Lost In the Pew

Lost in the Pew

At the end of Romans 1, it’s easy to nod along. Paul’s description of idolatry, immorality, and moral collapse feels uncomfortably familiar. We recognize the culture. We see the drift. And if we’re honest, many of us quietly say, “Amen.” God’s judgment makes sense. It’s deserved. And it’s clearly aimed out there.

Or so we think.

In Romans 2:1–5, Paul does something unsettling. He turns the spotlight away from “those people” and points it directly at the religious insider—the moral person, the churchgoer, the one who knows the rules and condemns the culture. That approving nod from Romans 1? Paul says it boomerangs right back.

Paul is addressing what we might call the moralist: someone who upholds biblical standards, knows right from wrong, and may even profess faith—but who has never truly bowed the knee to Christ. In Paul’s day, this was aimed primarily at unbelieving Jews who trusted in their covenant status rather than repentance. Today, the application lands squarely on those who trust in baptism, church membership, family name, moral restraint, or doctrinal correctness.

Here is Paul’s logic, and it’s devastatingly simple. If you are able to judge someone else’s sin, then you clearly know the difference between right and wrong. But if you practice the same sins—perhaps not outwardly, but inwardly—you stand condemned by your own judgment. You are proving that you know the standard and are violating it anyway.

Paul is not saying that the moralist commits every sin listed in Romans 1 in the same way. He is saying that sin is not merely behavioral—it is rooted in the heart. Jesus Himself made this clear. Lust is adultery of the heart. Hatred is murder of the heart. Pride, envy, resentment, gossip cloaked as concern—these are not “lesser sins,” merely better hidden ones.

This is where the moralist feels safe. Outwardly, things look respectable. There may be no public scandal, no obvious rebellion. But beneath the surface, the same idolatry thrives—self-righteousness replacing humility, comparison replacing repentance, judgment replacing confession.

Paul presses further. God’s judgment, he says, is according to truth. No favoritism. No exceptions. Religious privilege does not shield anyone from accountability. God does not grade on a curve. Church attendance does not offset hidden rebellion. Knowing Scripture does not cancel disobedience. There are no loopholes.

Some live as if God’s patience is approval. Because judgment has not yet fallen, they assume peace with God. Paul calls this presumption—and he warns that it is deadly. God’s kindness, forbearance, and patience are not given so we can sin longer, but so we can repent sooner. Every breath, every delayed consequence, every undeserved mercy is meant to lead us back to Him.

And yet, many respond to patience with stubbornness. Paul calls it a hard and impenitent heart—a heart that refuses to turn. Such a life does not erase judgment; it stores it up. Like interest accumulating in a bank account, unrepentant sin compounds wrath.

This is why being “lost in the pew” is so dangerous. You can sit under the Word, agree with the truth, judge the world accurately—and still be unconverted. You can condemn the culture while excusing yourself. You can look alive while being spiritually dead.

But here is the hope Paul never abandons. God’s patience still stands. The same God who warns of judgment has provided a Savior. Jesus Christ lived the perfect life the moralist could never live. He bore the judgment both the rebel and the religious deserved. And He now calls all—brazen sinners and quiet churchgoers alike—to repentance and faith.

If you are trusting in anything other than Christ, hear this clearly: moral goodness cannot save you. Only grace can. And that grace is available today.

Do not remain lost in the pew. Come to Jesus. He is waiting.