What It Is to Mortify a Sin

Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin. ROMANS 6:6

Having laid his foundations, Owen turns to the case that the rest of his book is written to answer. He describes it with care, and many readers have found it describes them exactly. Suppose, he says, a true believer finds in himself a powerful sin, leading him captive, filling his heart with trouble, weakening him in prayer, disturbing his peace and perhaps defiling his conscience. What is he to do? How is he to deal with this sin so that, even if it is not utterly destroyed, he may still keep strength and peace in his walk with God?

Before he gives directions, Owen stops to define terms, because a great deal of misery comes from mistaking what mortification is. He does it first negatively, then positively.

What it is not

It is not, first, the complete destruction of a sin in this life. That is what every honest Christian aims at, Owen says; he wants the sin never to stir again. But it is not to be expected on this side of glory. Paul himself, a pattern for believers, said he had not yet attained. God has seen fit that we should be complete in nothing in ourselves, so that we may be complete in Christ. A believer who thinks mortification has failed because a sin still stirs has misunderstood the goal.

Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect: but I follow after, if that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus. PHILIPPIANS 3:12

It is not, second, the hiding of a sin. A man may give up the outward practice of some sin for reasons of reputation or advantage and be taken for a changed man. God knows better. Owen’s judgement is crisp: “He hath got another heart than he had, that is more cunning; not a new heart, that is more holy.”

It is not, third, the cultivation of a calm temperament. Some people are naturally placid, and by discipline and good sense they may come to seem very mortified, while their hearts are full of hidden pride, envy or unbelief. Owen observes that a man who struggles with a violent temper every day may have made more progress against it than another man who has never been troubled by anger at all. He tells the naturally calm to test themselves not by the sins their temperament spares them but by the spiritual sins it does not.

It is not, fourth, the diversion of a sin into another channel. Simon Magus gave up his sorcery when he professed faith, but the covetousness and ambition that had driven it remained, and Peter saw it.

Thou hast neither part nor lot in this matter: for thy heart is not right in the sight of God. Repent therefore of this thy wickedness, and pray God, if perhaps the thought of thine heart may be forgiven thee. For I perceive that thou art in the gall of bitterness, and in the bond of iniquity. ACTS 8:21–23

A sin can be exchanged for another as easily as a coat. Owen notes, with a dry realism, that “Men in age do not usually persist in the pursuit of youthful lusts, although they have never mortified any one of them.” Circumstances change; the heart does not. The man who swaps sensuality for self-righteousness, or vanity for contempt of others, should not imagine he has made progress. “He hath changed his master, but is a servant still.”

It is not, fifth, an occasional victory. Owen describes two such seasons. The first comes after a sin has broken out badly and shamed a man. Everything in him is roused against it; he hates it, prays, weeps and resolves. The sin lies still, like an enemy who has killed a sentry in the night and then lies low while the camp is searched. But when the hue and cry has passed, “the thief appears again alive, and is as busy as ever at his work.” The second comes in affliction. Trouble drives a man to God, he gives up his sin in the hope of relief, and while the fear lasts the sin is quiet; when the trouble lifts, it returns. Owen finds exactly this in Israel’s history.

When he slew them, then they sought him: and they returned and enquired early after God. And they remembered that God was their rock, and the high God their redeemer. Nevertheless they did flatter him with their mouth, and they lied unto him with their tongues. For their heart was not right with him, neither were they stedfast in his covenant. PSALM 78:34–37

What it is

What, then, is mortification? Owen answers in three parts.

It is, first, the habitual weakening of a sin. Every lust is a settled bent of the heart towards some evil, and the first thing the Spirit does is to weaken that bent, so that it rises less often and less violently. Owen compares it to a man nailed to a cross. At first he struggles and cries out with great strength; as his strength drains away his struggles grow faint and his cries hoarse. So a sin, dealt with steadily, may still have its dying pangs, but it moves more seldom and more weakly. And this must be done at the root. “A man may beat down the bitter fruit from an evil tree until he is weary; whilst the root abides in strength and vigour, the beating down of the present fruit will not hinder it from bringing forth more.”

It is, second, constant fighting. This means knowing that you have such an enemy, and taking it seriously. Owen calls it knowing the plague of your own heart, borrowing Solomon’s phrase.

What prayer and supplication soever be made by any man, or by all thy people Israel, which shall know every man the plague of his own heart, and spread forth his hands toward this house. 1 KINGS 8:38

It means studying the enemy’s ways: what occasions it uses, what excuses it offers, what disguises it wears, so that when it moves you can say to it, I know this old trick of yours and where it is going. And it means loading it daily with everything that wounds it, never supposing it dead merely because it is quiet.

For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me. PSALM 51:3

It is, third, success. Not merely the disappointment of a sin, but victory over it: catching it at work, bringing it before the law of God and the love of Christ, and condemning it. When a sin has been weakened at the root, when its motions are fewer and fainter, when a man can meet it calmly and overcome it, then, Owen says, it is mortified in good measure, and he may have peace with God all his days.

Why the definitions matter

This careful sorting can seem pedantic. It is in fact deeply merciful. It protects the sincere believer from despair, because it tells him that the continued presence of sin is not proof of failure; the question is whether the sin is being weakened, fought and overcome. And it protects the complacent from false comfort, because it strips away the counterfeits: the calm temperament, the traded sin, the resolution made in a crisis.

Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves. 2 CORINTHIANS 13:5

FOR REFLECTION AND ACTION

1. Go through Owen’s five counterfeits one by one and ask whether any of them describes your dealing with your besetting sin.

2. If you are naturally calm or disciplined, test yourself this week against a spiritual sin such as envy, unbelief or self-righteousness, rather than the sins your temperament spares you.

3. Consider whether a sin you think you have left behind has only changed its clothes. Where has that old desire gone?

4. Write down the usual path by which your besetting sin approaches you: the time, the place, the mood, the excuse. Learn its old tricks so you can name them.

A PRAYER

Lord, You see my heart as it is, and not as it appears.

Forgive me for mistaking a quiet temperament for holiness, a hidden sin for a conquered one, and a crisis resolution for a changed heart.

Teach me to know the plague of my own heart, to learn its ways, and to fight it daily at the root.

Weaken what is sinful in me, little by little, until it moves seldom and faintly, and let me walk before You in peace. Amen.