For this is the punishment requited to the disobedient in himself, that he in turn should not be obeyed even by himself.
-St. Augustine
I have been thinking about Christian morality, what it is and what it should be (ironic twist, that). It is probably safe to say that from the earliest times godliness has been characterized by a portrayal of how we ought to live our lives, or at least by the general perception of such a portrayal. It is certain that the preponderance of evidence shows the Church’s historical abuse of her position of influence to be roughly centered around the smug progression of “I know what God is thinking; he’s angry with you; you need to do what I say so that he will be happy with you, as he is with me.” But though God’s Law has so often been used in this way to oppress the fearful, as Biblical Christians we must believe as Jesus taught us that it will not pass away until all is accomplished, and learn how to use it as a plowshare instead of a sword, as a tool to work the ground of our hearts instead of a means of reprisal that is forbidden to all except its Author.
The first problem with morality is its application. Rebecca asked a great question in our home group the other evening. She said, “How do we know which laws to obey?” This reflects the uncertainty which is a fundamental problem in each one of our hearts, if we are honest with ourselves. We might have an idea how to begin obeying God if we knew just that – where to begin. From that fateful moment in the Garden when our ancestors plunged their race into the depths of darkness by taking the seat of judgment for themselves, to the time when I can first recall having wounded the conscience that accuses or even excuses me, there has not been a moment when I was not in a fallen state. If there were one action I took in all my life to which I could point with assurance that it was done in complete purity, I could isolate that success and build on it. I could try to replicate the way I felt and my method for making the decision, and eventually construct another such victory. Bit by bit I could eliminate the things I do that are wrong and elevate the things I do that are right, and so achieve in my flesh ultimate righteousness. Or so I suppose.
But added to the problem of a homogeneous permeation of wrongdoing into our souls are the phase shifts that indicate a world at war with its Maker. There is nothing static about a battle, and the one we are embroiled in is no exception. Lines are drawn up and forces arrayed, soldiers clash, fortresses are overrun, and borders are extended. A skirmish that began over which brother had the right sacrifice moved into the story of a worldwide deluge, and again into a man journeying to inherit a land already possessed by his enemies, and again into a nation led by a king after God’s own heart, and on into tongues of fire that ushered in the dawn of a new epoch. With each change is unveiled a new aspect of the person and work of Jesus Christ, and all the revelations that went before it are rolled up and incorporated into its ever-sharpening depiction of what the redemption of the world will be. But also with each change, for all its new interpretation of what was previously mystery, seems to come a new level of doubt about what it means to be a believer. We have access to more knowledge about the Kingdom of God as American Christians than perhaps any generation in any part of the world that came before us, and yet the frenetic unrest of our continual attempts at justification belie all the benefits with which we have been so richly endowed. The earth hasn’t opened up and swallowed any of my friends or their families because of rebellion lately, and I have never seen a priest follow a guy and his pagan girlfriend into their tent with a spear, and nobody I know has ever been sent into exile because of their idolatry. How are we to know that we are doing what we should be? And even better, in the light of our historical tendencies as angry wielders of ethic as weapon, how do we know that’s even the point?
When Adam sinned against God, he brought a curse on his head. The event should have been a surprise to no one. God said that if Adam ate the fruit he would surely die, and so it was. But there is a more sobering condemnation than that. If we who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift and shared in the Holy Spirit, who have known the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the age to come; if we then fall away, crucifying once again the Son of God and holding him up to contempt, there is nothing left for us but to be burned like worthless pasture-land. And the power of that second death is that we will surely not die. The image of God does not pass away, and it was because of this unthinkable reality that Jesus spent so much of his time pleading with his hearers to have a care for their souls. God’s greatest mercy on his physical creation was to forbid to Adam and Eve the Tree of Life, so that their immortality would not be inflicted on the world forever in sentient misery. With them we must choose the agony of Calvary or the misery of Gehenna, and between the two there is a great gulf fixed.
Our theology tells us that God has called us to eternal life, and so we often look askance at Hebrews 6, because it brings up uncomfortable thoughts that are (conveniently) not applicable to us. But our theology also tells us that the Gospel is for every day of our lives. If that is true, then with every thought we permit and every action we take we are choosing between life and death. As God reserves the right to declare who the people of his Covenant are, so he reserves the right to tell us the truth about whether we are bringing down blessing or curse on our heads with the way we keep that Covenant. And let us not suppose that it is not necessary to make this choice again today, and tomorrow, and the day after that. The man who looked across that gulf at Lazarus in the bosom of Abraham was once one of the people of God, part of the Church Visible, in the sight of all his friends eminently worthy of selection for eternal life.
At this point we often encounter confusion because of the Law. We know that as Christians we are not under Law, but under Grace. But having accepted that we mistakenly think that it serves no purpose. The function of the Law is to tell us what it looks like to live in the presence of God, and to serve as a mirror for our souls. When I look into the perfect law of liberty and see that I am not doing what a righteous man does, then if I am following Jesus, I will feel sad and afraid and disappointed and yet strangely hopeful; and I will lay down the book and call out to my Heavenly Father for salvation. And he will surely rescue me, and by God I want to commit those sins no more.
For in our hearts we do know what it means to be a believer. And for those of us who use our modern culture as the excuse for our foolishness, David offers us an unmistakable description in Psalm 19. The believer wants to live, not die. She knows that to live means to flourish in the presence of God, and so knows that her sin must be dealt with. She trusts God’s Law to be perfect and to revive her soul, and the way she shows this trust is to plead with God to keep her from willful sins.
Most importantly, the Christian knows the heart of God. She believes God wants her to enjoy his gift of alcohol, but when God very clearly says “Do not get drunk with wine”, she sets that boundary as the desire of her heart also. She understands that God wants her to love and enjoy her brothers in Christ, but when Jesus very clearly says “Do not defile the marriage bed”, she bathes his feet with her tears and goes out to sin no more. She accepts the gift of community from God’s hand as something that is to be shared and discussed together for the good of all, but when the Spirit very clearly reminds her “Do not speak evil against one another”, the believer sets a guard on her mouth so that she will say only what builds others up. She knows that all these things are for her good and the good of those she loves, but first and foremost her acceptance of them is as the unambiguous Word of God.
There are two observations that can be made about the life of Jesus that most truly define his purpose: first that he existed to embody and enact all the will of the Father, and second that he gave himself as a living sacrifice for those he loved. If we would follow him we must lay hold of that purity and selflessness in these two dimensions as if our lives depended on it, for in doing so we tell the truth with our bodies of the goodness and mercy of our God. As the spirits of prophets are subject to the prophets, so we have been given the power to have our whole spirit and soul and body kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. Brothers and sisters at Holy Cross, come with me and lay hold of that good testimony, for our good and for God’s glory.
JV
Artwork: Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, Wenzel Peter
Author: Jeremy Vogan
My name is Jeremy Vogan. I live in Staunton, VA with my wife and four kids. I love to write, and seek to honestly explore the intellectual and emotional implications of following Jesus as a deeply broken person in a twisted, cruel world that is full of veiled beauty and meaning. Writing is part of how I faithfully look for Jesus Christ to someday make all things new. I'd enjoy hearing your feedback! JV