More certain than death or taxes and more certain than “anything else in all creation” is the fact that God loves you.
There is, perhaps, no “Founding Father” who has left a bigger imprint on American life and culture, mythic or otherwise, than Benjamin Franklin. His prolific writings and kaleidoscopic interests have kept his legacy at the forefront of American hagiography. One of his many remarks that still endures is when he corresponded with the French scientist Jean-Baptiste Le Roy in the late 1780s and quipped, “In this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.” Within the letter itself, Franklin was reflecting upon the newfound independence of the newly formed nation. His analysis is amusingly blunt and exactingly honest, giving us a glimpse at his celebrated wit. Before the Industrial Revolution, before the Civil War, before the outbreak of a world war, an economic depression, followed by another world war, and before the technological advent of the modern era, life was still seen as precarious and uncertain. There wasn’t much that anyone could count on, except that they would be paying taxes till the day they died.
Not much has changed since then. Life on earth feels existentially perilous. Our days seem to be brimming with uncertainties and doubts, as we are bombarded by a constant flow of dangers and disasters that threaten to doom us all. We are surrounded by unsettling agendas, unfinished business, and uncertain futures. Life, to imbibe Tolkien’s words, seems to “stand on the edge of a knife.” An economic collapse, a global pandemic, and constant political tension, on top of climate change alarmism, will do that. Everywhere we look, we are seemingly confronted with our own frailty and fragility. What can we rely on to get by? Is there anything that’s solid or permanent? Are there any other certainties besides “death and taxes”? The answer, of course, is yes. There is something permanent and enduring upon which every person alive and everyone who has ever lived can rely — namely, the inseparable and inexhaustible love of God. “For I am sure,” the apostle declares, “that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:38–39).
There is something permanent and enduring upon which every person alive and everyone who has ever lived can rely — namely, the inseparable and inexhaustible love of God.
It is fitting that Paul begins this list by mentioning “life and death” since his readers, the believers in Rome, were encompassed by an environment of untold socio-political unrest. The infamous emperor Nero had recently come into power, with the tremors of what would become a hellish reign already coming to the surface. What was there for the Roman Christians to rely on? Where could they put their trust? What was certain? As Paul concludes Chapter 8 of his epistle to them, he insists that the only permanent reality this world has ever seen or known is God’s love as revealed in Christ Jesus. But how was Paul so “sure”? Where did this confidence come from? How could he be so certain of this love? The short answer, of course, is because of the gospel, which assured him that Jesus of Nazareth, the one who intervened for him on the Damascus Road, was none other than the Son of God and the Savior of the world, through whom every sinner receives grace “to bring about the obedience of faith” (Rom. 1:1–6).
Additionally, Paul’s confidence in God’s love stemmed from his own life experiences. This, to be sure, isn’t a gnostic sentiment. Rather, it is the practical recognition of the palpable evidence of God’s love based on observable data. After all, Paul’s list of perils that cannot separate or sever a person from God’s love are all hazards with which he was familiar (Rom. 8:35–36; cf. 2 Cor. 11:23–28). This is not an imaginary inventory of potential threats or made-up scenarios. Instead, this is a heartfelt testimony that each of these dangers is powerless when compared to the love of God in Christ Jesus. Paul can make this claim because he’s been there. In many ways, he is a living witness to the infinitude and permanency of God’s love, which was an especially potent message for the Roman believers who would soon be confronted with similar dangers. As the situation worsened for Roman Christians, it was God’s words, delivered through Paul, that would sustain them and reassure them of the constancy of God’s love for them.
Likewise, as we endure circumstances wherein God appears less than caring or loving, the word of the gospel announces that none of those circumstances can ever dampen or diminish God’s love for us. But what does it mean that God’s love is permanent “in Christ”? How can we know that is true? How can we be sure that is true for us? The answer to all those questions is found in the verses just prior to Paul’s “list”: “What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died — more than that, who was raised — who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us” (Rom. 8:31–34).
Within these words of solace is a reference to forces that stand “against us,” that oppose us. Even though these opposing forces are never identified, their origins are easily deduced by examining the surrounding texts. For example, in Chapter 6, Paul alludes to the fact that the saints of Rome were once “slaves of sin,” “impurity,” and “lawlessness” (Rom. 6:17, 19). Without Jesus, we are sin’s indentured servants; we are bound by “our sinful passions” (Rom. 7:5) and are “dead in trespasses and sins” (Eph. 2:1). We are “alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds” (Col. 1:21). Because Adam sinned — and we sinned “in Adam” (Rom. 5:12) — there remains an uncrossable gulf that separates us from God. Apart from God’s intervention for us in Christ, therefore, we are enslaved by our flesh whose master is the devil (1 John 3:8). All of which to say, then, that the gospel of Christ, rightly understood, is a jailbreak.
The good news of Jesus is a message of emancipation. It is the divine announcement of “liberty to the captives” (Luke 4:18; Ps. 146:7; Isa. 61:1). We who were slaves of sin have been “set free from sin,” as Paul puts it (Rom. 6:22–23). We’ve been liberated from the grip of sin and death and brought to life by “the Spirit of life” (Rom. 8:2). But, of course, the sin still lingers since we belong to the flesh. As Paul confesses in Chapter 7, sin’s residue and influence still rears its ugly head. Although in the Spirit he has been made righteous, in the flesh he is plagued by his flesh (Rom. 7:14–15). Even though he knows what he should be doing, he continues to do the very opposite (Rom. 7:18–19). He can’t seem to get out of his own way nor can he seem to get out from under “the body of death” that hangs over him (Rom. 7:24).
The gospel of Christ, rightly understood, is a jailbreak.
Consequently, that which stands against us is our old slave master, the flesh, which is subject to “that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world” (Rev. 12:9). He, of course, is the one who stands as the prosecutor of those who belong to Christ. He is the adversary who “accuses [us] day and night before our God” (Rev. 12:10; cf. Zech. 3:1–6). It is his objective to indict those whom Christ has acquitted, to bring charges against God’s chosen, and to condemn those who are already free from condemnation. His is a ministry of doubt and uncertainty. As in the Garden, the devil’s schemes revolve around asserting the dubiousness of God’s words. Paul’s point, therefore, is that notwithstanding the arguments of those who are against us, they can never erase or eradicate what Christ has already done for us.
As certain as the voices of opposition may sound in our ears, they are not more certain than what has already been accomplished for us in Jesus. After all, Christ “is the one who died — more than that, who was raised — who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us” (Rom. 8:34). The devil has already been displaced, sin has already been paid for, and death has already been defeated. Christ crucified, risen again, and ascended for us, therefore, gives us the certainty that those who have lined up in opposition to us are silenced not by us but by Christ himself. “Every accusation is hushed,” H. A. Ironside attests. “Our standing in Christ is complete and our justification unchangeable” (107). In other words, Paul’s questions are purely rhetorical. No one can stand against us, no one can bring any charges against us, and no one can condemn us because the Christ of God has already taken our condemnation on himself when he gave himself up to die on the cross (Rom. 7:24—8:1). No matter how much the devil demurs or our own doubts disturb us, nothing is stronger than the cross and the empty tomb. The work of Christ, then, is unassailable and unquestionable; it’s permanent.
This is what the word of the gospel announces — namely, that nothing in this life or the next has the power to undo what Christ has done. It is the divine assurance of the permanency of God’s love for us. It is our concrete reminder that absolutely nothing can “separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” “Nothing, positively nothing,” D. G. Barhnouse declares, “can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus” (3:3.178). Indeed, when Christ was heaving, writhing, and dying on the cross, he was, likewise, demonstrating the fathomless depths of God’s love for sinners (Rom. 5:8). “The cross,” John R. W. Stott comments, “is the guarantee of the continuing, unfailing generosity of God” (255). The Father’s love for you is permanently framed in the twisted and bloodied body of his Son. More certain than death or taxes and more certain than “anything else in all creation” is the fact that God loves you. Therefore, can anything sever us from this love? With the words of the gospel on our lips, we faithfully confess, not a chance in hell.
