A note about these sermons
Charles Spurgeon preached these messages over 150 years ago. His Victorian-era language can make understanding them a challenge. Yet beneath those older words lie truths that still speak powerfully today.
I’ve carefully updated the wording into modern English, removing outdated phrasing so that every reader can clearly understand. I find his sermons much more engaging when modernized – I hope you do as well.
2 March, 1856 : “These are the two covenants.” – Galatians 4:24 : Law vs Grace
The allegories of Sarah and Hagar
There couldn’t be a bigger difference in the world than the one between law and grace. Yet, strangely enough, even though these two things are completely opposite and fundamentally different, the human mind is so corrupted—and even the intellect, when enlightened by the Holy Spirit, can still be so twisted away from sound judgment—that one of the hardest things to do is to clearly distinguish between law and grace.
The person who truly understands this difference and always keeps it in mind—the essential distinction between law and grace—has grasped the very heart of theology. Anyone who can accurately explain the difference between the two is not far from understanding the full message of the Gospel, with all its depths, applications, and implications.
In any field of study, there’s always one part that seems incredibly simple once you finally get it, but at the beginning it feels like a huge stumbling block right at the entrance. That’s exactly what happens when people first try to understand the Gospel. To every Christian—and especially to those who have been taught and enlightened—the difference between law and grace is obvious.
Yet even the most enlightened believers still have a constant pull inside them to mix the two up. Law and grace are as opposite as light and darkness; they can no more mix than fire and water. Still, people keep trying to mash them together—sometimes out of ignorance, sometimes on purpose. They want to blend what God has deliberately kept separate.
This morning we’re going to look at the story of Sarah and Hagar to help you see the huge difference between the covenant of law and the covenant of grace. We won’t cover everything, just the main pictures the passage gives us.
- First, we’ll look at the two women Paul uses as symbols—Hagar and Sarah.
- Second, we’ll look at their two sons—Ishmael and Isaac.
- Third, we’ll see how Ishmael treated Isaac.
- And finally, we’ll notice the very different destinies that awaited each of them.
The two women—Hagar and Sarah.
Paul tells us they represent the two covenants. But before we go further, we need to be clear about what those covenants actually are.
The first covenant, represented by Hagar, is the covenant of works. It says this: “Here is My law, humanity. If you promise to keep it perfectly—every single command, all the time, without ever failing even once—then I promise you will live and be blessed. But understand this: if you break even one commandment, if you disobey in the smallest way, you will be cursed and destroyed forever.”
That is the Hagar covenant—the one thundered from Mount Sinai amid thunder, lightning, fire, and smoke. Actually, it was first given even earlier, in the Garden of Eden, when God warned Adam: “The day you eat from that tree, you will surely die.” As long as Adam stayed perfectly obedient and sinless, he would live. The moment he broke the command, death entered. That is the covenant of law—the Hagar covenant.
The Sarah covenant is the covenant of grace, not made with God and man, but made with God and Christ Jesus, which covenant is this, “Christ Jesus on His part engages to bear the penalty of all His people’s sins, to die, to pay their debts, to take their iniquities upon His shoulders. And the Father promises on His part that all for whom the Son does die shall most assuredly be saved. That seeing they have evil hearts, He will put His law in their hearts, that they shall not depart from it, and that seeing they have sins, He will pass thereby and not remember them any more forever.”
The covenants of works was, “Do this and live, O man!” But the covenant of grace is, “Do this, O Christ and you shall live, O man!” The difference of the covenants rests here. The one was made with man, the other with Christ. The one was a conditional covenant, conditional on Adam’s standing. The other is a conditional covenant with Christ, but as perfectly unconditional with us.
There are no conditions whatever in the covenant of grace, or if there be conditions, the covenant gives them. The covenant gives faith, gives repentance, gives good works, gives salvation, as a purely gratuitous unconditional act. Nor does our continuance in that covenant depend in the least degree on ourselves. The covenant was made by God with Christ, signed, sealed, and ratified, in all things ordered well. Now let’s look at the allegory itself.
First, notice this: Sarah, who represents the new covenant of grace, was Abraham’s original wife. Long before Hagar ever appeared, Sarah was the one he was married to. In the same way, the covenant of grace is the original covenant—the one that came first.
Some misguided teachers claim that God created Adam upright, made a covenant of works with him, and only after Adam sinned did God come up with a “Plan B”—a new covenant with Christ to save His people. That’s completely wrong. The covenant of grace existed before the covenant of works ever did. Before the world was even created, Christ Jesus stood as its head and representative. We were chosen in Him before the foundation of the world; we were loved by God long before we ever fell. God didn’t start loving us because He felt sorry for us after we sinned. He loved His people as His creatures from the very beginning. He allowed us to fall so that He could display the riches of His grace—a grace that was already there before the fall even happened. He didn’t choose us because of our sin or after our sin; He loved and chose us in spite of our sin and long before it.
If you could travel back to eternity and ask which came first, you would discover that grace is older than law. Grace entered the picture long before the law was ever given. The great foundation of grace—the covenant made in eternity past—is even older than the basic moral principles we live by. It was settled long before prophets preached the law, long before Mount Sinai smoked and thundered. Long before Adam walked in the garden, God had already destined His people to eternal life through Jesus.
Here’s another point: although Sarah was the older, original wife, Hagar was the one who gave birth first. In the same way, the first man, Adam, was a “son of Hagar.” Even though he was created perfect and sinless, in the garden he was living under the covenant of works, not the covenant of grace. Hagar bore the first son. Adam lived on this basis: if he committed sin, he would die; if he obeyed perfectly and never touched the forbidden fruit, he would live forever. His entire future rested on his own ability to keep the command perfectly. So Adam, for all his perfection, was really an Ishmael, not an Isaac—at least outwardly. He was under the Hagar covenant. (Though secretly, by God’s hidden purpose in the covenant of grace, he may still have been a child of promise.) Thank God, we are not under Hagar anymore! Since Adam fell, we are no longer under law. Now Sarah has given birth—now the new covenant is the mother of us all.
One more thing: Hagar was never meant to be a wife. She was only supposed to be Sarah’s servant. In exactly the same way, the law was never designed to save anyone. It was only meant to be a servant to the covenant of grace. When God gave the law on Sinai, He never imagined that anyone would actually be saved by keeping it perfectly. He never expected human beings to reach heaven that way.
But you know the law is actually a wonderful servant to grace. Who drove us to the Savior? Wasn’t it the law thundering in our consciences? We would never have run to Christ if the law hadn’t chased us there. We would never have seen our sin if the law hadn’t exposed it. The law is like Sarah’s maid, sweeping the house, kicking up the dust so that we cry out for the blood of Jesus to be sprinkled and settle it all.
The law is, in a sense, Jesus Christ’s sheepdog—it goes after His wandering sheep and herds them back to the Shepherd. The law is the lightning bolt that terrifies the ungodly, makes them turn from their wicked ways, and seek refuge in God. If we know how to use the law properly—how to keep it in its rightful place as a servant to grace—then everything works as it should.
The problem is that Hagar is always trying to become the mistress, even though Sarah will never allow it. Sarah will always treat her roughly and drive her out—and we must do the same. So don’t be surprised if we sometimes speak harshly about those who are still trusting in their own works to save them. We’re only following Sarah’s example. She dealt harshly with Hagar, and so will we. Our goal is to make Hagar run away into the desert; we want nothing to do with her.
Yet here’s what’s astonishing: as rough and unattractive as Hagar is, people always seem to love her more than Sarah. They keep saying, “Hagar, you can be my mistress,” instead of, “No—Sarah, I will be your child, and Hagar can stay the slave.”
So where does God’s law stand for a Christian today? It is not over us; it is under us. Some people hold the law like a whip over believers’ heads and say, “If you sin, God will punish you with this.” That’s not true. The law is beneath the Christian—it’s the path we walk on, the guide, the rule, the pattern for our lives. We are “not under law but under grace.”
The law is the road we travel, not the stick that beats us or the power that motivates us. The law is good and excellent—as long as it stays in its proper place. No one blames a servant just for not being the wife. No one should despise Hagar simply because she isn’t Sarah. If she had only remembered her role, everything would have been fine, and her mistress would never have thrown her out. We don’t want to banish the law from our churches, as long as it stays in its rightful position. But the moment it tries to sit on the throne as mistress—out it goes! We will have nothing to do with legalism.
Another point: Hagar never was a free woman, and Sarah never was a slave. In the same way, the covenant of works has never set anyone free—and it never will. All its children are slaves and always will be. Even if someone could keep the law perfectly (which no one can), they would still be in bondage. Even with no sin on their record, they would still be slaves. Because even when we have done everything we were supposed to do, God doesn’t owe us anything—we still owe Him everything. We remain bond-servants.
If I could perfectly obey every command of God, I would still have no claim on His favor—I would only have done my duty. I’d still be a slave. The law is the harshest master imaginable. No wise person would choose to serve it. After all your effort, the law never says “thank you.” It just says, “Keep going—faster!”
The poor sinner trying to be saved by the law is like a blind horse walking in circles around a mill: no matter how fast he goes, he never gets anywhere. The whip just cracks harder. In fact, the better a legalist you are—the more diligently you work—the more exhausted you become, and the worse off you are. The holier a person appears while trusting in their own works, the more certain they are of final rejection and an eternity with the Pharisees.
Hagar was a slave, and Ishmael—good and upright as he seemed—was nothing more than a slave too. No amount of service to his father could ever make him a freeborn son.
Sarah, on the other hand, was never a slave. She might have been taken captive by Pharaoh for a time, but she was not a slave then. Her husband might have denied her for safety’s sake, but she was still his wife. Pharaoh was quickly forced to send her back.
In the same way, the covenant of grace has never truly been in danger. Its representative—Jesus—cried out in the garden, “Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me,” but the covenant itself was never at risk. And God’s people under this covenant may sometimes feel like captives or slaves, but in reality they are free. Oh, that we would learn to “stand firm in the liberty Christ has given us!”
Here’s one final thought: Hagar and her son were both cast out, but Sarah never was. In the same way, the covenant of works is no longer in effect as a covenant. It’s not just that the people who trusted in it were rejected—not only Ishmael was sent away, but his mother Hagar too. So the legalist can know not only that he himself stands condemned, but that the entire law-as-a-covenant has been abolished. Both mother and son have been driven out by the Gospel, and everyone who trusts in the law is sent packing by God Himself.
Ask today: who is Abraham’s real wife? Sarah, of course! She still lies beside her husband in the cave of Machpelah right now. Even if she rests there another thousand years, she will still be Abraham’s wife, while Hagar never can be. How comforting to know that the ancient covenant of grace was perfectly planned from the start and can never, ever be undone. As David said, “Although my house be not so with God, yet He has made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure.”
No wonder you legalists teach that believers can fall away from salvation—it fits your system perfectly! Of course Hagar and Ishmael have to be thrown out. But those of us who preach free, full, unconditional salvation know that Isaac will never be cast out, and Sarah will never stop being Abraham’s beloved wife.
You Hagarenes! You ritual-keepers, you hypocrites, you outward formalists! What good will it do you at the end when you cry, “Where is my mother? Where is the law that I trusted?” She’s been driven into the wilderness, and you’ll vanish with her into eternal oblivion. But where is my mother? Every Christian will be able to say, “There she is—Jerusalem above, the mother of us all, the free city!” And we will enter in and live forever with our Father and our God.
Now let’s look at the TWO SONS.
Just as the two women represent the two covenants, the two sons represent the people who live under each one. Isaac stands for the person who walks by faith, not by sight, and who hopes to be saved only by grace. Ishmael stands for the person who lives by works and hopes his own goodness will save him. Let’s compare them.
First, Ishmael is the older brother. That means, dear friends, the legalist is a lot older than the true Christian. If I were still a legalist today, I’d be fifteen or sixteen years older than I am as a believer—because we are all born legalists. As George Whitefield said about Arminians, “We are all born Arminians.” It takes grace to turn us into Calvinists, grace to make us real Christians, grace to set us free and show us our true standing in Christ.
So don’t be surprised when legalists seem to have stronger arguments than believers. When the two boys wrestle, Isaac usually ends up on the ground—Ishmael is bigger and stronger. And Ishmael always makes the most noise, because he’s a wild man, fighting everyone and being fought by everyone. Isaac, on the other hand, is quiet and peaceful. He sticks up for his mother, and when Ishmael mocks him, all he can do is run and tell her. He isn’t very strong.
That’s exactly what you see today. The Ishmaelites—legalists—are usually louder and more aggressive. When we argue with them, they often knock us down. In fact, they brag that we Isaacs don’t have much logic or reasoning power. And they’re right—Isaac doesn’t need it! He is an heir simply because of God’s promise, and promise and human logic don’t always go together. Isaac’s logic is his faith; his eloquence is his earnest love.
Don’t expect the Gospel to win debates when you argue like the world does. You’ll usually lose. If a legalist beats you in an argument, just smile and say, “I expected that. It just proves I’m an Isaac—Ishmael always thrashes Isaac. Your father and mother were young and strong when you were born; mine were old and weak. Of course you’re stronger!”
Now, outwardly, what difference was there between the two boys? None at all when it came to religious ceremonies—both were circumcised. There was no visible distinction in outward signs. The same is true today, beloved: there is often no difference between a legalist and a real Christian when it comes to outward religious acts. The legalist takes communion, gets baptized, and would be terrified to die without those things.
And honestly, there probably wasn’t much difference in character either. Ishmael was almost as good and honorable as Isaac. Scripture says nothing bad about him. In fact, I suspect he was a really fine young man, because when God promised a blessing, He specifically said it would be “with Isaac.” Abraham loved Ishmael so much that he begged God, “Oh, that Ishmael might live before You!” God answered, “Yes, I will bless Ishmael too—he’ll be the father of princes and have great earthly prosperity.” But God would not change His promise, not even for Abraham’s prayer.
When Sarah finally drove Hagar out (and she was fierce that day), Scripture says it “grieved Abraham on account of his son.” I don’t think that grief was foolish sentiment—Abraham genuinely loved the boy’s character. And here’s one beautiful detail: when Abraham died, he had already given Ishmael his inheritance and sent him away, leaving him nothing more. Yet Ishmael still came back with Isaac to bury their father in the cave of Machpelah. So outwardly, there was very little difference between the two boys.
That’s how it is today: there is often little visible difference in behavior between a legalist and a Christian. Both can look like genuine children of Abraham. The distinction isn’t in their lifestyle—God allowed Ishmael to be just as good as Isaac to prove that human goodness is not what makes the difference. As Scripture says, “I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will harden whom I will harden.”
So what was the real difference? Paul tells us: one was born according to the flesh, the other according to the Spirit. Ishmael was a natural son; Isaac was a supernatural one.
Ask a legalist, “You do good works, you’ve repented, you say you’re keeping the law perfectly—where did you get the power to do all that?” He might say “grace,” but press him and he’ll admit, “I used the grace God gave me.” So the difference, then, is that you used grace better than others did? Exactly. Call it grace if you want, but it’s really your own effort. You’re the one who made the difference.
Now ask Isaac the same question: “Have you kept the law?” He’ll hang his head and say, “Terribly. I’m a great sinner. I’ve rebelled against my Father countless times.” So you don’t think you’re as good as Ishmael? “Not even close.”
Yet there is a huge difference between you and Ishmael. What made it? Isaac answers, “Grace—pure grace. From beginning to end, God made me differ. I was a child of promise before I was even born, and only God can keep me that way.”
Actually, Isaac ends up producing far more genuine good works than Ishmael ever does. Once he is truly converted, he works—if it is possible—even harder to serve his Father than the legalist serves his harsh master. Yet if you heard both of them tell their stories, you would hear Isaac confess that he is a poor, miserable sinner, while Ishmael would paint himself as a very respectable, Pharisee-like gentleman.
The real difference is not in the works themselves, but in the motives. Not in the outward life, but in the power that sustains the life—not so much in what they do, but in why and how they do it. Here, then, is the difference between some of you. It is not that you legalists are worse people than Christians—you may often live better lives and still be lost. Do you think that is unfair? Not at all. God has plainly said that people must be saved by faith. If you insist, “No, I will be saved by my works,” you are free to try—but you will be lost forever.
It is exactly like a master who tells his servant, “John, go clean the stable.” But John does the opposite and then says, “Sir, I have done it very nicely.” “Yes,” the master replies, “but that is not what I told you to do.” God has never commanded you to save yourself by good works. He has said, “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling—for it is God who works in you, both to will and to do according to His good pleasure.” So when you stand before God with your pile of good works, He will say, “I never asked you to do that. I told you to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and be baptized, and you would be saved.” “But,” you protest, “I thought my way was much better.” Sir, you will be condemned for your own opinion. That is why Paul asks, “Why have the Gentiles, who did not pursue righteousness, attained righteousness, while Israel, who pursued it, has not?” The answer: “Because they sought it not by faith, but as it were by the works of the law.”
Now a brief word about ISHMAEL’S BEHAVIOR TOWARD ISAAC.
The Bible says Ishmael mocked Isaac. Haven’t some of you children of Hagar felt burning anger when you heard this teaching? You have said, “This is terrible! It’s immoral! It’s horribly unfair that I can be as good as I please, yet if I am not a child of the promise, I still cannot be saved. This doctrine does endless harm and ought to be silenced!”
Exactly! That reaction proves you are an Ishmael. Of course Ishmael mocks Isaac—no further explanation needed. Wherever the pure sovereignty of God is preached—wherever it is declared that the child of promise, not the child of flesh, is the true heir—the child of flesh always kicks up a fuss.
What did Ishmael say to Isaac? “What right do you have here? I am Father’s firstborn! All the inheritance should have been mine if you hadn’t come along. How dare you be put above me?” That is exactly how the legalist talks: “Isn’t God the Father of everyone? Aren’t we all His children? He has no right to make distinctions.” Ishmael sneers, “Aren’t I just as good as you? Don’t I serve Father just as well? You’re only Mother’s pet, but my mother is every bit as good as yours!” And so he teases and mocks Isaac.
That is precisely what Arminians and legalists do with free grace. “I don’t see it, I can’t accept it, and I won’t! If we are equal in character, it can’t be fair that one is saved and the other lost.” That is mocking the Gospel of grace.
You can get along quite comfortably if you don’t preach free grace too boldly. But dare to proclaim it plainly (even though the crowd hates it), and people will cry, “That’s just a bait for popularity!” (Look at what the so-called Freeman newspaper says.) Very few fish ever bite at that bait, though.
Most people hiss, “I hate that preacher—I can’t stand him. He is so uncharitable.” Uncharitable? You accuse us of preaching sovereignty to gain a following? That is an obvious lie on the face of it. The doctrine of God’s absolute sovereignty has never been popular and never will be. Men have always hated it and gnashed their teeth against it—just as they did when Jesus preached it. He said, “There were many widows in Israel, yet Elijah was sent to none of them except a widow in Zarephath. There were many lepers in Israel, yet none were cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.” What popularity did Jesus win that day? The crowd gnashed their teeth and tried to hurl Him off the cliff—only He slipped away.
Popular? To crush human pride, to strip away every ground of boasting, to make a man fall on his face before God as a helpless sinner? That will never be popular until men are reborn as angels and everyone loves the Lord—and that day is not coming anytime soon.
Finally, we must ask: WHAT BECAME OF THE TWO SONS?
First, Isaac received the entire inheritance, while Ishmael got nothing of it. Don’t misunderstand—Ishmael didn’t end up poor. He received many gifts from Abraham, became extremely wealthy, and rose to greatness in this world. In the same way, the legalist often receives plenty of earthly blessings as a kind of reward for his rule-keeping. He is respected, honored, and successful. Jesus Himself said of the Pharisees, “Truly, they have their reward.”
God never cheats anyone out of what they earn. Whatever a person sets their heart on, they will catch. God pays every debt—and often far more. Those who obey His commands in this life usually enjoy real benefits: better health than the reckless, a good reputation, and many favors. Obedience pays dividends even here.
But Ishmael received none of the true inheritance. So it is with you, poor legalist: if you are trusting in your works—or anything at all except the free, sovereign grace of God—to escape death and hell, you will not get even one square foot of the promised Canaan. On that great day when God divides the inheritance among the true children of Jacob, there will not be a single scrap left for you.
- But if you are a trembling Isaac—a guilty, helpless sinner who says, “Ishmael has his hands full, but nothing in my hands I bring, simply to the cross I cling”
- If this morning you can say, “I am nothing at all, but Jesus Christ is my all-in-all”
- If you renounce every work of the flesh and confess, “I am the worst of sinners, yet I am a child of the promise because Jesus died for me”
Then you will have an inheritance that no mocking Ishmael can steal and no son of Hagar can reduce. You may sometimes be sold into Egypt like Joseph, but God will bring His Isaacs back again, and one day you will be exalted to glory and sit at Christ’s right hand.
I often imagine the shock in hell when outwardly good people arrive there. One cries out, “Lord, am I really going into that awful place? Didn’t I keep the Sabbath? Wasn’t I strict about it? I never cursed or swore. I paid my tithes faithfully. I was baptized, took communion, and lived better than most. And now I’m locked up here?”
Yes, sir. And among the damned you will have this terrible distinction: you rejected Christ more proudly than almost anyone. Others never set up an anti-Christ. They sinned openly, and so did you in your own way. But you added the worst sin of all—you set yourself up as your own savior and worshiped your own imagined goodness.
Then God will remind the legalist, “On such-and-such a day I heard you attack My sovereignty. You called it unfair that I save whom I will and give My gifts according to My own purpose. You accused your Creator of injustice—and now you will taste justice in full measure.” The man thought he had a huge credit balance in heaven, but he discovers it amounts to a few grains of duty. God unrolls the endless scroll of his sins, with this verdict at the bottom: “Without God, without hope, a stranger to the people of Israel.” In that moment he sees that his little pile of “merit” is not even half a penny, while the debt of his sin is ten million tons. With a desperate scream he flees, clutching the worthless notes of his good works, crying, “I am lost! Lost with all my good works! My righteousness was only white-washed hypocrisy, and my sins are mountains!”
One more thing: Ishmael was sent away, while Isaac stayed in the house. So it will be in the final day of testing. Some of you have lived in the church alongside true believers, wearing the mask of profession. But when the fire comes, the mask will melt. You have been like the older brother in the parable—every time a repentant prodigal came home, you grumbled, “As soon as this son of yours comes back after wasting everything on prostitutes, you kill the fatted calf for him!”
Envious legalist, you will be banished from the house at last. I tell you plainly: you have no more share in Christ than a pagan does. You may have been baptized with Christian baptism, sat at the Lord’s table, and listened to Christian sermons, but unless you are resting solely on the grace of God and are a true child of the promise, you have no part in the matter—no more than a Roman Catholic or a Muslim.
Anyone who trusts his own works, even a little, will find that little trust destroys his soul. Everything that human nature builds must be torn down. The ship that works constructed will have its keel snapped in two. A soul must trust completely and only in God’s covenant of grace, or it is lost forever.
Legalist, you say you hope to be saved by your works. Let me treat you respectfully. I won’t accuse you of drunkenness or swearing. But answer me honestly: do you realize that to be saved by works you must be absolutely perfect? God demands flawless obedience to the whole law. One tiny crack spoils the entire vessel. Have you never sinned—not once? Never a wrong thought, never an evil desire? Come now, sir—those clean white gloves have never touched lust? That refined mouth has never uttered an oath or a dirty joke? I’ll grant you all that. But have you ever sinned at all?
“Yes,” you admit. Then hear this: “The soul that sins shall die.” That is the end of the conversation.
But suppose you claim you have never sinned. Do you realize that if you live perfectly for seventy years and then commit one single sin on the last day, all your obedience counts for nothing? “Whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become guilty of all of it.”
“Ah,” you say, “you’re being too strict. I know I’m not perfect, but I’m sincere. And I believe God accepts sincere effort in place of perfect obedience.”
Really? And what exactly is “sincere obedience”? I’ve known men who got drunk every Saturday night but were “sincere” because they were sober on Sunday. Many people have a “sincere obedience” that leaves a comfortable little margin for their favorite sins. “I don’t sin much,” they say—just a little here and there.
Sir, if that is sincere obedience, then the worst criminals are as sincere as you. But I don’t believe you are sincere at all. If you were, you would obey what God actually commands: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved.”
Or perhaps you say, “After all my effort, I’ll go to Jesus and ask Him to make up the difference.” I’ve heard of weighing witches against the parish Bible—if they outweighed the book, they were declared innocent. Putting yourself and Christ in the same scale is just as ridiculous. Christ will not serve as a make-weight for your imaginary goodness. He refuses the insult.
You want Christ to assist you in salvation? He is not that kind of Savior. When He does something, He does it all. When He made the world, He didn’t ask Gabriel to fan the molten earth cool with his wings—He did it alone. So it is with salvation: “I will not give My glory to another.”
Remember this verse and chew on it at home: “If it is by grace, then it is no longer on the basis of works; otherwise grace would no longer be grace. But if it is by works, then it is no longer grace; otherwise work would no longer be work.” Mix the two, and you ruin both.
Go home and try to make soup out of fire and water. Try keeping a lion and a lamb in the same room peacefully. When you manage that, come tell me you have blended grace and works—and I will tell you that you have lied, because the two are utterly opposed.
Whoever you are, throw away every shred of self-trust and come to Jesus crying,
“Nothing, nothing, NOTHING! Nothing in my hands I bring, simply to the cross I cling.”
Then Christ will give you real good works—His Spirit will work in you to will and to do what pleases God, and He will make you truly holy. But if you try to become holy first and then come to Christ, you have started at the wrong end. You are chasing the flower without the root, and you will end up with nothing.
Ishmaels, tremble before Him now!
And you who are Isaacs, true children of the promise—stand firm! Never let yourselves be entangled again in the yoke of bondage. You are not under law, but under grace.
16 March, 1856 : “Zealous of good works.” – Titus 2:14
We’re not worried at all that anything we say this morning will push any of you into a legalistic mindset – into thinking you can earn your salvation by your own efforts. After all the times we’ve warned you against trusting in your good deeds, and after the Holy Spirit has (we trust) driven that truth home to your hearts, we’re confident you won’t misunderstand us today. When we talk about good works, please don’t imagine for a second that we’re suggesting those works can save you or add anything to your eternal salvation.
Just a couple of weeks ago, on a Sunday morning, we went to great lengths to explain the difference between the two covenants: the covenant of works and the covenant of grace. (If you want to review it, that was sermon #69 on Sarah and Hagar.) Please keep that teaching fresh in your mind. If anything we say today accidentally sounds like we’re slipping back into legalism, put it side-by-side with what we taught then. And wherever we might unintentionally drift from the great truth that we are justified by faith alone, feel free to ignore us on that point.
“Zealous of good works.” Some people hear us preach the high doctrine of salvation by grace alone, through faith alone – a salvation that is entirely God’s gift, not something we achieve – and they immediately assume we can’t possibly preach about good works. They think we’re incapable of giving a solid, heartfelt call to Christians to live holy lives.
Well, we won’t claim we can preach the perfect sermon, but we’ll certainly try to give you one on this subject that’s every bit as powerful and effective as anything the legalists produce. In fact, ours will do far more to stir God’s children to genuine holiness than their versions ever could – because theirs are built on self-effort, threats, rules, and shaky promises that might scare slaves into line but have almost no power to move a true child of God.
God’s people are a holy people. That’s the very reason they were born again and brought into this world: to be holy. That’s why Christ redeemed them with His own blood and set them apart as His own special possession. The ultimate goal of God’s election – the whole point of all His eternal purposes – remains unfulfilled until His people become a community that burns with zeal for good works.
This morning we’re going to cover four things:
- First, we’ll explain what good works actually are – because a lot of things people call “good works” aren’t good works at all.
- Second, we’ll trace real good works back to their true source – where they actually come from.
- Third, we’ll show you the real purpose and value of good works.
- Finally, we’ll close by proving that the doctrines we hold so dearly – the doctrines of free, sovereign, distinguishing grace – far from making believers lazy or careless, actually produce people who are passionate and “zealous of good works.”
I. So let’s begin with the question: WHAT ARE GOOD WORKS?
I’m going to risk offending some of you right now, because when we tell you what true good works really are, a lot of you won’t like it. In fact, once we define the term properly, I’m convinced that genuine good works are among the rarest things on earth. If we walked up and down the streets of this city for miles, we might not see a single one.
Now, let me be clear: we’re not using the word “good” in the weak, everyday sense – like when we say someone is a good neighbor or a good citizen. Plenty of actions are “good enough” between one person and another. Today we’re using the word good in its highest, strictest, biblical sense: good in the sight of God.
And once we do that, we’ll be able to show you two shocking truths:
- There are very, very few truly good works being done anywhere in the world.
- Outside the true church of Jesus Christ – outside of those who belong to Him – there are none at all.
We believe that if we read the Bible correctly, no action can be counted as a truly good work unless it is something God has specifically commanded. That one principle cuts away huge chunks of what people do when they’re trying to earn salvation or make God owe them something!
Take the Pharisee Jesus spoke about: he bragged that he tithed even his garden herbs – mint, anise, and cumin. Fine. But could he point to a single verse where God commanded him to tithe those tiny spices? Probably not. He boasted that he fasted twice a week. Show me the command from God that told him to do that. If no command existed, then his fasting wasn’t obedience at all. Here’s the rule: if I do something God never told me to do, I’m not obeying Him by doing it – no matter how hard or impressive it looks.
That’s why all the religious self-punishment in the world is worthless: whipping your body, starving yourself, wearing hair shirts, taking vows of silence or poverty – if God didn’t command it, it’s not obedience, and it will never gain His favor. A man can build an entire street of houses for the poor, and the world will call it wonderful philanthropy. But if he did it without any reference to God’s command, then in God’s sight he has done zero good works.
Second, even when an action is commanded by God, it is still not a good work unless it springs from a right motive. And the only motive that makes a work truly good is the glory of God.
- If someone does “good” things to save himself, his motive is selfish – therefore it’s not good.
- If he does them to earn praise from people or to improve society, that’s a respectable motive as far as men are concerned, but it’s still a lower motive. If the goal is simply the good of our fellow human beings, then let our fellow human beings give us our reward. That has nothing to do with pleasing God.
A work is only good when a person does it looking straight to the glory of God. And no one can do that until God has opened his eyes to see what God’s glory really is, until he has been brought under the lordship of Christ, so that in everything he does he has one great aim: to honor and magnify the name of God in the world.
And even then – even when the command is right and the motive is right – there is still one more thing required: the work must be done in faith. The Bible is crystal clear: “Without faith it is impossible to please God” (Heb. 11:6).
You can pile up the biggest, most beautiful altar, like Cain did, and lay the finest produce on it. It might look perfect on the outside. But if the salt of faith is missing, it will just lie there, smoking and unacceptable. God will not receive it.
Bring me the most selfless humanitarian who ever lived – someone who spent his whole life, his health, and his strength serving others. Bring me the most dutiful public servant who worked night and day until his body was broken, simply because he believed his country expected him to do his duty, and he wanted to do it. I will honor that man as a fellow human being, but I still have to say: if all of that was done without faith in Jesus Christ, then in the sight of God not one of those actions was a good work. Not one.
Show me that man. Parade all his charitable deeds in front of me. Let me see the most extravagant generosity, the most lavish giving imaginable. Tell me he spent his entire life with consistent, noble motives, pouring himself out for his country and his fellow man. Now ask him one simple question: “Do you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ? Do you trust in the Son of God for your salvation?”
If he cannot answer yes – if Jesus is not his Savior and Lord – then I am forced by Scripture and by honesty to say this: As far as God is concerned, that man has never done even one genuinely good work in his entire life. Not one.
And even when we do have true faith, even when every outward action is commanded by God and every inward motive is aimed at God’s glory, we still don’t have a single good work until the blood of Jesus Christ is sprinkled on it.
Look back over everything you’ve ever done – every prayer, every act of kindness, every sermon, every sacrifice. Can you find one single thing you dare present to God as “good” in itself? Yes, if the Holy Spirit truly worked it in us, there is something good in it. But there is also so much evil mixed in – pride, selfishness, unbelief, wandering thoughts, love of praise – that our very best deeds are stained, torn, and defiled. We wouldn’t dare call them good until Jesus washes them in His precious blood and removes every spot.
I’ve thought about this in my own life more times than I can count. I stand up here and preach God’s Word with all my strength. I haven’t held back – whether in front of friends or enemies – and by God’s grace I’ve tried to declare the whole counsel of God. And yet, brothers and sisters, how many of those sermons were not good works at all? Times when my eye wasn’t fixed on my Master’s honor. Times when faith was weak and I preached in a depressed, gloomy, miserable spirit. Or worse – times when, even in the joy of seeing souls converted, some ugly root of pride or self-honoring crept in, and part of me wanted the world to say, “Look how many people that preacher is winning!”
That’s the heartbreaking truth: until Christ’s blood covers it, even our best efforts are too soiled to be called good in God’s sight.
Even when the whole church comes together to do what look like holy projects – feeding the poor, building orphanages, running outreaches – have you never noticed how something sneaky and selfish still creeps in? We want our denomination to get the credit. We want people to say, “Look how amazing our church is.” We want our group to look strong and successful.
Beloved, if you and I ever sit down honestly and start unpicking our “good works” thread by thread, we’ll find so many bad stitches – pride, people-pleasing, love of reputation – that the whole thing has to be ripped apart and done over. Our deeds are covered with spots, smears, and stains. The only thing that can make them usable in God’s sight is to have them plunged into the blood of Christ and washed white.
Now let me ask you plainly: After everything I’ve just said, do you still think you have any truly good works of your own?
Most of you are already shaking your heads. “No,” you say, “I’m afraid I don’t have many – actually, I know I have none worth calling good.”
But then you lift your eyes and say, “Thanks be to God! The same Savior who accepted my person in Christ now accepts my imperfect works through Christ. The same grace that chose me and made me a vessel for honor is pleased to fill this cracked pot and then accept what He Himself poured into it – all ‘to the praise of the glory of His grace, by which He made us accepted in the Beloved’” (Eph. 1:6).
That is the gospel comfort for every real believer.
But now let me turn to the rest of you—the moral, upright, respectable people who have trusted in your own goodness. If everything I’ve said is true (and it is), where does that leave all your so-called holiness?
You say, “I’m a charitable person.” Fine. Then take your receipts to the people you helped and let them pay you. Collect your applause from men—that’s the only reward you’ll ever get.
You say, “I’ve lived a consistent, moral life. I’m a credit to society. If everyone lived like me, the world would be a better place.” Wonderful. You’ve served your generation. Send the bill to your generation and let them pay you. As far as God is concerned, you’ve worked for nothing. You’ve sown the wind, and one day you’ll reap the whirlwind.
God doesn’t owe you a thing. You have never once lived for His honor. Be honest: not a single action you’ve ever done was driven by a pure desire to please Him. Your highest motive has always been self – self-preservation, self-comfort, self-reputation. You were good because you thought goodness would get you to heaven, and you feared evil would send you to hell. That’s pure selfishness from start to finish.
Add it all up. Settle the account with yourself. You’re bankrupt before God.
And if, by chance, you think some of your deeds were done for Him, just remember how often and how willingly you’ve broken His commands, how constantly you’ve lived in rebellion against your Maker. Any supposed “credit” is wiped out a million times over.
So where are your good works now? Where are they?
They’re a fantasy, an illusion, a bubble that bursts the moment God looks at it.
There is no such thing as a good work in an unbeliever.
Augustine was exactly right when he said, “The so-called good works of unbelievers are nothing but splendid sins.” That’s true of the very best deeds of the very best person who is still outside of Christ – they are nothing but glittering, varnished sins.
God forgive you, my friends, for your good works! If you are not in Christ, you need forgiveness for those just as much as for your worst sins – because when they are laid bare at the judgment, both will be seen for what they really are: rotten, unclean, and unacceptable.
II. Now, secondly, WHERE DO GOOD WORKS ACTUALLY COME FROM?
There’s an old saying: “Water never rises higher than its source.” A stream flowing down from the top of a hill can get back up to the exact height of its spring, but unless some outside pump forces it higher, it will never go above that level. The same is true of human nature.
The Bible says our natural heart is desperately wicked and corrupt (Jer. 17:9). You don’t get sweet water from a bitter spring. You don’t pick healthy grapes from a poisonous vine. Thorns don’t produce figs, and thistles don’t grow roses.
So don’t waste your time looking for genuine good works in an unchanged, unregenerate human nature. It’s impossible. The natural man – the person who has never been born again – simply cannot produce anything that God will accept as truly good. Expecting good works from an unbelieving heart is as ridiculous as expecting the vineyards of Sodom to yield the sweet grapes of Sorek.
“Then where on earth do real good works come from?” you ask.
Here’s the answer: Good works only come from a real, supernatural conversion worked by the Holy Spirit of God.
Until a person is truly converted – until the Spirit has given them a brand-new heart – there is not the slightest trace of goodness in them that God recognizes. The world may call them respectable. Society may put them on a pedestal. But in God’s sight, none of it counts.
If we could see our own hearts the way we see other people’s faces – if we had a spiritual microscope and could look closely at what’s really going on inside – we would be horrified. We’d run screaming from the very thought that we had ever done anything good. Pride, lust, envy, selfishness, unbelief, and a thousand other crawling, loathsome things would be wriggling all over everything we’ve ever done.
Think of the food on your dinner table. It looks fine to the naked eye. But put it under a powerful microscope and suddenly you see tiny creatures, filth, and decay you never imagined were there. You’d push the plate away in disgust.
That’s what the heart looks like to God before conversion. And that’s why, until the Holy Spirit comes in and makes all things new, there is no such thing as a truly good work. Not one.
That’s exactly what happens when the Word of God is held up like a microscope to the human heart. Once the Holy Spirit opens our eyes and we see ourselves in the light of Scripture, we discover something filthy and vile. We realize that expecting genuine good works from an unconverted person is as impossible as expecting fire to burn in the middle of the ocean. The two things simply do not go together.
So where do real good works come from?
- They spring from a real, supernatural conversion – being born again by the Spirit of God.
- Even more than that, they flow out of a constant, daily influence of the same Holy Spirit, from the moment of conversion right up to the hour we die.
Christian, if the Spirit stopped breathing fresh grace into you every single day, you would have no good works at all. The grace you received on the first day you believed is not enough to carry you through today, any more than yesterday’s dinner is enough to keep you alive right now.
Good works are not like a fruit tree planted inside us that automatically produces year after year. No – we are only branches. Jesus is the living Vine, and the sap – His life, His strength, His righteousness—has to keep rising into us every moment. Cut off that flow of grace for even a second, and the branch withers. Good works come floating down to us on the river of God’s grace. Apart from that constant stream, nothing good ever flows out of us.
Good works are not something the creature produces on its own. They are gifts from God – choice, priceless pearls that He threads onto the necklace of our lives by His own hand.
And one more thing: good works spring directly from our living union with Christ.
The closer you are to Jesus, the more you know and feel yourself to be one with Him, the holier you will become. Why? Because being joined to Christ actually makes you Christ-like. That’s the whole mystery.
Why does a branch on a grapevine produce grapes? Only because it has been grafted into the vine and now shares the same life and nature as the vine itself. In exactly the same way, the only way you and I will ever bear fruit that pleases God is by being grafted into Christ and staying vitally united to Him.
Any Christian who thinks he can live a holy life while keeping Jesus at arm’s length has made a tragic mistake. If you want real good works, you must live close – closer – closest to Jesus. That’s the only place they grow.
And here’s why this truth destroys every thought of trusting in our own works:
- Good works are produced only by God’s grace, not by human effort.
- Therefore an unbelieving, unregenerate person has zero ability to produce them.
- And even when God does produce them in us, they are His gifts from start to finish – so how could we ever boast or imagine we’ve earned anything by them?
They are all of grace, from first to last.
III. Now we come to the third point: WHAT IS THE USE OF GOOD WORKS?
I actually don’t mind when people call me an Antinomian (someone who’s against God’s law), because the label is usually thrown at those who hold the doctrine of free grace so tightly that they won’t let go of it for anything. But let’s be crystal clear: I am not against the law of God. We rejoice that the law is no longer our way of salvation; we’re not under the covenant of works anymore. But the law itself? It is holy, righteous, and good. The problem is not the law; the problem is us: “The law is spiritual, but I am carnal, sold under sin.”
So no one who knows us can honestly accuse us of being Antinomians. We do, however, have a quarrel with the real Antinomians who say the moral law no longer matters at all to a believer. At the same time, we have no fight with those poor, confused souls who insist the law is still binding as a way of salvation and then wear themselves out trying to keep it perfectly. They’re not going to do much damage; they’re just mixed up. One day, by God’s grace, they’ll learn the difference between the law as a covenant that brings life (which it never could) and the law as a loving guide for those who already have life in Christ.
We love good works. We really do. So when someone asks, “What are they actually for? Why do they matter?” here’s the answer: Good works are the evidence of grace in the heart.
Some who claim to be “advanced” in grace say, “I don’t need evidences. I can live without them.” That’s foolish talk. Look at a clock on the wall. The clock doesn’t create time; it simply shows what time it already is. The hour would be the same if the clock were smashed. Yet we still find the clock extremely useful. In exactly the same way, good works don’t create salvation, but they are the best visible evidence that salvation has already happened inside a person.
The Bible says, “We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love the brothers and sisters” (1 John 3:14). Loving the family of God is a good work—and it’s proof that new life is real.
Jesus said, “Whoever abides in Me bears much fruit” (John 15:5). The fruit of righteousness is good works, and those works are the proof that we are truly abiding in Him.
Imagine a man who sits in church every Sunday, nodding enthusiastically at the preaching: “Wonderful! Heavenly truth! Delicious doctrine!” Then he walks out and heads straight to the pub, gets drunk night after night, and spends the rest of the week with people who hate God. Does that man have any right to claim he is a child of God and on his way to heaven? Of course not. He gives zero evidence that God’s grace is at work in him.
He probably says, “I don’t like all this talk about good works.” No wonder—he doesn’t have any! He’s quick to quote the hymn: “Nothing in my hand I bring, Simply to Thy cross I cling.”
And he’s half right: he really does have nothing in his hand. The problem is, he’s clinging to the cross with one hand while clinging to his sin with the other. Real faith clings to Christ with both hands—and then the fruit follows. Good works are the evidence that the clinging is genuine.
Many are ready enough to say, “Nothing in my hands I bring, Simply to Thy cross I cling;”
who believe they are children of God simply because they claim to have faith, even though their lives show zero evidence of it.
Oh, my friend, you say you have faith? Fine. There’s another man (just as respectable-looking as you) who also says he has faith, and the Bible says of him, “Even the demons believe—and tremble!” (James 2:19). He at least shakes under the Word; you sit there cold and unmoved no matter how loudly the gospel thunders.
You who keep living in open sin while calling yourselves Christians are walking in one of the most dangerous delusions imaginable. There is hardly a more fatal mistake (short of the Pharisee’s proud “I’m good enough”) than to think grace and sin can reign together in the same heart. Yes, true Christians still battle remaining sin and groan over it daily. But as far as their outward life is concerned, God keeps them. The evil one does not have free access to them; the Lord hides them under His wing and (except for occasional stumbles) keeps them from plunging back into their old ways.
Here’s the biblical order:
- We are justified before God by faith alone, apart from works.
- But our faith is justified (proved genuine) before ourselves and others by our works.
Second, good works are the Christian’s public testimony to the world.
Every believer has been sent into this world to preach. Not every believer stands in a pulpit, but every creature God has made preaches something about its Creator. The stars preach His greatness. The storm preaches His power. The flowers preach His beauty. The oceans roar His majesty. Everything God has made is constantly declaring, “There is a God!”
In the same way, a person who has been made new in Christ cannot help preaching Christ wherever he goes. And the main way he preaches is not with his lips but with his life. Good works are a walking sermon.
A sermon is not only what you say; a sermon is what you do. You can preach a thousand words on Sunday and the world will forget them by Monday. But a life of consistent love, integrity, humility, and holiness—that sermon is never forgotten.
This is exactly why Christianity is not sweeping the world with greater power today: too many professing Christians are an embarrassment to the name they bear. Many church members live no differently (sometimes worse) than the pagans around them. If I stood up here on Sunday and preached one thing, then spent the rest of the week openly contradicting it, you would say, “We’re not coming back until that man learns to practice what he preaches!”
Yet that is exactly what many of you do with your lives. Some of you sound like angels when you pray in church, then sound like the world the moment you step into your workshop or office. You would hardly be recognized as the same person! Shame on such hypocrisy.
Watch yourselves, professors of Christ. Inconsistency can destroy your testimony. And some of you are not inconsistent at all—you are fearfully consistent: consistently hypocritical, because you live in sin while wearing the Christian name.
Third, good works are the beautiful adornment of a Christian.
Remember what Scripture says about how a woman should dress herself? “Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair, the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear—but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious” (1 Peter 3:3-4).
That gentle, quiet, holy spirit shows itself in a thousand good works—and that is the most gorgeous thing a child of God can ever wear. Good works make the gospel attractive. They are the jewels that decorate the Bride of Christ and cause the world to stop and say, “Their God must be the true God, because look at the beauty He produces in His people.”
The only adornment in which we ever hope to stand before God in heaven is the spotless blood and perfect righteousness of Jesus Christ. That is our wedding dress for eternity.
But the adornment of the Christian here on earth—the beauty that makes the church lovely in this world—is holiness, godliness, and consistency of life.
If some of us had a little more genuine piety, we wouldn’t need such flashy clothes and jewelry to make us feel significant. Real holiness sets a person off far better than the most expensive outfit.
The finest earrings a woman can wear are ears that listen eagerly to God’s Word. The most precious ring is the one the Father slipped onto the prodigal’s finger the moment he came home—grace, forgiveness, sonship. And the most stunning garment any of us will ever wear is the robe woven day by day by the Holy Spirit: a life of steady, humble, consistent obedience.
Yet it’s astonishing how much effort people will pour into decorating this dying body while leaving their soul naked and shabby. They’re late to worship because they simply had to find that one extra pin or ribbon. They rush in just as the service starts, breathless, because they had “so much to put on.”
And many Christian men and women seem to have completely forgotten the plain New Testament command that believers—especially women—are to dress modestly, without ostentation (1 Timothy 2:9-10).
Maybe we ought to go back to John Wesley’s old rule: come out from the world in our clothing. Dress as simply and neatly as the Quakers used to—though sadly even they have drifted from their original plainness.
I know I’m stepping down from the “high doctrine” for a moment, but honestly, the children of God should be recognizable! Right now, in too many places, you could not tell a child of the devil from a child of God by outward appearance—and that ought not to be. Yes, Scripture allows differences of station and culture, but everything in the Bible cries out against pride, extravagance, and trying to outshine one another with our clothes.
Some of you are squirming and saying, “I wish he’d leave that alone.” Of course you do—it hits too close to home. But if it’s in the Bible, we will not leave it alone. Honesty to your conscience and to my own calling demands that I point out any evil I see creeping into the church—no matter who it offends.
If you want real jewelry, here it is—straight from Scripture: Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience, and love (Col. 3:12-14). Put on honesty, integrity, godliness, brotherly love, and generous charity. Dress like that and you will shine like an angel. The world itself will be forced to admire you, and heaven will applaud.
My brothers and sisters, “Adorn the doctrine of God our Savior in everything” (Titus 2:10).
IV. Finally—and briefly—let me show you that the gospel we preach in this place, the doctrines of sovereign, distinguishing grace (often nicknamed “Calvinism”), are perfectly designed to produce good works in God’s children.
People love to slander us: “That kind of teaching leads to loose living. If you tell people they’re saved by grace alone, they’ll live however they want.”
We answer with plain history. Name the holiest men and women the church has ever known. In the early centuries: Athanasius, Ambrose, Chrysostom—every one of them held the doctrines of grace we love. In the Middle Ages and Reformation: Wycliffe, Hus, Calvin—all staunch predestinarians, all blazing lights of holiness. In the 1600s: the Puritans—strict Calvinists to a man—were the godliest, most prayerful, most devout, most morally upright generation England ever produced.
I read a description the other day that warmed my heart: “The Puritans were fiery Calvinists and fiery preachers. They were men of secret prayer, family worship, and public devotion. They hated profanity and foolish jesting. They kept the Lord’s Day holy—twice to church, Bible under their arm, while others were at plays or games. Their homes were filled with Scripture-reading, psalm-singing, and catechizing. They were frugal, industrious, honest in business, and generous to the poor.”
Even unbelievers have been forced to admit it. One learned infidel wrote of modern Calvinists: “Compared with their opponents, they have excelled in the most rigid and respectable virtues; they have been an honor to their age and the best model for every succeeding generation.”
Another unbeliever quipped: “If you want to hear about good works, go to the Arminians. If you want to see good works, go to the Calvinists.”
Even the Unitarian Joseph Priestley had to concede that those who “ascribe more to God and less to man” have a far deeper piety and less worldly conformity than his own followers.
Look at the doctrines themselves—how could they possibly produce anything but holiness?
- We teach that God has chosen a people who must and will be holy. Unholy?
- We teach that God’s eternal purpose is to conform them to the image of His Son. Unholy?
- We teach that the Holy Spirit gives a brand-new heart and keeps pouring grace into it every day. Un, unregenerate effort can’t do it. Unholy?
- We teach that true saints will persevere in holiness to the end. Unholy?
- We teach that only those who live holy lives have any real interest in Christ’s blood. Unholy?
Show me one doctrine of grace that tends toward sin. You cannot.
You want proof we believe in good works? Try to join our church without them. Offer us a thousand pounds—we’ll turn you down unless your life shows clear evidence of godliness. Slip in somehow and start living in sin? You’ll be gone within a week. The pastor and deacons will hear about it, and we will have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness.
Our church discipline is the loudest answer to the slander.
So to every honest heart we say: we have proved our case.
But to you hypocrites who wear Christ’s name while living in sin, we leave you with this word ringing in your ears: “Unless you have the Spirit of Christ, you are none of His.” If you do not live like Christ in this world, you will never live with Christ in the next. If your heart is not made holy here, God will not make it holy at the judgment seat.
And to you, poor sinner—who know you have no goodness, no good works, nothing to bring— Come to Jesus just as you are! Believe on Him, and He will wash you whiter than snow, give you a new heart, clothe you with His righteousness, and from that moment on your life will be marked by growing holiness. He will keep you to the end, and you will be eternally saved.
May God use this word to awaken some who are living in sin and to comfort every trembling believer—for Jesus’ sake. Amen.
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