The Groaning Captive's Deliverance 2
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II. The ELIVERANCE that he obtained—"I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord."Now what did he thank God for? Shall I be missing the Apostle's mind, do you think, if I say that he had reason to thank God for his conflict? I do not mean to say that was altogether his mind here. He thanked God for his victory, I readily and cheerfully admit; but had he not reason also to thank God for the previous conflict? Is not previous conflict a subject for praise? Had he not learned lessons in that conflict which could not have been taught him in any other way? You have felt guilt. Was not that guilt a mercy? You have felt condemnation. Was not that sense of condemnation a mercy? You have been purged out of an empty profession. Was not that a mercy? You have had the chaff of self-righteousness and false faith fanned away by the strong north wind of the Spirit. Was not that a mercy? You have sunk so low in your soul that none but God Himself could deliver you. Was not that a mercy? Surely it is! Whatever prepares the soul for mercy, must be mercy; whatever fits the soul for the reception of Jesus must be a mercy; whatever winnows away the dust and chaff of SELF must be mercy, for it prepares the soul for a blessed Immanuel.
Then we have reason to thank God for every feeling of guilt we have passed through, for every temptation we have been perplexed with, for every tear of contrition that has trickled down our cheek, for every sob of sorrow that has heaved from our bosom. For every feeling of misery, guilt and wretchedness, we have reason to bless His name; for our choicest mercies spring out of them, and our richest blessings are only blessings just so far as these painful exercises have prepared the soul for the enjoyment of them.
But no doubt the mind of the Apostle was chiefly directed to thank God for the gift of His dear Son—"I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord." Now, if you have followed me in my attempt to unfold the cause of the Apostle's cry, you will see there were three things that produced it. There was—
1. the condemnation of the law;
2. the revival of sin;
3. the internal conflict between nature and grace.
Now, when he thanks God through Jesus Christ, he thanks Him for having provided a remedy for each and all in the Person, work and mediation of His only-begotten Son.
1. Look at the guilt of sin. How can we be delivered from the guilt of sin, the curse of the law, its holy condemnation, and its thundering vengeance? By no other way than by the blood of the Lamb, that precious blood which "cleanses from all sin," that only propitiation, that wondrous sacrifice which the Son of God offered on Calvary's tree. There is no other way to obtain pardon; there is no other way to find peace; there is no other mode of enjoying reconciliation with God; there is no other way by which the law's thunderings are to be silenced, the curse removed, and the condemnation blotted out. The peace-speaking blood of Immanuel in the conscience is the only remedy for the soul that knows painfully the curse of the law, and the condemnation produced by it.
2. And so with respect to the revival of sin. What does the revival of sin teach us? Does it not teach us this (as the Apostle says, Rom. 5:21)—"Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound." How am I to know the super-aboundings of grace—the lengths, breadths, depths and heights of the dying love of Jesus? Must I not know them by finding painfully and personally the aboundings of sin? Then, just in proportion as I am daily led into a knowledge of the depth of the Fall; as I feel the workings of sin in my carnal mind, and find how it abounds in me; just in that proportion only can I know, and value when I know, the super-aboundings of grace.
It is a mercy, therefore, to know the workings of sin in our hearts. Men may cast their contemptuous reflection on what they call "corruption." But I am sure of this, that in order to prize grace and value Jesus, to love Him as "the chief among ten thousand, and the altogether lovely One," we must know personally and painfully the aboundings of sin and corruption in our carnal mind. The greater the sinner, the greater the saint; the deeper the fall, the higher the recovery; the more painful the sensations of guilt that the conscience experiences, the more is the balmy blood of Immanuel prized. So that not to know corruption in its painful workings, is not to know pardon, peace, or the super-aboundings of sovereign grace.
3. So with respect to the internal conflict. The Apostle saw "there was no condemnation to them that were in Christ Jesus"; that though they were tried and tempted, though they were harassed and exercised, though an unceasing conflict took place in their bosom, yet they were not to be condemned for it, for they were savingly interested in the love and blood of the Lamb.
III. But this leads me to the solemn RESOLUTION that Paul came to. Just observe, he had experienced two things in his soul. He had experienced the curse of the law and the blessing of the gospel; the aboundings of sin and the super-aboundings of grace; the knowledge of himself and the knowledge of Christ. Now, the knowledge of these two things brought him, in his conscience, to this solemn resolution—"So then, with my mind I myself serve the law of God; but with the flesh the law of sin." Does the Apostle mean by these words to justify sin? Does he intend to say that he was now settled at his ease? That he had a corrupt nature which loved sin, and therefore might sometimes gratify that; and had a divine and holy nature which loved holiness, and therefore might some times indulge that? That he was sitting at ease in his armchair, comfortably "established" (as it is called), and did not trouble himself about the workings of sin in his old man, but quietly attended to the workings of the Spirit in the new? I cannot think so; I do not believe that the words contain an expression of contentment.
They are rather this—a feeling in his soul that there was no alteration to be obtained in this present life with respect to the conflict he had to endure; that he never was to expect to rise beyond a warfare; that as long as he lived below there would be in him a body of sin and death—the law of sin working in his members and warring continually against the law of his mind. But it was not a settling down upon his lees; it was not a mere resting upon the doctrine of the old man and the new; it was not a throwing away of the weapons of spiritual warfare. Not so! But it was a coming to this solemn conclusion in his mind—"I have two warring principles within me." He did not know it clearly before. It was then opened up to him; light shone into his soul, and brought him to see that his old man never would be any better; and therefore that he with his flesh would serve the law of sin, though with his mind he would serve the law of God.
Now let us look at these two things. The "mind" here means the new nature, that holy principle which God the Spirit implants in a man's heart. With this we serve the law of God. This new man is holy, heavenly, pure, and spiritual, delighting in God, panting and seeking after communion with Jesus. It bears injuries, submits to unkind treatment, puts its mouth in the dust, and possesses a measure of conformity to Christ's image. Thus the Apostle says, "I myself—I, Paul—viewed as a Christian, as a believer in Jesus—I, with my mind, with my new nature, with that holy, heavenly principle which God has implanted in my bosom, serve the law of God. I acknowledge the Word of God to be my rule and guide. I desire to know His will, and to do it. I seek to obey Him in all things; I strive to please, to honor, and to glorify Him. His will is my will, His commands are my commands, and what He leads me into, that I gladly perform."
Now, this is just the spirit and bent of a gracious man's "mind" of his new nature. Praise, prayer, spiritual-mindedness, love to God's saints, desire to walk in godly fear; this is the being, the element of the new man. With this mind, or new man, a believer serves the law of God. All feelings of holy reverence and godly fear; all the actings of faith, hope and love; all contrition and humility; all self-loathing and abhorrence; all desires to know God, to please Him, and to enjoy Him; everything spiritual, everything gracious, dwells in the new man. And thus we at times feel (do we not?) heavenly things our element, spiritual things our chief joy, the blood of the Lamb our greatest delight, and the Word of God the rule of our obedience. Thus "with the mind we serve the law of God."
But as long as we live in the body we have another principle, quite distinct from it, which the Apostle here calls the "flesh"—our fallen corrupt nature, our depraved heart, which ever was and ever will be a sink of iniquity, a sewer, a charnel-house of corruption and incurable depravity. Now, "with our flesh"—with this corrupt nature—"we serve the law of sin;" not gladly, that is another matter. The Apostle does not say that he serves "sin," but that he serves "the law of sin." These are different things. To serve "sin," and to serve "the law of sin," are very different matters. The internal principle is one thing, external acts are another. The lustings of your heart unto evil, and putting into practice those lusts, are two very different things. Sin working in your heart, and sin acted in your body, are quite distinct.
The Apostle does not say he serves sin. If we are the servants of sin, we are the children of wrath. "Sin shall not have dominion over you; for you are not under the law, but under grace." But still we "serve the law of sin," though we do not serve sin itself. The "law of sin" is that internal principle of sin in the bosom (if I may use the expression), "the spirit of sin," that subtle principle that is perpetually at work, seeking to regain its ancient mastery. Every infidel thought, every blasphemous imagination, every vile idea, every lewd desire, every covetous wish, every rising of pride, every movement of inward hypocrisy, every going out of love to the world, every secret exaltation of self (and who does not painfully know these inward workings?), are a part of the "law of sin." This law works in the carnal mind, subtly insinuating itself into every crevice, and is a law to our flesh, constraining it, as a law constrains obedience to its authority, working in our carnal mind in the same intricate way as the blessed Spirit works in the new man of grace.
And this we shall serve to our dying day. But is servitude a pleasure? Does the slave hug his chain? The poor African torn from his native land, and transported across the Atlantic—is he pleased on the slave-ship? Is he not pining after light and liberty? So spiritually. Does the Apostle mean that it was his happiness, his pleasure, his delight, to serve the law of sin? Does he so mean to distinguish the two principles as to say, "I can be happy with God in a chapel today, and happy with the Devil in a ale-house tomorrow"? Does he mean to say, "I can live in an atmosphere of spirituality one moment, and plunge into a brothel the next"? No! There is no such spirit in it! When he says, "I serve the law of sin," he speaks of himself as one entangled contrary to his own wishes; torn, like a poor African, from hearth and home, taken captive by sin and Satan, and chained in the hold of the slave-ship, an unwilling captive, a groaning prisoner, who would gladly get free, and yet finds the subtle spirit of internal sin and corruption perpetually seeking to regain the mastery over him.
Be assured of this, if you can serve sin without sorrow, you have not the Spirit of Christ in you—you are still "in the gall of bitterness, and in the bond of iniquity." If the gratification of your secret lusts cost you no pain; if the workings of your base nature never force a tear from your eye, or a groan from your bosom, depend upon it—you are not where Paul was. Servitude is a galling fetter. The iron chain of slavery often enters into the soul, and we never can be happy until we are delivered from the galling yoke. So that the Apostle, in making this solemn resolution, "With the mind I myself serve the law of God; but with the flesh the law of sin," does not mean for a single moment to encourage licentiousness. He does not hold out that we may live in sin, and gratify our lusts, and yet be manifestly the children of God. Look at the sixth chapter of Romans, where the whole bent of this argument is against being under the power of sin.
But what he means is this—that as long as he is upon earth he will have a body of sin and death—as long as he is in the flesh he will know the painful workings of corruption—and he submits to it, looking forward to that happy day when the corrupt body shall drop into the dust, and the soul shall enter into unspeakable bliss, reserved for the family of God!
I would ask in all sincerity (and may God in mercy apply it to your consciences), what you and I know of this experience? Why is it in the Bible? Why has God left it upon record? Is it not that we may try ourselves by it, and thus be brought to the test? Let us look at the experience of the Apostle, and see if we know it. Look at these three points—may God enable you to see whether you know them experimentally.
1. What do you know of being a poor, wretched, guilty, miserable sinner? This is the first thing to be learned in Christ's school. You cannot overstep that. You may as well try to read without learning the alphabet, as think you can know Christ without knowing guilt and condemnation. Then what do you know of this step? "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" You say you do know it. Blessed are you if God the Spirit has wrought this experience only in your soul! It will lead on to better things. It will end in brighter things. We must, in Christ's school, begin with the lowest class, and then be led on, step by step, and line by line, to learn the lessons which the Spirit of God teaches all the ransomed family.
2. But can you get a step further—"I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord"? No sweet testimony? no precious deliverance? no gracious intimations? no marks of heavenly favor? no love to Jesus? Has His name never been precious to you? the savor of it never "like the ointment poured forth"? What! is the Son of God without loveliness to you? When you see Him, is there no beauty in Him that you should desire Him? What! no pantings after His sweet presence? no longings after His manifested favor? no cries to feel the power of His atoning blood? no secret pantings in your soul after the discovery of His mercy and grace?
Now, if you know something of this experience, you can say with the Apostle, in a measure—"I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord." There is a door of escape open. There is a way of refuge from misery, guilt and condemnation. There is a way—the Lord of life and glory, the Mediator between God and man, the Great High Priest over the house of God, He who is able to save unto the uttermost, the ever-living Intercessor, the Friend who sticks closer than a brother. What! no faith in Him? no desires after Him? Surely, surely, if God the Spirit is your teacher, there is this going on in the quiet depths of your conscience.
3. Then you will have to come to this resolution—"With the mind I myself serve the law of God; but with the flesh the law of sin." "I desire to know His will, and to do it, to submit to His righteous dealings with me, to walk in the light of His countenance, and live under the shinings of His favor. And yet, in all, with all, and in the midst of all, I find and feel a contrary nature—a vile heart of unbelief—proud, hypocritical, presumptuous, covetous—a lustful eye, perpetually captivating my affections, ensnaring my soul, and inflicting cruel wounds in my heart and conscience."
And yet you must bear the burden, endure the load, and look forward to the day of your deliverance. No, God in mercy overrules these painful exercises for the good of His people. Where would be your humility, where would be your self-loathing, where would be your contrition, brokenness, and godly fear? where would be your shame of face and abasement of soul before a holy God, if you did not carry within you these painful testimonies that you are the very chief of sinners, and less than the least of all saints? Why, you would be throwing stones at everyone from 'your own little hill of holiness'.
Therefore, let men say what they will, and let presumptuous professors shoot out arrows of bitter scorn against it, we have reason to thank God for the knowledge of our corruption; we have reason to bless His name that He has humbled us by showing it; and we have reason to thank Him that He has shed that light into our souls, and given that life in our conscience, whereby sin is, in a measure, ever brought to light, mourned over, hated, and repented of. Thus we shall walk softly before God all our days "in the bitterness of our soul," and thus be neither swallowed up by despair on the one hand, nor inflated with presumption on the other. To walk so is to walk safely.
We then come to this solemn resolution—"I with my mind serve the law of God—that is my delight. Yet with the flesh I have painfully to serve the law of sin—and that is my misery. To serve the law of God is my joy; to serve the law of sin is my sorrow. To serve the law of God in my soul is my heaven; to serve the law of sin in my members is a bitter relic of hell." Yet all is necessary to make the soul watchful and humble, and teach it the super-aboundings of grace over the aboundings of sin; to keep us little and low in our own esteem, and lay us prostrate at the foot of the cross, "being determined to know nothing, except Jesus Christ and Him crucified."
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