Tag Archives: Sanctification

On Thinking Theologically (Weekend Vlog)


On Religious Affections and Saving Faith

A few weeks ago, I was sitting in a Sunday school class, and we were discussing James 1.12, which says, “Blessed is the one who endures trials, because when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.” This verse raises an important question about the relationship between our affections for God and saving faith. In other words, if we are justified by faith alone in Christ alone, then what role do our affections play in saving faith. On the one hand, we do not want to reduce saving faith to mere intellectual agreement, i.e. “I believe that Christianity is true.” On the other hand, we do not want to reduce faith to sheer emotional experience, i.e. “I know I am saved simply because I feel close to God.” The Scriptures reject both of these reductions. Instead, the Scriptures present saving faith as the wholehearted response of a person to God’s self-revelation in Christ—a response that engages the mind, the will, and the affections. However, before we consider the relationship between saving faith and the affections, we must first ask a more basic question: What is saving faith?

Throughout the history of the church, theologians have commonly described saving faith as consisting of three essential elements: notitia (knowledge), assensus (assent), and fiducia (trust). Together, these categories help explain what it means to believe in Christ for salvation. First, a person must possess notitia, that is, a basic knowledge of the gospel and the identity of Jesus Christ. Second, that knowledge must be accompanied by assensus, an acknowledgment that the gospel is true. Yet Scripture makes it clear that knowledge and assent alone are not enough. James reminds us, “You believe that God is one. Good! Even the demons believe—and they shudder” (James 2:19). The demons possess both knowledge of God and an orthodox understanding of who he is, yet they remain in rebellion because they lack fiducia—a wholehearted trust that rests in God alone for salvation. Saving faith, therefore, is more than simply knowing the truth or agreeing that it is true; it is entrusting oneself to God in Christ. This naturally raises another question: What does that trust actually look like, and what role do our affections play in its expression?

The point, then, is that saving faith is never merely cognitive. As Paul writes in Romans 10:9, “If you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” In Scripture, the heart is far more than the seat of our emotions. It represents the very center of our personhood—the source of our thinking, willing, loving, and desiring. This is why, when Jesus is asked about the greatest commandment, he cites the Shema: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” (Matt. 22:37). Saving faith, therefore, is not merely the acceptance of certain propositions about Christ; it is the wholehearted entrusting of ourselves to him. Such faith redirects the deepest loves and loyalties of the heart toward the One who gave himself for us. At this point, however, an important distinction must be made. The affections are not the same thing as our passing emotions. Emotions often fluctuate with our circumstances, but the affections are the settled inclinations, desires, and loves of the soul. Consequently, when we trust in Christ for salvation, we do more than experience a passing feeling—we come to treasure him as the supreme object of our love and devotion.

Perhaps no theologian has reflected more deeply on this subject than Jonathan Edwards in his classic work Religious Affections. Writing during the First Great Awakening of the 1730s and 1740s, Edwards ministered in a period marked by extraordinary religious enthusiasm. As revival spread throughout the American colonies, many professed faith in Christ and displayed intense emotional experiences. Yet these developments raised an important question: How can we distinguish genuine saving faith from merely temporary or emotional religious excitement? It was this question that prompted Edwards to write Religious Affections. His central argument is that true religion “in great part consists in holy affections” because regeneration does more than inform the mind—it transforms the heart. Saving faith not only convinces us that Christ is worthy of our trust; it also reorients our deepest loves toward him. Edwards was therefore not measuring the authenticity of faith by the intensity of a person’s emotions. Rather, he sought to identify the enduring dispositions of the heart that inevitably accompany the new birth. In doing so, he helped clarify an important biblical truth: genuine saving faith transforms not only what we believe but also what we love.

The transformation of our affections begins with the regenerating work of God. Scripture does not describe salvation as the mere addition of new information to an otherwise unchanged heart. Rather, God promises, “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you” (Ezek. 36:26). This is the new birth of which Jesus speaks in John 3 and the new creation Paul describes in 2 Corinthians 5:17. Regeneration changes the deepest orientation of the person, enabling us to see Christ as beautiful, trust him as sufficient, and love him as Lord. These new affections arise because, through faith, we are united to Christ by the Holy Spirit and begin to share in the life of the One to whom we belong. However, they do not earn our justification, nor do they become an additional ground of acceptance before God. We are justified by faith alone on the basis of Christ alone. Yet the faith through which we are justified is never left barren or unchanged. It becomes fruitful in sanctification because the Spirit who grants faith also renews the heart from which faith arises. The order, therefore, must be preserved: God regenerates, the sinner believes, God justifies, and the justified believer begins to grow in holiness. Our love for God, delight in Christ, and desire for obedience are not the merit of our salvation; they are the evidence that God has made us new.

This is the important distinction: our affections for Christ are evidence of our salvation and therefore contribute to our assurance, but they are never the ground of it. The foundation of our assurance rests entirely upon the finished work of Christ and the promises of God confirmed by the indwelling Holy Spirit. At the same time, the Spirit who assures us of our adoption also transforms our hearts, producing new desires and holy affections that testify to his ongoing work within us. Many believers ask the wrong questions when examining themselves. They wonder, “Do I feel enough?” or “Do I know enough?” Yet Scripture directs our attention elsewhere. The better question is, “Has Christ begun changing what I love?” Am I growing in my hatred of sin and my love for Christ? Do I desire to read and meditate upon God’s Word? Do I increasingly delight in holiness and long to obey him? Do I love God’s people and desire fellowship with them? None of these things earns God’s favor, but together they provide evidence that he has given us a new heart. The Christian’s assurance, therefore, rests on Christ alone, while the transformed affections of the heart bear witness that his saving work is truly taking root within us.

Saving faith, then, is far richer than either mere intellectual agreement or passing emotional experience. It knows the truth of the gospel, believes that truth to be certain, entrusts itself wholly to Christ, and, through the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit, comes to love the One in whom it has believed. In other words, saving faith engages the whole person—mind, will, and affections—in response to God’s gracious self-revelation in Jesus Christ. This is why the Christian life is not marked by perfect emotions or flawless devotion but by a heart that is being steadily transformed by the grace of God. None of us possesses perfect affections in this life. Our love for Christ is often weak, inconsistent, and mixed with the remnants of sin. Yet the Spirit who gave us a new heart does not abandon his work. Day by day, he continues to redirect our loves, deepen our trust, and conform us to the image of Christ. The mark of genuine saving faith, therefore, is not the perfection of our love but the presence of a new love—a heart that increasingly treasures Christ above all else. These affections do not save us, nor do they merit God’s favor. Rather, they testify that the One who does save us has already begun his transforming work within us. May we therefore fix our eyes on Christ, for as we behold his glory in the Scriptures, our faith is strengthened, our assurance deepened, and our hearts are increasingly taught to love the One who first loved us.


On Psalm 119.169-176 (Taw)

169 Let my cry reach you, Lord;
give me understanding according to your word.
170 Let my plea reach you;
rescue me according to your promise.
171 My lips pour out praise,
for you teach me your statutes.
172 My tongue sings about your promise,
for all your commands are righteous.
173 May your hand be ready to help me,
for I have chosen your precepts.
174 I long for your salvation, Lord,
and your instruction is my delight.
175 Let me live, and I will praise you;
may your judgments help me.
176 I wander like a lost sheep;
seek your servant,
for I do not forget your commands.

Well, we have finally come to the last stanza of Psalm 119 (ת/taw), and it is fitting that our psalmist opens with a prayer. In verses 169–170, he petitions the Lord, “Let my cry reach you, Lord; give me understanding according to your word. Let my plea reach you; rescue me according to your promise.” After nearly 170 verses extolling the beauty, perfection, and life-giving power of God’s Word, he is still asking for understanding. In other words, his extensive knowledge of Holy Scripture has not diminished his dependence upon God. In the language of systematic theology, this truth is often described as the doctrine of illumination. Illumination is the gracious work of the Holy Spirit whereby he enlightens our minds and hearts to understand and receive God’s Word as he intended. (For a more extended discussion of this doctrine, see On Biblical Interpretation and the Holy Spirit.) The point is that a right understanding of Scripture is ultimately a gift of God. It certainly comes through careful study and diligent reflection, but our study must always be accompanied by humble dependence upon the Spirit who inspired the Scriptures in the first place. Throughout Psalm 119, we have repeatedly seen that God’s Word imparts wisdom, yet wisdom comes as God illumines the heart. The mature believer, therefore, never outgrows the need to pray, “Give me understanding according to your word.”

He also prays for deliverance when he says, “Rescue me according to your promise.” Once again, we are reminded that our psalmist continues to face hardship and opposition. Throughout Psalm 119 he has repeatedly cried out for God’s intervention, and here the same prayer rises once more from his lips. Yet what is particularly striking is the basis upon which he asks for deliverance. He does not appeal to his own merit, his own worthiness, or even his own obedience. Rather, he appeals to God’s promise. In other words, his confidence rests not in himself but in God’s covenant faithfulness. Or to put it another way, even after all his devotion to God’s Word, he still depends entirely upon divine grace. As D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones wisely observed, “Everything is of grace in the Christian life from the very beginning to the very end.” Apart from God’s grace we have nothing and are nothing. Even our most faithful obedience must be sustained and empowered by the God who first called us to himself. This is why the promises of Scripture are such a source of comfort for the believer. They remind us that God’s faithfulness does not fluctuate with our circumstances or our performance. Rather, his promises are rooted in his unchanging character. It is these gracious promises that become the foundation of confident prayer, enabling us to approach the throne of grace with boldness because we know that the God who has spoken is always faithful to his Word.

In verses 171–172, our psalmist moves from prayer to praise when he says, “My lips pour out praise, for you teach me your statutes. My tongue sings about your promise, for all your commands are righteous.” Notice here the motivation for his praise: it is that God has taught him his righteous commands and statutes. In other words, the purpose of Holy Scripture is not merely information. Our study of God’s Word should produce praise, obedience, and delight. Or, to put it another way, theology should produce doxology. God’s commands are righteous; therefore, praise is the fitting response. This has been one of the dominant themes throughout Psalm 119. The psalmist has repeatedly reminded us that God’s Word is sweeter than honey, more valuable than gold, a lamp to his feet, and a source of wisdom, comfort, hope, and peace. Yet all of these blessings ultimately direct his attention back to the God who has spoken. Scripture never terminates upon itself. It reveals the character, faithfulness, wisdom, and holiness of the Lord, and as we behold these divine perfections, our hearts are moved to worship. This is why genuine knowledge of God can never remain merely intellectual. The more deeply God’s truth takes root within us, the more naturally praise flows from our lips. If our study of Scripture produces greater knowledge without greater love for God, then we have missed the very purpose for which the Scriptures were given. True biblical understanding always culminates in joyful worship, because the ultimate goal of God’s Word is not simply that we know about him, but that we know him, delight in him, and glorify him with our lives.

In verses 173–174, our psalmist continues this theme of dependence when he prays, “May your hand be ready to help me, for I have chosen your precepts. I long for your salvation, Lord, and your instruction is my delight.” At first glance, these two statements may seem contradictory. On the one hand, he declares that he has chosen God’s precepts. On the other hand, he immediately asks for God’s help. Yet this is precisely the balance that runs throughout the Christian life. Genuine obedience is never independent of divine grace. Our willingness to follow the Lord is itself sustained by his continual presence and power. The psalmist recognizes that choosing God’s ways does not eliminate his need for God’s help; rather, it deepens his awareness of that need. Likewise, his longing for God’s salvation reminds us that he continues to look forward in hope. Though he delights in God’s instruction, he still awaits the full realization of God’s saving purposes. Throughout Psalm 119 we have repeatedly encountered this tension between present obedience and future expectation. God’s Word teaches us how to live faithfully today while at the same time directing our hope toward the salvation that God has promised to complete. The Christian life, therefore, is one of continual dependence upon the Lord, trusting that the God who calls us to walk in his ways is also the God who strengthens us to persevere until his work of redemption is brought to completion.

The final verses of Psalm 119 bring us to one of the most surprising conclusions in all of Scripture. After extolling the beauty, wisdom, and sufficiency of God’s Word for 175 verses, our psalmist concludes with this remarkable confession: “Let me live, and I will praise you;
may your judgments help me. I wander like a lost sheep; seek your servant, for I do not forget your commands.”
At first glance, this seems almost out of place. Has not our psalmist repeatedly affirmed his love for God’s law, his delight in God’s commandments, and his commitment to walk in God’s ways? Why, then, does he end by describing himself as a wandering sheep? The answer is that this is not a confession of apostasy but of humble dependence. He recognizes that even the most faithful believer remains vulnerable apart from the preserving grace of God. Yet his wandering is immediately balanced by a profound affirmation: “I do not forget your commands.” Though he stumbles, he still belongs to the Lord. His hope rests not in his own ability to remain faithful but in the God who faithfully seeks and restores his servants. It is difficult to read these words without thinking of the Good Shepherd who came “to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19.10), or of Jesus’ parable of the shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine sheep to search for the one that has wandered (Luke 15.4–7). Indeed, Isaiah had already declared, “We all went astray like sheep; we all have turned to our own way; and the Lord has punished him for the iniquity of us all” (Isa. 53.6). Thus, the final note of Psalm 119 is not one of self-confidence but of grace. The believer’s security ultimately rests not in the strength of his obedience but in the faithfulness of the Shepherd who continually seeks, preserves, and restores his wandering sheep.

As Psalm 119 draws to a close, we discover that its final emphasis is not human achievement but divine faithfulness. Throughout these twenty-two stanzas, our psalmist has celebrated the beauty, wisdom, sufficiency, and life-giving power of God’s Word. He has endured persecution, wrestled with suffering, delighted in God’s commandments, longed for deliverance, and found peace amid adversity. Yet the final word of the psalm is not self-confidence but humble dependence. Even after a lifetime devoted to God’s Word, he still cries out for understanding, seeks God’s help, and confesses his need for the Shepherd who alone can preserve him. In this way, Psalm 119 reminds us that the purpose of Scripture is never merely to increase our knowledge but to deepen our dependence upon the God who has spoken. The more faithfully we walk according to God’s Word, the more clearly we recognize our continual need for his sustaining grace. It is this gracious God who teaches, strengthens, seeks, and restores his people. And that, perhaps, is the greatest lesson of Psalm 119: the written Word continually directs us to the living God, whose truth, presence, and faithfulness are the sure foundation of the believer’s life.

For further study:
Introduction
Psalm 119.1-8
Psalm 119.9-16
Psalm 119.17-24
Psalm 119.25-32
Psalm 119.33-40
Psalm 119.41-48
Psalm 119.49-56
Psalm 119.57-64
Psalm 119.65-72
Psalm 119.73-80
Psalm 119.81-88
Psalm 119.89-96
Psalm 119.97-104
Psalm 119.105-112
Psalm 119.113-120
Psalm 119.121-128
Psalm 119.129-136
Psalm 119.137-144
Psalm 119.145-152
Psalm 119.153-160
Psalm 119.161-168


On Justification and the Roman Catholic Church

Some time ago, I reviewed a debate between Allen S. Nelson IV, pastor of Providence Baptist Church, and Father Stephen Hart of Sacred Heart Church on the question of whether the Roman Catholic Church is a gospel-denying church. (See my review here.) This debate centered on the doctrine of justification and exposed the fundamental differences between Protestant and Roman Catholic understandings of how a person is made right before God. Of course, justification stands at the very center of the gospel itself; it is not merely a secondary disagreement between theological traditions. A distorted understanding of justification necessarily distorts the good news because it touches the question of how sinners are reconciled to God through Christ. And this is precisely the issue that the Apostle Paul takes up in the Epistle to the Galatians. In Galatians, Paul argues with remarkable force that justification is by faith apart from works of the law and warns that any alteration of the gospel strikes at the heart of Christian truth. In this post, then, I would like to consider how Paul’s argument in Galatians relates to the Roman Catholic understanding of justification, because if the message of Galatians is taken seriously, it forces us to ask whether justification can, in any sense, be grounded in works without compromising the gospel itself.

The situation addressed in the Epistle to the Galatians is relatively well known, but it is worth reviewing briefly for the sake of clarity. Sometime after Paul’s first missionary journey, it appears that a group of Jewish Christians came into the churches of Galatia and began teaching that Gentile believers needed to be circumcised and adopt the Torah in order to be fully included among the people of God. (On the timeline of events in Galatia, see here.) These teachers are often described as “Judaizers,” though the issue at stake is frequently misunderstood. They were not simply advocating for moral effort or “legalism” in the modern sense of the term. Rather, they were challenging the basis upon which Gentiles could belong to the covenant community. Was faith in Christ sufficient, or did covenant membership require obedience to the Mosaic law as well? In other words, the issue was not whether obedience mattered in the Christian life. Paul himself repeatedly affirms the necessity of holiness and faithful living. The question, rather, was whether obedience to the law contributed in any sense to justification and covenant inclusion. And it is precisely at this point that Paul responds with extraordinary urgency, because for him the integrity of the gospel itself was at stake.

Against this backdrop, Paul’s central claim is that “no one is justified before God by the law, because the righteous will live by faith” (3.11). The question, of course, revolves around what Paul means by the term “justified.” However, the qualifying phrase “before God” is especially revealing. Paul is not speaking primarily about inward moral transformation or spiritual renewal, important as those realities are elsewhere in his theology. Rather, he is speaking about a person’s standing before the divine judge. Justification, then, is fundamentally forensic in nature. It is a legal declaration in which the believer is counted righteous before God on the basis of faith rather than works of the law. This is why Paul consistently contrasts justification with human obedience throughout Galatians. If righteousness could be obtained through the law, then there would be no need for Christ’s death (2.21). The issue is not whether good works follow genuine faith; Paul clearly believes that they do. The issue is whether those works contribute in any sense to the believer’s right standing before God. Paul’s answer is emphatic and uncompromising: sinners are justified by faith in Christ apart from the works of the law. Their acceptance before God rests not in their own obedience, but in the saving work of Christ received through faith.

However, the question must still be asked: what exactly does Paul mean by “works of the law”? In recent decades, the so-called “New Perspective on Paul,” especially in the work of James D. G. Dunn, has argued that these “works” refer primarily to Jewish socio-religious boundary markers such as circumcision, Sabbath observance, and food laws. On this reading, Paul’s concern is chiefly horizontal. The issue is how Jews and Gentiles can exist together within the same covenant community without the Torah functioning as a barrier between them. There is certainly truth in this observation, especially given the prominence of circumcision in Galatians itself. However, this understanding is ultimately too narrow because it does not fully account for Paul’s repeated emphasis on justification “before God.” Paul’s concern is not merely social fellowship, but a person’s standing before the divine judge. Therefore, “works of the law” cannot be reduced simply to ceremonial observances or ethnic boundary markers. Rather, the phrase must encompass any attempt to establish righteousness before God through obedience to the law. This is precisely why Paul contrasts law and promise, works and faith, curse and blessing. For Paul, the law cannot justify because fallen humanity cannot keep it perfectly. Faith, by contrast, receives what God promises in Christ rather than attempting to achieve righteousness through human obedience.

This is made clear by the way that Paul builds his argument in Galatians, namely on a series of theological contrasts that structure his understanding of the gospel itself. Central to his reasoning is the example of Abraham. Long before the giving of the law, Abraham “believed God, and it was credited to him for righteousness” (3.6). This point is crucial because it demonstrates that justification by faith precedes the Mosaic covenant altogether. The promise given to Abraham was received through faith, not through obedience to the law. The law, therefore, cannot function as the basis of justification because it was never the foundation of God’s covenant promises to begin with. Rather, Paul argues that the law was temporary, added “because of transgressions” until the coming of Christ (3.19). This is why Paul consistently contrasts promise and law, Spirit and flesh, faith and works throughout the letter. These are not complementary paths to justification, but fundamentally different principles. The law demands obedience and pronounces a curse upon those who fail to keep it perfectly, whereas faith receives the promise of God fulfilled in Christ. This is why Paul reacts so strongly to the Galatian error. The law does not complete what faith begins—it belongs to a different order altogether. To return to the law as the ground of justification is not spiritual maturity; it is, in Paul’s view, a departure from the very logic of the gospel itself.

This is perhaps why Paul speaks with such force in the opening of the Epistle to the Galatians. In 1:9, he writes, “As we have said before, I now say again: If anyone is preaching to you a gospel contrary to what you received, a curse be on him!” For Paul, this is not rhetorical exaggeration or emotional overstatement; it is covenantal seriousness. The gospel is not infinitely flexible or open to revision. It is the announcement of what God has accomplished in Christ for the salvation of sinners, and therefore to alter the basis of justification is to alter the gospel itself. This is precisely why Paul reacts so strongly to the teaching of the Judaizers. In his view, adding obedience to the law as a condition of justification does not merely supplement the gospel—it fundamentally changes its character. The issue is not whether circumcision or obedience have value in themselves; the issue is whether they contribute to a person’s right standing before God. Once works are introduced as part of the ground of justification, faith in Christ alone is no longer sufficient. And for Paul, that is not a small theological mistake, but a corruption of the gospel itself.

At this point, it is worth bringing Paul’s argument into conversation with the Roman Catholic understanding of justification, especially as articulated at the Council of Trent. To be clear, the Roman Catholic position is not identical to the error confronted in Galatia. The Judaizers were specifically requiring circumcision and Torah observance for covenant inclusion, whereas Roman Catholic theology affirms the necessity of grace and the centrality of Christ’s work. Nevertheless, there are important structural similarities that raise serious theological concerns. According to Trent, justification is not merely the forgiveness of sins, but also “the sanctification and renewal of the inward man” (Session 6, Chapter 7). Likewise, Trent teaches that the justified “through the observance of the commandments of God and of the Church, faith cooperating with good works, increase in that justice received through the grace of Christ” (Session 6, Chapter 10). In other words, justification in Roman Catholic theology includes transformative righteousness and can increase through obedience. But this is precisely where the tension with Galatians emerges. Paul consistently treats justification as a forensic declaration received through faith apart from works of the law. The question, then, is unavoidable: if justification is maintained or increased through works, even grace-enabled works, does this not reintroduce the very dynamic Paul rejects? Put differently, does the Roman Catholic system preserve the sufficiency of faith in Christ alone, or does it ultimately ground final justification, at least in part, in human obedience? At the very least, Trent’s understanding of justification is horribly confused and differs significantly from Paul’s argument in Galatians.

Now, in the interest of completeness, it is equally important to consider how the message of the Epistle to the Galatians might speak to those of us on the Protestant side of the aisle as well. As I noted in my original review, Protestants often have a tendency to underemphasize the importance—indeed, even the necessity—of good works in the Christian life. In some circles, the gospel is reduced to little more than a kind of “get out of hell free” card: simply believe in Jesus and secure your eternal destiny. But this reductionistic understanding of salvation severely minimizes the transforming power of grace and the necessity of Spirit-empowered obedience. Paul himself never makes this mistake. While he fiercely rejects works as the basis of justification, he equally insists that genuine faith necessarily produces obedience. This is why he can say in Galatians 5.6 that “what matters is faith working through love.” For Paul, obedience is not opposed to faith; rather, obedience is the fruit of true faith. The problem, then, is not works in themselves, but works placed in the wrong category. Works cannot justify the sinner before God, but they are the inevitable result of union with Christ and the indwelling work of the Spirit. Grace does not merely forgive; it transforms.

In theological categories, this process is known as sanctification, that is, the lifelong work of growing in conformity to the character of Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit. In the language of the Epistle to the Galatians, this is described as “walking by the Spirit” and cultivating the “fruit of the Spirit,” namely “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (5.22–23). The point is that while sanctification is logically distinct from justification, it is not altogether separate from it. The faith that justifies is never barren or inactive. We are justified by faith alone, but the person who is truly justified by faith will necessarily grow in holiness and produce the good works of Christlike character. This is why Paul can reject works as the basis of justification while simultaneously insisting upon obedience as the necessary fruit of life in the Spirit. Indeed, this is essentially the same point made by the Epistle of James in its discussion of faith and works, a point Paul himself would affirm wholeheartedly. Works do not secure our standing before God; rather, they demonstrate that our faith is living and genuine. Grace not only pardons the sinner, it transforms him.

What emerges from Galatians, then, is a clear theological order that must not be confused or reversed. First comes faith, and through faith comes justification, that once-for-all declaration in which the sinner is counted righteous before God on the basis of Christ alone. Then comes the gift of the Spirit, through whom the believer is progressively transformed into the image of Christ. Finally, obedience follows as the fruit of this new life in the Spirit. In other words, the imperatives of the Christian life flow out of the indicatives of the gospel. We obey because we have been accepted in Christ, not in order to be accepted by him. This is precisely why Paul can simultaneously reject justification by works while insisting upon the necessity of holiness. The Christian life is not opposed to obedience; it is grounded in grace-enabled obedience that flows from faith. But the order matters immensely. To place works before justification, or to make obedience part of the ground of our acceptance before God, is to reverse Paul’s entire theological structure and, in doing so, distort the very nature of the gospel itself.

In conclusion, then, we must affirm that the question of justification as it relates to faith and works is a foundational question when it comes to the clarity of the gospel itself. As Paul warns in the Epistle to the Galatians, to distort the gospel is to come under the curse of God. And while I do not think that the Roman Catholic Church falls under this curse in a simplistic or one-to-one sense, I do believe that the formulations of the Council of Trent are deeply confused on the question of justification and, in important ways, structurally parallel the very concerns Paul raises in Galatians. At the same time, Protestants must also resist the temptation to reduce the gospel to mere intellectual assent divorced from holiness and obedience. Paul rejects both legalism and moral indifference. The gospel he proclaims is one in which sinners are justified by faith alone and then transformed by the power of the Spirit into lives of joyful obedience. Faithful theology, then, requires more than loyalty to tradition or theological systems. It requires that we let Paul define the gospel on his own terms—and then have the courage to examine our systems in light of that definition.


On Training in Godliness

TEXT

If you point these things out to the brothers and sisters, you will be a good servant of Christ Jesus, nourished by the words of the faith and the good teaching that you have followed. But have nothing to do with pointless and silly myths. Rather, train yourself in godliness. For the training of the body has limited benefit, but godliness is beneficial in every way, since it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come. This saying is trustworthy and deserves full acceptance. 10 For this reason we labor and strive, because we have put our hope in the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe.

~1 Timothy 3.14-16

Title: On Our Training for Godliness
Text: 1 Timothy 4.6-10
Series: 1 Timothy: God’s Design for a Healthy Church
Church: Redeemer Baptist Church, Jonesboro, AR
Date: October 19, 2025


On Our Conduct as Members of the Local Church

TEXT

14 I write these things to you, hoping to come to you soon. 15 But if I should be delayed, I have written so that you will know how people ought to conduct themselves in God’s household, which is the church of the living God, the pillar and foundation of the truth. 16 And most certainly, the mystery of godliness is great:

He was manifested in the flesh,
vindicated in the Spirit,
seen by angels,
preached among the nations,
believed on in the world,
taken up in glory.

~1 Timothy 3.14-16

Title: On Our Conduct in the Local Church
Text: 1 Timothy 3.14-16
Series: 1 Timothy: God’s Design for a Healthy Church
Church: Redeemer Baptist Church, Jonesboro, AR
Date: October 5, 2025


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)


On Love as Both Affection and Action

Thirty-some years ago, the Christian band D.C. Talk released a song entitled “Luv is a verb”; it was a song that resonated with the biblical truth that love is more than simply a feeling. Genuine love, true biblical love is demonstrated through acts of giving and service, putting the needs of others before our own, and seeking their good as a matter of first priority. As we read in Romans 5.8, “But God proves his own love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Or again, in 1 John 4.10, “Love consists in this: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins.” Or even in the most memorable of verses, in John 3.16, “For God loved the world in this way: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.” The love of God toward sinners is the exemplar par excellence of true love. He loves, and so he gave. He acted for the good of those he loved, even when they didn’t love him. It is a love that is unconditional and undeserved, and it is a love that acts. Love, true biblical love, is indeed a actoin. It is a verb.

Of course, this understanding of love stands in stark contradiction to the sentiments of popular culture. For many, love is a feeling. It is something that is primarily felt in the warm fuzzies of attraction and desire. It is sensual, passionate, and oftentimes fleeting. People fall out of love just as easily and as quickly as the fall into love. The feelings of love ebb and flow like the tides of the ocean, and the more the feelings of love wane in a relationship, the more desperately we chase them. “Follow you’re heart”, we are told, but the scriptures remind us that our hearts are deceitful and wicked (Jeremiah 17.9). Christians rightly react to the idea that love is no more than an emotion. Love is commitment, love is service, love is a choice. Love is something we are called to give even if it is not returned in kind. We are called to love each other, even to love our enemies.

However, I think that this contrast sets up a false dichotomy. It is true that love is more than a mere emotion, but it is certainly not less than that. Emotions are good; they are God-given capacities, part of what it means to be made in the image of God. Even God has emotions, though His are perfect and completely without sin or selfishness. He is compassionate, merciful, gracious, and loving. “God is love” (1 John 4.8). Our emotions are a good and essential part of what makes us human, but as with our other capacities, they are fallen, corrupted by the sin. But they should not be rejected as if they are sinful in and of themselves, or somehow illegitimate partners in our sanctification. Just like our other human capacities, they need to be redeemed, reordered, transformed by the Spirit. This is why one of the fruit of the Spirit is, among others, love.

Therefore, I would submit that true biblical love is both action and affection; it is both something that we do and something that we feel. Of course, the question must be raised regarding what to do when we just aren’t feeling. Are we still required to love when the affections aren’t there. I would suggest yes, because, contrary to cultural sentiments, our emotions are not to be our guiding principle. We submit our emotions to the Word of God, to the work of the Spirit, such that they begin to follow our volition. So, yes, we are called to love others through acts of self-giving service and sacrifice, but we are also called to like others, as well. This, too, is part of the biblical command to love.

But how would this relate to a command like we find in Matthew 5.44, where we read, “But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” In this case, I think we have to be reminded that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this darkness, against evil, spiritual forces in the heavens.” (Ephesians 6.12). Our “enemies” are human beings made in the image of God who are enslaved and corrupted by sin, and but by the grace of God, there go we. So, we can have compassion and empathy for those who oppose us. We don’t have to agree with them or condone their actions; we don’t have to lower our defenses and pretend like no separation exists between us. But we cannot hate them outright; we cannot wish for their pain and destruction all the while trying to love them through acts of service and sacrifice. We must have some level of compassion and empathy, even for those who we consider “enemies”, because they too are made in the image of God. They have dignity, value, and worth, and we must loving actions toward them must be grounded in compassion rather than anger and animosity.

The point here is that feelings follow actions. If we set ourselves to love others through acts of service, I think we will be amazed at the affections that will well up for them in our hearts. No, biblical love is not some dry, emotionless, unfeeling command that we are called to obey. We are called to obey, but to do so holistically, with our whole selves. As Jesus reminds us, the greatest commandments are these, to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” and to “love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 22.37-40) When we do this, we will find ourselves become more and more like the one who is love in himself. So, “Dear friends, let us love one another, because love is from God, and everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. The one who does not love does not know God, because God is love.” (1 John 4.7-8)

For further study, see:
On Love as the Heart of Christmas


On Psalm 119.97-104 (Mem)

97 How I love your instruction!
It is my meditation all day long.
98 Your command makes me wiser than my enemies,
for it is always with me.
99 I have more insight than all my teachers
because your decrees are my meditation.
100 I understand more than the elders
because I obey your precepts.
101 I have kept my feet from every evil path
to follow your word.
102 I have not turned from your judgments,
for you yourself have instructed me.
103 How sweet your word is to my taste—
sweeter than honey in my mouth.
104 I gain understanding from your precepts;
therefore I hate every false way.

The question of the Law and its relevance for New Testament believers is a question that has boggled the minds of Christians ever since the first disciples. As New Covenent believers, we understand that Christ has fulfilled the Law, and this in every way. No part of the Law has been left unfulfilled by Christ. Paul even says that the Law has been “abolished” in the work of Christ (Eph 2.15). And yet, we also understand that the Law, as part of the Old Testament Scriptures, is profitable and valuable for “training in righteousness.” (2 Tim 3.16) Genuine believers love the Word of God, and they yearn to be transformed by its truths. The Law, however, appears to be so difficult, so out of touch, so unrelated to life in Christ, we naturally wonder what transformative relevance it might still have.

More than that, we are well aware of what the New Testament says about the Law, particularly in the Pauline Epistles. For example, we understand that “the letter [of the Law] kills, but the Spirit gives life” (2 Cor 3.6), and that “[we] are not under the law but under grace.” (Rom 6.14) We all stand condemned by the law, for “it is clear that no one is justified before God by the law.” (Gal 3.11) We have been taught that the purpose of the Law is to expose our failures to live up the righteous standards of God, to convicts us of our sin, and to reveal our need for a savior. In other words, if the Law has a role in the faith of New Testament believers, then it is largely negative, convicting, and condemning.

But this does not seem to be the attitude of our psalmist here in Psalm 119; he views the law positively and with deep adoration and affection. In this stanza, he writes “How I love your instruction” (verse 97), and “How sweet your word is to my taste—sweeter than honey in my mouth.” (verse 103) Of course, we could simply conclude that this psalmist is writing before the advent of Christ, and so perhaps his words are no longer relevant for how we should relate to the Old Testament Law. For Old Testament believers, the Law was the basis for their covenant relationship with God. It was the gift of God’s grace to make them His people and enter into a covenant with them. Clearly, we have something greater. We are under the Law of Christ. (1 Cor 9:21)

But I believe this perspective would fail to do justice to the words of our psalmist. Believers in both the Old and the New Testament are united by the principle of faith; they are a part of us. So, the attitude of our psalmist throughout Psalm 119, but especially here in the mem (מ, pronounced maym) stanza, is particularly instructive for us. We too should learn to love God’s Law, to meditate upon it all day long. We should find in it words of wisdom and life and understanding about the ways of right and wrong as they are determined by the one who gave it. We should read Old Testament books like Leviticus and Deuteronomy, and let them be like sweet honey in the mouths of our soul, because they reveal the one whom our soul loves.

The bottom line is this, that the Old Testament, especially the Law, is good and valuable and profitable and transformative for God’s people of all times. It does not merely convict us and condemn us and reveal to us that we deserve hell and need salvation; it also reveals the character, the virtues, and perfections of the one who is true and pure and holy. We must learn to appreciate these positive aspects of the Law’s role in our lives as Christians, because if we do not, we cut ourselves off from the sustaining and nourishing benefits that come through its pages. No, we are not bound under the covenant mediating authority of the Law; it is not the basis of our relationship with God in Christ by the Spirit. But it is part of God’s revelation of himself, and as such, it continues to have value and relevance for those of who are in Christ, much as the writer of Psalm 119 affirms.

For further study:
Introduction
Psalm 119.1-8
Psalm 119.9-16
Psalm 119.17-24
Psalm 119.25-32
Psalm 119.33-40
Psalm 119.41-48
Psalm 119.49-56
Psalm 119.57-64
Psalm 119.65-72
Psalm 119.73-80
Psalm 119.81-88
Psalm 119.89-96


On Sanctification and the Christian Life

TEXT

1. Those who are united to Christ and effectually called and regenerated have a new heart and a new spirit created in them through the power of Christ’s death and resurrection. They are also further sanctified, really and personally, through the same power, by his Word and Spirit dwelling in them. The dominion of the whole body of sin is destroyed, and the various evil desires that arise from it are more and more weakened and put to death.  At the same time, those called and regenerated are more and more enlivened and strengthened in all saving graces so that they practice true holiness, without which no one will see the Lord.

2. This sanctification extends throughout the whole person, though it is never completed in this life. Some corruption remains in every part.  From this arises a continual and irreconcilable war, with the desires of the flesh against the Spirit and the Spirit against the flesh.

3. In this war, the remaining corruption may greatly prevail for a time.  Yet through the continual supply of strength from the sanctifying Spirit of Christ, the regenerate part overcomes.  So the saints grow in grace, perfecting holiness in the fear of God. They pursue a heavenly life, in gospel obedience to all the commands that Christ as Head and King has given them in his Word.

Series: The 1689 Baptist Confession of Faith
Church: Redeemer Baptist Church, Jonesboro, AR
Date: February 28, 2024


Slow To Write

"let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger."

lovegavehope

Just another WordPress.com site

Jared Cornutt

Pastor | Speaker | Writer

Denny Burk

A commentary on theology, politics, and culture

G3 Ministries

Events + Resources for the Local Church

Biblical Reasoning

Biblical and Systematic Theology According to the Scriptures

RetroChristianity

Reclaiming the Forgotten Faith

SBC Voices

Southern Baptist News & Opinion

Lucid Theology

Thoughts on words, books, theology, and life.

Baptist21

A pastor-led voice for Baptists in the 21st century

Center For Baptist Renewal

The Personal and Professional Blog of Phillip Powers

The Pastor's Well - Pastor Well

The Personal and Professional Blog of Phillip Powers

Articles - AlbertMohler.com

The Personal and Professional Blog of Phillip Powers

The Gospel Coalition

The Personal and Professional Blog of Phillip Powers