As a matter of convenience, many Christians accept that God’s forgiveness applies to their lives every day. But they don’t work with it. They have abandoned the struggle to live dedicated and holy lives for God. Perhaps they have never begun that struggle. They seem to think that an easygoing, lax Christian life is normal.

But is it normal? For which true and upright Christian wouldn’t want to grow in holiness, in faith and enthusiasm; to leave her sins and shortcomings behind more and more; to enjoy a spiritual life in which her sin hardly raises its ugly head anymore and allows itself meekly to be banished into a small dark space below decks, below the surface of her daily life?

Introduction⤒🔗

Who is the boss?←↰⤒🔗

There once was a man who had sailed a ship his whole life. When he became old, he decided to sell the ship. A young man was happy to buy it to make a living. But the bill of sale contained a peculiar term. The old captain was allowed to continue to live in a small cabin on the ship. After all, he was so attached to the ship.

But the solicitor told the young captain explicitly: ‘Listen, you are now the boss of the ship; not him. His only domain is that small cabin of his, and if it gives him pleasure, he is entitled to sail with you everywhere; but he is not entitled to interfere with anything. Remember, it’s your ship! Do you understand?” The young captain replied, “I do, sir.”

Bill of sale←↰⤒🔗

I’ve borrowed the above example from W.J. Ouweneel. He used it to explain that a similar bill of sale is part of the life of Christians. If everything is well, we obey the precepts of the solicitor, the Holy Spirit. The ‘old captain’, the old self that formerly controlled the ship of our life completely, no longer has any say over the ship. But he still lives in us.

He’s not entitled to interfere at all with sailing the ship. If you keep reminding him of that, you will see that he obeys you. He’s fully aware of the terms of the bill of sale. But we are so dumb that we allow him to come out of his little cabin from time to time. Then that shrewd old man with his experience says, ‘Let me take over the rudder for a bit’. And before you know it, he’s taken full control of the ship.

As a believer, you can place yourself under the influence of sin, just like that. How does that happen? Because we forget the precepts of the ‘solicitor’ (the Holy Spirit). Our eyes are no longer focused on the Lord Jesus. His Word is not our daily sustenance. Then we let our prayers slide. We are much too busy with earthly things that drag us down spiritually, or even with worldly things that corrupt us. Our spiritual strength weakens.

Our own stupid fault←↰⤒🔗

According to Ouweneel, the cause is not our sinful nature, nor the fact that we remain ‘sinners’ until we die. No, it is our own stupid fault. The ship is no longer owned by the old captain, our ‘old self’. The ‘old self’ lives in the power of sin; sin governs him. That person came to an end on the cross. When we come to faith, a ‘new self’ replaces that person and Christ governs him by the Holy Spirit. And the Holy Spirit is an enormous strength in us. You must make use of it. When you live in that strength, you will not sin.

And if you say that this is not realistic, you betray unbelief and you disown the strength that Christ wants to work in you by his Spirit.

An appealing argument←↰⤒🔗

The above line of reasoning sounds very appealing. When your bill of sale has been executed and Jesus has become your ‘boss’, it is up to you to live in accordance with that bill of sale. And the strength of the Holy Spirit is at your disposal. So long as you make use of the storehouses of God’s grace and of the activity of the Holy Spirit, you will not sin.

I find the perspective attractive too. I recognize the yearning for a life in which sin does not have a rightful place and ultimately also no longer has any room to operate. That is the goal Christ has for us. Cleansed of all stain, we shall stand spotless before Christ.

I am also attracted by the ‘combat mentality’. An easygoing, lax Christian life is wicked.

Moreover, I find it appealing that you take your point of departure in the ‘bill of sale’: we are not our own, but belong to our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the Lord of my life. He demands my love and lays claim to my time.

Thus, I respect the point of departure, motive, and goal. But that does not mean that I do not have any questions.

Questions←↰⤒🔗

The example presupposes that the ‘old self’ is the ship and that it is governed by the old captain. Is that description correct? Is the point of departure accurate?

I also have questions about the goal depicted in the example. The perspective it gives is that you actually no longer have to sin. It still happens of course, but it should no longer be necessary in this life. Does the example adequately depict the period in which the goal is achieved?

Further, according to the example, you let the old self dominate again when you ‘fall’ into sin. Stupidly, you yield control over the rudder. It’s your own stupid fault. You should have kept the bill of sale in mind all the time. And all this means that sin is always one’s own fault. Is that the whole truth?

Finally, on the one hand, the example says that the ship sails solely under your control, but on the other hand, it is clear that Christ is the owner. But what is the relationship between the control that Christ has over you and your own responsibility? Isn’t the example defective on this point? And does it rightly depict the role of the Spirit when it treats him as the solicitor who explains the bill of sale?

An accurate description?←↰⤒🔗

My questions are focused on the route between the point of departure and the final destination. Is the description of the route accurate? There are enough questions here that mandate a closer examination.

The importance of an accurate description of the normal Christian life is clear. What kinds of expectations may you entertain when you entrust yourself to Jesus Christ in faith? Does that indeed mean that you really no longer need to sin any more? And are you truly unbelieving (as Ouweneel maintains) if you regard this proposition as unrealistic? Does a life based on the ‘bill of sale’ lead to a victorious life, so long as you enter the storehouses of grace and make use of the tremendous powers of the Spirit in us?

In short, is it true that you disown the strength of Christ’s Spirit if you don’t share this point of view? And is it true that you are no longer ‘in the Spirit’ if you do not recognize this point of view in your life?

Tryptich←↰⤒🔗

I shall carry out my exploration of the route between the point of departure and the final destination by reference to its portrayal in Romans 6-8.

I characterize these three chapters as a tryptich. They are like a painting that is made up of three panels. The panels are connected to each other by hinges. You can view each panel individually, be affected by it and be influenced by it. Individually, each ‘panel’ gives its own impression. But only in combination with the other two will you get a good impression of the whole painting and then it becomes clear what the whole wants to convey.

1. Romans 6: Baptism and Conscription←⤒🔗

Baptism←↰⤒🔗

The first panel depicts baptism. Paul is speaking about people who are misusing the royal grace of God. There is an abundance of grace, after all, so why can’t you quietly and without twinges of conscience continue to sin? For you seek forgiveness every day, don’t you? The more you sin, the more grace God will bestow on you. Isn’t that nice?

In that way you hitch God’s royal grace to the cart of your sin. Of course, the consequence is that you continue to grow in an unholy life instead of in sanctification. A man reaps what he sows (Gal 6:7, 8).

Paul strongly opposes this way of dealing with God’s grace. And he uses baptism to support his position. What happened at baptism?

Baptism symbolizes that Christ now owns us. Before, sin (and in it God’s adversary) held us in its harsh grip. Baptism depicts how Jesus Christ assumes authority over us.

Compare this to Israel of old. The nation sighed and groaned under the cruel tyranny of Pharaoh. After they passed through the Red Sea on dry ground, they passed into Moses’ care. That is why Paul writes that the people were all baptized into Moses (1 Cor 10:2). The people came into his custody.

Similarly, Christian baptism signifies that we come under the gracious and loving regime of the Lord Jesus. He acquires full authority over us. On the way to a new earth, his reconciliation, his care, and his holy power govern our existence. Although we are fragile and challenged, during our journey in the wilderness we may build on the solid foundation of God’s promises and his favourable covenant.

You would be a fool were you to go back through the deep water of baptism and become subject again to the devil and sin. That would mean your certain death.

Change in authority←↰⤒🔗

This signifies a radical change from what we were before! Paul draws a comparison with the Lord Jesus himself. During his earthly existence he is weighed down with the unbearable weight of our sin. Day and night he suffers under the claim of God’s wrath. In the end he succumbs to it. That is how he pays all our debt and assuages God’s wrath. His sacrifice is sufficient and therefore complete.

Jesus’ death causes a permanent break. Sin, guilt, and death are forever denied the right to contest what Jesus Christ has earned. Now we have the right to walk with God in a holy, pure, and dedicated way. That is eternal life.

Baptism depicts that God includes us in that reality. We belong to Christ. In life and in death, we are charged to his account. In Christ God cancels our conscription to sin and makes us indebted to the Lord Jesus. His Spirit promises to cleanse our existence and to dedicate it to God. You even receive the right to live forever on God’s new world. An undisturbed and carefree future awaits.

Thus, it is not surprising that Paul phrases the future judgment as: we will live with Christ. Clearly this reality in Christ is not yet actual fact today. This future has not yet been fully realized.

Reality in Christ←↰⤒🔗

It is important that we observe carefully what the first panel actually portrays.

The question was why we should live a holy life. Paul answers it in the metaphorical language of our baptism. The immersion symbolizes our altered status in Christ. Because Christ satisfied God’s justice, we have become his lawful possession. We are transplanted into the kingdom of God’s love. There Satan and his entire kingdom has no say over us anymore. Sin does continue to afflict us, even in our inner being, but in law it no longer has any hold on us.

This does not actually make us into a different person. Our position is similar to that of someone who has lived for years under a merciless dictatorship; on the day he is liberated he is not yet able to handle his newfound freedom.

Precisely by using judicial terminology, Paul makes clear that he is speaking about a judicial reality. It is about a liberation from the guilt of sin and its judicial claims on our existence. It is about being declared not guilty, being declared righteous, and being, in law, free of sin in Christ.

This reality does not take the form of an established fact, but of a promise. That heart-warming promise is something that is certain. That is how God calls forth our faith. It is his Spirit who works our faith. He attributes the salvation that we have in Christ to us. All our certainty lies permanently in Christ.

This change in authority is the basis of faith and it happens by faith, together with all experiences that are characteristic of it.

The painting opens up completely when you use the key of verse 11. Paul does not confirm any fact in that verse. Rather, he makes an urgent appeal: ‘count yourselves dead to sin but live to God in Christ Jesus’. It is a passionate call truly to live out of this reality of faith, that is so strikingly and poignantly portrayed by baptism. Let it be decisive in your faith deliberations, time and time again! Take it into account!

The ‘old self’ — past tense?←↰⤒🔗

When you compare this promised reality in Christ with our actual reality, the images become blurred. If the painting of Romans 6 does not become apparent as intended, it is small wonder that the continuation of the explanation loses its colour. The image is then distorted.

The sacramental image illustrates that you must be very aware of how you use the word ‘power’. Some people say: we no longer have to sin. We are freed and are no longer subject to the power of sin. Our old self is already dead.

That can be expressed very forcefully and positively: our old self has already died. That is a fact! It is a corpse. It is stone-dead. ‘If you say that you have to fight against the ‘old self’ every day, what you saying is that you have to fight a corpse’ (W.J. Ouweneel). Then the word ‘sinner’ is applied exclusively to the period before your conversion. It is applied to people who take no notice of God or his commandments; people who remain in the grip of sin and give in to its many demands without demur.

This explanation raises questions. For example, what exactly is the link between me and my old self?

How should I really look at it: did my old self die on Golgotha? W.J. Ouweneel puts it even stronger: ‘every believer hung on the cross’. This connection between then and now seems unsound to me. My old self died with Christ. That is the promise. From that promise flows the appeal: ‘do not let sin reign in your mortal body’ any longer (Rom 6:12).

It also fails to explain how Paul in Ephesians 4 urges people, whom he first addressed as believers and a holy people in Christ Jesus(!), to put off their old self. This manner of speaking identifies a process, a sanctification trajectory, rather than an actual situation in which the old self has been stone-dead for thousands of years.

By his choice of words, Paul makes clear that the normal Christian life did not always flourish in the first congregations. That reality always drives you back to Christ, leads you to a confession of guilt, and causes you to pray for Christ’s Spirit and for renewed struggle and growth. The verb forms Paul uses in Ephesians denote a process or an effort that constantly begins again: unlearn the old self continually and live out of Christ’s love. Always again, always anew, and therefore always more.

Paul also addresses his letter to the Colossians to ‘holy and faithful brothers’ (Col 1:2). He calls on them to ‘set their hearts on things above, where Christ is’ (Col 3:1). And from this flows that we have to take off our old selves and don our new selves (Col 3:12). This is a continuing activity of faith.

Power and authority are two different things←↰⤒🔗

It is significant that two meanings of the word ‘power’ are being used.

Power can mean authority, jurisdiction. In that sense sin no longer has jurisdiction over us; it can no longer tell us what to do. God has completely taken away its authority to make decisions on our behalf.

But power can also mean strength, influence, impact. In that sense the devil and sin do indeed continue to exercise their influence over believers. The change in authority in baptism symbolizes that believers in Christ are no longer handed over to the power of sin. We are ‘dead’ to sin. But that does not imply that believers have been changed in such a way that sin no longer has power over them and can no longer influence their lives, as if the impact of sin on our lives would not exist so long as we truly believe. If only that were so; if only believers were like death to sin.

Benefit←↰⤒🔗

Despite my probing questions, the unexplained relationships, and a confusing choice of words, I do not want to skip over the benefit this approach gives.

The explanation derived from the motive to do justice to the fundamental change in authority in our lives.

It also began as a protest against a faith that no longer recognizes ourselves as powerless sinners, In that context you cannot say much more than that all we do is tainted and even corrupted by sin. That readily causes a melancholic experience that displays very little joy and does not really stimulate us to live holy lives.

Ouweneel rightly draws attention to the practical danger that people may begin to speak disdainfully about sin. It’s just the way it is and so it no longer keeps you awake at night and you no longer make any real effort to improve your life. By overemphasizing our depraved nature, it may cause you to disparage your sin in your everyday life and consequently also inadequately to honour the impact of the change in authority and the powers of Christ’s Spirit.

2. Romans 7: The Torn Inner Self of the Christian←⤒🔗

Only when the first panel has been properly illuminated can you appraise the inherent worth of the other two panels properly. Then you look at Romans 7 in light of your understanding of the first panel. It is important to keep this in mind. Although many Christians recognize themselves immediately in the life experience of Paul, others take a different view. They maintain that Paul cannot possibly be describing the faith experience of the normal Christian life. Therefore let us have a closer look at the second panel.

God’s law is not to blame . . .←↰⤒🔗

It is striking that Paul continues to speak of the changed position in Christ in the first part of Romans 7. For that purpose he uses the example of a married woman. When her husband dies, she is released from her obligation to be faithful to him. According to the law (of marriage), she is free to enter into a relationship of love and fidelity with another man.

Similarly, Christ’s death has freed us from the life-long obligation to be faithful to sin. He gives us the freedom to enter into another relationship of love and fidelity, namely, with himself. The old law has to give up its claim on our existence and must drop its demands on us.

However, in practice you notice that it is difficult to love Jesus Christ absolutely and exclusively. Is God’s law to blame for that? Paul answers that question with a resounding: ‘Absolutely not!’ God’s law is perfect, beneficial, and good. And God’s claims on our life consist solely of good intentions. They are directed towards life!

But for that reason especially, it becomes apparent how deeply sin has lodged itself in my life. The good instrument of God’s law cuts open my life and uncovers the seriousness of my illness. Then you discover the malignant nature of your sin. In fact, it is so bad that the good, pure regulation of the law provokes my sin into action. Forbidden fruits suddenly seem the most desirable and stimulating. And they are often the most delicious ones, although the aftertaste is usually sour and bitter. You want to do what is forbidden. You do something that is bad for you for one reason or another.

In this way the law entices you from the path of life and moves you in the direction of death. This is totally contrary to God’s loving intention. And so my sin demonstrates its malignant character.

The command was directed  toward life. But we manage to turn its effect into its opposite.

It is our own fault. And . . . our own impotence.

Impotence←↰⤒🔗

Paul examines this impotence in greater detail. And he does so very candidly and personally. His purpose is not to hide behind his impotence and thereby to excuse himself. His impotence is guilt too. In law he is free from sin (Rom 6:7), but as a practical matter he is almost unable to take advantage of his freedom. Even though God treats Paul as alive in Christ and although his guilt is paid, Paul’s sinful inclination has not thereby disappeared like snow in the sun.

He calls himself flesh, sold to sin. That is quite something. Literally he says: ‘I am flesh’, delivered over to sin. In the Bible, ‘flesh’ very often means a human being infected and attacked by sin, weak, impeachable, of a transitory nature, almost dead.

According to his status, Paul is a free man, but in practice his thoughts and actions constantly demonstrate that he is completely tainted with sin. His entire person is affected by it. And he experiences it every day.

You can hear the tears in his voice: ‘I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good.As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me.I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. . . So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me.For in my inner being I delight in God’s law;but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members’ (Rom 7:15-19, 21-23).

Paul is close to despair.

Taken from his own Christian life?←↰⤒🔗

Paul relates a true story. It is taken from his own life.

But at the same time, his life story is also illustrative of the lives of others . . . but of whom?

Does this bitter life experience really fit in the life of a normal Christian? Does it really take into account the all-triumphant power of the Spirit? How does such a despondent attitude square with being ‘dead to sin’, as Romans 6 puts it? Does Romans 7 not tempt you too readily to a dull resignation: ‘we are all sinners, after all, and so we have to rely completely on forgiveness’? Can we really not attain to anything more in this life than that despondent, ‘I want to do it, but I can’t’?

What is Paul’s intention with the use of the first person singular?

Is he perhaps referring to a not-yet regenerated human being? Or is he speaking solely about himself, that is, about his weaker moments in which he lives in his own strength as an unbeliever, without the assistance of the Spirit? Does Paul perhaps place himself in the shoes of others and describe the experience of people who still live subject to the law? Or does he in fact portray a poignant aspect of the normal Christian life?

Filled with the Spirit←↰⤒🔗

When you read the chapter quietly and meditate on it, you discover that it is full of the power of the Spirit. The fact that the Spirit is not actually mentioned is neither here nor there.. In fact, you could say the same about chapter 6. But Paul’s depiction, his painting, is nonetheless ‘spiritual’.

Paul constantly uses the first person singular. He is speaking very personally and uses the present tense. It is inconceivable that he, speaking as a Christian about his Jewish past, would use the present tense. Only by way of a presupposition can you draw the explanation that Paul cannot possibly be speaking about himself as a normal Christian. The text does not indicate that he would suddenly, without any announcement, speak about himself as a ‘not-yet-regenerated Christian’, or a ‘fallen-away-from-Christbeliever’. To suppose that Paul suffered from a chronic relapse into legalism is speculation and is not supported by Scripture.

Paul makes it clear that Romans 7 does not give us a complete picture. Twice, while speaking about himself (vv. 17, 20), he incorporates a reservation. He draws a distinction between his ‘inner being’, in which he delights in God’s law, and the ‘members of [his] body’, which, willy-nilly serve sin. The inner delight in God’s law is clearly the work of Christ’s Spirit.

This perspective on Romans 7 is not, in fact, new. Calvin already wrote that Paul expressed himself this way intentionally, because otherwise he would give the impression that the only thing that exists in this life is the reality of sin. And in that case he would insult God’s grace in us.

Calvin is a representative of the exegesis that, since Augustine, has been adopted by all churches and theologians of Reformed persuasion. All Calvinist and Lutheran reformers regarded Romans 6, 7, and 8 as a tryptich that, together, depicted the normal Christian life.

As you read along, you discover that Paul does indeed take his new position in Christ into account. In fact, he portrays himself from that perspective. But in between the lines he incorporates a certain distinction. Your ‘real’ persona is your identity in Christ. Your flesh is your ‘foreign’ persona.

A different approach←↰⤒🔗

Some commentators defend a different exegesis. It maintains that besides the ‘lower’ level of Romans 7, it is also possible to reach a higher spiritual standard in which you no longer have to sin. In that case, the inner conflict of Romans 7 does not have to play itself out any more in the normal Christian life. Romans 7 is then regarded as an earlier phase of the ‘victorious life’ described in Romans 6 and 8. Supposedly, Paul describes the bitter moments when he falls away from Christ. Either that, or he portrays the disappointing period before his conversion in garish, emotional colours.

But this explanation leads you ineluctably onto the Anabaptist track. The explanation promotes the work of the Spirit in such a way that the brokenness of this creation and the impact of sin can largely be overcome. Anabaptists were, with reason, formerly referred to as ‘spirit drivers’. And this overwhelming word of the Spirit is recognizable especially because it is alive, spontaneous, direct, immediate, spectacular, instinctive, and exceptional. The Spirit soars above the limitations of creation and the sinful brokenness. In doing so, he already anticipates our future glory.

More than ordinary←↰⤒🔗

Merely believing in Jesus Christ is then not enough. Spiritual growth is not primarily a growing love for the Lord Jesus and a growing knowledge of his Word. It does begin with that. But you must experience more. Perhaps God’s grace is enough for the ‘ordinary’ Christian, but a person who is filled with the Spirit experiences more than the ordinary.

It is a condition that there be a longing; a person must be hungry and thirsty for more, for actually being filled with the Spirit of Christ. The decisive question then becomes whether you are truly open to that, whether you really want to receive it. . . For you can have the Spirit, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you are filled with him.

In this way the Christian life quickly becomes a ‘two-phase’ process. From this flows a ‘storeyed’ Christianity. Christians in the first phase constitute the substructure; those in the second phase the superstructure.

Lack of compassion←↰⤒🔗

That this approach can demonstrate a lack of compassion is illustrated by the following quotation from Ouweneel:

There are many believers who allow their lifeblood to be drained away by impurity and malignant thoughts that occupy them, or by cheap worldly entertainment that draws them down. Believers cannot allow themselves these kinds of things, for they keep you down; they don’t allow you to grow.

To lull yourself to sleep with the thought, ‘After all, we remain poor sinners until we die’, is comfortingly cheap. But my response is: What? You are looking for excuses; you have allowed yourself to be dragged under; you have toyed with the new life that is in you. You have not ensured that it would bear fruit, by reading and meditating on the Word of God, having an active prayer life, and regularly attending services with other believers. You have not grown spiritually; you have remained a nursing child. And you discovered that your sinful nature could indeed again become a power in you. In no time it will take over your life and sin will then again hold sway in you. But that is your own stupid fault! It is not God’s fault and it is not because ‘we always remain a poor sinner’. Rather, it is because you have failed to make use of the storehouses of God’s grace and of the power and activity of the Holy Spirit. That is your responsibility, no one else’s.

It is certainly true that it is their own fault when God’s children enmesh themselves in gross and flagrant sins. And the statement, ‘After all, we are but poor sinners’, can be a convenient excuse.

But notice the tone: ‘Woe to you if you say, “Look here, we do, after all remain sinners until we die” You won’t be let off that easily. That you fall is not because of your sinful nature; it is not because you are “after all” poor sinners until you die. No, it is your fault!’

Instead of being refreshed by a shower of grace, we are being pounded by the hailstones of ‘holy necessity’ and ‘your own stupid fault’. The bruised reed breaks.

Merciless←↰⤒🔗

The dilemma appears to be:either you want to become so strong that you no longer have to sin, or you make no use of the power and activity of the Holy Spirit. In the first option, spiritual growth becomes a holy obligation. The condition is that we make use of the Holy Spirit. Apparently we take the initiative. It is no longer God who is free to do or abstain from doing as he wants. No the Holy Spirit and his power are ours to command.

Of course, it won’t be put that strongly in most cases. And that far-reaching consequence will not always be pursued.

But we should be very aware of the fact that this view throws human beings back upon themselves and upon their own will. And that is based on an old heresy, that is still very much alive: ultimately, the perseverance of human beings depends on the free decision of their will.

It is not coincidental that it was precisely on this point that the difference between the Reformed and the Remonstrants became apparent. The key question is: what is the relation between God and a human being? Who ultimately makes the decisions? The heresies of the Remonstrants are quite clear on this point. According to them, it depends on the free will of human beings (Canons of Dort V, Rejection of Errors 2). And that is true not only of the perseverance, but also of justification: whether a person obtains pardon for sin and eternal life, “depends on their own free will, which applies itself to the grace that is offered indifferently” (CD II, R.E. 6). And you encounter the same error in the conversion of human beings: “. . . faith, through which we are first converted . . . is not a quality or gift infused by God, but only an act of man” (CD III/IV, R.E. 6).

Our Reformed fathers pointed out the Pelagian roots of these errors as they rejected them. The poison of these erroneous ideas keeps people bound, conflicts with what Scripture teaches everywhere, and robs God of his honour. The gospel deprives human beings of all reasons for boasting and ascribes the honour for the gift of conversion, faith, and perseverance solely to God’s grace.

It seems inescapable to me that a harsh feature is (unintentionally) introduced into salvation. You are faced with a holy obligation that places a cold-hearted yoke on you just like that. No matter how often the word ‘grace’ is used, at bottom this regime is without grace on this crucial point. It throws a child of God, who wrestles with her sin, just like Paul, back on her own resources. And a person who is left to her own resources is without comfort.

Merciful love←↰⤒🔗

What is missing is the heart-warming, tender love of the Lord Jesus. He promises that he will not break the bruised reed and will not snuff out a smoldering wick (Matt 12:20). What is also lacking is that at bottom it is God who makes our dead will alive, so that we then also want to produce the fruit of good works (CD III/IV, 11). It is he who, according to his good pleasure (!), works in us to will and act (Phil 2:13). And I do not read anything about God’s guidance by which he, as the Almighty, can allow regenerate people, through their own fault (!), to turn aside and be tempted by their sinful desires (CD V, 4). I do not wish to detract from that fault at all, but clearly more can be said. And I should have liked to hear more. Not in order to discover another convenient excuse, but to do justice to the relation between God and human beings and to make sure that we do not lose our hold on him.

Ultimately, it does not depend on what a person desires, or on his effort, but on God’s mercy (Rom 9:16). The Lord promises us in the gospel that he will keep us ‘strong to the end’, so that we ‘will be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ’ (1 Cor 1:8). It is the encouraging blessing that innumerable young people receive when they publicly confess their faith and trust in God. ‘The one who calls you is faithful and he will do it’ (1 Thess 5:24).

From the cross we hear the call that gives us rest: ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened’ (Matt 11:28). Doesn’t the Spirit of Christ always bring us back to the cross and refresh us there?

Thanks be to God, Christ has also completed my salvation: he is perfect, in my place.

Also as I strive to be holy, Christ remains my sole righteousness before God (Heidelberg Catechism, Answ. 62), even though my conscience accuses me without ceasing.

Nonetheless, God gives me Christ, who loves me and is moved by compassion. He is proffered to me in the gospel.

When you let all of this sink in, you will realize that the heart beat of the Reformation remains of vital importance. God comes to me only in Scripture (sola Scriptura). I can live only out of grace, also in my sanctification (sola gratia). And only by faith does Christ and his salvation become mine (sola fide). All honour is due to God alone (soli Deo gloria)!

Motives←↰⤒🔗

What motives lead some people to maintain that there is no room in the ‘normal Christian life’ for Romans 7?

Do we pay attention to Paul’s appeal in Romans 6:11: ‘count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus’? Is the transfer of authority to Christ decisive in our reflections and decisions about faith? Do we place our heartfelt trust in him? Are we personally and lovingly devoted to Jesus Christ? Do we also truly let him be the Lord and Master of our life?

Do we, as Christians, experience more than the bitter and disappointing reality of Romans 7? Are we perhaps stuck in a faith for which we constantly exert ourselves, but continually lose ground and hardly grow in sanctification? Is that readily accompanied by legalism?

Do we seek our identity as Christians in recognized conduct, established rules, and predictable habits, or do we seek it in the first place by following Christ and in listening to his voice?

And further, what are our expectations of the overwhelming power of the Spirit?

A deeper layer←↰⤒🔗

There can be other motives when you regard Romans 7 as ‘not normal’.

At some point you’re just tired of that tepid and lethargic Christianity. You yearn for more spiritual growth, more faith experience, more victory over sin. Perhaps you yourself have experienced that God is working marvellous things in you. So you recommend the step-by-step plan of Romans 6 and 8 as the remedy for the counterproductive effect of Romans 7.

Perhaps you feel yourself readily inferior and unrecognized. You find little rest in Christ. It is difficult enough to confront your shortcomings and faults honestly. And it feels as if Romans 7 just pours salt in the wound. Perhaps you are even projecting your own (hidden) feelings of guilt and of not being up to the mark onto your surroundings. For as a Christian you ought to be able to do more.

It should be obvious that the last-mentioned causes are often accompanied by a complex of religious and psychological motives. It would take us too far off track to delve more deeply into them. However, I do draw attention to possible psychological discontent and hidden feelings of guilt and anger, or both, by which the bitter reality of Romans 7 is repelled. It causes you so much inner pain and frustrates your deepest longings. A denial of Romans 7 and the actual reality in your own life then readily become an escape route.

Internal conflict←↰⤒🔗

When you become obsessed with Romans 7, you do indeed get a depressing image of a Christian, although it is specifically and typically Reformed. And then it is understandable that you register your protest against it.

But your resistance can also motivate you to excise the depiction of Romans 7 out of the tryptich. In consequence, only Romans 6 and 8 depict the full reality of an exuberant spiritual growth. And Romans 7 does not possibly fit in that.

But in both cases you do not do justice to the full reality of Christ and our existence that is torn apart by sin. The tryptich depicts the whole of the Christian life. You may certainly view and study the panels separately, but you must also recognize them as part of the whole. The principle is not: either living through the Spirit, or relapsing into the flesh. The power of Christ’s Spirit and the actuality of our sin are both real and are prevalent in one and the same human being.

The old self is not yet dead, but it’s had its day. Christ earned the right to liquidate the old self in the end. In the course of time the Spirit makes what we already have in Christ our own.

When we believe that, we become entangled in a fierce struggle. Flesh fights against the Spirit, and the other way round. Inwardly we are being devoured (Gal 5:13ff). Although that process can be very painful, it does not at all have to cause us to despair. For our new self is of Christ. It is a promising creation of his Spirit, a new creation. It is still young and immature, but it is brimming over with a zest for life and is full of perspective on the future. The glimmer of victory is apparent in that internal conflict.

Who shall rescue us from this bodily existence that is doomed to die and that, of itself, is devoted exclusively to sin?

Our only hope is Jesus Christ, our Lord and Master. We belong to him from eternity.

That hope makes us alive.

3. Romans 8: the fragile wonder of new life←⤒🔗

Expectantly we turn to the third panel.

But the images of the first and second panels remain etched in our memory. Only then does the image of Romans 8 receive it’s necessary contrast and do its vivid colours receive their depth.

New life←↰⤒🔗

For one thing is certain. The truth of Christ is greater and reaches further than just Romans 7. For Christ’s sake we must say more that that we are ‘just sinners’. Our existence is not marked solely by justification, nor by the endless back and forth movement between sinning and being forgiven without ever making progress in faith, love and sanctification.

There is also life in us through the Spirit!

That is a shout of jubilation, an ecstatic cry of joy, such as is made with the birth of new life under the sun. Life does not consist solely of setbacks. It is not all sorrow and trouble.

We believe in the Spirit of life, who is Lord and makes alive. He calls what doesn’t exist in us into existence. Christ earned that right too. His Spirit breathes life into us; that’s how we become a new living being, a two-legged wonder, like a creation out of nothing, and like the astonishing resurrection of a loved one who died.

That is also part of the impact of the assumption by Christ of authority. Baptism symbolizes our immersion, not only in Christ’s blood, but also in his Spirit. Denial, neglect, or violation of that promising reality would seriously short-change Christ and his Spirit.

Learning to walk←↰⤒🔗

The law of sin claimed our existence and led ineluctably to death. But the law of the Spirit of life draws us out of the law of sin.

Here too, Paul depicts the law as a power that makes claims on you and has authority over you. This law exercises power; it claims your time, your heart, your emotions, and your intellect; and it demands your entire existence. It is the Spirit of the Lord who lovingly claims our existence. He lets us experience that there is more to life than sin, guilt, wrath, sorrow, and trouble. That is how life germinates through the Spirit.

This does not mean that the internal conflict of Romans 7 is suddenly behind us like a completed phase. The normal life of a Christian incorporates both our impotence and the power of the Spirit simultaneously.

This does not mean that God’s good law is abolished. But in the new life we learn to walk, not in our own strength, but through the Spirit. And we do that by obeying God’s commandments (v. 4) and with ups and downs.

Our inclination is what motivates us (vv. 5ff). What is our most profound desire? What is our intention? What motivates our inner longing?

Those questions ask us about the focus of our love. Is it made captive by Christ and therefore does it pursue sanctification? For without being sanctified, no one will see the Lord.

Also in Romans 8, Paul keeps the (distant?) future before our eyes. When the Spirit of him, who raised Jesus from the dead, lodges with and resides in us, then he, who raised Jesus from the dead, will also make our dying bodies alive through the power of his Spirit in us.

Growing pains←↰⤒🔗

But that doesn’t make life by the Spirit a ‘victorious life’. The Spirit of Christ lives in us. He talks candidly with us about sharing in the suffering of Christ. He talks about:

• Grief and pain in the present.
• Anxiously and longingly looking forward to the coming of the Lord Jesus.
• Fruitlessness.
• Transitoriness.
• Groaning and sighing.
• The pain that accompanies the birth of this new life.
• Hoping for what you do not yet see or experience.
• Persevering expectation.
• Our own laments, which are inexpressible.

The Spirit from heaven knows life on earth like no other. And he fathoms the depths of the human heart, He knows about grief, misery, persecution, hunger, poverty, supernal powers, and invisible powers above or beneath us. And he knows about the inescapable grip of death.

But when we know ourselves to be embedded in the work of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, ‘we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him’ (v. 28). God, who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us, will also graciously give us all those other things. And when God declares us righteous in Christ, all the other charges fade away.

Now that the Lord Jesus is inviolable and has been highly exalted, his bond of love with us is indestructible. No earthly power can separate us from God, who loves us in Jesus Christ, our ‘Owner’. He earned that right.

It is a reassuring fact, even when God’s children are treated as cattle to be slaughtered, or prodded like sheep without a Shepherd. For despite all that, we are conquerors, through Jesus Christ who loved us (v. 37).

I deliberately spent some time considering the third panel. We must listen to what the Spirit of Christ says. His victory dawns. But he will only be fully victorious when we stand beside Christ, unscathed and healed. He will make our humbled existence like his glorious body.

We shall see him as he is!

A promising identity←↰⤒🔗

That too is a promising fact. But it is not yet a clear reality. God has promised the restoration of our lives and the healing of our injuries. In that promise, we walk in faith, but not in sight. The banishment of our sin is also a process. Our old self is dying, but is still quite capable of convulsions. The new self is maturing, but can still be vulnerable and lacking in vitality and a zest for living.

And that is something more than our ‘own fault’. It is God’s policy that he already delivers us from the tyranny and slavery of sin. Lovingly and graciously he gives us the right of existence in the kingdom of his Son. He often does this even though we don’t request it and while we are still young. But it also his policy not to free us entirely in this life from the flesh and the body of sin (CD V, 1).

Why is that? We hanker for more — more growth, more faith, more love, more sanctification, more . . . Why does he use this approach?

In this way the Lord is busy to deepen our insight into our sin. It scares you every time. You grow in amazement and thankfulness for your deliverance. And then you abandon your old self more and more and learn to praise the Lord Jesus. You also remain moved by others. When they fall into sin, you have no reason to poke fun at them or arrogantly to pillorize them.

In short, slowly but surely you become a person in Christ. His Spirit opens your eyes and lets you discover how clearly the tryptich of Romans 6-8 depicts the reality of the normal Christian life.

Perfect reality←↰⤒🔗

When you look at the tryptich of Romans 6-8 from that perspective, you don’t have to banish Romans 7 from the normal Christian life.

You do not, today, have to grab hold of the glory that glimmers on the horizon, not even by suggesting that already now we no longer have to sin, so long as we . . . When you respect Romans 6 in your faith life, you will never be satisfied with yourself, find rest in your sin, or settle for an imperfect sanctification. When your recognize that Romans 7 is part of your own life, you do not have to think of yourself as a backsliding Christian. When you are confronted by your own impotence you can only fall back on Christ!

When you meditate on Romans 8 and make it your own, you begin to look forward to your golden future.

Then you live by the Spirit, cherishing and nourishing the new self, in the profound understanding that after suffering a little while, God’s children will share in Christ’s glory. And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace will restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the glory (1 Pet 5:10, 11).

All boasting is excluded.

I have enjoyed unearned blessings from my God.

And I boast in his free favour alone.

Questions for Discussion←⤒🔗

1. Let us consider baptism for a minute. To what extent do we truly believe that in Christ a radical change in authority takes place in our lives? How does the consequent new ‘compulsory service’ affect our choices and considerations?
2. While sin no longer has a rightful claim on us, what do you still experience of its influence and pull? Do you recognize the attitude that Paul opposes in Romans 6:1: that we should continue to sin, because there’s lots of grace to go round?
3. Do you recognize the bitter experience and the fierce internal conflict that Paul describes in Romans 7? Tell each other something about that.
4. Why do you suppose that our Reformed fathers opposed the ‘Pelagian errors’ so strongly in the Canons of Dort? What do you think about that? What is so significant for the Reformed confession about this principial position?
5. Can you relate anything about the wonder of the ‘new life’ in the Spirit from your own experience? How do you experience and appreciate that?
6. What do you recognize about the growing pains that Romans 8 describes?
7. Do you recognize the difference between the protest against a lethargic, detached Christian attitude on the one hand, and the risk of a rushed and restless faith live on the other hand? How do you steer a middle course between these two rocks and find your rest in Christ?