Eighty years ago these words by were being sung for the
first time on Broadway:
In olden days, a glimpse of stocking
Was looked on as something shocking.
But now, God knows,
Anything goes.
Good authors too who once knew better words
Now only use four-letter words
Writing prose.
Anything goes.
If driving fast cars you like,
If low bars you like,
If old hymns you like,
If bare limbs you like,
If Mae West you like,
Or me undressed you like…
Anything goes.
The world has gone mad today
And good’s bad today,
And black’s white today,
And day’s night today…
Anything goes.
Was looked on as something shocking.
But now, God knows,
Anything goes.
Good authors too who once knew better words
Now only use four-letter words
Writing prose.
Anything goes.
If driving fast cars you like,
If low bars you like,
If old hymns you like,
If bare limbs you like,
If Mae West you like,
Or me undressed you like…
Anything goes.
The world has gone mad today
And good’s bad today,
And black’s white today,
And day’s night today…
Anything goes.
Cole Porter’s lyrics, once regarded as racy, seem tame by
comparison with what is everyday experience nowadays. In many ways they express
the spirit of our age: “Anything goes.”
Perhaps it should not surprise us that there is nothing new
in that perspective. I suspect that, if you looked, you would find its
promoters right back to the dawn of time. The author of Ecclesiastes in the Old
Testament experimented with this lifestyle. “Come now,” he said to himself, “I
will make a test of pleasure. Enjoy yourself… Whatever my eyes desired I did
not keep from them; I kept my heart from no pleasure…” (Ecclesiastes 2:1,10).
Back in the first century there were those who suspected
Paul of espousing just such a philosophy. It all arose out of his radical
adherence to the great Christian doctrine of grace. This is the teaching that
Paul has been at pains to expound through the first five chapters of his letter
to the Romans: that eternal fellowship with God is not something that we earn
(whether through obedience to the Law or by any other means). Rather it is a
gift that we receive as we put our trust in Christ. As Paul wrote elsewhere,
“by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it
is the gift of God—not the result of works, so that no one may boast.” I rather
like Eugene Petersen’s rather expansive treatment of these verses in The Message:
Saving is all [God’s] idea, and all [God’s] work. All we do
is trust him enough to let him do it. It’s God’s gift from start to finish! We
don’t play the major role. If we did, we’d probably go around bragging that
we’d done the whole thing! No, we neither make nor save ourselves. God does
both the making and saving.
And so in response to Paul there were those who were
asking, “If being reconciled with God is entirely a matter of his grace, of
what he has done for us in Christ, then does that mean it doesn’t matter what
we do?” “Indeed,” they were saying, “if we take your argument to its logical
conclusion, then perhaps we should sin all the more, for then we will receive
all the more of God’s grace.”
Although there is no evidence that anyone in the Roman
church was seriously proposing that lifestyle, it has cropped up in the church
from time to time. Some of Martin Luther’s radical disciples taught something
like it and he condemned their teaching as “antinomianism” (from anti, “against”, and nomos, “law”). A century after Luther, during
the Commonwealth period in England, there arose a movement called “Ranters”.
The Ranters believed that as Christians they were not constrained by any
provisions of the law, that whatever was done in the Spirit was justifiable. Rejecting
organized religion and all forms of religious and moral restraint, they saw
nudism, free love, drinking and swearing all as valid expressions of spiritual
liberation.
The Past
Needless to say, Paul is eager to defend his teaching
against such arguments. And he does so through an experience that was common to
all of those to whom he was writing: baptism. Most of those in the Roman church
would have been first-generation Christians. And so their baptism would have
been something that they remembered, I should think, vividly. Remember that in
the church’s earliest days baptism almost always followed directly from
conversion. On the day of Pentecost the three thousand new believers were
baptized almost immediately upon their response to Peter’s message of
repentance and faith. The same was true later of the Ethiopian official, Simon
the magician, Cornelius and his relatives and friends, Lydia the cloth
merchant, the jailer and his family at Philippi, and Crispus the synagogue
official and his household. So when Paul calls upon the Romans to remember
their baptism, they are looking back at a close-knit series of events that
formed the key turning point in their lives.
To be baptized was a radical act of identifying totally and
wholly with Christ. We see that in Paul’s use of the preposition “into”. It is
a word that indicates action, movement, direction. Almost without exception,
when people are baptized in the New Testament they are baptized into: into the
name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, into the name of the
Lord Jesus, into Christ. Being plunged underneath the water was a dramatic participation
in Jesus’ death on Golgotha and his burial in Joseph’s tomb. The old Prayer
Book of 1662 put it this way, in the exhortation that followed baptism:
[Remember] always, that Baptism doth represent unto us our
profession; which is, to follow the example of our Saviour Christ, and to be
made like unto him; that, as he died, and rose again for us, so should we, who
are baptized, die from sin, and rise again unto righteousness…
So it is that, going back to the earliest liturgies, baptism
has always included a form of renunciation of sin. The questions that are put
to candidates before their baptism in our Episcopal Book of Common Prayer are
clear and forthright:
Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of
wickedness that rebel against God?
I renounce them.
I renounce them.
Do you renounce all the evil powers
of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?
I renounce them.
I renounce them.
Do you renounce all sinful desires
that draw you from the love of God?
I renounce them.
I renounce them.
Paul puts all of this in blunt terms: To have been baptized,
to have repented and put our faith in Christ, he says, is to have died to sin.
But what does this mean? Does it really imply that sin lies entirely in our
past? I think most of us would confess that such is not the case. As we shall
see in the next chapter, even Paul admits his ongoing weakness in the face of
sin. “I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I
want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.” So how do we come to terms with
what Paul is saying here?
The Process
John Stott explains it well in his commentary on this
passage when he uses the image of marriage. He asks,
Can a married woman live as though she were still single? …
It is not impossible. But let her remember who she is. Let her feel her wedding
ring, the symbol of her new life in union with her husband, and she will want
to live accordingly.
Then by analogy he asks,
Can born-again Christians live as though they were still in
their sins? … It is not impossible. But let them remember who they are. Let
them recall their baptism, the symbol of their new life in union with Christ,
and they will want to live accordingly.[1]
So it is that when we put our faith in Christ, when we are
baptized into Christ, there are four things that are happening. First of all,
we are receiving the full benefit of what he has done for us through his own
death and resurrection—the forgiveness of our sins, reconciliation with God,
and a new life as subjects of his kingdom and members of his family.
At the same time we are entering into a whole new commitment.
In the gospels Jesus challenges us to deny ourselves, take up our cross daily
and follow him. And Peter echoes, “To this you have been called, because Christ
also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his
steps” (1 Peter 2:21). What Jesus and Peter (and Paul in this morning’s
passage) are talking about is a daily dying to sin and rising with him.
Just as it would be wrong for a married person to behave as
though they were single, so it is unthinkable, once we have committed ourselves
to Christ, to suppose that sin does not matter. Paul makes that emphatic after
he asks the hypothetical question, “Should we continue in sin in order that
grace may abound?” His answer: “By no means!” The words in Greek are far more
emphatic: Me genoito! Various
translations have rendered it in different ways: “Of course not!” “I should hope
not!” “Certainly not!” “Never!” “No, no!” the New English Bible puts it. Or as J.B. Phillips translates it, “What
a ghastly thought!” In every case the words are followed by an exclamation
mark. The short story is that Paul could not be more unequivocal. Even to
entertain the thought that sin could be consistent with life in Christ is
anathema.
A third thing to remember and related to this is that what
Paul is writing about is a life-long process. This is implicit in his use of
the word “walk” in verse 4. Think too of Jesus’ parables of the kingdom that we
have been hearing in our Gospel readings in recent weeks. They all have to do
with process, with growth: seeds coming to life in the soil and eventually
producing grain in abundance, a tiny measure of yeast in a lump of dough
causing it to rise into a loaf of bread, a mustard seed growing into a bush big
enough that birds can nest in its branches. That process is not always uniform.
In fact it is rarely so. We all have our ups and downs in the life of discipleship.
There may even be occasions when we mess up royally. But do we not revel in them?
Do we celebrate them? No, we repent and return to the Lord.
And that brings me to the fourth aspect of baptism. While we
are baptized as individuals, baptism ushers us into a community. Think back to
what we say together in this church when a candidate is baptized. “We receive
you into the household of God…” Paul’s words in this passage are not in the
singular but in the plural. “We have
been buried with him by baptism into death…” “We have been united with him in a death like his…” “We know that our old self was crucified with him…” We’re not playing singles
tennis here. We’re part of a team. And when we stumble and fall there are
others who are there to tend our wounds, to help us to our feet and to get us
back onto the field again. Think again of what the congregation promises at
every baptism:
Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to
support these persons in their life in Christ?
We will.
We will.
The Promise
“Dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus”: a benefit, a
commitment, a process. And it is also a promise. For while we will never make
it in this life, never even get anywhere near, we walk towards the day when we will
indeed be dead to sin, when we will be fully alive in Christ. Our walk, the
process that was set into motion at our baptism, has a destination. “Beloved,”
wrote the aged apostle John, “we are God’s children now; what we will be has
not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be
like him, for we will see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). May God keep each
one of us faithful along the journey.
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