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.