Romans 14.1-12

I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but modern Christians, as a group, don’t do well with nuance. Of course this isn’t a uniquely Christian problem: modern people in general don’t do well with nuance, because it blurs the lines between what is acceptable and what isn’t. Nuance makes it harder to figure out what we should do and what we shouldn’t. And the human attack on nuance has only gotten worse with the advent of social media: if a belief or opinion can’t be summarized in a meme, it’s not worth our time.

But here’s the problem: in the life of the church, nuance is absolutely crucial.

Here’s one example of why nuance is crucial, and I want to talk about this right at the beginning, because as we go through this text I know a lot of you will be thinking about it.

Have you ever heard someone say that when they spend time with Christians, they feel “judged”? Have you ever had a conversation with another Christian, in which that person disagreed with something you said or did, and you felt “judged”? The person who feels judged often feels justified in not paying any attention to what the person in front of them actually said—why? Because of course Jesus famously said, “Judge not, that you be not judged” (Matthew 7.1). Paul says the same thing in this text. So obviously (we think), if you feel judged, the other person was wrong to make you feel that way.

In my opinion, we pull out that “I feel judged” card way too often, because we rarely stop to consider what “Do not judge” actually means in the context of the text and in the context of the Bible as a whole: we almost never consider that commandment in a nuanced way.

Take a step back and think about last week’s text. At the end of Romans 13, Paul calls us to “cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light”. He calls us to “walk properly as in the daytime”—to not do in private those things we’d be ashamed to do in public. And he gives examples of what a few of these things might be: drunkenness, sexual immorality, quarreling, jealousy. There are many things God calls us to do and not to do, for our good, and those things are clearly laid out in his Word.

The church exists, in part, so that we might help one another “walk properly, as in the daytime”, that we might help one another “cast off the works of darkness.” That means that if we see someone doing something that is not in line with God’s character, we are called to talk to them about it. We’re called to do it with love, for their good, but also with clarity, showing why they shouldn’t act that way. If I find out that a brother is being neglectful toward his wife, or harsh with his children, I am called talk to him about it. Matthew 18.15: If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. Galatians 6.1: Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness.

We need to be clear about something: this is not what Jesus or Paul are referring to when they say “Do not judge.” It can’t be, because God won’t call us to do something and not do something at the same time. Going and talking to someone about their sin is not “judging” them. In the same way, expressing a disagreement with someone is the same thing as “judging” them.

Most of us have seen Jaws (and if you haven’t, you should). If you’re at the beach with a friend, and he’s in the water, and you see a shark’s fin approaching your friend, what will you do? You’ll yell, “Shark! Get out of the water!”

In that circumstance, how will your friend respond? Will he say, “How dare you judge me because I’ve decided to swim here! Who are you to tell me what to do?” Of course not—he’ll start swimming for shore as fast as he can.

Why? Because it’s obvious that you yelling “Shark!” is not a judgment of his person, but of the situation. You are pointing out a danger, and coming to your friend’s rescue.

Whenever Jesus or Paul say “Do not judge”, they’re telling us not to evaluate someone else’s merit. If I judge someone, I’m deciding that that person is less legitimate as a Christian, or less worthy than myself. It’s obvious that we mustn’t do that, because no one is worthy of God’s grace.

But all disagreements are not that kind of judgment. And judging someone’s actions (as in, observing and noting that a given action is sinful) isn’t the same thing as judging the person.

In order to understand that, we need to approach these things with nuance.

That’s why I hate social media, and I love Romans 14. This chapter is basically an extended plea for nuance in the church, particularly in the way we approach disagreements over secondary issues. It is one of the most practically helpful texts, in regards to the life of the church, in all of Scripture. So we’re going to spend two weeks in this chapter together.

If you remember, last week Joe preached on the end of Romans 13, in which Paul says (v. 8):

Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.

We like verses like that, because they sound nice. At least until someone shows up in the church who upsets the apple cart. In the life of the church, our love for one another is most frequently and violently tested when we come into disagreement with one another—often, instead of love, disagreements produce judgment: they cause us to consider someone else less legitimate or worthy a Christian than we are.

But in the life of the church, our love for one another is most frequently and violently tested when we have someone in front of us who tells us we’re wrong about something. Often, instead of love, disagreements produce judgment: they cause us to consider someone else less legitimate or worthy a Christian than we are.

That’s what we need to fight against, and that’s what Paul’s going to be addressing in this chapter. And he’s going to begin by showing us why disagreements shouldn’t break us: because all of our disagreements are ultimately before one Lord, and one Judge. And that Lord and Judge is not us, but God.

We Have the Same Lord (v. 1-4)

He begins by clearly setting the scene, establishing the context for what he’s addressing. He says (v. 1):

As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions.

There are two words in this verse that are vital to understanding what he’s talking about.

The first word is “opinions.” He’s not talking about sin, and he’s not talking about the truth of the gospel. He’s talking about what we often refer to as secondary issues.

We always have this conversation in the members’ class, but in case you haven’t gone through that yet, we need to talk about it. When I say “secondary issues,” here’s what I mean. There are some truths which are absolutely central to our faith: the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God the Son, to save us from our sins; the divinity of Christ; the doctrine of the Trinity (one God, in three persons, Father, Son and Holy Spirit). And there are more.

These are central tenets of the Christian faith; we cannot call ourselves Christians if we deny them.

But there are plenty of other issues that, while very important, we can disagree over without losing the core of the Christian faith. Then there are other issues that are less important than those. And others that are even less important. And so on.

We can disagree on a lot of things and still consider each other brothers and sisters in Christ.

And there are still other subjects that aren’t necessarily theological, but that are influenced by our theology. Should a Christian practice yoga? Listen to non-Christian music? Watch certain films? Dance? Drink alcohol?

He’s talking about opinions.

The second important word is the word “weak,” or “weak in the faith.”

The historical context is important here. He’s writing to Christians of both Jewish and Gentile origin, and while there’s nothing in Romans in indicate that there was open conflict in the church, there was certainly tension—he addressed this multiple times in the earlier chapters of the letter. But now, he gets more specific and addresses a specific subject. We don’t know if it’s an actual dispute that he heard was happening in the church in Rome, or just a hypothetical dispute, but it’s the kind of argument that, given the context in that church, would come one day if it hadn’t already, because it was so common in a mixed church like theirs.

The dispute in question is over the question of whether or not Christians needed to follow Jewish food laws in order to be acceptable to God.

He says (v. 1 again):

As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions. 2 One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables.

So he’s made the truth of the matter clear—the one who believes there are certain things he should or shouldn’t eat is “weak”—but he’s not going into why that’s the case for now. For now, as he often does, he lays out the principle before getting into specifics.

And here’s the principle: if you see a Christian who you think is weak in faith, welcome them—but not to quarrel over opinons.

Why does he need to say this? Because one of the most common things a group of people who spend a lot of time together will do is sit down and eat together—and when you get to that table, inevitably, some of you are going to eat certain things, and some of you won’t. And (at least in this context) it’s not for health reasons, or ecological reasons, but reasons of theological conviction—those who eat all different kinds of meat do so because they truly believe it’s okay, and those who don’t eat certain meats refrain because they truly believe God wants them to continue to follow Jewish food laws.

One of you is right, and one of you is wrong. So how do you love each other—how do you remain in unity with one another—in such a context?

V. 3:

3 Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him. 4 Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand.

That’s the first key: the “strong” brother shouldn’t pass judgment on the “weak” brother—he shouldn’t consider him as “less Christian” than himself. Why? Because God has welcomed you both.

Paul spent a long time earlier in the letter establishing how we are saved, and he was very clear that it is not through our obedience to God’s commandments, it’s not because we grew up with a particular ethnicity or culture; it is only because of the grace and mercy of Christ, who gave himself for us. If we have faith in Christ, if we have repented of our sin, then God has welcomed us both.

And if that’s the case, we will quickly see that we are in no position to look down on one another because of our opinions, because the brother or sister in front of you is not your servant, but God’s. It is before his own Lord, his own Master (God), that he stands or falls.

That’s a simple way of saying that eventually, our Lord will show us which opinions are wrong or right. I know some of you disagree with me on some secondary matters. That’s fine. There will come a day when I will discover whether my opinions over secondary matters are correct or not, and—here’s the important thing—on that day I won’t be standing before you all, but before God. He is my Lord, not you. He is your Lord, not me. It is before him that we stand or fall.

In either case, whether we’re right or wrong about these secondary issues, God has already “welcomed us”. And if that’s true—if he’s saved us—our opinions about these things won’t matter. We will be upheld, Paul says, because if we belong to him, he is able to make us stand. He will make sure that our opinions about secondary issues, even if they’re incorrect, will not make shipwrecks of our faith.

God is our only Lord. So every disagreement should be brought under his authority as Lord. It is before him that we stand or fall. We are not over one another as Christians, but side by side, under the same Lord.

We Have the Same Motivation  (v. 5-12)

Now already, this is argument enough: Paul’s proven his point and made a convincing case for how we should approach arguments over secondary issues in the church. He could have stopped there, and we would have reason enough to respond to one another with humility and patience in moments of disagreement.

But he’s going to go even deeper, and remind us that passing judgment on one another because of these matters should be entirely off the table, because God is our one and only Judge. V.5:

5 One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind.

So here he’s giving another example of a common disagreement that would have come up at the time. The Jews observed (and some still do observe) many yearly feasts—special days where they remember the faithfulness of God in the past, or look forward to his promises fulfilled in the future. The Gentiles wouldn’t have observed these feasts. We can find the same thing, to a much lesser degree, in Christian churches today. Some churches will stick to a very strict liturgical calendar, others won’t. Some Christians think we should only gather for worship on Sunday, while others think we can gather on any day of the week.

Paul makes no judgment here on who is wrong or right—the person who considers some days more important than others, or the person who doesn’t. Instead, he focuses on what is most important, and that is that each one should be fully convinced in his own mind.

It’s a little frightening to realize how many of our opinions form all on their own. There are opinions we just absorb, through culture or family or media; others come because of personality, or situation, or maybe even just because it’s the easiest opinion to have.

Paul says this isn’t how we should think. The Christian should think hard about what he believes, and why. Opinions must not be formed by personality, or situation, or neglect, but through a rigorous examination of the Word of God, and prayer that God would give us wisdom to apply it. Whatever opinion we land on, it should come as a result of our submitting to God and doing the work of trying to know him. Wherever we land, we should be convinced.

Of course that’s not to say our minds can’t change. But (for example) we shouldn’t institute a rule for ourselves or for our homes if we’re not convinced it’s good to do so. Maybe tomorrow we’ll learn something that will change our minds. But for today, we’re convinced of this, so this is what we will do.

There are two interesting things about what he says here. The first is that he doesn’t say that it’s a bad thing for two Christians to be fully convinced of two opposite opinions. Difference of opinion over these secondary matters, like food and festivals, isn’t a bad thing. One of us is wrong and one of us is right. Or maybe we’re both wrong. So what? Does that change who we are before our Lord?

This is going to be hard for some of you to believe, but it’s true: entertaining the possibility that we’re wrong is unbelievably freeing. It means you don’t have to defend yourself to anyone. It means you don’t have to live with this constant fear that someone will think you’re a fraud. We’re all wrong about some things, and that’s okay. As long as the main things are clear in our minds—those truths which are central to the gospel—we can be mistaken in other areas, and nothing changes. If we have been saved by faith in Jesus Christ, through the proclamation of the gospel, we can be wrong and still know that we are loved and accepted by God, united to our brothers and sisters in Christ.

It’s not a bad thing that there are sometimes disagreements over secondary issues—it would be pretty strange if there were none.

The second interesting thing Paul shows us here is that in both cases—whether you observe the feasts or you don’t—you can both have the exact same motivation for doing it. And it’s the motivation that is most important. V. 6:

6 The one who observes the day, observes it in honor of the Lord. The one who eats, eats in honor of the Lord, since he gives thanks to God, while the one who abstains, abstains in honor of the Lord and gives thanks to God.

You see, whether it’s a question of our habits or our decisions or our opinions, the same thing should motivate the follower of Christ: a desire to honor the Lord, and gratitude for his grace to us.

I have friends, brothers and sisters in Christ, who baptize their babies. I firmly disagree with this practice. This is a Baptist church; we believe that we are called to baptize Christians upon profession of faith—that is, we believe baptism should be the choice of the person getting baptized, and they should be able to understand and articulate their desire to follow Christ. Babies can’t do that.

But here’s the thing: whatever our conviction around baptism, all of us hold these convictions and remain firm in them because we want to honor God, and because we are thankful for his grace to us. That’s why I can discuss this subject with someone, but I’ll never get into a fight with them over it. It’s a matter of secondary importance. We can agree to disagree.

The point here is that we can be fully convinced of two different opinions on a secondary matter, and still have the same motivation: a desire to honor the Lord, and gratitude for his grace to us.

Now here’s the problem. I know that some of you are hearing me say all this, and your heads are about to explode. Because you love the Bible, you love theology, you love orthodoxy, and it feels to you like everything we’re talking about today just opens the door to a really dangerous mentality that says, “Believe whatever you want, as long as you have the right motivation.”

Let me reassure you; that’s not what I’m saying, because that’s not what Paul’s saying. The Bible is important. Our understanding of the Bible is important. Right doctrine is important. Right application of doctrine is important.

But this text is not talking about how we see doctrine; it’s talking about how we see people. I said earlier that in this text Paul gives an extended plea for nuance in the church; I didn’t just mean theological nuance, but relational, interpersonal nuance. It’s the nuance that allows us the Christian to see his brother or sister as a person, rather than a human repository of doctrinal ideas.

So often people who are new to the faith want to simply talk about God with other believers, but end up getting sucked into theological debates that they have no idea how to handle. And they leave those discussions feeling like their hearts have been torn out, because instead of being built up by their brother or sister, they’ve just been pretty harshly criticized for not knowing something they haven’t had time to learn yet.

Or someone who has been a Christian for a long time, but comes from a different church background, comes into the church and feels unwelcome and unwanted because they disagree on a secondary matter. (And I’m not speaking hypothetically—both of these things have happened before, in this church.)

Paul is not saying secondary issues are unimportant; he’s saying that the body of Christ is more important. We can disagree on secondary issues and still recognize that we have the same motivation for our convictions—and in v. 7-9 Paul tells us how that’s possible.

V. 7 :

7 For none of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself. 8 For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. 9 For to this end Christ died and lived again, that he might be Lord both of the dead and of the living.

Do you see his logic? Christ came, and died, and was raised in order to be shown as the Lord of all things—of the dead and the living. So ultimately, we do not belong to ourselves, but to God. Everything we do—how we live and how we die—is for him, and in life and in death, we are his. That means that everything we have, in life and in death, we have through him and in him. And our thankfulness for his grace will give us a firm desire to honor him in everything, which means we’ll desire to think hard about what he tells us in his Word, and how we believe that applies to our lives.

But at the same time, because we know that we needed his grace and forgiveness, we’ll remember that we’re fallible human beings, and there are some secondary things we may get wrong. So we’ll apply our convictions with humility, we’ll discuss our opinions with humility, because we know that we’re imperfect, and we know that God has welcomed and rules over the brother or sister in front of us, just like he welcomed us and rules over us. V. 10:

10 Why do you pass judgment on your brother? Or you, why do you despise your brother? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God; 11 for it is written,

“As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me,

and every tongue shall confess to God.”

12 So then each of us will give an account of himself to God.

Christ’s lordship over us, his grace to us, is the great equalizer: it puts us all in the same situation of knowing that all we have and all we are belongs to him, and he is the one who will ultimately judge whether our convictions over secondary matters is right or wrong. If I get to heaven, and Christ tells me that I’ve been wrong this whole time and should have baptized babies, I’ll thank him for clearing that up, and marvel once again at his grace in saving imperfect people like me. (I don’t think that will happen—like I said, I’m convinced this is the right way to go—but if it does, it’ll be okay.)

The point here is that Christ is the one Lord over all; it is he who has the authority to judge us over these matters. So I have no legitimacy or reason to despise a brother or a sister because they don’t see these secondary issues the way I do. Christ will judge these matters; it is before him that we will give an account, and he’s promised to defend us on that day, because his blood has covered our mistakes.

Conclusion

Now, what does this look like on the ground? You’re at the dinner table, and you hear someone saying something, expressing a theological opinion. How do you respond? How should the rest of that conversation go?

That’s a hard question to answer, and we’ll have to grow in this over the course of our entire lives. But let me suggest a good place to start—a new way of engaging in conversation. Instead of expression your opinion right away, ask questions. And not the sort of snarky, trick questions Christians are often so good at, but humble questions. “Why do you approach this like this? What shaped that conviction? I feel like we should do it differently, but I could be wrong, and I want to learn.”

If all of us approach these conversations with humility, then the result will always be growth and brotherly love—even if neither of us changes our minds. These conversations give us a chance to flex our theological muscles, to flex our relational muscles, to come closer to a brother or a sister instead of further away. It helps sharpen us.

Because Christ is our Lord and our Judge, we can disagree on a great number of things, and still leave those conversations knowing we are loved and united to one another. Because ultimately we don’t belong to one another, but to him—whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.