The Law Within (Part 1)

The Mediterranean sun was setting over the harbor of Caesarea, casting long shadows across the courtyard where Paul sat in his temporary lodgings. The sea breeze carried the familiar scents of salt and fish, mingling with the aromatic herbs growing in clay pots along the walls. Luke, having just returned from tending to a sick merchant in the city, found his friend deep in thought, scratching words onto a parchment with focused intensity.

“Still working on the letter to the Romans?” Luke asked, settling onto a wooden bench nearby. He noticed the growing collection of discarded drafts at Paul’s feet, evidence of the apostle’s meticulous attention to every word.

Paul looked up, his weathered face brightening at the sight of his trusted companion. “Indeed, my friend. I’ve been wrestling with how to express some particularly complex thoughts about the Gentiles and the law.” He ran a hand through his graying hair, a gesture Luke had come to recognize as a sign of deep contemplation.

“Tell me more,” Luke encouraged, pouring two cups of water from a nearby clay pitcher. “Which aspect troubles you?”

Paul accepted the cup gratefully, taking a slow sip before responding. “I’m attempting to address a delicate matter – how the Gentiles, who don’t have the law of Moses, can somehow still demonstrate knowledge of right and wrong. It’s crucial for helping our Jewish brothers understand God’s universal justice.”

Luke leaned forward, intrigued. “How do you plan to explain this?”

“Listen to what I’ve written,” Paul said, lifting the parchment. “‘For when Gentiles, who do not have the law, by nature do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves, even though they do not have the law. They show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them on that day when God judges the secrets of men by Christ Jesus.’”

Luke sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, allowing the words to sink in. “That’s profound, Paul. But help me understand – how can they be ‘a law to themselves’? What exactly do you mean?”

Paul set down his writing implements and turned to face Luke fully. His eyes held that familiar spark that appeared whenever he delved into matters of theological significance. “Consider the merchant you just treated today. Though he’s a Gentile, doesn’t he understand the basic principles of honesty in his business dealings?”

“He does,” Luke nodded. “In fact, he insisted on paying me extra because he had kept me waiting while attending to his ledgers.”

“Exactly!” Paul exclaimed, gesturing enthusiastically. “He’s never read the Torah, never studied our laws about fair weights and measures or treating workers fairly. Yet something within him – something God has placed there – told him what was right. That’s what I mean by ’the work of the law is written on their hearts.’”

Luke’s medical mind was intrigued by the metaphor. “Written on their hearts… So you’re saying there’s an innate moral compass that God has built into human nature itself?”

“Yes, but it’s more than just an instinct,” Paul explained, standing and beginning to pace the courtyard as he often did when working through complex ideas. “It’s a testimony to God’s character being reflected in His creation. Think about it, Luke – you’ve traveled extensively with me. We’ve encountered people from all sorts of backgrounds, cultures, and beliefs. Yet certain moral truths seem to be universal.”

“Like the prohibition against murder,” Luke offered. “Every society we’ve encountered has some form of that.”

“Precisely!” Paul stopped pacing and pointed at Luke emphatically. “And not just murder – basic principles of justice, caring for family, honesty, protecting the vulnerable. These concepts appear everywhere, even if the specific expressions vary. This is no accident.”

The evening breeze had grown stronger, causing the oil lamps to flicker and dance. Luke pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “But Paul, if these moral truths are so universal, why do people so often fail to live up to them?”

Paul’s expression grew somber. “Ah, now you’ve touched on another crucial point in this passage. Notice I mentioned their ‘conflicting thoughts’ that both accuse and excuse them. This internal struggle is universal to human experience.”

“You mean like when someone knows what they’re doing is wrong, but they rationalize it anyway?”

“Exactly. The conscience bears witness – it testifies to the truth – but we humans are masters at arguing with our own conscience.” Paul chuckled ruefully. “I should know. I once convinced myself I was serving God by persecuting His church.”

Luke nodded thoughtfully. “So this internal moral law isn’t enough on its own?”

“No, it’s not sufficient for salvation,” Paul agreed, returning to his seat. “But that’s not its purpose. Its purpose is to show that God has not left himself without witness, even among those who never heard the law of Moses. It demonstrates that His judgments are just, because He holds people accountable according to the light they have received.”

“Tell me more about this judgment you mentioned,” Luke prompted. “You wrote about ’that day when God judges the secrets of men by Christ Jesus.’ What did you mean by ‘secrets’?”

Paul leaned back, his eyes distant as if seeing beyond the present moment. “Think about how many moral choices we make that no one else ever sees. The private thoughts we entertain, the opportunities for kindness we ignore, the subtle ways we choose self-interest over love. These are the secrets that will be brought to light.”

“That’s a sobering thought,” Luke murmured.

“It should be,” Paul replied. “But notice who the judge is – Christ Jesus. The same one who died to save us from condemnation. This is crucial for understanding God’s justice. He doesn’t judge arbitrarily or without understanding our struggles. The judge is one who has walked in human flesh, faced temptation, and knows our weaknesses.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as they contemplated these things. The last rays of sunlight had faded, and the stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky. The sound of evening prayers drifted from a nearby synagogue, a reminder of the complex religious context in which they lived and worked.

Luke finally broke the silence. “You know, Paul, I’ve been thinking about how this relates to my work as a physician. When I treat patients – Jewish, Greek, Roman, it doesn’t matter – I see this moral law at work in various ways. Parents sacrificing for their children, spouses caring for each other, strangers showing unexpected kindness.”

Paul nodded eagerly. “Yes! And isn’t it interesting how these actions often align with what the law of Moses commands? Love your neighbor, honor your parents, show mercy to the stranger – these aren’t just arbitrary rules. They reflect something fundamental about how God designed human relationships to work.”

“But then why give the written law at all?” Luke asked. “If people naturally know right from wrong to some degree, what was the purpose of the Mosaic law?”

Paul stroked his beard thoughtfully. “The written law serves multiple purposes. It makes explicit what might otherwise remain vague. It provides specific guidance for God’s covenant people. And perhaps most importantly, it helps us recognize just how far we fall short of God’s perfect standard.”

“Like a physician’s diagnostic tools,” Luke suggested. “They help us identify illness more precisely, even though we might already suspect something is wrong from the symptoms.”

“An excellent analogy!” Paul exclaimed. “And just as a diagnosis isn’t the cure, the law isn’t the solution to our moral failure. It points us to our need for Christ.” He paused, then added with a slight smile, “You should write that down – it might be useful for your own writings someday.”

Luke laughed. “Perhaps I will. But let’s return to your letter. How does this understanding of universal moral law help your larger argument about justification by faith?”

Paul reached for the parchment again, scanning his previous paragraphs. “It helps in several ways. First, it establishes that all people are accountable to God, not just those who have received the written law. Second, it shows that God’s judgment is fair – He judges people according to the light they’ve received. And third, it demonstrates that neither having the written law nor following our moral intuitions is sufficient for righteousness.”

“Because even the Gentiles who do good things by nature still fall short?” Luke asked.

“Exactly. Everyone falls short – Jews under the written law and Gentiles under the natural law. This universal moral failure points to our universal need for Christ.” Paul’s voice took on the passionate tone that Luke had heard in countless synagogues and marketplaces. “But here’s the beautiful part – just as the moral law is written on hearts, so too is the new covenant written on hearts through the Spirit. It’s not about external compliance anymore, but internal transformation.”

Luke considered this for a moment. “So you’re saying that the same God who wrote the basic moral law on human hearts is now writing His perfect law on the hearts of believers through the Spirit?”

“Yes!” Paul’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “And this internal writing produces what the external law never could – genuine righteousness flowing from a transformed heart. The natural moral law shows us God’s justice in judgment, but the Spirit writing God’s law on our hearts shows us His mercy in salvation.”

“This is fascinating, Paul,” Luke said, rising to trim the oil lamps as darkness had fully fallen. “But how do you think the Jewish believers in Rome will respond to this idea? Won’t some see it as diminishing the special status of the law given to Moses?”

Paul sighed heavily, showing the weight he felt in addressing such sensitive issues. “That’s exactly why I’m taking such care with how I express these things. I need them to understand that recognizing God’s work among the Gentiles doesn’t diminish the privilege of having received the written law. If anything, it highlights the wisdom of God’s progressive revelation – first writing His law on human hearts in creation, then giving the written law to Israel, and finally sending Christ to fulfill the law and write it anew on believers’ hearts through the Spirit.”

“And what about the Gentile believers?” Luke asked. “How do you think they’ll receive this teaching?”

“I hope it will help them understand both their accountability to God and His gracious work in their lives, even before they heard the gospel,” Paul replied. “It should humble them – preventing any pride in their moral achievements – while also assuring them that God has been at work in their lives all along, preparing them for the gospel.”

Luke nodded thoughtfully. “It’s remarkable how this teaching manages to humble everyone while simultaneously affirming God’s work in each person’s life.”

“That’s because true understanding of God’s ways always has that effect,” Paul said with a gentle smile. “It leaves no room for boasting but gives abundant reason for gratitude.”

The night had grown cool, and the sound of waves breaking against the harbor wall provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation. Luke noticed Paul suppressing a yawn – the apostle had been writing since dawn.

“Perhaps we should continue this discussion tomorrow,” Luke suggested. “You need rest, and these words deserve your fresh attention in the morning.”

Paul nodded, carefully rolling up the parchment. “Yes, you’re right. But I’m grateful for this conversation, Luke. Your questions help me clarify my thoughts and anticipate how others might understand these teachings.”

As Luke prepared to leave, he paused at the door. “One last thing, Paul. This understanding of the law written on hearts – it helps explain something I’ve often observed in my travels.”

“What’s that?”

“How the gospel finds fertile soil in such diverse places. When we proclaim Christ, we’re not introducing something entirely foreign. We’re revealing the one who perfectly embodied the moral law that people already dimly perceive. We’re introducing them to the author of that law written on their hearts.”

Paul’s face broke into a broad smile. “My friend, you’ve captured it perfectly. Perhaps you should be writing this letter instead of me!”

They both laughed, knowing that each had their own role to play in spreading the gospel. As Luke made his way through the darkened streets of Caesarea, he reflected on their conversation. The truth they had discussed was like the stars now visible above – always present, even when unrecognized, testifying to their Creator’s wisdom and pointing the way home.

Back in his quarters, Paul added a few final lines to his letter before seeking his rest. He felt satisfied that he had found the right words to express this crucial truth – that in every human heart, God had written a testimony to His moral law, preparing the way for the fuller revelation of His grace in Christ.

The night settled over Caesarea, and in countless hearts across the empire, that ancient moral law continued its silent witness, accusing and excusing, pointing to humanity’s need for the Savior who had come to write a new law of grace on human hearts.

As Paul drifted off to sleep, his mind returned to the words he had written, words that would echo through centuries: “They show that the work of the law is written on their hearts…” In that simple phrase lay profound truths about human nature, divine justice, and the universal scope of God’s redemptive plan. Tomorrow he would continue his letter, but for now, he rested in the knowledge that God’s truth was already at work, written not just on parchment, but on the hearts of people everywhere.