Fear of the Lord

The idea of “fear” in relation to God is often downplayed as consisting in merely reverence or awe, especially in the New Testament. But while these are no doubt part of it fear, they are inadequate accounts of it on their own. Scripture routinely pairs fear of God with terrifying things and people’s trembling at them, which is not necessarily the case with reverence. And it often connects fear of God with an active response, whereas being in awe of something is mostly (if not entirely) passive. In this post, I want to give a more nuanced analysis of fear and explore its outworkings in passages drawn from both the Old and New Testaments, in order to arrive at a deeper and more biblical account of it.

Fear is when (1) we are aware of a possibility that (2) we take to be painful or bad in some way. It’s not that we believe this thing will happen, only that we are aware of its possibility. If, on the other hand, we thought it would happen then that would be dread.[1] The object of our fear can be the active imposition of some bad thing, such as a violent attack, or it can be the loss of something good, such as the loss of our savings. We could say that there are two “kinds” of fear, distinguished by the response they motivate in us. On the one hand, if the object is entirely set on the imposition of something bad, then fear will drive us to rid ourselves of it, through destroying it or fleeing it. On the other hand, if the object is something good we may lose, then fear draws us towards it rather than drives away from it, to cling to and safeguard rather than destroy or flee.

Let us now consider some passages in scripture that mention the fear of God.

Now when all the people saw the thunder and the flashes of lightning and the sound of the trumpet and the mountain smoking, the people were afraid [shaking] and trembled, and they stood far off and said to Moses, “You speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, lest we die.” Moses said to the people, “Do not fear, for God has come to test you, that the fear of him may be before you, that you may not sin.” The people stood far off, while Moses drew near to the thick darkness where God was. (Ex 20:18–21)

This is one of the more intriguing passages on the fear of the Lord. At first glance, Moses’s words seem to be almost contradictory, but we can understand what’s going on here in terms of the two kinds of fear we have mentioned: Moses is urging the people not to have a fear of God that causes them to flee from him, but rather to have a fear of God that draws near and remains faithful to him. This aligns well with the surrounding narrative, but also with the juxtaposition of how the people stand far off while Moses draws near. God had chosen Israel to be his treasured possession among all the nations, that they could maintain this “holy zone” within the world where God could be accessed once again (Ex 19:1–6). But God is powerful and hates sin, making him dangerous to a people prone to sinning and turning away to other gods (Ex 20:22; 32). Thus, turning away from God in disobedience would result in both the loss of something great (life with the creator himself) and the imposition of a great pain (punishment by the creator himself). A double reason to fear God and cling to him rather than make oneself an enemy of him. We see these ideas borne out explicitly in Deuteronomy:

It is the LORD your God you shall fear. Him you shall serve and by his name you shall swear. You shall not go after other gods, the gods of the peoples who are around you— for the LORD your God in your midst is a jealous God—lest the anger of the LORD your God be kindled against you, and he destroy you from off the face of the earth. (Deut 6:10–15)

The question here is not whether or not the people fear, but who they fear. The typical practice in the Ancient Near East was for invading tribes to take on the gods of the people they conquered, including them in their pantheon. But God distinguishes himself from these other gods by being jealous—he alone is to be feared, not alongside these other gods. He alone is the supreme creator over everything, who can wipe the people out completely if they go against him—the possibility of pain which grounds the fear his people are to have of him.

And now, Israel, what does the LORD your God require of you, but to fear the LORD your God, to walk in all his ways, to love him, to serve the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and to keep the commandments and statutes of the LORD, which I am commanding you today for your good? …  For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great, the mighty, and the awesome [fearful] God, who is not partial and takes no bribe… You shall fear the LORD your God. You shall serve him and hold fast to him, and by his name you shall swear. He is your praise. He is your God, who has done for you these great and terrifying [fearful] things that your eyes have seen. Your fathers went down to Egypt seventy persons, and now the LORD your God has made you as numerous as the stars of heaven. (Deut 10:12–22)

English translations tend to use different words to translate the Hebrew words which share the same root as “fear”, which has the unfortunate effect of obscuring the connection between the command to fear God and the basis for this in his dealings with Israel. Something we see from this passage is that fear of God is not the only motivating force for the people of God. It may at first seem strange or even manipulative to combine fear with love, but as Whitney explains in his excellent essay on the topic, it is only when these two work together that they can have a truly beneficial effect on us:

The Scripture evidently regards love, toward God or man, as the highest motive of its list, but it expects, in a multitude of cases, to be able to commit man to the guidance and tutelage of love only after he has been caught and conquered by fear… it is, indeed, true that fear alone does degrade. It is also true, and it is a truth that often needs much more to be insisted on, that love alone softens men into weakness or lets their passions grow strong for rebellion by-and-by. But fear, wrapped about by love… makes the tender and obedient and yet strong Christian man.[2]

Whitney notes that fear plays a role alongside other motives in all social settings, whether they be familial, social, or civil. It is most important where reason or some other higher motive is not enough to curb all pathological behaviors, as anyone who has needed to supervise a young child for more than a short time will tell you. Perhaps we make the mistake of thinking the same is true even of adults and even in the case of religion, for in many respects we maintain our self- and other-destructive tendencies and our disregard for the goodness of God.

Now then, let the fear of the LORD be upon you. Be careful what you do, for there is no injustice with the LORD our God, or partiality or taking bribes. (2 Chr 19:7)

These are the words Jehoshaphat said to the judges he had appointed, and they are of interest because they show that the reason God is to be feared not because he is fickle or unjust, but because he is just. The fear of God is quite unlike the fear of men, who are proud, corrupt, or cruel. In these cases, we might do all the right things and yet still be “punished” for our actions, but with God we are to fear precisely because he is not like this. The punishment of men might be averted through bribery or favoritism, but not with God. There is no recourse or court of appeals as there are in our error-prone judicial systems, for he does not make mistakes and he will not subvert justice.

O Lord, let your ear be attentive to the prayer of your servant, and to the prayer of your servants who delight to fear your name, and give success to your servant today, and grant him mercy in the sight of this man. (Neh 1:11)

At first glance it may seem somewhat paradoxical to delight in fearing God, since we have said that fear has to do with pain and loss. There are two ways of understanding what is meant by Nehemiah’s statement. In the first place, we might take him to be speaking metonymically, where “fear of God” is used to refer to all aspects of obedience and proper living with God that we saw listed earlier. In this case, Nehemiah is simply referring to those who take pleasure in living in harmony with God. Another way to take him is as speaking in relation to the effect of the fear of God, rather than the experience of fear itself. That is, while the object of fear is something bad, the purpose of fear is to draw us towards God and safeguard our life with him. So, we take pleasure in the fear of God knowing that it will keep us on the straight and narrow, protecting us both from the negative influence of others and from ourselves. This is no doubt what the Psalmist has in mind when he says that God’s rod and staff comfort him (Ps 23:4). In the metaphor of God as shepherd and us as sheep, his rod is a tool for discipline whereas his staff is a tool for softer guidance. These both comfort us because these are both means by which God keeps us on the path that is truly beneficial, even when our passions would have us mistakenly believe otherwise.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction. (Pr 1:7)

Because they hated knowledge and did not choose the fear of the Lord, would have none of my counsel and despised all my reproof, therefore they shall eat the fruit of their way, and have their fill of their own devices. For the simple are killed by their turning away, and the complacency of fools destroys them; but whoever listens to me will dwell secure and will be at ease, without dread of disaster. (Pr 1:29–33)

… if you call out for insight and raise your voice for understanding, if you seek it like silver and search for it as for hidden treasures, then you will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God. For the Lord gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding. (Pr 2:3–6)

Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones. (Pr 3:7–8)

I, wisdom, dwell with prudence, and I find knowledge and discretion. The fear of the Lord is hatred of evil. Pride and arrogance and the way of evil and perverted speech I hate. I have counsel and sound wisdom; I have insight; I have strength. (Pr 8:12–14)

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight. (Pr 9:10)

The fear of the Lord is a regular motif within Proverbs. Above I have selected just the explicit mentions of it within the opening prologue of the book (chs. 1–9), although even here there are still more implicit mentions. Throughout this prologue we see the repeated refrain for the reader to listen to the guidance of their parents, of wisdom itself, and ultimately of God. While going the way of the scoffers, the sluggards, and the fools might at first seem appealing, it will really lead to their destruction. By contrast the wisdom gained from humbly listening to others will protect the attentive listener and help them to flourish in life. It’s within this context that the fear of the Lord Proverbs speaks of is to be understood. The author no doubt has in mind the law of Moses, given the mention of the covenant with God (2:17) and prolonging their time in the land (2:21–22). But there also seems to be a broader focus to his warnings: the object of fear is not only God’s judgment for rejecting him, but also the natural consequences of living without regard to God’s instruction. God has created the world to function in a particular way, and disregarding his guidance will corrupt ourselves, be ultimately unfulfilling, and perhaps even lead to our eventual downfall. The fear of this is the fear of loss, loss of the good life we could have within a well-functioning society if only we followed God’s instruction.

I perceived that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. God has done it, so that people fear before him. That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already has been; and God seeks what has been driven away. (Eccl 3:14–15)

Ecclesiastes is in basic agreement with Proverbs, but the approach is somewhat different, leading to a different nuance of the fear of God. A major aspect of Qohelet’s aim in Ecclesiastes is negative, arguing against prevailing sentiment about how we should achieve happiness—or “the good life”, or how we should live “under the sun”. Rather than grasp happiness by our own power through folly, or in wisdom, or as the outcome of wisdom we should instead find it in the toil God has already given each of us to be busy with. God “has made everything beautiful in its time… there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God’s gift to man.” (Eccl 3:11–13) He is not only giving one option among others, however, but argues that this is the only viable option. The reason for this is expressed in the quoted passage above: God has designed reality to work like this, and there is nothing we can do to change that. Any attempt to seek happiness by our own power apart from this radical reliance on God will hit up against hevel—a Hebrew word literally meaning “vapor”, but used by Qohelet to convey the inevitable failure of such pursuits.[3] Thus, the fear of God Qohelet considers here is not necessarily based on punishment (although this does come up immediately after this), but on the inevitable squandering of happiness by going against his design. In this regard it is similar to Proverbs, in that it sees this loss as issuing from the natural consequences of our actions rather than some externally-imposed punishment. But because these natural consequences are the result of God’s design, Qohelet can conclude that true happiness is found only in the joyful toil in the fear of God.

For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” (Rom 8:14–15)

Then you will say, “Branches were broken off so that I might be grafted in.” That is true. They were broken off because of their unbelief, but you stand fast through faith. So do not become proud, but fear. For if God did not spare the natural branches, neither will he spare you. Note then the kindness and the severity of God: severity toward those who have fallen, but God’s kindness to you, provided you continue in his kindness. Otherwise you too will be cut off. (Rom. 11:19–22)

As we come to the New Testament, the tendency is to suppose that Jesus did away with the fear of God. We might attempt to justify this mistaken idea by pointing to passages which clearly say we are not to fear, as Paul does in the first passage above. But we have seen from our brief survey of some Old Testament passages that such statements are perfectly compatible with, and sometimes even implied by, the fear of God. As the quotes above show, this is true in Romans as well. The fear in chapter 8 arises from falling back into slavery to sin, for as long as we continue in this state we await God’s wrath as his enemies. Such a fear is of course no longer applicable now that we have adoption through Christ. However, this does not exclude fear tout court, for the judgment of God remains a live possibility so long as we are at risk of abandoning him, and with this will now also come the loss of this new and glorious life we have been brought into. Thus we have Paul’s warning against presumption of grace in chapter 11.

Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure. (Phil 2:12–13)

The exhortation to work out our salvation in fear and trembling is a consequence drawn both from God’s work through Christ (2:1–11) and from God’s work in us (2:13). At first glance, neither of these things seem like they would instill fear in us. Again, we might be tempted to paper over this by saying that the fear in view here is simply a sort of reverence, but this would both ignore the biblical context we have been considering so far and ignore the pairing of fear with trembling in this particular passage. Paul must have judgment in mind to some extent, as he proceeds to urge the Philippians to be blameless, innocent, and without blemish (2:15). Yet we still need to explain the connections he explicitly draws between fear and the work of God. One way to understand this is that God’s work makes plain how seriously he takes the matter of whether we live in accordance with him. If God had left us to our own devices, then it could be taken as an indication of his ultimate indifference to us. But if Christ humbles himself to the point of death and God transforms us internally into a people who live according to his good pleasure, then we can be sure that God is anything but indifferent. We best not squander these great gifts, then, for God will surely hold us more accountable the more grace of his we reject.[4] So, then, rather than remove the fear of God, the grace given to us in Christ strengthens it!


[1] We have discussed these in some detail before: https://thinkingthoughtout.com/2016/11/30/faith-and-hope/

[2] Henry M. Whitney, “The Place of Fear Among the Motives of Religion”, Bibliotheca Sacra Vol 63 Iss 250 (1906).

[3] This word is variously (but unhelpfully) translated as “vanity” or “meaninglessness” or “futility”. I think it best to think of the word as a term of art, coined by Qohelet in his discourse, just as Aristotle used the Greek word hyle for “matter”, even though it literally means “wood”. If pressed for a single-word translation, I like “intractability”, but this is admittedly not a particularly common word. A friend of mine has defended the translation “illusive”, which is better.

[4] This is the flip side of a principle commonly used to explain how God treats the unevangelized: God will hold us accountable in proportion to the knowledge we have been given and our power to properly respond to it.

God causes evil actions without causing the evil in actions

On a recent episode of Unbelievable?, William Lane Craig and James White discussed whether Molinism or Calvinism provide the better approach to God’s providence in light of the reality of evil. Craig is a proponent of Molinism, which seeks to reconcile libertarian freedom with divine providence by positing a special kind of knowledge in God called middle knowledge. White, on the other hand, is a proponent of the compatibilist model of providence common among Reformed theologians, which posits that divine determinism is compatible with human freedom because the latter doesn’t require alternate choice.[1] In the course of this discussion, Craig presents an argument for thinking that the counterfactuals of creaturely freedom (CCFs) are part of God’s middle knowledge. These CCFs are propositions about what free creatures would freely choose when put in various circumstances. Both Craig and White agree that such propositions are contingently true, but they disagree on whether they are decided by God or are true logically prior to God deciding anything. Craig’s argument, which he presents here, can be formulated as follows:

  1. The CCFs are either true logically prior to the divine decree, or they are true only posterior to the divine decree.
  2. If the CCFs are true only logically posterior to the divine creative decree, then God is the author of evil.
  3. God is not the author of evil.
  4. Therefore, the CCFs are true logically prior to the divine decree.

My interest in this post is to evaluate this argument from the perspective of the Thomistic model of omni-instrumentality I have explained in previous posts (see here).

A major feature that differentiates omni-instrumentality from Molinism and compatibilism is that it doesn’t treat human choices as an atomic reality. While Molinism and compatibilism may grant that there are various psychological and other parts that make up a human choice, when it comes to explaining how God can exert control over these choices these parts do not play an explanatory role. When considering a creature’s choice of X, for instance, the Molinist focuses on the circumstances of the choice (as captured by the relevant CCFs) while the compatibilist focuses on God’s ability to make the creature choose X, both of which are factors external to the details of the choice itself. Even if we consider the underlying models of concurrence, which analyze the components of the choice, we see the same thing. The Molinist holds to the view of simultaneous concurrence, wherein God provides the indeterminate being of the choice and the creature provides the details that determine it to this or that particular choice, and so the atomicity of the details of the choice remains. The compatibilist holds that God causes the whole choice, details and all, and so there is just no need to decompose the choice any further in the account.

By contrast, the omni-instrumental view requires that we analyze the details of the choice in terms of what aspects of it originate from God and the creature. I discussed this in some detail in the third post on the view, but to summarize the point briefly: the goodness of the choice—its proper ordering toward an end truly worth pursuing—arises from God as the primary cause, whereas the evil of the choice—its failure to fully realize this goodness—arises from the creature as a limited secondary cause. Any choice is a result of one or both  of these factors coming together in some way. A purely good choice is one in which the creature introduces no privation of the goodness originating from God, whereas a choice is said to be evil precisely insofar as such a privation is present.[2] The upshot of this is that God causes evil actions without causing the evil in actions.

This conclusion helps us to see that there is an important ambiguity in Craig’s argument: when it speaks of “evil” in (2) and (3), is it speaking of evil actions or the evil in actions? This ambiguity is not relevant to Craig or White because their respective positions treat actions as atomic. But for the omni-instrumental position, it affects which of the two premises we should reject.

If what the argument has in mind is evil actions, then we should deny (3). God is the author of evil actions in the sense that he is the primary cause of these actions. This does not mean, however, that he is the cause of evil as such, because God the evil of these actions does not arise from him, but from the creature.

If, on the other hand, the argument has in mind the evil in actions, then we should deny (2). The CCFs concern the actions taken by creatures, whether good or evil. These are logically posterior to the divine decree because in causing creatures to act freely as they do, God thereby determines how they would act in various circumstances. However, as we have said, this occurs without God thereby causing the evil in the actions, and therefore (2) is false.

So, then, as far as the omni-instrumental position is concerned, Craig’s argument fails to establish its conclusion. But the exact reason why depends on how we nuance the reference to “evil” in the argument, in light of the distinction between causing evil actions and causing the evil in actions.


[1] I have discussed both views in my posts “Omni-instrumentality 4: Contrasting Views” and “God’s control and our free will.” As mentioned in the former post, the word “compatibilism” admits of multiple senses. Here we take it in its most common sense (in the context of this debate) or soft determinism, which rejects the libertarian view of human freedom in order to justify divine determinism as the mechanism of providence.

[2] There is no such thing as a purely evil action in the sense of there being no good whatsoever, since evil is the privation of good and therefore parasitic upon it. Nevertheless, there are purely evil actions in the colloquial sense of an action being so significant that there is no way for it to be morally justified by the good within it.

Judgement according to works in Romans 2

In Romans 2, Paul says the following:

[God] will render to each one according to his works: to those who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor and immortality, he will give eternal life; but for those who are self-seeking and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, there will be wrath and fury. There will be tribulation and distress for every human being who does evil, the Jew first and also the Greek, but glory and honor and peace for everyone who does good, the Jew first and also the Greek. For God shows no partiality. (Rom. 2:6–11)

On the face of it, this is about as clear as someone can get when saying that everyone—including believers—will be judged according to their works. The trouble is that this is part of an argument Paul is making for the conclusion that people are justified by faith apart from works. As he says in chapter 4:

For what does the Scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness.” Now to the one who works, his wages are not counted as a gift but as his due. And to the one who does not work but believes in him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness, just as David also speaks of the blessing of the one to whom God counts righteousness apart from works… (Rom. 4:2–6, emphasis added)

Out of a desire to preserve the Pauline doctrine of justification by faith alone, some have suggested that we understand Paul to be speaking in hypotheticals when he says that God will give eternal life “to those who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor and immortality.” According to this “hypothetical reading,” Paul is reasoning as follows: if someone were perfectly good then they would earn eternal life, and conversely if they didn’t then they would earn wrath and fury. Since everyone has sinned (3:9), it follows that the first option is not available to anyone, and therefore we all stand condemned (3:19–20). Thus, the only way for us to be right with God is for him to introduce a third option, whereby we are justified by faith wholly apart from works.

There are two problems with this proposal. First, it undermines Paul’s entire point in Rom. 2:6–11. By positing some third option, it is saying that for some people God will not render to them according to their works, which is exactly what Paul is denying. He raises his point in opposition to the position of some of his fellow Jews, that God would treat them favorably not on account of their works but on account of them having the law and circumcision (2:13, 25). Paul’s counterpoint here is that such a scheme would make God partial, and since both parties agree that this would contradict God’s justice, it follows that there cannot be some third option. Thus, God renders to everyone according to their works, both Jew and Gentile.[1] It makes no sense, then, to suggest that Paul eventually goes on to suggest a third option of his own!

The second problem with the hypothetical reading is that it is motivated by things that Paul doesn’t actually say. Paul does not say that those who seek honor and glory and immortality will earn eternal life, only that God will give it to them. And Paul does not say that God will only give it to them if they do so perfectly.

So, then, we should reject the hypothetical reading, and accept that Paul sees no contradiction between justification by faith and judgement according to works. What remains to be done, then, is to explain what judgement according to works is about if it isn’t about earning eternal life through perfect obedience.

Schreiner offers the following suggestion:

Human works cannot be the basis of right standing with God since all sin and all fall short of the glory of God. The saving righteousness of God given to us in Jesus Christ is the foundation and basis of our right standing with God. But if works aren’t the basis, what are they? They are surely necessary, for one is not saved without them. But they can’t be the necessary basis since God demands perfection and all fall short of what God requires (Rom. 3:23). It seems legitimate to say that works are the necessary evidence and fruit of a right relation with God. They demonstrate, although imperfectly, that one is truly trusting in Jesus Christ. (Emphasis original)[2]

Piper also suggests something similar:

“According to works” means God will take the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22) and the “good deeds” by which we let the light of our faith shine (Matthew 5:16), and he will accept them as corroborating evidence of our faith. His sentence of acquittal will not be because we are not guilty. It will be because Christ bore our guilt. The place of our works at the judgment is to serve as corroborating evidence that we did indeed put our trust in Christ. Therefore when we are acquitted and welcomed into the kingdom it will not be earned by works but it will be according to works. There will be an “accord” or an agreement between our salvation and our works.[3]

This suggestion seems good to me, so long as we don’t lean too heavily on the notion of “evidence.” Evidence is a way we come to know about reality, but works are more closely related to faith than this. To see what I mean, consider the analogy of a tree and its fruit, which is used in connection with this question (Matt. 7:15–20; 12:33–37; Luke 3:9; 13:6–9). The fruit that a tree produces is not merely evidence for the kind tree it is, but something that characterizes the tree. That is, it doesn’t merely help us to know about the tree, but is part of what determines the kind of tree it is. This characterization happens independently of anyone knowing anything about the tree. Likewise, then, works do not merely provide evidence for our faith (although they also do that), but they characterize it. They are part of what determines the kind of faith we have, and therefore whether the faith we have is something that can justify us.

Another reason not to lean too heavily on the notion of evidence is that it’s difficult to see why God would need evidence in the first place. Evidence is necessary in human affairs because we don’t know how things really are in themselves. But God knows reality exactly as it is, and searches our hearts directly (Luke 16:15, Rom. 2:15–16). This same concern does not apply to the suggestion that works characterize our faith, since this characterization is part of the reality known by God rather than something extra needed by God to know the reality.

In fact, it’s not only faith that is characterized by our works, but any orientation of our heart. If we hate God, or see him as someone to manipulate, or use him to look good in front of others, or whatever, the orientation of our heart will reveal itself in the way we live our lives. In general, then, our works characterize our hearts. The upshot of this is symmetry (or impartiality) in God’s judgment: God renders to each according to their works, because their works characterize their fundamental orientation to life with God. In order to make eternal life our own (Phil. 3:12), we must not only have faith in God, but this faith must be of the right kind, determined by our works.

Now, I recognize that it may sound a little strange to say that there are different “kinds” of faith, but this is an idea found throughout the New Testament. Jesus speaks of people who trust in him as Lord and even prophecy in his name, but who are rejected because they are “workers of lawlessness” (Matt. 7:21–23; 25:31–46). Elsewhere, he assumes that proper faith in him will have good works alongside it (John 5:24–29).[4] James contrasts a faith that has works with a faith that doesn’t, and says that only by the former will anyone be saved (Jas. 2:14–26). Paul says that if you have faith but not love then that faith is nothing (1 Cor. 13:2), and elsewhere that what counts is faith working through love (Gal. 5:6). So, there are different ways we can have faith, and not all ways are equally capable of making us right with God.

So, then, in the final judgement we are justified by faith, but whether or not we have the kind of faith that justifies is determined by the way it manifests itself in our works. It is not that we need to do this or that particular thing, accumulate enough good points, or even live a perfect life in order to be right with God. Nor do we earn our salvation by our works—we are justified by faith as a gift from God. Nevertheless, the faith that justifies is characterized by love, so that if the love isn’t there then neither is the proper kind of faith—there might still be some other kind of faith, but not the kind that Paul has in mind when he talks about justification. In this way, then, God can judge us according to works while at the same time justify us by faith.

The practical outworking of this is found throughout Paul’s letters, and indeed all of scripture: don’t grow weary in doing good, because in due season you will reap eternal life (Gal. 6:9; cf. 2 Thess. 3:13). Continue to work out your salvation until the very end (Phil. 2:12). Practice self-control, to ensure that you are not disqualified from the race (1 Cor. 9:24–27; 2 Tim. 2:3–6). Pursue righteousness that you might take hold of eternal life (1 Tim. 6:11–16, Phil. 3:12). The wording varies, but the underlying point  remains the same: make every effort to ensure that your faith is characterized by good works, because you can’t be saved through any other kind of faith. At the same time, we are encouraged by the fact that God works in us by the Holy Spirit to both believe and do good works. Again, there are various ways this is articulated: walk by the Spirit and not by the flesh (Rom. 8:13; Gal. 6:8). God has poured love into our hearts by his Spirit (Rom. 5:5). God has prepared good works for us to do (Eph. 2:10). And God works in us to will and work for his good pleasure (Phil. 2:13).

As with justification by faith and judgement according to works, it’s tempting to cling to one of these and ignore the other, but this will inevitably skew the biblical teaching. Those who ignore God’s role will fail to be properly encouraged to rely on him, while those who ignore our role will fail to be properly motivated by the warnings and exhortations to do good works.

Returning to Paul’s words in Romans 2, we see that there is no need to resort to a hypothetical reading in order to make sense of them. In the first option, he describes those who do not grow weary in doing good (“by patience in well-doing”) as they pursue a life pleasing to God (“seek for glory and honor”) that they might live with him (“he will give eternal life”). In what follows, Paul does not argue that sin has made this first option impossible, leading God to introduce some third option. Rather, he explains that God has made this first option accessible even to sinners, by justifying all who have faith in Jesus. Thus, so long as our patience in well-doing proceeds from faith, then our pursuit of life with God will not be in vain.

(Edited 29 Aug 2021: Added final paragraph.)


[1] Note that 2:6–11 is a chiasm, with the point about God being impartial matching up with the point about him rendering each according to their works.

[2] Thomas R. Schreiner, “Justification Apart From And By Works: At The Final Judgment Works Will Confirm Justification,” in The Role of Works at the Final Judgment (Counterpoints: Bible and Theology), ed. Alan P. Stanley (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2013).

[3] John Piper, “Final Judgment According to Works.”

[4] In this passage, Jesus says that those who do good will not come into judgment. Clearly, he is using the word “judgment” in a negative sense, rather than the neutral sense that we’re using in this post. The fact that these people’s good works factor into their receiving eternal life means that they’re being judged in the sense that we’re using it here.

God’s act of choosing

Classical theism holds that God is absolutely simple, which is to say that there is no absolute distinction within him, sometimes summarized by the phrase “all that is in God just is God.” For Thomists, this entails that God must be purely actual, which is to say that there is no mixture of potentiality and actuality in him as there are in his creatures—everything in God is one act. But if everything is one act, then how could he have acted otherwise? I have discussed this in the past, where I criticized the reasoning behind this question, so here I want to delve a bit more into the positive account of how I think about God’s freedom.

The basic problem is that the following statements seem incompatible with one another:

  1. God engages in the same act in every possible world.
  2. This act of God occurs in the same circumstance in every possible world.
  3. God determines which possible world is actualized.
  4. A different possible world could have been actualized.

It might not be clear why (2) is necessary, but if it weren’t then we could easily explain how the same act results in different possible worlds with reference to the difference in circumstances in which the act occurs. Such a move is not open to the Thomist, however, because if the circumstance of God’s choice differed between possible worlds then it would be contingent, and we hold that God is the cause of all contingent truths. Denying (3) amounts to denying that God is the creator and denying (4) amounts to a modal collapse, both of which are problematic. In my opinion, the answer isn’t to be found in denying any of these statements, but in clarifying what is involved in this single act of God.

The one act of God involves many things that for us obtain in different acts: by this one act, God knows, and chooses, and causes, and loves, and so on. These things are diversified in us because they result from the actualization of diverse potentials, but in God there is no potentiality and therefore no such diversification. Since the one act of God involves various such aspects, one aspect might help us to understand something about this act that another does not. In particular, if we consider the act in terms of free choice, then I think we can understand how the above four statements are compatible with one another.

Something that is often discussed in the context of free choice is the ability to choose otherwise. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I don’t think we should elevate this to a universal requirement of free choice, but it does apply in many cases. Regardless, we should certainly say that it applies in the case of God’s choice of which possible world to actualize. In cases where it does apply, we say that an agent in circumstance C freely chooses A only if they could have chosen something other than A in the same circumstance. The “circumstance,” here, is taken to include the entire state of affairs causally prior to the choice by the agent, including the agent’s own psychological state. Understandably, then, one objection that is sometimes leveled against such views is that it seems impossible to explain why the agent chose as they did rather than the alternative.

It seems to me that we can give an explanation that aligns well with our intuitions about our own choices. If we suppose that a reason for preferring one option over another results in a corresponding power for choosing that option rather than the alternative, then the fact that we can have reasons for various options means we will have the corresponding powers for choosing between those options. Imagine that Alice is choosing between two incompatible options, A and B. Then the circumstance C prior to her choice will include reason RA for choosing A over B and reason RB for choosing B over A. In this case, RA will result in a power in Alice to choose A rather than B, and RB will result in a power in Alice to choose B rather than A. Assuming that Alice in fact chooses A rather than B then RA will explain her choice, and conversely if she chooses B rather than A then RB will do the explaining. In either case, then, C has the sufficient resources to explain the choice that Alice makes, even though she could have made a different choice.

However, there needs to be more in the picture if we are to fully account for Alice’s choice. After all, if Alice had all these reasons but then something external forced her to choose one way or the other, then we wouldn’t say that she freely chose anything. Because of this, we need to include an additional condition, to the effect that a free choice is something that arises from the agent themselves rather than being externally imposed upon them. From an Aristotelian perspective, this means that a free choice must result from an act within Alice, in which the agent moves themselves from being impressed by reasons for her different options to pursuing one of those options rather than the others. More generally, this “act of choosing” or “act of arbitration” is one in which the agent comprehends all the reasons for the various options, arbitrates between them, and exercises the relevant power for choice that is grounded by the relevant reasons.

Now, this act of choosing will be the same regardless of which option ends up being chosen. We can retroactively qualify in terms of the particular choice that was made—as the act of choosing A or the act of choosing B—but this will just be a world-relative way of thinking about an act which in itself is unqualified and the same in each world—the act of choosing between A and B. After all, the act of choosing is part of the explanation which is supposed to be compatible with either choice. And if there were distinct acts of choosing A and of choosing B, then neither would be compatible with the contrary choice.

So, in the case of human choice, we can distinguish between three stages. In the first stage we understand something as worthy of pursuit for some reason, which includes it among the options of our choice and constitutes a power for us to pursue it. In the second stage, we apply the act of choosing, whereby we comprehend the options, arbitrate between them, and exercise one of these powers. This transitions us to the third stage, wherein we actually pursue the option we chose in the second. We may speculate that in some choices (such as the choice to believe something) there is really no third stage. But at least in most cases, the third stage is necessary in humans because we will need to move or change ourselves in some way in order to pursue anything.

Human choice is broken up into stages like this because everything we do is achieved through the successive actualizations of various potentials. By contrast, in God there are no potentials, and therefore no need for such a succession. God does not need to discover anything, or deliberate over the options by considering one feature and then the next. Instead, in his one act he knows the options immediately and altogether. As such, both first and second stages of the above process occur together: God comprehends the options and arbitrates between them all at once. Furthermore, God does not need to change himself in order to pursue the option he chooses. He doesn’t need to get his body in position or start thinking about something else before he can do something, but immediately causes his choice. So either we should say that there just is no third stage with God, or that it occurs along with the first two.

The upshot of this is that God’s one act involves an act of choosing, and an act of choosing is something which allows for alternate outcomes. So, while it’s true that God does the same thing in every possible world, the thing he does involves choosing which world to actualize, and is therefore compatible with any number of worlds resulting from it.

Summary of the book of Job

Below is a summary of the dialogue in Job that I put together as part of working through the book. The book is long, and the purpose of this was to capture the gist of what each person was saying so that I could get a handle on what they were arguing.

The story starts with Job having everything taken away from him and being stricken by disease despite his being a righteous person. He is greatly distressed by this, and as a result wishes that his life would just end so that he need not have to continue struggling through this unwarranted treatment from God. Throughout the dialogue he maintains that he is righteous and that this suffering cannot be the punishment for his wickedness, leading him to question why God would inflict it upon him.

His three friends, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar try to comfort him by explaining why God would have brought such calamity to him, but their attempts all presume too simplistic a model of how God governs the world. Towards the end, Elihu comes and rebukes the three friends for being incapable of upholding the righteousness of God in the face of Job’s complaints. Unlike the other three, Job does not respond to Elihu and God does not reprimand him (42:7–9). This suggests that he is on the right track.

Eliphaz believes that God blesses the pious, and so urges Job to stop wishing his life away and to praise God rather than blame him, so that he can reap blessing. As the dialogue progresses it becomes apparent that he does assume Job has done something wrong, but his primary concern is with what Job does next in order to become blessed.

Bildad believes that God judges the wicked and rewards the righteous, and so urges Job to turn to God in righteousness rather than wish the fate of the wicked upon himself. From his point of view, Job’s family must have been judged for their wickedness and Job is doing himself no favor by wishing this same fate upon himself. He does not think Job is necessarily being judged, but that he should definitely stop asking for it.

Zophar believes that God only judges us because of our wickedness, and that since Job is being judged he must be keeping some sin of his secret. He urges Job to confess and move on, so that he can be right with God again and be done with his punishment.

Elihu believes that God works in ways that we might not expect because he is not a mere human. He judges the wicked and blesses the righteous, sure, but he could also bring calamity to the righteous in order to keep them from falling into wickedness. It’s not like God owes it to us to give us blessing all the time, and ultimately whether we’re righteous or wicked depends on how we respond to suffering. So he criticizes Job for having become a scoffer in response to his suffering, the exact opposite of what he should have done.


(1–2) Job is righteous and God is proud of him. One of the members of the divine court challenge him, saying that Job is only righteous because God has blessed him, and that were Job to suffer he would reject God. God permits him to cause suffering to Job, so long as he doesn’t kill him.

Job (3): I wish I’d never been born, and am amazed that life is given to someone in such misery.

Eliphaz (4–5): You, who comforted others, do you not see that God will bring prosperity to the innocent? Only the evil will perish in their ways, so wishing this upon yourself is wrongheaded. Accept your troubles, and look to God for relief rather than wishing death upon yourself.

Job (6–7): My complaint stands! I have sought God and yet gotten punished severely. Therefore I will continue to despise my troubles.

Bildad (8): How long will you speak like this? God judges the wicked and the righteous according to their deeds. If your children died because of their sin do not join them in cursing God because of it. Rather, be righteous and find prosperity!

Job (9–10): How might I plead my case to this God, who wounds me in spite of my perfection? If in putting off my sorrows I get punished anyway, then what point is there in doing so? As it is, I’m afraid of him and don’t think he’ll stop judging me even if I repent. There is no mediator between us, who can hold his rod back. All I want is for this God, who takes pleasure in punishing his creation, to give me relief for the short time before I fade into nothingness.

Zophar (11): It will do you no good to hide things from God, for he knows all. Repent without holding on to sin secretly and your ailment will be remedied.

Job (12:1–13:12): Am I inferior to you so that I don’t know these things as well? I have seen that God brings both good and evil, and you lie when you say it is otherwise. Would you lie in defense of God? I know that I am righteous, so I will continue in my complaint. If there were someone to show me wrong, then I’d happily admit defeat.

Job to God (13:13–14:22): So then, I ask two things. Withdraw your hand from me that I might not fear to come near, and tell me of my sin. You know that man is limited, and that unlike the tree he has no hope. The tree will sprout again after its death, but not so for man. He remains dead until the end of the heavens. Please, kill me and hide me in Sheol, that I might be hidden from this scourge of life. Oh that the day would come when you honor your creation, but as it is you wear him down and destroy his hope.

Eliphaz (15): We are not to be ignored, for we have the wisdom of our fathers from long ago. You turn away from devotion to God to your own demise. How can you speak of righteousness when not even his heavens are righteous? The man who acts arrogantly toward God is to be afraid of him, and it is better for him not to trust in himself! Do not describe yourself in these terms.

Job (16–17): So much for being my friends! You have given me no comfort in my day of difficulty. God has smitten me and broken me into pieces, and everyone has turned against me. Not only this, but he has made my friends incapable of understanding what is happening. My life is over and my hope is dashed. If I have already turned to desire Sheol then what hope is there left for me to hope in?

Bildad (18): Do not treat us like idiots. Consider this, and then we can talk: surely you are wishing the outcome of the wicked upon yourself[, you who say you are righteous].

Job (19): How long will you attack me with your words, by disgracing me [who is righteous]? God has already disgraced me in every way, and more I my intimate friends have turned on me. Have mercy on me, for God has already stricken me. Know that you who attack me will reap judgement for it, from God my redeemer.

Zophar (20): Why do you insult us with your harsh criticism (censure)? You know from old that the exaltation of the wicked is short-lived. For the evil he holds on to destroys himself, and his insatiable desire is finally fulfilled by God’s judgement upon him. Then the heavens will reveal his iniquity.

Job (21): Hear me out, and then you can continue mocking me. Look at me — am I not appalling to you? Now look at the wicked. They live long and prosper, they are glad and rejoice, they scoff at God and the die peacefully. Clearly I am not being led by them! How often are they really punished, as you say? Are living under a rock?! Who can teach God? He judges everyone. And we see the same overcome the prosperous and the poor. Now I know that you scene against me, because you ask me to reveal to my sin, but have you looked around? The wicked prosper, and others follow them[, quite unlike my situation, so you must be picking on me]! Your words are nothing.

Eliphaz (22): Is it any gain to God if you are blameless? Is he judging you for fearing him? Surely not, it’s because you are wicked. You have done evil, and so God punishes you. You mock God, saying that he’s too far away to know how to run the world[, letting the wicked prosper]. Turn back to God and He will establish you. Lift your face to him, and he will deliver even the one who is not innocent.

Job (23–24): If I stood before God and pleaded my case, then he would judge me righteous. But I cannot find him to do so. I have kept his ways but there is no way for me to change what he has planned for me, and so I dread him. Why doesn’t God judge the wicked on schedule? They do so much evil — worse than what you claim I’ve done — and their victims have nothing, they tread the winepresses but suffer thirst. You say the wicked are judged quickly, yet it seems to me that God prolongs their lives. Please, prove me wrong!

Bildad (25): Listen, God is above all and has armies beyond measure. How could any man be right before him? Even the stars are dim in his eyes, man is a but maggot to him.

Job (26): Wow, so helpful! God is too big to be put into such a simple box!

Job (27): With God as my witness I will not lie by agreeing with all of you. I am righteous and will not make myself wicked by deceit. For what hope is there for the wicked? He does not die quickly, but eventually he or his children reap what he has sown.

Job (28): In searching out gold and silver man has gone places that beasts could not discover, but he has not found wisdom there. Nor can he buy it with gold or silver he made. The birds above have not seen it, nor can anything in the land of the living. Even Death and Abaddon have heard only rumors of it. God however, has seen it and understands the ways to it. For he looks to the ends of the earth and sees everything under the heavens. He’s told man that’s it the fear of God which is wisdom.

Job (29–31): I’ve walked the way of the righteous, for those near me and for strangers. People honored me and thought me a friend of God. But now they laugh at me and turn against me. Didn’t I help the oppressed? But now that I’m oppressed there is no help for me. If I have done any evil then let God cast me down. But I’m righteous! Tell me what my fault is, let my adversary write down the indictment.

Elihu (32): I am young and so I’ve been waiting for wisdom to be revealed by my elders. But behold, you have found no answer to Job! Surely it is not age that gives wisdom but the spirit God gives us, thus I can no longer hold in my opinion on the matter, and flatter my fellow humans by listening to them.

Elihu (33): Job, listen to me, your fellow human who has heard what you’ve been saying. You have said that God is unjustly against you, but you are wrong to complain at him, claiming that he does not hear your cries. God is no mere man like you and I, and he speaks to us in ways that we might at first not notice. In a dream, perhaps, he might terrify us in order to turn us away from pride. In our pain he might rebuke us, that we might be saved from a path leading to death. He does all sorts of things that we may know that he is the source of life.

Elihu (34): You men of understanding, Job has complained about God doing him injustice and thereby numbered himself among the scoffers. Far be it from God, the Judge of everything, that he should do wickedness — no-one has given him this role [that he might fail in it]. Quite the opposite: he calls kings nothing and noblemen wicked! Furthermore, he knows all and does not need anyone to being their case before him. He judges all according to how it really is, and Job has made himself wicked by presuming otherwise [in response to his suffering].

Elihu (35): Job, do you really think you righteousness entitles you to anything before God [so that he couldn’t use affliction for more than judgement]? If you sin, do you affect him? And likewise if you do right? These things only affect your fellow humans. When people cry to God out of selfish ambition rather than awe for God, their cries are empty and God does not answer. So too, Job, your cries are empty because you speak without understanding.

Elihu (36–37): Let me speak of the righteousness of God, with knowledge that is [apparently] far from this place. God does not despise anyone: he helps the afflicted and destroys the wicked. The godless hold onto their anger when faced with difficulty, but for others learn from their affliction and grow from it. You must not be so quick to turn to wrath, which then becomes scoffing. God is a great and powerful teacher, and you must remember to extol his work [rather than fall into resentment]. Just look at all the complex ways in which nature works — that’s him! We know not how he orchestrates anything, for he is so high and mighty, something it would be good for you to keep in mind. “Therefore men fear him; he does not regard any who are wise in their own conceit.”

God (38:1–40:2): Who is speaking without knowledge, confusing the matter? Get ready Job, because I’m going to question you now [as you asked]. Tell me, where were you when I built everything you see? Have you been to the gates of death itself? Do you order the sea, the clouds, light and darkness? Who is it that gives wisdom and takes it away? Is it by your understanding that all animals move and live? You who wish to argue with God, give me an answer.

Job (40:3–5): How can I answer? I am nothing [compared to you]. I have spoken, but I dare not say any more.

God (40:6–41:34): Well, get ready, because I will question you further. Will you condemn me in order to establish yourself in the right? Do you think you are more fit to be the Judge? If so, then in your anger go — destroy all the wicked, let’s see you do it. On the day you do it I will acknowledge that you don’t need me. [But you can’t!] Consider the Behemoth and the Leviathan: even these beasts cause you to tremble, and I made them!

Job (42:1–6): I see that you are above all things. I was rash to dean your present so that I could tell you off, but I see now that I did so out of ignorance. I had only heard about you before, but now I see you with my eyes, and “therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.”

(42:7–17) Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar are reprimanded by God: “My anger burns against [you three] for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.” (42:7) God commands them to offer burnt offerings, and ask Job to pray for them, that God might forgive them. Then God restores Job’s fortunes and eventually “Job died, an old man, and full of days.” (42:17)

Through the law I died to the law

I was recently listening to a sermon on Galatians, and the following statement by Paul caught my eye:

For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. (2:19)

This got me thinking that the law might have a more important role in salvation history than I had previously considered. To see what I mean, consider the ways that the law is related to sin. First, the law teaches us about sin, helping us to understand it for what it is. Second, the law condemns sin as disobedience against God. We see both of these, for instance, in what Paul says elsewhere:

Now we know that whatever the law says it speaks to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be stopped, and the whole world may be held accountable to God. For by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight, since through the law comes knowledge of sin. (Rom 3:19–20)

This statement from Galatians suggested to me that we should consider adding a third item to this list: what if the law also provides the means by which sin and death could be escaped? I don’t mean this in the sense that by living under the law we could somehow escape sin and death — we know that this is only possible through Christ. What I’m suggesting is that the law provided the mechanism that Christ leveraged in order to rescue us from sin and death.

The law as a means of escape from sin

In order to see how this works, we need to briefly remind ourselves of the story of sin, death, and the law. This is most clearly unpacked in Romans 5–7, but it also underlies the much shorter treatment in Galatians 3. In Romans 5, Paul introduces the story like this:

Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned — for sin indeed was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not counted where there is no law. Yet death reigned from Adam to Moses, even over those whose sinning was not like the transgression of Adam, who was a type of the one who was to come. (Rom 5:12–14)

As he begins comparing Adam and Jesus, Paul interrupts himself to make sure we’re all on the same page. “Sin was in the world, you understand, long before the law was given, but it not was reckoned to anyone before there was a law. And yet, even though people were not sinning in ways reckoned by a law (as with Adam, who had been given an explicit command) they were nevertheless dying.” Sin and death reign even though sin is not being counted by the law, which is a huge problem. Counted or not, sin is contrary to God’s created order — it corrupts us and goes against our flourishing (Rom 3:23), and it produces death in us (Rom 2:12–16). But without some kind of reckoning, this corruption is nebulous and intractable: it’s not a “thing” that we can contain (or count), but just an indiscernible corrosive power within God’s good creation. How do you begin to address sin when it’s concealed like this? How could you forgive it without it first being reckoned? How do you cleanse it without it first being counted?

You can’t. Using different imagery, without some reckoning sin was free to roam around in the darkness and wreak devastation without any way to handle it. So, God introduced a law that covered all of sin, rather than just the single command given to Adam. How does this help? Paul gives us two answers, one in Romans and one in Galatians. In Romans, he notes that a law is escapable through death:

Or do you not know, brothers — for I am speaking to those who know the law — that the law is binding on a person only as long as he lives? For a married woman is bound by law to her husband while he lives, but if her husband dies she is released from the law of marriage. Accordingly, she will be called an adulteress if she lives with another man while her husband is alive. But if her husband dies, she is free from that law, and if she marries another man she is not an adulteress. (Rom 7:1–3)

And as he had argued earlier, we who trust in Christ have died with him (Rom 6:1–14), and are therefore released from the law:

Likewise, my brothers, you also have died to the law through the body of Christ, so that you may belong to another, to him who has been raised from the dead, in order that we may bear fruit for God. For while we were living in the flesh, our sinful passions, aroused by the law, were at work in our members to bear fruit for death. But now we are released from the law, having died to that which held us captive, so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit and not in the old way of the written code. (Rom 7:4–6)

So, before the law sin was an intractable corruption, but once sin is covered by a law we have a means by which to escape it, namely death. Put another way, before the law death was just a consequence of sin, but with the law it becomes the means of escaping it. Of course, it’s not a means for us to take hold of ourselves. Instead, the law makes Christ’s death, in which we share, capable of releasing us from sin.

In Galatians, Paul uses the notion of a curse to explain the same thing. On this account, the law curses anyone who does not obey it, and Christ became a curse for us so that we might be redeemed from the law, and the sin that it condemned:

For all who rely on works of the law are under a curse; for it is written, “Cursed be everyone who does not abide by all things written in the Book of the Law, and do them.” Now it is evident that no one is justified before God by the law, for “The righteous shall live by faith.” But the law is not of faith, rather “The one who does them shall live by them.” Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us — for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree” — so that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles, so that we might receive the promised Spirit through faith. (Gal 3:10–14)

So, the law curses our sinfulness, allowing Christ to become a curse for us and thereby redeem us.

In both cases, then, we might say that the law introduces the “middle term” that connects our sin to Christ’s redeeming work, such that that which was nebulous and inescapable becomes concrete and escapable — granted, of course, that we have Christ to achieve this escape for us. The law circumscribes sin and provides the means of escaping it, so that through the law I may die to the law and thereby escape sin. Again, we must underscore the fact that this is not achieved by me directly, but in my sharing in Christ’s death. The law does not provide a means by which I can release myself from sin, but a means by which Christ can redeem me and secure my escape from sin.

Comparing this to some other things Paul says

Having outlined this third relationship between sin and the law, it would be good to comment briefly on two other things Paul has to say, one in Romans and one in Galatians.

In Romans, Paul says that sin produces death in us through the law (7:13), but I’ve said that death was a consequence of sin before the law. Well, in fact it is not I who said this, but Paul himself. He is clear that even without the law we will die and be judged (Rom 2:12–16), and that before there was a law to count it people died because of their sin (5:12–14). Paul’s statement in Rom 7:13 appears in the context of a train of thought that began earlier with these words:

… if it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin. For I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, “You shall not covet.” (Rom 7:7)

Even though sin can produce death in us without the law, it is only that sin that can be known as such from creation (Rom 1:18–32). There will be other sin that cannot be known in this way — Paul uses the example of coveting — so that when the law comes and condemns all sin it includes these sins as well. It seems that in Rom 7 Paul is talking with reference to these, or at least with reference to the increased responsibility that comes with the disclosure of the law.

Turning to Galatians, Paul says that the law “was added because of transgressions” (Gal 3:19), and then goes on to say the following:

Now before faith came, we were held captive under the law, imprisoned until the coming faith would be revealed. So then, the law was our guardian until Christ came, in order that we might be justified by faith. But now that faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian, for in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith. (Gal 3:23–26)

Now, I think these statements can be coherently interpreted in terms of the first two ways the law relates to sin (making it known, and condemning it), but the third way we’ve considered in this post develops this picture nicely. As we’ve been saying, the law was added in order to circumscribe sin in anticipation of the day when Christ would come and open up the way to escape it through his death under the law.

Divine simplicity and freedom

In the conversation on divine simplicity over at the Theopolis Institute, Mullins’ most recent response draws attention to the three premises that are “only affirmed by proponents of divine simplicity”:

  1. All of God’s actions are identical to each other such that there is only one divine act.
  2. God’s act to give grace is identical to God’s one divine act.
  3. God’s one divine act is identical to God’s existence.

After which come the following steps:

  1. Therefore, God’s one divine act is absolutely necessary.
  2. If God’s one divine act is absolutely necessary, then God’s act to give grace is absolutely necessary.
  3. Therefore, God’s act to give grace is absolutely necessary.

This implication is problematic for Christians because we hold that God is free to withhold grace if he chooses, which means his act of giving grace cannot be necessary.

But, while proponents of divine simplicity do indeed affirm (9)–(11), we reject (13) and therefore reject the conclusion in (14). In order to see how this works, it would be good to consider a parallel argument involving a more familiar situation. Imagine that whenever Alice is put in some circumstance C she must choose between two options, A and B. Assuming that Alice has libertarian free will, in some possible worlds she will choose A and in other possible worlds she will choose B. Supposing that in the actual world she chooses A, we have the following argument:

  1. Alice’s choice of A is identical to her choice between A and B.
  2. Alice necessarily chooses between A and B in circumstance C.
  3. Therefore Alice necessarily chooses A in circumstance C.

Now, (3) is false on our supposition about Alice’s free will. The problem with this argument is that (1) is ambiguous. If the identity in view is necessary (that is, if “Alice’s choice of A” is a rigid designator for “Alice’s choice between A and B”), then the argument is valid but the premise is obviously false. If, on the other hand, the identity in view is world-relative (that is, if it is just making a claim about the actual world), then the premise is true but the argument is invalid by virtue of committing a modal scope fallacy.

To give a common example of this fallacy, consider the following argument which is a direct parallel of our choice argument:

  1. The number of planets in our solar system is identical to eight.
  2. Eight is necessarily greater than seven.
  3. Therefore the number of planets in our solar system is necessarily greater than seven.

The first premise of this planet argument suffers the same ambiguity and pitfalls as the first premise of the choice argument. The reason for this in the choice argument comes down to the nature of libertarian choice: the same act of choosing can amount in different choices in different worlds.

But there is a subtle and interesting response lurking in the vicinity. In libertarian choices, the response goes, the choice between A and B is a deliberative act which consists in Alice weighing the reasons for preferring A over B up against the reasons for preferring B over A, while the choice of A is the resultant act of Alice pursuing A. Thus, despite initial appearances, the choices are not identical acts, but are two distinct acts, one of which causes the other in a non-deterministic way. In God’s case, however, we have one act rather than two, and so the parallel doesn’t work.

Does such a response rebuff our objection? I don’t think so, for it still grants that there is indeterminism in the deliberative act, which is sufficient for our purposes. With this we can reframe the choice argument as follows:

  1. The act that causes Alice to pursue A is identical to her deliberative act.
  2. Alice necessarily engages in her deliberative act in circumstance C.
  3. Therefore, Alice necessarily engages in the act that causes her to pursue A in circumstance C.

We see here the same problems with the identity in premise (1), despite granting the distinction introduced by the response.

But can we just ignore Alice’s second act of pursuing A? Here we must appreciate an important difference between God’s choices and ours. Alice’s pursuit of A does not belong to her choosing per se, but rather to the execution of the choice she had already made in her deliberative act. Humans need this additional step because our actions find their expression through our bodies — we need to move somewhere, communicate something, start a new thought process, or something else. But God needs no additional act of execution, he acts without need for mediation — he does not need to work through a body and does not depend on other things to bring about his effects. God’s one divine act consists of him choosing which world to actualize based on the the contrastive reasons for preferring each world over the alternatives, including factors such as whether to create anything or not, and whether to give grace or not. This is analogous to Alice’s deliberative act, although without any need for actual deliberation, since God is immediately aware of the all the relevant reasons and does not need to weigh them up successively. And because God is not limited like we are, this one act immediately produces its effects rather than requiring a follow-up act to bring it about.

So, proponents of divine simplicity should reject premise (13) of Mullins’ argument because the identities in premises (9)–(11), while true, are not sufficient to do the work he needs them to do.

Paul’s eschatological ethics

There was a distinct moment when it dawned on me that I had missed something important in Paul’s thinking on the Christian motivations for doing good works. During a Bible study we were busy discussing the following passage:

Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. For the commandments, “You shall not commit adultery, You shall not murder, You shall not steal, You shall not covet”, and any other commandment, are summed up in this word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.

Besides this you know the time, that the hour has come for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed. The night is far gone; the day is at hand. So then let us cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. Let us walk properly as in the daytime, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and sensuality, not in quarreling and jealousy. But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires. (Rom 13:8–14)

Paul gives two reasons for why our lives should be characterized by love. The first is that love fulfills the law, and in the course of the preceding discussion of Romans we’ve seen that the law is something good and from God, and therefore something desirable. When turning to the second reason he shifts into metaphorical language, saying that we should awake from sleep and walk in the light. From the way he proceeds to talk it is clear that this is another way of speaking about obedience to God, but what’s interesting is the motivation he gives for it. He says that, “the hour has come for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed.” (13:11)

Now, if it is not clear to you why this is significant, let me back up and explain. For the longest time I had thought of the motivations for obedience in terms of what we might call “past-orientated” and “present-orientated” ways. Paul himself sometimes refers to these kinds of motivations in his letters, and so it wasn’t without warrant that I thought in these terms. For example, he urges the Corinthians to use their bodies with integrity because they are the temple of the Holy Spirit, and reminds them that they are no longer their own but were bought at a price (1 Cor 6:19–20, 7:22–24). He encourages the Ephesians to forgive one another because God hadforgiven them in Christ (Eph 4:32), and to walk in love as Christ had loved them (5:1–2). He calls the Philippians to follow the example that was set by Christ in putting others before oneself (Phil 2:4–6), and he explains to Timothy that Christ had set an example in his perfect patience for those who were to believe in him (1 Tim 1:16). The problem was this: I had so habituated myself into thinking in terms of past- and present-orientated motivations that I had unconsciously excluded the possibility of future-orientated motivations altogether.

And I would learn in that Bible study two things. First, it was not just me, but everyone in the discussion had done the same thing. And second, there was more to the problem than I originally thought. I pointed out the future-orientated motivation Paul gives in the passage, and with great interest asked the natural next question: how is our hope of future salvation supposed to motivate our present actions? I wasn’t equipped to answer the question, since it had never occurred to me to ask it before. But I discovered that night that no-one else was equipped to answer it either. The others did their best to give answers, but every attempt was inescapably couched in past- or present-orientated language, and once the fatigue of failed attempts became too much to bear the conversation moved on. But the question remained unanswered, and I remained unsatisfied.

This was roughly two years ago, and I haven’t stopped thinking about this since then. In the course of puzzling over it, I’ve come to refer to this feature of Paul’s thought as his “eschatological ethics.” Ethics because it has to do with living well in obedience to our creator and Lord, and eschatological because the motivation for this obedience arises from our hope in salvation on the final day, called the “eschaton” in theology, and often referred to as the “day of the Lord” in scripture. It’s worth giving this feature of Paul’s thought a name because, as it turns out, future-orientated motivations come up more often than past- or presented-orientated ones. We cannot understate the significance of this point. It means that without the adequate conceptual tools and practice in using them, we will miss how one of the New Testament’s most prolific writers connects his theology with its ethical implications.

Now, for a long while I had tried in vain to determine the way this connection was supposed to work. That is, I had sought the single motivational link connecting our future hope and present actions that could explain how Paul can so easily draw out the various ethical implications he does. More recently, however, I have come to realize that Paul actually recognizes more than one such link, and that he happily emphasizes different ones depending on the occasion of the particular letter we’re reading. In light of this realization, the task shifts from trying to find an abstract enough link that explains everything, to categorizing multiple links and reflecting on how they relate to one another.

In what follows, we will look at examples of Paul’s eschatological ethics, and then discuss three ways that our future hope is linked to our present actions.

Examples of Paul’s eschatological ethics

Paul does not seem to have developed a technical vocabulary for speaking about the connection between future hope and present action, but he does have general ways of speaking about hope and action separately. Although some of his letters are quite systematic they are still letters written for different purposes, and so we find him using a wide vocabulary and different imagery when talking about particular topics.

When he speaks about hope he has in mind a forward-looking anticipation for salvation on the day of the Lord. Connected to this is, naturally enough, a future-orientated understanding of salvation itself — an example of which we saw above in the Romans passage — as well as the idea of a calling to this hope — examples of which we will see in due course. And although used more fluidly, he also refers to the future glory that will be revealed on the final day.

Regarding good action, or obedience, Paul uses various metaphors and terms. We saw above that the expression of this action is love, and that it is spoken of metaphorically as walking in the light. Other times he will speak of being sober-minded or self-controlled. Or he will use the metaphor of athletics and refer to competing according to the rules, while other times he will use language more inspired by Old Testament law and refer to cleansing ourselves from defilement.

The variety of his language goes beyond this small sample, as we will see in the list below. We will consider a number of passages in the order that they appear in the New Testament, skipping over the Romans passage we considered above. This list is quite long, partly to make a point about how ubiquitous this kind of thinking is in Paul. The length notwithstanding, this list only contains those references where the future-orientated motivations are easily discerned and separated out from the broader context of his argument — which is to say, there is even more out there.

Romans 15:1–4

We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. For Christ did not please himself, but as it is written, “The reproaches of those who reproached you fell on me.” For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.

He explains that as fellow members of Christ’s body (cf. 12:3–21) we are to help each other in our weakness (present action), that we might endure until the end and thereby not lose hope (future hope).

1 Corinthians 9:24–27

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So, run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So, I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.

This comes as an explanation for Paul’s serving of others as an apostle of the gospel of Jesus, that he may share in the blessings that it brings with those who hear and accept it (cf. 9:23). The analogy of runners in a race clearly recognizes a prize at the end (future hope) as the motivation for running with self-control so that he may not be disqualified (present action).

1 Corinthians 15:32b–34

If the dead are not raised, “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” Do not be deceived: “Bad company ruins good morals.” Wake up from your drunken stupor, as is right, and do not go on sinning. For some have no knowledge of God. I say this to your shame.

The “dead being raised” refers to the resurrection of the dead on the day of the Lord, when everyone will be judged. In the surrounding discussion, Paul is defending the resurrection of Jesus as a pre-figuring of this final resurrection, and using this as a motivation for the Corinthians to get their act together. Without the hope of such a resurrection (and implied judgment) there is little reason to act in obedience to God, but with such a hope there is very good reason to do so. Thus, in light of the resurrection (future hope), he calls them to wake up from their drunken stupor and live appropriately (present action).

2 Corinthians 5:9–10

So, whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. For we must all appear before the judgement seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil.

Here it is clear that the future judgment motivates our present actions.

2 Corinthians 7:1

Since we have these promises, beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit, bringing holiness to completion in the fear of God.

The promises he is referring to were just stated in the preceding context (2 Cor 6:16–18), and speak of God’s promise that he will welcome his people (future hope) if they separate themselves from uncleanness (present action). From this it is clear that complete (or perfect) holiness refers to being with God most fully, which is the result of salvation on the day of the Lord, and which Paul sees here as motivating us to cleanse ourselves.

Galatians 5:5, 22–23

For through the Spirit, by faith we ourselves eagerly wait for the hope of righteousness… But the fruit of the Spirit is love: joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.

Here the fruit of the Spirit are the present actions produced by the work of the Spirit, which involves pointing us to our future hope.

Galatians 6:7–9

Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh will form the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life. And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.

Here he uses the analogy of the farmer reaping (future hope) the consequences of what they sow (present action), which is explicitly stated to be “doing good.” No doubt, this is a meditation on the previous chapter’s discussion of the work and fruit of the Spirit.

Philippians 2:12–13

Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.

It is clear from this that Paul understood part of their motivation to be the working out of their salvation. That it is still to be worked out indicates that it is a future reality to which we strain to make our own.

Colossians 1:4–5

We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you, since we heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love that you have for all the saints, because of the hope laid up for you in heaven.

Paul notes that it is the hope of the Colossians that motivates their love for all the saints.

Colossians 1:21–23

And you, who once were alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before him, if indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard.

The presentation of them as holy and blameless is clearly a future reality, describing what will happen on the day of the Lord (cf. 2 Cor 1:14). This is clear since it is contingent on their continuing in the faith which, given the contrast with hostility of mind and doing evil deeds, no doubt carries with it the idea of obedience.

Colossians 3:1–5

If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory. Put to death therefore what is earthly in you…

At first Paul appears to be giving a past-orientated motivation for action, saying that we have died with Christ. But then, just before we get to the command to put our earthly passions to death, he switches to a future-orientated motivation, pointing us to the day when our life will appear with Christ in glory. This illustrates nicely a way of thinking about the connection between the present and future that can be seen elsewhere in Paul (eg. Eph 2:1–6, Phil 3:8–16), where our future hope is spoken about in terms of a present status. The best way to think about this is that in the present we are set on the trajectory toward a future hope that previously was out of reach. And just like a trajectory is identified by its being ordered toward a target, so too is our present status, when discussed in these ways, identified by its ordering us toward our future hope. Thus, Paul finds little difficulty switching between the two as he does in this above passage.

1 Thessalonians 5:8–11

But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, having put on the breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope of salvation. For God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us so that whether we are [alive] or [dead] we might live with him. Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.

Paul uses the language of being awake and sober again, and the motivation given for this is the destiny of salvation that God has laid out for us.

2 Thessalonians 2:14–15

To this he called you through our gospel, so that you may obtain the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. So then, brothers, stand firm and hold to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by our spoken word or by our letter.

Future glory is the motivation to stand firm to the traditions, which we see later are connected with proper action (3:6).

1 Timothy 4:6–10

If you put these things before the brothers, you will be a good servant of Christ Jesus, being trained in the words of the faith and of the good doctrine that you have followed. Have nothing to do with irreverent, silly myths. Rather train yourself for godliness; for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come. The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance. For to this end we toil and strive, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe.

The value of godliness and the end toward which we strive is the hope of eternal life with the living God.

1 Timothy 6:11–14

But as for you, O man of God, flee these things. Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses. I charge you… to keep the commandment unstained and free from reproach until the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Paul starts by listing all these components of Christian life, which eventually leads to a statement about its motivation: to take hold of the eternal life to which you were called, and to keep going until the appearing of Jesus on the day of the Lord.

1 Timothy 6:18–19

[The rich] are to do good, to be rich in good works, to be generous and ready to share, thus storing up treasure for themselves as a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of that which is truly life.

The motivation for action is to take hold of true life, which is eternal life in the future.

2 Timothy 2:3–6

Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him. An athlete is not crowned unless he competes according to the rules. It is the hard-working farmer who ought to have the first share of the crops.

Particularly the athlete and farmer analogies make sense only if we understand the life of a Christian as one governed by looking forward.

2 Timothy 4:6–8

For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing.

In reflecting on his life, Paul understood it as something done motivated by what will happen on the last day.

Titus 2:11–14

For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works.

Paul characterizes the life of people who have been saved and who are zealous for good works as that of waiting for their blessed hope.

Having gone through references from across Paul’s writings in the New Testament, we now come to the question of how future hope is meant to motivate present action. As can be seen from the passages above, Paul does not always state how he understands the link between the future and the present to work. Often he is satisfied to point his readers to the future and call them to act appropriately in light of it. Nevertheless, I think at least three links can be discerned from his discussions.

In a previous post we explained that works still play an important role in our future salvation, even though we are justified by faith alone. This realization is key to understanding the first link between our future hope in this salvation and the way we conduct our lives. As we explained in that post:

… at the last judgement, only those who have lived perfectly obedient lives will be saved from God’s wrath. However, because everyone sins, we can at best live an imperfectly obedient life. Even though we desire God and seek him with an obedient heart, we cannot escape punishment ourselves because we cannot undo our previous failures. This is akin to a murderer who has since repented of his crimes, but still awaits punishment: it doesn’t matter how many people he saves, he is still guilty of murder and deserving of punishment.

Without the justification brought by Christ there is no middle ground between (1) a perfectly obedient life leading to life with God and (2) a sinful life leading to punishment. The implicit problem with this is that the former is out of reach, as should be clear to anyone who’s ever tried to live such a life. But if the latter option is inevitable, then it’s difficult to see what could motivate someone who has sinned to continue to try and be obedient. As Paul says, “If the dead are not raised, ‘Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.’”

Jesus changes things by opening up a third way, namely an imperfectly obedient life perfected through justification by faith alone.1 Turning to him as King and doing your best to live under him is now sufficient to obtain the life with God that was previously out of reach, provided we continue to the end. And this is why the hope of future salvation for sinners motivates present action. We need to continue in our obedience perfected by faith until the end to take hold of the prize. Furthermore, this obedience will correspond to the complete ethical life, since our Lord is not just anyone, but the supreme creator who seeks our flourishing as the kinds of creatures he made us to be.

Nevertheless there are plenty of things that might get in the way of our continuing to the end, whether they be internal weaknesses or external pressures. Thus Paul calls Christians to endure, to stand firm until the end, to not give up, to value self-control, and to remember the immeasurable value of what we strive for.

While the first link conceives of present action as a precondition for our future salvation, the second conceives of it in terms of living up to the status we have been given — the status of being Christ’s treasured possession that will be presented to him on the final day.

We saw this in the Titus passage above, where Paul explains that we are to live godly lives while we wait for the appearing of Jesus, who gave himself “to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works.” (Tit 2:14) As he continues to reflect on this in the verses that follow he describes good works as “excellent and profitable” (3:8) while denouncing the opposite as “unprofitable and worthless.” (3:9) Given how he’s just described the final day, we must surely read these assessments in light of how our present actions contribute to or frustrate our being presented as a treasured possession of our creator and Lord.

This idea of living a life worthy of this future comes up elsewhere in Paul’s letters (Eph 4:1–5, Col 1:9–10), although not always in as straightforward a way as we see in Titus. Sometimes he will use the metaphor of a wedding ceremony and describe the church as a bride to be presented to her husband (Eph 5:25–27, 2 Cor 11:2). Other times he will speak of living so that we might be able to boast of one another on the final day (2 Cor 1:13–14, 1 Thess 2:19–20, Phil 2:14–16). Still other times he will speak of it in terms of us achieving glory in some sense (Rom 8:18–21, 2 Cor 3:18).

Now, the idea of glory is a bit obscure to modern ears, but it can help us understand what it means to “live up to” our status. It is sufficient for our purposes to note that a thing’s glory is the basis for it being appreciated, respected, or approved. The kind of glory Paul has in mind here is that of an inferior in the eyes of their superior, like a child before their parent, a student before their teacher, or (in Paul’s case) a creature before their creator.2 In each case the inferior takes pleasure in the approval of their superior, as when a father is proud of his son or a teacher is impressed by the hard work of her pupil. And it often happens that an inferior’s desire for such approval will express itself in the present with an eye to a future appraisal of their work by their superior. This is the sort of situation we find ourselves with Christ. Knowing that one day we will be presented to him, we do our best to live in such a way that is pleasing to him, so that when he looks at the manner of our life we might be found worthy of the divine accolade “Well done, good and faithful servant.” (Matt 25:21, 23, Luke 19:17)

Some might object to this on the grounds that what we are suggesting looks a lot like conceit or vanity, neither of which seem like appropriate motivations for the ethical life. But appearances can be deceiving, and we must not confuse a healthy appreciation of our work for corrupted versions of it. We should avoid overestimating the value of our work (conceit), but we should also avoid underestimating it, since both extremes fail to properly appreciate the good in one’s life. And we should avoid treating outward expressions as if they were everything (vanity), but neither should we settle for good intentions alone. Furthermore, arrogance has no place in a desire that is peculiarly that of an inferior looking to the approval of their superior.

But perhaps the problem is not with the appreciation of our work, but with the fact that we do good things for the appreciation of someone else. I think this objection gets at something important, for surely Christ wishes us to help others out of genuine love for them and not simply as a means to earning his approval. The alternative seems to make everything about us, which is at odds with his exhortation to put others before ourselves. So then, can we reconcile the desire for our own approval before Christ with the other-centeredness such approval requires? We can, by using a distinction we’ve mentioned before between first-order and higher-order desires. First-order desires are the everyday desires we have that by themselves don’t involve self-reflection, like our desire to help others out of love for them. Higher-order desires are self-reflective desires we have about the kind of person we want to be and the kinds of desires we want to have. Even though higher-order desires are always about ourselves — since they are self-reflective — they can nevertheless reinforce selfless first-order desires and behaviors, and in this way show us how to reconcile the two ideas above. For example, we might have the (higher-order) desire to be the kind of person who always has the (first-order) desire for the well-being of their friends, in which case we have a desire about ourselves that contributes to the formation of other-centered habits. More generally, the higher-order desire to be someone pleasing to Christ involves the many other-centered first-order desires that he finds pleasing.

A specifically Christian objection is that all this talk about seeking Christ’s approval seems to ignore the importance of grace and the need for the redemption from sin. But really this is a misunderstanding — just as it would be a misunderstanding to say that the desire for obedience undermines the importance of grace. Our glory is marred by our sin, and we would therefore have no hope of being pleasing to Christ were it not for his purifying us from sin by grace. We do not work to earn the status as Christ’s treasured possession, for this would be impossible. Rather, we acquire this status by grace. And knowing what this means for our future, we work to make every moment until then worthy of his approval, instead of wasting them on worthless acts that will be overlooked.

Just like the first link, living in this way will correspond to the complete ethical life, because we aim to live a life worthy of our creator’s pleasure in us as the kinds of creatures we were made to be. But in order for our future reality to properly motivate our present actions we must rid ourselves of faulty thinking that gets in the way. The three objections we’ve considered are representative examples of what to avoid: we must not fall into the opposite extremes of conceitedness or self-deprecation, vanity or disregard for action; we must not treat others as a means to our approval; and we must not forget that all of this is made possible by grace.

Whereas the first two links arise from the nature of our future hope — our final judgment and our presentation to Christ — the third link arises from the recognition of our present weakness as we make our way to that hope. Accordingly, it is more limited in scope than the first two, and is not able to motivate the complete ethical life.

In our journey together toward our future hope we will face trials and difficulties, and it is our susceptibility to such things that we call weakness. Of course, this is very general and we can expect it to take many forms. The point is that since we are in this journey together, it is incumbent upon each of us to look out for one another, so that we might all make it to the end. We see this sort of reasoning in the Romans 15 passage listed above:

We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. For Christ did not please himself, but as it is written, “The reproaches of those who reproached you fell on me.” For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope. (Rom 15:1–4)

In this passage we see past-, present-, and future-orientated thinking all working together: by following the past example of Christ and listening to the past instructions of Scripture we are to bear with one another in our present weakness so that together we might be able to endure to the end and thereby have hope that we will get to our future hope.

The easiest forms of weakness to bear are the ones that we share in equally with each other, since such equality fosters solidarity. The passage above, however, discusses a form that leads some of us to bear the consequences of the weakness of others. This is much harder, since by its very nature it divides us from one another — those whose weakness must be borne and those who must bear it. In these cases we must hold on to the deeper solidarity we have with one another, based on the fact that we are all on the same journey to the same future hope. In fact, this deeper solidarity is implicit in the first two links we discussed. We all have the same King who deserves our obedience, and in this way we are fellow citizens within his kingdom (cf. Eph 2:19, Phil 3:20). And it is not each of us individually that is presented to Christ, but all of us as one people that are his treasured possession (Tit 2:14, cf. Eph 5:27). Thus, it makes all the sense in the world that he can sometimes talk of the final day in terms of us boasting in one another (2 Cor 1:14).

Weakness is the key thing that gets in the way of us holding on to our future hope, and making it to the end. It is in light of our weakness in general that we are called to be steadfast, to endure, to not grow weary, and to rejoice in hope. And it is in light of specific weaknesses that we are called to be patient with one another (which I’ve discussed in more detail elsewhere), to be gentle, to bear with one another, and to forgive.

Conclusion

There is much more that could be said on this topic. We could discuss how Paul sometimes speaks of our future hope using present-tense language. We could further unpack how the links we outlined here interrelate with one another. We could explain how particular behaviors (the virtues, or the fruit of the Spirit) follow from our future-orientated motivations. We could see how eschatological ethics works in other authors of the New Testament. And so on.

This notwithstanding, what we’ve managed to say is a good start. We have called attention to an important feature of Paul’s thought, given it a name, shown its ubiquity and variety, and provided the beginnings of a framework for thinking about it.

If like me you’ve been missing Paul’s eschatological ethics, hopefully this post will help you to start recognizing and reflecting on this important idea in the New Testament.


  1. Or, if you prefer Piper’s model (described in the linked post), then you would instead characterize this third way as that of a faith that produces an obedience acceptable to God.
  2. CS Lewis, The Weight of Glory. For a very good explanation of “glory” in the biblical sense, though not directly connecting it to our present discussion, I highly recommend this talk by Tim Mackie.

The role of works in salvation

An important piece of Protestant theology is the doctrine of justification by faith alone. In my experience, this doctrine is often taken to imply that works play no role in salvation, which is not what scripture actually teaches. Part of the problem is that we blur the lines between justification and salvation, to the point that the claim that “justification is by faith alone” seems to contradict the claim that “salvation is by works as well.” Another part of the problem is that we conflate the question of rewards after salvation with the question of salvation itself, which leads to us passing over passages talking about the latter as if they were talking about the former.

All of this prevents us from fully appreciating the way scripture talks justification and salvation, as well as the interconnected roles played by faith and works. In this post I hope to briefly address these issues, by considering how justification by faith alone can be squared with works playing an important role in salvation. Before we get there, however, we need to take a few steps back to define our terms and summarize some relevant scriptural data on this question.

Defining justification, salvation, and works

While it will be subject to more nuance later, throughout this discussion justification is the forensic and external declaration of right-standing before God within the community of his people. Justification, therefore, reconciles us to God and his people. In keeping with Protestant tradition, I agree that this is the primary sense of the idea in Paul’s theology.

These days, we tend to speak of salvation primarily as a past (“I was saved”) or present (“I am saved”) reality, in which case it is scarcely distinguishable from justification. However, in the New Testament salvation is often spoken of as a future reality, referring to the outcome of the judgement of God’s people on the day of the Lord. On this day, Christ will judge all people for what they’ve done and will find God’s people to be innocent and obedient, resulting in their being saved from the wrath that is due to those who are guilty and disobedient. In this post we will speak of salvation in exclusively this future sense. Some Christians think that there is no future judgement for God’s people in this sense, but as we will see shortly it is something clearly taught in scripture.

In Romans, Paul connects these two ideas when he explains that our present justification is the basis of our confidence in our future salvation from wrath:

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person — though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die — but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. (Rom 5:6–10)

We should also clarify what we mean by works, since this can mean different things. We do not mean the restricted sense of “works of the law,” which refers to the specific ceremonial actions unique to the Levitical system, such as sacrifices, cleansing processes, and dedications. Rather, we mean the more general sense of “good works,” which refers good and virtuous actions that constitute our flourishing as the kind of creatures God made us to be. We hasten to add, though, that we are using the idea of works as a proxy for what we’re actually interested in, namely a heart obedient to our Lord. Since our Lord is also our creator this obedience will result in the good works we just mentioned, but since someone might have works without an obedient heart we must clarify that we are interested in works insofar as they are the fruit and evidence of obedience.

The practice of talking about an inward reality in terms of its outward expression (“fruit”) can be seen in John the Baptist’s criticism of the Pharisees and Sadducees:

But when [John] saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to his baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father,’ for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham. Even now the axe is laid to the root of the trees. Every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. (Matt 3:7–10)

Though at the end he talks about the fruit, his earlier statement makes clear that his focus is really on the repentance that produces the fruit.

This raises a final point we must make before moving on, namely that obedience does not always go by the same name. Sometimes an obedient heart is referred to as a repentant heart. And Paul is fond of speaking about love, since this is the fulfillment of God’s law (Gal 5:14, cf. Mark 12:28–34) and is the virtue that binds all others together in perfect harmony (Col 3:14).

Passages on the importance of works

Because there is a tendency to drive a wedge between the role of works in the Old and New Testaments, we will restrict ourselves to the teaching of the latter. Now, the importance of works is repeatedly and various affirmed in the New Testament. Sometimes it comes in an explicit statement that God’s people will also be judged on the basis of our works in the course of determining whether we will get to be with him or have to face his wrath. Other times it comes in the form of a statement to the effect that eternal life (or the benefits leading to salvation) are the result of works.

Matthew 6:14–15

For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.

This statement comes as an explanation of the final line of the Lord’s prayer, and draws a connection between our being forgiven and our action of forgiving others.

Matthew 7:21–23

Not everyone who says to me, “Lord, Lord,” will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, “Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?” And then will I declare to them, “I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.”

Here we have people who declare Jesus as Lord and even work in his name, but who are rejected from the kingdom of heaven on account of the fact that they did not do the will of God.

Matthew 16:27

For the Son of Man is going to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay each person according to what he has done.

Here Jesus does not make a distinction, but says that everyone will be repaid by their actions.

Matthew 25:31–46

When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left.

Then the King will say to those on his right, “Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.” Then the righteous will answer him, saying, “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?” And the King will answer them, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.”

Then he will say to those on his left, “Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.” Then they also will answer, saying, “Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?” Then he will answer them, saying, “Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.” And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.

Both groups of people refer to Jesus as Lord, and in both cases the basis of their acceptance or rejection is there actions.

John 5:27–29

And [the Father] has given [the Son] authority to execute judgement, because he is the Son of Man. Do not marvel at this, for an hour is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice and come out, those who have done good to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil to the resurrection of judgement.

There is symmetry here between whether your resurrection is to life (salvation) or to judgment (wrath) in that both are on the basis of what you have done in your life.

2 Corinthians 5:9–10

So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. For we must all appear before the judgement seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil.

The future judgment is a motivation for Paul’s aiming to please Christ. In the context of 5:1–7:1, as well as the fact that evil is included in the above quote, it is clear that Paul is not talking about judgement for rewards, but judgment for whether we will enter eternal life or not. This is meant to be a motivator to the Corinthian church to get their act together.

2 Corinthians 7:1

Since we have these promises, beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit, bringing holiness to completion in the fear of God.

The promises he is referring were just stated in the preceding context (2 Cor 6:16–18), and refer to God’s promise that he will welcome his people if they separate themselves from uncleanness. From this it is clear that complete (or perfect) holiness refers to being with God most fully, which is the result salvation on the day of the Lord. In this case, then, it is noteworthy that this is brought about — at least in part — by our cleansing ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit. See studies 2 and 3 of my Leviticus notes for a detailed discussion on the interplay between holiness and uncleanness that underlies this line of reasoning from Paul.

Galatians 6:7–9

Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life. And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.

At first we might try to interpret “sowing to the Spirit” as something else, but together with the following sentence it is clear that it involves doing good and that what it reaps is eternal life.

Philippians 2:12–13

Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.

We must not let the fact that God works in us to distract us from the fact that we are to understand salvation as something we can work out.

Hebrews 12:12–15

Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed. Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God.

Here seeing the Lord is a result, at least in part, of our straightening the paths of our feet, an action which involves works. Thus, he can happily speak of obtaining the grace of God.

1 John 2:1–6

My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world. And by this we know that we have come to know him, if we keep his commandments. Whoever says “I know him” but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him, but whoever keeps his word, in him truly the love of God is perfected. By this we may know that we are in him: whoever says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked.

John here seems to be echoing the teaching of Jesus we saw before, that not everyone who calls him Lord will be saved, but only those who do the will of the Father, which John summarizes here as love.

1 John 3:14

We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brothers. Whoever does not love abides in death.

Revelation 20:12–15

And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Then another book was opened, which is the book of life. And the dead were judged by what was written in the books, according to what they had done. And the sea gave up the dead who were in it, Death and Hades gave up the dead who were in them, and they were judged, each one of them, according to what they had done. Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire. And if anyone’s name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire.

Both those in the book of life and those in Death and Hades are judged on the basis of what they had done. Again, we see an explicit statement of symmetry.

Revelation 22:10–13

And he said to me, “Do not seal up the words of the prophecy of this book, for the time is near. Let the evildoer still do evil, and the filthy still be filthy, and the righteous still do right, and the holy still be holy. Behold, I am coming soon, bringing my recompense with me, to repay everyone for what he has done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.”

Given the the prior sentence spoke of both the evil and the righteous, the statement that he will repay each for what he has done clearly refers to both groups.

We could add to this list other related New Testament passages (eg. Rom 2:6–11, 13:11, 1 Cor 9:24–27, 13:1–3, Phil 1:8–11, 2 Tim 2:1–7), examples from the Old Testament (eg. Gen 26:4–5), and parallels drawn between the two in the New Testament (eg. Heb 10:26–31), but the above is sufficient for our purposes.

How (not) to harmonize the scriptural data

Now, when faced with texts that are in tension with something we believe, we have two options: either we double-down on what we believe and do our best to reinterpret those texts in light of it, or we seek a broader theory that incorporates what we believe together with these texts. I have no doubt that if we were to engage in “interpretative gymnastics” for long enough we could come up with interpretations of each of these texts that would allow us to hold on to the belief that works play no role in salvation. But, besides a collection of contrived or otherwise unmotivated interpretations, what would we gain by this? It would certainly not be a better understanding of the framework underlying the biblical authors’ statements that allows them to talk so easily about works playing a role in salvation.

Someone might try to defend such gymnastics by reminding us that a good interpretative practice is to interpret obscure texts in light of clearer ones. But this response is flawed for at least two reasons. First, the texts we cited above are not obscure. They very clearly state that works play a role in salvation, and do so in various ways from the mouths of various people. Second, the problem isn’t that these texts are in tension with other texts that teach justification by faith alone, but that they are in tension with conclusions we prematurely draw from those texts. We must recognize the possibility that the tension lies not between the texts, but between some texts and our systemization of other texts. It is a recipe for disaster to start with texts on “justification by faith alone” only to later consider texts on “salvation by works as well.” Such an approach will only obscure the theological framework of scripture which enables its authors to speak so comfortably about both.

Instead of the favoring some teachings of scripture to the exclusion of others, we should seek a harmonization that allows us to affirm “justification by faith alone” together with “salvation by works as well.”

Three models of harmonization

Before we get there, however, we must note that the importance of works is something the Reformed tradition has emphasized since its beginning. As Richard Gaffin notes, Calvin himself cautioned that faith justifies alone only if “alone” is understood adverbially, and is not the case if it is understood adjectivally. That is, faith alone justifies, but faith does not justify when alone. Faith is the thing that justifies, but it only does so when works is beside it “holding its hand,” so that if works were not around then faith would be powerless to do anything. Mark Jones makes a similar point when he notes a distinction arising from Reformed theologians between the right to salvation — which is attained by faith alone — and the possession of salvation — which is attained through works as well. And John Piper cautions that “we should not speak of getting to heaven by faith alone in the same way we are justified by faith alone.”

All of this amounts to the necessary realization that there is an important role for works, but it doesn’t yet tell us why this is the case. Why does faith not justify when alone? Why are works needed to take possession of salvation? We will consider three models that attempt to gives answers to such questions.

Model 1: Works as the fruit of justifying faith

This first model comes from Piper in the article just mentioned. On this model, the faith that justifies you is a living faith that of its very nature produces works as its fruit. At the last judgment, then, you are judged on your works as proof of your justifying faith. If you do not bear the fruit, then you do not have justifying faith, but something else. This is very similar to what we were saying earlier about how works are the fruit of an inner reality, and on this model that inner reality is justifying faith. As Piper explains the view elsewhere as follows:

…works play no role whatsoever in justification, but are the necessary fruit of justifying faith, which confirm our faith and our union with Christ at the last judgment. God can make a public pronouncement with a view to these works confirming the faith, which alone unites us to Christ, who is alone the foundation of our acceptance as perfect in God’s sight.

Model 2: Justification as the removal of sin

The second model is inconsistent with certain claims of Reformed theology, but is consistent with broader Protestant theology. At its heart is the commitment that justification consists solely in the removal of sin, which is at odds with the Reformed position that says it also includes the transmission of a foreign righteousness from Christ (or God) to the believer. With the former, righteousness is still something imputed in the sense of being counted to us, and is still something foreign in the sense of not arising from ourselves; but this imputation of foreign righteousness just is the gratuitous removal of sin by God through Christ, without the need of a further transmission of foreign righteousness.

Now, at the last judgement, only those who have lived perfectly obedient lives will be saved from God’s wrath. However, because everyone sins, we can at best live an imperfectly obedient life. Even though we desire God and seek him with an obedient heart, we cannot escape punishment ourselves because we cannot undo our previous failures. This is akin to a murderer who has since repented of his crimes, but still awaits punishment: it doesn’t matter how many people he saves, he is still guilty of murder and deserving of punishment.

Combining these two ideas together, we see that justification can turn an imperfectly obedient life into a perfectly obedient one, since it can remove the sinful aspects of that life which make it imperfect. But if justification is simply the removal of sin, it cannot turn a disobedient life into an obedient one, since after the removal of sin there will still only be a disobedient heart left to find underneath it all. In the end, everyone will be judged on their obedience, but some of those who would otherwise have had merely imperfect obedience will instead have perfect obedience on account of the removal of their sin through justification by faith.

Model 3: Obedience as a precondition for faith

If we shuffle things around slightly in model 2, then we can produce a third model that differs from the first two, and which still allows for the Reformed account of justification. Where model 1 made obedience the fruit of faith and model 2 made the two stand side-by-side, this third model makes obedience prior to faith in some sense.

The idea is as follows. Like the murderer we discussed in model 2, a sinner might come to see that life with God is something good and worthy of pursuit, but realize that their sin has alienated them from him with no hope of reconciliation. This person might seek to live with God with all their might — which is obedience — but never close the relational chasm that exists between them and God because of their sin. It is in this situation that faith and justification come in. God’s gracious offer of reconciliation is that if you seek him out and have faith in the King that he has sent, then the chasm between you and him will be closed by means of justification.

But notice that if this is how faith and justification are supposed to work, then their application presupposes an obedient heart, without which you would not be seeking God out in the first place. On this model, what enables faith to justify is that it is the faith of a seeker. It therefore presupposes a heart from which good works would already naturally flow, to which the faith brings the justification that closes the relational chasm between the seeker and God. If someone had the same faith but without the obedient heart, then that faith would be meaningless. They would be like someone who acknowledges the existence and power of a king without the desire to live under him. Such a person cannot expect the favor of that king.

Notice that we have said nothing about the nature of justification, but only its role in the broader series. This allows us to say that when faith justifies, it does so both by the removal of sin and transmission of righteousness. Thus, unlike model 2, this model is consistent with the Reformed account of justification.

Evaluating the models

Each of these models gives a coherent account of the importance of works to salvation without sacrificing the doctrine of justification by faith alone. To that extent, I’m happy for people to believe any of them. Nevertheless, my own preference is for model 2, and in what follows I’d like to briefly explain why. The long and short of it is that I think models 2 and 3 make more sense of how scripture speaks about faith, works, and judgement, and I think the primary reason for preferring model 3 over the simpler model 2 is unmotivated.

Evaluating model 1

When evaluating model 1, we must recognize that there are different ways of thinking about justifying vs non-justifying faith. On models 2 and 3, the same faith could at some time be justifying and at another time be non-justifying. The difference here would not be in the kind of faith held or the object of the faith, but in the presence of absence of an obedient heart. By contrast, on model 1 we need to accept that there are different kinds of faith, one of which is justifying and the others not. Now, of course we can have different kinds of faith in the sense that we can have faith in different things, but in this case the different kinds of faith are all in Jesus, for otherwise there would be little reason for the authors of scripture to compare them like they do. Model 1 therefore requires that there be different kinds of faith in King Jesus without this difference being found in the presence of absence of an obedient heart, since this heart is meant to be the fruit of the right kind of faith. Someone might point us to James 2:14–26 as an example of different kinds of faith, but even this passage doesn’t require that the difference between saving and non-saving faith be found in the kind of faith so understood. It could easily be found in whether works are there alongside the faith. Indeed, it is noteworthy that he explains the effectiveness of Abraham’s faith by saying that, “faith was active along with his works, and faith was completed by his works” (v22).

There are other cases in the New Testament when the faith in view seems to be the right kind of faith, but is still called worthless in the absence of obedience. In 1 Corinthians 13, for instance, Paul speaks of a faith that can remove mountains — an idiom used for proper faith — but says that it is still nothing without love (v2). That true faith is in view here is confirmed by the fact that he concludes the discussion by noting that for now faith, hope, and love remain (v13), which is clearly referring to Christian faith, hope, and love. In addition to this it is noteworthy that, in Matthew 7:21–23 and 25:31–46 quoted in our list above, people call Jesus Lord — and even do things in his name — and he responds not by questioning whether they really think of him as Lord, but whether they did the will of the Father.

It also seems possible that you can have an obedient heart without the necessary faith that reconciles you to God. One of the clearest examples of this comes in Romans 9:30–10:4, where Paul recognizes that his fellow Israelites have a zeal for God, but notes that they are lacking the key element of faith, thinking instead that they can close the chasm between them and God through the works of the law. This situation is at least in tension with (if not contradictory to) model 1, which would require faith before obedience (or zeal) could follow, but it fits easily with models 2 and 3 since it is analogous to the murderer scenario we used as a motivating example for both of those.

In addition to this, model 1 doesn’t do as much justice to the symmetry that is sometimes emphasized for the basis of judgement of those saved and those punished (Matt 16:27, 25:31–46, 2 Cor 5:9–10, Gal 6:7–9, Rev 20:12–15, 22:10–13). After all, on model 1 works are a proxy for faith, which is the basis for salvation, but for those punished the basis for this is not their lack of faith but their disobedience. The Galatians 6 passage is particularly instructive here, since Paul explicitly states that the same principle applies to both, but on model 1 the application of this principle is somewhat strained by the fact that sowing to the Spirit would have to be indicative of faith (rather than perfected obedience) while sowing to the flesh is surely indicative of active disobedience (rather than lack of faith).

Evaluating model 3

So much for model 1. Comparing models 2 and 3 is a little more tricky, since we used the same motivating example to get to them, and in many ways model 3 is just a generalization of model 2. The main thing that model 3 has in its favor is that it enables us to affirm a doctrine of justification in terms of the transmission of righteousness from God (or Christ) to us, and its in terms of this reason for preferring it that we will evaluate it.

For one thing, the emphasis of symmetry in judgement that we raised against model 1 can also be raised against model 3. It’s difficult to see why, if we were ultimately judged based on the works of God or Christ (since it is their righteousness that is transferred to us), the authors of scripture would emphasize the symmetry of everyone being judged on the basis of their own works. And it is noteworthy that when we are given examples of the basis for judgment (eg. Matt 6:14–15, 25:31–46, and 1 John 2:1–6) it is the actions of the people themselves that is in focus, not the actions of God or Christ.

Of course, people don’t typically believe in justification in terms of transmission of righteousness because they’re trying to make sense of these passages, but because they think it is explicitly taught in scripture. For instance, in Romans, Paul says that in the gospel “the righteousness of God is revealed from faith for faith” (1:17), that through Jesus the righteousness of God has been manifested for all who believe (3:21–22), and that his fellow Israelites who did not believe sought to establish a righteousness of their own rather than submit to the righteousness of God (10:3). In Philippians he speaks of a righteousness from God (3:9). And in 2 Corinthians he says that we have become the righteousness of God (2 Cor 5:21).

Reading these passages in terms of transmission, however, amounts to something of a category error, resulting from a failure to appreciate the two important senses God’s righteousness takes on in the Old Testament, namely in terms of covenantal faithfulness and just judgment.1 Once we appreciate these two senses, we can see that God showing his righteousness is not about giving it to us, but about revealing his solution to a problem through us.

On the first sense, God’s righteousness is connected with his faithfulness to promises, most notably his covenant promises to Abraham and Israel. We see this way of thinking expressed, for example, in Nehemiah’s prayer to him:

You are the Lord, the God who chose Abram and brought him out of Ur of the Chaldeans and gave him the name Abraham. You found his heart faithful before you, and made with him the covenant to give to his offspring the land of the Canaanite, the Hittite, the Amorite, the Perizzite, the Jebusite, and the Girgashite. And you have kept your promise, for you are righteous. (Neh 9:7–8)

We can also express our righteousness through faithfulness (eg. 1 Sam 26:23), but it doesn’t make sense for God to transmit his righteousness in this sense to us.

On the second sense, God’s righteousness is the righteousness of the judge of the world, which is expressed in his judging perfectly and impartially (cf. Rom 2:5–11). For example, this understanding forms the basis of Abraham’s plea for those in Sodom:

Far be it from you to do such a thing, to put the righteous to death with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just? (Gen 18:25)

Now, whereas God’s righteousness is that of a judge, our righteousness is that of a defendant, and is expressed in our being declared innocent by the perfect judge (eg. Ps 7:8, 35:24). Notice that these are not interchangeable things. It makes little sense to speak of God acquitting us by giving us his righteousness, since his righteousness is about right judgment and not about making the guilty innocent.

In the New Testament — and particularly the early Romans passages mentioned above — these two ways of thinking about God’s righteousness become wound together, forming a problem to be solved: if God is to be faithful to his promises to Abraham (righteousness in the first sense) he will need to overlook the sin of his people, but how could he do this without failing to be the perfect and impartial judge of the world (righteousness in the second sense)? One way or another, God’s righteousness can’t stand.

This is the tension that Paul is dealing with in Romans 3:21–26, where he explains that God has revealed his solution to this problem through his King, Jesus, by justifying his people by Jesus’ blood. The result is that we can now see how God could overlook the sins of his people in the past without giving up his title as the righteous judge of the world (3:25).2 As Paul concludes, “It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.” (3:26) That is, God’s showing his righteousness is not about him transmitting it us, but about him showing how he can be a just (righteous) judge while still being true to his covenant promises. Furthermore, we now stand as living proof of this righteousness, which is what Paul means in 2 Corinthians when he says that we have “become God’s righteousness” — not that we have somehow had it transmitted to us. And his claim that we have a righteousness from God (Rom 10:3, Phil 3:9) is true but is just meant to emphasize that our status is a result of God’s work and not ours — not that it is somehow the result of him transmitting his righteousness to us.

Not only is there little reason for thinking about justification in terms of transmission, but there is positive reason for thinking about it just in terms the removal of sin. Consider what Paul’s usage of Psalm 32 in the following passage:

David also speaks of the blessing of the one to whom God counts righteousness apart from works: “Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven, and whose sins are covered; blessed is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin.” (Rom 4:6–8)

This is as close as we come to Paul giving an explicit definition of justification. He tells us that he’s about to quote David talking about justification, and then he quotes David talking only about the removal of sins. Another passage from 2 Corinthians suggests the same thing. Given that justification is the means by which God reconciles us to himself (cf. Rom 5:1–11), Paul tells us how God achieves this:

All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. (2 Cor 5:18–19)

Once we recognize that scripture does not commit us to the understanding of justification as transmission, we are then free to take these statements from Paul as the explanations they were intended to be.

The superiority of model 2

None of my complaints against model 1 were meant as decisive, and many intelligent people disagree with the points I made in my evaluation of model 3. As I’ve already said, I’m happy for people to go with any of the models, or indeed any other model that highlights the importance of works for salvation without sacrificing the doctrine of justification by faith alone. However, my comments above incline me to prefer model 2, and that’s the one I recommend. It is simple and, in the course of discussing each of the views, we have seen that it has sufficient explanatory power.

Questions

When discussing the role of works in salvation with others, I have noticed that once people get over the initial (and understandable) shock, they will almost without fail ask the same questions. These questions are important and the result of carefully grappling with the relevant issues. Not only this, but in answering them I find that we come to a deeper understanding of what is and isn’t being claimed. Thus, to such questions we now turn.

Does this make doing good works a mercenary affair?

If part of the reason we do good works is for our salvation (cf. 2 Cor 5:9–10), then does this mean that they are done out of selfish motives, where we treat salvation as if it were a cold transaction between us and God? Or, as CS Lewis phrases it, does it turn doing good works into a mercenary affair? In answering the question CS Lewis draws an important distinction that will serve our own answer:

We must not be troubled by unbelievers when they say that this promise of reward makes the Christian life a mercenary affair. There are different kinds of reward. There is the reward which has no natural connexion with the things you do to earn it, and is quite foreign to the desires that ought to accompany those things. Money is not the natural reward of love; that is why we call a man mercenary if he marries a woman for the sake of her money. But marriage is the proper reward for a real lover, and he is not mercenary for desiring it. A general who fights well in order to get a peerage is mercenary; a general who fights for victory is not, victory being the proper reward of battle as marriage is the proper reward of love. The proper rewards are not simply tacked on to the activity for which they are given, but are the activity itself in consummation. (CS Lewis, The Weight of Glory)

He goes on to note that the picture is in reality slightly more complicated, but this initially distinction is sufficient for our purposes.3

The point is this: we were created for life with God in obedience to him, since he is our Lord and our creator and this corresponds with our flourishing as his creatures. Our sin has corrupted this relationship, but God has established a way for imperfect obedience to be sufficient for us to be with him like this. When working imperfectly toward our salvation, alongside faith, we are not looking forward to it in a self-serving way. Rather, we are doing our best to be obedient amidst our imperfections, so that we will be able to take hold of obedience cleansed from these imperfections, so as to live with our Lord and creator without any hindrance. We love God now as best we can, looking forward to the day when we will be able to love him even better.

What if every act is mixed with sin?

This is a question specifically aimed at model 2, since we’ve said that justification is the removal of sin. If you’re sufficiently reflective on your actions, you’ll realize that often (if not always) even if you have good motives they are mixed with sinful motives. But if justification will remove the sins in my life, and if all actions are mixed with sin, then will this not mean that no good works will be counted to me?

A more helpful way to think of justification is that it removes the sinful aspects of every act, rather than removing every act that has sinful aspects. It’s tricky to find passages that say this explicitly, since the biblical authors typically focus on the outward actions rather than the motivations that are mixed up within them. But we’ve already said that the actions are used as proxies to the obedience of which they are the fruit, and so it seems right to say that an action is good to the extent it flows from obedience, and whatever else is mixed up with that will be cleansed by justification leaving only the good behind. This is presumably why the authors do sometimes talk about the source of the works (obedience or love) rather than its effects.

Though uncommon, an example of disentangling the aspects mixed together in particular actions might be seen in Paul’s discussion of Abraham in Romans. His aim is to emphasize the importance of Abraham’s faith as the basis of his righteousness, and in the course of this he says the following:

In hope [Abraham] believed against hope, that he should become the father of many nations, as he had been told, “So shall your offspring be.” He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was as good as dead (since he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah’s womb. No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised. That is why his faith was “counted to him as righteousness”. (Rom 4:18–22)

What’s interesting about this line of reasoning is that two chapters after Abraham’s faith is counted to him as righteousness (Gen 15:6) he laughs at the prospect of Sarah bearing him a child at their age (17:17). Nevertheless, he is fully convinced that God will follow through on his plan, which is why he proposes that God does so through Ishmael (17:18), to which God responds with a resounding no and reiterates his plan to give Abraham and Sarah their own child (17:19–21). With Abraham, then, we have actions that are a mixture of good and bad, but Paul is happy to focus on just the good aspects when making his point, since it is the presence of these good aspects that is relevant.

What about the person who dies moments after being justified?

I think this is an important question because of the implied question behind it: how many good works are necessary for salvation, and what if someone hasn’t done that many? Now, we must emphatically and without qualification say that this is not how works contribute to salvation. As we were at pains to explain right at the beginning, works are not there to be tallied up until you’re above some threshold, but are the fruit and evidence (proxies) of an obedient heart. It is ultimately the presence of this obedient heart — together with justification through faith — that is the basis for your salvation. The biblical authors tend to speak in terms of the “typical” case, which involves someone continuing to live a while after their conversion. But the fate of the thief on the cross (Lk 29:39–43) makes it clear that an obedient heart is sufficient, even if it hasn’t been given the opportunity to express itself in good works due to time constraints.

Indeed, there may even be constraints other than time, such as an incomplete knowledge of what God desires, or an inability to understand what he requires. The former is discussed by Paul in Romans 1:18–32, and it is noteworthy that nowhere does he hold the non-Israelite up to the standard of the law given to Israel. And a bit later he will say the following:

For when Gentiles, who do not have the law [given to Israel], 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, according to my gospel, God judges the secrets of men by Christ Jesus. (Rom 2:14–16)

When we speak of the role of works in salvation, then, we must recognize that we are following the language of the New Testament authors and speaking primarily in terms of the “typical” case. Accordingly, we must be cognizant of the additional nuance needed to speak correctly to edge cases.

Will someone be saved if they live a mostly obedient life?

Since we’ve concluded that works have an important role in salvation, a natural question someone may ask is whether this makes salvation some sort of a balancing game, where good works could outweigh sinful works. Our discussion thus far should make clear that this is not the right way to think about salvation. What you need is perfect obedience, and if you’ve sinned once you are in the same situation as the murderer who has repented but not yet been sentenced. “Mostly obedient” just won’t cut it. God offers the only way through justification by faith alone.

Why does faith produce good works?

In a number of places in the New Testament, faith is said to produce or work through love or obedience (Gal 5:6, Jas 2:18), or be a precondition to it (1 Cor 15:17–19, 32, 58). Paul also speaks of “the obedience of faith” (Rom 1:5, 16:26). For model 1 this language is easily explained by the fact that works are the fruit of faith. For models 2 and 3 the question is how we account for such language.

We must realize that good works can be the effect of faith without being the fruit of faith, since the source-fruit relation is a special case of the more general cause-effect relation. The person who wishes to be with God, but is cognizant of the relational chasm their sin has caused, might despair of any hope of being with him, and therefore give up on trying to be obedient to him. Without the hope of reconciliation there is no reason to continue trying to be obedient, especially when doing so can be difficult. This is effectively Paul’s reasoning in 1 Corinthians 15, and explains why when the possibility of reconciliation through faith is introduced, it would produce in us the desire to seek God in obedience once again. Thus, Paul urges the Corinthians to “be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labour is not in vain.” (1 Cor 15:58)

Paul uses similar reasoning towards the end of the letter to the Romans, when he urges them to live obedient lives because “salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed.” (Rom 13:11b) The connection here is obvious: keep up your obedience until the end in order take hold of the salvation on offer. And again, this kind of reasoning comes up in the 2 Corinthians 7:1 quote from our earlier list: after reiterating the promises that God would live with his people so long as they cleansed themselves from uncleanness, Paul urges them to continue to do so in order to bring holiness (God’s presence) to completion.

Regarding “the obedience of faith,” it might just be another way of talking about this causal relation between faith and obedience. However, on models 2 and 3 it could also be a way of speaking of an obedience made perfect through faith. Either way, we have a ready explanation for it.

How does this affect doctrines of perseverance?

If someone holds to the doctrine of perseverance of the saints, or some other doctrine similar to this, does the role works plays in salvation affect this in any way? I see no reason why it should, since such doctrines are usually more focused on you making it to the end, rather than on what “making it” consists in. God, in his sovereignty, will ensure that you persevere in an obedient heart perfected by justification through faith.

Is this not a dangerous teaching?

Some might wonder if the claim that works play a part in salvation could lead to forms of legalism or some other related false teaching. Should we therefore silently acknowledge it and never speak of it in polite company? Is it less dangerous just to ignore it and focus on justification by faith alone?

No. What is dangerous is treating a part of the picture as if it were the whole of the picture. We must do our best to uphold all of the teaching of scripture without unnecessarily sacrificing parts of it because they make us uncomfortable, lest we fall subject to the same kind of criticism lodged by God against his people through Isaiah: they had presumed upon their security because they had the God-given Levitical system, but God explained that their offerings and ceremonies were worthless if they ignored injustice and oppression (Is 1:11–20). So too we, if we ignore the importance of obedience, will be tempted to presume upon our faith and forget the poor and the oppressed. This is precisely the kind of thinking that James was trying to correct in his epistle.

So what should we do? If a passage teaches justification by faith alone, then preach that. If it teaches the importance of work to salvation, then preach that. If someone is so conscious of their sin that they despair the hope of salvation, then remind them that God reconciled himself to sinners. If they are confident in their salvation simply because they have faith, then remind them that they will be judged on their works. When people ask how both are possible, explain it to them. Ultimately, we should be no less comfortable talking about these things than the biblical authors were. And to the extent that our thinking makes us less comfortable, our thinking needs to change.

Conclusion

These days many people find it controversial or uncomfortable to talk about works playing a role in salvation. But neither scripture nor the earliest reformers has any problem with doing so, which suggests we need to make space in the way we think about salvation. In the course of this post we have summarized some relevant biblical data, proposed three models for how “justification by faith alone” can co-exist with “salvation by works as well,” evaluated them, and addressed common questions. In the end, a proper appreciation of this teaching will motivate us to live godly lives while we walk to the salvation God has made possible through justification by faith in his King.


  1. For a nice discussion of this, see NT Wright, What Saint Paul Really Said (ch 6)
  2. It’s important for us to remember that the Levitical system did not actually deal with sin. The sacrifices worked at a symbolic level, not a real one (cf. Heb 10:4). See chapter 4 of my study in Leviticus for an more detailed discussion.
  3. He outlines a third case in which we transition from motivations of the first kind to those of the second kind, which more accurately describes the growth of Christian motivations as they learn to desire God more fully for who he is. We are talking, however, about the ideal case, and so do not need the descriptive nuance that this third case provides. Nevertheless, I highly recommend that every Christian read this essay once a year, for there are just so many nuggets of wisdom in it to be fully internalized in one reading.

Fear of the Lord

Throughout Scripture — both Old and New testaments — God’s people are told to fear him, which at first glance seems to be an odd response to a God full of grace and love. Perhaps the most puzzling statement comes when the people of Israel first meet God at the mountain in Exodus 20. Notice what Moses says to the people in response to their fear:

Now when all the people saw the thunder and the flashes of lightning and the sound of the trumpet and the mountain smoking, the people were afraid and trembled, and they stood far off and said to Moses, “You speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, lest we die.” Moses said to the people, “Do not fear, for God has come to test you, that the fear of him may be before you, that you may not sin.” (Exodus 20:18-20)

On the face of it, Moses’ words seem so strange as to verge on contradiction. What could the fear of the Lord possibly be, that he can speak about it like this?

Perhaps the most common way of making sense of the fear of the Lord is to say that it amounts to reverence for the Lord. While I don’t deny that it involves this, I struggle to see how this could be the whole story. After all, often the fear of the Lord is explained in genuinely scary terms, like our destruction or like the thunder and lightning in the quote above. These show us that God’s greatness can be a real danger to his people. It seems to me, then, that we need a more satisfactory account that does justice to this, without collapsing into the opposite error of denying God’s graciousness.

We mentioned fear in an earlier post on faith and hope, where we said that fear is uncertainty with dissent. That is to say, we fear something because we are uncertain as to whether it will be good or bad for us. Naturally, this often results in us wanting to avoid the thing we fear, lest the bad thing happen. We saw an example of this in that earlier post when the disciples are confronted by Jesus’ power in calming the storm:

On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” And leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. And other boats were with him. And a great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion. And they woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (Mark 4:35-41)

The disciples can see that Jesus is powerful, but they are uncertain whether he is good powerful or bad powerful and so they fear him. Note, however, that the fear here is not the right way to respond to Jesus. This is why he asks in exasperation why they are still afraid as opposed to having faith.

Closely related to fear is dread, which is thinking with dissent. When we dread something we are not uncertain about whether it is bad but are convinced to some degree it is. For the sake of illustration, imagine we commit some crime. Initially, we fear being caught, since we’re uncertain about whether it will happen or not. Once we are caught, however, we dread the punishment because we’re pretty confident it will happen.

So we have these two notions, neither of which seem adequate accounts of the fear of the Lord. In both cases, we are repelled from the thing we fear or dread, but the Lord whom we are to fear wants us to draw closer to him. Nevertheless, this sense of fear does seem to be what Moses has in mind when he says, “Do not fear” to the people of Israel. Having been confronted with God in the thunder and lightning, their (quite understandable) response was to stand far off and avoid talking with him. They were repelled from the object of their fear. Moses then urges them not to respond to God in this manner.

As I see it, the fear of the Lord should be understood as follows. God is the source of all goodness, making him unequivocally good for us and something we should be drawn towards. Furthermore, because of his grace, he will accept us and bless us if we come to him. But if we turn away from him — if we turn away from the giver of life — we will die; if we make ourselves his enemies, we will be destroyed. And this would be something very bad for us indeed.

So the fear of the Lord stands somewhere between fear and dread as we’ve outlined them above. There is no uncertainty here, for God has made these terms abundantly clear. And our destruction is only anticipated if we choose to turn away from him. Perhaps we should say, then, that fear of the Lord is conditionality with dissent: the badness of punishment remains an open possibility so long as we are capable of turning away from God, but will not happen so long as we cling to him. We don’t have a word for this — and presumably neither did the authors of Scripture — so we use the word “fear” as the best alternative.

The most significant difference between the fear of the Lord and fear in the typical sense is this: instead of being repelled by him, we are drawn to him and repelled by his absence. We are drawn to live with the giver of life and serve creator of everything, and we are repelled by what will happen if we choose death over life and something created over the creator.

This reading fits well with how the phrase is used throughout Scripture. We see this in Moses’ words above. There he explains that the fear of God must be before them so that they may not sin. And we see something similar in his sermons in Deuteronomy:

Now this is the commandment, the statutes and the rules that the Lord your God commanded me to teach you, that you may do them in the land to which you are going over, to possess it, that you may fear the Lord your God, you and your son and your son’s son, by keeping all his statutes and his commandments, which I command you, all the days of your life, and that your days may be long… It is the Lord your God you shall fear. Him you shall serve and by his name you shall swear. You shall not go after other gods, the gods of the peoples who are around you — for the Lord your God in your midst is a jealous God — lest the anger of the Lord your God be kindled against you, and he destroy you from off the face of the earth… And the Lord commanded us to do all these statutes, to fear the Lord our God, for our good always, that he might preserve us alive, as we are this day. And it will be righteousness for us, if we are careful to do all this commandment before the Lord our God, as he has commanded us. (6:1-2, 13-15, 24-25)

And again we see the same ideas coming up in the Psalms:

Blessed is everyone who fears the Lord, who walks in his ways!… Behold, thus shall the man be blessed who fears the Lord. (Psalm 128:1, 4)

And finally, in the New Testament we see it most clearly in Paul’s words to the Philippians:

Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure. (Phillipians 2:12-13)

The verses that follow make it clear that Paul’s intention here is to urge them to continue living lives pleasing to God while they looked forward to “the day of Christ” (v16). This amounts to the same idea as we saw in Moses and the Psalms, but also taking into account the work of Christ.

Examples can be multiplied, but these passages show that understanding the fear of the Lord as conditionality with dissent does justice to its use in Scripture. Most importantly it explains why such fear is a good thing for the people of God to have, without undermining his greatness or his graciousness.