It would be hard to overstate just how important this passage is. Romans 3:9-20 sums up everything Paul has been arguing since chapter 1 verse 18 — that the whole human race lacks righteousness and needs a righteousness that can only be found in Jesus Christ through the gospel. As J.C. Ryle wrote, "He must dig down very low if he would build high. A right knowledge of sin lies at the root of all saving Christianity." Paul's devastating conclusion can be compressed into eight words: Jews and Gentiles alike are all under sin. He pictures sin as a cruel slave master under whose power every human being lives — helpless, unable to escape. This is the diagnosis that makes the gospel make sense. Without it, the cure is meaningless.
The Universality of Sin (verses 9–12)
Paul substantiates his charge with a barrage of Old Testament quotations — a common rabbinic technique of stringing together texts to prove a point. He is particularly trying to persuade the Jews, because religious people are always the hardest to convince that they are under sin. It is not that hard to persuade someone living a flagrantly immoral lifestyle. But to persuade devout, religious people? That is the real challenge. So Paul quotes from their own beloved law and says: look, it is written right there.
Six times in three verses he hammers the same point: "There is no one righteous, not even one. There is no one who understands. There is no one who seeks God. All have turned away. They have together become worthless. There is no one who does good, not even one." Every single person here by nature, as we come into the world, left to ourselves, is under sin. Every person in Galway — from the youngest children to the oldest senior citizens, Roman Catholics and Muslims, Protestants and atheists, the richest man living in the most expensive house, the homeless beggar on the street, the woman with multiple degrees, the person who left school at sixteen with no qualifications — all alike under sin.
This matters because without it the gospel makes no sense. Why would we need a cure if we don't believe we are sick? And because this is true, the gospel is relevant to every single person in Galway, whether they know it, believe it, or have heard it. They all desperately need the message of salvation.
This teaching is also one of the most powerful proofs that Christianity is a religion revealed by God, not invented by human beings. Who would invent a religion so insulting to human pride? So counterintuitive? Every other religion in the world says, in one form or another, that you can save yourself — you may need more or less help from God, but basically you contribute something. Christianity uniquely says: you can do nothing to save yourself. God must do it all. That is what you would never expect from a man-made religion, and it is what sets Christianity apart from every other faith in the world.
The Pervasiveness of Sin (verses 13–18)
Sin does not just affect every person — it affects every part of every person. It is not a superficial rash that can be cleared up with a bit of ointment. It is an aggressive cancer that has metastasised into every organ. Theologians call this total depravity — not meaning that every person is as bad as they could possibly be (thanks to God's restraining grace, even Stalin and Hitler had some redeeming qualities), but that sin infects every dimension of our being: heart, mind, will, words, and actions.
The Mind (verse 11)
"There is no one who understands." Our minds are darkened by sin. The transmission from creation comes across flawlessly — "the heavens declare the glory of God" — but we, the receivers, garble it. We misunderstand God, ourselves, the meaning of life, right and wrong, eternity. This is why someone like Professor Brian Cox can study the universe and see breathtaking evidence of design and creative genius in the structure of the atom, and yet not believe. His mind is darkened. No one understands — not even a brilliant physicist.
The Will (verses 11–12)
"No one seeks God. All have turned away." We are not seeking after God — we are running from Him. We do not desire His righteousness. We resent the idea that we would have to spend a day a week out of our busy, important lives worshipping God and fellowshipping with His people.
Words (verses 13–14)
Jesus said that out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. Paul lists four organs of speech — throats, tongues, lips, mouths — to show that corrupt hearts inevitably produce words that deceive, poison, curse, and spread bitterness. If you were presented with a transcript of everything you have ever said, think how many cruel, hurtful things would be there. How many lies. How many times you spun the truth to your own advantage, puffed yourself up, put someone else down, gossiped, slandered, claimed credit for something someone else did. And think of all the things you should have said and didn't — times you ought to have defended someone and kept quiet out of fear, times you should have witnessed, encouraged, comforted, prayed.
Just listen to any random conversation. This week the Galway Advertiser reported an almighty row that broke out at the council over planning for a new town centre. We can imagine the kinds of things said in anger at that meeting — and these are the leaders of our city. Read the average social media comments trail, and it doesn't take long before it descends into abuse, malice, and spite. Rith was picking up one of the children from school the other day and had the audacity to stop and let someone out. The lady behind blared her horn, made rude gestures, and cursed her up and down — just an ordinary person going about her business. It doesn't take much. Scratch beneath the surface and this is what comes out.
Actions (verses 15–18)
"Their feet are swift to shed blood; ruin and misery mark their ways, and the way of peace they do not know." This describes not only terrorists and murderers at the extreme end, but the everyday reality of family conflict, workplace politicking, school bullying, neighbourhood disputes — all the anger and lust and envy and hatred seething beneath the surface of outwardly lovely people.
The Standard That Matters
Perhaps you are thinking this is over the top. You know genuinely good, kind, decent people. But usually when we call someone "good," we are measuring them against other people — and the bar is not set very high. God's standard of righteousness is not the average decent person in the street. It is His own infinite, pure holiness. If you were going in for an operation, it would not be enough that the surgeon is cleaner than the bin man. He doesn't just need a shower and a clean shirt. He must scrub for ten minutes, put on sterile gloves, gown, mask, and hair covering — because the standard for an operating theatre is in a whole other league. Similarly, someone might be a perfectly pleasant singer in a school musical, but that does not mean they will make it at the West End.
Remember Isaiah? One of the holiest men of his generation, brought face to face with God in a vision — and his response was, "Woe to me! I am undone!" Job was the holiest man in the world in his day (God's own assessment, not his), convinced that if he could just have a few minutes with God he could show he didn't deserve his suffering. Then the Lord appeared — and Job said, "Now my eyes have seen you. Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes." When we stop comparing ourselves to one another and start comparing ourselves to God, we realise just how pathetically unrighteous we are.
The Conviction of Sin (verses 19–20)
The picture is a courtroom. The prosecution has presented its evidence and there is nothing to say in defence. Every mouth is silenced. Imagine a man charged with assault while drunk — he has no memory and protests his innocence. Then the video footage is played, and he sees himself committing the crime in glorious technicolour. His mouth is stopped. He has no defence. That is where we stand by verse 19. No special pleading, no exemption, nobody can say "It's not my fault" or "I did my best" or "I was better than most people." We must all admit: God is right to be angry with me.
Verse 20: "Therefore no one will be declared righteous in God's sight by the works of the law. Rather, through the law we become conscious of our sin." The law is like an X-ray or an MRI scan. It reveals the problem — the broken bone, the tumour, its position and size. But it does nothing to cure you. You could have fifty X-rays and not be one bit better. The most devastating thing is when the doctor looks at the scan and says, "There is nothing we can do."
Is that what God says to us? Does He look at us and say there is no hope? No — because God is merciful and compassionate. We are about to come to the great turning point in Romans. Verse 21 begins with "But now" — and Paul is going to tell us about someone who is the only exception to these verses. Someone who stands outside this universal diagnosis, who has escaped the pervasive depravity of sin, who has kept the whole law perfectly — not for His own sake, but so that He can save anyone in the hopeless position Paul has been describing. Everything in this opening section of Romans has been designed to make us lose all hope in ourselves — but not to make us despair completely. It is preparing us for the good news: a righteousness from God, apart from the law, through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe.
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This article is part of our Romans sermon series. Listen to the previous sermon: Dealing with Debaters (Romans 3:1-8), or continue to the next: A Righteousness from God (Romans 3:21-26).
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