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Modern English edition · 1669 AD

The Sinfulness of Sin

by Ralph Venning

Venning's searching anatomy of sin in all its malignity. A powerful exposure of sin's true nature, showing it to be the plague of plagues.

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About this book

The Sinfulness of Sin is Ralph Venning's devastating exposé of sin in all its malignant horror. Originally titled "Sin, the Plague of Plagues," this treatise was written in the aftermath of the Great Plague of London, using that catastrophe as a backdrop to examine a far deadlier pestilence: the sin that corrupts every human soul.

Venning's purpose is to strip away every disguise sin wears and reveal it in its true colors—or rather, as he puts it, "in its dead and deadly colors." Taking Romans 7:13 as his text, he demonstrates that sin is not merely sinful but "exceedingly sinful," a thing so profoundly evil that it turns even good things into instruments of death.

The treatise systematically examines what sin is, what its sinfulness consists of, what evidence proves the indictment against it, and what practical application we should make of this doctrine. Venning shows that understanding sin's true nature is essential for marveling at God's grace, believing in Christ, hating sin, repenting of it, and loving holiness.

Throughout the work, Venning writes with characteristic Puritan clarity and force. His style is plain and direct—he explicitly rejects ornate rhetoric that might distract from his message. Yet his prose pulses with moral intensity as he presses home the reality that sin is worse than the devil himself and leads nowhere but to hell.

For any reader who has grown complacent about sin or who needs fresh motivation to pursue holiness, Venning's Sinfulness of Sin remains a powerful and necessary corrective—a work that exposes sin's true face and drives us to the only refuge from its deadly power.

Preface

The Christian religion not only exposes us to suffering but also prepares us for it, just as it prepares us for glory. The all-wise God has arranged things so that while we remain on this side of the grave, we must exercise certain graces that both assume suffering and prepare us for glory. These graces operate and continue only in this world. In fact, they would never have existed at all if sin had not entered the world. I'm speaking of graces like faith, repentance, hope, and patience. We would have no need for faith to obtain righteousness if we had not lost our own. We would have no need or occasion for repentance if we had remained innocent. There would be no room for hope, since we would have enjoyed continuous sight, enjoyment, and possession of happiness if we had not sinned. And there would be no use or exercise of patience when there was no suffering, and there would have been no suffering if there had been no sin. The state of innocence (before sin existed) was in the next degree like the state of glory (when sin will be no more), and that state excludes these and similar things. For then sorrow and sighing will flee away, and all tears will be wiped from their eyes. Then faith will be turned into vision, and hope into fulfillment. Suffering (and consequently patience) will come to an end, at least for good and holy people.

Understanding just how deeply sinful sin really is can be incredibly useful for developing, exercising, and perfecting these spiritual qualities. This knowledge serves multiple purposes: it helps us suffer well, as Christ Jesus did (1 Pet 2:19-23), and make the choice Moses made (Heb 11:25), rather than the one Job was accused of making (Job 36:21). But there's an even more fundamental reason. If we're ever going to be saved, we must practice these spiritual qualities, and we can't truly do that until sin appears to us as it did to Paul: something profoundly sinful, deceitful, and destructive.

Here's the reality: sinners aren't likely to wake up to this truth until the commandment comes to them (as it came to the apostle) and reveals sin for what it is. But once people are awakened and converted, this same revelation powerfully compels them to marvel at God's love and mercy, and to offer Him endless gratitude for their deliverance and salvation from sin. I discuss the usefulness of this doctrine more thoroughly in the treatise itself, so I won't elaborate further on it here.

Regarding the book itself, I have only a few things to say. I began this treatise and nearly finished it before the recent terrible plague struck. Although I've chosen to give it a name that references that disaster (as a memorial), the book isn't specifically focused on the plague alone. Instead, it takes a broader view of the universal damage that sin has inflicted on humanity: affecting both soul and body, time and eternity. Sin is the root of all evil, whether physical, spiritual, or eternal.

Still, we should reflect on that sweeping broom of destruction and the dreadful fire from heaven (or hell, or in various ways from both) that later consumed the buildings just as the plague had consumed the inhabitants before. I fear both events are already too easily forgotten. We need to consider God's hand raised in judgment, take it to heart, confess our sin, and give Him glory. Though God remembered mercy in the midst of judgment, we should remember judgment in the midst of mercy. Both should lead us to repentance.

Otherwise, even though the plague has passed and that fire no longer burns, if the plague in our hearts and our burning lusts (our sins) continue, we remain far from health and safety. If after such deliverances we go on sinning as though we were delivered only to do nothing else, or to speak as Ezra does: "After all that has come upon us for our evil deeds and our great guilt, seeing that God has punished us less than our sins deserved and has given us such deliverance as this, should we again break His commandments and join with people who practice such abominations? Would He not be angry with us until He consumed us, so that there would be no remnant or survivors left? Then the fire of His wrath might burn to the lowest hell, and we might burn there with it" (Ezra 9:13-14).

Let us hear and fear, and stop acting so wickedly (Deut 13:11). Sin is so notoriously, excessively, and intolerably evil that just as it is now the disgrace of any people, it will later be their ruin if they don't repent. And what is impenitence? It's nothing less than storing up sin and wrath together, growing rich in both (Rom 2:4-9). And what is that but being abundantly damned?

I'm well aware that several godly and learned men have already written on this subject, but that doesn't discourage their successors from doing the same. After all, it didn't stop Luke from writing his Gospel even though others had written before him (Luke 1:1-3). In fact, what are the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John but the same Gospel presented with slight variations?

The apostle Peter wrote about the same things Paul had covered (2 Pet 3:15), and both of them wrote about the same subjects repeatedly (Phil 3:1; 2 Pet 1:12-13). Jude, the brother of James (Jude 1), either copied or at least summarized a large portion of Peter's second letter, almost word for word (nearly *in terminis et verbatim*). I recall Augustine somewhere advising that the same truths should be published by different authors so that, through their various connections, relationships, and influence in the world, these truths can reach more people who might otherwise never encounter them.

Besides, as Ausonius tells us, *unus plus alio invenire potest, nemo omnia* (one person can discover more than another, but no one can find or express everything). This is profoundly true. The commands and truths contained in Scripture are so extraordinarily vast that they surpass all other writings. Therefore, while I don't think it's any disgrace to admit that I've read other authors and learned from them, I can say without vanity or boasting that I've not only approached this subject differently but also addressed matters that I haven't found in any other work I've encountered. And I have no doubt that much more could be said than what I, or anyone else who has written on this theme, has managed to express.

Regarding the sinfulness of sin (the subject of this treatise), I have indeed dealt with it most extensively as it relates to humanity's good and happiness, since that is most properly the intent and scope of the text. God is so gracious that He is pleased to approach people as self-interested beings, and thus to gain and win them through their own advantages. In fact, He seems by His patience to care more about humanity's salvation than His own vindication in this world, as the apostle leads us to believe (2 Pet 3:9). And truly, this condescension, self-denial, and humbling of Himself is such a great and rich goodness that it most powerfully leads and draws us to repentance (Rom 2:4).

Regarding style, I haven't worried about being fancy. I still believe what I've always thought: eloquence actually hurts the message when it draws attention to itself. Words exist only to serve the content, and they should help rather than hinder what we're trying to communicate. As a learned and eloquent writer once put it, fine expressions are like the gaudy, gilded frame of a mirror. The frame doesn't show us our faces and features (which is what a mirror is actually for). In fact, the richness of the frame often distracts and dazzles childish people so much that they ignore everything else. Rhetoric diverts people from paying attention to the more important, instructive parts of a discourse. Many who claim to be critics use sermons and good books for nothing more than critiquing or praising the structure and phrasing, without paying attention to the doctrine or bothering to correct what they've discovered to be wrong in themselves.

It's no compliment to a preacher if he cares more about crafting his expressions than about making his hearers good. We can't flatter sinners. We should try to make them condemn themselves rather than applaud us. A good minister will find more joy in hearing people sigh over their sins than in hearing them praise his sermon, and he'll be happier when they follow his counsel than when they admire his language. We shouldn't speak against sin to show off our skill at declaiming or our ability to speak eloquently, but to exercise our own hatred against it and to provoke others to express theirs. Even when the best people do their absolute best, I'm afraid there will still be too many who read pious books with less reverence and concern than they'd give a romance novel or a play. They care more about the rhetoric than the divinity, more about the wit than the worth (in other words, the shadow rather than the substance) of what they're reading. As that same excellent person put it so well: if a devotional book doesn't have plenty of witty passages, some readers won't pay attention to it at all, and if it does have them, they won't pay attention to anything else. Experience confirms this.

But whatever readers this book finds, I've tried to make it profitable (and in that way pleasing) to them. I hope they'll find nothing worthy of their displeasure except the thing I'm writing against. I've committed it to God and asked for His blessing, that it may be useful in teaching people to profit in the future from what they've lost so far, and to gain something by reading what they could never gain by committing sin.

But I won't keep you much longer. I urge you to remember that this world is nothing but a glittering, pompous vanity, something that passes with use and won't reach beyond the grave. Perhaps it won't even last that long, for its lust and fashion pass away. Yes, they take wings and fly away. Remember that sin leads nowhere but to hell, the place and element of torment. Remember that before long, death will arrest you and carry your body to the dust and dungeon of the grave, and (if you die in your sins) your soul to hell and damnation. I urge you, therefore, to exercise yourself in the power of godliness, and don't live as if the practice of piety were nothing but a book with that title. What good is it to have religion in your Bible, in your head and on your tongue, yet have none in your heart and life? Just think about what you will say or do when you come to judgment, as Solomon tells the young man (Eccl 11:9). Take the course you can own and justify on that day, and do what you will. Then I'm sure you won't dare to do anything but what you should, for who can answer for one sin out of a thousand, or even for just one sin?

As for any of them (still alive) who were hearers and will now be readers of what's contained in the following treatise, let me tell them that they have it double: precept upon precept and line upon line. God seems to send it to them a second time so that it may do more good for them than it did at first, so that the repetition and calling of it to remembrance may do more than the preaching of it did. Though I know, blessed be God, that it wasn't delivered and heard without good effects on many, and I hope on more than I know of. That God may be glorified and the readers may profit by it is much my prayer, as it will be much the joy and rejoicing of my soul, whatever judgments may be passed on me.

Ralph Venning.

Introduction: Sin, The Plague of Plagues

*“Was then that which is good made death unto me? God forbid. But sin, that it might appear sin, working death in me by that which is good; that sin by the commandment might become exceeding sinful.”* - Romans 7:13

Since I'm going to discuss the extreme sinfulness of sin, it's not only helpful but necessary that I first establish these foundational points:

(1) God made all things very good (Gen 1:31). Everything was endowed with the perfections appropriate to its nature, so that none of them could find fault with God or complain that He had shortchanged them or made them defective.

(2) Yet of all these creatures, the two most eminent and principal orders quickly fell from grace. Some of the angels sinned and did not keep their original position but abandoned their proper dwelling (Jude 6). And by yielding to their subtle and envious temptations, Adam (who represented all humanity) also sinned (Gen 3). Thus through one man sin entered the world, and death through sin, and so death spread to all people because all sinned (Rom 5:13). And

(3) As for the angels who fell, God left them without hope of recovery, for "God did not spare the angels who sinned, but cast them into hell" (2 Pet 2:4), and "has kept them in everlasting chains under darkness for the judgment of the great day" (Jude 6). Christ Jesus the Mediator and Redeemer did not take on the nature of angels, or (as the margin reads) does not take hold of angels (Heb 2:16). But it pleased God to show mercy to humanity. His saving grace and loving-kindness appeared to humanity (Titus 2:11), and that in Christ Jesus (Titus 3:4), whose delight was with the sons of men in the inhabited parts of the earth (Prov 8:31). Therefore He took on the seed of Abraham (Heb 2:16).

(4) This doctrine of God our Savior, or the gospel message, assumes that humanity is sinful: "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of the best and fullest acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world (on this very mission and purpose) to save sinners" (1 Tim 1:15). The doctrine of repentance likewise assumes that humanity has done wrong (Matt 9:13). The doctrine of faith in another for righteousness and hope concludes that humanity is without righteousness and hope in itself (Eph 2:12, 13). And the purpose of Christ's sending the Holy Spirit was that He might first and foremost convict people of sin (John 16:8).

Given the context and other considerations, it becomes incredibly valuable to show people what sin really is: how profoundly vile, how fatally destructive, and therefore how monstrously ugly and hateful a thing sin truly is. By doing this, we make way for several crucial things: (1) Marveling at God's free and abundant grace. (2) Believing in our Lord Jesus Christ. (3) Defending God's holy, just, and good Law, along with His condemnation of sinners for breaking it. (4) Hating sin, repenting of it and from it, and thereby taking holy, just, and good revenge on both it and ourselves. (5) Loving and serving God at a higher level than we ever did, even in the brief time of innocence itself. And finally, this dark stain can serve as a backdrop to highlight the wonderful, incomparable, and transcendent beauty of holiness.

Now to the text itself, which could be titled: The Just Vindication of God's Law, and the Equally Just Accusation and Condemnation of Human Sin. As for its connection to what comes before, here's how it works: in verse 10, the apostle said that the commandment which was meant to bring life, he found to bring death instead. This raises an objection in verse 13: Since the commandment is good, how does it lead to death? Was something good made into death for me? He answers this in two ways: (1) By denial and horror: "God forbid!" (*absit*) Far be it from me or anyone else to think such a thing! No, absolutely not! To find fault with the Law would be to find fault with God. The Law is not to blame. What is, then? Something must be to blame. To this he answers: (2) By affirmation and accusation: sin is the true cause of death. The commandment does condemn, or bring death to humanity, not because of anything inherent in itself, but because of sin. And through this, sin appears (not only like itself, but as itself): sin, yes sinful, yes exceedingly sinful sin. Not in disguise, as when it's committed, but in its own vivid colors, or (more accurately) in its dead and deadly colors.

The apostle calls it *hamartia*, sin in the abstract, and he repeats it twice (just as Pharaoh's dream was repeated) to emphasize the certainty and seriousness of the matter. It's sin, it's sin, and this sin is *hamartolos*, sinful, or a sinner: nothing but sinning and sinful sin. It's masculinely and vigorously sinful. Erasmus concluded that this combination of masculine and feminine forms was simply the Attic dialect, but others think Paul is personifying sin itself, giving it a character and personality. We see this in verses 17 and 20: "It is not I but sin," as if sin were a person. Alternatively, we might read it as Faius does: the *hamartolos*, the sinner, becomes sin itself (in the same sense as the objection in verse 7, "Is the Law sin?"), meaning criminal and guilty.

However we interpret it, one thing is certain: this language points to the malignant, pestilent, and destructive nature and operation of sin. Sin's own name is the worst label that can be given to it. Yet, as if that weren't strong enough, Paul adds *kath hyperbolen*, which Erasmus translates as "beyond measure," Beza as "to the highest degree," and Grotius as "eminently." It means exceeding, above measure, excessively, or in the highest degree, because a hyperbole represents an extraordinary and extreme form of expression. As the Arabic version puts it, it's "surpassing excess." It's extremely sinful, and indeed, beyond all expression sinful.

Let me illustrate the overall point with a familiar example. Imagine a criminal saying to the judge: "My Lord, how cruelly unmerciful you are to condemn me to death!" The judge replies, "It's not me, it's the law. I'm just the mouth of the law." The law responds, "It's not me, it's sin. If you hadn't sinned, I wouldn't have condemned you, because the law isn't against the righteous" (1 Tim 1:9). No, against such people there is no law, no condemnation from it (Gal 5:28). You can see in me, as in a mirror, what a deadly, destructive, killing thing your sin is. Every mouth must be stopped. There's no room for complaint against God or His law, because you (like everyone else) have become guilty, fallen short of the glory, and become subject to the judgment of God (Rom 3:19, 23). Through the commandment, sin appears to be a desperate, malignant thing: the proper, true, and only cause of man's condemnation and death.

From this brief yet clear account of the text and its context, the following truths emerge.

1. The law of God, in whole and in every part, is good. It's not only free from sin (that is, not culpable or criminal, as verse 7 shows), not only holy and just (verse 12), not only spiritual (verse 14), but good (verses 12 and 13). It's good not only in itself, but also in its purpose and institution with respect to humanity, for it was ordained to life (verse 10). Yet

2. This good law, when transgressed, delivers man over to death. Patience, that temperate and harmless quality, turns to rage and fury when abused. In the same way, the law (though good) condemns and kills when abused.

But 3. Though the law condemns man's fault, and condemns man for his fault, the law is still good and is not to blame, nor should it be blamed. The law is as good as it ever was. Man should justify the law even when it condemns him. Just as man had no reason to break the law, he has no reason to find fault with the law, even though it binds men over to death for breaking it. For

4. It's not the Law but sin that brings about our death and ruin. Sin aims at nothing less than this, and (unless grace intervenes) it will end in nothing less. After all, the end and wages of sin is death (Rom 6:21, 22).

5. Yet sin (it's true) brings about our death and destruction through something good: the Law itself. After sin has used us to break the Law, it uses the Law to break us, to destroy us through condemnation and death. And

6. Sin is therefore exceedingly sinful and wicked, immeasurably spiteful, poisonous, and destructive, because it kills people. Not only that, but it kills them through what is good, through what was given to humanity for life. It turns food into poison. As Clarius puts it, "so that we might recognize how criminal this sin is, and what a pestilent thing it is, when through the commandment, a thing meant for salvation, it pours out its venom" (*ut agnoscatur quam sceleratus peccator sit hoc peccatum, & quam pestisera res, dum per mandatum, rem salutiferam, exserit virus suum*). This is like the horrible and cursed wickedness our histories tell us about: poisoning a man, even a king, through the Cup of Blessing.

7. Finally, sin appears through the Commandment to be excessively sinful. As Zegerus says, "so that it might be evident how destructive, how serious, how criminal sin itself is" (*Ut evidens sit quam perniciosum, quam grave, quam scelestum sit ipsum peccatum*). If we look at this through the magnifying glass of the Law, it appears as the most hideous, devilish, and hellish thing imaginable: the most wicked, villainous, mischievous, virulent, and deadly thing that ever existed. Sinful sin! Worse than the Devil! And more on this later.

I can't pursue each of these points separately right now, because I'll have plenty of opportunity to address every one of them when I examine the sinfulness of sin. In relation to this, I intend to follow this method and demonstrate:

1. What sin is: the thing so much and so deservedly spoken of with contempt, something no one can speak well of unless they speak ill of it. Those who speak the worst of sin speak best.

2. What the sinfulness of sin especially consists of, and in doing so, I'll lay open not only its effects but also its nature.

3. What evidence exists to prove this indictment and charge against sin: that it is as vile and abominable, as sinful as the apostle calls it.

4. What use and application we should make of the doctrine of sin's excessive sinfulness.

Portrait of Ralph Venning

About the author

Ralph Venning

Ralph Venning (1621-1674) was an English Puritan minister and author. Educated at Emmanuel College, Cambridge, he became a popular London preacher known for his practical and searching ministry. Ejected from his pulpit in 1662 for nonconformity, he continued to minister as opportunity allowed until his death. His works include Orthodox Paradoxes, Mysteries and Revelations, and most famously, The Sinfulness of Sin (originally titled "Sin, the Plague of Plagues"). Venning's writing is marked by moral earnestness, clear reasoning, and a passionate concern to awaken souls to the reality of sin and the beauty of holiness.

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