August 13th: 2 Samuel 1 & Romans 13

Alastair Roberts

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August 13th: 2 Samuel 1 & Romans 13

August 13, 2020

Alastair Roberts

David's lament over Saul and Jonathan. Be subject to the governing authorities.

Reflections upon the readings from the ACNA Book of Common Prayer (http://bcp2019.anglicanchurch.net/).

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Transcript

2 Samuel 1. After the death of Saul when David had returned from striking down the Amalekites, David remained two days in Ziklag. And on the third day, behold, a man came from Saul's camp, with his clothes torn and dirt on his head. And when he came to David, he fell to the ground and paid homage.

David said to him, Where do you come from? And he said to him, I have escaped from the camp of Israel. And David said to him, How did it go? Tell me. And he answered, The people fled from the battle, and also many of the people have fallen and are dead.

And Saul and his son Jonathan are also dead. Then David said to the young man who told him, How do you know that Saul and his son Jonathan are dead? And the young man who told him said, By chance I happened to be on Mount Gilboa, and there was Saul leaning on his spear. And behold, the chariots and the horsemen were close upon him.

And when he looked behind him, he saw me, and called to me. And I answered, Here I am. And he said to me, Who are you? I answered him, I am an Amalekite.

And he said to me, Stand beside me and kill me, for anguish has seized me, and yet my life still lingers. So I stood beside him and killed him, because I was sure that he could not live after he had fallen. And I took the crown that was on his head, and the armlet that was on his arm, and I have brought them here to my lord.

Then David took hold of his clothes and tore them, and so did all the men who were with him. And they mourned and wept and fasted until evening for Saul and for Jonathan his son, and for the people of the Lord and for the house of Israel, because they had fallen by the sword. And David said to the young man who told him, Where do you come from? And he answered, I am the son of a sojourner, an Amalekite.

David said to him, How is it that you were not afraid to put out your hand to destroy the Lord's anointed? Then David called one of the young men and said, Go, execute him. And he struck him down so that he died. And David said to him, Your blood be on your head, for your own mouth has testified against you, saying, I have killed the Lord's anointed.

And David lamented with this lamentation over Saul and Jonathan his son, and he said it should be taught to the people of Judah. Behold, it is written in the book of Jasher. He said, Your glory, O Israel, is slain on your high places.

How the mighty have fallen! Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Ashkelon, lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised exult. You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor fields of offerings. For there the shield of the mighty was defiled, the shield of Saul, not anointed with oil.

From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul returned not empty. Saul and Jonathan, beloved and lovely, in life and in death they were not divided. They were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions.

You daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you luxuriously in scarlet, who put ornaments of gold on your apparel. How the mighty have fallen in the midst of the battle! Jonathan lies slain on your high places. I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan.

Very pleasant you have been to me. Your love to me was extraordinary, surpassing the love of women. How the mighty have fallen! And the weapons of war perished.

Second Samuel chapter 1 begins after David returns to Ziklag after recovering the captives from the Amalekites. He has won a stunning victory, strengthened his reputation among his men and won greater favour in Judah through his generous gifts. On the third day, however, news of Saul and Israel's catastrophic defeat arrives.

As I have previously noted, three-day periods occur on a few key occasions at the end of 1 Samuel, representing critical transitions. The man bringing the news declares that he played a part in Saul's death. This conflicts with the description of Saul's death back in 1 Samuel chapter 31.

While there are elaborate ways of harmonising the accounts, the most natural reading is probably to say that the man lied, hoping to get some reward from David for his part in killing Saul and bringing the crown and the armlet. While the Lord has clearly avenged David, David has scrupulously resisted taking vengeance into his own hands. Should David reward this man, who clearly expects to be rewarded for playing a part in Saul's death and for bringing him the crown and armlet, symbols of royalty, David's relationship to the death of Saul would become far less innocent and the foundations and legitimacy of his own kingdom would become less clear.

By judging the man, David keeps his hands clean. The man turns out to be an Amalekite. The Amalekites, as we've seen elsewhere, are often those who pick off the weakest.

And here we see an Amalekite acting as a scavenger, opportunistically picking clean the bones of the fallen. Saul had lost the kingdom on account of his taking spoil from the Amalekites, rather than destroying them, and there is some poetic justice in an Amalekite claiming to kill him and taking spoil from his body. David has just defeated the Amalekites who raided Ziklag and now he strikes down another Amalekite, acting where Saul failed to.

However, at points like this troubling concerns can surface. Saul and his house are cut off, while David's hands are kept clean, with convenient alibis, plausible deniability and personal distance. Nevertheless, things really do work out so very conveniently for David.

David's response affirms the inviolability of the Lord's anointed, even while it is apparently to his benefit that Saul was struck down. Also, as the one to inherit the throne, the principle of the inviolability of the Lord's anointed and resolute opposition to rebellion and regicide increasingly plays to David's personal advantage. David's magnanimity to the house of Saul and his mourning over the deaths of Saul and Jonathan are likely genuine and unfeigned.

However, as Mashi HaBertal and Stephen Holmes perceptively highlight, the political expediency of such outcomes for David, coupled with the distance that David is able to maintain from them and the posture of sorrow that he takes up relative to them, expose troubling realities about the character of politics more generally. For those whose lives are a public spectacle, like political leaders, it is almost impossible for moral behaviour not to have a tactical dimension. For instance, David not avenging himself on Nabal is moral, but it is also tactical, as avenging himself would make David into a very different sort of leader, a warlord with a vicious protection racket, whose legitimacy as a just king would always be questionable.

David also gets to have his cake and eat it too in the situation with Nabal and in this situation with Saul, as the Lord avenges him against his enemy on both occasions. The problem here is that when personal morality gets entangled with questions of reputation, political legitimacy and the like, with moral actions increasingly being expedient for cynical tactical reasons, action becomes a much, much murkier area, open to all sorts of mixed motives. While I really do not believe that we should regard David as acting as a mere cynical political operative, making a public spectacle of his non-involvement in and his sorrowful response to the death of his adversary for political expediency, the essential in-clarity of David's motives should unsettle us at such moments, not least as they reveal the character that our good deeds take more generally when they are performed before men.

This is one reason why the realm of politics is viewed with an appropriate degree of moral suspicion and why deep moral character is required to act faithfully within it. Even political operatives who, like David, are righteous men in their behaviour, are acting in a realm that can exert a corrosive effect upon true morality, something that I believe that we will see at points in David's life. It is very dangerous when morality becomes instrumentalised by concerns of power and status, as it so easily can in the realm of politics.

David's reaction to the news of the death of Saul may surprise some readers of 1 Samuel, in that book Saul had mercilessly pursued David and sought his life. Rather than rejoicing at Saul's comeuppance or expressing relief at the removal of his adversary, David pours out his heart in lament over the loss of Israel's king. Within David's expression of distress over the death of Saul and Jonathan, some profound yet unappreciated truths about the character of political leadership is exposed.

David's song of lament is entitled The Song of the Bow. This suggests a particular emphasis upon the death of Jonathan, who is associated with the bow as a weapon both within the song and within the narrative of Samuel more broadly. Indeed, as we look at the song more closely, this accent upon lamenting the death of Jonathan may be borne out in its structure and content.

The parallel between verse 19 and verse 25 might suggest that Jonathan is the glory, beauty or gazelle of Israel that David speaks of as slain upon the high places. Jonathan is the fleet-footed warrior, like Asahel in the chapter that follows. The swift gazelle leaping and skipping in the mountains appears as a romantic image for the beloved in the Song of Solomon, chapter 2, verses 8-9.

The image of the gazelle reappears in chapter 2, verse 17 and also in the concluding lines of the song, in chapter 8, verse 14. Jonathan is Israel's gazelle. He is the beloved of the people and their glory.

His death robs Israel of its bridegroom and favourite son. David is concerned that the deaths of Saul and Jonathan will be cause for rejoicing among the Philistines. He calls upon the land itself to mourn with him over the fallen Saul and Jonathan.

You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor fields of offerings. Saul and Jonathan were like strong lions and swift eagles. They were duels crowning Israel's mountains.

The weapons of Saul and Jonathan, the bow, the sword and the shield, come to stand for Saul and Jonathan themselves. Jonathan is the bow and Saul is the sword and the fallen anointed shield, in verses 21 and 22. David's song concludes with the declaration that the weapons of war perished.

Peter Lightheart observes, Jonathan and Saul not only had weapons but were weapons. But now they lie unused and useless on the heights of Gilboa. Sacrificial themes also play beneath the surface of the song.

Jonathan and Saul offer up blood and fat, in verse 22, and they are slain on the high places. Gilboa is called upon not to provide fields of offerings, in verse 21. Throughout the song, David refers to Saul and Jonathan in a way that presents them as romantic figures.

Their physicality and virility are prominent throughout. They are described as possessing the strength and speed of majestic animals, identified with the action of their weapons, and described as beloved and pleasant. While David wishes that the daughters of Philistia would not rejoice at Saul and Jonathan's demise, he calls upon the daughters of Israel to weep over Saul.

Saul is like a father or a bridegroom to the daughters of Israel, who dresses them in the finest apparel. David's personal grief at the death of his friend Jonathan overflows into a heart-wrenching declaration of the love between them. Jonathan, although the crown prince of Israel, had symbolically handed over his status to David, he had been loyal to David to the point of risking his life, and he had saved David from death.

Jonathan's love for David was remarkable. He had demonstrated a devotion to David far beyond any woman. David's song reveals some of the deep dynamics of political leadership.

The leadership described in his song is romantic and erotic. The relationship between the king and his son and their people is shot through with love and desire. Israel's beloved gazelle, Jonathan, has perished on the high places, and her daughters mourn the loss of the king who dressed them for marriage.

A land filled with the burgeoning life of awakened love now falls into the barrenness of mourning. Romantic and erotic themes are present throughout the narrative of Samuel and the early kingdom. Leaders are noted for their arresting physical appearance and by the desire and love that they provoke.

Saul is head and shoulders above all of the people. He is more handsome than any other in Israel. David is ruddy, bright-eyed and good-looking.

Solomon's physical appearance is a prominent theme within his song. The king is the lover, the bridegroom, the husband of his people, a theme that is powerfully illustrated by the song of Solomon. Around these figures cluster all of the ingredients of great romance, tales of daring do, the composition and playing of music, a fecundity of poetic imagery and the affection and attention of young women.

David and Solomon are the archetypal kings, not so much on account of military might or prowess, but because they are the great lovers of Israel. David's story is one of power gained through the winning of people's love. Saul loved him, Jonathan loved him, the women of Israel loved him, Michael, Saul's daughter, loved him, all of Israel and Judah loved him.

And that's just up to the end of chapter 18. David, whose name means beloved, is loved by God and expresses a deep love in return. As Augustine once observed, it is the lover who sings.

And David is the sweet singer of Israel. He's the one in whom Israel's devotion to the Lord bursts forth into the joy of song. The friendship between David and Jonathan reflects David's gaining of power through love.

The story of their love begins with the young David being taken from his father's house and brought into the house of Saul, much as a bride would be. And as Jonathan initiates a covenant with him, David's attractive appearance, he's ruddy and bright-eyed, is not the arresting masculinity of Saul's great stature and physique, but a softer, more feminine one. However, after stripping himself of the garments that displayed his royal masculine status and giving them to David, Jonathan, who formerly distinguished himself as a man on the battlefield, stays at home, is paralleled with Michael, is cast as a mamma's boy, and becomes more and more dependent upon David in emotional and material ways.

Meanwhile, the text goes out of its way to masculinize David, who goes out and fights in the most virile fashion, obtaining 200 foreskins from the Philistines. Yaron Peleg observes that the literary portrayal of David and Jonathan's relationship in gendered imagery serves the purpose of highlighting the political reversal whereby David is being established as the husband and father for the nation in Jonathan's place. Within David's song of lament, we witness the romance and the eros of political leadership.

This romantic political lament is not without modern parallel. Jackie Kennedy's appropriation of the line from the musical, Don't let it be forgot that once there was a spot for one brief shining moment that was known as Camelot, describes one such tragic modern political romance in a manner redolent of David's lament. Though it often evades our analysis, contemporary politics is suffused with such eros and romance.

The countless dollars expended on political advertising and the careful cultivation of image are designed not principally to inform the public, but to evoke their love and desire. We vote for our leaders not merely for their policies and competence, but for their charm, their charisma, their personal magnetism, their likability, their virility, attractiveness, and other such factors. We attend to their physicality, to their personal presence, and to their image.

Incumbencies can play out like love affairs, with a honeymoon period, followed by a cooling of affections. The book of Samuel's unembarrassed treatment of the dimensions of romance and eros in its account of political rule may provoke our enlightened judgment, leery as we can be of the superficiality of image-based politics. We may appeal to the Lord's example of looking beyond the outward appearance, searching for virtues such as economic prudence, political intelligence, and the like.

Yet the rest of the text of the book of Samuel suggests that, in choosing a leader, God looked primarily for a fitting lover for his people, and that even though the appearance of such a person wasn't sufficient to fit them for rule, it wasn't unimportant either. Perhaps in our pretensions to a rationality that exceeds the eros of politics, we leave ourselves unprepared to reckon with its necessary presence, and hence more vulnerable to its vicissitudes. Reflection upon the erotic politics of Samuel may prove helpful, alerting us to its continuing power and importance in our own day.

A question to consider. The ambivalent character of morality in the realm of political spectacle, where moral actions can so easily be cynically instrumentalised for the sake of power, self-advancement, social standing, as they almost unavoidably play out in ways that shape and often build up people's reputations, is by no means exclusive to politics. Nor, for that matter, is it something that people can easily opt out of.

If people are within the realm of the spectacle, the character and the motivations of their actions, even if they are righteous, will be cast into a sort of shadow. What are some of the other contexts in our day where such dynamics can play out? How can we be on guard against them? Are there any ways in which we can resist them? Romans chapter 13 Pay to all what is owed to them, taxes to whom taxes are owed, revenue to whom revenue is owed, respect to whom respect is owed, honour to whom honour is owed. Owe no one anything except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.

For the commandments, You shall not commit adultery, You shall not murder, You shall not steal, You shall not covet, and any other commandment are summed up in this word, You shall love your neighbour as yourself. Love does no wrong to a neighbour, therefore love is the fulfilling of the law. Besides this, You know the time, that the hour has come for You to wake from sleep, for salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed.

The night is far gone, the day is at hand. So then let us cast off the works of darkness, and put on the armour of light. Let us walk properly, as in the daytime, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and sensuality, not in quarrelling and jealousy, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh to gratify its desires.

Romans chapter 13 is one of the more controversial passages in Paul. Paul's brief statements about our relation to the authorities within it seem to proceed from an exceedingly conservative political vision, one that has troubled many, especially those who have hoped for somewhat more support for political radicalism, from an apostle for whom Christ's universal lordship is such a prominent theme. However, as is often the case with Paul, closer examination may reveal a more subtle picture than we initially supposed.

As usual, one of the first things that we need to do is to read these verses in their context, both the wider context and the more immediate one. The wider context of the letter speaks of the great act of God's grace in Christ, by which God's saving righteousness is realised in a manner which puts the ungodly in good standing with God, while manifesting and upholding the just order of the world. Christ declared to be the Son of God by the resurrection from the dead, and the good news of his reign is to be spread to all nations, calling people to the obedience of faith.

Clearly, in the light of such a message, governments cannot simply go on as if nothing had ever happened. Although Paul's statement at this juncture should not be expected to present a full account of the impact of Christ's lordship upon the realm of earthly government, we should read it aware that it belongs within such a larger picture. In the more immediate context of the preceding chapter, we also have teaching about not avenging ourselves, which provides important background for the discussion of the ruler as an avenger, serving God and carrying out God's wrath.

Beyond this, Paul has also just been teaching about how we relate to those outside the faith. His emphasis upon living at harmony and at peace with others is particularly important. Contrary to what some suppose, there is a very great deal that Christians can have in common with their non-Christian neighbours.

There is no necessary conflict between Christians and their non-Christian neighbours and governments in most situations. We should be those who prioritise and seek peaceful co-existence in our societies. As the Lord addresses the Jewish exiles in Babylon in Jeremiah 29, verse 7, but seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.

Even where harmony clearly does not exist, Paul has already taught about the importance of blessing those who persecute us. The persecutors of the early Christians were often those in government. Even in the context of the admittedly early reign of Nero and the commonality of suffering at the hands of the authorities for Christians, Paul can speak as if the ordinary relationship between Christians and government is one of respectful and obedient submission.

And he does not seem to be excessively concerned to articulate the potential, and I believe quite real, exceptions to or qualifications of this that we might so desire. Paul, we should remember, was a man often imprisoned beaten and otherwise mistreated by authorities of various types, yet who spoke of these authorities as an obedient citizen, rather than as a vengeful revolutionary. He served a Lord who had been unjustly condemned by the religious leaders of his people, and crucified by the empire of which he was a citizen.

Paul had also been a participant in events such as the martyrdom of Stephen, so he was well aware of the evil that could be done in the name of authorities. He was not someone who viewed authorities with rose-tinted spectacles or had any illusions about their character. If we consider carefully whose words we're reading, we might realize that Romans chapter 13 verses 1 to 7 are far more radical than we might have supposed.

Some have debated whether Paul's statements were merely for Christians in that immediate time and context, telling them to submit to rulers who weren't so bad. However, there is nothing in Paul's statements here that suggests such narrow scope, nor should we believe that the rulers were really that good. Besides, a broader application to his words resonates with what we find scripture teaching elsewhere.

Paul charges his readers to be subject to the governing authorities. Government as such is ordained and intended by God, and both Christians and non-Christians alike ought to submit to it. Clearly, there are various forms that government can take, and the associated forms of subjection can vary accordingly.

What it means and looks like to be subject to a modern democratic government is rather different from what it would have meant for the Roman Christians to submit to the emperor and the various officials of the empire. Nevertheless, Paul here teaches that we must subject ourselves to non-reciprocal human structures wherein we are commanded and have obligations laid upon us. He grounds this duty upon the fact that all authority ultimately derives from God's own authority, and that the actually existing authorities have been established by God.

We might here recall Jesus' words to Pilate in John 19, verse 11. Authority may be exercised rightly or wrongly by different bearers of it. However, it is important that we honour and are subject to authorities.

This is closely related to children's duty to honour their parents. Children must submit to and honour even unrighteous parents as they can, honouring them as they bear a natural authority relative to them. This honouring is not incompatible with conscientious objections to certain immoral requirements that they might make of us, but those who start with considering such objections are seldom obeying the primary command, which is perhaps most important at the point where the authority is committed to immorality.

We might perhaps think of David's attitude to King Saul here. Even after Saul had killed the priests and pursued him without a cause in order to kill him, David still refused to strike the laws anointed and address Saul with humility and with honour. How does God institute authorities? First, we should recognise that authority is less something that human beings construct from scratch in the world, in the great, for instance, founding events of social contracts imagined by some modern political theorists.

Rather, authority is something that emerges more organically and unpredictably in society and, as Paul believes, is raised up by God. Authority emerges in God's providence. We should begin to recognise a demythologising dimension to Paul's teaching here.

In a society with an emperor cult, for instance, the statement that the authorities are providentially raised up by God and, by implication, can be brought low or removed in a similar fashion is a somewhat deflationary account compared with the grand myths of the empires and kingdoms of the day. Authority is fundamentally a gift that God has given to humanity, and not just authority as such, but also the various actually existing authorities. A world stripped of authorities would not be a good place.

In the ordinary and divinely intended state of affairs, rulers function as a terror to evildoers, not to the righteous. There are clearly exceptions to this, as Paul well knew, even from his own personal experience. However, he is talking about the normal situation, not the exception here.

Authority was given by God in places such as Genesis 9, 5-6, as a means of dealing with malefactors. And for your lifeblood I will require a reckoning, from every beast I will require it, and from man. From his fellow man I will require a reckoning for the life of man.

Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in his own image. A proper relationship to authority should seek the approval of those in authority over us, through righteous submission. A fundamental posture of resistance to authorities is a resistance to God's appointment.

While there may be times that we cannot submit in good conscience, out of a desire to maintain peace, we will not be seeking out such occasions. When we encounter them we need to behave in a way that recognises and honours authority, even while we resist its unlawful impositions upon us. Oliver O'Donovan has remarked upon the radical character of Paul's statement here, arguing that, while in the light of Christ's victory it is nonetheless God's purpose that the structures of the old age continue to exercise their sway, the manner in which, and the purpose for which they do so, has been fundamentally reconceived.

He writes, That purpose is judgment. Government is an avenger to visit wrath on the wrongdoer. Correspondingly, as judgment in the ancient world always has in mind a decision between two parties, as in our civil, rather than our criminal, jurisdiction, it is also to praise the party who has acted rightly.

This exactly reflects the concept of mishpat in the Old Testament. What has now changed is the privileging of this aspect of governmental authority, so that the whole rationale of government is seen to rest on its capacity to effect the judicial task. St Paul's new assertion is that the performance of judgment alone justifies government, and this reflects his new Christian understanding of the political situation.

Reconceiving government in terms of the execution of judgment, once again there is a humbling of it. The ruler is a servant of God, not a God himself. He has a commission and a standard by which he himself can be judged, and a master to whom he is answerable.

The ruler is a steward of God's authority, not someone with independent authority of his own. The ruler is also charged to perform as God's servant, something that we are not permitted to do as individuals, in executing vengeance on wrongdoers. Paul explicitly taught that Christians should not avenge themselves, but here teaches that the authorities can minister God's vengeance.

We might again recall Genesis 9, verses 5-6. Beyond our need to subject ourselves to the authorities to avoid the wrath of God that the authorities minister then, we must also subject ourselves out of a conscientious recognition of them as God's servants. When we encounter authorities, we should render them their due honour, also acting towards them in ways that will sustain their authority, through the payment of taxes and rendering of respect and honour.

We don't get to bargain about taxes, or to decide what we think that they should be expended on. Rather, we pay authorities the tribute that we are obligated to give them. Just as we don't get to pick and choose what taxes we pay, we don't get to pick and choose what laws we obey.

We respect the authorities as servants of God and ministers of the good of society. This doesn't mean that they are always good servants. However, even a bad servant is due some honour and recognition on account of his master who has commissioned him and not yet removed him from his office.

Paul now declares, Owe no one anything. Peter Lightheart observes of this. That does not mean, as it might seem, do not become a recipient of benefits.

Paul knows that everyone is needy, dependent on God, and on others for almost anything. No debts means that benefits are always finely referred to a single divine patron. In the community of Jesus, the only debt is the debt of love.

Thanks is owed, but it is owed for, rather than to, benefactors. Recipients of gifts are not indebted to the givers. They do not owe return payment.

Givers do not impose burdens of gratitude on their beneficiaries. They cannot use their gifts to lord over recipients. The father and his son cover all debts, supplying all needs according to their riches.

Such teaching undermines the structures of patronage and clientage, which were essential to many structures of rule and social power in the ancient world. Once again, Paul is subtly, yet radically reconfiguring people's relationship with authorities. The authorities are not removed, but they are demythologised, humbled and stripped of their presumed capacity to impose obligations that once raised them up as masters, rather than as stewards and ministers of God's justice.

Lest we may have forgotten, which we definitely ought not to have done, that we are still reading the book of Romans, Paul now speaks of love as the fulfilment of the law. This is what it looks like for the righteous requirement of the law to be fulfilled in us as we live by the spirit. The law is all fulfilled in the command to love your neighbour as yourself.

This, we should note, is a central point in Jesus' own teaching concerning the law in such places as the Sermon on the Mount and elsewhere. It is also found elsewhere in the New Testament, in the teaching of James, for instance. The concluding verses of this chapter are perhaps most famous as those which occasion St. Augustine's conversion.

As in several other places in the New Testament, they present Christians as living at the time of the approaching dawn, something heralded by the advent of Christ. Christians must consequently live as people of the day, abandoning the works of darkness. As some commentators have observed, the behaviours he lists are those behaviours typically encountered in the night time, with drunkenness, sexual immorality and brawling.

The alternative to these is to put on the armour of light and the Lord Jesus Christ, something that Paul has associated with baptism in Galatians 3.27. Baptism is like donning armour that will protect us against Satan's assaults. Whenever we are tempted by the insobriety and the iniquity of the night, we must recall that we have been marked out by God's promise as children of the light and we must turn to him for deliverance. A question to consider.

What are some of the ways in which Paul's teaching here frees Christians in their relationship to the law, in their relationship to others and in their relationship to the authorities?