Before he teaches, Paul grieves. Before he argues, he weeps. Before he explains God’s mysterious purposes, he opens his own heart.
At first glance, Romans 9 appears to present the preacher with an impossible task. The verses immediately following this pericope, the parenthetical bits (9:6-13), have generated centuries of debate over election, predestination, and the mysterious purposes of God. It might seem tempting either to rush ahead “Jacob I loved and Esau I hated,” or to retreat into generalities about God’s sovereignty. Do not take your cue from online battling and bashing or from wanting to impress your denomination or diocese. Take your cue from the scripture, the immediate bits of the Romans 9:1-5 pericope, and notice how Paul starts. It is altogether different than either of those tacks. Before he teaches, Paul grieves. Before he argues, he weeps. Before he explains God’s mysterious purposes, he opens his own heart. “I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart” (Romans 9:2). That sorrow is not rhetorical flourishing. It is the emotional atmosphere in which everything else in Romans 9-11 must be read.
Yet, Paul’s grief is also remarkable because it culminates in an intense statement, shocking, a real thunderbolt of the New Testament: “I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers” (Romans 9:3). Do not rush past those words as a preacher. They are meant to be arresting. They sound impossible. Could Paul truly mean this? Could anyone love another human being to such an extent? Rather than softening the statement or immediately qualifying it, allow the congregation to feel its weight. Let them hear the impossible wish before explaining it. I have family members who have desperately wished and, indeed, prayed(!) that the Lord would not just take away illnesses and conditions, but almost striking a bargain with God, “Let me suffer it instead of my daughter, my wife,” and so on. This is a very human Paul we are hearing.
So, let your human hearers hang on this for a while. Because that impossible wish is precisely what opens the door to Christ. Paul wishes he could trade places with Israel, but he cannot. It is not that his love is deficient. It is just because no apostle, no matter how faithful, can accomplish what only the Son of God has accomplished. And listen up, preacher! No preacher can trade places with his hearers. No father can trade places with his children. No mother can trade places with her son. No spouse can trade places with the beloved. No friend with another friend, no saint with another sinner’s condemnation, and no Christian, however compassionate, can become accursed so another might be saved.
There is only One who can, and He already has. This is the obvious Gospel hook in the epistle, rendering Romans 9 a profoundly Christological text. Paul’s impossible longing throws Christ’s accomplished work into brilliant relief. Paul says, in effect, “If only I could become accursed for them.” Christ does not just wish for it, He becomes the curse Himself. As Paul wrote in an earlier epistle, “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the Law by becoming a curse for us” (Galatians 3:13). Where Paul can only wish, Jesus acts.
Substitution becomes the natural Christological center of a sermon on this text. Paul’s language invites the preacher to proclaim, once more, the glorious exchange accomplished on the cross, and the Bible offers a panoply of ways to talk about that exchange. Consider these examples. Christ bears our curse, so we receive His blessing. Jesus takes our sin, so we receive His righteousness. Jesus enters our death, so we inherit His life. Jesus becomes poor, so that by His poverty we become rich. Jesus suffers condemnation, so we hear His father’s verdict of justification. Together, these images unfold the inexhaustible richness of Christ’s saving work. Do not get stuck in the rut of just one metaphor to deliver the atonement. Rejoice in the variety the scriptures offer as you describe the exchange accomplished in the cross of Christ.
Paul’s language invites the preacher to proclaim, once more, the glorious exchange accomplished on the cross, and the Bible offers a panoply of ways to talk about that exchange.
The substitutionary atonement, the glorious exchange, is grounded in the blood, sweat, and tears of Calvary, making it painfully concrete. The condemnation Paul cannot shoulder is a bodily one, and it falls on the body of God incarnate, Jesus. His nails, scourging, and mocking, His thirst, abandonment, and death, none of these belongs to Jesus by right. They belong to us. We should have stood beneath that judgment. We should have borne that sentence. Instead, the Prince of Peace enters His people’s poverty. Jesus steps into our flesh, our curse, our death, and our grave. This is no imaginary exchange. It is historical, corporeal, and complete.
Frontload Christ in a sermon like this on “exchange.” Once you have, you can return to Paul. How is it Paul can speak with such astonishing compassion? Because Christ has already loved him this way. Paul’s longing is not heroic idealism. It is sanctification. The apostle has spent years hearing the Gospel and the pattern of Christ has begun to shape his mind, his will, and his heart. Christ’s own compassion has become visible in his servant, his apostle. Paul cannot save Israel, but he has started to resemble the one who died to do just that.
Keeping that fact front and center helps preserve your pulpit time from a mere mild exhortation about evangelism. Paul’s grief should challenge our own complacency and spur us on to love for neighbor, particularly those outside the faith. But Romans 9 is not written to spark guilt in first century or twenty-first century hearers about witnessing more often! It asks this question instead: Has Christ’s own heart begun to shape ours? Will Christ’s heart shape yours? Do we grieve because He first grieved? Do we long because He first longed? Christian compassion does not spontaneously generate under its own will. It is always sparked by something else. It grows where Christ’s mercy has first taken root.
Christ’s work is distinct. Christ’s work is unique. We are never substitutes for another person’s salvation. There is no saving by proxy. We are witnesses to the Substitute with a capital “S.” We do not carry another’s condemnation. Christ does that, and we proclaim Him. We do not exchange our righteousness for another person’s sin. Rather, we announce the one who has already accomplished the only exchange capable of reconciling sinners to God. Our love is testimonial, not substitutional. We bear witness to what Christ has done for the world, what Christ has done for me, and stand by the promise He proclaims on behalf of our neighbors too. This is what gives us the desire and the power to walk beside sisters, pray for brothers, love enemies, suffer with them, and patiently bear their burdens. It is precisely because Christ has already carried the one burden none of us could ever carry.
The opening verses of this pericope underscore the Christological reading I am banging-on about here. Paul catalogues Israel’s extraordinary privileges: Adoption, glory, covenants, giving of the Law, worship, promises, and patriarchs. Every one of these gifts finds its fulfillment in Christ. The list crescendos to its climax: “From them, according to the flesh, is the Christ.” Catalogues finish with a bang like that. Christ is not an arbitrary ending here. Rather, Paul is reinforcing the point that Israel’s greatest privilege is her Messiah, not just her history. Jesus, descended according to the flesh, is simultaneously, “God over all, blessed forever.” Paul’s grief is not just about how Israel has lost her way. It is because so many have failed to recognize the Messiah, who is the point of it all.
Therefore, for your preaching this week, Romans 9:1-5 (and the section in parenthesis?) is a chance to preach Christ through Paul’s tears. Do not leave your hearers merely marveling at Paul’s devotion. Leave them rejoicing in Christ’s. Paul reaches and preaches an exchange he cannot accomplish. Jesus accomplishes the exchange Paul can only imagine. And because Jesus does that, He also forms people whose hearts grow into His and begin to resemble His too. They cannot save the world. They cannot bear someone else’s curse. But they can bear witness to the one who did. They can speak of the Prince who entered the pauper’s poverty, the Holy One who became sin for sinners, the Blessed One who became a curse, the Living One who entered death in order that the dead might live. That is the exchange at the heart of the Gospel, and it is the exchange which makes sense not only of Romans 9 but also of Paul’s entire life, ministry, and grief.
Additional Resources:
Craft of Preaching-Check out 1517’s resources on Romans 9:1-5 (6-13).
Concordia Theology-Various helps from Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, MO to assist you preaching Romans 9:1-5 (6-13).
Lectionary Kick-Start-Check out this fantastic podcast from Craft of Preaching authors Peter Nafzger and David Schmitt as they dig into the texts for this Sunday!
The Pastor’s Workshop-Check out all the great preaching resources from our friends at the Pastor’s Workshop!
