Reformation Sunday
Romans 3:19-28
I’ve got a giant scale up here this morning. Did you notice? I want us to consider justice this morning, and what it takes to achieve justice. In some regards, to be just is to be fair, right? For example, if I was given candy to share with you, it would be expected that I would divide the candy fairly. One piece for me, and one piece for you. A second piece for me, and a second piece for you. We could use the scale with my pieces on one side and yours on the other. So long as I divided the candy fairly, or justly, the scale would be balanced. That’s a simple example of justice.
We know how this works from a very early age. If you grew up with a sibling, I’m willing to bet you gave the complaint, “It’s not fair!” numerous times before you even made it to kindergarten.
So, what if I give myself an extra piece of candy? And what if I eat my candy before anything can be done about it? Well, justice says I owe you an apology. Justice says I need to balance the scale somehow. Maybe I need to use my money to buy candy for you. Maybe I need to do something for you to make up for what I took unfairly. Justice means I need to make up the difference. I need to balance the scale.
We expect fairness, or justice, in all areas of life. If I buy a Double Double at In-N-Out, I’ll exchange cash for my burger. A sense of justice demands that the food I receive is worth the money I pay. If I’m in a car accident, and the accident was someone else’s fault… I expect them to pay for the damage to my car. I expect the other driver to pay any medical bills as well. That’s justice.
In the back of our minds – whether we’re conscious of it, or not – we constantly gauge our place in the world in terms of justice. Have I paid my debts? Do I trust the people around me to meet their obligations? Or, do I feel guilty because I know I’ve messed up and I owe something to another person? Am I upset because I feel wronged, and that means someone else owes me? When the scales of justice are out-of-balance we either feel guilty or we feel slighted.
We desire justice in our relationships with other people. We also bring this expectation into our relationship with God. This is fitting, because God is just. However, attempting to balance our scales with God is where we find ourselves in trouble.
Think about this: God is the creator of this world. He’s given us a world perfectly suited to human life. God is the provider of all we have – whether you think you’ve got a lot or a little, it’s all from him. I believe that God has given me “my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my members, my reason and all my senses, and still takes care of them. He also gives me clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home, wife and children, land, animals, and all I have. He richly and daily provides me with all that I need to support this body and life.” (that’s from the Small Catechism) Plus, God is the source of life itself. That’s a lot on one side of the scale. In fact, that’s more than we can imagine.
Still, you and I try to do the right things, because justice demands that we try to balance the scales. So, we go to church. We’re nice to other people – as often as we can muster the humility. We serve others… sometimes. We start to wonder… did I do enough? Did I do enough good to even begin moving toward justice?
Sometimes we console ourselves, or at least, we try to. I hear it when we talk about others – especially when someone has passed away. I’ll meet with family and hear how so-and-so was a good person. I’ll ask about their relationship with Jesus, and the family will start telling me all the good things they did for neighbors and friends. Maybe they even volunteered at church now and then. Or, maybe they attended church sometimes. These are all attempts to balance the scale. We don’t say it so bluntly, but we know justice demands that the good outweigh the bad. We know God’s gifts to us demand that we reciprocate, so we try to comfort ourselves by recalling the good our loved ones have done.
This justice thing is difficult. It’s a difficulty people wrestle with all the time. Balancing the scales of life is a problem in the back of people’s minds whether or not they’ve ever heard of God or the Bible. Human beings have an innate sense that there is such a thing as justice, and yet we also have doubts deep within our hearts as to whether or not our own scales will balance.
God is our helper in this… but how? Answering that is crucial, yet it’s easy for people to get this wrong. At various times, even teachers in the church have clouded the answer. At the time of Martin Luther, lots of explanations for how God helps us were, well, not helpful. Luther was taught that through his life, death, and resurrection, Jesus had amassed a storehouse of “merits.” These were available to people who believed in Jesus. In other words, Jesus’ good deeds could be used to balance your scales.
BUT, how did you get those merits? That became the question. To many people it was obvious that super-Christians like monks and nuns who had forsaken so many comforts in favor of a holy life would receive these gifts. High ranking priests and others deemed “holy” should certainly receive from Jesus. What about everyone else? There were all kinds of explanations developed, but they were primarily built on human reason, they were people’s best guesses.
Because of this clouded understanding of what Jesus had done, and what it meant for all people, Luther read the Bible expecting to fall short; wondering about his own scales. Earlier we read from Romans. Luther struggled with those verses and their reference to the “righteousness of God.” Righteousness means to come out on the right side of the scales of justice. Luther read “righteousness of God” and he imagined God’s righteousness as the standard against which you and I, and all people, and Luther himself would be judged. To help us understand the idea, it’s like this:
Here’s the righteousness of God.
[put a cinder block on one side of the scale]
How are you going to balance this scale? God’s righteousness is on one side. Let’s put your righteousness on the other side. Well, what have you done that’s in your favor? You came to church today. That’s a start.
[place a grain of rice on the other side of the scale]
Oh, but you said some things the other day which weren’t kind. I guess we’ll have to take this away.
[remove the grain of rice]
This is how Luther understood God’s righteousness. He talked about wrestling with the section of Romans we read earlier. Here’s what he said in his own words:
I hated the expression “righteousness of God,” for through the tradition and practice of all the doctors I had been taught to understand it philosophically, as the so-called “formal”—or, to use another word, “active” —righteousness through which God is just and punishes sinners and the unjust. But I could not love the righteous God, the God who punishes. I hated him… I was very displeased with God, if not in secret blasphemy, then certainly with mighty grumbling, and said: should it not be enough for miserable sinners eternally damned by original sin to be oppressed by all sorts of calamity through the law of the Ten Commandments? Must God add suffering to suffering even through the Gospel and also threaten us with His righteousness and His wrath through the Gospel too? …
When the gospel becomes an opportunity to earn what Christ has won on the cross, it is no longer any gospel at all. Gospel means “good news.” If I say you can earn merit by proving yourself before God, that’s not good news at all. It’s terrible news! God’s righteousness stands against you and I in that scenario. It sits against us on one side of the scale, and we have nothing to place on our side. How could you or I ever earn something from the perfect God? Could we ever be good enough? Could we ever do enough good?
Just think about the good of being here in worship. That is something good you’ve done, right? Are you pleased with yourself for coming to church? That’s pride. Did you come this morning because somebody made you do it? If so, it rather tarnishes any good involved. Did you come this morning because if you didn’t you would feel guilty? That makes it less good too. Or, did you come because coming to church makes you feel good? Doing things so that you can feel good is rather self-serving; it’s selfish.
In fact, while you’ve been here earning yourself some good credit by being in church, how attentive have you been? Has your mind drifted? Did you dislike one of the songs or something said this morning? While listening to me preach, have you entertained some plans for what you might do later today? All of this can happen – and each of us makes it happen to ourselves – even while we’re here doing something we thought might count toward our righteousness! It seems even our righteous deeds fall short.
Thankfully, that’s not how it works. Thankfully, there truly is good news for you and I. Thankfully, there was good news within the word of God, and Dr. Luther eventually saw it, even through the confusion of medieval scholastic theology. Thankfully, the word of God is living and active, and it speaks truth to those who will listen. Thankfully, the “righteousness of God” is not a thing to be feared or despised. Let me continue with Luther’s story, and allow his words to lead us forward in discovery:
I pondered incessantly, day and night, until I gave heed to the context of the words, namely: “For [in the Gospel] is the righteousness of God revealed, as it is written: ‘The just shall live by faith.'” Then I began to understand the righteousness of God as a righteousness by which a just man lives as by a gift of God, that means by faith. I realized that it was to be understood this way: the righteousness of God is revealed through the Gospel, namely the so-called “passive” righteousness we receive, through which God justifies us by faith through grace and mercy. …
In his recollection, Luther used the words “active righteousness” and “passive righteousness.” Here’s what he’s saying. He thought the righteousness of God referred to the active pursuit of righteousness on our part. God’s righteousness sat on one side of the scale, and we have to act in the right ways to somehow meet his standard and earn some of his righteousness. But, that’s not the gospel at all.
The righteousness of God is a passive gift. We don’t “do” anything to become righteous or balance our scales. By faith, we receive the righteousness of God. By faith, we receive the gifts Christ won by his life, death, and resurrection. By faith, the demands of justice are not only met – they are exceeded exponentially! God’s righteousness becomes your righteousness in Christ!
[move the cinder block from “God’s side” of the scale to “your side”]
This is the gospel. This is the good news! This was at the heart of the Reformation, and it stands at the heart of the faith we share in Jesus Christ. Luther finished his story like this:
Now I felt as if I had been born again: the gates had been opened and I had entered Paradise itself.
This is your story too! It’s not up to you to balance the scales. You receive all you need from your Savior. Jesus did live, die, and rise again in order to make you righteous. But, you don’t earn his righteousness bit-by-bit. He gives you all, and he gives freely.
Righteousness is given to all who admit they cannot do it themselves. Righteousness is given to you by faith in Jesus. This is his gift!
You don’t do good in order to become righteous. You’re made righteous and you do the good which follows. You don’t come to worship to balance your scales. You come here and admit you can’t, and you allow Christ to do what you cannot. He gives you his righteousness. He takes care of the scales for you.
By faith alone you are justified.
By grace alone God does this for you.
By God’s Word alone you know this is true.
By Christ alone you live and serve and bear witness and love in this world and in eternity.
Amen.
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