Romans 5:13–21 — Christ vs. Adam — by Scott Sperling
A study written in the style of the eminent 17th century divine John King (c. 1559-1621), Bishop of London (1611-1621)
[12 Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned —]
13 To be sure, sin was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law. 14 Nevertheless, death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come.
15 But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many! 16 Nor can the gift of God be compared with the result of one man’s sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification. 17 For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ!
18 Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people. 19 For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.
20 The law was brought in so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, 21 so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. — Romans 5:12–21 (NIV)
The apostle Paul presents to us in this passage (Romans 5:12–19) a most extraordinary parallel. As “sin entered into the world through one man” (vs. 12) as a result of his transgression — that first Adam — bringing death upon all mankind, even so has righteousness entered through the obedience of another Man — our blessed Savior Jesus Christ — bringing justification and life to all who believe. Adam, through his disobedience in that garden where innocence dwelt, roiled the world most grievously, polluting it with sin and subjecting it to death. But Christ, through His perfect obedience, through His sacrifice upon the cross, and through His glorious resurrection from the grave, undid that mess most completely, restoring to fallen humanity the possibility of eternal life and the favor of the Almighty. It is this marvelous parallel, this story arc of redemption manifested in human history, that we will explore as we look at this passage.
Sin Before the Law (vs. 13–14)
[12 Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned —]
13 To be sure, sin was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law. 14 Nevertheless, death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come.
We begin by noting a singular oddity in the construction of this passage, verses 12 through 19, wherein Paul begins a sentence in verse 12, but does not finish it. Rather, he makes a digression in verses 13 and 14, in order that he might clarify certain matters touching sin and the law, before he goes on to complete his grand comparison between Adam and Christ. The apostle, as it were, leaves his readers suspended (at the end of verse 12), holding the opening notes of his theme while he elaborates upon a necessary point (in verses 13 and 14).
Here is the interrupted sentence: “Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned — .” Given what Paul goes on to state in verses 15 through 21, we may reasonably speculate upon how Paul would have finished this sentence, had his thought not been interrupted. The entire sentence, along with a reasonable completion based on the statements in the later verses, could read:: “Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned, so also, through one man Jesus Christ, righteousness entered the world, and conquered sin and death.” This completion captures the essence of what Paul unfolds throughout the remainder of this glorious passage.
Yet Paul did not finish that sentence that he began in verse 12. Instead, he digressed for a few verses to clarify matters of no small importance, particularly to those educated in the Hebrew Scriptures. Paul stated in verse 12 that “death came to all people, because all sinned.” This statement raises some pressing questions: “If the law of Moses had not yet been given before the time of Moses (in those ancient days from Adam to Moses), upon what basis could sin be counted against those who lived in that period of time? And if sin could not be counted against them (due to the absence of the law), why did death (as a punishment for sin) come to people who had not committed a transgression against any explicit command?”
The apostle preemptively answers this objection by stating: “To be sure, sin was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law” (vs. 13). Paul brings up a truth here that is fundamental, yet oft neglected, in the discourse about sin. He states unequivocally that “sin was in the world before the law was given.” Before Moses stood on the mount and received the written Law of God, yet “sin was in the world.” And yet, Paul goes on to admit that “sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law.” And yet, Paul next teaches us: “Nevertheless, death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam...” (vs. 14).
This sounds puzzling. How can we reconcile these statements? Again, “sin was in the world” before Moses, “sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law,” and yet, “death reigned” before the time of Moses. The only solution to this conundrum is to conclude that, before the time of Moses, there was indeed a “law” to which humanity was accountable even before God revealed His law to Moses.
The Almighty God, in His infinite wisdom and providence, has never left humanity without a witness concerning righteousness. On the contrary, truly, He has inscribed upon the very conscience of every human a “law” — what is often called the natural law — wherein the requirements of God’s holiness are written not upon tables of stone, but upon the tablets of the human heart. Paul himself speaks upon this matter earlier in his epistle to the Romans, in chapter two, wherein he states: “Indeed, when Gentiles, who do not have the law, do by nature things required by the law, they are a law for themselves, even though they do not have the law. They show that the requirements of the law are written on their hearts, their consciences also bearing witness, and their thoughts sometimes accusing them and at other times even defending them” (Rom. 2:14–15). Mark well these words: “the requirements of the law are written upon their hearts.” The conscience does “bear witness” against transgression, and the very thoughts of a person do “accuse him” when he has gone astray from righteousness.
From the perspective of human justice and earthly order, we may understand why sin cannot be reckoned where there is no written law. In general, in the courts of a just human government, one cannot be arrested and charged with a crime for which no statute exists in writing. This is righteous order among mortals. Yet God’s justice extends beyond the mere letter of any earthly statute. The Almighty regards not only what is written in stone, but also what is written in the heart. We may be doing something that our conscience declares to be wrong, and yet, if there be no written law against it, that action cannot be held against us in a just human court. But God can hold us to account for actions against our conscience, because, make no mistake, God knows the thoughts and attitudes of our hearts. For this reason, Paul also declares in chapter two: “All who sin apart from the [written] law will also perish apart from the law, and all who sin under the [written] law will be judged by the law” (Rom. 2:12). There is “sin apart from the [written] law”, and that sin shall be punished. It is that sin which is carried out against the natural law written by God upon our hearts.
The history of humanity before the giving of the Mosaic law provides abundant testimony concerning this truth. God sent a flood upon the earth in the days of Noah, sweeping away the wicked and preserving only the righteous few. Was there a written law against the sins that provoked this deluge? No! Yet the human consciences accused them of transgression, and God’s judgment fell upon them. Again, before the law was given, the Almighty rained down fire and brimstone upon Sodom and Gomorrah, destroying those cities utterly because of their wickedness. Yet again, did the people of Sodom and Gomorrah have scrolls of law tucked away, which were given to them by God? No, yet no one can deny that they sinned most grievously, and their consciences knew it. And moreover, in the days of the Egyptian captivity, God sent plagues upon the land — the waters turned to blood, the locusts devoured the crops, darkness covered the land — all these things as punishment for Egyptian sin, though no written code had been promulgated to Pharaoh and his people.
And so, though in the human courts of law, we may not take into account sin committed against unwritten laws, yet God does take it into account on the basis of a universal natural law. That is Paul’s point here, in verse 14: “Nevertheless, death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come.” Death reigned from Adam to Moses, not because God was unjust in punishing sins without a written law, but because the natural law written upon the conscience was sufficient to render people accountable. God’s judgment is always perfectly just, and it is never exercised apart from sufficient moral revelation given unto the one judged.
The Work of Christ vs. The Work of Adam (vss. 15–17)
[14 ... even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come.]
15 But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many!
16 Nor can the gift of God be compared with the result of one man’s sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification. 17 For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ!
Having clarified through a digression this matter concerning sin and the natural law, Paul now returns to his grand theme and introduces an extraordinary comparison. At the conclusion of verse 14, the Apostle writes of Adam “who is a pattern of the one to come” (speaking of Jesus as “the one to come”). This statement might at first perplex us, for we would not naturally think to compare Adam — the first man, the father of all humanity, he who brought sin and death into the world — with Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the embodiment of all righteousness and holiness. Yet Paul perceives a profound similitude between these two figures, and uses it as a basis for an instructive comparison.
What, then, is the pattern by which Adam resembles Christ? It is this: both Adam and Christ, through their most significant and consequential actions, affected every single person who ever lived upon this earth. Neither of these two men was a mere individual whose actions touched only those immediately around him. Rather, each of them engaged in an act of such cosmic and universal consequence that all of humanity — past, present, and future — has been affected thereby. In the case of Adam, that fateful action was his transgression in the garden. Through this one sin (as we have noted), sin entered into the world, and death entered by sin, and thus death passed upon all humanity. In the case of Christ, the supreme action was His atoning death upon the cross and His glorious resurrection from the grave — the “gift” of which Paul later speaks.
Here, then, the pattern reveals its deepest meaning. Adam and Christ are alike in that both affected all humanity universally, even though they are dissimilar in that Adam’s work was ruinous while Christ’s work was redemptive. For Adam, the defining action was his fall, and the effect thereof was destructive: sin and death came upon all humanity. For Christ, the defining action was His triumph — His perfect sacrifice and glorious resurrection — and the effect thereof was life-giving: justification and righteousness are made available to all who shall receive them. The dominion of sin and death is thus met and overcome by the dominion of grace and life.
To express the comparison in explicit terms, the apostle lays out the comparison employing an effectual rhetorical form — an argument from the lesser to the greater. Paul states: “But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many!” (vs. 15). Observe the force of this argument. If Adam’s one transgression — a single act of disobedience — sufficed to bring death upon all humanity, then how much more shall Christ’s gift — the work of God’s grace itself, wrought by the Divine Son — suffice to bring life for all humanity? If the smaller power wrought such tremendous effects, would not the effects of the greater power be even more tremendous? The gift is the great reversal — the gift of life itself, of eternal restoration, of access to God’s favor, of the reversal of the sentence of death pronounced upon Adam and all his children. Through Adam came death; through Christ comes life everlasting.
The word that Paul employs here is most significant: the gift “overflows” to the many. This is no bare sufficiency, no mere adequacy that exactly balances the harm done by Adam. Rather, grace does “overflow,” it abounds, it even superabounds to all who shall receive it. The grace of God is not miserly or grudging; it is lavish and inexhaustible. It does not merely restore what was lost; it bestows benefits far exceeding what could have been imagined. This overflowing grace is the very character and nature of God’s work in redemption — ever more than we deserve, ever more than we expect, ever beyond our measuring.
Paul continues his comparison, now directing his attention to the results of Adam’s sin and Christ’s gift. The Apostle states: “Nor can the gift of God be compared with the result of one man’s sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification” (vs. 16). Let us mark with care the terms wherein Paul frames this contrast. Through Adam’s one sin came judgment and condemnation. The judgment of God is His verdict — His pronouncement of guilt upon the transgressor. Condemnation is the sentence itself, the declaration that the sinner stands deserving of punishment and death. Through this one trespass of Adam, judgment and condemnation fell upon all humanity. But what of Christ’s work? The gift of Christ followed not one sin, but “many trespasses” — an innumerable multitude of transgressions committed by all the sons and daughters of Adam throughout all the ages of the world. And whereas one sin brought condemnation, the “gift” followed “many trespasses” and nevertheless, brings justification through Christ.
And let us note: “justification” is a most precious doctrine, touching the very heart of the gospel. “Justification” is that work of God whereby He acquits the sinner, removing his sins from the Divine accounting as if they had never been committed. It is the reversal of condemnation. Where condemnation says “You are guilty and deserving of death,” justification says “Your sins are forgiven, your guilt is removed, your are acquitted.” This is not accomplished by any merit of our own, nor by any works of the law, but solely through the grace of God working through faith in Jesus Christ our Lord. In this manner, the work of Christ effectually restores and recovers all that was lost through Adam’s fall.
Paul next narrows his focus, directing all his rhetorical power toward that most essential aspect of Christ’s redemptive work — the reversal of death itself. The Apostle writes: “For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ!” (vs. 17). The image is powerful and vivid. In Adam’s sin, death assumed dominion as a sovereign over all humanity. Paul, for literary effect, portrays death not merely as an event, nor as a consequence, but as a ruling power — a tyrant that has seized the throne of human existence and holds sway over all creation. From Adam until this very day, death “reigns” over all men, for all must pass through that final threshold beyond which no man may return by his own power.
But mark now the grace and glory of what Paul announces. If death reigned through Adam, then (as Paul states) “how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ!” (vs. 17). No longer is death the sovereign; rather, those who are justified through Christ “reign in life.” They become, as it were, potentates and monarchs, possessing dominion through Christ over the very power that once enslaved them. Yet here the apostle inserts a word of most critical importance — the word “receive.” God’s “abundant provision of grace and the gift of righteousness” are not bestowed automatically upon all humanity. Rather, they are made available — freely offered to all — yet must be “received” by those who would benefit from them. And the means of receiving these precious gifts is through faith, that living trust whereby we commit ourselves wholly to Jesus Christ, believing that He died for our sins and was raised again by the Father for our justification. God’s grace, though infinite and freely offered, does not override the will of humans; it must be embraced, accepted, and received by the penitent heart through faith.
The Universal Scope of Christ’s Work (vss. 18–19)
18 Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people. 19 For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.
We now arrive at a verse that stands at the very heart of this passage, and indeed at the very heart of the gospel itself. Here Paul makes a pronouncement of such grandeur and consequence that it demands our most careful meditation and our most reverent attention. The apostle states: “Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people” (vs. 18).
Observe the parallelism that Paul constructs with such deliberate care. Adam’s “one trespass” brought “condemnation” for all people. Christ’s “one righteous act” brought “justification and life for all people.” The structure of the sentence compels us to recognize that the scope of Christ’s work must be no less universal than the scope of Adam’s transgression. If Adam affected all humanity through “his one trespass,” then Christ must affect all humanity through His obedience, the “one righteous act.” To admit otherwise would be to say that Christ’s work is less powerful, less extensive, and less effective than Adam’s work — a proposition that contradicts the very heart of Paul’s argument. And so we arrive at the doctrine of the universal scope of Christ’s atonement — a truth most profound, demanding both mind and heart.
This universal scope raises a matter that causes perplexity in the minds of many believers, and yet the logic of this verse compels us to a certain conclusion. If Christ’s work is truly universal in scope, then it must extend to all those who lived before Christ’s incarnation, as well as those who lived after Christ’s incarnation. How could Abraham be justified? How could Moses stand righteous before God? How could David, the man after God’s own heart, receive forgiveness and restoration?
The answer lies in understanding the eternal efficacy (past, present, and future) of Christ’s redemptive work — and Paul himself provides us with the mechanism by which the saints of the Old Testament grabbed hold of the redemption available through Christ, citing back in Romans 4, the words of Genesis: “Abraham believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness” (Rom. 4:3; Gen. 15:6). Here we perceive how God has always justified His people — through faith. “Abraham believed God” and his faith was “credited to him as righteousness.” This is justification through faith, wrought not by the law, but by the grace of God.
We must understand that the work of Christ is eternal in its efficacy, though it was accomplished at a particular moment in history. When Christ hung upon the cross and shed His blood for the sins of the world, His sacrifice did not begin its work at that moment alone and thenceforth extend only forward in time. Rather, His blood speaks more eloquently than the blood of Abel; it cries out from the cross backward through the centuries unto all those who had died in faith before He came, and forward through all the ages that shall follow until the end of time. As John the apostle declares in his first epistle: “[Christ] is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world” (1 John 2:2). The phrase “whole world” encompasses not merely all peoples and nations, but all times and seasons. The work of Christ stretches back to the beginning of humanity and reaches forward to the end of time. Every single person who has ever walked upon this earth shall be judged by God through Christ on that final day of judgment, for there is one judgment and one Judge.
Yet the universality of Christ’s work is not merely a matter of time; it is also a matter of space. We must not imagine that Christ’s salvation is available only to those who happen to live in lands where the gospel has been openly preached, or in times when Christian missionaries have established churches and spread the word of Christ. Such a limitation would render Christ’s work incomplete and would mean that the work of Christ does not truly undo the work of Adam.
Consider this matter with care. If Christ’s salvation were available only to a portion of mankind — only to those in certain lands, in certain times, hearing the gospel from certain Christian preachers — then the work of Christ would not be complete. Adam’s transgression affected all humanity universally, and if Christ’s redemptive work were limited to only a portion of humanity, then Adam’s dominion would still reign supreme over those left outside the reach of Christian missionaries. This cannot be, for Paul declares that Christ’s righteous act resulted in “justification and life for all people” (vs. 18). Whether they dwell in Israel before the time of Christ, or in China before the time of Christ, or in some far corner of the world where no missionary ever journeyed — we must believe that God’s grace extends to all, and that some way, somehow, every person shall have the opportunity to receive the gift of Christ’s righteousness by faith. For if it be otherwise — if the salvation of Christ is constrained by geography or by the accident of historical circumstance — then the work of Christ would not be complete, and Christ’s victory would not fully undo what Adam wrought. But the grace of God is vast and overflowing, and the work of Christ is universal in both time and space. This is what Paul proclaims, and this is what we must believe with all our hearts.
Having established the universal scope of Christ’s work, Paul next completes his comparison between Adam and Christ by directing our attention to the very nature of their actions. The apostle writes: “For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous” (vs. 19). The contrast here is wonderfully clear and powerful. Through Adam’s “disobedience” — his refusal to obey God’s command, his rebellion against the Almighty’s will — “the many were made sinners.” Not merely guilty, but “sinners” — transformed in nature, corrupted in essence, estranged from the holiness of God. But through Christ’s “obedience” — His perfect submission to the will of God, His absolute compliance with all righteousness — “the many shall be made righteous.” What Adam unmade through “disobedience,” Christ remakes through “obedience.”
Yet this “obedience” of Christ is twofold in its significance, and we must understand both aspects that we might fully apprehend the glory of our redemption. First, Christ’s “obedience” consisted in His living a life of perfect righteousness upon this earth. As He walked among us, teaching and healing, ministering to the sick and consoling the afflicted, He lived in perfect conformity with all the law of God. Not a word did He speak amiss; not a thought did He harbor that was contrary to holiness. This perfect obedience was essential to His redemptive work, for if Christ had possessed sins of His own, He could not have died as a sacrifice for the sins of others. The spotless Lamb of God must be without blemish that He might take away the sins of the world.
But there is a second aspect of Christ’s obedience, and it is no less remarkable than the first: Christ was “obedient” to the will of the Father in carrying out His redemptive mission. According to the eternal counsel of God the Father, the Son of God humbled Himself, coming from the glory of heaven to this lowly earth, taking upon Himself the form of a servant, becoming like unto men. And having done all this, He yielded Himself to the will of His Father, allowing Himself to be taken to the cross, to be crucified, to shed His blood for the sins of the world. “Not my will, but thine, be done,” He cried out in the garden of Gethsemane. This obedience, this submission, this yielding of Himself for our sakes — this is that second aspect of Christ’s “obedience” through which “the many are made righteous.”
The Law and the Triumph of Grace (vss. 20–21)
20 The law was brought in so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, 21 so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
We now arrive at the final verses of this passage, wherein Paul makes a statement that might seem most surprising and even paradoxical to those who have not pondered deeply the purposes and effects of God’s law. The apostle declares: “The law was brought in so that the trespass might increase....” (vs. 20).
At first hearing, this statement appears most strange. Would we not expect that the law of God, being holy and righteous, would decrease sin in the world? Would we not suppose that if people were to read the law of God, and were to know what God requires of them, they would modify their behavior and thereby reduce the amount of sin in the world? Yet Paul here seems to say the very opposite — that the law has the effect of causing trespass to “increase.” The answer to this conundrum lies in recognizing that Paul speaks not of an “increase” in the actual number or severity of sins committed, but rather of an “increase” in the awareness and reckoning of sin. Through the law of God, which is written in black and white, we become aware of what God considers to be sin. We are brought face to face with the truth of our own transgressions. We become conscious of our sinfulness in a way that we would not be if we relied upon the natural law alone.
As an example, let us consider the matter of coveting, which is forbidden in the tenth commandment of the law. In the natural law, written upon the conscience of all men, there may be a vague sense that coveting is unworthy. But we may convince ourselves that our coveting does not really harm anyone, that it is merely an internal feeling that hurts none. “My coveting isn’t really hurting anyone,” we say to ourselves, and so we proceed without remorse. Yet when we read the explicit commandment of God, “Thou shalt not covet,” we are forced to confront the truth that coveting is indeed a sin in the sight of God. The law makes this clear. In this manner, the “trespass increases” — not in number, but in our awareness and our reckoning of it.
This principle becomes even more evident when we consider the law of Christ as He set it forth in the Sermon on the Mount. The law of Moses, as it was given to the children of Israel, dealt for the most part with external actions. “Thou shalt not murder.... Thou shalt not steal.... Thou shalt not commit adultery....” These are commandments concerning outward deeds that may be observed or violated by action of the body.
But the law of Christ, as He taught it in the Sermon on the Mount, presses the law of God far deeper, unto the very thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Christ told His disciples, “You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’ But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister, will be subject to judgment” (Matt. 5:21–22). With these words of Christ, the law extends from the outward act of murder to the inward attitude of anger, which can give birth to murder. Similarly, Christ also states that “anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Matt. 5:28). The law again is extended from the external act to the internal reality of the impure thought. Moreover, Christ taught His followers to love their enemies, to do good unto those who do evil unto them, to turn the other cheek, to forgive not merely seven times but seventy times seven. These commandments go far beyond the mere abstention from harm; they require a positive and active good will toward all people.
Through these teachings, we become aware that all manner of things which we had not considered to be sins are indeed sins, under the law of Christ. Anger that we thought was righteous indignation is revealed to be sinful. Lust that we deemed to be merely natural and harmless is exposed as adultery of the heart. A lack of forgiveness that we thought was justified is shown to be contrary to God’s law. The inability to love our enemies is revealed to be transgression. And so, through the law, “the trespass increases” — not because the law makes us sin more, but because it enlightens us concerning what sin is, and in this light, we perceive that we are far greater sinners than we had supposed. We fall short not only in outward deed, but in every thought, every attitude, every motion of the heart. And in this recognition, we are driven to recognize our utter need for Christ.
However next, Paul proclaims a wonderful paradoxical truth: “... But where sin increased, grace increased all the more” (vs. 20). Just as the law brings us to the very brink of despair, revealing to us the fullness of our sinfulness and our utter inability to save ourselves, the “grace” of God bursts forth with even greater power and efficacy. The law was given not to save us, but to drive us to Christ. It was given that we might recognize our need for a Savior, that we might understand the depth of our dependence upon God’s mercy. And when we have been brought low by the law, when we have recognized our sin and our guilt through our awareness of the law, then the grace of God comes to us with healing and restoration, abounding all the more, above and beyond where sin abounded.
Paul brings this great passage to its climax with these words: “So that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord” (vs. 21). Here the apostle summarizes the grand theme that has been unfolded throughout these verses. “Sin,” which entered into the world through Adam, established itself as a reigning power, holding dominion over all humanity and bringing death to all, just as Paul stated, “sin reigned in death.” But “grace,” the unmerited favor of God, does now reign in the place of sin, not bringing judgment and condemnation, but bringing righteousness and eternal life, just as Paul stated, “so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life.” Again, “sin reigned in death” — death was the throne upon which sin did sit. But now “grace reigns through righteousness” — righteousness is the throne of grace, the instrument through which grace extends life eternal to all who believe. Christ has conquered sin and death. Through Christ, sin no longer reigns, but grace reigns “to bring eternal life.”
As we bring our study of this magnificent passage to a close, what is the sum and substance of all that we have heard? It is this: Christ has conquered sin and death. Christ has undone the ruin that Adam wrought. Through the one righteous act of Christ — His perfect obedience, His sacrificial death, His glorious resurrection — justification and life are made available to all people, in all times, and in all places.
The law, though it makes us aware of our sinfulness and our need for redemption, is not our enemy. Rather, it is the faithful instrument of God that brings us to Christ, in order that we might flee from our own self-righteousness and seek our justification in Him alone. The law of Moses, dealing with external actions, began this work; the law of Christ, reaching into the very depths of the heart, completes and deepens it. And when we have been brought low by the law, when we have recognized our sin and our guilt, then the grace of God comes to us with healing and restoration. “Where sin increases, grace increases all the more” (vs. 21). This is the nature of God’s mercy — it is infinite, inexhaustible, and exceedingly abundant.
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