"To abstain from sin when one can no longer sin is to be forsaken by sin, not to forsake it"
About this Quote
Holiness gets a lot less impressive when it arrives on the back of exhaustion. Augustine’s line slices through the comforting story we tell about late-life virtue: that renunciation is always a triumph of will. He’s pointing to a grimmer possibility - that what looks like moral discipline can actually be moral irrelevance, the quiet moment when temptation simply stops knocking because the body, the opportunities, or the appetite has withered.
The intent is diagnostic, not merely scolding. Augustine wants to separate virtue from mere incapacity. If you “abstain” only when you can’t do the thing anymore, you haven’t conquered sin; you’ve been “forsaken” by it, abandoned like an old vice that no longer finds you useful. The phrasing is deliberately humiliating. Sin becomes an agent with standards, capable of leaving you - an inversion that steals the halo from easy repentance.
The subtext carries Augustine’s larger project: re-centering morality on the interior life. In his world, the battlefield isn’t just the act but the desire, the consent, the love of the wrong thing. That makes this quote a warning against performative piety and a critique of reputations built on timing. It also smuggles in his theology of grace: real change isn’t a late cosmetic edit to one’s behavior but a transformation of will, ideally before the world makes sin impractical.
Context matters: Augustine wrote as a former hedonist turned bishop, intensely aware of how quickly “I’ve changed” can mean “I’ve aged.” The line is confession weaponized into pastoral counsel: don’t mistake the closing of the door for choosing to walk away.
The intent is diagnostic, not merely scolding. Augustine wants to separate virtue from mere incapacity. If you “abstain” only when you can’t do the thing anymore, you haven’t conquered sin; you’ve been “forsaken” by it, abandoned like an old vice that no longer finds you useful. The phrasing is deliberately humiliating. Sin becomes an agent with standards, capable of leaving you - an inversion that steals the halo from easy repentance.
The subtext carries Augustine’s larger project: re-centering morality on the interior life. In his world, the battlefield isn’t just the act but the desire, the consent, the love of the wrong thing. That makes this quote a warning against performative piety and a critique of reputations built on timing. It also smuggles in his theology of grace: real change isn’t a late cosmetic edit to one’s behavior but a transformation of will, ideally before the world makes sin impractical.
Context matters: Augustine wrote as a former hedonist turned bishop, intensely aware of how quickly “I’ve changed” can mean “I’ve aged.” The line is confession weaponized into pastoral counsel: don’t mistake the closing of the door for choosing to walk away.
Quote Details
| Topic | Ethics & Morality |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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