CHAPTER SIX: Of Justification by Faith and by the Merits of Works (part 1 of 4)
CHAPTER SIX
Of Justification by Faith and the Merits of Works
It seems to me that I have already explained with sufficient care how only one refuge of salvation remains for men—namely, faith—since they are all condemned by the Law. I also believe that I have sufficiently treated what faith is, what graces of God it communicates to man, and what fruits it produces in him. The substance of what has been said is this: by faith we receive and possess Jesus Christ as he is presented to us by the goodness of God; and by participating in him, we receive a twofold grace. The first is that, being reconciled to God through his innocence, instead of having a judge in heaven to condemn us, we have a most merciful Father. The second is that we are sanctified by his Spirit, so that we may pursue holiness and innocence of life.
Concerning regeneration, which is the second grace, I have said as much as seemed expedient. Justification was treated more briefly, because it was first necessary to understand that faith is neither idle nor barren of good works, although by it we obtain free righteousness through the mercy of God. It was also necessary to understand the nature of the good works of the saints, upon which part of the question now before us depends.
We must therefore consider justification by faith more fully. And in doing so, we must remember that this is the principal article of the Christian religion, so that everyone may devote greater care and diligence to reaching a settled understanding of it. For just as we have no foundation upon which to establish our salvation unless we know God’s will toward us, so we have no foundation upon which to build a life of godliness and the fear of God. Yet the necessity of rightly understanding this subject will become clearer as the doctrine itself is explained.
Therefore, lest we stumble at the very first step—as would happen if we began debating a matter whose meaning had not been established —we must first explain what is meant by the expressions to be justified before God and to be justified by faith or by works.
A person is said to be justified before God when he is accounted righteous before God’s judgment and is accepted on account of his righteousness. For as iniquity is abominable to God, so a sinner cannot find favor before his face. Wherever sin is found, therefore, there the wrath and vengeance of God are revealed. Thus, the person who is justified is not regarded as a sinner but as righteous, and for that reason he is able to stand before God’s judgment seat, where all sinners stumble and are confounded.
If a man falsely accused is examined by a judge, acquitted, and declared innocent, we say that he has been justified in court. In the same way, we say that a man is justified before God when, being separated from the number of sinners, he has God as the witness and approver of his righteousness.
Accordingly, we shall say that a man is justified before God by his works when his life possesses such purity and holiness that it deserves the title of righteousness before God, or when, by the integrity of his works, he is able to answer and satisfy the judgment of God. By contrast, a man is said to be justified by faith when, being excluded from the righteousness of works, he apprehends by faith the righteousness of Jesus Christ, and, clothed with that righteousness, appears before the face of God not as a sinner, but as righteous.
Nevertheless, because most men imagine a righteousness compounded of faith and works, before proceeding further we must also show that the righteousness of faith differs so completely from the righteousness of works that, if the one is established, the other is overthrown. The Apostle says:
“I have counted all things as dung, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having my own righteousness, which is of the Law, but that which is through faith in Jesus Christ—the righteousness which is from God by faith.”
Here we see that he contrasts them as opposing things and shows that whoever wishes to obtain the righteousness of Christ must abandon his own. Therefore, he says elsewhere that this was the cause of the ruin of the Jews:
“Seeking to establish their own righteousness, they did not submit to the righteousness of God.”
If, by establishing our own righteousness, we reject the righteousness of God, then to obtain the latter the former must be entirely abolished. This is also what he means when he says that our boasting is excluded, not by the Law, but by faith. From this it follows that so long as the least drop of righteousness remains to us in our works, we retain some ground for boasting. Therefore, if faith excludes all boasting, the righteousness of faith cannot in any way coexist with the righteousness of works.
It was the theologians of the Sorbonne who filled the world with this false opinion, which is commonly held; but they err in two ways. First, they call faith a certainty of expecting a reward from God. Second, by the word grace they do not mean the gift of free righteousness that we receive, but the aid of the Holy Spirit for living well and holily. They read in the Apostle:
“He who comes to God must believe that he is a rewarder of those who seek him.”
But they do not consider the manner in which he is to be sought, which we shall soon explain.
That they are mistaken concerning the word grace is evident from their books. For their Master of the Sentences explains the righteousness that we have through Christ in two ways. First, he says that the death of Christ justifies us when it produces love in our hearts, by which we are made righteous. Second, it justifies us insofar as sin is extinguished through it—sin under whose power the devil held us captive—so that he can no longer overcome us.
We see that he considers the grace of God only insofar as we are directed to good works by the power of the Holy Spirit. He intended to follow the opinion of Saint Augustine, but he follows it from a great distance and even strays far from a faithful imitation. For what that holy man expressed clearly, he obscures; and what was only slightly blemished in him, he corrupts entirely. The schools of the Sorbonne have continually gone from bad to worse, until at last they have fallen into the error of Pelagius.
Yet even Saint Augustine’s position ought not to be accepted without qualification. For although he very properly strips man of all praise for righteousness and attributes it entirely to God, he nevertheless refers grace to the sanctification by which we are regenerated to newness of life. But when Scripture speaks of the righteousness of faith, it leads us elsewhere: it teaches us to turn our eyes away from our works and to look only to the mercy of God and the perfect holiness of Christ.
For Scripture sets before us this order of justification: at the outset, God receives the sinner out of his own pure and free goodness, seeing nothing in him that might move him to mercy except his misery, since he beholds him entirely destitute and empty of good works. He therefore takes from himself alone the reason for doing him good. He then touches the sinner with a sense of his goodness, so that, distrusting everything he possesses, he may rest the whole of his salvation upon the mercy God shows him.
This is the conviction of faith by which a man enters into possession of his salvation: through the doctrine of the Gospel, he knows that he has been reconciled to God because, having obtained forgiveness of his sins through the righteousness of Christ, he is justified. And although he is regenerated by the Spirit of God, he does not rest upon the good works he performs, but is assured that his perpetual righteousness consists in the righteousness of Christ.
When all these things have been examined individually, our doctrine concerning this subject will be easily explained. They may be better arranged if we treat them in a different order from that in which we have proposed them; but this matters little, provided they are set forth in such a way that the whole subject is rightly understood.
Here we must remember the correspondence that we established above between faith and the Gospel. For we say that faith justifies because it receives the righteousness offered in the Gospel. Now, if righteousness is offered to us in the Gospel, all consideration of works is thereby excluded. Saint Paul shows this frequently, but especially in two passages. In the Epistle to the Romans, comparing the Law with the Gospel, he says:
“The righteousness which is of the Law is that whoever does the commandments of God shall live by them. But the righteousness of faith proclaims salvation to the one who believes in his heart and confesses with his mouth Jesus Christ, and that the Father has raised him from the dead.”
—Romans 10:5, 9–10
Do we not see that he establishes this difference between the Law and the Gospel: the Law assigns righteousness to works, whereas the Gospel gives it freely, without regard to works? This is certainly a notable passage, capable of delivering us from many difficulties. For it is no small matter to understand that the righteousness given to us in the Gospel is free from the conditions of the Law.
This is why he so often contrasts the Law and the promise as opposing things:
“If the inheritance comes by the Law, it no longer comes by the promise.”
There are other similar statements in the same chapter. It is certain that the Law also has its promises. Therefore, the promises of the Gospel must possess something distinctive and different, unless we wish to say that the comparison is meaningless. And what can this difference be except that the Gospel promises are free and rest solely upon the mercy of God, whereas the promises of the Law depend upon the condition of works?
The second passage is this:
“That no one is justified before God by the Law is evident, for the righteous shall live by faith. But the Law is not of faith, for it says: The one who does the things commanded shall live by them.”
How could this argument stand unless it were first established that works are not taken into account? The Law, he says, differs from faith. In what respect? He adds that it is because the Law requires works in order to justify a man. It follows, therefore, that works are not required when a man is to be justified by faith. From this contrast it is evident that whoever is justified by faith is justified without any merit from his works—indeed, entirely apart from all merit.
For faith receives the righteousness presented by the Gospel; and the Gospel is said to differ from the Law in this respect: it does not bind righteousness to works, but places it solely in the mercy of God. Saint Paul uses a similar argument in the Epistle to the Romans when he says that Abraham has no ground for boasting, since faith was imputed to him for righteousness. He immediately adds the reason: the righteousness of faith has its place where there are no works to which any reward is due.
“To the one who works, the reward is not credited as a gift, but as something owed. But to the one who does not work, but believes in him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is credited as righteousness.”
What follows tends toward the same end: we obtain the heavenly inheritance by faith so that we may understand that it comes to us by grace. He concludes that the heavenly inheritance is free because we receive it by faith. Why is this, except that faith, having no support in works, rests entirely upon the mercy of God?
The readers may now judge how fairly the Sophists act when they cavil at our doctrine that man is justified by faith alone. They dare not deny that man is justified by faith; but because the word alone is not expressly stated, they reproach us for adding it ourselves. If that is so, how will they answer Saint Paul’s words, where he argues that righteousness cannot be by faith unless it is free? How can that which is free agree with works? And by what slander will they escape his statement elsewhere that the righteousness of God is revealed in the Gospel? If it is revealed there, it is not revealed by halves or in part, but fully and perfectly. It follows, therefore, that the Law is excluded from it.
Indeed, their evasion is not merely false but utterly ridiculous when they say that we add something of our own by speaking of faith alone. For does not the one who removes from works all power to justify attribute that power entirely to faith? What else do these expressions of Saint Paul mean—that righteousness is given to us apart from the Law, and that man is freely justified without the aid of his works?
They have a very subtle escape here: they say that ceremonial works are excluded, but not moral works. This is utterly foolish, though they derive it from Origen and certain other ancient writers. They profit so greatly from their endless barking in the schools that they do not even know the first rudiments of logic. Do they imagine that the Apostle is out of his senses when he brings forward these testimonies to establish his teaching?
“The one who does these things shall live by them.”
And again:
“Cursed is everyone who does not continue in all the things written here.”
Unless they are altogether mad, they will not say that eternal life is promised to those who observe the ceremonies, or that only those who transgress the ceremonies are cursed. If these passages must be understood of the moral Law, there can be no doubt that moral works are excluded from the power to justify.
The arguments Saint Paul employs tend toward the same conclusion. For example:
“If the knowledge of sin comes through the Law, righteousness does not come through it.”
The Law produces the wrath of God; therefore, it does not bring us salvation. Since the Law cannot give assurance to consciences, it cannot give righteousness. And since faith is imputed for righteousness, righteousness is not given to us as the wages of works, but as the free gift of God.
Again, if we are justified by faith, all boasting is cast down. Again:
“If the Law could give life, righteousness would indeed come through the Law. But God has shut up all things under sin, so that the promised salvation might be given to those who believe.”
Let them dare to allege that this is said of ceremonies and not of moral works; even little children would mock their impudence. Let this therefore remain settled: when the power to justify is taken away from the Law, the whole Law must be understood.
If anyone wonders why the Apostle chose to add the words of the Law, rather than speaking simply of works, we have the answer at hand. For works derive their worth, not so much from their own dignity as from their being approved by God. Who would dare to boast of any righteousness before God unless it were accepted by him? And who would dare to demand any reward from him unless he had promised it? It is therefore owing to God’s generosity that works are honored with the title of righteousness and receive a reward, if indeed they can in any way be worthy of either. The whole value of works rests upon this: through them man seeks to render obedience to God.
Therefore, when the Apostle seeks elsewhere to prove that Abraham could not be justified by his works, he argues that the Law was published about four hundred years after the covenant of grace had been given to him. The ignorant might laugh at this argument, thinking that good works could certainly have existed before the Law was published. But because Saint Paul knew well that works possess no dignity except insofar as they are accepted by God, he takes it as evident that they could not justify before the promises of the Law had been given.
We thus see why, when he intends to deprive works of the power to justify, he expressly speaks of works of the Law: namely, because only works authorized by the Law could even come into question. Yet he sometimes excludes all works simply and without qualification. For example, he says that David declares the blessedness of the man to whom God imputes righteousness apart from works. By all their cavils, therefore, they cannot prevent us from understanding this exclusion in its full and universal sense.
It is also in vain that they seek another subtle evasion, saying that we are justified by faith alone, but by a faith that works through love, intending thereby to signify that righteousness rests upon love. We readily confess with Saint Paul that no faith justifies except that which is joined with love. Yet faith does not derive its power to justify from love. Indeed, it justifies for no other reason than that it brings us into participation in the righteousness of Christ.
Otherwise, the Apostle’s argument, which he presses so forcefully, would be overthrown:
“To the one who works, the reward is not credited according to grace, but according to debt. But to the one who does not work, but believes in him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is credited as righteousness.”
Could he have spoken more clearly? He declares that there is no righteousness of faith except where there are no works to which any reward is due, and that faith is imputed as righteousness only when righteousness is given to us by unmerited grace.
Let us now consider whether what was stated in our definition is true: that the righteousness of faith is nothing other than reconciliation with God, which consists in the forgiveness of sins. We must always return to this principle: the wrath of God is prepared for all who persist in being sinners. Isaiah expressed this well when he said:
“The hand of God is not shortened, that he cannot save us; nor is his ear stopped, that he cannot hear us. But our iniquities have made a separation between him and us, and our sins have turned his face away from us, so that he will not hear us.”
We hear that sin creates a division between God and man and turns the face of God away from the sinner. Indeed, it cannot be otherwise, for it is wholly incompatible with his righteousness to have fellowship with sin. For this reason, Saint Paul says that man is an enemy of God until he is restored to his favor through Christ. Therefore, the one whom God receives into his love is said to be justified, because God cannot receive anyone into fellowship with himself without making him righteous who was formerly a sinner.
We add that this is accomplished through the forgiveness of sins. For if those reconciled to God are considered according to their works, they will still be found to be sinners; yet they must be altogether pure and free from sin.
It is therefore evident that those whom God receives into favor are made righteous in no other way than by being purified, insofar as their stains are blotted out by the forgiveness God grants them. Thus, such righteousness may be called in a single word the forgiveness of sins.
Both points are very clearly declared in these words of Saint Paul:
“God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, not imputing their trespasses to men, and has committed to us the word of reconciliation.”
He then adds the substance of his embassy:
“He who was pure and free from sin was made sin for us”—that is, the sacrifice upon which all our sins were transferred—“so that in him we might be righteous before God.”
In this passage he uses righteousness and reconciliation interchangeably, so that we understand the one to be contained within the other. The manner of obtaining this righteousness is also explained when he says that it consists in God’s not imputing our sins to us.
Likewise, in the Epistle to the Romans, he proves by the testimony of David that righteousness is imputed to man apart from works:
“Blessed are those whose iniquities are forgiven, whose sins are covered, and to whom the Lord does not impute their faults.”
There is no doubt that David signifies righteousness by the word blessedness. Since he affirms that it consists in the forgiveness of sins, there is no need for us to define it otherwise. Therefore, Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, places the knowledge of salvation in the forgiveness of sins. Following the same rule, Saint Paul concludes his sermon to the Antiochians concerning the substance of their salvation in this manner:
“Through Jesus Christ the forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you, and from all the things from which you could not be justified by the Law of Moses, everyone who believes in him is justified.”
He so closely joins righteousness with the forgiveness of sins that he shows them to be the same thing. He therefore rightly argues throughout that the righteousness we obtain by the goodness of God is free.
From this it also follows that we are justified before God solely by the righteousness of Christ. This is equivalent to saying that man is not righteous in himself, but because the righteousness of Christ is communicated to him by imputation. This is a matter worthy of careful attention. For it causes the notion to vanish that man is justified by faith insofar as through faith he receives the Spirit of God, by whom he is made righteous.
That notion is entirely contrary to the doctrine established above, for there is no doubt that the man who must seek righteousness outside himself is destitute of righteousness of his own. The Apostle clearly shows this when he says:
“He who was innocent bore our transgressions, being presented as a sacrifice for us, so that in him we might be righteous before God.”
We see that he places our righteousness in Christ, not in us, and that this righteousness belongs to us by no other right than that we are partakers of Christ. For in possessing him, we possess with him all his riches.
Nor does anything oppose this in what he says elsewhere:
“Sin was condemned in the flesh of Christ, so that the righteousness of God might be fulfilled in us.”
Here he signifies no other fulfillment than that which we obtain by imputation. For the Lord Jesus communicates his righteousness to us in such a manner that, by an ineffable power, it is transferred to us insofar as the judgment of God is concerned.
That he intended nothing else is evident from the statement he had made shortly before:
“As by the disobedience of one we were constituted sinners, so by the obedience of one we are justified.”
What else is it to place our righteousness in the obedience of Christ but to affirm that we are righteous because Christ’s obedience is reckoned to us and accepted as payment, as though it were our own?
Therefore, it seems to me that Saint Ambrose found an excellent illustration of this righteousness in the blessing of Jacob. Jacob had not merited the birthright in himself, but, concealed under the person of his brother and clothed in his garment, which gave off a pleasing fragrance, he gained access to his father and received the blessing in the person of another. In the same way, we must be hidden beneath the garment of Christ, our firstborn brother, in order to receive the testimony of righteousness before the face of our heavenly Father.
This is certainly the pure truth. For to appear safely before God, we must bear the sweetness of Christ’s fragrance, and our faults must be buried beneath his perfection.
Although clear testimonies show all these things to be entirely true, their necessity cannot be properly perceived until we have set plainly before our eyes what must serve as the foundation of this whole dispute.
First, let us remember that we are not discussing how a man may appear righteous before the tribunal of some earthly judge, but before the heavenly throne of God. We must not, therefore, measure by our own standard the integrity required to satisfy the judgment of God. Yet it is astonishing with what rashness and presumption men commonly proceed in this matter. Indeed, it is evident that none speak more boldly or boastfully about the righteousness of works than those who are openly wicked or inwardly bursting with vices and sinful desires.
This happens because they give no thought to the righteousness of God. If they possessed even the slightest sense of it, they would never mock it in this manner. Yet it is despised and mocked beyond measure whenever it is not acknowledged to be so perfect that nothing is acceptable to it except what is entirely whole, pure from every stain, and faultless in its perfection. Such righteousness has never been found in any living man, nor will it ever be.
It is easy for anyone to chatter in some corner of a school about the worth that works possess for justifying man. But when we come before the face of God, all such rubbish must be left behind, for there the matter is treated in earnest, not by frivolous disputations. It is there that we must direct our understanding if we wish profitably to inquire into true righteousness. There, I say, we must consider how we shall answer that heavenly Judge when he summons us to give an account.
We must therefore establish him upon his throne—not as our understanding imagines him, but as he is depicted for us in Scripture: he whose brightness obscures the stars; by whose power the mountains melt like snow beneath the sun; at whose wrath the earth is shaken; by whose wisdom the wise are caught in their craftiness; whose purity is so great that, in comparison with it, all things are defiled and polluted; whose righteousness even the angels cannot endure; who does not acquit the wicked; and whose vengeance, once kindled, penetrates to the deepest parts of the earth.
Let him, then, sit in judgment to examine the works of men. Who will dare approach his throne without trembling? The Prophet speaks of him in this manner:
“Who shall dwell with a fire that consumes all things, or with a flame that cannot be extinguished? He who practices righteousness and truth, and who is pure and upright throughout his life.”
Whoever answers this description, let him come forward.
But this answer ensures that no one would dare present himself. For, on the other hand, this dreadful declaration ought to make us tremble:
“If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand?”
Certainly, the whole world would immediately perish. For it is written elsewhere:
“Can man be justified when compared with his God, or be found purer than his Creator? Behold, those who serve him are not faultless, and he finds fault even with his angels.
How much more shall those who dwell in houses of clay and are confined within earthly tabernacles be cast down?”
And again:
“Behold, among his saints there is none who is pure, and the heavens are not clean in his sight. How much more abominable and worthless is man, who drinks iniquity like water?”
It is there, then, that we must direct our eyes, so that we may learn to tremble rather than conceive a vain confidence. For while each of us limits himself to comparisons with other men, it is easy to imagine that we possess something others ought not to despise. But as soon as we raise our eyes to God, this confidence is instantly destroyed and brought to nothing.
Indeed, the same thing happens to our souls before God as happens to our bodies beneath the heavens. So long as a man limits himself to contemplating the things around him, he supposes his sight to be good and strong. But if he raises his eyes toward the sun, he is so dazzled by its brightness that this sight makes him feel the weakness of his vision more acutely than he previously perceived its strength in looking upon lesser things.
Let us not, therefore, deceive ourselves with vain confidence. Even if we are equal or superior to every other man, this is nothing before God, to whom our examination of ourselves must be referred. If our presumption cannot be subdued by such admonitions, he will answer us as he answered the Pharisees:
“You are those who justify yourselves before men, but what is highly esteemed among men is abominable before God.”
Go, then, and boast proudly among men of your righteousness, while God holds it in abomination in heaven.
But what, by contrast, do the servants of God do when they have been truly instructed by his Spirit? They will certainly say with David:
“O Lord, do not enter into judgment with your servant, for no living man shall be justified before your face.”
And with Job:
“How can man be righteous before God? If he wishes to contend with him, though accused on a thousand counts, he cannot answer him concerning even one.”
We now hear clearly what the righteousness of God is: it is a righteousness that no human works can satisfy, and that will accuse us of a thousand crimes without our being able to clear ourselves of even one. Saint Paul, that chosen vessel of God, had rightly conceived this in his heart when he confessed:
“Though I am conscious of nothing against myself, I am not thereby justified.”
For if the stars, which appear very bright and radiant during the night, lose all their light when the sun rises, what do we suppose will happen to the greatest innocence that can be imagined in man when it is compared with the purity of God?
For then there will be an examination of astonishing severity, reaching even the most secret thoughts of the heart. As Saint Paul says, it will reveal everything hidden in darkness and disclose what lies concealed in the depths of the heart, compelling the conscience—however much it resists or recoils—to bring forward even those things it has now forgotten. The devil, moreover, will prosecute as the accuser, pressing the man closely and knowing well how to allege against him every transgression to which he incited him.
There all the splendor and outward appearance of good works, which alone are now esteemed, will profit nothing. Only the sincerity of the heart will be in question. Therefore, all hypocrisy will be confounded and fall—not merely that by which those who secretly know themselves to be wicked disguise themselves before men, but also that by which each man flatters himself before God, since we are inclined to deceive ourselves by thinking too highly of ourselves. Though such hypocrisy is now drunk with pride and presumption, it will then be overthrown.
Those who do not raise their minds and thoughts to this spectacle may soothe themselves for a moment by attributing righteousness to themselves. But that righteousness will immediately be stripped from them at the judgment of God, just as a man who has dreamed of possessing great riches finds himself empty-handed when he awakens.
By contrast, all who seek the true rule of righteousness as though standing before God will certainly find that all the works of men, if judged according to their own worth, are nothing but filth and vileness; that what is commonly judged to be righteousness is sheer iniquity before God; that what is judged integrity is only pollution; and that what is judged glory is only disgrace.
After contemplating this perfection of God, we must then descend to examine ourselves, without flattering or deceiving ourselves through self-love. It is no wonder that we are blind in this matter, since none of us guards against that foolish and dangerous affection of self-love which Scripture shows to be naturally rooted in us. Solomon says:
“Every man’s way is right in his own eyes.”
And again:
“All men think their ways are good.”
But what then? Is each man acquitted because of this error? Quite the contrary, for Solomon immediately adds:
“The Lord weighs the hearts.”
That is, while man flatters himself because of the outward appearance of righteousness he possesses, the Lord weighs in his balance all the iniquity and uncleanness hidden within the heart. Since, therefore, self-flattery profits nothing, let us not willingly deceive ourselves to our own ruin.
To examine ourselves rightly, we must always summon our conscience before the judgment seat of God. For his light is necessary to reveal and uncover the secret places of our perversity, which otherwise remain too deep and dark. If we do this, we shall then understand the meaning of this declaration:
“How far man is from being justified before God, since he is only corruption, a worm, worthless and abominable, who drinks iniquity like water! Who can make pure and clean that which is conceived from unclean seed? Not one.”
We shall also experience what Job said of himself:
“If I seek to show myself innocent, my own mouth will condemn me; if I call myself righteous, it will prove me wicked.”
For the Prophet’s complaint concerning his own time does not belong to one age alone, but applies generally to every generation:
“All have wandered like lost sheep; each one has turned aside to his own way.”
For there he includes all those to whom the grace of redemption must be communicated. The severity of this examination must continue until it has subdued us with dismay at ourselves and thereby prepared us to receive the grace of the Lord. Whoever imagines that he is capable of enjoying that grace without first laying aside all pride of heart greatly deceives himself. This saying is well known:
“God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble.”
But how are we to humble ourselves unless, being altogether empty and poor, we give place to the mercy of God? For I do not call it humility if we imagine that something still remains in us. Indeed, a pernicious hypocrisy has formerly been taught by joining these two things together: that we must think humbly of ourselves before God, while nevertheless retaining some esteem for our own righteousness. For if we confess something before God other than what we think in our hearts, we wickedly lie to him.
We cannot think of ourselves as we ought unless everything that appears excellent in us is entirely trampled underfoot. Therefore, when we hear from the Prophet’s mouth that salvation is prepared for the humble, but ruin for the pride of the arrogant, let us first understand that we have no access to salvation unless we lay aside all pride and embrace true humility.
Second, let us understand that this humility is not a modesty by which we surrender even the smallest part of what is rightfully ours in order to abase ourselves before God. Among men, we call those humble who do not exalt themselves proudly or despise others, though they may believe themselves to possess some worth. But true humility is the unfeigned abasement of our hearts, proceeding from a right sense of our misery and poverty, by which our hearts are brought low. For humility is always described in this manner in the Word of God.
When the Lord speaks through Zephaniah in this manner:
“I will remove from your midst everyone who rejoices proudly, and I will leave only the afflicted and the poor; and they shall hope in God.”
Does he not clearly show who the humble are—namely, those who are afflicted by the knowledge of their poverty? By contrast, he signifies the proud as those who rejoice, because men in prosperity are accustomed to exult. Moreover, he leaves nothing to the humble whom he intends to save except hope in God alone.
Likewise, in Isaiah:
“To whom shall I look, except to the poor man who is broken and afflicted in spirit and trembles at my words?”
And again:
“The Lord, high and exalted, who inhabits his eternal throne and dwells in his majesty, dwells also with those who are humble and afflicted in spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble and the heart of the afflicted.”
When we hear the word affliction repeated so often, we must understand it as a wound by which the heart is so deeply pierced that the whole man is cast to the ground and cannot raise himself up. Our hearts must be wounded by such affliction if we wish to be exalted with the humble. If this does not happen, we shall be humbled by the mighty hand of God to our own confusion.
Moreover, our good Teacher, not content with words, has portrayed for us in a parable, as in a painting, the true image of humility. He sets before us the tax collector, who stood far off and dared not lift his eyes toward heaven, but prayed with deep groanings:
“Lord, be merciful to me, a poor sinner.”
Let us not imagine that his refusal to look toward heaven or draw near, and his striking his breast while confessing himself a sinner, were signs of feigned modesty. They were testimonies of the inward affection of his heart.
On the other hand, Christ sets before us the Pharisee, who thanked God that he was not like other men—a thief, an unjust man, or an adulterer—that he fasted twice a week and gave tithes of all his possessions. He openly confessed that he derived his righteousness from the grace of God. Yet because he trusted himself to be righteous by his works, he returned home abominable before God. By contrast, the tax collector was justified through the acknowledgment of his iniquity.
From this we may see how pleasing our humility is to God: a heart is incapable of receiving God’s mercy unless it is emptied of every opinion of its own worth. Whenever the heart is occupied by such an opinion, the entrance is closed to the grace of God.
To remove all doubt concerning this, the Lord Jesus was sent by his Father into the world with this commission:
“To bring good news to the poor, to heal those afflicted in heart, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to those who are imprisoned, to comfort those who mourn, to give them glory instead of ashes, oil instead of weeping, and a garment of joy instead of sorrow.”
In accordance with this commission, he invites none to receive his kindness except those who are burdened and weary. Therefore, if we wish to answer Christ’s call, all arrogance and presumption must be far removed from us.
By arrogance, I mean the pride arising from a foolish persuasion of righteousness, when a man imagines that he possesses something by which he deserves to be acceptable to God. By presumption, I mean a fleshly security that may exist without any confidence in works. For there are many sinners who, being intoxicated with the sweetness of their vices, give no thought to God’s judgment. As though stupefied, they make no effort to seek the mercy offered to them.
Such carelessness must be driven away no less than all confidence in ourselves must be cast down, if we wish to be free to run to Christ so that he may fill us with his riches. For we shall never trust him rightly unless we utterly distrust ourselves. We shall never rightly raise our hearts to him unless they have first been cast down within us. We shall never receive true consolation from him unless we are utterly bereft in ourselves.
We are therefore prepared to receive and obtain the grace of God when, having laid aside all confidence in ourselves, we rest upon his goodness alone. As Saint Augustine says, forgetting our own merits, we receive the graces of Christ.
Not to linger here too long, let us retain this rule, which is brief but universal and entirely certain: the man who has wholly brought himself to nothing and laid aside—not his righteousness, for he has none, but that shadow of righteousness which deceives us—is rightly prepared to receive the fruits of God’s mercy. For the more a man rests upon himself, the more he obstructs the grace of God.
Here we have two principal matters to consider: that the glory of God should be preserved entire, and that our consciences should possess rest and assurance before his judgment seat.
We see how often and how earnestly Scripture exhorts us to render confession of praise to God whenever righteousness is in question. Indeed, the Apostle testifies that God had this end in view when he bestowed righteousness upon us in Christ: to display his own righteousness. He then adds what this display consists in—namely, that God alone should be acknowledged as righteous and as the one who justifies him who has faith in Jesus Christ.
Do we see, then, that God’s righteousness is not sufficiently glorified unless he alone is accounted righteous and communicates the gift of righteousness to those who have not deserved it? For this reason, he wills that every mouth be stopped and that the whole world be declared indebted to him, because so long as man has anything with which to defend himself, the glory of God is diminished by that much.
Therefore, God shows in Ezekiel how his name is glorified when we acknowledge our iniquity:
“You shall remember your ways and all your transgressions by which you have polluted yourselves, and you shall be displeased with yourselves because of all the sins you have committed. Then you shall know that I am the Lord, when I have shown you mercy for my name’s sake, and not according to your sins and wicked works.”
If true knowledge of God consists in this—that, being cast down and as it were crushed by the knowledge of our own iniquity, we recognize that God does good to us though we are unworthy of it—why do we attempt, to our own great injury, to rob God of even the smallest drop of this praise for his free goodness?
Likewise, when Jeremiah cries:
“Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, nor the rich man in his riches, nor the strong man in his strength; but let him who glories glory in God.”
Does he not thereby signify that some portion of God’s glory perishes if man glories in himself? Certainly, we never glory rightly in God unless we have laid aside our own glory. Indeed, we must hold this as a universal rule: whoever glories in himself glories against God. For Saint Paul says that men are finally subjected to God only when every ground of boasting has been taken away from them.
Therefore, when Isaiah declares that Israel shall have his righteousness in God, he adds that Israel shall also have his praise in him. It is as though he were saying that God’s elect are justified for this very purpose: that they may glory in him and nowhere else. He had taught in the preceding statement how our praise is to be found in God:
“Surely, our righteousness and our strength are in the Lord.”
Let us note that what is required is not a bare confession, but one confirmed by an oath, so that we may not imagine we can discharge our duty by some feigned humility.
Nor should anyone allege that he does not glory when he esteems his own righteousness without arrogance. For such esteem cannot exist without producing confidence, and confidence cannot exist without giving birth to boasting.
Let us therefore remember that in every discussion of righteousness we must always keep this end in view: that all its praise should remain wholly and undiminished with God. For, as the Apostle says, God poured out his grace upon us to demonstrate his righteousness:
“That he might be righteous and the one who justifies him who has faith in Christ.”
Therefore, elsewhere, after saying that God has given us salvation to exalt the glory of his name, he repeats the same teaching:
“You are saved freely, and this is the gift of God, not from your works, so that no one may boast.”
In short, we must conclude that man cannot attribute to himself even a single drop of righteousness without committing sacrilege, since to do so is to diminish and abase the glory of God’s righteousness.
Now, if we ask how the conscience may possess rest and rejoicing before God, we shall find no other way than that he bestow righteousness upon us through his free goodness.
Let us always remember this saying of Solomon:
“Who can say, ‘I have cleansed my heart; I am purified from my sins’?”
Certainly, there is not one person who is not burdened with countless defilements. Let even the most perfect descend into their consciences and bring their works to account. What outcome will they find? Will they be able to rest and possess gladness of heart, as though they had settled their account with God? Will they not rather be torn by dreadful torments, perceiving within themselves every ground of condemnation, if they are judged according to their works?
If the conscience looks toward God, it must either possess peace and agreement with his judgment or be besieged by the terrors of hell. We therefore accomplish nothing by discussing righteousness unless we establish a righteousness so firm that the soul, founded upon it, can stand before the judgment of God. When our souls possess something by which they may appear before God without terror and await and receive his judgment without doubt or fear, then we may believe that we have found a righteousness that is not counterfeit.
It is therefore not without reason that the Apostle presses this argument so earnestly. I prefer to use his words rather than my own:
“If the promise of our inheritance comes through the Law, faith is made void and the promise is abolished.”
He first concludes that faith is emptied and brought to nothing if righteousness takes account of the merits of our works or depends upon observing the Law. For no one could rest securely in it, since no one will ever be found who dares promise himself that he has satisfied the Law; indeed, no one fully satisfies it by his works. We need not seek far for proofs of this, for everyone may serve as his own witness if he is willing to examine himself honestly.
Every man would therefore first be tormented by doubt and then overwhelmed by despair as he considered the immense burden of debt weighing upon him and how far he fell short of the condition imposed upon him. Faith would thus already be oppressed and extinguished. For to waver, fluctuate, be driven up and down, doubt, falter, remain in suspense, and finally despair is not to possess confidence. Confidence means establishing the heart in a constant and settled certainty and possessing a firm support upon which it may rest.
The Apostle adds, secondly, that the promise would be nullified and abolished. For if its fulfillment depended upon our merit, when would we ever reach the point of deserving the grace of God? Indeed, this second point may be deduced from the first, for the promise is fulfilled only in those who receive it by faith. Therefore, if faith falls away, the promise no longer possesses any power.
Accordingly:
“We obtain the inheritance by faith, so that it may rest upon the grace of God and the promise may thereby be made certain.”
For the promise is firmly confirmed when it rests upon the mercy of God alone, since his mercy and truth are joined together by an everlasting bond. That is, whatever the Lord promises us from his goodness, he faithfully performs.
Here, therefore, we must rest and deeply fix all our hope. We must not turn our eyes toward our works to seek any assistance from them. In short, we must conclude as follows: Scripture declares that God’s promises possess no power or effect unless they are received with a settled confidence of heart. On the other hand, it declares that they are rendered vain wherever doubt or uncertainty exists in the heart. It then teaches that we can do nothing but waver and tremble if those promises rest upon our works.
Therefore, either all righteousness must be taken away from works, or works must be entirely excluded from consideration, so that faith alone may have its place. The nature of faith is to close its eyes and open its ears—that is, to fix itself wholly upon the promise of God alone, without regard to any worthiness or merit in man.
Thus this beautiful promise of Zechariah is fulfilled:
“When the iniquity of the land has been blotted out, each man shall invite his neighbor beneath his vine and beneath his fig tree.”
In this passage, the Prophet signifies that believers enjoy no true peace until they have obtained the forgiveness of their sins.
To clarify the matter still further, let us examine what righteousness man may possess throughout the whole course of his life. We must distinguish four classes. A man is either destitute of the knowledge of God and entangled in idolatry; or, having received the Word and the sacraments, he nevertheless lives dissolutely and denies by his works the Lord whom he confesses with his mouth, and thus is a Christian only in title and profession; or he is a hypocrite who conceals his perversity under the appearance of uprightness; or, being regenerated by the Spirit of God, he devotes himself sincerely to pursuing holiness and innocence.
As for the first class, if such men are considered in their natural condition from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot, not a single grain of goodness will be found in them—unless we wish to accuse Scripture of falsehood when it gives all the children of Adam these descriptions: that their hearts are perverse and hardened; that everything they devise from their earliest youth is nothing but wickedness; that all their thoughts are vain; that there is no fear of God before their eyes; that none of them understands and none seeks God; and, in short, that they are flesh.
Under this word flesh are comprehended all the works Saint Paul enumerates:
“Fornication, uncleanness, shamelessness, wantonness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, quarrels, dissensions, sects, envy, murders,”
and everything else that can be imagined as vile and abominable.
Behold the noble dignity in confidence of which they ought to grow proud!
If some among them possess an outward appearance of honesty in their conduct, by which they may acquire a reputation for holiness among men, we must nevertheless remember that God has no regard for outward display. Therefore, if we wish such honesty to possess any value in justifying them, we must come to the fountain and source of their works. We must, I say, examine closely the inward affection from which such works proceed.
Although this subject opens a wide field for discussion, because the matter may be settled in few words, I shall be as brief as possible.
To begin with, I do not deny that all the virtues appearing in the lives of unbelievers and idolaters are gifts of God. Nor am I so removed from ordinary human judgment that I would say there is no difference between the justice, moderation, and equity of Titus and Trajan, who were good Roman emperors, and the rage, intemperance, and cruelty of Caligula, Nero, and Domitian, who reigned like savage beasts; or between the vile sexual immorality of Tiberius and the self-restraint of Vespasian. And, not to examine every vice and virtue individually, there is also a difference between observing the laws and despising them.
There is such a distinction between good and evil that it appears even in this dead image of righteousness. For what order would remain in the world if these things were confused together? Therefore, the Lord has not only impressed upon every heart this distinction between honorable and shameful deeds, but has also frequently confirmed it by his providence. For we see how he grants many blessings of this present life to those who devote themselves to virtue among men.
This does not mean that such a shadow and image of virtue deserves the least of his benefits. Rather, it pleases him to show how greatly he loves true virtue by not leaving even its outward and counterfeit likeness entirely without temporal reward. From this follows what we have just acknowledged: such virtues as they are—or rather, such images of virtues—are gifts proceeding from him, since nothing praiseworthy exists that does not come from him.
Nevertheless, what Saint Augustine writes remains true: all those who are strangers to the religion of the one true God, however greatly they may be admired because of the reputation of their uprightness, are not only unworthy of any reward but rather deserve punishment, because they defile the gifts of God by the pollution of their hearts.
For although they are instruments of God for preserving and sustaining human society through justice, self-restraint, friendship, prudence, temperance, and courage, they nevertheless perform these good works of God very badly. They are restrained from wrongdoing, not by a pure love of honesty or justice, but by ambition, self-love, or some other indirect and perverse consideration.
Since their works are corrupted at their very source by the impurity of the heart, they no more deserve to be numbered among the virtues than do those vices which deceive men because of some resemblance or affinity they bear to virtues. To state the matter briefly: since we know that the one constant end of righteousness and uprightness is that God should be honored, whatever aims elsewhere rightly loses the name of uprightness.
Since such men do not regard the end appointed by the wisdom of God, although their actions may outwardly appear good, they are nevertheless sinful because of their evil purpose. Moreover, if what Saint John says is true—
“He who does not have the Son of God does not have life,”
then all who have no part in Christ, whoever they may be and whatever they may do or endeavor to do, spend the whole course of their lives tending only toward ruin, confusion, and the judgment of eternal death.
Saint Augustine therefore speaks very aptly when he compares the lives of such men to a race run off course. For the more swiftly a man runs while outside the right path, the farther he withdraws from his destination and the more miserable he becomes. He therefore concludes that it is better to limp along the right path than to run swiftly outside it.