Following Pastor David Jang’s exposition of Romans 3:9–20, we deeply meditate on total depravity, the limits of the Law, salvation by the grace of Jesus Christ, and the path of repentance.
The message Pastor David
Jang (Olivet University) proclaims while holding fast to Romans 3:9–20 quietly
dismantles self-assurance dressed in religious language and forces us to face
the bedrock of the human condition. Paul breaks down the boundaries of the
community with the declaration: “both Jews and Greeks are all under sin.” No
matter how different one’s lineage, culture, religious tradition, or moral
training may be, there is no exception to the reality of living under the
dominion of sin. Pastor David Jang returns this point not as a mere doctrinal
conclusion, but as a question of conscience the church today must ask itself:
“Are we any better?” Paul’s counter-question kicks away the ladder of
self-justification believers often cling to, revealing that the starting point
of salvation is not “how well I have done,” but acknowledging “how thoroughly I
am broken.” This acknowledgment is not despair for despair’s sake, but a
recovery of spiritual sight that enables grace to be recognized as grace.
In Romans 1 and 2, Paul
exposes two different faces: the licentiousness of the Gentiles and the
hypocrisy of the Jews. Then in chapter 3 he binds them together and “stops
every mouth.” The phrase “stop every mouth” is as sharp as a theological blade
that ends the debate. The moment we believe we can argue our case before God,
faith easily turns into self-defense. But Paul’s argument leaves no room for
human claims of innocence. Following Paul’s flow, Pastor David Jang urges us
not to forget that even the saved—though already declared righteous—still fight
the remnants of sin in the “already” and “not yet.” Paul’s cry at the end of
Romans 7—“Wretched man that I am!”—testifies that the journey of sanctification
is not optimistic self-improvement, but spiritual warfare in which we daily
admit our powerlessness and seek Christ’s strength. Therefore, treating sin
lightly is not maturity; it is a dangerous complacency that numbs the soul’s
sensitivity.
Paul’s method of stringing
together Old Testament quotations aligns with his purpose: to testify that
human sin is not a personal accident but a universal human condition. When
Psalm 14 and 53 lament, “There is none righteous, not even one,” Ecclesiastes
7:20 declares, “Surely there is not a righteous man on earth who does good and
never sins,” and the prophets’ incisive indictments are threaded like pearls
into a single line, sin is revealed not as a stigma placed on a particular
group but as an existential disease running through every human being. Pastor
David Jang explains that we must not consume this list as moralistic
condemnation; rather, we should see it as “the collapse of relationship” that
arises from humanity’s fundamental refusal to keep God at the center. The core
of sin is not merely breaking rules, but an inward rebellion that severs the
inseparable relationship with God and enthrones the self as lord. Romans
1:28—“they did not see fit to acknowledge God”—exposes that sin is tied less to
a lack of knowledge and more deeply to a warped will.
That warped will first
moves in the layers of thought and desire, and soon spills into language.
“Their throat is an open grave” shows that the tongue is not only a tool for
communication but a channel that discharges the soul’s condition. This is why
Pastor David Jang draws in James 3 to emphasize the danger of the tongue. The
warning that a small member can become a spark that sets an entire life on fire
is even clearer in today’s digital language environment. A word once spoken, a
single comment posted, a rumor casually forwarded can collapse relationships
and burn down a community’s trust. When Paul says, “The poison of asps is under
their lips,” he is not only pointing to profanity or slander; he is exposing a
chain of sin in which a heart that does not fear God ultimately flows into
speech that destroys others. Pastor David Jang says that for a believer’s words
to become a channel of the gospel, the master of the heart must first change.
What is needed is not a technique for controlling the tongue, but a
reorientation of the heart that moves the tongue.
Heart and speech
eventually determine the direction of one’s steps. “Their feet are swift to
shed blood; in their paths are ruin and misery” is not mere exaggeration but a
compressed diagnosis of the trajectory of life apart from God. Here “path” is
not a route stumbled upon by accident; it is the direction a life takes as
repeated choices accumulate. Pastor David Jang points out the irony that human
beings often hesitate to do good yet move with astonishing speed toward what
bends toward sin. That irony goes beyond psychology and demonstrates the truth
that humans cannot save themselves. If we look seriously at the “path,” we
realize sin is not an isolated incident but the outcome produced by a worldview
without God. In the end, ruin is not an external storm; it is the destination
where an inner order that has excluded God reaches completion.
At this point, Pastor
David Jang stresses the weight of the phrase: “There is no fear of God before
their eyes.” Fear here is not terror but reverence, and reverence is the
posture of placing God’s reality at the center of life. Where reverence
disappears, both the pride of those who have the Law and the license of those
who do not can grow together. Paul’s binding of all humanity under sin is not
rhetoric aimed at attacking a religious group, but preparatory work for the
gospel—so that no one can claim self-righteousness. “So that every mouth may be
stopped, and the whole world may be held accountable to God” declares plainly
that humans possess no internal resources by which to rescue themselves before
God. Techniques for hiding sin keep advancing, but the power to remove sin does
not belong to humans.
Thus, even as Paul deals
with the Law, he draws a firm line against misunderstanding the Law as a tool
of salvation. The Law is God’s gift, but it is more like a scalpel. A scalpel
can expose and cut out disease, but it cannot create life by itself. “Through
the law comes knowledge of sin” means the Law can identify the illness, but it
cannot provide the ultimate power to heal. Pastor David Jang, without
belittling the Law’s value, warns that the hand that clings to the Law can
easily mutate into a hand that clings to self-righteousness. Rules may correct
a person to a certain degree, but they cannot remake a heart that has departed
from God. The paradox Paul experienced in Romans 7—“the more I know, the more
sin comes alive”—shows that strengthening legal codes is not identical to
transforming the soul.
When we face the reality
of sin and the limits of the Law this directly, the sentences of the gospel
begin to sound not like abstract comfort but like urgent news of life. When
Paul proclaims in Romans 3:21, “But now the righteousness of God has been manifested
apart from the law,” he ends the myth of self-salvation humanity has clung to
for ages and reveals a different way God has prepared. Pastor David Jang
repeatedly calls grace a free gift because if we do not see the depth of sin,
we will also cheapen the depth of grace. Grace is not built on minimizing sin.
Rather, the more sin is seen as sin, the more Christ’s cross approaches us not
as a mere religious symbol but as God’s power that changes reality.
Pastor David Jang explains
salvation within the redemptive flow of justification, sanctification, and
glorification, and says the spiritual posture believers need is not “the pose
of a completed person,” but “the humility of one who washes daily.” The phrase
“we must wash the garments of sin” is not language meant to cultivate excessive
self-loathing; it is a practical metaphor: since salvation is the restoration
of relationship, we must daily remove the stains of sin that blur that
relationship. The blessing of Revelation 22:14—“Blessed are those who wash
their robes”—is not a prize for flawless people, but a promise set on the path
of those who live clinging to Christ’s blood through repentance and faith.
Pastor David Jang warns that a mood of “We were saved once, so let’s stop
talking about sin” can dull spiritual sensitivity and cause grace to be
mistaken for license. Grace is not a permit to treat sin as trivial; it is the
birth of a new heart that comes to hate sin.
The story of Noah in
Genesis vividly reflects this tension. The record that Noah—saved through the
flood judgment—later became drunk on wine and exposed his naked shame shows
that an experience of salvation is not proof that human nature has been completely
erased. Even after salvation, humans remain weak, and complacency can lead
again to disgrace. Pastor David Jang reads from Ham’s attitude of mocking Noah
that sin is not only outward behavior but can appear as inner pride and scorn.
The moment we build our own righteousness by looking at another’s weakness, we
unknowingly sit down in the judge’s seat. But the gospel does not make people
into judges; it makes them into people of forgiveness and covering. Paul’s
sentences that accuse humanity under sin are, in the end, an introduction meant
to invite sinners into salvation; in that sense, Noah’s episode testifies how
much life after salvation still contains the ongoing necessity of repentance.
In addition, the prophecy
in Jacob’s blessing to Judah—“washing his garments in wine”—connects naturally
to Pastor David Jang’s emphasis on a theology of “holy washing.” When wine
expands into an image of blood, New Testament readers are drawn to the blood of
Christ. This connection is not an arbitrary manipulation of symbols, but can be
understood within the atonement context the whole Bible consistently proclaims.
Because sin is a deep contamination that cannot be handled merely as a list of
behaviors, that contamination cannot be washed away by human water but only by
God’s shedding of blood—here the heart of the gospel is revealed. Pastor David
Jang says believers must repent daily like people washing garments, holding
themselves up to Scripture and the Holy Spirit; and he interprets this practice
not as self-hatred but as a response of love. Those who have been loved fear
betraying love, guard against losing love, and desire to return again to the
place of love.
The parable of the
prodigal son in Luke translates the warning “in their paths are ruin and
misery” in the most human way. The son who left his father’s house believing he
had gained freedom ultimately smells the stench of the pigsty at the end of the
path he chose. Freedom was not found in severing relationship, and life was not
in the display of independence but in the abundance enjoyed within the father’s
embrace. Pastor David Jang connects the prodigal’s story to Romans’ doctrine of
sin because sin does not always drag a person instantly into hell; rather, it
first desolates the heart, drains relationships, and slowly gnaws away at one’s
dignity until ruin is complete. Yet the prodigal story also shows the gospel’s
reversal. The way back is not opened by human qualification. When the father
runs, kisses, and declares the lost son a son again, grace surpasses conditions
and creates a new relationship.
By contrast, the parable
of the rich man and Lazarus exposes how cruelly sin can numb a human being. The
rich man, amid the abundance of feasting, could not see the suffering at his
gate; after death he begs for a single drop of water while his tongue burns in
thirst. Pastor David Jang rereads the symbolism of the tongue in this scene. A
life that consumed the world with the tongue, evaluated people with the tongue,
and justified desire with the tongue comes to face the truth of its life
through the suffering of the tongue—showing that this parable asks about the
soul’s direction beyond mere “speech ethics.” James 3’s warning that “the
tongue is a fire” intersects with the rich man’s depiction of torment,
reminding us that language is not only psychological habit but is connected to
spiritual reality. Pastor David Jang says a believer’s tongue must be
transformed from curses and malice into comfort, truth, and the good news of
the gospel. The change of the tongue proves a change of heart, and the change of
heart is revealed as the restoration of fearing God—that is, reverence.
Here, “ruin and misery”
does not mean only visible failure or economic hardship. Pastor David Jang
emphasizes spiritual ruin—fundamental suffering that comes from separation from
God. Modern people often understand “pain” primarily as an emotional issue, but
in biblical language pain often points to a condition in which the foundation
of existence is shaken. A soul that has left God tries to manufacture meaning
on its own, but the capacity to produce meaning inevitably crashes into the
limits of finite desire and time. So people attempt to cover emptiness with
greater achievement and stronger stimulation, yet at the end of that path what
remains is often deeper exhaustion and harder loneliness. Paul describes that
path as “ruin and misery” because while sin can dress life in glamorous
packaging, it ultimately pulls humans in the direction of separation from life.
As a scene that
illuminates this theme more clearly, we might recall Rembrandt’s famous
painting The Return of the Prodigal Son. In the painting, the son
collapses before his father in rags, with torn shoes and wounded feet, and the
father embraces the son’s shoulders with aged hands. Against a dark background,
what shines most brightly is not the son’s dignity, but the father’s embrace.
This work shows that repentance is not the abandonment of self-worth, but the
act of receiving again the reality of love. Pastor David Jang’s exhortation to
“wash the garments of sin” can be understood as the practice of returning
toward that father’s embrace. The reason the human path tilts toward ruin is
not that the father’s embrace is closed, but that the son has been away. The
gospel does not describe that departure only as condemnation; it rewrites it as
the possibility of return—and at the center of that possibility stands the
cross of Christ.
When Paul declares, in
speaking of the Law, that “by works of the law no human being will be
justified,” he does not ridicule human effort as worthless. Rather, he
precisely defines its limits. Human moral will can be beneficial for
maintaining society, but it cannot remove the root of sin before God. Pastor
David Jang cautions against using “reason” or “ethics” as grounds for
salvation, without underestimating their proper role. The moment faith is
reduced to ethics, the gospel becomes not the proclamation of new life but a
program of self-management. But the salvation Paul proclaims is an event in
which “the righteousness of God” is imputed by faith—and it is established not
by a list of human achievements but by the merit of Christ’s cross. This logic
of grace removes boasting and produces gratitude and humility.
That gratitude does not
lead to escapism but becomes power for transforming reality. Pastor David Jang
emphasizes that believers who have been saved do not live on an isolated
spiritual island cut off from the world; rather, they must walk in the very center
of the world with deeper responsibility. His exhortation—to let the tongue
carry the joyful news of the gospel, to let the feet move toward places of
service, and to lift the eyes to God-given vision—shows that Romans 3’s
doctrine of sin should not end as cold human criticism, but must lead into a
new ethic of life. The truth that indicts humanity under sin carries the
purpose of establishing humanity under grace. The reason believers daily
acknowledge their sin is not to remain in self-deprecation, but because that
acknowledgment makes them put down stones of condemnation and extend the
gospel’s hand to the weak.
Ultimately, the most
important question Romans 3:9–20 leaves us is: “What path am I standing on?”
Paul describes the path as the total corruption of the whole person. When the
heart rejects God, the tongue pours out poison, and the feet run toward violence
and greed, the end of that path is ruin and misery. But that same Paul
immediately presents the gospel path by which one can turn back. Pastor David
Jang reads this transition as the rhythm of the gospel: the deeper the
diagnosis of sin, the clearer the grace of healing; the more vivid human
powerlessness becomes, the more real Christ’s power becomes. Therefore, faith
should not be the declaration “I’m fine,” but the prayer, “Lord, have mercy on
me.”
To today’s reader, this
message may sound unfamiliar. In an age that prizes self-esteem and
self-actualization, the language of “total depravity” can seem harsh and
pessimistic. Yet what Pastor David Jang means by total depravity is not the
denial of human value, but the diagnosis that self-salvation is impossible. It
is not meant to make people worthless, but to guide them back to true worth.
Human value does not come from the ability to save oneself; it comes from the
fact that God loved that person. Sin cannot be explained only as ignorance that
does not know that love; it also appears as rebellion of the will that refuses
that love. Therefore, repentance is not merely emotional regret, but the
decision to change masters—an actual turn to place God in the heart again.
Pastor David Jang’s
repeated phrase “we must wash daily” ultimately asks how the gospel operates in
daily life. When religious habits inside the church become the whole of faith,
people unconsciously stockpile legalistic comparison and self-righteousness.
But the gospel pulls a person out of the warehouse of self-merit and leads them
to the spring of grace. At that spring, believers do not hide sin in shame;
they bring it into the light, are washed, and receive strength to walk again.
This repetition is not monotonous compulsion but the rhythm of love that keeps
relationship fresh. A life of washing the garments of sin is, in other words, a
life of becoming honest before God, humble before others, and not losing hope
before the world.
In the end, the
declaration of Romans 3:9–20 is not exposure meant to destroy humanity, but
truth meant to bring humanity to life. “None is righteous, not even one” is not
the end; rather, on the rubble of self-righteousness that sentence ends, “the
righteousness of God apart from the law” is established. What Pastor David
Jang’s preaching consistently aims at is a balance that holds together both the
sobering realism that sin’s path truly leads to ruin and the gospel’s
possibility that one can turn back from that path. As the father runs out when
the prodigal returns, God approaches sinners first. Yet that approach is not a
pardon that says sin is not sin; it is an invitation of atoning blood that
washes sin and makes new. Therefore, even today believers rehearse Paul’s
question: “Are we any better?” When we bow our heads before that question,
Christ’s grace finally settles not above our heads as an idea, but in the
center of our hearts as reality. And that grace renews the tongue, changes the
steps, and lifts the eyes to see God.
Then the phrase “in their
paths are ruin and misery” is no longer a vague curse, but a signpost set up so
that the path can be reversed. What Pastor David Jang helps us grasp through
Romans 3 is the gospel’s dynamism: awareness of sin must connect immediately to
the experience of grace. When Adam and Eve in Genesis 3 fell to the temptation
of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil—“you can judge without
God”—humanity tried to become its own master, but gained instead a life of fear
and hiding. The Tower of Babel expanded that hiding in another form. They said
they were building a tower to reach God, but in reality it was an attempt to
make a name without God. Such repetition shows that the “pattern of sin” is not
only personal; it also repeats in civilization and culture. Thus, the doctrine
of sin in Romans 3 is not a moral handbook for one era, but a mirror that
reveals the common end any age reaches when human beings choose a self-centered
path.
Modern life may look more
refined and safe on the outside, yet in the secret places of the heart the
temptation “to not keep God at the center” still operates with sophisticated
precision. The more performance and image are deified, the more people learn
techniques to hide sin and languages to excuse it. As a result, relationships
grow weary, communities fracture easily, and hearts often become empty. When
Pastor David Jang tells us to examine our “tongue” and our “steps,” he is not
merely advising us to add more pious habits; he is inviting us to change
direction. When we honestly reflect—whether our tongue gives life, whether our
steps do not ignore the vulnerable, whether our eyes linger only at the display
window of desire, and above all whether our heart is open toward God—believers
see themselves not under legalistic self-accusation but in the light of grace.
In that light, repentance
is not demolition but restoration. When the prodigal confessed, “I have sinned
against my father,” he did not throw away his dignity; he grasped again the
source of the dignity he had lost. The way to avoid the cold-hearted numbness
warned about in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus also begins here. What
makes a person fail to see Lazarus at the gate is not wealth itself, but a
heart from which the fear of God has disappeared. Therefore, those who cling to
grace bear witness to the gospel through small practices today: apologizing
first in wounded relationships, not passing by someone’s lack, slowing the
speed of speech, putting down the knife of judgment, and honestly examining
desire before the Word. None of this ends with one decision; it repeats like
washing garments day by day. In that repetition, the blood of Christ Pastor
David Jang emphasizes is experienced not as magic that erases the past, but as
power that renews the present direction. Thus the life of one who walks the way
of grace becomes a pilgrimage uphill—falling yet rising again to return to the
Father’s embrace—leading to peace and hope. This is the gospel conclusion
Pastor David Jang draws up from Romans 3:9–20. Even today, we hold fast to
grace to the end and walk the path of repentance together in courageous faith.
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