Romans 3:23: What Does It Mean, “I Am a Sinner”?

INTRODUCTION

When I was young, the most common sermon topic of our preachers was “the way of salvation.”

Usually, the preacher would begin with informing us that we were all sinners.

The message would include Romans 3:23: “All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.”

Then, sometimes, they would go to the Old Testament and quote this great verse from Jeremiah 17:9: “The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked; who can know it?”

We memorized both of these verses in Sunday school. They embody a necessary truth about our human predicament.

I. Our sinfulness isn’t a very popular subject. We are willing to talk forever about the sins of other people, but most of us don’t feel especially wicked.

A. For a several years, I worked as librarian at the state prison at Mt. Pleasant.

Our inmates had been convicted of serious crimes—terrible crimes. But most of our inmates didn’t seem to feel especially guilty.

I had many conversations with these men. Some of them became friends. Generally, our prisoners considered themselves pretty good people. They liked to talk religion. They would admit that they had “made mistakes.” They would say things like, “Everyone does stuff; I just got caught.”

Those inmates were typical of people everywhere who have not yet met God in a life-changing way.

B. Most of us don’t realize that we are sinners until we have experienced God’s grace. We may cheerfully sing, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.” But usually only depressed people feel like “wretches.”

Here is something I have learned: We are not sinners because we sin. Rather, we sin because we are sinners. There’s something deep within us that is amiss. The sins that erupt from time to time in our actions or in our talk come from that corrupt nature within—that we mostly keep hidden, even from ourselves.

How would you feel if a friend was standing beside you, reading your mind? noting your sense of superiority? your fault-finding? your pleasure in the misfortunes of people you don’t like? your preoccupation with your own pleasures and unconcern for the sorrows of others?

Our problem with sin is not so much the things we do or say, but the wrong within that we manage to keep hidden—mostly, even from ourselves!

A pastor had a clock that always ran slow. He used it to teach a lesson. He put a little sign below his clock: “Don’t blame my hands; my trouble is much deeper.”

When I was in Korea during the Korean war, most of my time there I was a low-ranking soldier, and I dug a lot of holes. Everywhere we went we dug several latrines—one for the enlisted men, another for the officers, and another for the major and the colonel.

One day I was digging, not a latrine, but a shower point. I was digging a hole in which to put a pole that would hold up one of its walls. As was I hacking away at the hard earth, I hit something hard. I thought it was a rock and I pounded it harder and harder with my shovel, trying to dislodge it.

But suddenly, as it came into view, I realized that it wasn’t a rock; it was an unexploded mortar round! It frightened me. It could have exploded and blown me to smithereens.

I stopped digging and began to cover it up again. I changed my plan and dug the hole another place. I didn’t want to have anything to do with that unexploded mortar shell.

This is a parable: If the mortar shell could have spoken, it might have said, “Why do you shun me. I’ve never done any harm!”

And I would say, “It’s not what you’ve done. It’s what you’ve got inside of you!”

Our problem is not as much what we’ve done but what we’ve got inside us.

B. St. Paul, was, before his conversion, a very religious man. He was zealous for God. And he was satisfied with himself. He had a clear conscience.

But after St. Paul met Jesus, he had this to say about himself: “I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. …For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? (Romans 7:18 and 22).

C. Remember Jesus’s teaching about judgment in Matthew 25. Jesus tells how, as judge, at the end of time, people of all the nations will come before him, and he will divide them as a shepherd divides his sheep and goats at the end of the day—the sheep at his right and the goats at his left. The sheep, on the right, represent the righteous.

It’s the people to his left—represented by the goats—that I want to talk about.

Jesus will say to them:

“I was hungry and you gave me no food. I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink. I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, and sick and in prison and you did not visit me.”

Then they will answer, “When did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison?”

Then he will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me.”

And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life (Matthew 25:42-46).

Notice, that Jesus doesn’t accuse these people of any particular sins. Their failure was simply that they failed to extend practical love to those in need.

Sin, for most of us, is not the evil things we have done but the good things we failed to do.

There is a famous old prayer that goes like this—

Almighty and most merciful Father,

we have erred and strayed from your ways like lost sheep.

We have offended against thy holy laws.

We have left undone those things we ought to have done,

and we have done those things we ought not to have done,

and there is no health in us.

II. The truth is, it is only when we have experienced the grace of God that we can understand the depth of our sinfulness.

A. The Cross of Christ shows us the seriousness of sin.

If God could just wave his hand and say, “That’s all right—you’re forgiven—try to do better,” there wouldn’t have been any need for Jesus to have died that terrible death on the Cross.

The detailed stories in the gospels about the horror of the crucifixion impress upon us how much it cost God to grant us forgiveness.

St. Paul expresses the deepest meaning of the Cross of Christ this way: “He who knew no sin, God made to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in him” (2 Corinthians 5:21).

B. Our sense of our sinfulness comes from an experience of God’s grace—God’s generous love. Our sense of sinfulness comes from a yearning for God and his goodness.

Grace comes before we recognize our sin.

Grace comes before we confess our sin.

Grace comes before we change our ways—to determine to live to for God rather than for ourselves.

Maybe the truth is that it is only after we have come to experience God’s costly love that we can face up to our failings and come to God for healing.

C. And the grace of God is something more than merely forgiveness.

We may think of forgiveness as being let off from the consequences of our misdeeds. People can feel forgiven, and yet be unchanged.

But, with God, forgiveness includes being made right with God. God begins a new work in us that he will continue our whole life long. And  when the process is complete, we will—as Jesus expressed it—“ enter into the joy of the Lord.”

D. The experience of God’s grace is the greatest incentive to look deeply into myself, to humble myself, to own up to our sinfulness, and to seek God’s healing for our life.

At the end of each day, before I go to sleep, I confess my sins. The trouble is, most nights I can’t think of much specific to confess.

I know I’ve fallen short in many ways. I don’t know the details, but I own my need and ask God for forgiveness and healing.

Sometimes, a part of my prayer is the prayer of the tax collector Jesus told about who prayed in the Temple. The guilty man simply cried out, from the depths of his heart: “God be merciful to me, a sinner!”

That was his prayer, and Jesus approved of that prayer. Jesus said, “That man went home made right with God!”

CONCLUSION

Here is a prayer I use to search my heart. It is from a hymn by Charles Wesley, written 275 years ago, but it speaks from my heart—

Show me, as my soul can bear,

the depth of inbred sin;

all my unbelief declare,

the pride that lurks within.

Take me, whom thyself hast bought,

bring into captivity

every high aspiring thought

that would not stoop to thee.

I conclude with some words from the great prayer of confession in Psalm 51. If you open your Bible to the middle, you will quickly find it. I offer it as a prayer from all of us:

Have mercy on me, O God,

according to your steadfast love;

According to your abundant mercy

blot out my transgressions.

Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,

and cleanse me from my sin. …

Create in me a clean heart, O God,

and put a new and right spirit within me.

Cast me not away from your presence,

and take not your Holy Spirit from me.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation,

and sustain in me a willing spirit.

(Psalm 51:1-2 & 10-11)

Mark 4:35-41: The Importance of Fear in Our Lives

INTRODUCTION

We read this story in Mark 4:35-41:

On that day, when evening had come, Jesus said to his disciples, “Let us go across to the other side of the lake.” And leaving the crowd, they took him with them…

And a great storm of wind arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion. And they woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care if we perish?”

And he awoke and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! be still!”

And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.

He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?”

And they were filled with awe, and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and sea obey him?”

It must have been quite a storm. We know that at least four of the disciples were fishermen and would have been experienced with storms at sea. But even they were afraid in this one.

But I find their words curious. They wake Jesus with the words, “Don’t you care if we perish?”

We know from the rest of the story that they didn’t expect Jesus to quiet the storm. So their words, “Don’t you care…,” must mean, “Why don’t you wake up to be afraid with us?”

But even more puzzling are Jesus’s words, “Why are you afraid?” Was Jesus really surprised that they were afraid? I would have been afraid too, even with Jesus in the boat.

I chose this story because I wanted to talk about the importance of fear in our lives. There is good fear and there is bad fear, and we see both kinds of fear in this story.

I. The first “fear” is bad fear.

A. Jesus says, “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?”

I don’t think Jesus was scolding his disciples. It was a gentle rebuke. He was teaching them—and us—an important lesson about trust. With Jesus in our lives we don’t need to fear as other people fear.

B. Here is an important verse from 1 Peter (3:14): “Do not fear what they fear, and do not be intimidated, but in your hearts, sanctify Christ as Lord.”

St. Peter is contrasting the fears of a believer in Christ with the fears of those who don’t know Jesus as their Lord.

Unbelievers and believers have different fears. Thoughtful people without Christ live in dread of sickness, pain, poverty, loneliness, old age, and—especially—death.

Even with Jesus as our Savior, those things will still disturb us, but they won’t be the things we fear most. What we fear most is drifting away from God.

We know that even death is, for us, the entrance into life eternal.

When Peter says, “Sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts,” he uses the word “sanctify” for the idea of the holy fear that puts all other fears into perspective. Proper fear of Jesus Christ should fill my heart with such awe that the lesser fears are driven out.

II. That brings us to the second kind of fear we find in our story of the storm on the lake. We read, “And they were filled with awe, and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and sea obey him?’”

A. When the disciples experienced God’s power, “they were filled with awe.” Another version says, “They were terrified!” The word translated “awe” or “terrified” is simply the common Greek word for fear, which is phobos. Our word “phobia” comes from this Greek word. You’ve heard of “claustrophobia,” which is the fear of close spaces.

This word for fear in Greek has a wider meaning than just being scared. We see from this story that there is a bad kind of fear and there is a good kind of fear.

Jesus thought that they should have had enough trust with him in the boat with them that they wouldn’t have been so frightened—that’s the bad kind of fear.

The good kind of “fear” is the “awe” they felt after seeing the manifestation of God’s power as Jesus quieted the storm—the overwhelming revelation that the Great God was with them in the boat.

What happened this day was a step forward in their understanding of who Jesus is and in their confidence in him as “Immanuel”—God with us.

This is a lesson we all need to learn.

God is love, but God is Great. God’s love isn’t sentimental; it isn’t mushy. It includes a healthy kind of fear—that includes awe, reverence, worship, confidence, thankfulness, and the excitement of having Jesus in our lives.

B. Knowing the greatness of God in their Lord Jesus was leading them to an assurance of God’s power, holiness, and love.

It would make them in the end fearless witnesses—faithful even unto death.

It is good to be overwhelmed by God’s power and holiness.

My desire to know the greatness of God should be greater than my desire to feel comfortable with him. I wish I had more of a sense of the awesomeness of God.

C. In her memoir, The Water Will Hold You, Lindsay Crittenden tells of her journey from unbelief to faith and God. She writes—

“As with most of us, conversion didn’t mean an end to my problems. One day at a retreat I was sitting alone on the top of a hillside. The breeze was blowing in the grass and I was feeling the burden of my life when a voice said, ‘I love you.’

“No one was around and the voice had been clear and precise. At the sound of that voice, every tension in my body released and I felt as though I might slide into the warm earth. Then the sensation vanished and I was terrified.

“I told my pastor about the voice and how it filled me with bliss, but only for a second. I said, ‘It scared me. It felt like God’s voice. It had to be. But how can a God of love fill me with fear? How can a statement of love make me so scared?’”

“My pastor replied, ‘Oh, my dear girl. How can it not?’”

If we are close enough to God, his very presence with us will fill us with holy fear.

CONCLUSION

The best description of holy fear I have comes from the children’s book, The Wind in the Willows.

     

The Wind in the Willows is the story of the adventures of five animals who are best friends—Rat, Mole, Otter, Badger, and Toad. It is a favorite story of both children and adults because the five little animals are so much like us that we can see ourselves in them.

In one of the adventures in the story Ratty and Mole are facing a crisis. Their friend Otter’s child, little Portly, has gone missing. He’s been missing for several days and Ratty and Mole are terribly worried for their friend. So Ratty and Mole set out to look for the little otter.

It is nighttime, and they are rowing their boat down the river in the eerie stillness, when Ratty hears soft the piping of a flute. He whispers, “Here in this holy place. Here, if any place, surely we shall find him.”

Then suddenly, the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe that turned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to the ground.

It was no panic terror—indeed he felt wonderfully at peace and happy—but it was an awe that smote and held him and, without seeing, he knew it could only mean that some august Presence was very, very near. With difficulty, he turned to look for his friend, and saw Ratty at his side, cowed, stricken, and trembling violently. And still there was utter silence in the populous, bird-haunted branches around them; and still the light grew and grew.”

Trembling, they looked up and saw the great god Pan playing his pipes. (Pan, you may remember has a man’s body, but a goat’s legs and hooves.) Pan’s kindly eyes are looking down on them. Pan set aside his pipes, and they saw, nesting between Pan’s hooves, sleeping soundly in peace and contentment, the little otter, Portly.

“Rat!” Mole said, “Are you afraid?”

“’Afraid? Afraid of him? O, never, never! And yet—and yet—O Mole, I am afraid!”

“And then the two animals crouching to the earth bowed their heads and did worship.”

A hymn writer captures this feeling of fear and love in this hymn by the Catholic poet, F. W. Faber:

How wonderful, how beautiful,

The sight of Thee must be;

Thy endless wisdom, boundless power.

And awful purity!

O how I fear Thee, living God,

With deepest, tenderest fears,

And worship Thee with trembling hope

and penitential tears!

But I may love Thee, too, O Lord,

Almighty as Thou art;

For Thou hast stooped to ask of me

The love of my poor heart.