Comforts from Romans

Celebrating the Gospel One Day at a Time

By Elyse M. Fitzpatrick

Good News Publishers

Copyright © 2013 Elyse M. Fitzpatrick
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4335-3319-8

Contents

Introduction,
Day 1 A Ruined Righteousness (Rom. 1:1),
Day 2 The Gospel of God (Rom. 1:1),
Day 3 A Hidden Glory (Rom. 1:3–4),
Day 4 Loved by God (Rom. 1:6–7),
Day 5 The Righteousness of God (Rom. 1:16–17),
Day 6 According to His Works (Rom. 2:6–11),
Day 7 The Praise of God (Rom. 2:28–29),
Day 8 But Now … God (Rom. 3:21–26),
Day 9 Upholding the Law (Rom. 3:27–31),
Day 10 Expecting a Blessing (Rom. 4:3–8),
Day 11 A Blessing to the Whole Earth (Rom. 4:13),
Day 12 Counted as Righteous (Rom. 4:22–25),
Day 13 Standing in Grace (Rom. 5:1–2),
Day 14 But How Can That Be Right? (Rom. 5:6),
Day 15 Saved by Him from His Wrath (Rom. 5:9),
Day 16 Reconciled Friends (Rom. 5:10),
Day 17 Reigning in Life (Rom. 5:17),
Day 18 One Man’s Obedience, Part 1 (Rom. 5:19),
Day 19 One Man’s Obedience, Part 2 (Rom. 5:19),
Day 20 One Man’s Obedience, Part 3 (Rom. 5:19),
Day 21 One Man’s Obedience, Part 4 (Rom. 5:19),
Day 22 Of Death and Life and the Power of a New Identity (Rom. 6:1–2),
Day 23 Remember Who You Are (Rom. 6:11),
Day 24 Under Law, under Grace (Rom. 6:14),
Day 25 God Forbid! (Rom. 6:17–18),
Day 26 Freed to Serve through Death (Rom. 7:1, 6),
Day 27 Holy and Righteous and Good (Rom. 7:12),
Day 28 Blessed Wretchedness (Rom. 7:24–25a),
Day 29 No Condemnation–No, Not Now, Not Ever (Rom. 8:1),
Day 30 All Things (Rom. 8:28–30),
Day 31 If God Is for Us (Rom. 8:31–34),
Day 32 Nothing Can Separate Us from God’s Love (Rom. 8:38–39),
Appendix 1 Romans 8,
Appendix 2 The Most Important Good News,
Notes,

CHAPTER 1

A Ruined Righteousness

Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus … — Romans 1:1

The great apostle Paul, who wrote much of the New Testament, established churches, and ultimately suffered martyrdom, didn’t deserve God’s blessing. He didn’t deserve to call himself a “servant,” a “bondservant,” or even a “love slave” of Jesus Christ. No, he deserved to be called an “enemy” because, after all, that’s the identity he had chosen for himself. You remember that before he became Christ’s servant, he was a man who breathed out “threats and murder” against Christ’s church (Acts 9:1). A servant of Christ Jesus? Hardly.

Paul gloried in his role as persecutor of the church, because he hated the gospel. Yes, I know: “hated” seems like a strong word, but that is exactly how Paul felt. He hated the gospel so much that he determined to root it out and ruin the lives of those who loved it (Gal. 1:13). But then God ruined him, not by giving him the judgment he deserved but by giving him grace instead.

Don’t be mistaken. Aside from his hatred of Christians, Paul would have been just the sort of person you would have wanted for a neighbor. He came from a good home; he always obeyed all the rules. He would have mowed his lawn and voted, and never would have hung around with shady characters. Yes, we would assume that Paul was a great candidate to receive the love of God. After all, who was more zealous for righteousness than he? But our assumption would have been wrong. Of course, God loved Paul but not because Paul was good. No, God loved Paul in spite of his religious goodness, which was the very thing that made Paul repulsive in God’s eyes (Isa. 64:6). You see, Paul’s problem was not that he was outwardly bad, but rather that he trusted in his own goodness and ability to satisfy the law’s demands. It was his self-trust that made him the enemy of Jesus. And so one day, on the road to Damascus, God ruined his self-righteousness — with grace.

Here’s the shocking news: God loves to display his mercy by wrecking “good” people. That seems counterintuitive, doesn’t it? We think that God loves to wreck bad people, to strip them of their badness, and, of course, he does. But God also delights in wrecking those who seem good, at least outwardly. Paul’s primary impediment to relationship with God was not his irreligion. It was his religion. Don’t forget: Paul truthfully boasted that he had been “advancing” beyond all his contemporaries and was “extremely zealous” for the law (Gal. 1:14). Paul saw himself as a champion of the one true faith, and it was this very identity that barred him from serving the God he would have said he was living for. Paul needed wrecking, and Jesus was just the one to do it. So one day, just when we would assume that Paul had gone too far and really blown his chances with Jesus, Jesus knocked him off his feet, blinded him, and introduced him to grace. What a Savior!

Paul’s story is good news for those of us who are tempted to put our trust in ourselves, in our own ability to work hard enough to merit God’s favor. Grace is so surprising! It’s surprising because while it may seem likely that a prostitute would recognize her need for rescue, the homeschooling, bread-baking, devotion-reading mom who attends her local church faithfully (while trusting in her own goodness) will choke on the humiliating message of gospel rescue. Rescue? Why would she need rescuing?

If we are to embrace the message of the gospel and become free, joyous, and zealous servants of Jesus Christ, then all — and I really mean all — the work has to be done by him. Why? So that all the glory will go to him, so that we boast in the work of Jesus alone (Isa. 48:11). “Then what becomes of our boasting?” Paul asks. “It is excluded,” he answers (Rom. 3:27). Paul learned how the Father strips us of everything we’re tempted to trust in. He confessed that he had finally given up relying on his own goodness and was instead counting all his religiousgoodness

as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith. (Phil. 3:8–9)

Through the good news of the gospel, the Lord graciously strips us of our slavish devotion to our reputation and says, “Count it as rubbish so that you might gain the true righteousness from my Son.” He frees us from the incessant nagging of our inner slave driver and frees us to love others without being slavishly driven by them either. He ruins our pride in our accomplishments, thereby freeing us from the demand that others live up to our expectations.

As our short time today now nears an end, I wonder how you would describe yourself. Do you think of yourself as God’s servant? I would imagine that you do, but what does that servant identity rest on? Paul had formerly assumed that he was serving God because he was zealous and working harder than anyone else, and that perspective made him cruel and demanding. Paul was wrong. He was wrong because he trusted in himself instead of in Jesus. Does your servant identity rest primarily on the work you hope to accomplish today? Or does it rest on the service and righteousness of Another? Are you free to love others who do not live up to your standards? Can you say, “Nothing in my hands I bring, simply to Thy cross I cling”?

CHAPTER 2

The Gospel of God

Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus … set apart for the gospel of God. — Romans 1:1

There are certain “Christian” words that we can become overly familiar with. Sadly, the word gospel is primary among them. After all, our Christian life doesn’t even begin until we hear and believe the gospel; but then most of us go on, leaving it behind with the rest of the trappings of our spiritual infancy, as if we didn’t need it anymore. My guess is that about now you might be wondering if you need to read this today. I mean, after all, don’t you already know the gospel? Even the word itself seems trite, doesn’t it? Gospel — really?

Believe me, I understand this response because it’s how I respond too. My heart is so bent in upon itself that it’s easy for me to think that I already get everything that needs to be gotten about the gospel and that I should move on to where the real action is, in other words, me and my day. Won’t you please bear with me, though, while I rehearse gospel truth to you once again? Perhaps it’s the very thing your tired old soul needs to hear today.

The word gospel literally means “good message” or “good news.” In this case, it is a message or news report specifically about Jesus — who he is and what he has done. It is not a report about us or how we’re doing. It is a report about how the Son, the second person of the Trinity, left heaven to be clothed with human flesh and become a human being, just like us. Jesus was born in the same way as the rest of us; he lived in a real home with real parents, siblings, and friends. Like you, he felt tired and hungry, and when the desert sun beat down on his head, he perspired and thirsted for a drink. He yawned and stretched, rubbed sore feet, felt the sting when his siblings hit him and friends deserted him. He enjoyed hugs from his mom and dad, a splash in cool water, and a good meal. He had to learn table manners and how to read. He grew in his understanding of his identity and calling, all the while perfectly fulfilling every command of the law in our place.

Then, after living in virtual obscurity for thirty years, he began his life’s work of publicly inaugurating the kingdom of God: he called disciples, taught the masses, healed the sick, and delivered those who were oppressed by the Devil. He perfectly fulfilled his life’s work as he prepared to give himself as an offering for sin. He suffered every day and especially during the final days of his earthly life. He cried in Gethsemane as he became more and more aware of God’s impending wrath. Like a lamb, he stood silently before Pilate and the Sanhedrin. He was mocked, scourged, stripped, beaten, and spit upon. He bore the crossbeam up Calvary’s hill and was hoisted up between heaven and earth. And then he began to suffer like no one had ever suffered before or would ever suffer again.

His Father poured down an eternity’s worth of wrath upon him for all the sins of his chosen ones — in three hours. Then, when he had finished all his work, when he had emptied every drop from the cup of his Father’s wrath, he relinquished his life into the hands of the Father he loved, who had just crushed him. His body was taken down and placed in a cave. A stone was rolled in front of the opening. All was darkness. But then, after three days, he was raised to new life by the power of the Holy Spirit. Again he emerged into the dim light of our world, bringing with him the ineffable brightness of a universe remade, having reversed the curse and defeated the power of darkness forever.

For the next forty days he taught his friends about the kingdom of God and gave them deep assurance of his resurrection. With great joy he then ascended to his home and was received into heaven’s loving embrace. Gifts of celebration were sent back upon his church, gifts that would remind, preserve, enlighten, and empower his bride as he took up his throne, ruling as King over her until he is, at last, reunited with her. This is the good news of Jesus Christ; this is the gospel.

But the gospel also has a subjective component. It is the good news about what Jesus has done, but unlike any other news you might see on television, his work speaks to us personally. It is good news for us. The gospel brings us into relationship with him; it transforms and liberates us; it makes us altogether new. The facts about his incarnation, perfection, death, resurrection, ascension, rule, and bestowal of the Spirit change everything. His incarnation tells you that he knows by experience what it is to be you today. Are you walking through a time of trial? He’s walked through it too. He understands completely. His death and perfect life mean that not only are you forgiven for your sin, that God has no wrath left for you, but also that his record of perfect obedience is yours — today.

The resurrection demonstrates that just as the power of death has been forever broken, the power of sin in your life has been crushed, too. It also speaks to God’s acceptance of Jesus’s sacrifice for you. His ascension tells you that the incarnation is ongoing: he continues to wear your flesh and rules from heaven with nail-scarred hands. By sending the Spirit, he assures us that the Father has welcomed him home and that we will be welcomed home one day also. Now, that’s good news!

Oh, my friends, do you think about this good news every day? Won’t you let it inform, enflame, embolden, and cheer you? The gospel? Oh, yeah. We should be like little children screaming, “Again! Again!” when we hear the gospel, and never let our calloused hearts grow tired of it. “Again! Again!”

CHAPTER 3

Day 3

A HIDDEN GLORY

… concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord … — Romans 1:3–4

The gospel is good news about Jesus Christ. Paul tells us that Jesus was the expected one the prophets had foretold, the one the Law and the Prophets bore witness to (Rom. 3:21; 16:26); he was Messiah, David’s son, who would reign eternally from his throne (Ps. 89:3–4; Jer. 23:5–6). For hundreds of years the nation of Israel had been awaiting the Messiah’s coming, but many failed to recognize him when he finally arrived. Why? Because his glory was hidden in weakness and humility. He didn’t look much like a king. Where were his royal robes? Where was his bejeweled scepter? No one heard his voice in the street demanding allegiance (Matt. 12:19). If he was Israel’s king, why wasn’t he crushing her enemies under his boot instead of healing the enemies’ servants? (Matt. 8:5–13). Paul describes Jesus’s humiliation in Philippians 2:6–7:

Though he was in the form of God, [he] did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.

Where was his glory? It was hidden in weakness and humiliation, in questionable ancestry, in poverty and insignificance. Yes, Jesus was the son of David, but not in the way you would expect. He was descended from David “according to the flesh,” not according to good breeding, not according to sterling reputation or great political power, but according to the flesh.

Think of that: Paul’s first description of Jesus wasn’t that he is the “Son of God in power,” but rather that he “descended from David according to the flesh.” What was David like? We like to clean him up and think of him as the sweet psalmist, a “man after God’s own heart” (see 1 Sam. 13:14; Acts 13:22), and he was that. But he was also an adulterer and a murderer. He was responsible not only for the deaths of his illegitimate child and of Uriah (Bathsheba’s husband), but also for the slaughter of seventy thousand others (2 Sam. 24:15). Jesus identified with David according to the flesh. He identified with David, the murderer, the sinner. He isn’t ashamed to be called David’s brother (Heb. 2:11).

Of course, that Jesus was “descended from David according to the flesh” means that he is incarnate, fully human, but it also means that Jesus shares our ancestry. He takes on our humiliation and shame. In order for Jesus to be our mediator, he had to suffer every part of our humiliation, to identify fully with us. He had to start out with a bad reputation — like us. Wasn’t he the illegitimate son? Wasn’t he the son of a loser? Didn’t he hang out with losers?

For our sake, Jesus had to be fully tempted to see his identity as rooted solely in his earthly reputation. Then he had to fight to fulfill his purpose as the incarnate Son even though his glory was (temporarily) hidden. He had to suffer the humiliation of the thorns, the lash, the robe, the spikes, the insults, and the scoffing. And then he had to suffer the humiliation of being deserted by his Father just when his reputation should have, finally and at last, been fully proved. Instead, at that pivotal moment when he should have been vindicated, we hear him crying out in agony, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matt. 27:46; Mark 15:34).

Oh, now finally, this is the time for glory, but it comes after shame: he “was declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord.” For him, humiliation meant being called the Son of David before he was proven to be the Son of God with power. “The Gospel, then, is the joyous message of Christ, the Son of God, who first humbled Himself and then was glorified through the Holy Spirit.”

Ah, here’s power and glory on display. But it doesn’t come the way we think it will. It flows out of great weakness. In fact, it comes because of the great weakness, humility, and submission of Jesus. He would not have known the power of the resurrection, the majestic name “Son of God with power,” if he had not first known the humiliation of death. “Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name” (Phil. 2:9).

The gospel takes everything we think we know about getting ahead and turns it upside down. It shows us the power of weakness and the glory in humiliation. I admit that I hate humiliation. I don’t like feeling weak, and in every way that I continue to try to hang on to my good reputation and fight against God’s humbling, I militate against the gospel and the work of Jesus. I forget that God “resists the proud but gives grace to the humble” (1 Pet. 5:5; see also James 4:6). I always want the crown without the cross. Is it the same for you? The good news is that Jesus walked through humiliation perfectly so that even when we succumb to our pride, we have his good reputation — a reputation of sweet humility and perfect submission to God’s will. We have his identity now: we are his royal sons, crowned with his glory and honor, or as Stuart Townend sings, “All the blessings he deserved [are] poured on my unworthy soul.”

(Continues…)Excerpted from Comforts from Romans by Elyse M. Fitzpatrick. Copyright © 2013 Elyse M. Fitzpatrick. Excerpted by permission of Good News Publishers.
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