Romans 7:15-25

William F. Schnell

July 6, 2008

Before my office was remodeled a few years ago, I sat behind a big behemoth of a desk with a huge sheet of glass on top to protect the finish.  On top of the glass was my computer screen and all sorts of other stuff.  In between the glass and the desk top I had carefully inserted some pictures of loved ones that I was careful to keep near the edge for future retrieval.  Had I inserted them beyond the reach of the slimmest of knife blades, I feared that they would be permanently displayed because it would just be too much trouble to remove everything from the top of that desk to get to them.

One day while I was out of the office, somebody gained access with a master key or a lock pick or something.  Anyway, that someone left a calling card in the form of a picture that had been inserted between the glass and desktop and then flicked or blown or in some manner deposited irretrievably far into center of my desktop.  At least it was a religious picture.  It was an icon of a saint—Saint Kevin.  Every hour I sat at that desk for the next several years I had to stare at St. Kevin.

St. Kevin is one of the patron saints of Ireland, having been born in 498 and living to the ripe old age of 120.  If that does not sound suspicious enough it is said that once during Lent, with his arms outstretched in prayer, a blackbird laid an egg in one of his hands.  It is further reported that he remained in that position until the baby bird hatched.  Whatever.  By way of comparison there are no fewer than fourteen St. Williams recognized by the Catholic Church, all of whom are associated with miracles of one sort or another.

Saints are not only canonized people entitled to public veneration and capable for interceding on behalf of people on earth, they can be any person who has died and gone to heaven.  You may be familiar with the hymn that begins: “For all the saints who from their labors rest.”  But saints can also be living members of certain religious groups such as the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  Indeed, in Paul’s letters we find many references to church members as saints.  Indeed, the letter to the Romans from which our text comes is addressed: To all in Rome who are loved by God and called to be saints (Romans 1:7).

So there is not only a Saint Kevin and a Saint William here today, there is a Saint Sally and Saint Martha and even a Saint Richard Shaw if you can believe that!  It clearly does not take a saint to be one, hence the title of our message: “Saint Sinner.”  From St. Richard to St. Kevin to St. Paul, we are talking about “Saint Sinner.”  As Paul wrote to Timothy, Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners--of whom I am the worst.  But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life (I Timothy 1:15-16).

A saint is a sinner who has been saved from the self-destructive consequences of his or her sins.  I am going to coin a clever new theological term today.  This is so good I am going to copyright this sermon to protect my intellectual property.  My new theological term is “aint”—a-i-n-t with no apostrophe.  If a saint is a sinner who has been saved, then an aint is one who, well, ain’t.  Otherwise, sinners and saints have a lot in common.  Both are complex creations who have a little angel on one shoulder and a little devil on the other, both of whom are competing with each other to influence their host for good or ill.

Saint Paul speaks about being torn between these two influences in our text for this morning.  He begins: I do not understand what I do.  For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do (Verse 15), and then in his wordy, redundant way he repeats the same thing several more times.  But I can relate to exactly what he is saying.  I do not understand what I do either.  I do lots of things I don’t really want to do, and I don’t do lots of things I really do want to do.  And the same can be said for you.

Sometimes Nan and I will be on the road, and we will stop for one of those fast food burgers on a buttered up bun and a greasy side of fries.  After we have consumed our meal and put a few miles under our belts, what is under our belts begins to grumble and sort of just sits there like a lump.  I look over at Nan and ask, “Why did you let me do that?  You know that stuff doesn’t sit well with me.”  Why do I eat copious amounts of chips and nuts when I am already well over weight?  I don’t understand what I do, do you?

Or what you don’t do.  You should exercise more.  You know it will make you feel better, look better and perform better.  But most of you (translation: us) don’t.  Why do we spend more than we bring in, both individually and collectively as a nation?  Why do we foolishly waste our energy instead of wisely conserving it?  Why do we needlessly pollute instead of cleaning up after ourselves?  Why do we do what we do or neglect to do what we ought to do?  I don’t think we understand any more than St. Paul.

I only know of two people named “Flip” in this world.  One of them is Flip Wilson, the comedian who played a character named Rev. Leroy, pastor of The Church of What’s Happening Now, or, as I like to call it, “The Church of Now What’s Happening.”  He also played a character named Geraldine, who was always heard to say: “The Devil made me do it.”  Sometimes the devil on our shoulder supersedes our better angels and causes us to do things that we really do not want to do—things that are ultimately self-destructive.

Paul continues: As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me.  I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature.  For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.  For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.  Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it (Verses 17-20).  Translation: “The devil made me do it.”

The eminent psychologist Carl Jung described what he called “autonomous complexes.”  The word autonomous is from the Greek prefix auto, meaning “self,” and the suffix nomos meaning “law.”  An autonomous complex is a complex part of our personality that is a law unto itself.  Most of us have certain irrational fears or phobias.  A person who is claustrophobic has an irrational fear of small spaces.  Intellectually such people can understand that there is nothing to fear, but confine them to a small space and they freak out. 

Other autonomous complexes can control our lives in less-than-positive ways.  Compulsions to eat too much (or too little), or consume too much alcohol or drugs, or gamble or indulge sexually perverse passions and so forth are autonomous complexes that defy our intellectual ability to understand or control them.  They have taken control of us.  In the Bible they are referred to as demonic possessions, or demons.  Demons are not little devils with horns and tails and pitchforks which reside on our shoulders.  But they are real, internal, self-destructive influences that have taken control of our lives.

Paul continues: So I find this law (this law unto itself—this autonomous complex) at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me.  For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members.  What a wretched man I am!  Who will rescue me from this body of death? (Verses 21-23).  If I cannot save myself from my demons, who will save me?

It sounds as if Paul is speaking from the voice of experience here.  We have already heard Paul confess to not only being a sinner but the worst of sinners.  In another place he obliquely refers to his struggle against a persistent demonic issue in his life—what he calls a thorn in his flesh—that kept him humble when he might otherwise have become puffed up as a visionary apostle of Jesus Christ.  He writes: To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.  Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me.  But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" (I Corinthians 12:7-9). 

What was this thorn?  He does not tell us.  Perhaps because he is ashamed of it or more likely so that we can fill in the blank with whatever thorn is in our flesh.  What he does tell us is that it was sent from Satan, the Prince of Demons, and that it was intended to torment him.  We are also told that after praying to God about it, God did not so much remove it as he helped Paul to compensate for it.  Paul remained the fallible human being he had always been, but now he was empowered by the grace of God to do what he had been powerless to do for himself.  That is the difference between a sinner and a saint.

People smitten with the demon called alcoholism cannot control their consumption of alcohol.  They may lose their livelihoods, their spouses and children, their health and their self-respect, but still they will drink.  Many literally drink themselves to death.  They did not start off wanting to die.  They did not intend to hurt those they were meant to love the most.  They did not aspire to lose everything they had previously worked to achieve.  They simply lost control to a demonic possession.

Some, however, find their way to Alcoholics Anonymous before it is too late, where they discover “a higher power” a.k.a. God.  God does not take away their alcoholism.  They will always be alcoholics.  What God does is empower them to become recovering alcoholics.  This Higher Power empowers them to do what they were powerless to do for themselves.  He empowers them to quit drinking completely, he restores their lives (often including their marriages and livelihoods) and he sanctifies them, meaning he makes saints of them to reach others whose lives are similarly demon-possessed. 

Paul confesses: What a wretched man I am!  Who will rescue me from this body of death?  Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord! (Verses 24-25).  Jesus calls sinners to fellowship with him at his table this morning.  Let’s be clear about something here lest we be accused of being hypocritical holier-than-thou self-righteous types.  The Church is populated with sinners.  As has been mentioned here many times before, you do not separate the world into those who are sinners and those who are not.  You can only separate it into those who know what they are and those who do not.

Do you know what you are?  I do.  My daughter brought her boyfriend with her to church today.  He is a human being who has his share of human failings and faults.  I know, I have made a list.  I brought it with me to share with you but I cannot seem to find it right now.  Never mind.  He is just like me, and he is just like you.  His name is Patrick—a perfect name to go with the prefix, “Saint.”  The Lord wants to put that prefix before the name of every sinner who knows what he or she is—Saint Sinner if you will.

What a wretched man I am! Paul the sinner confesses, even as Paul the saint rejoices: “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.”