarian is weaker. Both the strong and the weak are tempted to sin against their brother. The danger for the strong believer is to look upon his weaker brother with contempt: “How could he be so shallow in his grasp of God’s grace and of Christian liberty?” The weaker brother stands in danger of condemning his stronger brother for his liberty in Christ: “How could he be so liberal? Does he not believe in separation?”

Both of these brothers, the strong and the weak, are represented as judging the other. Both are looking down on each other, while at the same time thinking too highly of themselves. Paul offers several reasons why judging our brother concerning his convictions is evil.

First, judging a brother because of his convictions is an offense against God. Judging is wrong because it takes God’s place as the One who is each man’s judge: “Who are you to judge the servant of another? To his own master he stands or falls” (14:4). It is also wrong because the man who judges sets himself above God’s Law. Convictions deal with those freedoms which the Law allows. Thus, in judging a man’s convictions, we become judges of the Law, setting standards even the Law refuses to establish (see James 4:11).

In this context, judging our brother goes even further. It either ignores God’s verdict or sets it aside. God, the Judge of all mankind, has accepted every person who comes to Him by faith in Christ. When we refuse to accept a fellow-believer, one whom God has accepted, we act contrary to God Himself. How dare we refuse to accept one whom He has accepted?

God’s acceptance goes beyond this. He who began the good work is also He who will complete it (Philippians 1:6). When we pronounce judgment on a fellow-believer, we are pronouncing his downfall. Paul reminds us that he will surely stand, “for the Lord is able to make him stand” (14:4). Judging our brother concerning his convictions is a most serious error on our part, an act of rebellion against God and His gospel. While the matter over which we differ may be insignificant, the manner in which we differ, judging, is most significant.

Second, judging our brother is wrong because we are distracted from paying attention to our own convictions and conduct before God. In verses 3 and 4, Paul focuses on our sin in judging a fellow-believer, showing that it is not our role to serve as our brother’s judge, but God’s. Now in verses 5-12, Paul places the spotlight where it should be—on our own convictions, not our brother’s. Tending to our brother’s business causes us to neglect our own. Paul clearly teaches us here to mind our own business.

“Let each man be fully convinced in his own mind,” Paul urges. After citing his second example of differing convictions in the first half of verse 5, Paul now urges each Christian to expend his energy in considering his own convictions, rather than those of his brother. If convictions are not a legitimate matter for public scrutiny and debate, they are a most important consideration in our personal walk with God. Convictions are private matters, between each Christian and his God, whether one exercises a liberty or refrains from it:

He who observes the day, observes it for the Lord, and he who eats, does so for the Lord, for he gives thanks to God; and he who eats not, for the Lord he does not eat, and gives thanks to God. For not one of us lives for himself, and not one dies for himself; for if we live, we live for the Lord, or if we die, we die for the Lord; therefore whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s (14:6-8, emphasis mine).

Nothing could be more clear or more emphatic: convictions are not a matter of public scrutiny and debate; they are a private matter between each believer and God. The important thing is not whether we do or do not practice a given liberty, but whether in exercising or refraining from our liberty we do so as to the Lord.

With these words, Paul redirects our focus. Cease from judging your brother, and concentrate on examining yourself. Jesus is Lord, Lord of both “the dead and of the living” (14:9). Whether by living or by dying, we should do so as to the Lord. Paul was not speaking in purely theoretical terms. Shortly, he would be informed that going to Jerusalem would mean “bonds and afflictions” for him (see Acts 20:22-24). Later, when Paul was imprisoned and awaiting the outcome of his trial before Caesar, death was a very real possibility. Listen to Paul’s words to the Philippians which exemplify the attitude he calls for in our text in Romans:

For I know that this shall turn out for my deliverance through your prayers and the provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, according to my earnest expectation and hope, that I shall not be put to shame in anything, but that with all boldness, Christ shall even now, as always, be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain (Philippians 1:19-21).

Why this emphasis on life and death, living and dying (see verses 7-9)? Because this makes Paul’s teaching all-encompassing. Life and death circumscribe the whole of life—nothing lies outside these boundaries. Therefore, nothing we do, or choose not to do, lies outside the realm of our service to God.

Further, I am not convinced that when Paul speaks of “living” and “dying” his words are intended to be restricted to literal life and death. Paul has made much of our death to sin, in Christ, and our new way of life as Christians, in Him (see Romans 6). The deeds of the flesh must be mortified, put to death, and we must live so as to “put on the Lord Jesus Christ” (see Romans 13:11-14).

Judging our brother in the matter of his personal convictions is wrong. It condemns the one God has justified; it refuses to receive the one God has accepted; it doubts the survival and sanctification of a brother whose ultimate standing has been accomplished and assured by God. Yet one more blow must be struck against a judgmental spirit in the church stemming from differing convictions. This blow is dealt in verses 10-12: we who would judge a brother should not overlook that full and final judgment comes when each of us stands before God, where we must give account for our own convictions and conduct.

Paul rebukes both the “strong” and the “weak” in verse 10 for judging his brother. The “strong” looks on the “weak” with contempt. The “weak” condemns the “strong” for the exercise of liberties he cannot accept. Both need to be reminded that God is the Judge, and before Him each of us will stand and give account.

Isaiah 45:23 is cited in verse 11. To those familiar with Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians (Philippians 2:10-11), these words are not new.¹⁰³ They are a solemn reminder of the account each of us must give to God for our attitudes and actions. How could we be so preoccupied with judging others, which is not our task or calling, when we will all have to stand before God as our judge? Since we must each give account of ourselves, let us take heed to our own convictions, and cease judging our brother.

No Tripping (14:13-23)

13 Therefore let us not judge one another anymore, but rather determine this—not to put an obstacle or a stumbling block in a brother’s way. 14 I know and am convinced in the Lord Jesus that nothing is unclean in itself; but to him who thinks anything to be unclean, to him¹⁰⁴ it is unclean. 15 For if because of food your brother is hurt, you are no longer walking according to love. Do not destroy with your food him for whom Christ died. 16 Therefore do not let what is for you a good thing be spoken of as evil; 17 for the kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. 18 For he who in this way serves Christ is acceptable to God and approved by men. 19 So then let us pursue the things which make for peace and the building up of one another. 20 Do not tear down the work of God for the sake of food. All things indeed are clean, but they are evil for the man who eats and gives offense. 21 It is good not to eat meat or to drink wine, or to do anything by which your brother stumbles. 22 The faith which you have, have as your own conviction before God. Happy is he who does not condemn himself in what he approves. 23 But he who doubts is condemned if he eats, because his eating is not from faith; and whatever is not from faith is sin.

Verse 13 brings a distinct shift in focus. In verses 1-12, Paul calls for Christians to give up pronouncing judgment on the convictions of their brother, because such judgment is wrong. In verses 13-23, he calls for the obedient Christian to give up the practice of any liberty which would be detrimental to a brother. Paul thus moves from “no judging” to “no tripping.”

How Love Responds to a Weaker Brother (14:13-18)

Paul begins verse 13 by underscoring the main thrust of the first 12 verses. Stop judging your brother.¹⁰⁵ Ceasing from this practice is not enough. Paul presses his reader to replace this detrimental practice with a beneficial one. We are to “determine¹⁰⁶ not to put an obstacle or stumbling block in a brother’s way.”

We dare not contribute to the downfall of a brother in Christ. What does Paul mean by “putting an obstacle or a stumbling block in a brother’s way” (verse 13)? He means we are not to exercise any liberty which encourages a weaker Christian to sin by following our example and thereby violating his own conscience.

Paul has chosen his words carefully, and rightly so. Some Christians may disagree with our convictions. They may very well be upset that we have acted as we have. But unless these Christians are so weak that they follow our example, and thus violate their own convictions, they are not the “weaker brother” to whom Paul is referring. If I am fully convinced it is right to eat meat, and I do so in front of some believers, they might be upset by my actions, but they will not do as I have done. A weaker brother is one who thinks it is wrong to eat meat, but who does so because he has seen me do so, thus violating his own convictions. When the exercise of my liberty causes a weaker brother to stumble, I have sinned in exercising my liberty, even though it is consistent with my own convictions.

In verse 14 Paul pauses to clarify why the exercise of my Christian liberty is sinful for me if it causes a brother to stumble. It is not because of any uncleanness in the act itself. Christian liberties are clean.¹⁰⁷ There is no defilement in their exercise. But to the one whose conscience forbids the practice of a certain liberty, this practice becomes evil. It becomes evil only because he thinks it is evil, and thus it is something he cannot do in faith.

Be sure to note that what Paul says one way, he does not reverse. If we think a certain matter of liberty is wrong, then for us it is wrong—because we cannot do so in faith. Merely thinking something is right does not make it right. Committing adultery is always wrong, no matter whether I think it is right or not. Thinking something is right does not make it right, but thinking something is wrong does make it wrong, for me.

In verse 15, Paul lays down two powerful arguments which support his teaching that one should surrender any liberty when it harms a brother. Two standards are set down to govern our conduct. The first is the standard of love. Love, as Paul has already said, “does no wrong to a neighbor” (13:10). Walking in love does not allow me to harm my brother by letting my liberty be the cause of his stumbling.

The second standard is that set by our Lord Himself at Calvary: We dare not allow our liberty to destroy a brother whom Christ died to save. Paul sets before us the dramatic contrast between the outcome of our self-indulgence and that of Christ’s ultimate self-sacrifice. By demanding to exercise my liberty to eat meat, I could destroy a brother. My brother could be destroyed by my self-indulgence, by my eating one T-bone steak. How could I even conceive of exercising this liberty when my Lord gave His very life, His all, on the cross of Calvary to save my brother—and me! If Christ gave His all to save my brother, surely I can sacrifice eating meat, so as not to destroy him.¹⁰⁸

Verses 16-18 sum up the essence of the matter. What is “good” for me should not bring about “evil” for another (verse 16). Eating meat, or not eating it, is not where true life is for the Christian. For the unbeliever, who has no hope for eternity, life consists of “eating, drinking, and being merry” (1 Corinthians 15:32). For the Christian, “the kingdom of God is righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit” (verse 17). In the light of these blessings, whether or not there is meat on our plate should be seen as a matter of no great gain or loss.

Love does not take liberties; it surrenders them for the benefit of a brother. To surrender a liberty for the benefit of a brother is to serve the Lord and to gain approval by men (see also Romans 12:17). Surrendering our liberties offers each of us great benefit for ourselves and for others, at very little cost. Demanding our liberties threatens great damage and promises little benefit to us. Surrendering our liberty is a great investment; spending them is a dangerous form of self-indulgence.

From Principle to Practice
(14:19-23)

So then let us pursue the things which make for peace and the building up of one another. Do not tear down the work of God for the sake of food. All things indeed are clean, but they are evil for the man who eats and gives offense. It is good not to eat meat or to drink wine, or to do anything by which your brother stumbles. The faith which you have, have as your own conviction before God. Happy is he who does not condemn himself in what he approves. But he who doubts is condemned if he eats, because his eating is not from faith; and whatever is not from faith is sin.

Paul shifts gears in the transitional verses of 19-23 and moves from a negative to a positive emphasis. He moves from what we should stop doing to what we should pursue. We must stop judging one another (verses 1-12), and cease from exercising any liberty which causes your brother to stumble (verses 13-23). Instead, we should “pursue the things which make for peace and the building up of one another” (verse 19). Pursue those things which promote the kingdom of God, and put aside those things which hinder it.

Christians are in the building business—not in the demolition business. Judging others and demanding the right to exercise our liberty, regardless of its affect on others, tears others down. In the abstract, all things are clean for the one whose faith is strong and whose conscience is clean concerning their exercise. Yet these “good” things become “evil” for the strong if and when they cause another to stumble.

How quickly and easily sin corrupts! For those who are strong in their faith, every Christian liberty is clean. But the moment my “good” causes “evil” for another, it becomes evil for me also. Any liberty I exercise at the expense of a brother becomes a sin for me (verse 20). Therefore, it is “not good” for me to exercise any liberty (here, Paul illustrates with eating meat and drinking wine) by which my brother stumbles (verse 21).

The strong Christian then is left with two principle concerns. He must first be certain of his own convictions. The first danger is that he might exercise a liberty to the detriment of a weaker brother (verse 21). The second danger is that he might be tempted to approve that which God does not—to press his liberty too far. To him, Paul says, “Happy is he who does not condemn himself in what he approves” (verse 22).

The weaker Christian is left with one exhortation: “Don’t act out of doubt, but only out of faith.” The principle governing his actions is simple: “Whatever is not from faith is sin” (verse 23). Doubt is the opposite of faith. Actions which proceed from doubt are not of faith, and thus are sin.

Conclusion

Let us reflect on some important principles Paul has underscored in this passage of Scripture as we conclude this lesson.

(1) Convictions concerning Christian liberties are necessary and important. For the sake of conscience, and for the sake of our walk before God, we need to carefully consider our convictions. In Paul’s words, we need to be “fully convinced in our own mind” (verse 5). We need to be careful that we do not approve that which God does not approve (verse 22). Each of us will stand before God and give account of our lives. One thing for which we will give account is our convictions and how we have lived by them.

(2) We need to recognize our convictions as convictions. Convictions should be beliefs we have thought through carefully and hold firmly. As strongly as we may hold them, true convictions are not the test of true piety. And the convictions which we hold are not the fundamentals of our faith. Rather, they are the outworking, the implications, of our faith. We dare not confuse convictions with truth, with God’s commands, or with fundamentals of the faith.

(3) We must recognize that our convictions are a private matter, between us and God. The convictions which we hold are to be held privately. We are not to seek to impose them on others. Neither are we to judge a brother regarding his convictions. “The faith which you have, have as your own conviction before God” (Romans 14:22).

(4) We must also recognize that the exercise of our convictions is a public matter, between us, others, and God. The convictions we hold are a matter between us and God. The practice of those liberties which our convictions allow are not private, but public. My practice sets a precedent and an example for others. Those who are weak in faith may be influenced by my example and encouraged to violate their own convictions by doing that which their conscience condemns. Thus, while the convictions I hold are a private matter, the convictions I practice are not. I am therefore free to believe as my faith and my conscience dictate, concerning Christian liberties. But I am not free to behave only in accordance with my faith and conscience. My behavior is governed by love as I consider the effect my conduct will have on others, and as I surrender my liberties for the good of my brother.

(5) In our text, Christian love is defined in a way that is distinct from the “love” of those who do not know Jesus Christ. How vastly different Christian love is from all other “loves.” Christian love does not take liberties when doing so is detrimental to others. Christian love surrenders liberties, for the good of others. Christian love does not indulge the flesh, but denies fleshly desires and appetites (such as the desire for meat, or wine) when the enjoyment of such things comes at the expense of others. How different Christian love is from the “love” of this world, which seeks pleasure at the expense of another and knows nothing of self-control and self-sacrifice.

May each of us give serious thought to our convictions. May we each be fully convinced in our own minds. And may the practice or setting aside of our Christian liberties be done as to the Lord.

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93 Webster’s Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary (Springfield, Massachusetts: G. & C. Merriam Company, 1965), p. 183.

94 I do not think that all convictions fall within this category of behavior, however. There are other categories as well. For example, Christians must reach certain doctrinal convictions. Convictions are required wherever the Scriptures are not quite specific or dogmatic on a given point of theology. Wherever there is a lack of clarity or certainty, convictions are necessary. For example, in the theological category of eschatology (the doctrine of future things), some Christians are pre-tribulational; others hold to a mid-tribulation rapture, and others are post-tribulational. Each of these positions is, in my opinion, a theological conviction. Many of the differences between Christians fall in this area of theological or doctrinal convictions.

95 The pro-abortion movement persists in trying to persuade us that abortion is a matter of personal convictions. To do so, they must reject and ignore biblical revelation—the Bible.

96 This is necessary since right and wrong are matters of revelation, not reason. Note Paul’s words on this matter in Romans 7:7.

97 It is interesting to compare this with Romans 8:28. God employs those things which ultimately work for our good. We should do likewise, considering whether the exercise of a particular liberty promotes what is good, for us and for others.

98 The term conscience does not appear in Romans 14 or 15, but in a related passage in 1 Corinthians 8-10, the term occurs five times in those three chapters (8:7, 10, 12; 10:29 2x). I would define “conscience” as man’s internal moral referee, which condemns us for doing that which we believe to be wrong, and commends us for doing that which is right. All men possess a conscience (Romans 2:14-15). One’s conscience may rightly discern “good” and “evil” even without God’s Law (Romans 2:14-16). Our conscience should conform to the definitions of “good” and “evil” as defined by God’s Law and biblical teaching (see 1 Timothy 1:5ff.) and the laws of the land (Romans 13:5). Our consciences are cleansed by the shed blood of Jesus Christ (Hebrews 9:9, 14; 10:22; see also 1 Peter 3:21). The verdict of our conscience can be confirmed by the Holy Spirit (Romans 9:1). It can be trained and sensitized by obedience (Hebrews 5:12-13) and desensitized and corrupted by sin (1 Timothy 4:2; Titus 1:15). One’s conscience can also be weak (1 Corinthians 8:7) and susceptible to wounding by another (1 Corinthians 8:12). The ideal for the Christian is to have a conscience that is clear before both God and man (Acts 23:1; 24:16; 2 Corinthians 1:12). In this way we are free to serve God (Hebrews 9:14). When Paul taught, he addressed himself to the conscience of those he taught (2 Corinthians 4:2). His goal in teaching was to inspire love, which could only occur in those whose consciences were pure and undefiled (see 1 Timothy 1:5).

99 See Romans 12:3; 2 Corinthians 10:13; Ephesians 4:7; 1 Peter 4:11.

100 “Their ‘weakness’ is expressed in a number of abstentions which will be noted in detail below; it attests a failure to grasp the fundamental principle, which page after page of this epistle emphasizes, that men are justified by faith alone—or, better, by God’s own free electing grace, faith being man’s recognition that all is dependent not upon himself but God. So strong is this emphasis that it comes as a surprise to find that Paul recognizes that both strong and weak have a place in the Church, and that both can stand before God and be accepted by him.” C. K. Barrett, The Epistle to the Romans (New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1957), pp. 256-257.

101 In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus challenged this pharisaical system of interpreting and applying the Old Testament as inconsistent with the meaning and use of the Law of Moses as given by God. There were rules, do’s and don’ts, but these were intended to teach us principles, and it was by these principles that men were to be guided. A study of the entire sermon reveals how much Jesus challenged His audience to think. Legalism does the opposite. You do not have to think as a legalist; you only have to find the right rule and keep it. Legalism therefore has no category labeled, “convictions.” It needs none.

102 This will change in Romans 15:2, where the application widens from one’s brother to one’s neighbor.

103 If the translation of this verse in the NASB is correct—with emphasis on praise and not just confession—then Paul is making an additional point. Not only will we stand before God to give account for our own convictions and how we have used them, but we will also give praise to God as the one who alone deserves praise. While we are liable for our sins, we are not worthy of praise for any of our good deeds. If we sin in the area of convictions, we will give account to God. But there is no merit in this area of convictions for which we will take any credit. When we stand before God, only He will be praised, for in the final analysis, any good done through us is that good which God has accomplished in us (see Romans 15:17-19).

104 It is only unclean to him, not to others. Thus, we dare not impose our conviction on another.

105 The expression, “let us not judge one another any more” clearly implies that passing judgment was a wide-spread practice at the time. This is not some hypothetical evil which was to be avoided. It was an evil practice which was to be abandoned.

106 The word “determine” found in the NASB is a translation of the term which is derived from the same root rendered “judge” earlier in this verse. Paul employs a deliberate play on words. He urges us not to “judge” our brother but to come to the “judgment,” the verdict, that we will not do anything which will cause our brother to stumble.

107 Paul’s use of the terms “clean” and “unclean” give us the hint of some Jewish involvement here. The terms are seldom used apart from a Jewish context.

108 My self-indulgence could be the cause of a brother’s destruction. Self-discipline is often the key. Self-discipline enables me to “just say no” to my fleshly appetites when exercising my liberty might destroy a brother. This matter of self-indulgence and self-discipline is spelled out much more fully in 1 Corinthians 9:24–10:13.

I remember exactly where I was the first time I heard Judith Jarvis Thompson’s famous “Violinist” argument. I was driving south on the 405 freeway in Los Angeles listening to a radio talk-show. It shook me up so much I almost had to pull over.

Not only was the argument compelling, but Thompson made a stunning concession when she acknowledged the full personhood of the unborn. Having freely handed to pro-lifers what they were trying to prove, she short-circuited their argument from the outset.

My first emotion was despair. The argument couldn’t be answered, I thought. This is often the case with carefully worded philosophical treatments. At first glance they appear compelling. On closer inspection, though, the flaws begin to show. In this instance, the problems with Thompson’s argument are fatal.

The Violinist Argument

The details of Judith Jarvis Thompson’s argument are important, so I will quote her illustration in full. Titled “A Defense of Abortion,” Thompson’s trenchant challenge to the pro-life view first appeared in 1971 in the Journal of Philosophy and Public Affairs.¹

I propose, then, that we grant that the fetus is a person from the moment of conception. How does the argument go from here? Something like this, I take it. Every person has a right to life. So the fetus has a right to life. No doubt the mother has a right to decide what shall happen in and to her body; everyone would grant that. But surely a person’s right to life is stronger and more stringent than the mother’s right to decide what happens in and to her body, and so outweighs it. So the fetus may not be killed; an abortion may not be performed.

It sounds plausible. But now let me ask you to imagine this. You wake up in the morning and find yourself back to back in bed with an unconscious violinist. A famous unconscious violinist. He has been found to have a fatal kidney ailment, and the Society of Music Lovers has canvassed all the available medical records and found that you alone have the right blood type to help. They have therefore kidnapped you, and last night the violinist’s circulatory system was plugged into yours, so that your kidneys can be used to extract poisons from his blood as well as your own. The director of the hospital now tells you, “Look, we’re sorry the Society of Music Lovers did this to you—we would never have permitted it if we had known. But still, they did it, and the violinist now is plugged into you. To unplug you would be to kill him. But never mind, it’s only for nine months. By then he will have recovered from his ailment, and can safely be unplugged from you.

Is it morally incumbent on you to accede to this situation? No doubt it would be very nice of you if you did, a great kindness. But do you have to accede to it? What if it were not nine months, but nine years? Or longer still? What if the director of the hospital says, “Tough luck, I agree, but you’ve now got to stay in bed, with the violinist plugged into you, for the rest of your life. Because remember this. All persons have a right to life, and violinists are persons. Granted you have a right to decide what happens in and to your body, but a person’s right to life outweighs your right to decide what happens in and to your body. So you cannot ever be unplugged from him.” I imagine you would regard this as outrageous,² which suggests that something really is wrong with that plausible-sounding argument I mentioned a moment ago.

Let’s unpack the argument. Thompson correctly shows that an additional step is needed to bridge the gap between the premise that the unborn is a person and the conclusion that killing the unborn child is always wrong. What’s needed is the additional premise that taking the life of a person is always wrong. Killing, however, is sometimes permissible, most notably in self-defense.

The reasoning in the violinist illustration is very tight. Thompson accurately represents the pro-life position, then offers a scenario for us to consider. The analysis employs two powerful techniques of argumentation: an example that appeals to moral intuition followed by a logical slippery slope.

The logical slippery slope works like this. When one thing is immoral, and a second is logically similar in a morally relevant way, the moral quality of the one “slips over” into the other. For example, murder is immoral, and some think capital punishment is similar enough to murder to make capital punishment immoral, too.³

Thompson is counting on a certain moral intuition—our sense of justice—rising to the surface when we consider the plight of the kidnapped woman in her illustration who is used as a host against her will to support the life of a stranger.

She then asks us to consider if having an abortion is a meaningful parallel to unplugging the violinist. Both circumstances catch the woman by surprise. Both the violinist and the unborn child are attached to her body, which both need in order to survive. Both will release her in nine months.

Thompson’s view is that disconnecting the violinist is morally justified even though he’ll die, and there seems to be merit to this appeal. To stay connected would be heroic—”a great kindness,” in her words—but, like all acts of heroism, it is voluntary and not morally required.⁴ If that’s the case, then it’s moral to abort a child, even if he or she is a fully human person, just like the violinist. If the first is morally acceptable (unplugging the violinist), and if the second (having an abortion) is similar to the first in a relevant way, then the second should be acceptable also. That’s the logical slippery slope.

An argument found in the book, Breaking the Abortion Deadlock: From Choice to Consent,⁵ uses the same approach. Author Eileen McDonagh points out that if a woman’s liberty is being threatened in some fashion—if she is being attacked, raped, or kidnapped—then the law gives her the latitude to use lethal force to repel her attacker.

Pregnancy, McDonagh argues, is this kind of situation. “If a woman has the right to defend herself against a rapist, she also should be able to use deadly force to expel a fetus,” she writes.⁶ In pregnancy, a woman is being attacked by another human being—from the inside, not from the outside. Therefore, she has the moral liberty to repel her attacker by killing the intruder.

It does seem obvious that a woman ought to be allowed to protect herself from an attacker and use lethal force to do so, if necessary. If this is true, then we must concede the legitimacy of abortion, which, McDonagh claims, is parallel in a relevant way. Again, note the logical slippery slope attempt.

Parallels That Aren’t Parallel

The key question in any slippery slope appeal is whether the two situations are truly similar in a morally relevant way. If not, then the illustration is guilty of a logical slippery slope fallacy, the analogy fails, and the argument falls apart.

Are there important differences between pregnancy and kidnapping? Yes, many.

First, the violinist is artificially attached to the woman. A mother’s unborn baby, however, is not surgically connected, nor was it ever “attached” to her. Instead, the baby is being produced by the mother’s own body by the natural process of reproduction.

Second, both Thompson and McDonagh treat the child—the woman’s own daughter or son—like an invading stranger. They make the mother/child union into a host/predator relationship.

A child is not an invader, though, a parasite living off his mother. A mother’s womb is the baby’s natural environment. Eileen McDonagh wants us to believe that the child growing inside of a woman is trespassing. One trespasses when he’s not in his rightful place, but a baby developing in the womb belongs there.

Thompson ignores a third important distinction. In the violinist illustration, the woman might be justified withholding life-giving treatment from the musician under these circumstances. Abortion, though, is not merely withholding treatment. It is actively taking another human being’s life through poisoning or dismemberment. A more accurate parallel with abortion would be to crush the violinist or cut him into pieces before unplugging him.

The violinist illustration is not parallel to pregnancy because it equates the mother/child relationship with a stranger/stranger relationship. This is a key point and brings into focus the most dangerous presumption of the violinist argument, also echoed in McDonagh’s appeal. Both presume it is unreasonable to expect a mother to have any unique obligations towards her own child.

The violinist analogy suggests that a mother has no more responsibility for the welfare of her child than she has to a total stranger. McDonagh’s view is even worse. She argues the child is not merely a stranger, but a violent assailant the mother needs to ward off in self-defense. An unborn child is no more assaulting his mother than her eight year old is stealing when he grabs cookies and milk from the ‘fridge.

This error becomes immediately evident if we amend Thompson’s illustration. What if the mother woke up from an accident to find herself connected to her own child? What kind of mother would willingly cut the life-support system to her two-year-old in a situation like that? And what would we think of her if she did?

Blood relationships are never based on choice, yet they entail moral obligations, nonetheless. This is why the courts prosecute negligent parents. They have consistently ruled, for example, that fathers have an obligation to support their children even if they are unplanned and unwanted.

If it is moral for a mother to deny her child the necessities of life (through abortion) before the child is born, how can she be obligated to provide the same necessities after he’s born? Remember, Thompson concedes that the fetus is a person from the moment of conception. If her argument works to justify abortion, it works just as well to justify killing any dependent child. After all, a two-year-old makes a much greater demand on a woman than a developing unborn (ask any parent).

Thompson is mistaken in presuming that pregnancy is the thing that expropriates a woman’s liberty. Instead, motherhood does that, and motherhood doesn’t begin with the birth of the child. It starts nine months earlier (ask any mother) and, unlike the woman connected to the violinist, she is not released in nine months. Her burden has just begun. If Thompson’s argument works, then no child is safe from a mother who wants her liberty, regardless of their age.

In the end, both Thompson’s and McDonagh’s arguments prove too much. They allow us to kill any human being who is dependent upon us, young or old, if that person restrains our personal liberty.

The simple fact is, in a civilized society no one has the freedom to do whatever she wants with her own body. Liberty unfettered by morality is the operative rule of anarchy, not civilization. At any given moment, each of us is constrained by hundreds of laws reflecting our moral responsibilities to each other and to our communities. The most primal of those rules is the obligation of a mother to her helpless child. This is one of the reasons the public outcry against Susan Smith was so intense.

Susan Smith Morality

On October 25, 1994, Susan Smith shocked the nation by murdering her children. She believed her two young boys were an obstacle to remarriage, so she placed them in her car, fastened their seat belts, and drove them into a lake.

Smith’s crime was especially obscene because she violated the most fundamental moral obligation of all: the responsibility a mother has for the safety and well-being of her own children. Yet wouldn’t Susan Smith be exonerated by applying Thompson’s and McDonagh’s logic? These children were kidnappers and interlopers, trespassing on Smith’s life, depriving her of liberty. Why not kill them? Those boys were attacking her. It was self-defense.

A while back, a couple in New York was arrested when authorities learned they took a ten-day vacation to Florida and left their young children behind, locked in their apartment to fend for themselves. If McDonagh’s and Thompson’s arguments work, these parents should be released from jail because they bear no more obligation towards their own children than they do to strangers across town or burglars who break into their home. Those children were invading their privacy, trespassing in their home, stealing their food.

This argument is frightening for two reasons. First, it must reject the notion of parental responsibility in order to succeed. Second, in spite of that weakness, people in high places think it’s compelling. Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, writing in the North Carolina Law Review, has admitted that Roe v. Wade was deeply flawed, and instead quoted the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment in support of abortion. Women get pregnant, she argued, men don’t. Abortion gives women a shot at equality. She then cited Thompson for support.

The responsibility a mother has toward her child supersedes any claim she has to personal liberty. If it doesn’t, if Thompson’s and McDonagh’s arguments succeed, then release Susan Smith. Release the deadbeat Florida tourists.

If parenthood is an act of heroism, if mothers have no moral obligation to the children they bear, if child-rearing is a burden “above and beyond the call of duty,” then no child is safe, in the womb or out.

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Addressing Abortion Columbo Style

“The government shouldn’t tell me what I can do with my own body.”

“Should the government be allowed to control your body concerning your two year old?”

“That’s different. That’s outside my body. Right now we’re talking about my uterus. The government shouldn’t tell me what I should do with my uterus any more than it should tell me I have to donate my liver or kidney.”

“On that I agree with you, but that has nothing to do with the pro-life view. Pro-lifers are not asking you to give up your uterus. Pro-lifers are saying that the government should be able to protect a human being inside your body just like it does an infant child on the outside of your body.”

“But we’re talking about my uterus, not a human being like an infant.”

“I thought we were talking about what was in your uterus.”

“Okay, but that’s not a human being.”

“It isn’t? Then what is it?”

“Nobody knows. It’s just tissue.”

“Well then, let me ask you a few questions about this mysterious thing in your uterus. You agree, then that there is something inside the uterus of a pregnant woman, right?”

“Of course.”

“Is it alive?”

“Like I said, no one knows when life begins.”

“You didn’t answer my question. I asked if it was alive, not when does life begin. So let me ask another way. Is the thing inside of a pregnant woman’s uterus growing?”

“Yes, it’s growing.”

“Well, this is progress. How can it be growing if it’s not alive?”

“Hmm… Okay, you’ve made your point. It’s alive. It’s living tissue, part of my own body, and the government has no say over my tissue growing in my body.”

“In principle, I would largely agree with your point about the government, but I don’t think this tissue is part of your body.”

“Of course it is.”

“Did you ever watch CSI?”

“Sure.”

“When the forensic pathologist finds remains of a human body, how do they determine which person the remains belong to?”

“They try to do a matching DNA test.”

“Right. If the DNA from the tissue matches the DNA of a hair sample from a known individual, then, they know where the tissue came from.”

“Right.”

“So if someone took a DNA test of that piece of flesh growing inside of your body if you were pregnant, would its DNA match your DNA?”

“Well…no.”

“Then whatever is growing inside of your body is not part of your body, is it? It’s tissue from a different body. That’s why it has a different DNA.”

“I guess so.”

“What kind of foreign creature do you think would be growing inside of your uterus when you’re pregnant.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well then, let’s go back to the CSI illustration. If forensic pathologists found a piece of tissue at a crime scene, how would they know if that tissue came from a human being or from some other animal?”

“I guess they’d do a DNA test.”

“Yes, but it would be a different kind of DNA test than the first one. This one isn’t looking for a match with a certain individual, but with a kind of individual. What kind of creature did this sample come from? What kind of DNA “signature” does the sample have? It might be dog DNA, cat DNA, possum road-kill DNA, or possibly human DNA. So if we took a piece of tissue from that living thing growing in your uterus, what kind of DNA do you think it would have?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a scientist.”

You don’t really have to be a scientist to know the answer to that question. Let me ask my question another way. What kinds of things naturally grow in a woman’s uterus?”

“You know, offspring.”

“So, if there is an offspring growing in a woman’s uterus, what kind of offspring is it? Could it be a dog, or a cat, or a possum offspring? What kind do you think?”

“I guess it would be a human offspring.”

“So we do know what’s growing inside your uterus when you’re pregnant, don’t we. It’s not a mystery. It’s not your tissue, but your human offspring. Someone else is in there—your unborn child. So now that we’ve solved that mystery, you think the government should be allowed to force you to protect your offspring when the child is outside of your body, but not when he’s inside your body. Right?”

“I guess that’s right.”

“Why should the government be allowed to protect your offspring on the outside of your body?”

“Because children are valuable.”

“Right, I agree. But that creates a problem for you now, doesn’t it?”

“How so?”

“Well if children are valuable outside of your body—say, right after they’re born—how are those same children not valuable when they are just a couple of inches away hidden inside your uterus? Why does the location of your child make any difference to the value of your child?”

 

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¹Judith Jarvis Thompson, “A Defense of Abortion,” Journal of Philosophy and Public Affairs, 1 (1971), 47.

²Note the appeal to moral intuition here.

³I don’t think this reasoning goes through in this case, but it’s a good example of a logical slippery slope approach.

⁴Philosophers call heroic efforts “supererogatory acts,” behavior that is not obligatory, but is praiseworthy if done, like a soldier throwing himself on a grenade, sacrificing his life to protect his comrades.

⁵Eileen McDonagh, Breaking the Abortion Deadlock:  From Choice to Consent (New York, Oxford University Press, 1996).

⁶Quoted in Nat Hentoff, “The Tiny, Voiceless Enemy Within,” Los Angeles Times, 2/3/97, B-5.

Three years ago I sat on a short bench in a small stone church on the outskirts of Oxford. In a tiny graveyard outside was a flat tombstone with the name “Clive Staples Lewis” etched into the granite.

The pew my wife and I were sitting in was the same place C.S. Lewis occupied with his brother Warnie every Sunday morning for decades as they worshipped together at Trinity Church.

This man, C.S. Lewis, probably more than anyone else in the 20th century, lived out the admonition of a passage I want you to think about. Here it is:

Beloved, while I was making every effort to write you about our common salvation, I felt the necessity to write to you appealing that you contend earnestly for the faith which was once for all delivered to the saints. (Jude 3)

Never before in my lifetime has this verse been more important for Christians to hear, consider, and heed.

Note three elements in this verse that are essential to Jude’s entreaty.

First, Jude makes reference to a specific message with specific content, the “faith once and for all delivered”—the foundation of “our common salvation.” Second is the admonition to “contend earnestly” for that faith—to proclaim it, guard it, and defend it. Finally, Jude reminds us that it had been “delivered” to the saints—passed on from the disciples to the next generation in the church.

Here’s why those three elements of Jude’s admonition are critical for you and I right now. At the beginning of the 21st century we are in the cultural and theological fight of our lives. The attack is coming from many directions, but we are facing serious challenges on two broad fronts. Simply put, we have trouble in the world and trouble in the church.

Trouble in the World

Currently, the Christian worldview is facing assault on multiple fronts.

Our story starts, “In the beginning, God,” yet a host of dedicated writers—collectively known as the “new atheists” ¹—have been doing their best to ensure our story never gets off the ground. There are also attacks on the integrity of our authority base, the Bible,² and a myriad of assaults on the historicity of the central player in our drama—Jesus of Nazareth.

In the midst of this academic attack, there is an increasingly pervasive godlessness and a militant relativism in the culture. The 21st century began as an era of radical skepticism, especially in the area of morality and religion. As a result, the moral rulebook is being rewritten. Right has become wrong and wrong right.

In addition, there is an increasing hostility towards those who take Jesus seriously regarding the Great Commission. Jesus said he came, “To seek to save that which was lost” (Lk. 19:10), “to give His life as a ransom for many” (Matt. 20:28), and “to call sinners to repentance” (Lk. 5:32). That was the way He described His own mission.

Yet when we proclaim this message—Jesus’ central message—we court conflict. Indeed, to be faithful to Jesus’ claim that He is the only Savior is increasingly considered an example of “spreading hate.”

For example, a number of years ago the Southern Baptists planned to evangelize Jews during a summer outreach in Chicago. A consortium of religious groups in that city—including Christian denominations, amazingly—demanded that the Baptists stay home. They warned that evangelism in their city would encourage hate crimes. In fact, a Jewish group claimed it invited “theological hatred.”³

This tendency to see the Gospel as a message of hate gained momentum after 9/11. As the smoke still billowed from the wreckage of World Trade I & II, Thomas Friedman wrote a column in the New York Times titled “The Real War” warning of what he termed “religious totalitarianism”:

If 9/11 was indeed the onset of World War III, we have to understand what this war is about. We’re not fighting to eradicate “terrorism.” Terrorism is just a tool. We’re fighting to defeat an ideology: religious totalitarianism….a view of the world that my faith must reign supreme and can be affirmed and held passionately only if all others are negated. That’s bin Ladenism. But unlike Nazism, religious totalitarianism can’t be fought by armies alone. It has to be fought in schools, mosques, churches and synagogues, and can be defeated only with the help of imams, rabbis and priests.⁴ [emphasis added]

He then applauded a rabbi who “…set up his own schools in Israel to compete with fundamentalist Jews, Muslims, and Christians, who used their schools to preach exclusivist religious visions.”⁵

This same theme keeps popping up everywhere I go: We are the enemy. Last fall on the radio I heard Chris Matthews of “Hardball” fame say the people in America most like the Taliban were the Evangelical Christians.

This puts any church committed to fulfilling the Great Commission directly in the crosshairs of the culture wars.

Trouble in the Church

There’s not only trouble in the world—trouble from the outside—but there is serious trouble on the inside. Sadly, in spite of the plethora of materials available to believers, there is still a profound biblical illiteracy in Christian circles.

In 2005, researchers Christian Smith and Melinda Denton conducted a “National Study of Youth and Religion” and recorded their finding in their book, Soul Searching: The Religious and Spiritual Lives of American Teenagers. Here’s what they discovered.

First, they learned there is no generation gap with young people when it comes to religion. Teens were not “spiritual seekers,” but rather were at home in church circles with 75% identifying with some form of Christianity.

The second thing they discovered, however, was not comforting. When these same committed Christian teenagers were interviewed one-on-one about the specifics of their convictions, almost none from any religious background could articulate the most basic beliefs of the faith.

Smith and Denton summed up their theology as “moralistic, therapeutic deism.” To these teens, religion was about being nice and enjoying a relationship with a God who mostly wanted them to be happy and feel good about themselves—which was, as it turned out, the very same religious view of their parents.

But the picture gets worse.

In September of 2009, I was a guest at an interfaith dialog in Los Angeles with Roman Catholic priest Gregory Coiro before a large Jewish audience on Rosh Hashanah.

When asked why Jesus was the only way of salvation, I offered a lucid account of the Gospel. Father Coiro then affirmed the importance of Jesus, but assured the audience that their honest and sincere pursuit of Judaism counted as saving faith in God’s eyes. These Jews were safe, beneficiaries of the cross even though they rejected Jesus.

Surprisingly, large numbers of Protestants agree. God doesn’t really care what faith you follow since they all teach basically the same life lessons. In the midst of this theological confusion, Christians of all stripes are falling away from the truth en masse, becoming casualties of a culture that celebrates pluralism.

With trouble in the world and trouble in the church, what do we do to fulfill Jude’s exhortation? Paul’s last letter gives the answer.

Paul’s Swan Song

If you visit Rome and take the right tour, you will be shown an ancient cistern northwest of the city. Originally meant to hold water, it later served as a dungeon. Mamertine prison is a circular, low-ceilinged, underground room of rock where prisoners were lowered in on a rope.

I’ve seen pictures of the dank, dismal interior. Against one wall there is a low, protruding rock shelf of sorts. It’s the only flat place in the cell, the only surface someone could write on. This is likely the very spot—this small ledge of rock—where the apostle Paul wrote his spiritual last will and testament. We know it as 2 Timothy.

Of all the New Testament books, 2 Timothy is my favorite. It was Paul’s final message, his swan song, the last thing he ever wrote. It is clear, uncomplicated, and to the point, speaking forcefully and practically to the challenges of the 21st century.

2 Timothy gives the answer to our question about guarding the Gospel, because that is the book’s theme, found explicitly in 1:14: “Guard, through the Holy Spirit who dwells in us, the treasure which has been entrusted to you.” Paul’s message is absolutely vital to each one of us today because he tells us exactly what it looks like in any century to contend earnestly for the faith.

You see, the early church was also facing trouble on two fronts.

There was trouble for Christians in the world. They were under tremendous attack in that culture. In A.D. 64, a fire broke out in Rome that raged for six days and seven nights, totally destroying a great part of the city. Emperor Nero falsely charged the Christians and punished them with “the most exquisite tortures,” as the historian, Tacitus, records in his Annals:

They were covered with the hides of wild beasts and worried to death by dogs, or nailed to crosses, or set fire to, and, when day declined, burned to serve for nocturnal lights. Nero offered his own gardens for that spectacle.⁶

In the midst of this extreme physical persecution of the church, Paul warned of a pervasive godlessness coming in the culture:

But realize this, that in the last days difficult times will come. For men will be lovers of self, lovers of money, boastful, arrogant, revilers, disobedient to parents, ungrateful, unholy, unloving, irreconcilable, malicious gossips, without self-control, brutal, haters of good, treacherous, reckless, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God. (2 Tim. 3:1-4)

Timothy would also be facing trouble in the church:

The time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine, but wanting to have their ears tickled, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in accordance to their own desires, and will turn away their ears from the truth, and will turn aside to myths. (2 Tim. 4:3-4)

Paul’s Simple Solution

What is Paul’s answer to Timothy’s challenge, which is the same challenge we face? It’s refreshingly simple and the heart of it can be captured in three words: “You, however, continue…” (3:14).

Paul does not tell Timothy to look forward to any new movements of the Spirit, any fresh word from God, or any insider’s spiritual fad. He points not to future, but rather to the past. “Timothy, don’t look forward,” he says. “Look backward.” Here is the full citation, part of which I’m sure is familiar to you:

You, however, continue in the things you have learned and become convinced of, knowing from whom you have learned them, and that from childhood you have known the sacred writings which are able to give you the wisdom that leads to salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work. (2 Tim. 3:14-17)

Then Paul amps it up another notch. At the beginning of chapter four he challenges Timothy with the most sober language he can muster:

I solemnly charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by His appearing and His Kingdom: Preach the Word. Be ready in season and out of season. Reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with great patience and instruction. Be sober in all things. Endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry” (4:1-2, 5).

Simply put, Paul tells Timothy to guard the Gospel by continuing in the truth already revealed. In other words, when all else fails, read—and follow—the directions.

But that is not enough.

Passing the Baton

I want you to notice something about 2 Timothy. Paul wrote his final letter to a person, not a group. He passed the baton of the Gospel to a faithful individual, a young man named Timothy, and then told him to do the same: “The things which you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses, entrust these to faithful men who will be able to teach others also” (2 Tim. 2:2).

Note the four generations in this passage: Paul, Timothy, faithful disciples, and “others”—the baton being handed down from one individual person to the next. Paul knew it would not be enough for any Christian to continue in the truth. It also needed to be handed down. Indeed, guarding the Gospel is not complete until it has been passed on effectively.

When I became a follower of Christ at UCLA in 1973, I was a loud, opinionated, obnoxious, long-haired hippie. Now, 39 years later, I am no longer a long-haired hippie. I’m also not nearly as obnoxious as I used to be. I owe that transformation largely to one man: Craig Englert.

For two years—at great risk to life and limb—Craig took me under his wing. I’ve had other mentors since then, but I know with certainty that without Craig I would not be in the position I’m in today.

Craig Englert and others who followed him in my life were not content to guard the truth. They needed to entrust it to others—even me, as unlikely as it seemed at the time—in order for the Gospel to go forward. They passed the baton to me, as Paul had done with Timothy. Indeed, they were passing the same baton Paul passed to Timothy that was then passed down for two thousand years—from one, to another, to another until it was mine to carry.

In the summer Olympics of 2008 in Beijing, American runners suffered a humiliating defeat in the 4 X 100 relays. In the anchor leg, Darvis Patton handed the baton to Tyson Gay, but Gay never got it. In the middle of the handoff, they dropped the baton.

Tyson Gay was our best sprinter. We had the fastest team. It didn’t matter. They dropped the baton, so we lost the race. In fact, we never even finished that race.

Paul told Timothy, “If anyone competes as an athlete, he does not win the prize unless he competes according to the rules” (2:5). “Timothy,” Paul said, “you cannot drop the baton.”

And we cannot drop the baton, either. If we do, we lose.

No Surprises

So how do we guard the Gospel? Two ways. First, we continue in the things already delivered to us. Second, we pass the baton. Those are the rules.

If we disregard Paul’s solution, we should not be surprised when we remain children, tossed here and there by waves, and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by the trickery of men, by craftiness in deceitful scheming (Eph. 4:14).

If we don’t guard the Gospel, we should not be surprised when we are taken captive through philosophy and empty deception, according to the tradition of men, according to the elementary principles of the world, rather than according to Christ (Col. 2:8).

If we don’t pass the baton, we should not be surprised when we will not endure sound doctrine, but wanting to have our ears tickled, we accumulate for ourselves teachers in accordance to our own desires, and turn away our ears from the truth, and turn aside to myths (2 Tim. 4:3-4).

I asked Father Coiro at that meeting on Rosh Hashanah if there were any New Testament evidence for the assurances he offered our Jewish audience. He cited Jesus’ comment, “For he who is not against us is for us” (Mk. 9:40). The Jews in our company, he pointed out, were not against Jesus. They must then, by default, be for Him, the priest reasoned.

Yet Jesus also said, “He who is not with Me is against Me, and he who does not gather with Me scatters” (Matt. 12:30). So what do we make of this apparent contradiction in Jesus’ teaching? Check the context. When we do, we discover that Jesus was referring to entirely different groups.

In the first case, Jesus was speaking of those who had been performing miracles in His name, but were not part of His core group of disciples—Christians, in other words, not unbelieving Jews. In the second case, Jesus was speaking to Jews who had rejected his Messianic claim.

The question for us, then, is, What kind of group were Father Coiro and I talking to at our event? People who were working miracles in the name of Jesus, or people who were rejecting Jesus’ messianic claim? Father Coiro had applied the wrong passage to our Jewish listeners.

When Jesus was speaking to a group like we had been that day, He said, “Unless you believe that I am He, you will die in your sins” (Jn. 8:24). When Peter was speaking to a group like we had been that day, he said, “And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven that has been given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). When Paul was writing about a group like we had been speaking to that day he wrote:

I bear them witness that they have a zeal for God, but not in accordance with knowledge. For not knowing about God’s righteousness and seeking to establish their own, they did not subject themselves to the righteousness of God. For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes. (Rom. 10:2-4)

Finishing the Race

The key to contending for the faith—to surviving the spiritual onslaught of the 21st century—is to guard the Gospel. The key to that is found in two simple phrases. One, “Continue in the things you have learned.” Back to the basics. Back to the Word as it has been entrusted to us. And two, entrust it to faithful disciples who will be able to teach others also.

That’s it. Guard the Gospel by continuing in the truth already revealed, then pass the baton. Proclaim the truth faithfully, guard it diligently, and pass it on carefully. That is how we contend earnestly for the faith once for all delivered to the saints. That is how we guard the Gospel Paul entrusted to Timothy, now entrusted to us.

And not until we do that can we say what Paul said at the end of his magnificent letter: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith.”⁷

                             

“New Contend Earnestly for The Faith”  ©2009 Gregory Koukl

Stand to Reason, 1-800-2-REASON

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¹ Christopher Hitchens, God Is Not Great—How Religion Poisons Everything; Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion; Daniel Dennett, Breaking the Spell; and Sam Harris, The End of Faith.

² E.g., authors like Bart Ehrman with his best seller, Misquoting Jesus.

³ Jeffery L. Sheler, “Unwelcome Prayers,” U.S. News & World Report, 9/20/99.

⁴ Thomas Friedman, “The Real War,” New York Times, November, 27, 2001.

⁵ Ibid.

⁶ Tacitus, Annals, xv. 44.

⁷ 2 Tim. 4:6.

A Christian’s theology is minimally defined by two miraculous events.

The first miracle no one ever saw, because it could not be seen except by God alone. The second miracle only a few saw, but multitudes have experienced. These miracles happened within days of each other in the middle of the Jewish month of Nissan, in the spring of 33 A.D. It was the week of Jesus’ passion.

Best Christmas Verse You’ll Never Hear

Traditionally, Easter is the time we reflect on these two events. I think, however, we should start four months earlier, with Advent. It may seem odd to talk of Christ’s suffering at Christmas—it’s not very festive—but there’s a simple logic joining the two that’s often missed because of Yuletide habit.

Usually we focus on Nativity passages—shepherds, angels, wise men, “no room at the inn,” mangers, etc. But you will hear nothing of one of the most significant New Testament texts on the birth of Christ since it’s not in the birth narratives. It’s not even in the Gospels.

Here is the most important Christmas verse you’ll never hear on Christmas:

Therefore, when He comes into the world, He says, “Sacrifice and offering you have not desired, but a body you have prepared for Me. In whole burnt offerings and sacrifices for sin you have taken no pleasure. “Then I said, ‘Behold, I have come (in the scroll of the book it is written of me) to do your will, oh God.’” Heb. 10:5-7

Note the opening words: “When He comes into the world….” Who is “He”? The babe in the manger. On that first Christmas, the eternal Son of God surrendered His perfect human self to His Father as the future unblemished offering for the sins of fallen human beings.

This verse tells us the precise reason the Son came to Earth. He did not come principally to teach love, peace, and pity for the poor. He came to submit Himself to something unspeakably violent and brutal. Every crèche ought to have a cross hanging over it, because Jesus was born to die.

“The Son of Man [came] to give His life a ransom for many,” Jesus said. (Mt. 20:28) A ransom is the price paid to purchase something. What would Jesus buy? Lost souls. At what price? “…a body you have prepared for me.” He would give the life of His body to provide forgiveness for our souls.

And this you do find in the birth narratives—everywhere.

God speaks to Joseph in a dream telling him Mary will bear a son who “will save His people from their sins.” (Mt. 1:21) The angels appear to shepherds that first Christmas night and say, “Today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Lk. 2:10-11) Days later Simeon encounters the infant Jesus at the temple: “Lord, you can let your bondservant depart in peace…for my eyes have seen Your salvation….” (Lk. 2:29-38)

Earlier Zacharias had prophesied over his infant son, John the Baptist, that He would “…give to His people the knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins….” (Lk. 1:76-77) This same John would point to Jesus 30 years later and say “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” (Lk. 1:29)

Jesus came to save—to rescue from imminent danger. What was the threat? God Himself. (Mt. 10:28) How would Jesus rescue us from the Father? First, He lived the life we should have lived. Second, He died the death we all deserved. Third, He made a swap, a trade.

From the very beginning, this divine plan had been unfolding. Passion week was the pivot point of thousands of years of prophecy, promise, and expectation. A transaction would take place that had been planned since the dawn of time. For Jesus, though, this meant betrayal, humiliation, acute physical suffering, and unimaginable emotional agony.

The drama unfolded on a small outcropping outside the walls of ancient Jerusalem. It was called Golgotha, the “place of the skull.” We know it as Calvary, the place of the cross. It was the place of the first miracle.

The First Miracle

Crucifixion is a cruel form of execution, generally reserved for slaves and rebels. Death is agonizing and slow, the result of shock, exposure and, eventually, suffocation.

For Jesus, though, the pain of the cross pales in the face of a greater anguish. There is a deeper torment that cannot be seen, one no words can adequately express. It’s more excruciating than the lashes tearing Jesus’ flesh from His frame, more dreadful than the nails that pin His body to the timbers. It is a dark, terrible, incalculable agony—an infinite misery—that God the Father unleashes upon His sinless Son as if He were guilty of an immeasurable evil.

Why punish the innocent One?

Nailed to the top of the cross is an official notice, a certificate of debt to Caesar, posted at the place of punishment as a public notification of Jesus’ crime of sedition. It reads, “King of the Jews.” The cross is payment for this debt. When punishment is complete, Caesar’s court will cancel the debt with a single Greek word stamped upon the parchment’s face: tetelestai. Paid, completed, done, finished.

Of course, being king of the Jews is not the real crime Jesus pays for. Hidden to all but the Father is another decree of debt nailed to that cross, identifying our crimes—the “decrees against us”—before our Sovereign. (Col. 2:13-14)

In the darkness that shrouds Calvary from the sixth to the ninth hour, the divine transaction takes place. Jesus makes a trade with the Father. Punishment adequate for all the crimes of all humanity—every murder, every theft, every lustful glance, every hidden act of vice, every modest moment of pride, every monstrous deed of evil—punishment adequate for every crime of every person who ever lived—Jesus takes upon Himself as if guilty of all.

And in the end, the cross does not take Jesus’ life. He does not die of exposure, or loss of blood, or suffocation. Rather, when the full payment is made, when the last of the debt melts away and the justice of God is fully satisfied, Jesus dismisses His spirit and dies.¹

But before He does, a single Greek word escapes His lips: Tetelestai. It’s translated, “It is finished,” (Jn. 19:30) but this is not a sigh of relief. It is a “loud cry” of victory. (Mk. 15:37) The divine transaction is complete.

Jesus took our guilt so we could take His goodness. That’s the trade.² Paul put it this way, “He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” (2 Cor. 5:21)

The story is told of a king who, having discovered a theft in the royal treasury, decrees that the criminal be publicly flogged for this affront to the crown. When soldiers haul the thief before the king as he sits in his judgment seat, there in chains stands the frail form of the king’s own mother.

Without flinching, he orders the old woman to be bound to the whipping post in front of him. When she is secured, he stands up, lays down his imperial scepter, sets aside his jeweled crown, removes his royal robes, steps down to the whipping post, and enfolds the tiny old woman with his own nearly naked body. Bearing his back to the whip, he orders that the punishment commence. Every blow meant for the criminal—his mother—lands with full force upon the bare back of the king, until the last lash falls.³

In like manner, during those dark hours when Jesus hung from the cross, the Father took those who would put their trust in Christ and wrapped us in His Son who shields us, taking every blow that we deserve.⁴

This was not an accident. It was planned. The prophet Isaiah described it 700 years earlier:

Surely our griefs He Himself bore….He was pierced through for our transgressions. He was crushed for our iniquities. The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed. All of us like sheep have gone astray. Each of us has turned to his own way. But the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him. (Is. 53:4-6)

In case it has not occurred to you, this is the reason Jesus is “the only way.” He is the only one who solved the problem by paying the debt we owed. No other man did this. No other man could. Jesus alone, the perfect Son of God, canceled the debt for whoever trusts in Him. Without Him, we cannot be saved from our overwhelming guilt. Without Him, every one of us would have to pay for our own crimes. And that would take forever.

That is the miracle of the cross, the miracle that couldn’t be seen, the trade. For those who find shelter in Jesus, the anger of God has been spent, unleashed on the body of Christ. The result: God is not angry at us anymore.

Let that thought sink into your soul. For those under the cross, God is not angry anymore. He cannot be angry. Since He already poured all His anger out on His Son, He is emptied of His wrath and is satisfied:⁵

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God⁶ through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we exult in hope of the glory of God. (Rom. 5:1-2)

Of course, this news sounds wonderful to us in hindsight. On that Friday night, though, there were no poetic reflections on atonement or justification. There was just a bloody, brutally beaten corpse hanging from a cross.

Jesus was dead. And he was taken down, and he was buried. And the women were weeping, and the men were hiding. And it was night. And it was day. And it was night again. And it all seemed over. That was the end of it.

And then, something remarkable happened. Exactly what happened has mystified historians. Whatever it was, it changed everything.

The Second Miracle

Here is what historians do agree on. Today, the vast majority of New Testament scholars—including secular/critical scholars—agree to four facts of history:⁷

·         First, Jesus of Nazareth died on a Roman cross and laid in a tomb.

·         Second, the tomb was empty Sunday morning.

·         Third, numerous individuals (including skeptics like James and hostiles like Saul of Tarsus) experienced what they took to be the resurrected Jesus.

·         Fourth, belief in the resurrection transformed their lives and launched a movement that altered history.

What historians don’t agree on is what best explains these four facts, but there aren’t many options. Consider the handful of improbable scenarios meant to explain away those conclusions.

Some skeptics suggest Jesus never really died. Rather, He fainted on the cross, was taken for dead, was entombed alive, then revived in the coolness of the cave.

This would mean Jesus suffered all the physical abuse described in the historical accounts—being beaten, scourged, pinned to a cross with nails in hands and feet, exposed naked all afternoon in the April air, and speared through his chest—was declared dead by a battle-seasoned Roman centurion, (Mk. 15:44-45) embalmed with 100 pounds of myrrh and aloes, (Jn. 19:39-40) laid out on a cold stone slab, and sealed in the grave. Then, a couple of days later, Jesus felt a lot better, got up, rolled away the rock, eluded the Roman guard, and convinced his doubtful disciples He was the resurrected Lord of life.

Any skeptic who falls for that story is not skeptical enough.

Maybe the women went to the wrong tomb. That’s possible in principle, but it would have been an easy mistake to rectify. Since both the Jewish leaders and the Romans knew where Jesus was buried, and both groups wanted Him to stay dead, (Mt. 27:62-66) don’t you think someone would have quickly pointed to the correct tomb and ended the confusion? The story would have never gotten off the ground.

Instead of producing the corpse, though, the leaders manufactured a lie: The disciples stole the body.⁸ This was the earliest attempt to explain away the empty tomb, (Mt. 28:13) but it’s wildly implausible. The disciples who were hiding out of fear would have had to regroup, brave an armed Roman guard, quietly roll away the massive stone, and spirit off the body of Christ without waking the soldiers who were, amazingly, sleeping on duty. Not likely. And what would motivate the theft?

Worse, it would mean the disciples themselves knew Jesus had not, in fact, risen from the dead. Why would these men face so much suffering for a lie they manufactured? Common sense dictates that no one would contrive a tale that gains him nothing but misery. The basic rule regarding lying is this: Invent a lie that benefits you, not one that gets you beaten, whipped, scourged, stoned, drawn and quartered, or crucified upside down. Again, a skeptic who believes this is far too gullible.

Maybe the appearances were hallucinations. Really? A group hallucination? How exactly does that happen? Hallucinations are first-person private mental states, like dreams. How do you produce exactly the same detailed dream in the minds of a dozen people at exactly the same time, multiple times, especially in the minds of those who are complete doubters like Thomas, James, and Saul? By the way, do you know the difference between a dream and reality? I do. I suppose the disciples did, too.

No, hallucinations won’t do, either.

What would transform a group of shivering, shaking, terrified men who had abandoned Jesus—one even denying he knew Him—scattering, hiding from the authorities, door locked, lights out? What could account for their metamorphosis into vibrant witnesses for Jesus standing in the face of powers who threatened to scourge, imprison, and execute them for proclaiming a risen Christ?

What would change Saul of Tarsus, a man so dedicated to his religion he rounded up men and women to be bullied, beaten, and killed for following Jesus? What would cause such a man to turn on a dime and take his place with those he persecuted, eventually sacrificing his own life for the very Gospel he previously despised? What best explains that?

Only one answer will do, in Peter’s words, “This Jesus, God raised up again, to which we are all witnesses.” (Acts 2:32)

And if risen, then Jesus is the son of God because He was declared to be so “with power by the resurrection from the dead” (Rom. 1:4). And if risen, we have been forgiven because “He who was delivered over for our transgressions…was raised because of our justification” (Rom. 4:25). And if risen, we now have no condemnation because Jesus “who was raised, who is at the right hand of God…intercedes for [us]” (Rom. 8:34).

Two miracles. The first miracle a trade that ends the battle with God, bringing mercy, forgiveness, and atonement. The second miracle a defeat of death that secures eternity of glory for those who put their trust in Christ.

The Open Door

One day we will lay hold of the promise of both miracles in their fullness. “The door on which we have been knocking all of our lives will open at last,” C.S. Lewis wrote.⁹

On that day because of the first miracle—the miracle of the cross—we will hear, “…and their sins and their lawless deeds I will remember no more” (Heb. 10:17). On that day because of the second miracle—the miracle of the resurrection—we will hear, “Enter into the joy of the Lord” (Mt. 25:21).

It is the reason Jesus was born.

                             

“Two Miracles”  ©2010 Gregory Koukl

Stand to Reason, 1-800-2-REASON

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¹ Note the centurion’s response, “When the centurion…saw the way He breathed His last, he said, ‘Truly, this man was the Son of God.’” (Mk. 15:39)

² The full “trade” combines substitutionary atonement (Jesus dying in our place) with justification (Jesus’ merit credited to our account).

³ I do not know the source of this story.

⁴ Note that since Jesus was God, then God Himself took the punishment we deserve.

⁵ This is the meaning of the word “propitiation”—God’s wrath is satisfied (see 1 Jn. 2:1-2).

⁶ This is not the peace of God (subjective), but rather peace with God (objective) upon which the peace of God is based.

⁷ Here we are talking about 75-99% of professional scholarship, depending on which claim is in question.  Find superb summaries of this approach in Habermas and Licona, The Case for the Resurrection of Jesus (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2004), 43-80 [http://www.amazon.com/Case-Resurrection-Jesus-Gary-Habermas/dp/0825427886], and William Lane Craig, Reasonable Faith, Third Edition (Wheaton:  Crossway, 2008), 348-400. [http://www.amazon.com/Reasonable-Faith-Christian-Truth-Apologetics/dp/1433501155/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1364420204&sr=1-1&keywords=Reasonable+Faith]

⁸ This attempt is clear evidence the body was missing.

⁹ C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory (San Francisco:  HarperCollins: 1949), 41.