Balancing Grace and the Severity of Sin

I have to be honest. As a theologian, I tend toward an academic reading of the Bible. Sometimes I run across a verse that seems to suggest that if I'm still sinning, I'm putting my salvation at risk. At other times, there are verses I'll come across that lead me to think, "well, I won't worry about sin that much. I'm forgiven!" Sometimes I confront a particular doctrine, or church teaching, and get lost in the details.

 

But a good Christian priest and pastor told me recently, and he was right: all the details are there for one reason... to lead us back to Christ.

 

The Divine Paradox

 

The Apostle Paul confronts this tension directly in Romans 6:1-2: "What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it?" The Greek construction μὴ γένοιτο (mē genoito) represents the strongest possible negation in Koine Greek—an optative of wish expressing not merely logical contradiction but moral impossibility.

 

This grammatical intensity reveals Paul's conviction that gospel assurance and sin's severity aren't competing principles but complementary truths within the same divine reality. The participial phrase "οἵτινες ἀπεθάνομεν τῇ ἁμαρτίᾳ" (we who died to sin) employs the aorist tense, indicating a definitive, completed action. Our death to sin isn't aspirational but factual—a theological reality established through our union with Christ.

 

Paul doesn't present this tension as a problem to resolve but as a mystery to inhabit. In Romans 5:1, he establishes the security of justification: "Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." The perfect tense of δικαιωθέντες (having been justified) indicates a completed action with ongoing results—our justification stands secure.

 

Yet in Romans 7:19, this same apostle laments: "For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing." The present tense of πράσσω (I practice) indicates ongoing struggle, not occasional failure. This tension represents the authentic voice of sanctification—not despair but honest recognition of our continuing need for grace.

 

The Severity of Willful Sin

 

Scripture never minimizes sin's destructive power. The writer of Hebrews provides one of the most sobering warnings: "For if we go on sinning deliberately after receiving the knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins, but a fearful expectation of judgment..." (Heb 10:26-27).

 

The Greek ἑκουσίως ἁμαρτανόντων (sinning deliberately) employs a present participle indicating continuous, willful sin—not momentary failure but persistent rebellion. This distinction between sins of weakness and sins of deliberate defiance proves crucial for understanding the text's warning.

 

This passage doesn't contradict gospel assurance but rather defines its boundaries. The assurance of salvation isn't license for moral indifference. The faith that saves is never alone but always accompanied by the fruits of repentance and love, however imperfectly expressed in this life.

 

When we minimize sin's severity, we unwittingly diminish the magnificence of grace. The cross stands as God's definitive statement on sin's gravity—requiring nothing less than the Son's sacrificial death. Every dismissal of sin's seriousness is simultaneously a devaluation of Calvary's cost. To paraphrase Lutheran theologian (and martyr) Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the grace of God is free, but it isn't cheap - because it cost Jesus his very life (you might recognize that quote from my novel, Slingshot).

 

The Supremacy of Grace

 

Yet within this tension, Paul establishes grace's ultimate triumph: "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" (Rom 8:1). Absolutely no condemnation remains.

 

The phrase "in Christ Jesus" (ἐν Χριστῷ Ἰησοῦ) represents the locative of sphere—indicating not merely association with Christ but existence within the realm of his person and work. This union with Christ transforms our very identity, redefining us not by our failures but by his faithfulness.

 

Grace doesn't merely forgive sin; it fundamentally reorients our relationship to sin. "Sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace" (Rom 6:14). The future indicative κυριεύσει (will have dominion) functions as an emphatic promise, not a mere possibility. Grace doesn't merely pardon; it empowers.

 

Living in the Tension

 

How then do we live within this tension? Paul provides guidance: "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure" (Phil 2:12-13).

 

That's a verse I struggled with a long time as a Protestant pastor. I mean, it seems to contradict faith alone--and it does, if what you mean is a faith that merely "accepts" that something is true, but isn't a faith enveloped and refined by the love of Christ.

 

The imperative κατεργάζεσθε (work out) employs the middle voice—indicating personal involvement in a process God initiates. The paradox lies in the conjunction γάρ (for, because): our working is grounded in God's prior working. We don't work for salvation but from salvation, expressing outwardly what God has placed inwardly.

 

This dynamic cooperation between divine sovereignty and human responsibility appears throughout Scripture. "Put to death therefore what is earthly in you" (Col 3:5) commands Paul, while simultaneously reminding us that "you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God" (Col 3:3). The indicative (what is true) always precedes and grounds the imperative (what we must do).

 

Practical Wisdom for the Journey

 

How might we navigate this tension in daily life? Consider these principles:

 

1. Begin with identity, not activity. The fundamental question isn't "What should I do?" but "Who am I in Christ?" Identity precedes and produces activity. "We love because he first loved us" (1 John 4:19).

2. Embrace godly sorrow. "For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death" (2 Cor 7:10). The Greek λύπη (grief) indicates not merely emotional remorse but a deep-seated recognition of sin's offense against God's holiness. If you struggle to feel that kind of remose, I recommend meditating on Christ's passion. Read the story of his crucifixion. Look at the image of a crucifix or a cross. Remember what He did for you, the price he paid, and how it was your sin that made it necessary.

3. Distinguish conviction from condemnation. The Holy Spirit convicts to restore; Satan condemns to destroy. Conviction points specifically to sin and toward Christ; condemnation generalizes failure and leads away from hope.

4. Practice confession without excuse. "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9). The Greek ὁμολογῶμεν (confess) literally means "to say the same thing"—to agree with God about our sin without minimization or justification.

5. Rest in Christ's finished work. "It is finished" (John 19:30). Christ's final declaration (τετέλεσται) employs the perfect tense—indicating a completed action with enduring results. Our assurance rests not in our performance but in his.

 

The Rhythms of Grace and Repentance

 

This tension between grace and repentance creates a spiritual rhythm that characterizes authentic Christian life. Martin Luther captured this dynamic in his first of the Ninety-Five Theses: "When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said 'Repent,' he intended that the entire life of believers should be repentance" (Disputation on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences (1517), LW 31:25).

 

That was one of Luther's theses that the Catholic Church agreed with, by the way. It's really at the heart of Christianity.

 

Yet this continual repentance occurs within the embrace of grace, not as a means of earning it. There's certainly a repentance involved in conversion, a "changing of the mind" away from the way were were going before. However, for the believer, repentance doesn't end. As baptized believers in Christ, we repent not to become children but because we already are children. "See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are" (1 John 3:1).

 

This rhythm creates a paradoxical experience: increasingly aware of our sin yet increasingly confident in grace. As we grow spiritually, even if we sin less often by the grace of God, we recognize sin more—while simultaneously grasping more fully the depths of God's forgiveness. Spiritual maturity produces both greater humility about ourselves and greater confidence in Christ. Thus, if you are feeling more burdened about your sin even though you're fighting the battle, even though you're becoming holier, it isn't a sign that you're backsliding necessarily. It's a sign that you gaining the mind of Christ.

 

Christ as Center

 

The solution to this tension isn't found in diminishing either pole—neither minimizing sin's severity nor questioning grace's sufficiency. Rather, the solution is christological. All theological roads must lead to Christ—the one in whom "all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell" (Col 1:19).

 

In Christ, we find both grace's assurance and sin's remedy, not as competing truths but as complementary aspects of God's redemptive work. The cross stands as God's definitive statement on both sin's gravity and grace's supremacy—revealing simultaneously how seriously God takes sin and how completely he forgives it.

 

When we fixate on particular doctrines at the expense of this primary truth, apart from what those doctrines are there for (to lead us to Christ) it’s easy to lose sight. As the saying goes, we can miss the forest for the trees. We can get really hung up on if we’ve committed a “mortal sin,” and whether that puts is in danger (which might cause us to despair of we stay there with it), or we can recognize that danger of the sin and use that to drive us back to Christ. Yes, even the sense of feeling “condemned” or “anxious” is a gracious invitation to cling to Christ all the more. At the same time, when we return to Christ, when we see him properly as our Crucified and Risen Lord, we can’t get lax about sin, either. The high price He paid so that we could live with him forever was a price he paid on account of our sin. That means, the danger of sin is grave. But thanks be to God. Jesus defeated the grave.

In fact, this post was probably mis-titled. It's not so much a "balance" as it is a recognition that in Christ all of it is held together.  It's only when we lose sight of Christ that we end up in licentiousness (sinning as if it doesn't matter) or in despair (wallowing in our sin).  

Put another way, "justice" in Christianity isn't best depicted by the "scales of justice," but by the cross itself.  

In Jesus' name,

Judah