A Never Failing Principle
“For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” — Romans 6:2j.
There is no principle more unfailing than this. It is one of God’s inevitable laws and it is the more emphasized because it is stated by Paul, the Apostle, and is found in the Epistle to the Romans. This whole letter is a masterful argument and Paul himself was a mighty writer. No verse in Romans could properly be taken separately for treatment or studied out of its connection. Paul is such a logician and his Epistle is such an argument that it must be studied as a whole to be appreciated.
Each writer or speaker has words peculiar to his own vocabulary.
Peter’s word is ^’precious.” He speaks of “precious promises,” “precious blood,” and a “precious-Savior.”
Paul’s words most frequently used are, “for,” “but,” and “therefore.” The two former are to be found in the scripture above quoted.
There are three “therefores” in the Epistle to the Romans which should receive our special attention, and these three stand out like great moimtain peaks in his argument.
Romans 5; /. “Therefore being justified by faith we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Romans 8: i. “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the spirit.”
Romans 12: i. “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service.”
In each case we must study all that precedes if we would appreciate his conclusions. In the first chapter of Romans he is giving a striking description of sin. No better picture of the condition of the human heart has ever been drawn. It is said that when one of the missionaries was translating this scripture into Chinese his Chinese amanuensis refused to continue the work when the first chapter of Romans was reached because he said he would not be guilty of making known publicly the condition of his own people.
Following the picture of sin is the reference to Israel, and following this reference Christ is offered for our sins, and because of faith in Him we are justified. In the 6th chapter the writer strikes a note of warning, calling attention to the license which some people might feel it possible to indulge in because of justification, and at the close of this chapter he uses the scripture with which this chapter is introduced, “For the wages of sin is death.”
The difference between wages on one side and a gift on the other side, the one calling for untiring energy and almost ceaseless toiling, the other accepted with no effort put forth at all except the outreaching hand to receive the gift, presents to us the difference between the two masters, one the Christian’s Master, the other the one whom the world serves.
The background of Paul’s picture here is sin. We cannot eliminate it from our consideration, if we do other errors instantly creep into our thinking and ultimately to our living, lax ideas of sin produce fruit in lax ideas concerning the necessity for an atonement. Sin is not simply an error, nor is it a mistake, but it is a damnable thing, too black to be described in human language. So great was it in the thought of God that it demanded an infinite sacrifice, the blood of bulls and goats could not longer suffice. God pity the man who in the face of such a thought trifles with sin, encourages its practice in his life and seeks to cover it over in his heart. In the awful havoc which it has wrought it changes the expression of one’s countenance.
The story of the two paintings by Leonardo da Vinci is one that may be paralleled every day in actual life. The great artist had painted the face of a lovely child, and was so fascinated by the picture that he kept it constantly before his gaze in his studio. The sight of the beautiful child’s face tranquilized his soul in sorrow or in anger. He resolved to paint a picture which should be its opposite. Long and patiently he searched for a model, but could find no face bad enough to parallel in hideousness the angelic beauty of the young face in his studio. Many years afterwards, when he had given up the search, he looked upon the almost inhuman countenance of a criminal, lying in despair on the floor of a prison cell. At length he had found the model for whom he had been looking. He painted the terrible face, and then learned to his amazement that the crime-hardened man and the angel child were one and the same. Brutal passions had transformed the seraph into a demon. The body had been refashioned by the mind.
It undermines character. I never have known of one making a conspicious public failure that investigation did not prove the fact that the one failing had begun with the commission of some almost trifling sin and the one transgression made the next easier until at last the wreck was complete.
In India the white ants burrow their way into the rafters of the cottages. So small is their work that it is not noticed by the casual passer by, but when the storm comes the house which seemed strong falls almost with the first touch of the wind and the wreck is complete. The work began with the burrowing of an ant hole. So do men fail.
// breaks up households. I went one day to call upon a young business man to ask him to come to Christ. I knew his heart was tender because of the recent death of his wife, but while he received me graciously he declined to accept Christ, saying that he had no need of Him, his character was strong and his every inclination against sin he said. But one day my telephone bell rang sharply and I was called back into the same house to comfort four little children who were not only motherless but worse than fatherless. In a down town hotel the father was lying dead by his own hand. Shortly after our conversation a strong temptation had overpowered him, he had changed one figure in his books and he died a defaulter to the extent of a quarter of a million of dollars. His children were scattered almost literally to the four winds, their names were changed that they might forget their father, and he is in Eternity awaiting Judgment.
This is sill. It not only blights the offender himself but it injures others, and this is the sad thing about sin. Dr. Talmage once said there were five acts in the rum tragedy.
Act the First.
A graduation scene where a young man gaining the honors of his class and the applause of the commencement audience steps forth into life with every prospect of winning a victory.
Act the Second.
The sound of marriage bells is heard and the whole sky seems bright with promise that the life thus nobly begun shall go on with increasing power and strength.
Act the Third.
A cloud has begun to appear in the sky and the man whose future was so bright is beginning to go down under the touch of sin.
Act the fourth.
A woman waiting in a poorly furnished room with a child crying at her knees. She is looking and listening for the return of one who now comes home with unsteady step, but she waits in vain.
Act the Fifth.
Three graves in a dark place. The grave of a child who died of neglect; the grave of a wife and mother, who died of a broken heart; the grave of a father and husband, who sent himself into eternity and learns to-day that the wages of sin is death.
It is small in its beginning, so small indeed that men do not fear it. They think that they can begin when they choose and stop when they please, but they wake up one day to learn that they have been forging chains of habit and are bound hand and foot. While seated in the office of a friend, who was an official on the Southern Pacific Railroad, he asked me if I had seen the big trees in California, and when I told him that I had simply seen them from the car window, he showed me a measuring line on which was printed his affidavit that he had made measurements which were astonishing. The circumference of one tree was 105 feet and the diameter 35 feet, while the height was something enormous. He said to me: “These big trees are sermons in themselves. They are the oldest things we know and they never die except when some outside force is brought to bear upon them. How large would you think,” said he, “the seed of a big tree might be?” And I answered, “Judging from the size I should say it might be as large as a pumpkin.” He smiled and held out before me on a piece of paper the seeds of the great trees, and they were smaller than a mustard seed. So it is with sin. It begins with an evil imagination, an impure thought and unholy ambition, but the end is death.
It is deceiving in its influence. This is true of some diseases. Traveling through New Mexico and Arizona recently, where very many people are the subjects of the dread disease of consumption, I failed to find one who felt the danger of his position. The disease is said to be flattering and the subject thinks that he is growing better until suddenly he is face to face with eternity. How many men there are who will tell you that they can go just so far and stop! How few there are that expect ever to be lost!
I have read that the Vampire Bat in the West Indies fans its victim to sleep while it sucks away its life blood. This is sin and its wages is death.
It is sure in its progress. For every man in Christ and out, the scripture should be plainly written, “Be sure your sin will find you out.” There is no escape from this; hide it as securely as you please and one day there will be a Resurrection. It will come at the time when you least expect it and also at the time when you can least afford to meet it. In the island of Ceylon I have been told that there are more than forty serpents whose sting is deadly. There is one at least which if it should sting your hand or foot you would be dead in a minute, and yet death is not more sure as the result of the serpent’s sting than it is sure as a result of the practice of sin.
It is degrading in its influence, it can tear down the strongest character and blight and mar the happiest future. The story is told of a man in New York City whose position was all that man could desire. Under the stress of temptation he began to fail, lie went from bad to worse, moved from one house to another, each time his apartments growing smaller. He became cruel in his treatment of his wife and children and one day as he returned, maddened by the power of strong drink, his little twoyear-old child ran to meet him, when picking him up in his fury, he threw him from him, the child struck upon the stone step and they picked him up dead. This is sin, and the wages of sin is death.
It is the worst sort of bondage. That poor deluded man who shot Andrew H. Green, the father of Greater New York, gave as an explanation the following: “I used to be a good man,” he said, “but I sold myself to the devil and he made me do what I have done. I could not help myself.” The raving of this poor soul is a picture of many another man. If you doubt it yourself, try to break some habit and to free yourself from some sin and see how it will pursue you.
It is sure in its punishment, its wages are something terrific. Not only the sleepless nights, the condemning conscience, the weakened character, the blighted future, the lost reputation, these things in themselves are bad enough, but the future baffles description. No word of mine could paint it black enough. The wages of sin is death.
The question may be asked, “What is the greatest sin?” There may be a difference of opinion concerning this among men. Some men count drunkenness the greatest, others imagine impurity to be the chiefest of all sins, still others suggest that it may be dishonesty, but the word of God has declared that the greatest of all sins is the rejection of Jesus Christ, and when men stand face to face with God in judgment the question will be not concerning one’s impurity, dishonesty or intemperance, but rather this, “What did you do with Jesus Christ?” and upon the answer to this question man will stand or fall at the Judgment bar.
What is the remedy which can be offered to meet this awful condition? There are two suggestions made; one is born on earth, the other sent down from Heaven. The first is the suggestion of man. We are told that if our environment be only changed our condition will be so much the better. It will be an easy thing for us then to break away from the power of sin. This certainly is not true. If environment had such power Adam and Eve never would have sinned, for they lived in Paradise; Judas never would have fallen, for he was so near to Jesus Christ that it was possible for him to touch Him, to see plainly the expression of His countenance and almost to hear the beating of His heart, and yet he sold his Lord and sent his soul to Hell.
We are told again that if character only be strengthened and conduct be rightly ordered the result will be the breaking away of sin. In other words, we are commanded to do our best and God will look with favor upon us. But this cannot be true, for we are sinners and our sin has been against God, and many of those whom Jesus Christ came to save have lost all power of will, have almost lost the desire to be good and true. He is a mighty Savior to all such. Their characters are ruined; they can do nothing of themselves. It is a good thing to suggest to each person who would save the sinner that if his method of salvation is to prove effective he ought to try it upon those w-ho are the lowest down and the most depraved. If it fails with them it is of no use to others. Our Gospel is for all such, the gift of God is eternal life, and if the poor depraved sinner has simply strength enough to reach forth his hand as he would put it out to take a cup of water he may be saved.
God’s remedy which was decided upon in Heaven is described in the text. The gift of God is eternal life. In the scripture we are told, “Christ died for our sins,” and that settles the sin question judicially. God could not look with indifference upon the smallest transgression and in order that he might be just and the Justifier of all them that believe, He so loved the world that he gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. Therefore, if we would be saved let us accept the gift, eternal life — which is only another way of saying, “the life of the eternal.” This life is in us; by means of it we are able to overcome temptation. It is in us; because of it we can bear up in trial.
When Commander Booth-Tucker was paying a tribute to his noble wife at the funeral service held in Carnegie Hall, New York, he said: “I was one day talking to a man in Chicago, asking him to come to Christ, when he said, ‘If God had taken your beautiful wife and left you alone with your children would you still believe in Him?’ And, said the great Salvation Army officer, “If that man is in the audience to-day I want to say to him that God has taken my beautiful wife and left me alone with my children and He has never been nearer to me than now and I have never loved Him more.” This is really being a Christian, and the strength to bear up under such trial is the gift of God.
He is in us making it possible for us to live as we ought to live. If we could accustom ourselves to ordering our days by some particular statement of scripture we would be surprised to see how bright the day would be. Let the motto of one day be, “Bear ye one another’s burdens,” or the truth for another day, “Let each esteem others better than himself.” And he who practices the presence of God in such a way and lives according to the teachings of Christ will find the days of earth to be days of Heaven and his character transfigured.
I would like to make an appeal to all who may read these words and such an appeal as might stir the emotions and quicken the memory, perhaps bring before them the vision of a mother or the sermon of the preacher of olden days as a result of which the reader might be saved. If you go to a Rescue Mission and ask the most depraved to tell you what it is that has saved him from final destruction and despair he will tell you, “My mother’s prayer or my father’s hope or my Sunday School teacher’s influence.”
There came one day into the city of St. Louis a Christian woman from the country, and she asked one of the ministers to permit her to accompany him to the hospital, as she had not visited such an institution before. She carried on her arm a basket of honey-suckle and she wanted to place a spray upon each cot in the hospital ward. I am quite sure that the fragrance of the honey-suckle could stir many a sacred memory. One of my friends told me one day in New York that the odor of a honey-suckle always took her back to her childhood’s home in the south and she never could think of it without weeping. Passing from cot to cot the country woman placed the flowers wherever possible in the hands of the sufferers. She came to one cot where a screen had been placed about it. This was a new experience for her. She put the honey-suckle in the dying girl’s hand and was just turning away when she saw the lips moving and bending down she heard the girl whispering, “Mother, I smell the fragrance of the honey-suckle outside my window,” and when she looked the second time she cried out, “Margaret, my child, my child,” for it was her own daughter who had wandered away and was dying because of her sin. It was the fragrance of the honey-suckle that aroused the girl and resuUcd not only in reunion with her mother but in the winning of her soul to Christ. I am afraid when I think of men delaying the acceptance of Jesus Christ and see them trifling with sin. I would that I might bring to your memory a picture of His suffering and dying and the plea made to you by some one in other days.
Not long ago in California I was told of the salmon fishermen who work at the mouth of the Columbia river. Hundreds of little fishing boats put out at sunset, each having two fishermen on board. They sail to the spot where they are to work, then set their nets as the tide is coming in and boat and net drift upward with the tide. Then the tide turns and the boat drifts back again to the sea. When the morning breaks it is seen that the boat is near the breakers. The fishermen go as far as they can, then begin to draw in the nets, drifting all the time towards death. One fisherman is seen to stop. Something holds his net. It is full, evidently, and he tarries a moment too long attempting to draw it in at any cost, and before he can escape the boat is drawn outward again towards the sea and the fisherman is lost, all because of the moment’s delay. So I lift my cry to every halting, hesitating man, telling him that “the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life.” I beseech you therefore, reader, to take the gift.