Now him that is weak in the faith receive, not to [the] determining of questions of reasoning.
Romans 14 turns from doctrine to daily life: how believers treat each other when they disagree. It opens with a command rather than a debate — welcome the one who is weak in faith, and do not drag him into arguments.
The word "weak" is often taken as an excuse for careless living. One writer rules that out:
The words "the one who is weak in faith" do not mean someone who treats sin lightly — people often apply them that way, to drunkenness and the like. They mean a believer who, because of prejudices left over from the law, was anxious about days, foods, and so on. The question is about ritual, not morals.
So what is he short of? Not love for Christ, but a full grasp of where he stands:
Those weak in the faith knew Christ and loved Him, but they did not yet fully know their position in Christ. They did not realise that keeping certain days, or avoiding certain foods and drinks, could not affect their salvation in any way. They had worries and troubled consciences, as God's people still do.
The command rests on the fact of a person's faith, not on the size of it:
"Welcome the one who is weak in faith." That is the plain, direct command of the Lord. He knows His sheep, and He will reject no one who truly comes to Him (John 6:37). We receive him as a believer, whatever the degree or measure of his faith. That measure can vary widely. There are babies who need milk, as well as grown men who eat solid food (Heb. 5:12-14).
This welcome starts in the heart:
Receiving those weak in the faith (Rom. 14:1) means nothing more than this: do not reject them in heart and spirit because they were weak about Jewish prejudices and the like. One man ate herbs, another meat. One man kept Good Friday — so to speak. Own them warmly, as you would anyone else. Only do not puzzle them with mere questions they cannot bear.
The second half of the verse blocks a common abuse: welcoming someone so you can sort out his opinions. The cure for weak faith is teaching, not debate:
We are not to receive them so that we can start arguing over points of difference. Such arguments would indeed be a "quarrel over opinions," or, in another rendering, the "determining of questions of reasoning." Those who are strong must remember something: the "weak" brother is weak in his grasp of "the faith," not in his power to reason. So what he needs is a larger understanding of the whole truth of God. Teach him that with patience, and many of these questions will settle themselves.
The command cuts both ways, and neither side may use reception as leverage:
The one received must not think that his welcome also welcomes his own views about foods or days. And those who receive a man with a conscience about such things must not use the occasion to interfere with his convictions before the Lord.
The verse guards against error on both flanks:
We may make a mistake either way. We may grow so narrow that we reject a brother who is weak in faith. Or we may turn our welcome of a fault-finding person into a settling of doubtful questions and speculative reasonings. The Holy Spirit would have us avoid both extremes with care.
So if agreement on side issues is not the test, what is?
If a soul is weak in the faith this way, that is no reason at all to dispute with him. Let us instead see where a man's heart is toward the Person of the Lord: the rest is of no real consequence. As he gains experience and learns more of the blessed Word of God, much that is unnecessary will drop off. The subject in Romans is not reception to the breaking of bread, though the truth here certainly bears on it. "Receiving" is showing fellowship as one Christian to another. Nothing looks worse than arguing over points of no importance when Christians meet face to face.
- Weak, not wayward — he is careful about ritual matters like days and foods, not loose about sin. The question is ritual, never moral.
- Weak in grasp, not in mind — his problem is a small hold on the truth of God, so teaching, not arguing, is the remedy.
- Received on faith alone — we welcome him because he believes, whatever the measure of that faith. Babies and grown men both belong.
- Welcome without conditions — welcoming him does not approve his opinions. It gives no one the right to overrule his conscience.
- Two ditches, one road — refusing him is too narrow. Cross-examining him goes too far. The road between: see where his heart stands toward Christ, and leave the rest to grow.
One man is assured that he may eat all things; but the weak eats herbs.
Paul turns to two believers at one table who hold opposite convictions about food. He calls one of them "weak," yet never tells him to change his diet — so what do believers owe each other when their consciences differ?
The word "weak" here is often misapplied to someone loose about sin.
By "him who is weak in the faith," Paul does not mean someone who would trifle with sin. People often apply the phrase that way — to drunkenness and the like. He means a believer who, from prejudices left over from the law, was strict about days, meats, and similar things. The question is about ritual, not morals.
The believers in Rome came from two very different backgrounds. Each one carried its own temptation.
It was difficult for a Jew to rid himself of the sense of difference between days and between meats. A Gentile, having abandoned his whole religious system as idolatrous, held to nothing. Here human nature can sin on both sides — a lack of conscience, an unbridled will, and a ceremonial conscience. Christianity recognises neither of these things. It delivers us from the question of days and meats by making us heavenly with Christ. But it teaches us to bear with conscientious weakness, and to be conscientious ourselves. Conscience cannot, and has no right to, prescribe some new thing to us as a duty. But through ignorance it may hold on to a traditional thing as binding.
Being right does not make you safe. Each of these two men has his own way of going wrong about the other.
No doubt the one who believed he could eat all things thought far more rightly than the one who made a point of eating vegetables. Still, such prejudices, or their absence, gave no ground for making little of the weak or for judging the strong. There was a double danger. The one who knew his liberty might despise the man with scruples. The man with scruples might judge the free man harshly. But such weakness is no more foolish than such strength is careless — just as God's love is always holy and always free.
The chapter never settles the menu. It works on something else instead.
Paul's main question is not "Who is right?" or even "What is right?" It is this: "How can we deal with our brothers and sisters in a Christian and Christ-honouring way?" For the strong brother, that raises a further question. Will he use his Christian liberty, and how? When would it be better to give it up? For the weak brother, it raises the question of whether he should judge others by his own conscience.
Welcoming someone does not mean you take on his convictions. It also does not give you a licence to work on him until he drops them.
So do not shun the weak in the faith; receive them. Still, no one should use that welcome as a way to settle mere questions. The one who is received must not think that this welcome takes in his particular views about meats or days. And when you receive someone who has a conscience about these things, do not use the moment to interfere with his convictions before the Lord.
Neither man earned his place by his diet. So neither may use his diet against the other.
The strong are to receive the weak in the faith, and the weak are to receive the strong. Both alike are debtors to grace. This principle shows us how very tender we should be with the scruples of a fellow believer. It also shows how very slow we should be to judge someone who allows himself more liberty than we allow ourselves.
We owe patience to a person's private conscience. We do not owe it to a rule pressed on everyone else.
A person may have faith about certain things, and perfect liberty in his own mind — about days, or foods, or many other minor things. But his faith or his liberty should not lead him to act in a way that stumbles his weak brother. This is the spirit and teaching of this whole beautiful chapter. Of course, someone might try to force a yoke on the necks of the disciples — eating only vegetables, keeping away from meats, or observing days. Then it would be our place to resist with uncompromising decision.
- Weak, not wayward. The difference here is about ritual, not morals — days and foods, never drunkenness or sin.
- Weak, and right to be careful. You cannot overrule a conscience shaped by an old background. Christianity teaches us to bear with weak consciences — and to be conscientious ourselves.
- Weak and strong both stumble. One is tempted to despise, the other to judge. Weakness is not folly, and strength is not carelessness.
- Weak, yet received. Both stand as debtors to grace. So the welcome never depends on the plate, and never comes with terms.
- Weak consciences, not weak rules. We owe patience to a brother's private scruple. But when someone forces that scruple on everyone as a yoke, we resist it.
Let not him that eats make little of him that eats not; and let not him that eats not judge him that eats for God has received him.
Paul is writing to believers who disagreed about food. One man ate freely, another kept to vegetables — and each had a distinct way of wronging the other.
The verse names two faults, not one, and each belongs to a different man:
When we judge things differently, our first natural impulse is to start interfering with one another. The one who eats will despise the one who does not eat. Such scruples look narrow-minded in the extreme to him. The one who does not eat will judge and condemn the eater. He can see that freedom only as licence taken without any right.
Paul does not settle the argument by naming a winner. One view is better informed, yet neither man may correct the other:
No doubt the man who believed he could eat anything was far more right in his thinking than the man who ate only vegetables. Still, such prejudices, or the lack of them, gave no ground for making little of the weak or for judging the strong. There was a double danger of fault. The man who knew his liberty might despise the careful man, and the careful man might judge the free. But that weakness is no more folly than that strength is looseness, just as divine love is always holy while always free. God has received the believer. This is said with emphasis about the man whom the weak judged to be taking too much licence.
Weakness here is not sin and not unbelief. It is a limited grasp of what belonging to Christ already secures:
Those weak in the faith did not have the complete knowledge of their position in Christ, though they knew Christ and loved Him. They did not realise that certain observances of days, or abstinences from meats and drinks, could not affect their salvation in any way. There were scruples and conscientious difficulties, as there still are among God's people.
The difficulty is conscience, not rebellion. One writer draws the line between a man who is mistaken and a man who is corrupt:
An ignorant conscience is a very different thing from a defiled conscience... But the case is very different for the man who holds impressions that may be quite mistaken, far from what fuller light would produce. He still walks with pure intent under those impressions, as under a yoke God has placed on his neck.
Paul ends the dispute by pointing away from both men to God. God did not receive either man because of his diet:
The Apostle instructs us that in such matters there is to be mutual forbearance. For this he gives three reasons. First, God has received both the weak and the strong. His reception of us did not depend upon our eating, or not eating, certain foods. Secondly, in such matters we stand or fall to our own Master, and we are not to judge another man's servants. Thirdly, the Lord is able to sustain us and make us stand, even if in such matters we are weak in the faith.
Reception runs both ways, and it rests on the same ground for each man:
The strong is to receive the weak in the faith, and the weak is to receive the strong, because both alike are debtors to grace. This principle shows how very tender we should be with the scruples of a fellow believer. It also shows how very slow we should be to judge someone who takes more liberty than we allow ourselves.
The problem is not the position either man holds. It is the office each one claims over the other:
The thing that is really unwarranted is not the apparent narrow vision of the one, nor the apparent wide licence of the other. It is taking up the work of a judge, which belongs to the great Master of us all alone.
Commentators warn against stretching this verse beyond food and days. It is not a permission to believe anything we like:
We must remember, of course, that the Apostle is not raising any question about doctrine here. He is not speaking of the faith. We are not free to believe what we like. A faith has been revealed and committed to us. If a question arises about truth or doctrine, revelation is the only appeal.
The freedom also collapses the moment one side tries to make its scruple binding on everyone:
Of course, someone might try to force the eating of vegetables, the avoiding of meat, or the keeping of days on the necks of the disciples as a yoke. Then it would be our place to resist without compromise.
- Received first. God received both men, and His welcome never rested on what they ate.
- Received differently. One is weak: he has not yet grasped his position in Christ. The other is strong. Yet that strength is no more a merit than that weakness is a folly.
- Received mutually. Both are debtors to grace. So the strong receives the careful man, and the careful man receives the free.
- Received by a Master. To despise or to condemn is to take a seat that belongs to the Master alone. Each servant stands or falls before Him.
- Received, not unlimited. This covers scruples, not doctrine. It ends where anyone tries to bind his scruple on another's neck.
Who art *thou* that judgest the servant of another? to his own master he stands or falls. And he shall be made to stand; for the Lord is able to make him stand.
Paul is writing to believers in Rome who disagreed over food and sacred days. Each side had begun to look down on the other. Into that quarrel he puts a question that takes the case out of human hands: the person you criticise belongs to someone else.
The word Paul uses for "servant" here comes from the life of a household:
oiketes, "household servant." Luke 16:13; Acts 10:7; Rom. 14:4; 1 Peter 2:18.
So the objection is not that either side had the wrong opinion. It is that both had taken up a role that was never theirs:
"Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another?" asks the Apostle. What a fitting question! The thing that is truly out of order is neither the seeming narrowness of the one nor the seeming looseness of the other. It is taking up the judge's role, which belongs to the great Master of us all alone. To that Master we stand or fall, and we can count on His support, as the last part of the verse says, to our encouragement.
Stepping into that place is not simply rude to the brother. It reaches past him:
In the first place, conscience decides what is right and what is wrong, as far as it goes, and a man acts at his own peril. Note this too. A man may get light from God's revelation, but God is and will be the final judge, and the conscience must regard Him so. Conscience answers to God directly. No one can step in between the conscience and God so as to destroy God's right. The apostle asks, "Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls." To come in between God and the conscience is not to touch man's rights, but God's.
Read with the verse before it, this one supplies a chain of arguments:
The Apostle instructs us that, in such matters, there is to be mutual forbearance. For this he gives three reasons. First, God has received both, the weak and the strong. His reception of us did not depend upon our eating, or not eating, certain meats. Second, in such matters we stand or fall to our own Master, and we are not to judge another man's servants. Third, the Lord is able to hold us up and make us stand, even if in such matters we are weak in the faith.
The last clause is not a throwaway. Critics tend to predict where a brother's freedom will end up, and Paul answers the prediction directly:
He adds a lovely word, no doubt in answer to many a bitter guess about where their liberty would end: "And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand." For the strong have no strength of their own, but grace will hold them up. Would we want it any other way, if we could? Do we not delight that all is from Him?
Paul lived by this himself. Apollos would not fall in with his wish, and Paul let it rest:
He might have insisted that, as the apostle of the Gentiles, Apollos should bow to his wish. Instead, he accepts that Apollos had a will in the matter. Apollos was responsible to the Lord, not to Paul, for where he went in His service. Here we learn a lesson: one servant of the Lord should not try to force his will on another servant, but should leave each one to act before the Lord.
Commentators warn against stretching the verse. It covers personal scruples, not forcing them on others:
A man may have faith about certain things and perfect liberty in his own mind, whether about days or foods or many other minor things. But his faith or his liberty should not lead him to act in a way that trips up his weak brother. This is the spirit and teaching of this whole beautiful chapter, this lovely summary of Christian morals. Of course, if anyone tried to force the eating of herbs, abstinence from meats or the keeping of days on the disciples as a yoke, it would be our place to resist without compromise.
- Received — the argument starts where God started. He received both the strong and the weak, and food was never the condition.
- Owned — the word is "household servant." He belongs to another home, and his own Master settles whether he stands or falls.
- Trespass — pushing in between a conscience and God does not injure a man's rights; it injures God's.
- Upheld — the sentence ends in grace, not in warning. The strong have no strength of their own, and the Lord is able to hold up the weak.
- Limit — leave liberty free, but never turn it into a yoke. When anyone presses his scruples on others as law, resist it.
One man esteems day more than day; another esteems every day [alike]. Let each be fully persuaded in his own mind.
Paul turns from big doctrine to a small argument about the calendar: some believers kept certain days as special, while others treated every day the same. The real question is not who was right, but why God left the matter open — and how believers should treat each other when they disagree.
This concern had a history. Jewish believers had grown up in a system where God Himself had set certain days apart.
It is easy to see where keeping special days came from: Judaism. God had set those days up in that system of things — but only as pictures of better things to come, and not as having any spiritual value in themselves. Yet if some believers still held on, to some degree, to keeping those days because their conscience required it of them, no one should make an issue of it. And they must not be allowed to demand it of others.
Commentators are careful to say what this verse does not cover. They put the first day of the week on settled ground:
It is worth seeing that the Apostle is not speaking about the Lord's day. Keeping the first day of the week as the Lord's day has the backing of Scripture. It is not left as an open matter (see John 20:19; Acts 20:7; 1 Corinthians 16:2; Revelation 1:10).
The freedom in this verse is not freedom to do as you like. It comes from belonging to one Master.
In matters like these — personal behaviour and service to the Lord done from conscience — Christ's higher lordship sets us free from the rule of fellow believers. We may be right or wrong in our judgment. What matters most is that each of us, with a single eye for our Master, does what we believe pleases Him. The instruction that hangs on this is, "Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind."
If Scripture had given a plain command, no one would need persuading. God leaves some questions open on purpose, and that puts each believer alone before Him.
God means each of us to face such matters before Him, each one for himself. If Scripture gave a clear command, there would be no need for that exercise. Then simple obedience is the only course that pleases God. But how many other matters there are! Should I go here or there? Should I take part in this or that? May I enjoy this pleasure or not? … What bitter and harmful arguments have raged around such questions! And the answer is so simple. Stop the quarrelling! Hands off each other! Let each man go to his own knees, in the presence of his own Master, so that he may learn, as far as he is able, what his Master wants.
Two people cannot both be right about the same day. But both can act out of loyalty, and God weighs that.
The Lord has one mind, so it cannot point in two opposite directions. Yet whether they acted or held back, loyalty to the Lord guided both of them, as far as they understood His mind. That pleased Him, and it counted for more than getting the point right.
This tolerance has a boundary. In Galatians the same practice gets a very different answer, because there people kept days in order to gain blessing.
They were keeping days and months and seasons and years, as if an outward ritual could secure blessing — a ritual that even an unconverted person could carry out, whether Jew or pagan. It is true that in his letter to the Romans the Apostle urges believers who are not Jews to bear with a Jewish believer who still holds on to keeping special days and refusing certain foods. But here he shows that if such a believer goes back to the system of keeping certain days and ceremonies, he returns not only to Judaism but to pagan idol worship.
The standard is personal conviction. So pushing someone into your practice does him real harm.
To press my faith on someone else would all but destroy his own exercise of faith. If I stand before God, then let every believer stand before God too… The one who doubts is condemned if he eats, because he does not eat with the full freedom of personal faith. If we really care about a fellow believer, we will do all we can to see him act only in faith.
- Persuaded, not pressured — where Scripture gives no command, God wants each believer settled in his own mind before Him, not pushed there by someone else.
- Persuaded about what — open questions like food and special days. The Lord's day is not one of them; Scripture settles that.
- Persuaded before whom — one Master sets you free from a fellow believer's judgment. Keep a single eye on what pleases Him.
- Persuaded together — two believers can act in opposite ways and both be loyal. God counts that loyalty for more than being right.
- Persuaded, or harmed — press your freedom on a doubting believer and you rob him of his own faith. Patience ends only where days are taught as a system you must keep.
He that regards the day, regards it to [the] Lord. And he that eats, eats to [the] Lord, for he gives God thanks; and he that does not eat, [it is] to [the] Lord he does not eat, and gives God thanks.
Some believers ate meat; others would not. Some kept special days; others kept none. The verse settles the dispute without saying who was right. Its repeated phrase — "in honor of the Lord" — points past the practice to the Lord Himself. Both sides end up giving thanks to God.
Both sides act toward the same Lord. So the call is not to match each other, but to bear with each other. That also leaves the door open to learn more later.
In such matters believers must bear with each other. They all agree in doing what they do to the Lord, even though they differ in judging what to do. This leaves room for growth in knowledge as the word of God opens to our faith, while their conscience is still respected.
Two people who act in opposite ways cannot both read the Lord's mind correctly. Yet the verse commends both. So something other than being right counts here.
The verse shows that the one who regards the day, or who eats, does so to the Lord. The one who does not regard the day, or does not eat, holds back to the Lord just the same. The mind of the Lord is one, and it cannot lie in two opposite directions. But whether they acted or did not act, loyalty to the Lord governed both, as far as each understood His mind. This pleased Him, and it counted for more than being correct in understanding.
The verse gives one visible sign that a choice points to the Lord: the person can thank God for it. This test works either way.
If a man feels that the Lord's authority calls him to keep other days carefully, let him not ignore his conscience. Let every man be fully sure in his own mind about the Lord's authority over him. Let him gladly seek to own that authority in practice. Whether he eats or refrains from eating, let it be with a heart that can freely give God thanks.
This chapter does not permit anything and everything. The subject is narrow, and the "weak" believer is not the careless one.
Keep this carefully in mind. What the Holy Spirit lays down here does not refer to matters of moral good or evil, nor to doctrine or revelation. It refers to questions that grew out of the remains of Jewish feeling. In other words, "the weak" brother loved Christ and hated sin no less truly than "the strong." The weak were not lax, but the opposite: they were extremely and painfully careful, and so they worried about eating meat or keeping a day.
The verse leaves the choice of days open, so it matters which days are meant. One day is not part of the discussion.
It is well to see that the Apostle is not speaking of the Lord's day. Scripture itself sanctions keeping the first day of the week as the Lord's day. It is not left as an open matter. (See John 20:19; Acts 20:7; 1 Corinthians 16:2; Revelation 1:10.)
The first people in view had grown up with Jewish observances. The same thing happens whenever believers come in with a conscience about forms they grew up with.
There are many even Gentiles in our own day who are in a very similar position. They grew up with forms and ceremonies, and their conscience tells them to keep them. We are to bear with these saints, and remember they keep the day as to the Lord. We sometimes hear very bitter things said against those who keep Christmas day… But many dear children of God value this day above other days. They do it not in the spirit of Galatians 4, but in the spirit of Romans 14.
Because both sides act for the Lord, neither one should judge the other. But there is a limit. Bearing with a private conscience is one thing; teaching it as a rule for everyone is another.
The weak regard the day for the Lord's sake; the others do not regard it because of the Lord. This is the reason for not judging. The one I judge is the Lord's… But this principle can be turned the other way, when people use such observances to destroy liberty in Christ. For that, see Galatians 4. There the apostle shows that if someone teaches the observance as a principle, it is really turning back to paganism.
- Aim — The keeper and the non-keeper act toward the same Lord. The verse names the aim, not the action.
- Loyalty — Two opposite practices cannot both match His mind. Yet loyalty, as far as each one understands Him, pleases Him more than being right.
- Thanks — Both sides give God thanks. That is the sign the choice was aimed at Him: if you cannot thank Him for it, do not do it.
- Scope — The subject is worries over food and days, not morals or doctrine. The "weak" here love Christ and hate sin. They are over-careful, not careless.
- Limit — Bearing with others covers a private conscience. When someone teaches an observance as a rule for all, Galatians 4 applies instead.
For none of us lives to himself, and none dies to himself.
Paul is writing to believers who disagree about food and holy days. He answers with a principle that reaches into every part of life: no one's living, and no one's dying, is a private matter. If both belong to the Lord, who has the right to judge a fellow servant? And what changes in daily life when self is no longer the centre?
The verse is not a general saying dropped into the chapter. It is Paul's reason for dropping the habit of judging other believers over disputed matters.
No one lives to himself, and no one dies to himself; we are the Lord's. The weak keep the special day for the Lord's sake; the others do not keep it, and that too is for the Lord. So this is the reason for not judging. He whom I judge is the Lord's.
To live "to" something is to make it the aim of your life. One writer asks how we judged everything before we came to God.
God has brought us to Himself. Before we were converted we did live to ourselves, and we could not have done anything else. Sin ruled us, so "self" was the great aim and object of our life. How did we judge everything back then? Like this: Does it please me? Does it suit my taste? Do I like that? Will it advance my interests even a little?
The old aim is not replaced by a rule but by a Person. The same writer says this is why Christ died for us.
Our Saviour died for us so that we might be turned right away from the old kind of life and find a life with a completely new Object and Aim. We no longer live to ourselves, but to Him who died and rose again... How wonderful to be set free from self and centred on Him!
Why can no one claim his life as his own? Because it was bought. One writer warns that Christian fellowship goes wrong wherever this is forgotten.
The seventh verse states in short the ruling principle and guiding rule of proper Christian life. Fellowship and life shared together can never truly come from the Spirit of God where this principle is forgotten or blurred... He lives because he is the Lord's, not his own. Living, therefore, or dying, he is the Lord's — His own, at the paid price of His most precious blood.
Both the one who keeps the day and the one who does not may be acting for the Lord. So who has the right to judge?
The truth is that we belong to Him, not to ourselves, either in life or in death. Living or dying, it is to Him. Either way we are His. This rests on His own dying and living again in resurrection — the great teaching of this letter and the foundation of Christianity. So He is Lord of all, dead and living. And so we must be careful about meddling with His rights.
The second half of the verse speaks to those who mourn. Death does not end the Lord's ownership of His people.
What comforting words these are for people who have been redeemed by the precious blood of Christ and can say, "We are the Lord's." Death will not carry us beyond His reach. He will still be our Lord, for He is Lord of both the dead and the living. Here is comfort for those who mourn their dead. They have passed beyond your sight, but not beyond His. They are no longer in your care, but He keeps them safe.
If my life is not my own, it is not lived alone either. Every believer affects the rest, whether he means to or not.
There is no such thing as a person without influence. The simplest believer is either a link that helps bind the Body closer to its Head, or something that weakens that tie. As the word of God says, "None of us lives to himself." We are the Lord's, and in that sense we belong to His people too... every day and every hour we live is simply a chance to bind God's people closer to Him, or to push them further apart.
- Bought — the believer is not his own. He belongs to the Lord, bought at the price of His blood.
- Centred — self was once the aim of everything we did. Christ's death gives us a new Object to live for.
- Restrained — the believer I judge belongs to the same Lord. Judging him meddles with rights that are His.
- Held — this ownership reaches past the grave. Death cannot carry a believer beyond the Lord's keeping, and that comforts those who mourn.
- Connected — no Christian is without influence. Each hour either draws other believers closer to God or pushes them apart.
For both if we should live, [it is] to the Lord we live; and if we should die, [it is] to the Lord we die both if we should live then, and if we should die, we are the Lord's.
Believers were judging one another over their differences, and this verse answers them: a Christian belongs to the Lord in life and in death. That ownership does two things: it silences our judging, and it takes away the fear of death.
The dispute was real. This verse goes underneath it and names who both sides belong to.
The truth is that we belong to Him, not to ourselves, either in life or in death. Living or dying, it is to Him. Whether one or the other, we are His. This rests on His dying and living — that is, in resurrection — the great doctrine of this letter and the basis of Christianity. So He is Lord of all, dead and living. That is why we must beware of interfering with His rights. "Why do you judge your brother? or why do you despise your brother?" We are forgetting our place and His when we turn either to the right or to the left.
This judging is not just unkind. It is a trespass on rights that belong to another Master.
What cannot be justified is neither the apparent narrowness of the one nor the apparent looseness of the other. It is taking up the role of judge — and that role belongs to no one but the great Master of us all. To that Master we stand or fall, and indeed we may count on His support.
The words "we are the Lord's" state ownership. That ownership had a price.
The principle is a simple one. It has its root in the very ground-truth of Christian doctrine. In God's judgment the cross has ended the believer's mortal life. It now leaves him no other life but Christ Himself. To Him, then, he lives, for in Him he lives. He lives (verse 8) because he is the Lord's, not his own. Living, therefore, or dying, he is the Lord's — His own, at the paid price of His most precious blood.
Verse 8 does not stand alone; the next verse supplies the reason Christ can claim both states. Writers link the two closely.
He is absolutely supreme. In His supremacy He claims our submission, and He claims it because of His love. So He lays it on our heart to do everything as to Him. Doing this will not only draw us closer to Himself, but also closer to one another.
But does this ownership only cover people who believe?
For in living or in dying, man is no independent creature, answerable only to himself. This principle applies most of all to the believer. He is the one who acknowledges the Lordship of Christ… Yet this Lordship is not only over believers. He is Lord of all.
The same ownership covers dying. So the verse speaks to grief as much as to disputes.
What comforting words these are for those whom the precious blood of Christ has redeemed! They can cry, "We are the Lord's." Death will not carry us beyond His reach. He will be our Lord still, for He is the Lord of both the dead and the living. And here is comfort for those who mourn their dead. They have passed beyond your sight, but not beyond His. They are no longer in your care, but He has them in His safe keeping… Death cannot rob Him of us. It cannot separate us from Him, or from the love of God that is in Him.
But holding this truth is not the same as living it.
It is a blessing to have right motives, and a right understanding of what conduct suits us. It is far more blessed to have carried out in practice what we see suits us as disciples… Does this not present a certainty of conduct, a steadiness of purpose, and a fulfilled desire, very unlike the Christianity common in our own day? … practical obedience is what the Lord looks for. Right motives and a right understanding of what to do have no value except as means to an end.
- Bought — The believer is the Lord's "at the paid price of His most precious blood." Ownership, not preference, grounds everything here.
- Both states — The claim covers living and dying alike. Christ died and rose to be Lord of the dead and the living.
- Hands off — A fellow believer belongs to Christ. To judge him is to interfere with rights that are not ours.
- Safe — Death does not carry the believer beyond His reach. Those who have died are still in His keeping.
- Obeyed — The truth is for practice. Right understanding counts only when it turns into obedience.
For to this [end] Christ has died and lived [again], that he might rule over both dead and living.
Paul has just said that believers belong to the Lord, living or dying. This verse gives the reason. Everything rests on two events: a death and a return to life. Together they won Christ a title — authority over both sides of the grave.
The phrase "to this end" points forward. It names an aim Christ set out to reach by dying. One writer notes that this aim goes well past the saving of His own people.
Here we are told of a purpose in the death of Christ. That purpose includes the special truth of the Church's redemption, but it goes far beyond it. Christ died to establish His dominion over the dead. The cross transferred the keys of death and Hades to the hands of Jesus. Through death He destroyed the one who had the power of death, that is, the devil. The final resurrection will prove it. Those who had no part in the first resurrection will come out at the voice of the Son of Man. They will bear unwilling witness to the glory of His power as Lord of the dead (Revelation 20:12).
How did He gain this right over the dead?
So far He alone has truly tasted death in its full reality, as the penalty of human sin. By the grace of God, He has tasted death. He died, and now the furthest chambers of the grave are under His hand. He will unlock them in due time by the word of His power. Christ died, then, to establish His right of dominion over the dead. By dying, He has made death His own for ever.
The lordship named here is not limited to those who accept it. One writer ties it to the place God has given Jesus since the cross. (An older translation reads "Christ both died, and rose, and revived." The title it gives Him is the same.)
He now holds the place of universal authority. The risen, ascended, glorified Man Christ Jesus is the Head of all rule and power. He has absolute lordship over every human being, living or dead. He died for all. He sent the gospel to all. He was patient with all. Now He is at God's right hand as "Lord of all." God set Him there, and set Him there justly.
For anyone grieving, His lordship over the dead stops being a doctrine and becomes comfort. Death changes who can see them, not who holds them.
Death will not carry us beyond His reach. He will be our Lord still, for He is the Lord of both the dead and the living. And here is comfort for those who mourn for their dead. They have passed beyond your sight, but not beyond His. They are no longer in your care, but He keeps them safe. They are still in His kingdom and under His Lordship, just as you are.
The argument between believers ends when you ask who owns whom. The answer is not the one doing the judging.
The truth is that we belong to Him, not to ourselves, either in life or in death. Living or dying, it is to Him. Either way, we are His. This rests on His dying and living again in resurrection — the great doctrine of this letter and the basis of Christianity. So He is Lord of all, dead and living. This is why one must beware of meddling with His rights.
That ownership has a daily effect. It decides whose opinion binds a believer's conscience.
In matters of personal behaviour and conscientious service to the Lord, Christ frees us from the lordship of our fellow believers by placing us under His own higher lordship. We may be right or wrong in our judgment. What matters most is that each of us, looking only to our Master, does what we believe pleases Him.
That authority is not cold. One writer notes that Christ claims this place because of His love. Doing everything to Him draws believers closer to Him and closer to one another (The Christian's Friend).
- Cause. Christ's death and return to life did more than rescue us. They won Him a title — rule over the dead and the living.
- Conquest. By dying He took death as His own possession, and the keys of death passed into His hands.
- Reach. That lordship covers every person, believer or not, since God set the risen Man at His right hand as Lord of all.
- Comfort. Death cannot move anyone out of His kingdom; those who have died are still under His Lordship and in His keeping.
- Result. We are His, not each other's. So we stop judging and despising one another. One Master rules each conscience, and He rules in love.
But thou, why judgest thou thy brother? or again, thou, why dost thou make little of thy brother? for we shall all be placed before the judgment-seat of God.
Paul has been writing to believers who disagree over food and holy days. He now asks each side a blunt question, and answers both by pointing ahead to God's judgment seat.
The verse names two wrongs, one for each kind of believer:
When differences of judgment arise, our first natural impulse is to start interfering with one another. The one who eats will despise the one who does not eat. Such scruples look extremely narrow-minded to him. The one who does not eat will judge and condemn the eater. He can only see that freedom as going beyond what is allowed.
Both reactions are wrong because neither believer belongs to the other. Both belong to the Lord, who died and rose to be Lord of the dead and the living.
The truth is that we belong to Him, not to ourselves, either in life or in death... So He is Lord of all, dead and living. So one must beware of meddling with His rights. "Why do you pass judgment on your brother? Or you, why do you despise your brother?" We are forgetting our place and His when we turn either to the right or to the left.
Some Bibles read "judgment seat of Christ" here. Others read "judgment seat of God." The difference comes from the manuscripts:
The best editions read in Romans 14:10, "judgment seat of God."
Either way, the two are not rivals. The next verse backs the warning with words from Isaiah. Notice who first spoke them:
When the prophet Isaiah refers to this period, he says, "I am God, and there is no other. By myself I have sworn; from my mouth has gone out in righteousness a word that shall not return: To me every knee shall bow, every tongue shall swear allegiance." But when an apostle brings it before us, he applies it to Christ. That is another example of Scripture's teaching on the deity of the Son.
So what is this seat for?
This is not a question of being brought into judgment for sins, or for sin. That was settled earlier in this letter... What then is meant here? Simply the question in hand. All of us will be placed before God, and He cannot make a mistake about what He approves. That should be a healthy check, preventing the damaging habit of judging one another.
If it is not a trial, what is it? One writer describes a scene where our own acts and God's grace are both laid open:
I believe our whole record of acts will be laid out there, before the judgment seat. It will not be laid out for us as if we were in the flesh, and so to our condemnation. It will be laid out to make clear to our own eyes the grace that occupied itself with us... The why and the how we did this or that will be made clear then. For us the scene will be declarative, not judicial... You will see how you gave way and how He preserved you, how your foot slipped and how He lifted you up again.
How wide is that "all"? One writer answers:
Romans 14:10 says that all will stand before the judgment seat of Christ. Who are all? Everyone, saved or unsaved, in the world. It does not say that all will stand there at the same time, or for the same purpose. For believers, everlasting life is settled for eternity. Rewards will be settled at the judgment seat of Christ.
Whichever reading you take, Paul's point stands. Each of us will stand before that seat in person.
- One day — Paul settles a quarrel over food by pointing ahead to God's judgment seat. That thought is a healthy check on judging one another.
- Two accused — Two questions, two culprits. The strict believer judges; the free believer despises. Both are told to stop.
- Not yours — Judge a fellow Christian and you are handling someone else's servant. Christ died and rose to be Lord of you both.
- One seat — God's seat or Christ's, it is the same seat. Isaiah puts those words in God's mouth, and Paul applies them to Christ.
- Declarative — For the believer, that day settles rewards, not guilt. Your whole story is opened beside the grace that carried you through it.
For it is written, *I* live, saith [the] Lord, that to me shall bow every knee, and every tongue shall confess to God.
Paul is settling a dispute between believers over food and holy days, and he ends it with an oath from God Himself. Whose knees are meant, and what has that to do with two Christians arguing over dinner?
Paul wants believers to stop judging one another. The words from Isaiah back up the line just before them about the judgment seat. They turn each person's attention to his own account.
"For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of God." To this end Isaiah 45:24 is cited… "So then each of us shall give account concerning himself to God." How out of place for one to judge and another to despise! We shall each give an account, and this about ourselves and no one else.
The words come from Isaiah. They are not a prediction but a decree, sworn by God — and the New Testament shows how far it reaches.
Then comes the solemn declaration, backed by a divine oath, "That to me every knee shall bow, every tongue shall swear" — that is, Jehovah, the Creator-God, has decreed it… Two explanations are added that we could never have found unless God gave them. The first is that "every knee" applies to all in heaven, to all on earth, and to all under the earth. That means all intelligent beings, whether in heaven, on earth, or in hell — all demons, as well as all angels, saints, and men. Second, "every tongue shall swear" means confessing, to the glory of God the Father, that Jesus is Lord.
In Isaiah these are the Lord's own words. Paul quotes them where he speaks of the judgment seat.
But when an apostle brings it before us, he applies it to Christ, giving another example of Scripture's teaching on the deity of the Son.
One writer states why the Son receives this honour:
Jehovah has sworn that every knee shall bow to Him, and that every tongue will give account of himself to God. But it is at the name of Jesus that every knee shall bow. So although the Son gives life to whom He will, as the Father does, the Father judges no one. He has committed all judgment to the Son, so that all may honour the Son as they honour Him.
The bowing is certain. Only the manner is still open.
The faithful, we know, will confess Him Saviour and Lord with loud and joyful praise… But the fallen angels, with the lost of every name and age, are "under the earth," in the regions of sorrow. They too must confess that "Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Yes, dear reader, willingly or unwillingly, your knee must bow with the rest, and your tongue must confess. How terrible to be forced under the rod of judgment, to confess the glories of the Saviour in whom you have no share.
And this bowing must be real, not a gesture:
To bow to Him now brings blessing for evermore. But this bowing to Christ must not be merely an outward profession; there must be a bowing of the heart. Lip profession only is hypocrisy, and hypocrisy is hateful to God.
Giving account is not the same as being condemned. Everything turns on whether a person has a Saviour to confess.
The believer does not come into judgment, but will be manifested there and give account. When those who do not believe give account, it is judgment for them, and so condemnation. They confess no Saviour, so they can no longer hide their sins… The believer does not need judgment to vindicate Jesus. The unbeliever does, because he refuses His grace.
The same judgment seat appears twice in Scripture, and each time for a different purpose:
I am not aware that this expression, "the judgment seat of God" or "the judgment seat of Christ," is found anywhere except in Romans 14 and 2 Corinthians 5. It appears in the first passage to prevent individual judgments, and in the second to stir us up to do good.
There, being right is not the whole story:
He may have been mistaken in his thoughts, and we may have been right. Yet he may receive more approval than we do. He honestly sought to obey the Lord — sought to keep a good conscience — while we in effect trampled on his conscience.
- Sworn. The verse is God's own oath, quoted from Isaiah — not a forecast, but a decree.
- Universal. That oath reaches every intelligent being in heaven, on earth, and under the earth — angels, saints, men, and demons alike.
- Christ's. Paul gives Jesus the honour Isaiah gives to Jehovah. The Father has committed all judgment to the Son, so that all honour the Son as they honour the Father.
- Now or then. Every knee bows. Bow today from the heart, not the lips only — or bow under judgment, with no Saviour to confess.
- So, stop judging. Each of us gives account for himself alone. So leave your brother's conscience to God.
So then each of us shall give an account concerning himself to God.
The words "so then" tie this verse to the argument before it: believers were judging and despising one another over food and holy days. Paul does not settle the menu. He points every reader to a coming hour where each answers for one person only — himself.
The same scene appears in two of Paul's letters, and one writer notes that each mention has its own purpose.
I am not aware that the expression "the judgment seat of God" or "the judgment seat of Christ" is found anywhere except in Romans 14 and 2 Corinthians 5. In the first it is used to prevent individual judgments. In the second it is used to stir us up to do good... We read in Romans 14 that "each of us will give an account of himself to God." Here Scripture names the judgment seat alongside the call to believers not to judge one another over days, food, or anything of that kind.
The weight of the verse rests on one small word. Each person gives account of himself.
In that solemn hour, "each of us will give an account of himself to God" (verse 12)... Each will give account of himself, and not of another. Our responsibility is direct and personal, solitary and alone. On this rests the exhortation, "Therefore let us not pass judgment on one another any longer, but rather decide never to put a stumbling block or hindrance in the way of a brother" (verse 13).
Being right in a disagreement is not the same as being approved. One writer applies the verse to the person doing the correcting.
We are clearly not to judge or belittle our brother in these personal matters of conscience. For we will stand before the judgment seat of Christ, and so will he. He may have been mistaken in his thoughts, and we may have been right. Even so, he may receive more approval than we do. He honestly sought to obey the Lord and to keep a good conscience, while we in effect trampled on his conscience. A solemn thought for our souls!
Giving account is not the same as being condemned. One writer shows where the line falls.
How out of place for one to judge and for another to despise! We shall each give account, and this about ourselves and no one else... The believer does not come into judgment, but will be fully revealed there and give account. When those who do not believe give account, it is judgment for them, and so condemnation. They confess no Saviour, so they can no longer hide their sins.
The account covers more than what other people could see.
The gospel gives abundant testimony to the solemn fact that all men must have to do with God... It is not only the open acts, which men might be able to take account of. The hidden motives from which the actions spring must all be brought to light too, for "all things are naked and exposed to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account" (Heb. 4:13).
For the believer, that hour brings gain, not loss.
What immense gain it will be to us to be fully revealed! We will know as we are known... It will greatly increase and deepen the Christian's appreciation of what God has been for him. He will see more of His patient, perfect grace and purpose of love. It is a solemn thing, but of immense worth and value to us. It is all worked out in the conscience, as we learn from Romans 14:12. Notice the true effect on a right state of mind: no thought of judgment about righteousness has any place at all.
- Purpose — Paul raises the judgment seat here for one reason: to stop believers judging each other over food and days.
- Himself — Each one answers for himself, not for another. Responsibility is direct, personal and alone. So stop judging, and clear stumbling blocks out of your brother's way instead.
- Conscience — Being right is not the same as being approved. The honest but mistaken brother may receive more approval than the man who trampled his conscience.
- Account — For the believer this hour reveals, it does not condemn. For the one who confesses no Saviour, giving account is itself judgment, because he can hide his sins no longer.
- Everything — Hidden motives come to light, not just visible acts. The hour is solemn, yet it will deepen the believer's sense of what God has been to him.
Let us no longer therefore judge one another; but judge ye this rather, not to put a stumbling-block or a fall-trap before his brother.
Paul has been dealing with believers who disagreed about food and holy days. He has just pointed them to a judgment still to come. Verse 13 now turns the word "judge" around: the Christian is to judge his own conduct, not his brother's.
The first half of the verse closes a door. One writer compares our verdicts with the judgment still to come:
The instruction that rests on this comes in verse 13, and it has two parts — the negative and the positive. The negative side is this: "Therefore let us not pass judgment on one another any longer." There is no need to. Our judgments are at best partial and imperfect. His judgment, which is still to come, is complete and perfect.
Neither side of the dispute is exempt. The two groups fail in different ways, yet both need the same settled decision:
This principle is as true for the strong as for the weak. The weak were more likely to judge, and the strong to look down on others. But both must settle this in their own minds, if they do not want to become a cause of stumbling or offence, whether in what they do or in what they think.
The verse names two things, and they are not the same picture. The first is simply an obstacle left lying where someone walks:
Anything put in another person's way that he might trip over and fall. The law forbade it, and such things had to be taken out of Israel's path. Lev. 19:14; Isa. 57:14… In the church, everyone should take care to do nothing that might make another person stumble. Rom. 14:13; 1 Cor. 8:9.
The second word is sharper. It is the word for a trap:
The Greek word skandalon means a trap or a pit, into which animals are drawn by bait. But this word is used in many passages where "snare" would not work as the translation.
The second half of the verse does not end judgment — it redirects it. A different motive now drives it:
So far, the Apostle has shown us that plain duty would keep us from interfering with one another about food and holy days. Now he shows another motive that would keep us from judging one another in such matters: we are to walk according to love (15). Moved by love for our brother, we should be careful not to put any stumbling block in his way.
A person can claim to answer to the Lord alone and still not care about the people around him:
Someone can boast that he is subject to the Lord while showing no real concern for the blessing of God's people. This is a hollow sham. If anyone says he loves God, let him love his brother also.
The practical outcome is that liberty is real but not unlimited. What settles the question is not what I am entitled to do, but what my doing it will do to someone else:
In such a case I must keep my hands off you. I must not drag you before my judgment seat and demand that you agree with my thoughts. In other matters you may be the weak brother and I the strong. Then I must be careful again, in case I look down on you and insist on going my own way… I may be sure that the thing in question is the will of the Lord, and something I would normally do. But if doing it here would harm you, then it is the will of the Lord that I hold back.
My brother's path is part of my own responsibility. One thing keeps me from blocking it:
He has to make straight paths for those who are off the road (Heb. 12:13). He is to watch his own way with care, in case a careless use of his liberty makes him a hindrance in his brother's path without his knowing it… Meanwhile there is only one way to avoid causing someone to stumble. Love for one's brothers, if it is real, is a sure safeguard against giving offence (1 John 2:10).
- Stop judging. Your brother's case belongs in a better court. Our judgment is partial; His is complete.
- Start judging. The same word comes back, now aimed at yourself. Judge whether your freedom leaves obstacles where your brother walks.
- Two dangers. A stumbling block is an obstacle left in the path. The second word means a baited trap. The harm can be careless or deliberate.
- Both sides. The weak judge and the strong look down on others. This verse calls both to the same resolve.
- Love decides. Duty keeps you out of your brother's business. Love keeps you out of his way. To claim you serve the Lord while ignoring his welfare is a hollow sham.
I know, and am persuaded in the Lord Jesus, that nothing is unclean of itself; except to him who reckons anything to be unclean, to that man [it is] unclean.
Paul states his own conviction: no food carries defilement in itself. Yet the same verse gives the weaker believer's own judgment real weight. What he counts unclean is unclean for him, and the strong cannot overrule it.
Paul does not offer this as a private opinion. He is persuaded "in the Lord Jesus." But being clear about the truth does not settle how a strong believer should treat a weaker one.
The question here is not really about food, which never profited those who lived by such rules. It is a good thing for the heart to be established by grace. The Lord Jesus is also the truth, and He has put everything in the light of God. But we must respect conscience, and the strong must be careful not to weaken or wound another's conscience, whatever his own conviction may be.
Why did he not simply settle the dispute and move on?
He was clear about the Lord's mind, but he would not insist on it at first. He cared more that the affections should be right than that he should lay down an accurate judgment. In truth, only this way can anyone reach soundness in settling every question. Wrong feelings falsify the judgment.
The clean-and-unclean food laws were not woven into creation from the start. One writer traces the whole statement back to Noah, before Israel existed.
These distinctions were not made in Noah's day — see Genesis 9:2-3. This fact, we believe, lies behind Paul's statement that "nothing is unclean in itself" (Rom. 14:14); and again, "all things are lawful for me" (1 Cor. 10:23). In Noah's day all men were in view. In Moses' day only Israel was in view. These special laws had two aims: to impress the holiness of God on the people, and to help keep them distinct and separate from the nations.
If defilement is not in the food, the question is where it does sit. The answer given is that a taught soul can tell the difference between the thing and the person handling it.
As far as God's creation goes, a soul taught by God can see that these things have no moral evil in them. The evil is of course in the heart of man, who corrupts these things. But if a Christian lacks the discernment Paul had, then whatever he regards as unclean is unclean to him. If he indulges in it, he cannot help defiling his conscience.
The second half of the verse is not about the object at all, but about the effect on the one acting. Going against your own light damages you, even when your light is dim.
This shows how important it is to act in line with the light you have. The question here is not the Lord's will in itself, but the effect on your own conscience. If I believe a certain thing is unclean or wrong and still indulge in it, my conscience is defiled. It is unclean to me, whatever it may be in the Lord's estimation.
Scripture itself sets this up, so conscience is not being raised above the Bible here.
The word is, of course, the test of truth. But in certain cases the word itself makes the conscience or judgment of the believer the rule of conduct (Rom. 14:14). This gives individual conscience or private persuasion a high authority.
So pressure is dangerous. Talk a man into an act he still doubts, and you do him harm.
Paul was fully persuaded that no meat in itself was unclean. But if eating meat gave a brother a bad conscience, it would become an occasion of defilement to him. So we must be careful not to use our liberty to persuade a brother to do something his conscience is against. We are persuading him to act beyond his faith. As far as the effect of our act goes, we are leading him to violate his conscience and so drive him from Christ.
Knowing which side is right is not Paul's first concern.
Paul's primary question is not "Who is right?" or even "What is right?", but: "How can we deal with our brothers and sisters in a Christian and Christ-honouring way?"
This patience has a limit. Bearing with a brother's scruple is one thing; letting anyone make that scruple a rule for all is another.
Suppose someone tried to force the eating of herbs, abstinence from meats, or the keeping of days as a yoke on the necks of the disciples. Then it would be our place to resist without compromise.
- Clean. Nothing in God's creation is defiling in itself. The food laws marked out Israel for a time; they were not there from the beginning.
- Corrupted. Where evil exists it is in the heart of man who spoils these things, not in the thing he handles.
- Conscience. A believer's own persuasion becomes his rule. Act against it and you defile yourself, whatever the thing may be in the Lord's estimation.
- Care. Since that is so, arguing a brother into acting beyond his faith wounds him and can drive him from Christ.
- Christ. Paul's leading question is not who is right, but how to treat a brother in a way that honours the Lord. Even then, no scruple may be made binding on all.
For if on account of meat thy brother is grieved, thou walkest no longer according to love. Destroy not him with thy meat for whom Christ has died.
The word translated grieved is not about hurt feelings over a difference of taste. It describes what happens inside a believer who is pushed to act against what he believes is right.
Paul was fully persuaded that no meat in itself was unclean. But if eating meat would give a brother a bad conscience, it would become a cause of defilement to him. So we are to be careful not to use our liberty in trying to persuade a brother to do something he has a conscience about. We are persuading him to act beyond his faith. As far as our act goes, we are leading him to violate his conscience and so drive him from Christ.
The freedom Paul defends earlier in the chapter is real, and he never withdraws it. But a believer holds that freedom in his own heart. Among others, love governs how he uses it.
A Christian always holds this sense of liberty firmly in his heart. But where he is with others, the mightier principle of love is to temper it in practice. He is not to think of himself, but to have regard to the state and needs of those he is with, or before whom he walks.
The same action can be right in one setting and wrong in another. The difference is the brother standing next to you.
I may be convinced that the thing in question is the will of the Lord, and one I would usually do. But if, in these circumstances, doing it would damage you, then the will of the Lord is that I refrain from doing it.
This is the strongest word in the verse, and commentators handle it carefully. One writer stresses that the ruin is what our action tends toward, not something we can achieve.
The importance of this principle cannot be overestimated. The apostle does not mean that we can bring about the destruction of a brother. He means that, as far as we are concerned, we act by asserting our liberty in a way that would tend to damage him eternally.
Another writer draws the line more sharply still.
Do not for a moment suppose that the words "do not destroy" can mean the destruction of eternal life. Scripture cannot contradict itself. If it appears to, then clearly we have not got the true sense of at least one of the texts. If the eternal life we have in Christ could be destroyed, then it would not be eternal.
Yet the warning still stands. Another writer refuses to let the reader stop at what the word rules out:
How terrible it is that we can destroy, or cause to perish, our brother. Do not say, This does not mean this or that; think of what it does mean, rather than the opposite. Surely it means at least this much: a wasted life that might have been fragrant with Christ. A missing of the mark God desired for him. A grieving of the heart of the Christ who died for him.
Paul does not argue from the weak believer's merits. He names the price Christ paid for him, and that price settles how you treat him.
Christ died so that he might be your brother, and that you might be his brother. How are you treating him — as a brother, or as a criminal? He may be weak in the faith, and ignorant of much knowledge that has made you proud; he may be anything you care to call him, but Christ died for him. He could not have done more for him than that. What value the Lord has set on him! To die for him!
One writer weighs what Christ gave up against what we refuse to give up.
"By what you eat, do not destroy the one for whom Christ died." The attitude of disregard for a brother's conscience is the very principle of destroying him. But Christ died for him! — what a contrast. He sacrificed His life to save him from destruction. Shall we sacrifice nothing for the blessing of the saints of God?
- Grieved — the issue is a brother's conscience, not his taste. Push him past his own faith and you lead him to violate himself.
- Love — liberty is real, and a believer holds it firmly in his heart. Among others, love tempers it. A weaker brother nearby can make it the Lord's will that you refrain.
- Cost — the brother's worth is measured by the death of Christ; Christ could have done no more for him than He did.
- Contrast — Christ sacrificed His life to save that man from ruin. Will we not sacrifice a meal for him?
- Restraint — "destroy" never means lost eternal life. What is at stake is a wounded conscience, a wasted life, and grief to the Christ who died for him.
Let not then your good be evil spoken of;
Paul is writing to Christians who disagree about what they may eat and drink. Here he warns the ones who are right: they can use their freedom in a way that gives it a bad name.
The "good" here is the freedom Christians already enjoy. The danger is that their own use of it creates the scandal.
So the liberty of Christianity is something we may rightly enjoy. Yet it may become an occasion for stumbling others, and so be spoken of as evil.
Freedom is real, but love has the higher claim on the one who holds it.
Besides, love demands that we should respect our brother. The more right a man is, the more he can afford to be gracious. "So do not let what you regard as good be spoken of as evil. For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Whoever thus serves Christ is acceptable to God and approved by men." We have been called to liberty, but true liberty proceeds by love.
There is a specific way the good turns evil: by talking a brother into an act his own faith cannot support. What looks like setting him free wounds him.
Paul was fully persuaded that no meat in itself was unclean. But if eating meat would give a brother a bad conscience, it would become an occasion of defilement to him. So we are to be careful not to use our liberty in trying to persuade a brother to do something he has a conscience about. We are persuading him to act beyond his faith. As far as our act goes, we are leading him to violate his conscience and so drive him from Christ.
There is a reason these disputes are worth losing.
The apostle insists that the kingdom of God cannot be lowered to what perishes with the using. It is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit, the inward spirit and practical power of the Christian. "Whoever thus serves Christ is acceptable to God and approved by men." In short, this is walking in the Spirit, the true guard against fulfilling any desire of the flesh.
This kingdom is not only something to wait for.
The Christian lives now in advance of the day when God's kingdom will be set up publicly under Christ. So he is personally a righteous man, a peaceful man, and a happy man, because the Holy Spirit brings him under God's rule even now.
This freedom is a privilege, and privilege brings obligation.
It is a great favour to enjoy the liberty of Christ in the smallest matters of everyday life. But whoever has entered into this is all the more bound to consider the believer who is still held back by doubts.
Paul does not cancel freedom. He changes where you use it.
"Are we then never to exercise our undoubted liberty?" Yes, says the apostle. If you have faith — faith to use it — keep it to yourself before God. Use it in private, but not in public, when using it might make a weak brother stumble.
So one question is not enough.
In the light of this we must ask ourselves not only "Have I liberty to do this thing?" We must also ask, "Is it wise for me to claim and use my liberty in this case?"
This safeguard runs both ways, because each believer stands before God alone.
Each of us shall give account of himself to God, not of his brother. So let us always keep a good conscience before Him, and allow others to do the same. Then our good will not be spoken of as evil. We should not knowingly offend a weak brother.
- The good — the thing to guard is your own freedom in Christ. It is real, but you do not prove it by using it.
- The good misused — press a brother to act beyond his faith and you defile the conscience you meant to free.
- The good surrendered — being right is what gives you room to be gracious. True liberty moves by love.
- The good relocated — keep your freedom between yourself and God. Ask not only "May I?" but "Is it wise here?"
- The good approved — the kingdom of God is righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Serve Christ there and you are acceptable to God and approved by men.
for the kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness, and peace, and joy in [the] Holy Spirit.
Believers in Rome were quarrelling over food and drink. Paul settles it by telling them what God's kingdom is made of, and it is not the thing they were arguing about.
The kingdom is bigger than the plate in front of you. One writer shows where it does show itself: in daily conduct that keeps the flesh in check.
The apostle insists that the kingdom of God cannot sink to the level of things that perish as they are used. It is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. It is the inward spirit and practical power of the Christian. "Whoever thus serves Christ is acceptable to God and approved by men." In short, it is walking in the Spirit, and that is the true guard against fulfilling any lust of the flesh.
What replaces the food rules? One writer points to conduct that pleases God:
Judaism had much to say about what people should eat and should not eat. But Christianity is not occupied with rules that command and forbid. It consists of what is moral, of what pleases God in the lives of His own. We are to show what is right in the eyes of God. Peace is to mark every step we take. Our joy is to come from the Holy Spirit, who lets us enter into what is found in Jesus.
Paul lists the three in an order. One writer shows why each one has to come before the next:
Righteousness is, and ever must be, the only basis of peace. That is true for the individual soul and for God's government… God declared His righteousness in the blood of Christ. In it He laid the unchangeable basis of peace for ever. Then, once we have peace and enjoy it, joy in the Holy Spirit springs up. It fills the soul and overflows without end in praise and adoration.
What does this righteousness look like on a normal day? One writer answers in terms of what we owe — to God, to Christ, and to the people around us:
Righteousness is not so much about my demanding what is due to me. It is about my paying to all others what is due to them. We must give God all that is His due, and give Christ the place that is His. Then we must practise everyday righteousness with all our neighbours, both saved and unsaved. Peace and joy in the Holy Spirit are then the practical outcome. Righteousness is the foundation on which they rest.
These same three marks will one day cover the whole earth. One writer describes that day, and then brings it home:
One day Christ will come as God's King over the whole earth. Then the kingdom of God will be on open display, with three great marks which everybody can recognise. (1) It will be a righteous rule, and all wrongs will be put right… (2) There will be peace. The nations will not learn war any more… (3) There will be joy. The ransomed will return with songs to Zion, everlasting joy will be upon their heads, and every sound of sorrow will fall silent… But the Holy Spirit dwelling in you sets up the rule of God in your heart, and the Christian shows these three marks now.
Why do believers fight over small things? One writer points to the state of the soul:
It is so easy to slip into outward religion and lose sight of the state of our souls. We can even grow zealous for Christian liberty while our souls dry up for lack of divine nourishment. The truth is this: if we cultivate the enjoyment of righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit, our hearts will overflow with love to our brothers and sisters. Then we will act by instinct, with proper regard for their weakness.
- Not on the plate — The kingdom of God is too great to sink to the level of food and drink, which perish as they are used.
- Righteousness first — God laid its foundation in the blood of Christ. It shows itself when you pay people what you owe them, not when you demand your own rights.
- Then peace — Peace is the fruit of righteousness, never the root. Give God and your neighbour their due, and peace follows.
- Then joy — Joy is not manufactured; it comes from the Holy Spirit dwelling in the believer.
- Now and then — One day the world will see this rule under Christ. The Christian is meant to show it today, and a soul enjoying these three gives way to a weaker believer without being asked.
For he that in this serves the Christ [is] acceptable to God and approved of men.
Paul has just said God's kingdom is not food and drink but righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. This verse draws the practical conclusion: give up a liberty for a weaker brother, and you are serving Christ.
The word behind "acceptable" means well-pleasing. It describes what pleases God:
The word euarestos ('well-pleasing', from eu, 'well', and aresko, 'to please') means 'acceptable' to God in Romans 14:18, 'agreeable' to the Lord in Ephesians 5:10, and 'well-pleasing' to Him in Colossians 3:20. These passages show that the old rendering of 2 Corinthians 5:9, "we may be accepted of him", is wrong: it should be "agreeable to him".
So the question is not whether God will receive you. It is whether your conduct pleases Him.
Some render the phrase "in this" rather than "in these things" — the singular pointing back to the kingdom as righteousness, peace and joy. Either way the service is not in the food or the abstaining, but in the spirit behind it:
The apostle insists that the kingdom of God cannot be lowered to things that perish as we use them. It is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit, the inward spirit and practical power of the Christian. "Whoever thus serves Christ is acceptable to God and approved by men." In short, it is walking in the Spirit, the true guard against fulfilling any craving of the flesh.
Convictions can leave a man a slave to himself, or bind him to Christ:
This is truly serving Christ. It is a poor thing to be mere slaves of our convictions. True convictions should make us bondservants of Christ. If in these things it is really Him we are serving, we shall be acceptable to God and approved of men — not of course all men, but all right-minded men.
The freedom itself stays. The believer keeps it and spends it on Christ's glory:
Here is a man who is free in his inmost soul, yet a bondservant to Christ — the apostle uses the strongest term. He will not let the freedom he really has make him forget that he is bound in every way to use that freedom to glorify Christ. This man is "well pleasing to God and approved of men."
God and men reach the same verdict, and it cuts both ways:
Both the "weak" and the "strong" should pursue these qualities. These things are acceptable to God and approved by men. If I force my liberty on another and it offends his weak conscience, God and man condemn it.
The verse also turns inward. Zeal on its own proves nothing:
Verse 18 searches the individual heart, yet also comforts it. It is well for a Christian to ask himself often how and in what things he is serving Christ. Otherwise, zeal may sometimes injure rather than profit. Nothing is either pleasing to God or profitable to men, which is not done in the power of this kingdom of God.
Caring for a weak conscience is one thing. Letting others add terms to the gospel is another:
This will lead us to do nothing, in eating meat or drinking wine, that would make a brother stumble. But it must not lead us to compromise the gospel… Suppose a group of men said: Christ alone is not enough to deliver a sinner and save him completely; you must take a pledge with us not to drink wine. To compromise the gospel like that would not be of faith, or love, or edification… If Christ has not the first place, something else soon will have. Satan always seeks to use what is good to displace Christ.
- Serve. Give up a lawful liberty for a brother, and God counts it as service to Christ. The apostle's word for such a man is bondservant.
- In this. The service is not in the food or the drink. It is in righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit — walking in the Spirit, the real guard against the flesh.
- Pleasing. "Acceptable" means well-pleasing. It describes what you do, not whether God will receive you.
- Approved. God and right-minded people reach the same verdict. It works in reverse too: force your liberty on a weak conscience, and both condemn it.
- Searching. Ask often how and in what you are serving Christ. Zeal outside this kingdom can injure rather than help. But never yield so far that you give up the gospel.
So then let us pursue the things which tend to peace, and things whereby one shall build up another.
Romans 14 deals with believers who disagree over food and holy days. By verse 19 Paul turns from what we must stop doing to what we must start chasing: peace, and building one another up. Neither one arrives by drifting.
One writer looks at the other places where Scripture tells us to go after peace, and shows what the word behind "pursue" means:
Peace is not only the absence of war, quarrels or disagreements. It is also a result of the presence of God in the life of man… Yet peace among men, and among believers, also depends on the state of our hearts and on our conduct. So we are very often urged to follow peace, or to strive after it (Rom. 14:19; 2 Tim. 2:22; Heb. 12:14; 1 Peter 3:11). In the Greek text the same word is used every time, and it means "to chase, run, follow". Ephesians 4:3 also tells us that we need diligence and zeal to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. If these exhortations were not necessary, God would not have had them written in His Word.
The second half of the verse uses a building word. One dictionary traces where else it appears:
The word comes from a Greek verb meaning "to build, to build up". Scripture uses the same word for the building of the Temple at Jerusalem (John 2:20), and the Lord used it when He said He would build His assembly (Matt. 16:18)… A building grows and gets stronger. In the same way the Spirit builds up the body of Christ by His ministry through the word, until all come "to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ" (Eph. 4:13).
That turns the verse into a test of direction. Every act among believers either adds to the structure or takes something out of it:
Because we are brothers, we are to pursue the things that make for peace and build others up. We are to be keen to build up, not to knock down. We are to aim at peace not at strife. If tempted to transgress, let us ask ourselves Moses' question, "Men, you are brothers. Why do you wrong each other?"
The peace in view is not a truce reached by pretending differences do not exist. One writer ties it back to the cross and then shows what it produces:
We are not to have political compromise. That is not the principle in the Bible at all. True peace in the Bible is always based upon righteousness. The Lord Jesus Christ died to establish righteousness, and the effect of that is peace… Where there is discord among the saints of God, there is no building up and no progress — only sleepless nights and endless talking. But when there is peace and quiet… then there is building up. There is strengthening instead of scattering or tearing down.
The chase costs something, and the strong believer usually pays most:
So our attitude is not just the negative one of giving up our liberties at times, to avoid friction and discord and to avoid harming weaker believers. It is also the positive one of eagerly pursuing all that makes for peace and building up. Acting this way will call for some self-denial. There will be times, especially for the "strong" believer, when he has to hold his faith privately before God, and hold back from showing it in what he does before others, as verse 22 suggests.
There is a line, though, between surrendering a privilege and surrendering the truth:
This is certainly not a matter of giving up truth. Truth is not ours to sell at any price. It is a trust given to us by our Master, and we must be faithful to Him in it. But personal privileges I may, and indeed should, give up for the sake of others… If the saints of God insist on their own rights, will they be at peace? Will they build one another up?
Naming what destroys peace makes the pursuit practical:
Remember that self-will is the great enemy of peace. In a gathering of believers, one or two people insisting on their own way often causes a great deal of quarrelling and trouble. One says, "I know what should be done. I have learned it for myself. I know it is true. It must be done. I feel responsible to the Lord to see it is done, and it shall be done." This may be self-delusion, but it is certainly self-will.
- Chase — the word means to chase, run, follow. Peace depends on our hearts and our conduct, so it never arrives by drifting.
- Yield — the chase costs self-denial. The strong may have to hold a conviction privately before God instead of showing it.
- Guard — we may lay down personal privileges for others, but never the truth. It is a trust from our Master.
- Root — real peace rests on righteousness, not on compromise.
- Build — where there is peace there is building up; where there is discord there is only talk and no progress.
For the sake of meat do not destroy the work of God. All things indeed [are] pure; but [it is] evil to that man who eats while stumbling [in doing so].
Paul sets a meal beside the work God has done in another believer, and warns against trading the greater for the lesser. Two questions follow: what is "the work of God" here, and how far can one Christian really "destroy" another?
Food is only one example of the lesser thing.
So the Apostle adds, "Do not, for the sake of food, destroy the work of God"; and surely we may say, not only for food but also for days, and for a good many other things besides. The work of God is by far the greater thing. Let us not destroy the greater thing to establish some lesser detail. Sad to say, the church's history is full of it.
The harm does not come through the food itself. It comes through a conscience that gets pushed past what it can hold.
To try to persuade a weak brother to do something that may give him a bad conscience tends to destroy the work of God in his soul. It also makes you a cause of stumbling to him. It is better not to eat meat and not to drink wine, if by doing so we offend and damage our brother.
The word is strong. Writers here are careful to say what it does and does not mean.
It is impossible, as we all know, to "destroy" a child of God, for none can pluck even the feeblest out of His hands. On our side, however, our conduct may do its best to destroy a saint. We might even succeed, if it were not for the grace of God that guards and sustains us, the fruit of His faithful and unchanging love. So when the apostle says, "Do not, for the sake of food, destroy the work of God," he speaks of what others have called "the bearing of the act." The tendency of our action is to make our weak brother perish — one for whom Christ died.
God keeps His own for ever. Yet our conduct can still wreck a believer's daily life for years.
The case in view is a Gentile Christian, strong in spirit and free from prejudice, flaunting his liberty in front of his Jewish brother. That brother is still strong about the law, but weak in the faith of the Gospel. As a result the weak brother is tempted into doing things he later reproaches himself for. He may settle under a spiritual cloud until his dying day.
The verse agrees that everything is clean, then takes that away as an excuse. Freedom is real, but where you use it matters.
"Are we then never to exercise our undoubted liberty?" Yes, says the apostle. If you have faith to use it, have it to yourself before God. Use it in private, not in public, where it might stumble a weak brother. Even in private it must be before God, and so the apostle adds a caution. "Blessed is the one who has no reason to pass judgment on himself for what he approves." Be sure it is Christian liberty, used before God in faith. Whatever is not of faith is sin. Even liberty can sink into licence and self-indulgence. It will, whenever we stop using our conscience and stop acting in faith under the eye of God.
Writers point to the relationship each believer has with the Lord, and to love as the deciding rule.
No one lives to himself, and no one dies to himself; we are the Lord's… So I should seek to please my brother and build him up — he is the Lord's. And I should receive him, as I have been received, to share in the glory of God given to him… As to the energy of a man's faith, let him have it between himself and God. Love is the ruler for the use of his liberty.
The principle stretches well beyond food. One careless person can spoil a lifetime of God's work in others.
Such a "sinner" can quickly and easily ruin or spoil the lifetime's labour of some devoted man of God… Oh, let me not be the "sinner" who destroys "the work of God" (Rom. 14:20).
- Weigh. Food, days and similar details are the lesser thing; the work of God in a person is by far the greater. Never trade the greater for the lesser.
- Wound. The damage travels through conscience. Push someone to act past their faith and you tend to destroy God's work in their soul.
- Wreck. No one can pluck a sheep of Christ from His hand. Yet the bearing of our act is destructive: we can wreck a brother's daily life and leave him under a cloud for years.
- Withhold. Everything is clean, so the question is not "may I?" but "where?" Hold your liberty before God in private. Do not parade it.
- Wield. Love, not knowledge, is the ruler for liberty; your brother belongs to the Lord, so please him for his building up.
[It is] right not to eat meat, nor drink wine, nor [do anything] in which thy brother stumbles, or is offended, or is weak.
Paul closes his argument about food and drink with a costly rule: a lawful thing can be given up for a brother's sake. Two questions follow — what makes going without "good" when the thing itself is fine, and whether this bans meat and wine for good.
Paul has already settled one fact about food. A second fact limits how a believer uses that freedom in front of others.
He lays it down in the firmest way possible. He knows and is persuaded by the Lord Jesus that nothing is unclean in itself... Still, "it is unclean for anyone who thinks it unclean." So if such a brother ate what he thought was unclean, he would have a bad conscience before God. We must keep this in mind. If the "strong" eat in front of the weak brother what he regards as unclean, they put a stumbling block, or an occasion to fall, in his way.
The word "good" does double duty here.
Such "creatures of God" are "good" in themselves, as 1 Timothy 4:4 teaches us. Yet it is also good to quietly leave them alone, rather than encourage a brother to eat against his conscience. This consideration is only the normal grace of Christianity.
The thing risked is small. What it does to the other man is not. One writer traces the damage past the meal and into the rest of that man's life.
Take the lightest thing imaginable: we eat only meat that he thinks is unclean. Even that may lead him into something he has no faith for. How could love do this? It is a terrible thing to lead a person to act without conscience — that is, to sin against God. If he does not judge himself, it is bound to shape the whole character of his life and ways.
Even when the strong believer is right, pressing the point is the wrong tool. It also delays what he wants most.
Pressing our own convictions is neither the divine nor the human way to convince. It is not the human way, because will only provokes will, and it puts off the end we most desire. It is not the divine way, because it is not the way of faith — not on our part, and not on the part of those we hurry. How much better to walk in faith and leave God room to act! He can and will give power to His own grace and truth.
Giving way is my own choice. The moment someone demands it, the case changes.
Of course, someone might try to force the eating of herbs, the avoiding of meats, or the keeping of days as a yoke on the necks of the disciples. Then it would be our place to resist with uncompromising decision.
Why so firm? Because a rule, once added to Christ as a condition, takes the place that belongs to Him alone.
Suppose a group of men said: Christ alone is not enough to deliver a sinner and save him completely, so you must take a pledge with us not to drink wine. That would not be of faith, or love, or edification. It would compromise the gospel. Like the teachers who added law-keeping, it would soon draw people away from Christ. If Christ does not have first place, something else soon will.
Commentators differ on how far this verse reaches into the wider argument about drink. One writer insists the weak brother of Romans 14 is not the man with a drinking problem.
At Rome, the dispute did not grow out of Gentile idolatry. It grew out of the religious scruples of the Jewish converts, who on certain days would not share in meats and drinks... 1 Corinthians 5 proves beyond dispute that a drunkard is a wicked person for the Church to put away, not a weak brother to bear with. Romans 14 describes a completely different group — not false believers with a loose, unholy walk, but real Christians who had only weakly grasped their deliverance from questions about clean and unclean food.
Another writer keeps the personal application open, while refusing any general ban.
The warning is against the "abuse." And if it is a snare to any of us, we clearly ought to avoid it. "Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." What greater safeguard can there be than this?
- Free — Nothing is unclean in itself; meat and wine are God's creatures, good and not to be refused.
- Weak — But whatever a believer thinks unclean is unclean to him. Eating it would give him a bad conscience before God.
- Good — So it is good to leave the lawful thing alone, rather than push him to act against his conscience. That is ordinary Christian grace, not heroism.
- Guarded — Giving way is my choice, never another's demand. If anyone lays it on me as a yoke, or adds it to Christ as a pledge, I must resist outright.
- Aim — Love wins him by leaving God room to work. Pressing convictions only provokes the will it means to change.
Hast *thou* faith? have [it] to thyself before God. Blessed [is] he who does not judge himself in what he allows.
Paul has been dealing with disagreements over food and holy days. Here he turns to the believer who is sure of his liberty. The verse sets two limits. Keep it before God. And keep a clear conscience about what you allow yourself.
The word "faith" here is not the faith that saves. One writer treats the verse as a test that sorts real liberty from a false one:
Verse 22 gives us a decisive test. It always tells genuine spiritual liberty apart from its counterfeit, the self-will of the flesh. "Have you faith? Have it to yourself before God." Some people carelessly assume a privilege because they know the doctrine of liberty. That is quite a different thing from faith. The faith spoken of here is a fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22). It is not the faith in Christ that justifies. It is a fruit that grows in practice out of the justified believer's personal communion with the Lord. This faith is a home joy of the soul. It stays within, choosing the privacy of the presence it loves best. Faith like this seeks no audience and makes no boast of privilege. You find it in its effects. Those effects are always according to God, and so they bring blessing to others.
The words "between yourself and God" do not cancel your liberty. They decide where you use it:
"Are we then never to use our undoubted liberty?" Yes, says the apostle. If you have faith, faith to use it, keep it to yourself before God. Use it in private, but not in public, when using it might stumble a weak brother.
There is a second reason to keep it private. Pushing my convictions on someone else costs him something:
"Have you faith? Have it to yourself before God." Faith must be an intensely personal thing. To press my faith on another would in effect do away with his exercise of faith. If I am before God, then let each individual saint be also before God.
The second half of the verse is a caution. To be before God is to stand in the light, where every claim of liberty faces a test:
The presence of God is the only place where faith can really act. But God is light. In that light we must weigh everything before allowing it under the claim of liberty. Conscience becomes, as it were, the regulator of faith. Otherwise mere self-will might easily take the place of genuine faith toward God. And so it is added: "Happy is he who does not condemn himself in the thing that he allows." That is a weighty sentence, full of needed caution. It tempers and steadies Christian liberty, so that liberty stays within the limits of godly fear and never sinks into mere self-pleasing and the natural licence of the fleshly will.
The blessing belongs to the person whose own conscience makes no charge about what he permits. One writer carries the thought straight into the next verse:
If you have faith, instead of doubts, so much the better, but keep it to yourself before God. Blessed is he who does not judge himself in what he allows, or approves. But he who doubts is condemned if he eats, because it is not from faith. And whatever is not from faith is sin — that is, whatever is not done in the liberty of faith.
This verse asks for tenderness toward the weaker believer. One writer adds where that tenderness stops:
Romans 14:22, with the whole context, teaches us that we must walk tenderly toward the consciences of our brothers. A man may have faith about certain things. He may have perfect liberty in his own mind, whether about days or foods or many other minor matters. But his faith or his liberty should not lead him to act in a way that stumbles his weak brother. Of course, if anyone tried to force the eating of herbs, abstinence from meats, or the keeping of days as a yoke on the necks of the disciples, it would be our place to resist without compromise.
The verse also warns the person with the stricter conscience. What binds him does not bind his brother:
Through lack of faith, I may choose to put myself under law. So let me be very careful not to condemn my brother for what he allows. It may in fact be perfectly clean in the sight of God.
- Faith, defined. This faith does not justify. It is a fruit of the Spirit, grown out of personal communion with the Lord.
- Faith, kept private. Use it before God, not on display. That spares the weak brother, and it leaves him his own exercise of faith.
- Faith, tested. In God's light, conscience keeps liberty in check. Otherwise self-will borrows the name of faith and turns freedom into self-pleasing.
- Faith, rewarded. The happy man is the one whose own heart brings no charge against what he permits; whatever is not from faith is sin.
- Faith, and the other person. Be tender with a weaker conscience. Refuse any rule forced on you as a yoke. Do not condemn a brother for what may be clean before God.
But he that doubts, if he eat, is condemned; because [it is] not of faith; but whatever [is] not of faith is sin.
Romans 14 ends a long argument about food, drink and holy days. Believers in Rome held opposite views on these things, and each side was quick to judge the other. The last verse turns the question inward. What settles right and wrong is not the food on the plate. It is whether you can act before God without a doubt in your mind.
Many read this condemnation as if the doubter's soul were at stake. One writer draws the line clearly, and shows where the real damage lands. He also warns that we can fail on either side of our faith.
Having settled in the Master's presence what we believe He would have us do, let us do it in the simplicity of faith. Only it must be faith, and not self-will. And we must not go beyond or lag behind our faith. To do this is to bring condemnation (not damnation) into our consciences, as the last two verses of the chapter tell us.
The verse does not tell a believer to drop his conviction. It tells him where to keep it, and then defines the faith it is talking about.
If you have faith, instead of doubts, so much the better. But have it to yourself before God. Blessed is he who does not judge himself in what he allows. But he who doubts is condemned if he eats, because it is not from faith. And whatever is not from faith is sin. That is, whatever is not done in liberty of faith.
Nothing changes in the food. What changes is the mind of the man eating it.
A believer's conscience suffers defilement not only when he commits deliberate sin. He also defiles it by allowing anything that in any way dishonours the name or truth of God… Doubt, present or absent in a believer's mind, makes the whole difference between bad and good when we weigh actions of this kind.
The same problem came up over meat offered to idols. One writer traces what happened to believers who ate while still unsure.
Doubting in this way, they were condemned when they ate. Satan took advantage of them through guilty fears… Scripture describes an act by where it tends. It does not soften the description by the grace that steps in to stop the outcome.
If doubt turns an act into sin, then talking a hesitant believer into copying your liberty is not kindness. It pushes him into sin.
Who can measure the results of forcing or persuading someone to act against, or beyond, the light he has from God? The Spirit grieved. The heart unsettled, if not soon hardened through the deceitfulness of sin. How many other things will surely combine with these, if there is no repentance, to drag the soul downward — "sin"! When will we honestly, fully, and in practice accept the apostle's definition: "whatever does not proceed from faith IS SIN"?
Some read the closing words as a rule that stretches over the whole of life.
"For whatever does not proceed from faith is sin." It is a solemn, sweeping statement. Sin is not only in the outward acts of men. It is in everything that faith has no part in. Shall we dare, in effect, to make our brother sin?
Commentators differ here. Another writer objects that people quote the line as a general rule, cut off from the argument Paul is making.
The common use of "whatever does not proceed from faith is sin" is a mere abuse of the text. The apostle is showing that a person may eat what would be clean to stronger faith. To the man who does not have this faith, that same act is sin. It defiles his conscience.
- Doubt — the food is not the problem. The eater is condemned because he acted while unsure. The verdict falls on his conscience, not on his salvation.
- Faith — here it means freedom before God to do the thing. Act inside that freedom and you are clear. Step outside it and the same act is sin.
- Conscience — doubt is what defiles a harmless meal, and Satan then works on the guilty fears that follow.
- Love — pushing a hesitant believer past his own faith is not generosity. It pushes him into sin.
- Limits — some read the closing words as covering all of life. Others keep them to the case Paul is settling.