Romans 7 15-25 2005
Pentecost 7, Romans 7: 15-25
July 3, 2005
St. Paul’s Riddle
After Henry Britton
Introduction: In the trivia magazine, Mental_floss, they recently catalogued the “25 most important questions in the history of the universe.” Here are some questions for you. Not important questions, but questions nonetheless: Why do snooze buttons only give you nine more minutes of sleep? Why can’t you tickle yourself? Those big clocks in the parlor — why do we call them “grandfather clocks?” “Why does Hawaii have Interstate highways”? It’s unlikely that these questions have crossed your mind, but they’ve crossed someone’s mind. They also included more riddles like the ones we asked as kids. How do rabbits travel? By hareplane. What did the sock say to the foot? You’re putting me on. What do whales like to chew? Blubber gum.
Questions intrigue us, even if they’re trivial or humorous in a grade-school sort of way. And then sometimes we get hit with questions that stop us in our tracks, puzzles that confuse us and contradictions that perplex. Like the dilemma the apostle Paul poses in our text: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (7:15). He repeats himself in verse 19: “For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.”
Here’s a mystery and riddle that matters: Why do we do what we don’t want to do, and — the related question — why don’t we do the good that we want to do?
The answer to Paul’s question has to begin with sin. In Paul’s experience, sin is more than a bad deed, evil action or wrong decision. It’s a power, a principle, a propensity, a preference and predisposition that pervades his inner self, and dwells deep within him like a something that programs his every move. As New Testament scholar Paul Meyer says, it’s the worm at the core of the apple. It’s sin with a capital S. The action (sin), “What I do,” is the outcome of the state of Sin within him. It’s the poisoned fruit of the tree.
The Apostle Paul has got bad DNA; he’s been immersed in a corrupted gene pool. Augustine calls it “original sin,” and Luther call it “total depravity.” It’s a problem that corrupts his relationship with God and neighbor. This predisposition causes him to do the things he hates, it prevents him from doing what is right, and it causes him to do evil. “Now if I do what I do not want,” he concludes, “it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells in me” (v. 20).
We can certainly relate to Paul’s inner struggle. Sin is what causes us to gossip with our friends when we know we shouldn’t, to cheat on school assignments against our better judgment, to waste time on the job when we don’t want to, to look at women or men in lustful ways, ashamed even as we do it. We may abuse drugs and alcohol, snap at friends and loved ones, covet wealth and material possessions, turn a blind eye to the needs of others; we may do the illegal thing instead of the legal because we want to save a buck. We do all these things and more. We do these things when we know full well what course of action we should take — but don’t.
The ancient Socrates, proposed that no one chooses evil or chooses to act in ignorance. We pursue what is good, but fail to achieve it because of ignorance, or we lack the knowledge as to how to obtain what is good, or how to do what is right. Aristotle, who lived after Socrates, scoffed at the notion. Simple observation of human behavior, he said, tells us that an individual might know what is best, right and true, yet still do what’s bad, wrong and false. Moreover, if evil is not done deliberately or voluntarily, then evil is an involuntary act.
Our own life and times show us that Socrates got it wrong, and that Aristotle and the apostle Paul got it right. We could cite Bill Clinton’s own assessment of his behavior. Then there are the Tonya Hardings of the world, the Pete Roses, and the millions of people who persist in destructive behaviors and who are afflicted by addiction. So with Paul, we agree: “I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do” (7:19).
Even worse, our best intentions are often thwarted by our sinfulness. Sin would seem to play a corrupting role in every deed we do. We do a good deed, and hope we’ll be rewarded for it. We work hard, and end up becoming workaholics. We make a sacrifice for someone else, and feel selfish pride about our selfless act.
The evidence of Sin, and its corrupting effects is everywhere. It is in The schoolroom and school yard. It is in the home and the office, at work and at play, they way we farm, do business, it’s in our politics, in communities and nations.
You know the drill. Sin. It’s all over. Not to say that everything we do is completely sinful, but that every dimension of our life — personal, community, national, global — is tainted by Sin. Still, there is no excuse for sin. We are still held accountable for what we do and what we say, for what we don’t do and for what we don’t say.
So where does this leave us? What — or who — will get us out of this mess? Paul puts it this way: “Who will rescue me from this body of death?” (7:24). “Thanks be to God,” he continues, “though Jesus Christ our Lord!” (7:25). The only solution to total depravity is total grace, a grace that comes to us through our faith in Jesus Christ.
Paul sees this as a rescue. This perspective is typical of those who see themselves as caught in an event, situation or crisis that is now beyond their control. We find ourselves in situations and crisis that are beyond our control. We need some one outside of ourselves to rescue us.
Stories have emerged in the aftermath of the tsunami of people who — if left to their own devices—would have perished. They are alive today because someone intervened, someone passing by, search-and-rescue teams, friends or relatives. In the Pennsylvania coal mine disaster of a few years ago, some of those who were rescued called it a miracle. They were lost, trapped in the dark and it seemed doomed do die, without help from beyond themselves. Then there is Baby Jessica — the story that captured the headlines over 25 years ago. The baby Jessica McClure fell into a drain pipe in her back yard while playing. She was stuck in the pipe about 20 to 30 feet down and it took rescuers all day to get her out. There was fear that if they shook the earth too much with machinery they could cause Jessica to fall further down and die. Jessica could not help herself. She needed a rescuer
Rescue. That’s what Paul — what we — are looking for. Good intentions won’t rescue us. More education, more money, more discipline, more time, more second chances. None of this will rescue us. Jesus Christ is our Rescuer. It was costly for Him. He was sent by His Father to live and die on the cross in the process of rescuing all people from their overwhelming bondage to sin. He did this expecting nothing in return because we have nothing to offer. Even our faith in Him and our trust in Him as our Savior, our rescuer, is a gift from God. Because of Jesus we have received God’s undeserved favor, His grace.
What did Paul discover as he pondered the riddle before him? It is that through Jesus Christ the rescue has already taken place. Now, it is our business to live as though it were true. That is to say, there’s no point staying in the coal mine when the rescue has been accomplished. No point staying at the bottom of a well. No point in clinging to a tree in the middle of a raging river. No point clinging to an old resentment. No point refusing to forgive. No point cheating, lusting, fighting, carping, harping, stealing, lying — any of these things. It’s not who we are!
Does this mean we become perfect? Not quite. We’re forgiven, not flawless. And Paul knows that there is always a war going on between the flesh and the spirit. But the riddle is solved. Why do I do the bad I don’t want to do, and don’t do the good I do want to do? Because of the power of Sin that is activated when I “serve” the “flesh.” It’s part of our life as we live in a fallen world and live in corrupted bodies of flesh. But when we remember who we are, then we can know what it means to be “rescued” and to live the way God wants us to.
There is a power at work in us that is stronger than ourselves, stronger than our sin. We know there is, because we are baptized children of God, and the Spirit of God does indeed live in us. He came to live in us at Baptism; he renews His presence within us every time we partake of Holy Communion; He is renewing his presence within us right now, as in faith we listen to his Word and trust his promise.
In today’s Gospel our Savior said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28). And then he adds, “Take my yoke upon you . . . for my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (vv 29–30). The yoke of the law condemns our sin and sinful natures and crushes us under its weight. But the yoke of Christ is no burden at all because it frees us from the condemnation of our sin and our insane propensity to sin, even when we don’t want to. The yoke of Jesus Christ is forgiveness. “My yoke is easy and my burden is light. It is, indeed. Because the Gospel of Christ tells us that our standing before God is a gift, not achievement. On the cross Christ gained for us our standing before God. We enjoy God’s love and his favor because of Christ. Our faith didn’t cause that. Neither did our obedience. Nothing in us caused anything in God! We don’t cause God to do anything! Rather, God’s grace, his undeserved love, is the cause of our faith and our obedience . . . and the strength that enables us to continue to struggle against sin. God’s grace enables to understand that while we struggle we are forgiven for the sake of Jesus Christ and what He did on the cross. Amen. And thus, the riddle of St. Paul is solved. Building blocks?