by John Piper –
Listen
This is the word of God to us this morning. Let us obey it together and not resist its discomfort. This is the word of God: “Remember that at one time you Gentiles . . . were without Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel, strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world” (Ephesians 2:11, 12). It is a command, not a suggestion. “Remember that you were hopeless!” It is not something that Paul found people doing, and then said, “Stop doing that. It is bad for you.” It is part of the Christian walk. It is important. It is not to be leapfrogged over so that we only begin reading at verse 13: “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near.” That kind of leapfrogging has landed the church plop in the kettle of lukewarm Christianity, wondering what’s gone wrong.
The Path to Lukewarm Christianity
Why do we pray, but with so little fervor and affection? Why do so many sing, but scarcely from the heart and with such blank expressions? Why are so few hearts breaking for the lost people around them? Why do not more of us say spontaneously and repeatedly with Dr. Bill Widen, “The greatest thing in the world is to be saved”? Why isn’t the experience of salvation like the first morning of vacation, with the sun rising over the lake, and the air crisp and clear, and the fish biting, and the bacon sizzling, and all the family healthy and happy, instead of being like a grey drizzly day with a hole in the tent and everyone grumbling? Why is lukewarm love for Jesus so common and white-hot devotion so rare? One of the reasons is this: You can’t bring the burner of commitment and affection up to white-hot if you short-circuit God’s heating element and jump the current from Ephesians 2:10 to 2:13. Part of God’s heating element to intensity our affection and deepen our devotion is the command, “Remember! Remember! Remember that we were hopeless!” I can think of no better Sunday to drive home this word of God to Bethlehem Baptist Church than the last Sunday of the year.
The doctrine for our consideration, then, is this: It is of great spiritual benefit to remember the hopeless condition in which we were and would yet be without salvation by grace alone through Jesus Christ. To make the doctrine plain and useful, the questions we should answer are 1) What should we remember? 2) How should we remember? 3) What are the objections to such remembering? 4) Why is such remembering so beneficial?
What Should We Remember?
First, then, what does the text teach us to remember. “Remember that (before Christ brought you near through his death on the cross) you were separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel, strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.” The first thing to notice here is that salvation is of the Jews (John 4:22). For a non-Jew, a Gentile like me, to have any hope at all, I must cease to be alienated from the commonwealth of Israel. I must become a fellow citizen of Israel (2:19) and a fellow-heir of their promises (3:6). There is no salvation outside the true Israel. When redemptive history arrived at the incarnation it did not split into two histories: one for the redemption of Israel, and one for the redemption of the Gentiles. Instead it opened and expanded so as to embrace all believing Gentiles into the people of God, the true Israel. According to Ephesians 3:4–6 Paul teaches a mystery which had not been fully revealed in the Old Testament but is now heralded as the good news to us Gentiles, namely, that (v. 6) “the Gentiles are fellow heirs, members of the same body, and partakers of the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.” As Paul says elsewhere, “If you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise” (Galatians 3:29). By faith Gentiles join the “true circumcision” (Philippians 3:3), and become “sons of Abraham” (Galatians 3:9) and “real Jews” (Romans 2:29). Even though we are wild olive shoots, yet by faith we are grafted in to share the rich root of the cultivated olive tree (Romans 11:17). Therefore, we must never boast as though somehow a Gentile program has replaced a Jewish one. We are simply and graciously and freely granted to have a part in the promise to Abraham. There is only one people of God, the vessels of mercy, the true Israel, whom “God has called not only from the Jews but also from the Gentiles” (Romans 9:24; Ephesians 2:15).
I count it the most precious of all things as a Gentile to be saved by being joined to Christ, the seed of Abraham, and becoming an heir of all the glory promised to God’s people Israel. I am excited that the true Israel’s destiny is now my destiny and all the promises made to her are my promises. I feed on my heritage in the Old Testament day by day. I stand on tiptoe in expectation looking for my Messiah and the establishment of the glorious kingdom of the Son of David. But if I am to love him as I ought, if he is to find faith on the earth when he comes, then I must do what the text says and remember, remember, remember that once I was not joined to Christ but cut off from him in ignorance and unbelief. Once I was not a fellow citizen in Israel, but alienated from the commonwealth. Once I was not a fellow heir of the promises, but a stranger to all God’s covenants. And therefore I was entirely without God and without hope. In other words, Paul says we ought to remember from what we have been saved. We ought to call to mind our condition before and without Christ.
If you, like me, trusted Christ as your savior when you were very young, you might be tempted to say here, “I have nothing to remember. I have only known faith. I have no great conversion story.” I don’t believe Paul wrote this text just for people with dramatic conversion stories. He is writing it for all Gentiles to urge us to reflect on what our plight would be apart from the mystery of Christ which makes us fellow heirs of grace. And the plight is simply and awfully being without God and, therefore, without hope.
What does it mean to be “without God”? This phrase comes after the statement that we were strangers to the covenants of promise. Therefore, the opposite of being “without God” is probably found in some of the covenants in the Old Testament. For example, God says to Abraham in Genesis 17:7,
I will establish my covenant between me and you and your descendants after you . . . to be God to you and to your descendants after you.
And in Jeremiah 31:33 the Lord says,
This is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it upon their hearts; and I will be their God, and they will be my people.
You may remember from our study of the covenant of Abraham that when God says he will be their God, he means he will be for them and not against them. It means they will be the beneficiaries of all that an infinitely powerful and loving God can give. This included justification (that is, the forgiveness of sins), the working of all affairs for their good, and the gift of a glorious eternal life.
Therefore, when Paul says to us, “Remember that you were without God,” he didn’t just mean, “Remember that you once lacked some knowledge about God.” He meant, “Remember that God was once not your God, and that he would not be yet, apart from the gospel.” And if he was not our God, then he was not for us but against us; he was not our justifier but our condemner; not eternal life but eternal damnation lay before us. And it’s just this that Paul wants us to remember. Remember that apart from Christ, almighty God would be against us; apart from Christ, we would be storing up wrath for ourselves on the day of the righteous judgment of God (Romans 2:4, 5; Ephesians 2:3); apart from the free and unmerited mercy of Christ, we would go away into “eternal punishment” (Matthew 25:46). Or, as Paul says in a single phrase, we would be utterly “without hope.”
Therefore, in answer to our first question, what we are to remember, we are to remember the entirety of our hopeless condition apart from the mercy of God in Jesus’ death and resurrection.
How Should We Remember?
The second question was, How should we remember? And I mean “how” in two senses: what is the nature of this remembering, and what are the methods to help us remember? Surely Paul does not mean remember merely in the sense of “have in mind,” be cognizant of. Surely he means, let it grip you. Let the memory seize you and move you. Feel the memory. Feel the plight you have been saved from. An intellectual recollection of facts will be of no spiritual benefit if it does not move the heart. Almost all Christians can list what they have been saved from if you ask them. But they don’t feel it. It does not move them. It’s not real to them. It’s like the lady in the circus who spins on the wheel while the knife thrower pretends to throw knives around her. If you ask her at the end, “Don’t you feel glad that’s over? Aren’t you happy you’re still alive?” she says, “It’s just a trick. The knives pop out of the wheel. What’s to get excited about? It’s just a fake threat.” And so it seems to be with many Christians: if they remember their plight without Christ at all, they remember it like a fake threat. They have never begun to imagine the horror of the reality from which they have been saved. But when Paul says, “Remember that you were hopeless,” he does not mean, “Treat your plight without Christ like a fake threat.” He means, “Know it, feel it, be gripped by it.”
And by what methods can we obey this command? I’ll mention four practical means that I try to use. 1) Pray that God will make your heart soft and sensitive; that he will grant you to be moved by the truth. 2) Then ponder the realities of your plight without Christ—unassuaged guilt, meaningless existence, omnipotent justice against you, and eternal punishment in hell. Lay the Scriptures before you and skip no verses. 3) Then as you move through life and see the misery of the world, the physical suffering of disease and mutilation, the emotional suffering of depression and all manner of retardation and disturbance and abnormality, and the moral wickedness of hardened sinners—as you see every case, say, “There but for the absolutely free and unmerited grace of God go I.” I don’t mean that suffering people are without grace. I only mean that all the misery and corruption we see should remind us that our plight without Christ would in the end be worse than all. 4) The fourth means of remembering our former plight with feeling is to use our imagination. Create situations in your mind of being almost dead and then saved. Imagine the time when you couldn’t swim and you stepped in a hole in the lake bottom and lost your footing and went under, and how you hugged your daddy’s neck when he grabbed you just in time. Imagine being five years old with mom shopping at Christmas time in Dayton’s downtown, and all of a sudden she’s gone and you look around in terror and big tears well up in your eyes, and how you hug her skirt when she finds you. Imagine going rock-climbing and somehow maneuvering onto a sheer face without a safety rope and suddenly finding yourself in a position where you know that if you move you will fall. You can barely inhale without losing balance. Do you not kiss the rope that falls from above?
God has given us prayer, Scripture, living illustrations of misery, and imaginations that we might remember and feel how horrid it would be to have God against us and no hope forever.
What Objections Are There to Such Remembering?
The third question we asked had to do with objections to this doctrine. I only have time to deal with one. How can the command to remember our hopelessness be squared with Paul’s statement in Philippians 3:13, 14?
Brothers, I do not consider that I have already attained (perfection); but one thing I do, forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
When Paul says that he forgets what lies behind, is he contradicting his command that the Ephesians remember what lies behind? No, indeed. The context has in view something very different to forget in Philippians 3:13 than to remember in Ephesians 2:12. In Philippians 3 Paul has just said that he counts all things as loss for the surpassing value of knowing Christ. His great aim is to share Christ’s sufferings, be conformed to his death, and attain to the resurrection of the dead. But then he cautions the church not to think that the strides he has made in this direction approach perfection. No. I don’t consider that I have attained, but forgetting all this, I press on to greater attainments. Paul is not interested in keeping a record of his spiritual attainments. He does not care much about remembering how far he has come with Christ. He cares about how much farther there is to go. Not how much of Christ he has, but how much there is yet to know. Remembering in Philippians 3 would be a threat to humility and a boon to pride. Remembering in Ephesians 2 is a threat to pride and a boon to humility.
Why Is Such Remembering So Beneficial?
And that brings us to our final question. Why is such remembering as Paul commands in Ephesians 2:12 so beneficial? Why is calling to mind and feeling our plight without Christ such an important and valuable spiritual exercise? I’ll mention just three of the benefits. The first one is illustrated in Ezekiel 16, namely, remembering the days of our hopelessness guards us from boasting in our redeemed newness and from trusting in whatever small beauty the Lord may be resurrecting out of the catastrophe of our lives. In Ezekiel 16 God pictures Israel as a baby thrown out to die which he finds and rears and marries and decks with splendor. It’s a picture of what God does with every one of us who trusts him. Listen. Verse 6:
When I passed by you and saw you weltering in your blood, I said to you in your blood, “Live and grow up like a plant of the field.” And you grew up and became tall and arrived at full maidenhood; your breasts were formed, and your hair had grown; yet you were naked and bare. When I passed by you again and looked upon you, behold, you were at the age for love; and I spread my skirt over you, and covered your nakedness: yea, I plighted my troth to you and entered into a covenant with you, says the Lord God, and you became mine. Then I bathed you with water and washed off your blood from you, and anointed you with oil. I clothed you also with embroidered cloth and shod you with leather, I swathed you with fine linen and covered you with silk . . . (13b) You grew exceedingly beautiful and came to regal estate. And your renown went forth among all the nations because of your beauty, for it was perfect through the splendor which I had bestowed upon you, says the Lord God. But you trusted in your beauty, and played the harlot because of your renown . . . (22) And in all your abominations and your harlotries you did not remember the days of your youth, when you were naked and bare, weltering in your blood.
Had they remembered, they would not have trusted in their beauty and boasted in their newness and played the harlot. They would have stayed humble and lowly. The beauty of being redeemed is always in danger of becoming self-righteousness and pride. But remembering our plight apart from Christ is a precious preventative of such pride. Let us use it!
The second benefit of such remembering is that it makes us cherish our forgiveness more. It makes us love Christ more intensely. It makes us feel the wonder of the justification of the ungodly by faith. It makes us say with Dr. Widen, “The greatest thing in the world is to be saved!” Do you remember what happened when Jesus went to eat with Simon the Pharisee (Luke 7:36ff.)? A prostitute, who had found unexpected forgiveness and cleansing from Jesus, came in and “weeping she began to wet his feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hair of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment.” The Pharisee objected, and Jesus told him a parable: “A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, the other fifty. When they could not pay, he forgave them both. Now which of them will love him more?” Simon answers correctly, the one who owed most, and Jesus simply says, “That is why the prostitute is moved to tears and you aren’t. He who is forgiven little loves little.”
Now Jesus does not mean that Simon the Pharisee is not guilty of grave sins. He called self-righteous Pharisees sons of hell. He means that if we are aware of the gravity of our sin, if we remember how terrible our plight would be without him, we would be moved. We would cherish him. Words of affection to Christ would not hang in our throats like a foreign language. We would not sing with blank faces. Business men would speak endearingly of him. Teenagers would not blush to praise his name. We would not pray with rote mechanics, if we remembered and felt the misery for the plight from which we are saved apart from all merit of our own. If you feel you are forgiven little, you will love little. Remembering is a great spiritual benefit because it will help us cherish our forgiveness more deeply. I do not believe it is possible to cleave to Christ with white-hot devotion if we do not remember and feel what our plight would be without him.
The last benefit of such remembering that I want to mention is illustrated in Ezekiel 20:42–44, namely, that it helps us exalt the righteousness of God as the great ground of our salvation and hope. If you have ever known the mingling of joy and shame when someone forgives you and treats you kindly in spite of your sin, then this text may not seem so strange to you. It’s a promise of salvation to Israel, but not without the memory of sin.
And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I bring you into the land of Israel, the country which I swore to give to your fathers. And there you shall remember your ways and all the doings with which you have polluted yourselves; and you shall loathe yourselves for all the evils you have committed. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I deal with you for my name’s sake, not according to your evil ways, nor according to your corrupt doings, O house of Israel, says the Lord God.
The two things go hand in hand, the loathing of sinful self and the exaltation of God who does all things for the sake of his name. I want us to be a people who are utterly, thoroughly, radically God-centered; purged of all boasting in ourselves; and aflame with a white-hot love for Jesus Christ who loved us and gave himself for us.
Therefore, I beseech you, “Remember that you were once separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.”
Used by permission:
By John Piper. © Desiring God. Website: desiringGod.org
Chrysostom’s Homily on Ephesians 2:11-16
“Wherefore remember, that aforetime ye the Gentiles in the flesh, who are called Uncircumcision by that which is called Circumcision in the flesh made by hands; that ye were at that time separate from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of the promise, having no hope, and without God in the world.”
There are many things to show the loving-kindness of God. First, the fact, that by Himself He hath saved us, and by Himself through such a method as this. Secondly, that He hath saved us, as being what we were. Thirdly, that He hath exalted us to the place where we are. For all these things both contain in themselves the greatest demonstration of His loving-kindness, and they are the very subjects which Paul is now agitating in his Epistle. He had been saying, that when we were dead through our trespasses, and children of wrath, He saved us; He is now telling us further, to whom He hath made us equal. “Wherefore,” saith he, “remember;” because it is usual with us, one and all, when we are raised from a state of great meanness to corresponding, or perhaps a greater, dignity, not so much as even to retain any recollection of our former condition, being nourished in this our new glory. On this account it is that he says, “Wherefore remember.”—“Wherefore.” Why, “wherefore?” Because we have been created unto good works, and this were sufficient to induce us to cultivate virtue; “remember,”—for that remembrance is sufficient to make us grateful to our Benefactor,—“that ye were aforetime Gentiles.” Observe how he lowers the superior advantages of the Jews and admires the disadvantages of the Gentiles; disadvantage indeed it was not, but he is arguing with each respectively from their character and manner of life.
“Who are called Uncircumcision.”
The honor then of the Jews is in names, their perogative is in the flesh. For uncircumcision is nothing, and circumcision is nothing.
“By that which is called,” saith he, “Circumcision in the flesh made by hands, that ye were at that time separate from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of the promise, having no hope, and without God in the world.
Ye, saith he, who were thus called by the Jews. But why when he is about to show that the benefit bestowed upon them consisted in this, in having fellowship with Israel, does he disparage the Israelitish prerogative? He does not disparage it. In essential points he enhances it, but only in these points, in which they had no fellowship, he disparages it. For further on he says, “Ye are fellow-citizens of the saints and of the household of God.” Mark, how far he is from disparaging it. These points, saith he, are indifferent. Never think, saith he, that because ye happen not to be circumcised, and are now in uncircumcision, that there is any difference in this. No, the real trouble was this, the being “without Christ,” the being “aliens from the commonwealth of Israel.” Whereas this circumcision is not “the commonwealth.” Again, the being strangers from the covenants of promise, the having no hope to come, the being without God in this world, all these were parts of their condition. He was speaking of heavenly things; he speaks also of those which are upon earth; since the Jews had a great opinion of these. Thus also Christ in comforting His disciples, after saying, “Blessed are they that have been persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” adds the lesser point of consolation, “for so,” saith He, “persecuted they the prophets which were before you.” (Matt. v. 10–12.) For this, compared with the greatness of the other, is far less, yet in regard to the being nigh, and believing, it is great and sufficient, and has much force. This then was the sharing in the commonwealth. His word is not, “separated,” but “alienated from the commonwealth.” His word is not, “ye took no interest in,” but, “ye had not so much as any part in, and were strangers.” The expressions are most emphatic, and indicate the separation to be very wide. Because the Israelites themselves were without this commonwealth, not however as aliens, but as indifferent to it, and they fell from the covenants, not however as strangers, but as unworthy.
But what were “the covenants of the promise?” “To thee and to thy seed,” saith He, “will I give this land,” (Gen. xvii. 8.) and whatever else He promised.
“Having no hope,” he adds, “and without God.” Though gods indeed they worshipped, but they were no gods: “for an idol is not any thing.” (1 Cor. x. 19.)
Ver. 13–15. “But now, in Christ Jesus, ye that once were far off, are made nigh in the blood of Christ. For He is our peace, who made both one, and brake down the middle wall of partition, having abolished in His flesh the enmity.”
Is this then the great privilege, it may be said, that we are admitted into the commonwealth of the Jews? What art thou saying? “He hath summed up all things that are in heaven, and that are in earth,” and now dost thou tell us about Israelites? Yes, he would say. Those higher privileges we must apprehend by faith; these, by the things themselves. “But now,” saith he, “in Christ Jesus, ye that once were far off, are made nigh,” in reference to the commonwealth. For the “far off,” and the “nigh,” are matters of will and choice only.
“For is our peace, Who made both one.”
What is this, “both one?” He does not mean this, that He hath raised us to that high descent of theirs, but that he hath raised both us and them to a yet higher. Only that the blessing to us is greater, because to these it had been promised, and they were nearer than we; to us it had not been promised, and we were farther off than they. Therefore it is that he says, “And that the Gentiles might glorify God for His mercy.” (Rom. xv. 9.) The promise indeed He gave to the Israelites, but they were unworthy; to us He gave no promise, nay, we were even strangers, we had nothing in common with them; yet hath He made us one, not by knitting us to them, but by knitting both them and us together into one. I will give you an illustration. Let us suppose there to be two statues, the one of silver, the other of lead, and then that both shall be melted down, and that the two shall come out gold. Behold, thus hath He made the two one. Or put the case again in another way. Let the two be, one a slave, the other an adopted son: and let both offend Him, the one as a disinherited child, the other as a fugitive, and one who never knew a father. Then let both be made heirs, both trueborn sons. Behold, they are exalted to one and the same dignity, the two are become one, the one coming from a longer, the other from a nearer distance, and the slave becoming more noble than he was before he offended.
“And brake down,” he proceeds, “the middle wall of partition.”
What the middle wall of partition is, he interprets by saying, “the enmity having abolished in His flesh, even the law of commandments contained in ordinances.” Some indeed affirm that he means the wall of the Jews against the Greeks, because it did not allow the Jews to hold intercourse with the Greeks. To me, however, this does not seem to be the meaning, but rather that he calls “the enmity in the flesh,” a middle wall, in that it is a common barrier, cutting us off alike from God. As the Prophet says, “Your iniquities separate between you and Me;” (Isa. lix. 2.) for that enmity which He had both against Jews and Gentiles was, as it were, a middle wall. And this, whilst the law existed, was not only not abolished, but rather was strengthened; “for the law,” saith the Apostle, “worketh wrath.” (Rom. iv. 15.) Just in the same way then as when he says in that passage, “the law worketh wrath,” he does not ascribe the whole of this effect to the law itself, but it is to be understood, that it is because we have transgressed it; so also in this place he calls it a middle wall, because through being disobeyed it wrought enmity. The law was a hedge, but this it was made for the sake of security, and for this reason was called “a hedge,” to the intent that it might form an inclosure. For listen again to the Prophet, where he says, “I made a trench about it.” (Isa. v. 2.) And again, “Thou hast broken down her fences, so that all they which pass by the way do pluck her.” (Ps. lxxx. 12.) Here therefore it means security and so again, “I will take away the hedge thereof, and it shall be trodden down.” (Isa. v. 5.) And again, “He gave them the law for a defence.” (Isa. viii. 20.) And again, “The Lord executeth righteous acts and made known His ways unto Israel.” (Ps. ciii. 6, 7.) It became, however, a middle wall, no longer establishing them in security, but cutting them off from God. Such then is the middle wall of partition formed out of the hedge. And to explain what this is, he subjoins, “the enmity in His flesh having abolished, the law of commandments.”
How so? In that He was slain and dissolved the enmity therein. And not in this way only but also by keeping it. But what then, if we are released from the former transgression, and yet are again compelled to keep it? Then were the case the same over again, whereas He hath destroyed the very law itself. For he says, “Having abolished the law of commandments contained in ordinances.” Oh! amazing loving-kindness! He gave us a law that we should keep it, and when we kept it not, and ought to have been punished, He even abrogated the law itself. As if a man, who, having committed a child to a schoolmaster, if he should turn out disobedient, should set him at liberty even from the schoolmaster, and take him away. How great loving-kindness were this! What is meant by,
“Having abolished by ordinances?”
For he makes a wide distinction between “commandments” and “ordinances.” He either then means “faith,” calling that an “ordinance,” (for by faith alone He saved us,) or he means “precept,” such as Christ gave, when He said, “But I say unto you, that ye are not to be angry at all.” (Matt. v. 22.) That is to say, “If thou shalt believe that God raised Him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.” (Rom. x. 6–9.) And again, “The word is nigh thee, in thy mouth, and in thine heart. Say not, Who shall ascend into heaven, or who shall descend into the abyss?” or, who hath “brought Him again from the dead?” Instead of a certain manner of life, He brought in faith. For that He might not save us to no purpose, He both Himself underwent the penalty, and also required of men the faith that is by doctrines.
“That he might create in Himself of the twain, one new man.”
Observe thou, that it is not that the Gentile is become a Jew, but that both the one and the other are entered into another condition. It was not with a view of merely making this last other than he was, but rather, in order to create the two anew. And well does he on all occasions employ the word “create,” and does not say “change,” in order to point out the power of what was done, and that even though the creation be invisible, yet it is no less a creation than that is, and that we ought not henceforward start away from this, as from natural things.
“That He might in Himself of the twain.”
That is, by Himself. He gave not this charge to another, but Himself, by Himself, melted both the one and the other, and produced a glorious one, and one greater than the first creation; and that one, first, was Himself. For this is the meaning of “in Himself.” He Himself first gave the type and example. Laying hold on the one hand of the Jew, and on the other of the Gentile, and Himself being in the midst, He blended them together, made all the estrangement which existed between them to disappear, and fashioned them anew from above by fire and by water; no longer with water and earth, but with water and fire. He became a Jew by circumcision, He became accursed, He became a Gentile without the law, and was over both Gentiles and Jews.
“One new man,” saith he, “so making peace.”
Peace for them both towards God, and towards each other. For so long as they continued still Jews and Gentiles, they could not have been reconciled. And had they not been delivered each from his own peculiar condition, they would not have arrived at another and a higher one. For the Jew is then united to the Gentile when he becomes a believer. It is like persons being in a house, with two chambers below, and one large and grand one above: they would not be able to see each other, till they had got above.
“Making peace,” more especially towards God; for this the context shows, for what saith he?
Ver. 16. “And might reconcile them both in one body unto God through the Cross.”
He saith, not merely “might reconcile,” (καταλλάξῃ) but “might reconcile thoroughly” (ἀποκαταλλάξῃ ) indicating that heretofore human nature had been easily reconciled, as, e.g., in the case of the saints and before the time of the Law.
“In one body,” saith he, and that His own, “unto God.” How is this effected? By Himself, he means, suffering the due penalty.
“Through the cross having slain the enmity thereby.”
Nothing can be more decisive, nothing more expressive than these words. His death, saith the Apostle, hath “slain” the enmity. He hath “wounded” and “killed” it, not by giving charge to another, nor by what He wrought only, but also by what He suffered. He does not say “having dissolved,” he does say “having cancelled,” but what is stronger than all, “having slain,” so that it never should rise again. How then is it that it does rise again? From our exceeding depravity. For as long as we abide in the body of Christ, as long as we are united, it rises not again, but lies dead; or rather that former enmity never rises again at all. But if we breed another, it is no longer because of Him, who hath destroyed and put to death the former one. It is thou, forsooth, that travailest with a fresh one. “For the mind of the flesh,” saith he, “is enmity against God;” (Rom. viii. 6.) if we are in nothing carnally-minded, there will be no fresh enmity produced, but that “peace” shall remain.
Moral. Think then, how vast an evil is it, when God hath employed so many methods to reconcile us, and hath effected it, that we should again fall back into enmity! This enmity no fresh Baptism, but hell itself awaits; no fresh remission, but searching trial. The mind of the flesh is luxury and indolence, the “mind of the flesh” is covetousness and all kinds of sin. Why is it said the mind of the flesh? While yet the flesh could do nothing without the soul. He does not say this to the disparagement of the flesh, any more than when he says the “natural man,” (1 Cor. ii. 14.) he uses that expression to the disparagement of the soul, for neither body nor soul in itself, if it receive not the impulse which is far above, is able to achieve any thing great or noble. Hence he calls those acts which the soul performs of herself, “natural; ψυχικά” and those which the body performs of itself “carnal.” Not because these are natural, but because, inasmuch as they receive not that direction from heaven, they perish. So the eyes are good, but without light, will commit innumerable errors; this, however, is the fault of their weakness, not of nature. Were the errors natural, then should we never be able to use them aright at all. For nothing that is natural is evil. Why then does he call carnal affections sins? Because whenever the flesh exalts herself, and gets the mastery over her charioteer, she produces ten thousand mischiefs. The virtue of the flesh is, her subjection to the soul. It is her vice to govern the soul. As the horse then may be good and nimble, and yet this is not shown without a rider; so also the flesh will then show her goodness, when we cut off her prancings. But neither again is the rider shown, if he have not skill. Nay he himself will do mischief yet more fearful than that before named. So that on all hands we must have the Spirit at hand. This being at hand will impart new strength to the rider; this will give beauty both to body and soul. For just as the soul, while dwelling in the body, makes it beautiful, but when she leaves it destitute of her own native energy and departs, like a painter confounding his colors together, the greatest loathsomeness ensues, every one of the several parts hastening to corruption, and dissolution:—so is it also when the Spirit forsakes the body and the soul, the loathsomeness which ensues is worse and greater. Do not then, because the body is inferior to the soul, revile it, for neither do I endure to revile the soul because it hath no strength without the Spirit. If one need say anything at all, the soul is deserving of the greater censure than the body; for the body indeed can do no grevious harm without the soul, whereas the soul can do much without the body. Because, we know, when the one is even wasting away, and has no wantonness, the soul is busily employed. Even as those sorcerers, magicians, envious persons, enchanters, especially cause the body to waste away. But besides this, not even luxury is the effect of the necessity of the body, but rather of the inattentiveness of the soul; for food, not feasting, is the object of the necessity of the body. For if I have a mind to put on a strong curb, I stop the horse; but the body is unable to check the soul in her evil courses. Wherefore then does he call it the carnal mind? Because it comes to be wholly of the flesh, for when she has the mastery, then she goes wrong, as soon as ever she has deprived herself of reason, and of the supremacy of the soul. The virtue therefore of the body consists in this, in its submission to the soul, since of itself the flesh is neither good nor evil. For what could the body ever do of itself? It is then by its connection that the body is good, good because of its subjection, but of itself neither good nor evil, with capacity, however, both for one and for the other, and having an equal tendency either way. The body has a natural desire, not however of fornication, nor of adultery, but of pleasure; the body has a desire not of feasting, but of food; not of drunkenness, but of drink. For in proof that it is not drunkenness that is the natural desire of the body, mark how, whenever you exceed the measure, when you go beyond the boundary-lines, it cannot hold out a moment longer. Up to this point it is of the body, but all the rest of the excesses, as e.g., when she is hurried away into sensualities, when she becomes stupefied, these are of the soul. For though the body be good, still it is vastly inferior to the soul, as lead is less of value than gold, and yet gold needs lead to solder it, and just so has the soul need also of the body. Or in the same way as a noble child requires a conductor, so again does the soul stand in need of the body. For, as we speak of childish things, not to the disparagement of childhood, but only of those acts which are done during childhood; so also are we now speaking of the body.
Yet it is in our power, if we will, no longer to be in the flesh, no, nor upon the earth, but in heaven, and in the Spirit. For our being here or there, is not determined so much by our position, as by our disposition. Of many people, at least, who are in some place, we say they are not there, when we say, “Thou wast not here. And again Thou art not here.” And why do I say this? We often say, “Thou art not at (ἐν) thyself, I am not at (ἐν) myself,” and yet what can be more material (a stronger instance of corporeal locality) than this, that a man is near to himself? And yet, notwithstanding, we say that he is not at himself. Let us then be in ourselves, in heaven, in the Spirit. Let us abide in the peace and in the grace of God, that we may be set at liberty from all the things of the flesh, and may be able to attain to those good things which are promised in Jesus Christ our Lord, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, and might, and honor, now and henceforth, and for ever and ever. Amen.