Sin And It's Consequences
Essays by J. Gresham Machen
Contents*
What is sin? It is a question that we
cannot ignore.
From false answers to it have come untold disaster to mankind and to
the
church, and in the right answer to it is to be found the beginning of
the
pathway of salvation.
How shall we obtain the answer to that momentous question? I think we
can make
a very good beginning by just examining the Biblical account of the way
in
which sin entered into the world. That account is given in the Book of
Genesis
in a very wonderful manner. The language is very simple; the story is
told
almost in words of one syllable. Yet how profound is the insight which
it
affords into the depths of the human soul!
"And the Lord God," says the Bible, "commanded the man, saying,
Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: but of the tree of
the
knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day
that thou
eatest thereof thou shalt surely die" (Genesis 2:16-17). It has been
observed that no reason is said to have been given to Adam to tell him
why he
should not eat of that tree, and it has been said that that fact is
perhaps
significant. Eating of the tree was not in itself obviously wrong; the
command
not to eat of it was not reinforced by any instinct in man's nature. It
appeared therefore all the more clearly as a sheer test of obedience.
Would man
obey God's commands knowing simply that they were God's commands,
knowing that
because He gave them they had some quite sufficient reason and were
holy and
just and good? How clearly and simply that is brought out in the
narrative in
the Book of Genesis!
An equal simplicity and an equal profundity characterize the following
narrative — the narrative of the temptation and the fall. Adam and Eve
were in
the garden. The serpent said to the woman, "Yea, hath God said, Ye
shall
not eat of every tree of the garden?" (Genesis 3:1)
I think we can detect even there the beginnings of the temptation. The
woman is
asked to eye the things that God has forbidden as though they were
desirable
things. It is hinted that the commands are hard commands; it is hinted
that
possibly they might even have involved the prohibition to eat of any of
the
trees of the garden.
Perhaps an attempt is made to cast doubt upon the very fact of the
command.
"Hath God said?" says the tempter. The woman is asked to
envisage God's command as a barrier which it would be desirable to
surmount. Is
there no loophole? Has God really commanded this and that? Did He
really mean
to prohibit the eating of the trees of the garden?
The woman's reply states the fact — certainly in the main. God's
command did
not prohibit the eating of all the trees in the garden, but only of one
tree.
"And the woman said unto the serpent, We may eat of the fruit of the
trees
of the garden: but of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of
the
garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch
it, lest
ye die" (Genesis 3:2-3).
Then at last there comes a direct attack upon the truthfulness of God.
"Thou shalt surely die," said God: "Ye shall not surely
die," said the tempter. At last the battle is directly joined. God,
said
the tempter, has lied, and He has lied for the purpose of keeping
something
good from man. "Ye shall not surely die," said the tempter: "for
God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be
opened,
and ye shall be as God, knowing good and evil" (Genesis 3:4-5).
At that point the question arises in our minds what the element of
truth was in
those words of the tempter. Those words were a lie, but the truly
devilish lies
are those that contain an element of truth, or, rather, they are those
lies
that twist the truth so that the resulting lie looks as though it
itself were
true.
Certainly it was true that by eating the forbidden fruit Adam attained
a
knowledge that he did not possess before. That seems to be indicated in
verse
22 of the same chapter of the Book of Genesis, where we read: "And the
Lord God said, Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and
evil" (Genesis 3:22). Yes, it does seem to have been true that when he
ate
of the forbidden fruit man came to know something that he had not known
before.
He had not known sin before; now he knew it. He had known only good
before; now
he knew good and evil. But what a curse that new knowledge was, and
what an
immense loss of knowledge as well as loss of everything else that new
knowledge
brought in its train! He now knew good and evil; but, alas, he knew
good now
only in memory, so far as his own experience was concerned; and the
evil that
he knew he knew to his eternal loss. Innocence, in other words, was
gone.
What would have been the advance which resistance to that first
temptation
would have brought to Adam and Eve? It would have meant that the
possibility of
sinning would have been over. The probation would successfully have
been
sustained; man would have entered into a blessedness from which all
jeopardy
would have been removed.
The advance which a successful resistance to the temptation would have
brought
would also have been an advance in knowledge. That tree was called the
tree of
the knowledge of good and evil. Well, there is perhaps a real sense in
which it
would have been to man a tree of the knowledge of good and evil even if
he had
not eaten of the fruit of it. If he had resisted the temptation to eat
of the
fruit of that tree, he would have come to know evil in addition to the
knowledge that he already had of good. He would not have known it
because he
had fallen into it in his own life, but he would have known it because
in his
resistance to it he would have known it because in his resistance to it
he
would have put it sharply in contrast with good and would deliberately
have
rejected it. A state of innocence, in other words, where good was
practiced
without any conflict with evil, would have given place to a state of
assured
goodness which evil would have been shown to have no power to disturb.
Such was the blessed state into which God was asking man to come. It
was a
state which included what I think we can call a knowledge of good and
evil.
Certainly it was a state in which the difference between good and evil
would
have been clearly discerned. There was a right way and a wrong way of
seeking
to attain discernment. The right way was the way of resistance to evil;
the
wrong way was the way of yielding to it.
The ancient lie is put into men's hearts again and again and again that
the
only way to attain a state higher than innocence is to have experience
of sin
in order to see what sin is like. Sowing wild oats is thought to be
rather a
good way of transcending childish innocence and of attaining strong and
mature
manhood.
Do you know how that lie can best be shown to be the lie that it is?
Well, my
friends, I think it is by the example of Jesus Christ. Do you despise
innocence? Do you think that it is weak and childish not to have
personal
experience of evil? Do you think that if you do not obtain such
experience of
evil you must forever be a child?
If you have any such feeling, I just bid you contemplate Jesus of
Nazareth.
Does He make upon you any impression of immaturity or childishness? Was
He lacking
in some experience that is necessary to the highest manhood? Can you
patronize
Him as though He were but a child, whereas you with your boasted
experience of
evil are a full-grown man?
If that is the way you think of Jesus, even unbelievers, if they are at
all
thoughtful, will correct you. No, Jesus makes upon all thoughtful
persons the
impression of complete maturity and tremendous strength. With
unblinking eyes
He contemplates the evil of the human heart. "He knew what was in
man" (John 2:25), says the Gospel according to John. Yet He never had
those experiences of sin which fools think to be necessary if innocence
is to
be transcended and the highest manhood to be attained. From His
spotless purity
and His all-conquering strength, that ancient lie that experience of
evil is
necessary if man is to attain the highest good recoils naked and
ashamed.
That was the lie that the tempter brought to Adam and Eve in the garden
of
Eden. Man was told to seek discernment in Satan's way and not in God's.
Had man
resisted the temptation what heights of knowledge and strength would
have been
his! But he yielded, and what was the result? He sought to attain
knowledge,
and lost the knowledge of good; he sought to attain power, and lost his
own
soul; he sought to become as God, and when God came to him in the
garden he hid
himself in shameful fear.
It is a sad story indeed. But it is the beginning and not the end of
the Bible.
The first chapters of the Bible tell us of the sin of man. The guilt of
that
sin has rested upon every single one of us, its guilt and its terrible
results;
but that is not the last word of the Bible. The Bible tells us not only
of
man's sin; it also tells us of something greater still; it tells us of
the
grace of the offended God.
The Consequences
of the Fall
of Man
Man, as created, was good. God
created man in His own image, in
knowledge,
righteousness, and holiness. Well, then, if God created man good, how
comes it
that all men now are bad? How did sin pass into all mankind? What
caused this
stupendous change from good to bad?
Sin came into the world through the sin of Adam. Adam's descendants do
not
begin life sinless as he began it. They begin it tainted in some way or
other
with the sin that Adam committed. If Adam transgressed, he was to die.
Death was
to be the punishment of disobedience. Well, he did transgress. What
then
happened? Was Adam the only one who died? Did his descendants begin
where he
began? Did they have placed before them all over again that same
alternative
between death and life that was placed before Adam? The Book of Genesis
indicates the contrary very clearly. No, the descendants of Adam
already,
before they individually made any choices at all, had that penalty of
death
resting upon them.
What, then, does that mean? Adam was the divinely appointed
representative of
the race. If he obeyed the commandments of God, the whole race of his
descendants would have life; if he disobeyed, the whole race would have
death.
I do not see how the narrative in the Book of Genesis, when you take it
as a
whole, can mean anything else.
That view of the matter becomes more explicit in certain important
passages of
the New Testament. In the latter part of the fifth chapter of Romans,
in
particular, the Apostle Paul makes it plain. "Through one trespass,"
he there says, "the judgment came unto all men to condemnation"
(Romans 5:18). "Through the one man's disobedience," he says in the
next verse, "the many were made sinners." In these words and all
through this passage we have the great doctrine that when Adam sinned
he sinned
as the representative of the race, so that it is quite correct to say
that all
mankind sinned in him and fell with him in his first transgression.
There is a
profound connection between Adam and the whole race of his descendants.
God said to Adam that if he disobeyed he would die. What is the meaning
of that
death? Well, it includes physical death; there is no question about
that. But,
alas, it also includes far more than physical death. It includes
spiritual
death; it includes the death of the soul unto things that are good; it
includes
the death of the soul unto God. The dreadful penalty of that sin of
Adam was
that Adam and his descendants became dead in trespasses and sins. As a
just
penalty of Adam's sin, God withdrew his favor, and the souls of all
mankind
became spiritually dead. The soul that is spiritually dead, the soul
that is
corrupt, is guilty not only because of Adam's guilt but also because of
its own
sin. It deserves eternal punishment.
The doctrine of the wrath of God is not a popular doctrine, but there
is no
doctrine that is more utterly pervasive in the Bible. Paul devotes to
it a
large part of three chapters out of the eight chapters in his great
Epistle to
the Romans which he devotes to the exposition of his message of
salvation, and
he is at particular pains to show that the wrath of God rests upon all
men
except those who have been saved by God's grace. But there is nothing
peculiar
in that great passage in the first three chapters of Romans. That
passage only
puts in a comprehensive way what is presupposed from Genesis to
Revelation and
becomes explicit in passages almost beyond number.
Does the teaching of Jesus form any exception to the otherwise
pervasive
presentation of the wrath of God in the Bible? Well, you might think so
if you
listened only to what modern sentimentality says about Jesus of
Nazareth. The
men of the world, who have never been born again, who have never come
under the
conviction of sin, have reconstructed a Jesus to suit themselves, a
feeble
sentimentalist who preached only the love of God and had nothing to say
about
God's wrath. But very different was the real Jesus, the Jesus who is
presented
to us in our sources of historical information. The real Jesus
certainly
proclaimed a God who, as the Old Testament which he revered as God's
Word says,
is a "consuming fire" (Deuteronomy 4:24; compare Hebrews 12:29). Very
terrible was Jesus' own anger as the Gospels describe it, a profound
burning
indignation against sin; and very terrible is the anger of the God whom
He
proclaimed as the Ruler of heaven and earth. No, you certainly cannot
escape
from the teaching of the Bible about the wrath of God by appealing to
Jesus of
Nazareth. The most terrible even among the Biblical presentations of
God's wrath
are those that are found in our blessed Savior's words.
Where do you find the most terrible descriptions of hell in the whole
of the
Bible? It is Jesus who speaks of the sin that shall not be forgiven
either in
this world or that which is to come; it is Jesus who speaks of the worm
that
dieth not and the fire that is not quenched (Mark 9:48); it is Jesus
who has
given us the story of the rich man and Lazarus and of the great gulf
between
them (Luke 16:19-31); it is Jesus who says that it is profitable for a
man to
enter into life having one eye rather than having two eyes to be cast
into hell
fire (Matthew 18:9). It appears in the Sermon on the Mount; it appears
of
course in the great judgment chapter, the twenty-fifth of Matthew; it
appears
in passages too numerous to mention. It is not somewhere on the
circumference
of his teaching, but is at the very heart and core of it.
I do not believe we always understand quite clearly enough how great is
the
divergence at this point between the teaching of Jesus and current
preaching.
Men are interested today in this world. They have lost the
consciousness of
sin, and having lost the consciousness of sin they have lost the fear
of hell.
They have tried to make Christianity a religion of this world. They
have come
to regard Christianity just as a program for setting up the conditions
of the kingdom of God upon this earth, and they are tremendously
impatient when anyone looks upon
it as a means of entering into heaven and escaping hell.
I have mentioned the Biblical teaching about hell simply because it is
necessary in order that you may understand the Biblical teaching about
sin. The
awfulness of the punishment of sin shows as nothing else could well do
how
heinous a thing sin really is in the sight of God.
I have tried to present to you in outline something like the whole
picture —
man guilty with the imputed guilt of Adam's first sin, man suffering
therefore
the death that is the penalty of that sin, not only physical death but
also
that spiritual death that consists in the corruption of man's whole
nature and
in his total inability to please God, man bringing forth out of his
corrupt
heart individual acts of transgression without number, man facing
eternal
punishment in hell. That is the picture that runs all through the
Bible.
Mankind, according to the Bible, is a race lost in sin; and sin is not
just a
misfortune, but is something that calls forth the white heat of the
divine
indignation. Before the awful justice of God no unclean thing can
stand; and
man is unclean, transgressor against God's holy law, subject justly to
its
awful penalty.
As I try to present that picture to you, I think you as well as I are
impressed
with the fact that the men of the present day for the most part will
have none
of it. They will not admit at all that mankind is lost in sin. I
remember a
service that I attended some years ago in a little church in a pretty
village.
The preacher was distinctly above the average in culture and in moral
fervor. I
do not remember his sermon (except that it was a glorification of man);
but I
do remember something that he said in his prayer. He quoted that verse
from
Jeremiah to the effect that the heart of man is "deceitful above all
things, and desperately wicked" (Jeremiah 17:9), and then he said in
his
prayer, as nearly as I can remember his words: "O Lord, thou knowest
that
we no longer accept this interpretation, but now think that man does
what is
right if only he knows the way." Well, that was at least being frank
about
the matter. We have a good opinion of ourselves these days, and if so,
why
should we not let the Lord in on our secret? Why should we go on
quoting with a
sanctimonious air confessions of sin from the Bible if we really do not
believe
a word of them? I think the prayer of that village preacher was bad —
very bad
— but I also think that perhaps it was not so bad perhaps as the
prayers of
those preachers who have really rejected the central message of the
Bible just
as completely as he had and yet conceal the fact by the use of
traditional
language. At least that prayer raised the issue clearly between the
Biblical
view of sin and the paganism of the modern creed, "I believe in man."
At the very foundation of all that the Bible says is this sad truth —
that
mankind is lost in sin. The Bible teaches, we have observed, that every
man
comes into the world a sinner. It is against that doctrine that the
chief
attack has been made; and I want to say a few words to you about the
attack in
order that the Bible doctrine which is attacked may become the more
clear. The
attack has come to be connected with the name of a British monk who
lived in
the latter part of the fourth and the early part of the fifth century
after
Christ. His name was Pelagius. In contravention of the Biblical
doctrine, Pelagius
said that every man, far from being born with a corrupt nature, begins
life
practically where Adam began it, being perfectly able to choose either
good or
evil.
The Bible plainly teaches that sinful actions come from a corrupt
nature of the
man who commits them, that individual wrong choices come from the
underlying
state of the person who engages in them. A man is morally responsible
for wrong
choices springing out of his evil nature, and he is responsible for the
evil
nature out of which those wrong choices spring. Sin is not just a
matter of
individual actions. Both the bad actions and also the bad state from
which the
bad actions come are sin.
I am going to quote one passage from the teaching of Jesus as recorded
in the
Gospels and then I am going to ask you whether that one passage does
not sum up
the teaching of the whole Bible on this point. "Either make the tree
good,
and his fruit good: or else make the tree corrupt, and his fruit
corrupt: for
the tree is known by his fruit. O generation of vipers, how can ye,
being evil,
speak good things? for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth
speaketh. A
good man out of the good treasure of the heart bringeth forth good
things: and
an evil man out of the evil treasure bringeth forth evil things."
(Matthew
12:33-35) In the light of these words of Jesus, so simple and so
profound, how
utterly shallow the whole Pelagian view of sin is seen to be! According
to
Jesus, evil actions come from an evil heart, and both the actions and
the heart
from which they come are sinful.
That view is the view of the whole Bible. There is in the Bible from
beginning
to end no shadow of comfort for the shallow notion that sin is a matter
only of
individual choices and that a bad man can, without being changed
within, suddenly
bring forth good actions. No, the Bible everywhere finds the root of
evil in
the heart, and by the heart it does not mean just the feelings but the
whole
inner life of man. The heart of man, it tells us, is deceitful above
all things
and desperately wicked, and because of that, man is a sinner in the
sight of
God. An evil man inevitably performs evil actions; the thing is as
certain as
that a corrupt tree will bring forth corrupt fruit: but the evil man
performs
those evil actions because he wants to perform them; they are his own
free
personal acts and he is responsible for them in the sight of God.
The Bible from beginning to end plainly teaches that individual sins
come from
a sinful nature, and that the nature of all men is sinful from their
birth.
"Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive
me" — these words of the Fifty-first Psalm summarize, in the cry of a
penitent sinner, a doctrine of sin that runs through the Bible from
Genesis to
Revelation. Upon that Biblical view of sin depends also the Biblical
view of
salvation. Does the Bible teach that all Christ did for us is to set us
a good
example which we are perfectly able to follow without a change of our
hearts?
The man who thinks so is a man who has not come even to the threshold
of the
great central truth which the Scriptures contain. "Ye must be born
again," said Jesus Christ (John 3:7). There is no hope whatever for us
until we are born again by an act that is not our own; there is no hope
that we
shall really choose the right until we are made alive by the Spirit of
the
living God.
Nothing that fallen and unregenerate men can do is really well-pleasing
to God.
Many things that they do are able to please us, with our imperfect
standards,
but nothing that they do is able to please God; nothing that they do
can stand
in the white light of His judgment throne. Some of their actions may be
relatively good, but none of them are really good. All of them are
affected by
the deep depravity of the fallen human nature from which they come.
That brings us to another aspect of the great Biblical doctrine of
depravity.
It is found in the complete inability of fallen man to lift himself out
of his
fallen condition. Fallen man, according to the Bible, is unable to
contribute
the smallest part of the great change by which he is made to be alive
from the
dead. Men who are dead in trespasses and sins are utterly unable to
have saving
faith, just as completely unable as a dead man lying in a tomb is
unable to
contribute the slightest bit to his resurrection. When a man is born
again, the
Holy Spirit works faith in him, and the man contributes nothing
whatever to
that blessed result. After he has been born again, he does cooperate
with the
Spirit of God in the daily battle against sin; after he has been made
alive by
God, he proceeds to show that he is alive by bringing forth good works:
but
until he is made alive he can do nothing that is really good; and the
act of
the Spirit of God by which he is made alive is a resistless and
sovereign act.
Man, according to the Bible, is not merely sick in trespasses and sins;
he is
not merely in a weakened condition so that he needs divine help: but he
is dead
in trespasses and sins. He can do absolutely nothing to save himself,
and God
saves him by the gracious, sovereign act of the new birth. The Bible is
a
tremendously uncompromising book in this matter of the sin of man and
the grace
of God.
The Biblical doctrine of the grace of God does not mean, as caricatures
of it
sometimes represent it as meaning, that a man is saved against his
will. No, it
means that a man's will itself is renewed. His act of faith is his own
act. He
performs that act gladly, and is sure that he never was so free as when
he
performs it. Yet he is enabled to perform it simply by the gracious,
sovereign
act of the Spirit of God.
Ah, my friends, how precious is that doctrine of the grace of God! It
is not in
accordance with human pride. It is not a doctrine that we should ever
have
evolved. But when it is revealed in God's Word, the hearts of the
redeemed cry,
Amen. Sinners saved by grace love to ascribe not some but all of the
praise to
God.
We come now to ask what sin at bottom
is. Widely
different answers have been given to this question, and with these
different
answers have gone different views of the world and of God and of human
life.
The true answer is to be obtained very clearly in the Bible; but before
I
present that true answer to you, I want to speak to you about one or
two wrong
answers, in order that by contrast with them the true answer may be the
more
clearly understood.
In the first place, many men have notions of sin which really deprive
sin of
all its distinctiveness, or, rather, many men simply deny the existence
of
anything that can properly be called sin at all. According to a very
widespread
way of thinking in the unbelief of the present day, what we popularly
call
morality is simply the accumulated experience of the race as to the
kind of
conduct that leads to racial preservation and well-being. Tribes in
which every
man sought his own pleasure without regard to the welfare of his
neighbors
failed, it is said, in the struggle for existence, whereas those tribes
that
restrained the impulses of their members for the good of the whole
prospered
and multiplied. By a process of natural selection, therefore, according
to this
theory, it came more and more to be true that among the races of
mankind those
that cultivated solidarity were the ones that survived.
In the course of time — so the theory runs — the lowly origin of these
social
restraints was altogether lost from view, and they were felt to be
rooted in
something distinctive that came to be called morality or virtue. It is
only in
modern times that we have got behind the scenes and have discovered the
ultimate identity between what we call "morality" and the
self-interest of society. Such is a very widespread theory. According
to that
theory "sin" is only another name — and a very unsatisfactory name
too — for anti-social conduct.
What shall we say of that notion of sin from the Christian point of
view? The
answer is surely quite plain. We must reject it very emphatically.
"Against thee, thee only, have I sinned," says the Psalmist (Psalm
51:4). That is at the very heart of the Bible from beginning to end.
Sin,
according to the Bible, is not just conduct that is contrary to the
accumulated
experience of the race; it is not just anti-social conduct: but it is
an
offence primarily against God.
Equally destructive of any true idea of sin is the error of those who
say that
the end of all human conduct is, or (as some of them say) ought to be,
pleasure. Sometimes the pleasure which is regarded as the goal to be
set before
men is the pleasure of the individual — refined and thoroughly
respectable
pleasure no doubt, but still pleasure. Such a view has sometimes
produced lives
superficially decent. But even such superficial decency is not apt to
be very
lasting, and the degrading character of the philosophy underlying it is
certain
to make itself felt even on the surface sooner or later. Certainly that
philosophy can never have a place for any notion that with any
propriety at all
could be called a true notion of sin.
Sometimes, it is true, the pleasure which is made the goal of human
conduct is
thought of as the pleasure, or (to use a more high-sounding word) the
happiness, not of the individual but of the race. According to that
view,
altruism — namely, regard for the greatest happiness of the greatest
number —
is thought to be the sum-total of morality.
Thus we have seen in the newspapers recently a good deal of discussion
about
"mercy-killing" or "euthanasia". Certain physicians say
very frankly that they think hopeless invalids, who never by any chance
can be
of use either to themselves or to anyone else, ought to be put
painlessly out
of the way. The modern advocates of euthanasia are arguing the thing
out on an
entirely different basis from the basis on which the Christian argues
it. They
are arguing the question on the basis of what is useful — what produces
happiness and avoids pain for the human race. The Christian argues it
on the
basis of a definite divine command. "Thou shalt not kill" (Exodus
20:13) settles the matter for the Christian. From the Christian point
of view
the physician who engages in a mercy-killing is just a murderer. It may
also
turn out that his mercy-killing is not really merciful in the long run.
But
that is not the point. The real point is that be it never so merciful,
it is
murder, and murder is sin.
The views of sin that we have considered so far are obviously opposed
to
Christianity. No Christian can hold that morality is just the
accumulated
self-interest of the race, and that sin is merely conduct opposed to
such
self-interest. The Christian obviously must hold that righteousness is
something quite distinct from happiness and that sin is something quite
distinct from folly.
What, then, is sin? We have said what it is not. Now we ought to say
what it
is. Fortunately we do not have to search very long in the Bible to find
the
answer to that question. The Bible gives the answer right at the
beginning in
the account that it gives of the very first sin of man. What was that
first sin
of man, according to the Bible? Is not the answer perfectly clear? Why,
it was
disobedience to a command of God. God said, "Ye shall not eat of the
fruit
of the tree"; man ate of the fruit of the tree: and that was sin. There
we
have our definition of sin at last.
"Sin is any want of conformity unto, or transgression of, the law of
God." Those are the words of the Shorter Catechism, not of the Bible;
but
they are true to what the Bible teaches from Genesis to Revelation. The
most
elementary thing about sin is that it is that which is contrary to
God's law.
You cannot believe in the existence of sin unless you believe in the
existence
of the law of God. The idea of sin and the idea of law go together.
That being so, I ask you just to run through the Bible in your mind and
consider how very pervasive in the Bible is the Bible's teaching about
the law
of God. We have already observed how clear that teaching is in the
account
which the Bible gives of the first sin of man. God said, "Ye shall not
eat
of the fruit of the tree". That was God's law; it was a definite
command.
Man disobeyed that command; man did what God told him not to do: and
that was
sin. But the law of God runs all through the Bible. It is not found
just in
this passage or that, but it is the background of everything that the
Bible
says regarding the relations between God and man.
Consider for a moment how large a part of the Old Testament is occupied
with
the law of God — the law as it was given through Moses. Do you think
that came
by chance? Not at all. It came because the law is truly fundamental in
what the
Bible has to say. All through the Old Testament there is held up a
great
central thought — God the lawgiver, man owing obedience to Him. How it
is,
then, with the New Testament? Does the New Testament obscure that
thought; does
the New Testament depreciate in any way the law of God? "Think not,"
said Jesus, "that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am
not
come to destroy, but to fulfill" (Matthew 5:17).
Consider for a moment, my friends, the majesty of the law of God as the
Bible
sets it forth. One law over all — valid for Christians, valid for
non-Christians, valid now and valid to all eternity. How grandly that
law is
promulgated amid the thunderings of Sinai! How much more grandly still
and much
more terribly it is set forth in the teaching of Jesus — in His
teaching and in
His example! With what terror we are fain to say, with Peter, in the
presence
of that dazzling purity: "Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O
Lord" (Luke 5:8) Nowhere in the Bible, in the teaching of Jesus our
Savior, do we escape from the awful majesty of the law of God — written
in the
constitution of the universe, searching the innermost recesses of the
soul,
embracing every idle word and every action and every secret thought of
the
heart, inescapable, all-inclusive, holy, terrible. God the lawgiver,
man the
subject; God the ruler, man the ruled! The service of God is a service
that is
perfect freedom, a duty that is the highest of all joys; yet it is a
service
still. Let us never forget that. God was always and is forever the
sovereign
King; the whole universe is beneath His holy law.
This law is grounded in the infinite perfection of the being of God
Himself.
"Be ye therefore perfect," said Jesus, "even as your Father
which is in heaven is perfect" (Matthew 5:48). That is the standard. It
is
a holy law, as God Himself is holy. If that be the law of God, how
awful a
thing is sin! Not an offence against some rule proceeding from temporal
authority or enforced by temporal penalties, but an offence against the
infinite and eternal God!
I know that some of my hearers regard what I have been saying as being
no more
worthy of consideration than the hobgoblins and bogies with which
nurses used
to frighten naughty children. An outstanding characteristic of the age
in which
we are living is a disbelief in anything that can be called a law of
God and in
particular a disbelief in anything that can properly be called sin. The
plain
fact is that the men of our day are living for the most part in an
entirely
different world of thought and feeling and life from the world in which
the
Christian lives. The difference does not just concern this detail or
that: it
concerns the entire basis of life; it concerns the entire atmosphere in
which
men live and move and have their being. At the heart of everything that
the
Bible says are two great truths, which belong inseparably together —
the
majesty of the law of God, and sin as an offence against that law. Both
these
basic truths are denied in modern society, and in the denial of them is
found
the central characteristic of the age in which we are living.
Well, what sort of age is that; what sort of age is this in which the
law of
God is regarded as obsolete and in which there is no consciousness of
sin? I
will tell you. It is an age in which the disintegration of society is
proceeding on a gigantic scale. Look about you, and what do you see?
Everywhere
the throwing off of restraint, the abandonment of standards.
The consciousness of sin alone leads men to turn to the Savior from
sin, and
the consciousness of sin comes only when men are brought face to face
with the
law of God. But men have no consciousness of sin today, and what are we
going
to do? I remember that that problem was presented very poignantly in my
hearing
some time ago by a preacher who was sadly puzzled. Here we are, said
he. We are
living in the twentieth century. We have to take things as we find
them; and as
a matter of fact, whether we like it or not, if we talk to the young
people of
the present day about sin and guilt they will not know what we are
talking
about; they will simply turn away from us in utter boredom, and they
will turn
from the Christ whom we preach. Is not that really too bad? he
continued. Is it
not really too bad for them to miss the blessing that Christ has for
them if
only they would come to Him? If, therefore, they will not come to
Christ in our
way, ought we not to invite them to come in their way? If they will not
come to
Christ through the consciousness of sin induced by the terror of the
law of
God, may we not get them to come through the attraction of the amiable
ethics
of Jesus and the usefulness of His teaching in solving the problems of
society?
I am afraid that in response to such questions we shall just have to
answer,
"No." I am afraid we shall just have to say that being a Christian is
a much more tragic thing than these people suppose. I am afraid we
shall just
have to tell them that they cannot clamber over the wall into the
Christian
way. I am afraid we shall just have to point them to the little wicket
gate,
and tell them to seek their Savior while yet He may be found, in order
that He
may rescue them from the day of wrath.
But is that not utterly hopeless? Is it not utterly hopeless to try to
get the
people of the twentieth century to take the law of God with any
seriousness or
to be the slightest bit frightened about their sins? I answer,
Certainly it is
hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. As hopeless as it is for a camel to pass
through
the eye of a needle. But, you see, there is One who can do hopeless
things.
That is, the Spirit of the living God.
The Spirit of God has not lost His power. In His own good time, He will
send
His messengers even to a wicked and adulterous and careless generation.
He will
convict men of sin; He will break down men's pride; He will melt their
stony
hearts. Then He will lead them to the Savior of their souls.
Is Mankind Lost
in Sin?
We have spoken of the first sin of man, and we have spoken of the
question,
"What is sin?" The question now arises what consequences that first
sin of man has had for us and for all men. Some people think it had
very slight
consequences — if indeed these people think that there ever was a first
sin of
man at all, in the sense in which it is described in the third chapter
of
Genesis.
I remember that some years ago, when I was driving home in my car after
a
summer vacation, I stayed over Sunday in a certain city without any
particular
reason except that I do not like to travel on that day. Being without
any
acquaintance with the city, I dropped into what seemed perhaps to be
the
leading church in the central part of the town.
What I heard in that church was typical of what one hears in a great
many
churches today. It was the Sunday on which new teachers were being
inducted
into office. The pastor preached a sermon appropriate to the occasion.
There
are two notions about the teaching of children in the Church, he said.
According to one notion, the children are to be told that they are
sinners and
need a Savior. That is the old notion, he said; it has been abandoned
in the
modern Church. According to the other notion, he said, which is of
course the
notion that we moderns hold, the business of the teacher is to nurture
the
tender plant of the religious nature of the child in order that it may
bear
fruit in a normal and healthy religious life.
Was that preacher right, or was what he designated as the old notion
right? Are
children born good, or are they born bad? Do they need, in order that
they may
grow up into Christian manhood, merely the use of the resources planted
in them
at birth, or do they need a new birth and a divine Savior?
That is certainly a momentous question. We may answer the question in
this way
or in that, but about the importance of the question I do not see how
there can
well be any doubt. That preacher, in the church of which I have spoken,
recognized the importance of the question. He answered the question
that he
raised quite wrongly, but at least he was right in looking the question
fairly
in the face. I propose that we should imitate that preacher in facing
the
question fairly, even though our conclusion may turn out to be
different from
his. Is each man the captain of his own soul, and a pretty capable
captain too,
or is all mankind lost in sin? Does the Bible teach that children are
born into
the world good (or at least evenly balanced between badness and
goodness), or
does it teach that all save one child are born in sin?
When we approach the Bible with that question in our minds, one thing
is at
once perfectly clear. It is that the Bible from Genesis to Revelation
teaches
that all men (with the one exception of Jesus Christ) are as a matter
of fact
sinners in the sight of God. In one great passage, particularly, that
truth,
that all men are sinners, is made the subject of definite exposition
and proof.
That passage is found in Romans 1:18 - 3:20. There the Apostle Paul,
before he
goes on to set forth the gospel, sets forth the universal need of the
gospel.
All have need of the gospel, he says, because all without exception are
sinners. The Gentiles are sinners. They have disobeyed God's law, even
though
they have not that law in the particularly clear form in which it was
presented
to God's chosen people through Moses. Because they have disobeyed God's
law,
and as a punishment for their disobedience of it, they have sunk deeper
and
deeper into the mire of sin. The Jews also, says Paul, are sinners.
They have
great advantages; they have a special revelation from God; in
particular they
have a supernatural revelation of God's law. But it is not the hearing
of the
law that causes a man to be righteous but the doing of it; and the
Jews, alas,
though they have heard it, have not done it. They too are transgressors.
So all have sinned, according to Paul. He drives that truth home by a
series of
Old Testament Scripture quotations beginning with the words: "There is
none righteous, no, not one: there is none that understandeth, there is
none
that seeketh after God. They are all gone out of the way, they are
together
become unprofitable; there is none that doeth good, no, not one."
(Romans
3:10-12)
I think it is hardly too much to say that if this Pauline teaching
about the
universal sinfulness of mankind is untrue, the whole of the rest of
that
glorious Epistle, the Epistle to the Romans, falls to the ground.
Imagine Paul
as admitting that a single mere man since the fall ever was righteous
in the
sight of God, not needing, therefore, redemption through the precious
blood of
Christ; and you see at once that such a Paul would be a totally
different Paul
from the one who speaks in every page of the Epistle to the Romans and
in every
one of the other Pauline Epistles that the New Testament contains. The
light of
the gospel, in the teaching of Paul, stands out always against the dark
background of a race universally lost in sin.
Is the case any different in the rest of the Bible? I care not at this
point
whether you turn to the Old Testament or to the New Testament.
Everywhere there
is the same terrible diagnosis of the ill of mankind.
"Two men," said Jesus, "went up into the temple to pray, the one
a Pharisee, and the other a publican. The Pharisee stood and prayed
thus with
himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are,
extortioners,
unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week,
I give
tithes of all that I possess. And the publican, standing afar off,
would not
lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast,
saying, God
be merciful to me a sinner." (Luk 18:10-13)
Which of these two men received a blessing from God when he prayed
there in the
temple — the man who thought he was an exception to God's call to
repentance or
the one who beat upon his breast and confessed himself a sinner? Jesus
tells us
very plainly. The publican went down to his house justified rather than
the
other. Ah, my friends, how terrible is the rebuke of Jesus again and
again and
again for those who think that they form exceptions to the universal
sinfulness
of mankind!
A rich young ruler came running to Jesus one day, and asked him, "Good
Master, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?" Jesus
repeated
to him a number of the commandments. The man said, "All these have I
observed from my youth." Jesus said, "One thing thou lackest: go thy
way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor." The young man
went
away sorrowful. (Mark 10:17-22) He lacked something; he was not good as
God
regards goodness. The point is that every man always lacks something.
No man
comes up to God's standard; no man can inherit the kingdom of God if he
stands upon his own obedience to God's law.
Did you ever observe what incident comes just before this incident of
the rich
young ruler in all three of the Synoptic Gospels — in Matthew and in
Mark and
in Luke? It is the incident of the bringing of little children to
Jesus, when
Jesus said to the disciples, as reported in Mark and similarly in Luke:
"Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he
shall not enter therein" (Mark 10:15). There is a profound connection
between these two incidents, as there is also a connection of both of
them with
the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican which in Luke immediately
precedes.
Some years ago I heard a sermon on the incident of the Rich Young
Ruler. What
are the sermons that we are apt to remember? I think they are the
sermons where
the preacher does not preach himself but where he truly unfolds the
meaning of
some great passage of the Word of God.
The sermon of which I am now thinking is one which was preached some
time ago
in a Philadelphia church by my colleague, Professor R. B. Kuiper. He
took the
incident of the Rich Young Ruler together with the incident of the
bringing of
the little children to Jesus, and he showed how both incidents teach
the same
great lesson — the lesson of the utter helplessness of man the sinner
and the
absolute necessity of the free grace of God. You cannot depend for your
entrance into the kingdom of God upon anything that you have or
anything that
you are. You must be as helpless as a little child. Your reliance
cannot be on
your own goodness, for you have none. It can only be upon the grace of
God.
God has told us that we are sinners; He has told us in His own holy
Word from
beginning to end. Well may the Apostle John say, in view of the whole
of the
Bible: "If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar" (I
John 1:10). God is not a liar, my friends. This world is lost in sin.
Some time ago I heard a sermon on this
text by a preacher who has now
retired.
The sermon was not one that I agreed with altogether, but the beginning
of it,
I thought, was interesting. The preacher said that during the preceding
summer
he had met in a chance sort of way, on one of the steamers of the Great
Lakes, a gentleman who turned out to be a man of large affairs, but a
man who had
little to do with the church. Incidentally the conversation turned to
religious
matters, and the man of business gave to the preacher the benefit of a
little
criticism. The criticism was perhaps not unworthy of attention. "You
preachers," the outsider said, "don't preach hell enough."
Usually the criticism which is leveled at the church by men who know
nothing
about it is as valueless as ignorant criticism is in other spheres. But
in this
case I am inclined to think that the critic was right. We preachers do
not
preach hell enough, and we do not say enough about sin. We talk about
the
gospel and wonder why people are not interested in what we say. Of
course they
are not interested. No man is interested in a piece of good news unless
he has
the consciousness of needing it; no man is interested in an offer of
salvation
unless he knows that there is something from which he needs to be
saved. It is
quite useless to ask a man to adopt the Christian view of the gospel
unless he
first has the Christian view of sin.
But a man will never adopt the Christian view of sin if he considers
merely the
sin of the world or the sins of other people. Consideration of the sins
of
other people is the deadliest of moral anodynes; it relieves the pain
of
conscience but it also destroys moral life. Many persons gloat over
denunciations of that to which they are not tempted; or they even gloat
over
denunciations, in the case of other people, of sins which are also
really
theirs. King David was very severe when the prophet Nathan narrated to
him his
sordid tale of greed. "As the Lord liveth," said David, "the man
that hath done this thing shall surely die." But Nathan was a
disconcerting prophet. "And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man."
(II Samuel 12:5, 7) That was for David the beginning of a real sense of
his
sin. So it will also be with us.
Of course it seems quite preposterous that we should be sinners. It was
preposterous also for King David seated on his throne in the majesty of
his
royal robes. It was preposterous, but it was true. So also it is
preposterous
for us. It seems to be a strange notion to treat respectable people as
sinners.
In the case of college men, it seems particularly absurd. College men
look so
pleasant; it seems preposterous to connect them with the dreadful fact
of sin.
Some time ago I was reading, I think in a journal published in London,
a review of a book that dealt with religious conditions among
university men or
young people. The author of the book spoke of the moral ideals of the
young men
of the present day as being summed up in the notion of being a good
sport. The
young men of the present day, it was said in effect, may not use the
old
terminology of guilt and retribution, but they dislike the man who does
not
know how to play fairly a match of lawn tennis and does not know how to
take
defeat like a gentleman. The remark of the reviewer, I thought, was
eminently
just. Surely, he said, with regard to this very common lawn tennis view
of sin
— surely, he said, among university men "there are grimmer facts than
these."
He was right, and we know he was right. He was right about university
men in England; he was right about college men in America; and he was
right about the rest of us as well.
There are grimmer facts than poor lawn tennis and poor sport,
regrettable though
that no doubt is. There is, in general, in a thousand ugly forms, the
grim fact
of sin.
So when I speak of sin I am not talking to you about the sin of other
people,
but I am talking to you about your sin, and I am talking to myself
about my
sin. I am talking about that particular battle ground where you come to
grips
with the power of evil and where you meet your God.
Suppose that on that battle ground we have met defeat. What is the
result? The
answer of the text and the answer of the whole Bible is short and
plain.
"The wages of sin," says the Bible, "is death" (Romans
6:23). I shall not pause just now to consider in detail what Paul means
by
"death" — except just to point out this interesting fact that if you
want to find the most terrible descriptions of this eternal death you
will find
them not in Paul but in Jesus. It is the custom nowadays to appeal from
the
supposedly gloomy theology of Paul to the supposedly sunny philosophy
of Jesus;
but the strange things is that it is Jesus, not Paul, who speaks of the
outer
darkness and the everlasting fire and of the sin that shall not be
forgiven
either in this world or in that which is to come. Paul is content in
his
Epistles to treat of the punishment of sin with some reserve — a
reserve very
impressive and very terrifying, it is true — but Jesus is more
explicit. Jesus
makes abundantly plain that the offender against God's law is facing
something
far more dreadful, to say the least, than mere annihilation would be.
The
teaching of Jesus has at the very center of it the fear of God and the
fear of
hell. No human law without sanction is complete; a law without a
penalty is an
altogether worthless and pitiful thing. Are God's laws of this pitiful
kind?
There are some people who seem to think that they are. But as a matter
of fact
God's laws have attached to them sanctions compared with which all
human
penalties are as nothing.
The fact appears even in the course of this world. There is a deadly
inexorableness about the laws of nature. Offend against the laws of
health, and
the result follows with a terrible certainty; no excuses will avail;
crying and
tears will count nothing; the retribution, however deferred, is sure.
In the
sphere of the physical life, it is certainly clear that the wages of
sin is death.
But many people think that the paymaster can be cheated, that after a
life of
sin we can present ourselves hopefully at the cashier's window and be
paid in
some different coin from that which we have earned. Do you really agree
with
them? Do you really think that in this accounting you can cheat? Do you
really
think that by care in the physical sphere you can avoid the
consequences of
sin? There is something within us that tells us that such is not the
case;
there is something within us that reveals the abyss over which we are
standing,
that brushes aside our petty excuses, that reveals in the inner, moral
sphere,
as in the physical realm, the same terrible inexorableness of law. God
grant
that we may not deceive ourselves! God grant that we may not hope to
cheat! God
grant that we may learn in time that the wages of sin is death!
There is a definiteness and certainty about wages. Wages are different
from a
spontaneous gift; wages, unlike a gift, are fixed. A man has done his
week's
work; he presents himself at the paymaster's desk, and is paid off; the
matter
is not discussed; the employee does not try then to strike a bargain
with the
cashier. The amount of the payment has been determined beforehand, and
the
payment itself is a purely formal, impersonal affair. So it is,
somewhat, with
the wages of sin. The wages have been fixed already. I do not mean that
all
sins are punished alike; no doubt at God's judgment seat there is a
delicacy of
discrimination quite impossible under human laws. And I do not mean
that the
penalty of sin follows merely by a natural law that is independent of
God. But
however the law has been established, it is, when once established,
inexorable.
It is quite useless for a man to argue about the penalty of his sin; it
is
useless in the physical sphere of the laws of health, and it will be
useless
when we appear at last before Him who knows the secrets of the heart.
Let us
not deceive ourselves, my friends. The moral constitution of the
universe is a
very terrible thing. Let us not think that we can trifle with it. The
world is
governed by inexorable law. And that law establishes by an immutable
decree the
dreadful consequences of sin. The wages of sin is death.
At that point some preachers stop. Here stopped, for example, the noted
preacher
whose sermon gave us our text and our subject today. The terribleness
of sin
and the inexorableness of law — it is writ large in the physical
organism of
man and in the whole course of nature. It is also writ large in the
Bible. But
the Bible, unlike nature, does not stop here. "The wages of sin is
death" — it is a great truth, but it is not the end of our text. The
wages
of sin is death — that is the law. But the Bible contains more than the
law; it
contains also the gospel. "The wages of sin is death, but the free gift
of
God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 6:23).
The free gift is contrasted with wages. Yet men persist in dragging it
down to
the wage level; they persist in trying to make the gift of God a
product of
some law. They persist in regarding salvation as proceeding by some
natural
process from faith or from some other quality of men. They regard
Christianity
as founded upon permanent principles of religion instead of being
founded upon
an unexpected piece of news. When will the vain effort be abandoned?
Salvation
is nothing, or it is a free gift; it is not a principle that has been
discovered but an event that has happened.
The trouble is that we are unwilling to take God at His word. We
persist in
endeavoring to save ourselves. If we have learned to any degree that
lesson of
the law, if we have come to have a horror of sin, we persist in
thinking that
it depends upon us to get rid of it. We try to make use of our own
moral
resources in this struggle, and we fall yet deeper and deeper into the
mire.
When shall we take God at His word? When shall we simply accept, in
faith, the
gift of salvation which He has offered?
It is certainly worth accepting. It consists in "eternal life." We
need not now ask in detail what that means. But certainly it is as
glorious as
the "death" with which it is contrasted is terrible. It is certainly
happiness as contrasted with woe, but it is far more than happiness. It
involves service, and it involves the presence of God.
The free gift of God is an absolutely unaccountable event in the life
of every
man who accepts it. It is not the natural working out of a principle,
but it is
a thing that happens. But that happening in the soul is the result of a
happening in the sphere of external history. The free gift of God is
eternal
life in Christ Jesus our Lord. There we have the central
characteristic
of our religion; the central characteristic of Christianity is that it
is not
founded merely upon what always was true but primarily upon something
that
happened — something that took place near Jerusalem at a definite time
in the
world's history. In other words, it is founded not merely upon
permanent truths
of religion, but upon a "gospel," a piece of news.
The Christian preacher, be he ever so humble, is entrusted with that
gospel. We
could not hope to be listened to if we had merely our own thoughts;
there are
so many others in the world wiser and more learned than we. But in a
time of
peril in a beleaguered city the humblest of day-laborers is more worth
listening to than the greatest of orators, if he has news. So it is
with the
Christian preacher in this deadly peril of the soul. The wages of sin
is death
— that is the law. But at the decisive point Christ has taken the wages
upon
Himself — that is the gospel. Inexorable is the moral law of God. But
God's
mercy has used, and triumphed over, His law. We deserved eternal death;
but
Christ died instead of us on the cross. Shall we accept the gift? The
result
will be a fresh start in God's favor and then a winning battle against
sin.
"The wages of sin is death; but the free gift of God is eternal life in
Christ Jesus our Lord."