Accidentally Hating what God Loves
As an amateur theologian with enough knowledge to make me
dangerous, I have gotten myself in the thick of various pickles. (I’m mixing my
metaphors, aren’t I? See, I’m dangerous.) Over the past few weeks, I might have
inadvertently encouraged the pursuit of one such pickle: a loathing for the law
of God.
If all the law does is show me what I must but cannot do, then
the law is basically nothing more than a constant reminder of my failures.
That’s not much to celebrate, is it? Well, the truth is that we have been
focusing on only one of the law’s uses, but it actually has three. It functions
as a curb, a mirror, and a guide.
A Curb
First, the law “helps to control violent outbursts of sin
and keeps order in the world” (Luther’s Small Catechism). In this respect, it
doesn’t change human nature for the better. It simply restrains us from doing
what we would otherwise do.
A Mirror
Second, the law “accuses us and shows us our sin” (Luther’s
Smaller Catechism). It lets us see our reflection—and the sight is
horror-film-level scary. This is the use of the law I had become familiar
with—too familiar.
A Guide
The law has a third use: It “teaches us Christians what we
should and should not do to lead a God-pleasing life. . . . The power to live
according to the Law comes from the Gospel” (Luther’s Small Catechism). With
this use, the law warmly lights our darkened path and reveals where we need to
go.
The law shows us a beautiful standard: God’s standard. It
proclaims what He values and what He hates. By revealing God’s will to us, it
helps us see who God is and what He is like. It shows what is possible only for
the Christian: loving obedience to His commands.
In the first two uses, the law brings an outward control on
us that may provide some societal benefit (peace and order), but it doesn’t
bring any inward reformation. Our behavior might change (to a limited degree),
but our hearts do not. With these two uses of the law, we only experience what
Paul calls its dominion over us (Rom. 7:1). It can only coerce and condemn.
The third use of the law comes into play only after a person
experiences the new birth. Once a person is born again, the law does something
it couldn’t do before—provide an inward control. When the gospel bears fruit to
salvation, God puts His law in our minds and writes it on our hearts (Jer.
31:33). With this use of the law, we are compelled to love God from within.
When the law comes down on us from the outside, bringing its
condemning power with it, our hearts respond to the pressure in this way: they
“bear fruit to death” (Rom. 7:5). But when we die to the outward dominion of
the law and experience the inward dominion of the law, the fountain of our
heart changes: we “bear fruit to God” (Rom. 7:4). An outward compulsion of the
law brings forth sin and death. An inward compulsion of the law brings forth
righteousness and life.
Notice that I haven’t contradicted any of my earlier
statements. Even as believers, we can never obey the law of God by ourselves. “I
can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Php. 4:13) isn’t code
for, “I can now do all things by myself.” No, Jesus tells His disciples, “without
Me you can do nothing” (John 15:5). Obedience to the law of God only comes by
the power of the gospel of God.
So we see that the law and the gospel are vastly different,
though not in a contradictory sense. Just as melody and harmony combine to
provide greater musical texture, so the law and gospel work in unity to glorify
the saving work of Jesus Christ. The law shows us what is good and right and
true—but gives us no power to follow it. Through the gospel, God promises to do
in us that which is humanly impossible: willingly and happily obey Him.
This article concludes our series on the distinctions
between law and gospel. You can read the series in its entirety by clicking on
the “law vs. gospel” label at the bottom of this post.