DELIVERED BY
C. H. SPURGEON,
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
"But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my
mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin, which is in my
members." Romans 7:23.
I QUESTION whether any man understands himself and I am quite certain
that no Christian does. "Great is the mystery of godliness" in more
senses than one! The Believer is a great riddle to those who observe
him–"he is discerned of no man." He is equally an enigma to himself.
The frequency of books like Venning's, "Orthodox Paradoxes," and good
Ralph Erskine's, "Believer's Riddle," is not at all amazing, for a
thousand riddles may be made about the Christian since he is a paradox
from beginning to end. As Plato used to say of each man that he was two
men, so may we with emphasis say of each Christian that he is two men
in one.
Oftentimes to himself the evil man within him appears to be uppermost
and yet, by the Grace of God, he never can be, for the ultimate victory
belongs to the new and spiritual life. We see in every Christian what
was seen in the Shulamite in the Song, "as it were the company of two
armies." This is not always known by the Believer when he commences the
new life. He starts knowing that he is a sinner and that Jesus is his
Savior, but as he proceeds, he finds that he is more a sinner than he
thought he was. Many surprises await him and some things which, if he
is not prepared for them, will stagger him as though some strange thing
had happened to him.
Perhaps my discourse on this subject may prevent a new convert from
being overwhelmed with unexpected storms and help him to solve the
question which will arise in his mind, "If I were a child of God, could
it be thus with me?" Our first head will be, THERE ARE IN ALL BELIEVERS
TWO PRINCIPLES. The Apostle speaks of the law of his mind and then of
another law in his members warring against the law of his mind. The
converted man is a new man in Christ Jesus, but the old nature remains
within him. The first life in a Christian, in order of time, is the old
Adam nature. It is there from the first. It is born of and with the
flesh and it remains in us after we are born of the Spirit, for the
second birth does not destroy in us the products of the first birth.
Regeneration brings into us a new and higher principle which is
ultimately to destroy the sinful nature, but the old principle still
remains and labors to retain its power. Some fancy that the carnal mind
is to be improved, gradually tamed and sanctified–but it is enmity
against God and is not reconciled to God–neither, indeed, can be. The
old nature is of the earth, earthy, and must be crucified with Christ
and buried with Him, for it is altogether too bad for mending! This old
nature lives in our members, that is to say, its nest is the body and
it works through the body.
There are certain appetites of ours which are perfectly allowable, no,
even necessary to existence, but they can be very easily pushed to
sinful extremes and then that which is lawful and right becomes a nest
for that which is unlawful and wrong. It is a commendable thing that a
man should seek to provide for his own household, yet how many crimes
and how much covetousness come into the world from an inordinate
indulgence of that desire? A man may eat and drink, yet it is through
those appetites that a thousand sins are engendered. A man, when he is
in his right condition, puts a bit into the mouth of his desires and
holds them in as with bit and bridle. His higher nature governs his
bodily appetites, but not without great effort, for ever since the fall
of Adam, the machine works irregularly and is not properly controlled
by that which should be the ruling force.
I have heard of some professors who dream that sin is utterly destroyed
in them and that they have no more evil tendencies and desires. I shall
not controvert their notion. If it is so, I congratulate them and
greatly wish it were so with me. I have, however, had some little
experience of perfect people and I have generally found them the most
disagreeable, touchy and sensitive persons in the world! And some of
them have turned out to be such detestable hypocrites that I am rather
afraid of a person who has no imperfections. As soon as I learn that a
Brother states that he has lived for months
without sin, I wonder whether his secret vice is lewdness, or theft, or
drink–and I feel sure that somewhere or other there is a leak in the
ship!
The sin which lurks in the flesh will grow weaker in proportion as the
holy principle, of which I have to speak, grows stronger. And it is at
no time to be tolerated or excused–we are to fight against it, conquer
it and ultimately it is to be destroyed in us, root and branch–yet
there it is and let not the young Christian be staggered when he finds
it there. When we are born again there is dropped into our soul the
living and incorruptible Seed of the Word of God which lives and abides
forever. It is akin to the Divine Nature and cannot sin because it is
born of God–it has no tendency to sin, but all its appetites are
heavenward and Christ-ward. It never stoops from its high position; it
is always aspiring towards Heaven. It is at deadly enmity with the old
nature which it will, in the end, destroy, but, as I have said before,
it has its work to do and it is a work which, assisted even by Divine
strength, will not be accomplished all at once. It is a warfare which,
when it seems ended, has often to be renewed, since, after long and
victorious campaigns, the routed enemy returns to the field.
Now, I would like each Christian to be assured that he has this second
principle in him. It may be weak; it may be struggling for an
existence; but it is there, my Brothers and Sisters! If you have
believed in Jesus, you have the life which hates sin and makes you
repent when you have fallen into it. That is the life which cries,
"Abba, Father," as often as it thinks of God. That is the life which
aspires after holiness and delights in the Law of God. This is the
new-born principle which will not permit you to be at peace if you
should wander into sin. It finds no rest but in the bosom of that God
from whom it came and in likeness to that God from whom it sprang.
These are the two principles which make up the dual man–the flesh and
the spirit–the law of the mind and the law of sin, the body of death
and the spirit of life.
We notice, secondly, that THE EXISTENCE OF THESE TWO PRINCIPLES IN A
CHRISTIAN NECESSITATES A CONFLICT, even as the text says, "Another law
in my members warring against the law of my mind." The lion will not
lie down with the lamb in us! Fire will not be on good terms with
water. Death will not parley with life, nor Christ with Belial. The
dual life provokes a daily duel. I am not sure that the conflict
between the new nature and the old is felt by all young Christians at
first. Frequently Christian life may be divided into three stages–the
first period is that of comfort in which the young Christian rejoices
in the Lord and his principal business is to sing and tell what God has
done for him. The more of this the better!
After that, very often comes the stage of conflict–instead of being
children at home we have grown into men and therefore we must go to
war. Under the old law, when a man was married, or had built a house,
he was excused from fighting for a season, but when that was over, he
must take his place in the ranks. And so is it with the child of
God–he may rest awhile but he is destined for the war. The period of
conflict is often succeeded, especially in old age, by a third stage
which we may call contemplation, in which the Believer sits down to
reflect upon the goodness of the Lord towards him and upon all the good
things which are in store for him.
This is the land Beulah which John Bunyan describes as lying on the
edge of the river and so near to the Celestial City that you can hear
the heavenly music across the stream and, when the wind blows that way,
you can smell the sweet perfumes from the gardens of the blessed! That
is a stage which we must not expect to reach just now. My young Friend,
inasmuch as you are at first weak and tender, the Lord may be pleased
to screen you from a great many temptations and from the uprisings of
your flesh. But the probabilities are that before long you will put
down your harp and take up your sword–and your joy of spirit will give
place to the agony of conflict.
Sin is in you, lurking in secret places, though it has not as yet
leaped forth upon you as a young lion on its prey. You, perhaps, have
thought, "I shall do better than those who have gone before me. I shall
shine as a brilliant saint." Let not him that puts on his harness boast
as though he takes it off. There are fights before you and I warn you
of them, so that when you remove from the state of content to the state
of conflict you may confess, "Before it came to pass I was warned of
this and, therefore, I am prepared for it."
The reason of the fight is this–the new nature comes into our heart,
to rule over it–but the carnal mind is not willing to surrender its
power. A new throne is set up in the heart and the old monarch,
dethroned, outlawed and made to lurk in holes and corners, says to
himself, "I will not have this. Why should it be? Here am I, who was
once this man's
king, snubbed and made to hide myself as though I were a stranger! I
will get the throne back again." Master Bunyan, in his, "Holy War,"
which is a very wonderful allegory, describes Diabolus, you know, as
having his city taken from him.
But, after the city had been taken, there lurked in the holes and
corners of that city certain subjects of Diabolus and these were always
plotting and planning how they could get the city back. They opened the
gates at night to let in their old king. They sowed discontent among
the inhabitants. This is the reason for the perpetual strife within our
souls. The old lusts that are under ban and curse and which we are
hunting to crucify, put their heads together and labor to regain
dominion! The flesh will wait till you are in a very quiet frame of
mind and feel very secure–and then it will come down upon you with its
evil fascinations!
At another time it may be you are in great trouble and you feel ready
to sink–and then comes the devil upon you like a roaring lion, hoping
to destroy your faith. He knows how to time the temptation and the
flesh knows how to rise in insurrection when we are off our guard and
when surrounding circumstances are all conducive to sin. We cannot be
too watchful, for the flesh will rebel all of a sudden. We may get it
down and think we have fettered it securely, but, ah, it finds its
hands, it breaks its bonds and lets fly an arrow at our heart! You
said, "I shall never be angry again," and while you were congratulating
yourself on the sweetness of your temper, you were, all of a sudden,
provoked from quite a new quarter and your wrath boiled over again.
"No," you said, "I never shall be impatient again," and yet within a
few moments you were as full of murmuring as ever you had been in your
life! Till the flesh lies in the grave, sin will not be dead! And let
me warn you that the flesh may be doing us more mischief when it seems
to be doing no mischief at all than at any other time! During war the
sappers and miners will work underneath a city and those inside say,
"The enemy is very quiet; we hear no roaring of cannon, we see no
capturing of Malakoiffs. Where can the enemy be?" They know their
business well enough and are laying their mines for unexpected strokes.
Hence an old Divine used to say that he was never so much afraid of any
devil as he was of no devil. That is to say, when Satan does not tempt,
it is often our worst temptation! To be let alone tends to breed a dry
rot in the soul. "He has not been emptied from vessel to vessel," said
the Prophet of old, "he is settled upon his lees"–this spoke he of one
who was under Divine displeasure. Stagnation is one of the worst things
that can happen to us and so it happens that we are never secure. Thus,
dear Friends, I have showed you that there is a conflict within. And
let me congratulate you if it is a conflict. The ungodly know no such
inward warfare! They sin and they love it–but where there is spiritual
conflict the Grace of God is present!
We do sin, but we hate sin! We fall into it, but we loathe it and fight
against it. And every true child of God can say honestly that there is
nothing in this world he dreads so much as to grieve his God. If you
were dead in sin you would have no trouble about it, but those inward
pangs, those deep emotions, those bitter sighs and cries, that
exclamation of, "Oh, wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from
the body of this death?" all indicate spiritual life! While I
sympathize with your sorrow I congratulate you that you feel it, for
this is one of the marks of a child of God! Forget not that in renewed
men there are two opposing forces and that these necessitate a
life-long war.
Thirdly, we must now note that this warfare SOMETIMES LEADS US INTO
CAPTIVTY. Observe, "I see another law in my members warring against the
law of my mind and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which
is in my members." "What does that mean?" asks one. It means that when
you sin it will be captivity to you if you are a child of God. The
sinner may find pleasure in sin, but you will not if you are God's
child. You will be like a slave in chains, locked up in a horrible
dungeon when you fall into sin.
But does the old nature make Christians captives? Yes, in this way.
First, many a Christian feels himself in captivity for the very fact
that the old nature has risen within him. Let me explain myself.
Suppose that the old nature suggests to you some sin–you hate the sin
and loathe it and you despise yourself for lying open to be tempted in
such a way. The very fact that such a thought has crossed your mind is
bondage to your pure spirit. You do not fall into the sin–you shake
off the serpent–but you feel its slime upon your soul.
Do you not know what it is to have a very violent tendency towards an
evil, the very thought of which is detestable to you? Your renewed mind
exclaims, "How can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?" But
yet the flesh says, "Do it, do it, do it!" and pictures the sweetness
and the pleasure of it. With your whole soul you set yourself against
the temptation. The cold sweat stands upon your brow at the very
thought of your falling into so foul a transgression and
you cry to God in prayer! But yet the captivity of your soul is great
while the trial lasts and even in the remembrance of it. You say to
yourself, "I am afraid I dallied with the temptation. The bait would
not have been so alluring to me if there had not been some consent of
my soul to it."
You also charge your heart with folly, saying, "Though I did not commit
that sin, yet there was a hankering after it in me." Though others
could not condemn you, but must even honor your self-denial, yet you
condemn yourself for any degree of inclination in the wrong direction
and you feel that the temptation has brought you, at once, into
captivity. What a difference there is between a spot on one thing and a
spot on another! A man makes a spot with ink on my coat and nobody
perceives it–but if he were to cast a drop upon this white
handkerchief, how soon everybody would see it!
The old nature is like a black coat, too dark to show a blot–but one
spot of temptation falling on the pure white linen of the new nature
troubles us exceedingly–we see it and we loathe it and we cry out to
God that we may get rid of it. The very passing of temptation across a
renewed soul brings it into captivity. I stood one day in Rome looking
at a very large and well executed photograph of a street and an ancient
temple. I had never seen so fine a photograph, but I noticed that right
across the middle of it was the trace of a mule and a cart. The artist
had done his best to prevent it, but there was the ghost of that cart
and mule all along the way, right across the picture. I do not say it
spoiled it, but it certainly did not improve it.
Even so, oftentimes, when our heart is most cleansed and bears best the
image of God, right across the fair picture comes the trace of a
temptation and we are grieved. An observer unskilled in art might not
notice the mark on the photograph, but a careful artist, with a high
ideal, is vexed to see his work thus marred. And so with moral
stains–that which the common man thinks a trifle is a great sorrow to
the pure-hearted child of God and he is brought into captivity by it.
Sometimes, too, a Christian's captivity consists in his losing his joy
through the uprising of the flesh. I speak what I am sure many of the
children of God here know. You are rejoicing in the Lord and triumphant
in His name and, by-and-by, some corruption struggles for the mastery.
"It shall not rise," you say. You put it down but it strives and you
strive, too–and in the struggle, the joy of the Lord, which was your
strength, seems to be taken away from you. A sense of the dreadful fact
that the leprosy is in the house of clay in which you live terrifies
you and you are so anxious to get the leprosy out of the walls that you
would sooner see the old house decay into dust than live where evil so
readily approaches you! This sight of inbred sin may cast a chill upon
your joy. You want to sing the praises of God, but the temptation comes
just at that very minute and you have to battle with it and the song
gives place to a battle cry.
It is time for prayer and you are in the attitude of devotion, but
somehow you cannot control your thoughts–they will roam here and there
under the force of the flesh. My thoughts frequently seem like a lot of
colts let loose, tearing over the fields of my soul without restraint.
In holy contemplation you try to concentrate your thoughts upon the
subject in hand and you cannot–very likely somebody knocks at the door
at the same time, or a child begins to cry, or a man begins to grind an
organ under your window–how can you meditate? All things seem to be
against you. Little outside matters which are trifling to others will
often prove terrible disturbers of your spirit and what others smile
at, you are made to weep over, for the flesh will lay hold of the most
paltry concerns to prevent your coming into communion with the Lord
your God. Thus by taking away our joy, and marring our fellowship, the
old corruption within us leads us into captivity.
But, my Brothers and Sisters, this is not all, for we do not always
escape from actual sin. We do, in moments of forgetfulness, that which
we would willingly undo and say that which we would willingly unsay.
The spirit was willing to be perfect, but the flesh was weak–and then
the consequence is, to a child of God–that he feels himself a captive.
He has yielded to treacherous blandishments and now, like Samson, his
locks are shorn. He goes out to shake himself as he did before, but the
Philistines are upon him! His God is not with him and it will be a
happy thing for him if he does not lose his eyes and come to grind at
the mill like a slave. Oh, what need we have to be on our guard and to
look to the Strong for strength, for this old nature within us will
bring us into captivity if it can and will hold us there!
But I must close with this reflection, that THIS WARFARE AND THIS
OCCASIONAL TRIUMPH OF THE FLESH MAKE US LOOK TO CHRIST FOR VICTORY. The
Apostle asks, "Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" And
his reply is, "I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord." Brothers and
Sisters, I am persuaded that there is no place so safe and none so
proper and fitting for any of us as a sinner's place at the foot of the
Cross. I have read a great deal about perfection in the flesh and I
have tried to get it. I have also tried to pray after the fashion which
I suppose a perfect man would pray–but the theory will not hold water
as far as I am concerned.
When I went up to the temple in that way and tried to pray, I found a
Pharisee at my elbow. A good way off I saw a poor sinner, striking his
breast and saying, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner," and I perceived
that he went away justified, while I stood there and envied him. I
could not stand it! I went back to my old place at the sinner's side
and smote my breast, uttering the old cry, "God, be merciful to me, a
sinner." Then I, too, felt at ease and I went home justified and
rejoicing in the Lord! Beloved, whenever there is a question between me
and the devil as to whether I am a child of God, I have given up
seeking evidence in my own favor, or turning to my experience to prove
that I am in a state of Grace, for that cunning old lawyer knows more
about my infirmities than I do and can very soon bring two to one
against me!
My constant way is to tell the accuser," Well, if I am not a saint, I
am a sinner, and Jesus came into the world to save sinners, therefore I
will go to Christ and look to Him again." The devil cannot answer that!
You that are oldest in the Divine Life–and I speak to some who have
known the Lord these 50 years–I am sure that you find times in which
no mark, evidence, or experience is worth a penny to you by way of
comfort and you are led to adopt the simple expedient which I have
recommended to all the tempted ones. It will be wise to always live
upon Jesus! Begin, again, at the foot of the Cross where you began at
first, with the old cry–
"Nothing in my hand I bring! Simply to Your Cross I cling."
That is the way to conquer sin, as well as to overcome despair for,
when faith in Jesus comes back to your soul, you will be strong to
fight with your corruptions and you will win the victory, which you
will never gain if you allow your struggles with your sins to drive you
away from your Savior. Let us resort, then, to Christ who gives us the
victory and let us, the longer we live, praise Christ the more!
You young Christians, you do not yet know what a dear Savior you have
found! You know you have found Him, but He is a dearer Christ than you
think He is! You were naked and He has clothed you–yes, He has put the
armor upon you which will ward off the darts of the arch-enemy. You
were hungry and He has fed you–yes, but He has fed you with immortal
bread– He is nourishing a Divine Life within your soul! He has given
you peace and you are grateful for it–yes, but He has given you a
peace which passes all understanding–that shall keep your heart and
mind! You say it is sweet to find Him with you. So it is, but oh, how
sweet it will be to have Him with you when you pass through the fires
and are not burned; when you go through the floods and are not drowned;
when you enter upon the final struggle and are not afraid!
Oh, Beloved, we may find out and shall find out, more of our own needs,
but we shall also discover more of Christ's all-sufficient fullness!
The storm will become more terrible, but the Pilot's power to rule that
storm will only be the more displayed! The ship may rock to and fro
till all her timbers are strained and her keel may threaten to snap in
two, but–
"He will preserve it, He does steer Even when the boat seems most to
reel, Storms are the triumph of His art." He will bring His people
safely through the howling wilderness and the land of great drought. Be
not afraid, you that have begun the Divine pilgrimage, for His fiery
cloudy pillar will attend you! Dragons there are, but by the sword of
the Spirit you shall wound the dragon as of old he was wounded at the
Red Sea. There will be death to fight with, but Christ has died and you
shall be victorious over the grave. Expect conflict! Be not astonished
when it comes, but as confidently expect victory and shout in prospect
of it!
As surely as the Lord has called you to this celestial warfare, He will
bear you through it! You shall sing on the other side of Jordan unto
Him that loved you and washed you from your sins in His blood! In the
haven of the blessed, in the land of the hereafter, in the home of the
holy where the weary are at rest, you shall sing the high praises of
God and the Lamb! I would to God this sermon had a relation to all
those who hear or read it, but I fear it has not. I can only hope that
those who have no conflict within may begin to feel one. May God grant
that you may not rest quiet in sin, for to be at peace with sin is to
be sleeping yourself into Hell!
May God awaken you, that you may flee to Christ for mercy at this very
hour and there shall be joy in His Presence. Amen.
PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON–Romans 7. HYMNS FROM "OUR: OWN
HYMN BOOK" -435, 644, 769.
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The Meat and Drink of the New Nature