“"Of Your Own Accord"”

Sunday, October 08, 2023

Accordingly, though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do what is required, yet for love’s sake I prefer to appeal to you…

(Philemon 8-9)

There are many differences between the Law of Moses and the New Covenant with Christ.  We could consider the importance of physical lineage, or the undying connection to a rather minuscule plot of land, or the dietary restrictions, or the pattern of animal sacrifices, or the earthly place of worship; and we’d be far from exhausting our options!  But perhaps the greatest distinction between the Old and the New is less easily pinned down.  We can get a glimpse of it by considering God’s method of enforcing his instructions in each one.  “Anyone who has set aside the law of Moses dies without mercy on the evidence of two or three witnesses” (He 10.28).  This was not, of course, the penalty for every infraction, but it represents the end, or extreme, of its foundational principles.  What about “the new and living way” (v20)?  The author of Hebrews doesn’t give a straightforward answer on that, but instead poses a rhetorical question:

How much worse punishment, do you think, will be deserved by the one who has trampled underfoot the Son of God, and has profaned the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified, and has outraged the Spirit of grace?

(Hebrews 10.29)

After leaving us to contemplate the seriousness of rejecting God’s grace, he gives us a final hint, before moving on: “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God” (v31).  He’s talking about being sent to hell—an eternal punishment.

Of course, both we and the author of Hebrews recognize that death was not the end of the line for the Jews of old.  But the point is that God didn’t tell them much about what lay beyond the grave; their system was centered on their perception of the physical realm.  Despite living in the same physical world, we are entrusted with much more information, enabling us to look beyond and see glimpses of its spiritual  underpinnings. 

This shift, from a physical outlook to a spiritual one, is among the major distinctions between the Old and New ways; but as it pertains to our eternal destiny, whether each one of us will rest in God’s house forever, or be banished to the outer darkness, the difference is less obvious.  Moses and Elijah faced the same options as we do.  And yet, while this physical life continues, God uses a very different tactic to effect our obedience to his will, today.

Many—in fact, most, of God’s basic, moral expectations of us are unchanged from those of the ancient Israelites, not to mention their Gentile neighbors.  But for his chosen, special people, God instituted a system that would enforce his rules ruthlessly, punishing many infractions by death, and requiring the governing authorities to enforce the rest, with the implicit threat of violence standing back in the shadows, as an offense might escalate from a property dispute between neighbors, to open rebellion against the powers instituted by God.  The idea was that, if you have the threat of death looming over you at every moment, you’ll behave.  It seems like it would work, but it really didn’t.  The best that one could hope, under the Law of Moses, was to avoid being convicted of a grave sin and executed.  And yet, despite the bar being set so low, transgressions abounded.  Even if the rate of conviction was low, most sins deserving swift and harsh punishment went unnoticed or ignored.

In contrast to this, Jesus introduced a different set of assumptions.  The best you can hope to do, having been freed from the yoke of sin, is to go above and beyond any reasonable expectation.  “And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles” (Mt 5.41).  This idea is revolutionary, but we often fail to grasp its full extent.  Jesus is not merely replacing one unreasonable requirement with another.  The Romans graciously granted themselves the privilege of compelling their conquered subjects to drop whatever petty and meaningless tasks occupied them—like gathering food for their hungry families, for instance—and press them into service, albeit briefly, to carry any burden required, up to a distance of one mile.  This was legal, inasmuch as the rulers decreed it; but the question whether it was just is entirely different.  It’s easy to imagine how anyone thus drafted into service would resent the Roman oppressors, and only grudgingly obey.  Rather than giving hatred a home in your heart, Jesus says, instead, to volunteer additional service in such circumstances! 

But there’s a hitch.  The Roman soldier compelled you to go one mile; but Jesus’ commandment means he’s actually forcing you to go two!  But if you’re forced to go two miles, shouldn’t you then go four?  Or eight?  Or sixteen?  You can see how quickly this becomes absurd.  Is Jesus’ instruction incoherent?  No; but we’re reading it wrong, by making it into just another form of compulsion.  The point is to go beyond what is expected, and not to impose that as a new, rigid benchmark.  Under the Law of Moses, the best one could hope was to live up to the standard.  Jesus encourages you to exceed it, instead.  This is why Paul, although he could have given Philemon a direct instruction as an Apostle, chose instead to persuade him.  It’s so much more meaningful, when good deeds well up from a loving heart, rather than fear.  While a day of judgment is coming, Jesus prefers to appeal to you, rather than compel you into his service, “in order that your goodness might not be by compulsion but of your own accord” (Phm 14).

Jeremy Nettles

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