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On the Unfinished Finished Work of Christ

In light of this being the week of our Lord’s passion, it is interesting to note that one of the last things that he said before he gave up his Spirit on the cross was, “It is finished.” (τετέλεσται, John 19.30). With this powerful word, Jesus declared that his work on the cross in making full atonement for sin was completed, and “bowing his head, he gave up his spirit.” It must have been a powerful scene, and no more pregnant words have perhaps ever been spoken. However, the problem is that even though Christ finished his work, sin still seems to run rampant in this world. If it is finished, why, we might ask, is the world still broken, still full of pain and suffering and sin and death? Because of this, we might be tempted to suggest that his work is unfinished. Many Christians struggle to hold together what has already been accomplished and what still remains. However, what we must realize is that Christ’s work is finished; it is fully accomplished in its foundation, but not yet fully realized in its effects. In this post, I would like to consider this tension by offering just a few thoughts on what Christ accomplished in his first coming and what waits to be realized at his second coming.
In one sense, then, it is completely accurate to say that the work of Christ has been fully accomplished, and there are at least three aspects of his work that are completely finished. First, atonement has been accomplished. When Christ died on the cross, he made the full and final payment for our sin. In systematic theology, this is called penal substitutionary atonement. In other words, this means that Christ paid the penalty (penal) that we deserve (substitutionary) for our sin. (On the fact that this was Christ’s view of his death, see here.) He died the death that we deserve by dying in our place. But he did not stay dead; he rose again on the third day. This is the second aspect of Christ’s finished work, namely that victory over death has been secured. When Jesus walked out of the grave on the third day, he defeated death and disarmed Satan of his power. Death no longer has hold over those who are in Christ. We need not fear, we can have hope, even in the face of death. (On hope in the face of death, see here.) And lastly, by dying on the cross, Christ finished his work of establishing righteousness. In other words, his finished work on the cross is now the ground upon which God grants our justification, when we place our faith in Jesus. He lived a perfect life, he died an innocent death. And his righteousness is imputed to us by faith. We are made right, declared innocent, because of Christ’s finished work. This is the gospel. Nothing needs to be added to what Christ accomplished; his work is complete, sufficient, and final. It is not partial, not provisional. It is finished!
Moreover, his finished work on the cross inaugurated several important realities in which we now live. For one, the Kingdom of God has been inaugurated. Forty days after his resurrection, Jesus ascended into heaven to be seated at the right hand of the Father, and he is now reigning with all authority on earth as it is in heaven. (Matt. 28.18) He is not waiting to become King; he is already reigning as King. And he does this by his Spirit. This is the second reality in which we now live, namely that Christ has sent his Spirit to indwell his people. The Spirit mediates Christ’s real presence in and among his people. He is the down payment, the seal, and the guarantee of our faith. And he is actively working in us to make us more like Jesus. And lastly, but certainly not leastly, new life has begun. When we place our faith in Christ, the Spirit regenerates us. He brings to life what was once spiritually dead, and we are born again. In this way we are new creatures in Christ. The old has passed away, and behold the new has come. (2 Cor. 5.17) New creation realities are already at work in us through the Spirit. In these ways, the future has already broken into the present through the risen Christ, and we live in these future realities even now.
And yet, in spite of all of this, several aspects of Christ’s work remain unfinished. Perhaps most clearly, sin still remains in the world. We have been saved from the penalty of sin, but we have not yet been saved from the presence of sin. Our world is saturated and polluted with sin at every turn. People are burdened down with sin and its consequences. Our relationships suffer, bodies are diseased, conflict and turmoil abound at every level of our society. Sin continues its reign of terror nearly unchecked. In addition to this, death still operates in this world. This world reeks with the stench of death; it fills our nostrils everywhere we turn. Our loved ones get sick and die. Accidents and tragedy take lives too soon. Christ has been raised, and death has been defeated. But death still reigns in our mortal bodies, and we ache and groan for that day when death will be no more. Thirdly, the created order groans under the weight of humanity’s sin. When our first parents fell, the creation itself was subjected to futility and decay. The idyllic paradise of Eden was lost to the corruption of sin. And lastly, justice and restoration are yet to be realized. Injustice abounds in our society. From all appearances, the weak get weaker and the strong get stronger. There is no real justice; there is no real peace. Wickedness and evil seem to grow day by day. What is wrong is celebrated as right, and what is right is condemned as wrong. The world is turned upside down, and we long for the day when justice will flow like rivers and when peace will rest upon the earth. And we cry out with the Scriptures, “How long, O Lord? How long?”
In theological parlance, this tension between the finished and the unfinished work of Christ is often referred to by the shorthand phrase “already/not yet”. It simply means that God’s plan of redemption for the world has already begun, has already been inaugurated, but has not yet been fully consummated. The work of Christ’s first coming is finished. He died on the cross, he rose again the third day, he sent his life-giving Spirit. But we are still waiting for the work of his second coming, namely the resurrection of the dead, the final judgment, and the new creation. This is the tension in which we now live, and in this tension, we must avoid two extremes. First, we must avoid living as if nothing has been finished. We must learn to rest in the finished work of Christ. We have been forgiven; we have been indwelled by His Spirit. We can have peace. On the other hand, however, we must not live as if everything is already complete. We do live under the burdens of sin and death; we do long for justice and peace. And we can have hope. The work of Christ is finished in its accomplishment, but it is unfinished in its application to the whole of creation. And so, we wait faithfully as Christ has instructed us.
And this is the point, namely that this tension is not ultimately about stages of fulfillment, though that is certainly the best framework for understanding it. Ultimately, this tension is about Christ. His work is unfinished because his story is not over. (On my argument for the centrality of Christ in our eschatological reflection, see here.) In other words, the same Jesus who said, “It is finished” is the same Jesus who is coming again to make all things new. The same Jesus who died on the cross is the same Jesus who is coming again in glory. Or to put it another way, the second coming of Jesus is not a different work; no, it is the completion of the same work that he began 2000 years ago. The second coming completes what the first coming began, because Christ himself is the fulfillment of all our hopes. Our hope is not just about what Christ has done and will do; it is about Christ himself. It is about his presence. In John 14.3, Jesus promised that he would come again and receive us unto himself, that where he is there we may be also. And so, the unfinished nature of Christ’s work is not a failure of the first coming, but the promise of the second. He is our blessed hope.
And so, yes, we live in the middle of this tension; we live in between the already and the not yet. We are already forgiven, but we are still struggling. We are already alive, yet we are still dying. We are already redeemed, yet we are still waiting. We are waiting to be set free from the presence and the corruption of sin once and for all. This is the lived reality of the Christian life—caught between what has been accomplished and what has not yet been revealed. And I suggest that we must embrace this tension with open arms, because it is only when we embrace this tension that we will be able to hope without denying the pain of our sufferings, that we can be confident without giving into naive triumphalism, and that we can have patience without being paralyzed by despair. If we collapse this tension in either direction, we lose something essential. Either we deny the reality of our present struggle, or we forget the certainty of our future hope. This is the ground that we must stand on, the already and the not yet. We do not live as those waiting for Christ to begin his work, but as those waiting for him to complete it.
When Jesus said, “It is finished.”, he surely meant it. Christ’s work is finished, and yet, it is not yet finished completely. It is finished in its foundation, but it is unfinished in its consummation. We are waiting for the full glory of Christ and his work to be finally revealed on earth. And even in acknowledging the unfinished aspects of Christ work, we must affirm that the work of the cross is not undone; it is unfolding. The resurrection is not isolated; it is expanding. And one day, we will all be raised to meet him in the air, and from that point on, we will always be with the Lord. This is our hope, namely that the Christ who finished his work on the cross is coming again to bring it to final completion. Even so, come quickly, Lord Jesus! Maranatha!
On Whispers of Revolution: A Book Review

Bird, Michael F. Bird. Whispers of Revolution: Jesus and the Coming of God as King. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2025.
When we confess that Christ is King, we are tapping into a longing that goes back to the very beginning of creation. Adam and Eve were placed in the garden of Eden to serve as God’s vice-regents, to rule and to establish his dominion in the world. Of course, our first parents failed when they succumbed to the deceptions of the serpent, and from that point on, the story of the Bible revolves around God’s plan to reestablish his dominion in the world. In a new book entitled Whispers of Revolution: Jesus and the Coming of God as King, Michael F. Bird applies this lens to the person and work of Jesus of Nazareth. Bird is Deputy Principle and Lecturer in Theology at Ridley College, Melbourne, and he is the author of over 30 books, including the award winning The Gospel of Lord: How the Early Church Wrote the Story of Jesus. In this book, Bird argues that Jesus was driven by the conviction that through his words and work, through his mission and message, God was unveiling his kingship in a way that would rescue Israel and eventually restore the whole world.
Bird’s essential thesis is that the life and ministry of Jesus is best understood within the context of Jewish restoration eschatology. Jewish restoration eschatology is simply the hope that one day God would bring an end to Israel’s exile, restore their national and spiritual life as his people, and through them bring the nations into submission under his rule. This hope is grounded in the visions of the canonical prophets, and it serves as the foundation for the theology and worldview of Second Temple Judaism. For Bird, this worldview “provides the key to understanding Jesus’ mission, aims, self-understanding and hope.” (56) With this lens in view, then, Bird goes on to walk through the Gospel accounts to show how the details of the Jesus earthly ministry fit within this framework. Along the way he discusses topics such as, the birth and early life of Jesus, Jesus’ self-understanding of himself as Messiah, his teaching about the Kingdom of God and other topics, his interactions with his contemporaries, his’ last days in Jerusalem, and his death and resurrection. In all of this, God is coming, coming as king. He concludes, “Jesus himself started the whisper of this revolution, one involving a reordering of power, Israel’s regathering, the redemption of the Jews, the defeat of Satan, and the renewal of creation.” (300) However, this good news could not remain a whisper; it had to be shared, repeated, declared, argued, and even shouted afar. And this is exactly what Jesus instructed his followers to do.
In terms of strengths, Bird is particularly helpful when he is discussing the place of historical Jesus studies in relation to New Testament Theology. After all, Jesus did not write any of the books that we have included in the NT canon. Technically, the NT Documents are written about him, but none of them were actually written by him. So, we may rightly speak of the theology of Matthew or Luke or Mark or John, but can we also speak of the theology of Jesus himself? Bird suggests that the study of the historical Jesus is a necessary prolegomena o our study of NT theology. Jesus is the church’s primal theologian, and it is his teaching, his ministry, his life and death that stands at the heart of the New Testament. Therefore, we cannot simply relegate historical Jesus studies to the domain of historians alone; no, the study of historical Jesus is a fundamental component of the theologians toolbox when it comes to understanding the theology of Paul or John or Matthew or Peter or James. Bird writes, “Jesus was the first theologian of the Jesus movement, and his is the creative mind behind so much of the church’s generative tradition.” (15-16) This means that the theology of the NT should find its impetus, not exclusively but at least initially, on the lips of Jesus of Nazareth. He goes on to write that, “the study of the historical Jesus is a reminder that the ‘word became flesh’.” (17). In other words, if we truly believe that our faith in grounded in the historical realities of Jesus life and ministry, death and resurrection, then we must give the study of the historical Jesus its proper place when it comes to understanding the New Testament.
One minor reservation that I have concerns Bird’s relatively frequent appeal to the Gospel of Thomas. Thomas is a mid-to-late second-century sayings collection comprising 114 logia attributed to Jesus, many of which exhibit clear literary and thematic dependence upon Synoptic tradition. While some scholars continue to argue that Thomas may preserve independent and possibly early Jesus traditions, the case for its independence remains highly contested. In numerous instances, the parallels suggest secondary development rather than primitive preservation, and several logia reflect theological trajectories consistent with the emerging Gnostic or proto-Gnostic tendencies. To be clear, Thomas is an important witness to the reception and reinterpretation of Jesus’ sayings in the second century. However, its value for reconstructing the historical Jesus is, in my view, extremely limited. For that reason, Bird’s approximately twenty-two references to Thomas—nearly half the number of his citations of the far more substantial and canonically received Gospel of John—feel somewhat disproportionate. While these references do not materially affect his overall thesis, a more restrained use of Thomas would have strengthened the historiographical clarity of the argument.
Whispers of Revolution is not a fifth gospel but at the same time it is not merely a gospel harmony. It is historically grounded, insightful, and clarifying reconstruction of Jesus within the context of first century Judaism and its hopes for restoration. And insofar as the historical study of Jesus of Nazareth is “indispensable for religious scholarship and the life of Christian faith” (14), Bird’s book is both accessible and academically rigorous. It will be a great benefit both to lay Christians who want to understand Jesus and the gospels better and to scholars who are looking for a clear and coherent understanding of Jesus to which they can correlate their own work. And so, I would gladly recommend this book, and if I were ever to teach a course on the life of Jesus or the Gospels, I would require it for my students. When Jesus was with his disciples at Caesarea Philippi, he asked them, “Who do people say that I am?”, and then, more importantly, he asked them, “Who do you say that I am?” This is the fundamental question we must all be able to answer. Bird has answered it: Jesus was a messianic prophet of Jewish restoration in fulfillment Old Testament hopes. While Jesus was certainly more than this, he was certainly not less, and Whispers of Revolution is a great book for those who want to understand the life and times, the ministry and message of Jesus as he himself might have understood it.
On the Wonder of the Incarnation and Whether Mary Knew
Christmas really is one of my most favorite times of the year. I love the decorations, the gifts, the parties, and the church Christmas programs, but most of all I love the music. The traditional Christmas carols, the sacred Christmas hymns, they just give me all the feels when it comes to Christmas; in the car, at home, at church, you will almost always find me listening to Christmas music during the month of December. And one of my most favorite Christmas songs is the song “Mary, Did You Know?”, and my most favorite arrangement of the song is performed by Mark Lowry with the acapella group Voctave singing backup (posted above). Mark Lowry wrote the lyrics in 1985 when he was asked to write a script for a church Christmas play, and the lyrics were put to music in 1991 by Buddy Greene. Of course, it has been recorded by many varied recording artists over the years, both secular and sacred, and it is sung and played regularly during Christmas programs in churches all across the United States and, no doubt, around the world.
However, every year it seems, I read some renewed or repeated criticism of the song on social media. Some attempt to dismiss the song theologically, citing the Annunciation and the Magnificat as evidence that “she knew”. I have even seen some who have attempted to go line by line through the song to give a yes or no answer to each rhetorical question. Similarly, those in the Roman Catholic tradition take issue with the suggestion that Mary needed to be “delivered” and “made new” because of their (erroneous) beliefs about the sinlessness of Mary. Others argue that the song is mawkish, sappy, and infantilizing, that it is “the most sexist Christmas song ever written,” or that it “treats her like a clueless child.” Still others dismiss the song simply because it is overplayed and/or poorly performed by well-meaning church members during the Christmas season as “special” music. And to be honest, when I read criticisms like these, I just shake my head and wonder how we have lost our wonder at the miracle of the incarnation.
Biblically, it is true that Luke presents Mary as a paragon of faith. When she is confronted by the angel Gabriel with the news that she will conceive by the Holy Spirit and give birth to the Son of God, she responds with simple faith, “See, I am the Lord’s servant. May it happen to me as you have said.” (Luke 1.38) And her Magnificat (Luke 1.46-55) clearly indicates that she understood that this was a pivotal moment in the unfolding of God’s plan of redemption for the world. However, we also know that at one point during his earthly ministry, she came with her other children to try to hide Jesus away because they thought he was an embarrassment to the family. (Mark 3:31-35, parallels Matthew 12.46-50, Luke 8.19-21) Time and again, the Gospels detail how the first followers of Jesus struggled to fully understanding the significance of who he was and what he had come to do, and we should assume that Mary would have been no different. We know that Mary treasured and pondered all these things in her heart, but the Bible is clear that the first followers of Jesus, including Mary and his brothers, grew in their understanding of the person and work of Jesus over the course of his life and ministry and that they did not understand him in full until after his resurrection and the coming of the Spirit.
The point is that we should not underestimate the richness of what it means for God to become flesh. When Jesus was born in the Bethlehem 2000 years ago, there was already plenty of theological and cultural expectations as to what he was supposed to be and do. But Jesus turned those expectations on their heads, and he demonstrated that he is a Messiah who cannot be fit into a preconceived box. And as his followers, we should never lose our wonder at this fact. Jesus will always be more than we could possibly hope to comprehend; we will never have him fully figured out. Even when we reach glory, we are told that “He had a name written that no one knows except himself.” (Revelation 19.12) This means that even then there will be more to learn and understand about him when he returns as glorious king. We must never lose our wonder at the person and work of Jesus. Even the things we think we know about him pale in comparison to the fullness of his glory.
And so, when we hear the song “Mary, Did You Know?” this Christmas season, we shouldn’t try to dissect it theologically. We shouldn’t dismiss it because of its musical style, its tone and perspective, or even its emotionality. We should allow it to spur our reflections, to feed our wonder, to drive us to worship the God who became flesh for our sakes, who suffered and died in our place, and who is coming again to receive us unto himself. The song is an artistic, poetic reflection on the miracle of Christmas and the sheer mystery of the incarnation. Mary was in a unique position to feel the weight and wonder of it all, and at Christmas, it is right for us to enter into her experience, to ponder anew what it must have been like, and to fall down in worship of the God who became flesh. This Christmas, let us rekindle our wonder. Let us stand in awe and silence, and let us rejoice in the fact that we have a savior who came to heal our brokenness, to free us from sin, and to restore in us the joy of living in his presence. He is Emmanuel; He is God with us!
On the Roman Catholic Church and the Nature of the Gospel

Is the Roman Catholic Church a Gospel-denying church? This question was the theme of a recent debate between Allen S. Nelson IV, pastor of Providence Baptist Church in Perryville, AR, and Father Stephen Hart, pastor/priest at Sacred Heart Church in Morrilton, AR. (A video of the debate can be found on the YouTube page of Providence Baptist Church, here.) While it is true that both participants had strong moments in the two hour event, it is not my purpose to evaluate their performances or to name a winner. I think that Pastor Nelson was at his best when he was pushing the details of the official teachings of the Roman Catholic Church as stated in their published documents, and Father Hart was at his best when he was giving the Catholic understanding of relevant New Testament texts. In the final analysis, though, I suspect that most people went away from the event feeling confirmed in the positions they held coming in and believing that their preferred candidate had won the evening. In the space that follows, I would simply like to suggest four important takeaways that were clarified for me.
First, the debate made it clear that the Roman Catholic Church generally misunderstands the New Testament concept of justification. Lexically, the δικαι- word group (words that are usually translated in the NT as righteousness and/or justified) refers to a forensic or legal status of innocence or guiltlessness. In his commentary on Romans in the NICNT series, Douglas Moo writes, “To justify signifies, according to forensic usage, to acquit a guilty one and declare him or her righteous.” (86) As we read in Romans 5.19, “For just as through one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so also through the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous (δικαίωμα).” In other words, it is a once-for-all gavel dropping declaration that a person is not guilty of their sin before God because of their faith in the atoning work of Christ. And what is important is that this status cannot be changed because of our sin, nor can it be augmented by good works. From beginning to end, it is a gift that is given by faith alone and that is preserved, maintained, and completed by God through His Spirit. As the Apostle Paul writes, “I am sure of this, that he who started a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 1.6) Or again, in Romans 8.29-30, we read, “For those he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, so that he would be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those he predestined, he also called; and those he called, he also justified; and those he justified, he also glorified.”
However, the RCC insists that this declaration of righteousness, being God’s powerful word, must be effectual, and include thereby moral transformation. For example, the Council of Trent defines justification as that “which is not remission of sins merely, but also the sanctification and renewal of the inward man.” (Chapter 7) Trent goes on to argue that “by mortifying the members of their own flesh, and by presenting them as instruments of justice unto sanctification, they, through the observance of the commandments of God and of the Church, faith co-operating with good works, increase in that justice which they have received through the grace of Christ, and are still further justified.” (Chapter 10) And so, it logically follows when Trent resolves that, “If any one saith, that the justice received is not preserved and also increased before God through good works; but that the said works are merely the fruits and signs of Justification obtained, but not a cause of the increase thereof; let him be anathema.” (Canon 24) Of course, the Council of Trent, first convened in 1545, was the Church’s response to the Protestant Reformation, and so one can’t help but wonder if there isn’t some amount of reactionism that has influenced their positions on these matters. Nevertheless, it seems clear from these statements that Trent’s understanding of justification goes well beyond the New Testament understanding of the term.
Secondly, and the statements above demonstrates this, but the debate made it clear that the Roman Catholic Church confuses the doctrine of justification with the doctrines of regeneration and sanctification. Regeneration (aka new birth or “being born again”) refers to that work of the Spirit in which a person is given spiritual life. In other words, the Spirit transforms an individual from a state of spiritual death to a state of new creation in Christ, thus, enabling them to repent, believe, and live in accordance with God’s will. By the same token, sanctification is simply the lifelong process by which a person is gradually transformed more and more into the image of Christ, becomes more holy, and learns to walk in obedience to the law of Christ. As we read in Hebrews 10.14, “For by one offering he has perfected forever those who are being sanctified.” (ESV/LSB) Note especially in this verse that we are perfected forever, and yet we are being sanctified. The point is that these are logically distinct aspects of the salvation process (ordo salutis), even if in actual experience they are sometimes indistinguishable.
But in the teaching of the RCC, all of this inheres within the doctrine of justification. As we saw above, the Catholic church defines justification as that “which is not remission of sins merely, but also the sanctification and renewal of the inward man.” Whatever the reason for this lack of theological precision may be, this indiscriminate intermingling of categories leads inevitably to the conclusion that a person’s justification is dependent upon their sanctification. Or to put it another way, the Roman Catholic view seems that imply that while justification is begun by faith, it is continued, maintained, and eventually confirmed by good works. This is perhaps why Trent envisages the possibility that a person’s initial justification can be lost. In Chapter 14, Trent reads, “As regards those who, by sin, have fallen from the received grace of Justification, they may be again justified, when, God exciting them, through the sacrament of Penance they shall have attained to the recovery, by the merit of Christ, of the grace lost.” If a person’s justification can be lost by their disobedience, then it necessarily follows that it must be maintained (or should I say earned) by their obedience. Whatever the case, it is clear that in the Catholic understanding, the determining factor in a person’s justification is their obedience, i.e. their good “works”, and not their faith.
Now, I would be remiss if I did not also submit the opposing position to equal scrutiny, and so, before I conclude this article, I would like to offer two areas of weakness in our position that I believe were exposed in the aforementioned debate. And let me hasten to add that these points should not be received as any kind of criticism of Pastor Nelson; based on the limited interaction I have had with him, I find him to be a biblically faithful, theologically astute individual. But, as it regards the way that our views are typically represented in these discussions, I think there are two important takeaways for us to consider.
The first takeaway for those holding our perspective might be stated thus, namely that Protestants have a tendency to underemphasize the importance, nay even the necessity, of good works. In our zeal to proclaim and defend that time honored Reformation principle sola fide, or justification by faith alone, we inadvertently imply that living a life of obedience that issues forth in good works is some kind of optional add-on. We suggest, though perhaps unintentionally, that the Gospel’s call to live a life of ongoing discipleship to Jesus is something that is reserved for the religious elite, those who are really serious about their faith, those who are truly devout, so-called ‘super Christians’. But the Apostle James is clear on this point when he writes, “You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone.” (James 2.24) Of course, this is not a contradiction of the Apostle Paul, nor is it inconsistent with the Reformation’s emphasis on faith alone rightly understood (contra Luther). Rather, it is a reminder that the kind of faith that justifies is a faith that works. In other words, the principle of sola fide does not mean that a person can believe in Jesus and then live in whatever manner they so choose. This kind of “easy-believism’ is in truth no faith at all. In fact, it is demonic (James 2.19), and it does not and cannot save. A faith that saves, a faith that justifies, is a faith that works, and on this point, James and Paul are in complete agreement.
There is a sense in which our works will play a role at the final judgment. Jesus himself says in 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 reward each according to what he has done. ” And in Second Corinthians 5.10, we read, “For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each may be repaid for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil.” Or again, in Romans 2.6-8, Paul writes (quoting Proverbs 24.12 et al.), “He will repay each one according to his works: eternal life to those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor, and immortality; but wrath and anger to those who are self-seeking and disobey the truth while obeying unrighteousness.” And finally, in Hebrews 12.14, we are told to “Pursue … holiness [because] without it no one will see the Lord.” This does not mean that we are “saved” by or because of our works, but it does mean that living a life of obedience to God validates or proves that our faith is indeed a saving faith. The message of the Gospel is built on both the indicatives of what Jesus has done for us and imperatives that we are called to obey for Him. We receive the indicatives by faith, and we obey the imperatives because of what we have received by faith. The order matters here. If we put the imperatives of the Gospel before the indicatives of the Gospel, then we distort the Gospel into a salvation by works. In the logic of the Gospel, the indicatives precede and enable the imperatives. But the point is that they are both necessary parts of the gospel.
And this brings me to the second weakness of the Protestant position that I believe was exposed in the debate, namely that Protestants have a tendency to reduce the Gospel to its lowest common denominator. There can be no doubt that justification by faith is an important, even essential, foundation for our salvation, but the Gospel is so much more than justification by faith. The Gospel is the good news that in the person and work of Jesus Christ God has entered into his creation to redeem his people by dying for their sin as an atonement and by defeating death through His resurrection and to renew his creation by establishing his rule on earth, so that through the Spirit they can walk in perfect conformity to His ways and experience the blessings of His ongoing presence in and among them. It is this vision of a renewed humanity living in a renewed world in which God is eternally present to bless that is the goal of the biblical narrative (Revelation 21-22). This is why we must constantly remind ourselves that even though we have already been saved (justification), we are still being saved (sanctification), and yet one day we will be saved (glorification). And all of this is received and experienced by and through faith, but this faith must be a faith by which we walk in conformity to the way and will of Christ.
So, is the Roman Catholic Church a Gospel-denying church? I don’t know, but it does seem to me that their official teachings, whether explicitly or implicitly, confuse important concepts and components of the Gospel, and in doing so, it has the potential to lead even the most sincere and devout parishioner to believe that they are saved by living a morally upright and generally good and charitable life. Can a person be genuinely saved in the Roman Catholic Church? I think yes, but I would suspect that this is in spite of its official dogmas and teachings. And beyond their doctrine of salvation, there are many other tenets and teachings of the Roman Catholic tradition that I consider to be in clear contradiction to the teaching of Scripture. However, that is a question for another time. I will simply close this post with the words of the Apostle Paul, because I think they sum up the issues discussed in this article particularly well. “For you are saved by grace through faith, and this is not from yourselves; it is God’s gift— not from works, so that no one can boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared ahead of time for us to do.” (Ephesians 2.8-10)





