71. Brief Analysis

In Matthew we read,

The disciples came to Jesus and showed him the buildings of the Temple. Jesus said to them, “Truly, I say to you, not one stone will be left here on another that will not be thrown down.” The disciples said to him, “Tell us, when will these things be? Especially, what will be the sign of your Coming and of the close of the age?” (Matthew 24:1, 2, 3)

Today, learned clergy and well-educated lay people think that “the destruction of the Temple” refers to the Temple’s destruction by Vespasian. They take “the Coming of the Lord” and “the close of the age” to mean the end or the death of this world. “The destruction of the Temple,” however, refers not only to the Temple’s destruction by Romans but also to the destruction of the church of today. “The close of the age” and the ensuing “Coming of the Lord” mean the end of the existing church and the establishment of a new church by the Lord. That whole chapter from beginning to end makes it clear that these terms have such a meaning; the sole topic is the successive states of decline and corruption within the Christian church leading up to its death, when it meets its end.

In a narrow sense, “the Temple” means the Temple in Jerusalem. In a broad sense, it means the Lord’s church. In a broader sense, it means the angelic heaven. In the broadest sense, it means the Lord’s human manifestation (see Revelation Unveiled 529). “The close of the age” means the end of the church; the end comes when the teaching from the Word has no truth left in it that has not been falsified and used up (see Revelation Unveiled 658, 676, 750). “The Coming of the Lord” means his Coming in the Word and his establishing a new church in place of the former church that has come to an end; this is clear from the Lord’s words in the same chapter (Matthew 24:30– 34) and in the two final chapters in the Book of Revelation (Revelation 21 and 22). In the last chapter there we read the following:

I, Jesus, am the Root and the Offspring of David, the bright and morning star. The spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And those who hear, say, “Come!” And those who are thirsty, come. “Yes, I am coming quickly.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! (Revelation 22:17, 20)

46. Brief Analysis

Surely every group of religious and reasonable people on the face of the earth knows and believes that there is one God; that doing good things is being with God; that doing evil things goes against God; that we must apply our own soul, heart, and powers to doing what is good and not doing what is evil, even though these faculties and abilities actually flow into us from God; and that the religious life consists in doing all the above. Surely everyone can see, then, that to confess three persons within the Divine and to declare that salvation has nothing to do with good works is to remove religious life from the church.

The Protestant assertion that salvation has nothing to do with good works is made in the following passages. Faith makes us just apart from good works; see §12 a, b. Good works are not necessary either for our salvation or for our faith, because salvation and faith are not preserved or maintained by our good works; see §12 g, h, l, m. Therefore there is no bond that unites faith and good works.

If we go back to the assertion that good works nevertheless spontaneously follow faith like fruit issuing forth from a tree — see §13 k, m — then we must ask this: Who does these good works? In fact, who would bother thinking about them or feel spontaneously moved to do them when they know and believe that these works contribute nothing to their salvation, and that none of us on our own can do any good for our own salvation, and so on?

If someone asserts that Protestants do nonetheless unite good works to their faith, I reply that if you deeply examine that union, you find that it is not actually a uniting but rather an appending of good works to faith. Good works are an appendage that is tacked on; they are not an integral part or even securely attached. They are like the shadows that are added to a painting to make it look more realistic. Religious practice, though, has to do with our lives; it consists in good works that we do in accordance with the truths taught by our faith. Clearly, then, religious practice is not in actuality an appendage; it is the thing itself.

To many people, though, living a religious life is like a horse’s tail; you can remove it if you want, because it serves no purpose. Who could come to any other reasonable conclusion from statements such as the following when taken at face value?

It is foolish to dream that the works enjoined by the second tablet of the Ten Commandments make us just before God; see §12 d.

Any who believe they will gain salvation because they do acts of goodwill are insulting Christ; see §12 e.

Good works must be completely excluded from any discussion of our justification and eternal life; see §12f.

There are many other such statements there as well.

When we go on to read that good works necessarily follow faith, and that if they do not follow faith, our faith is false and not true (see §13 o, p, v, and many other passages), who among us pays any attention to this? Or if we do pay attention to it, do we do good works consciously? Because good works that somehow flow out of us when we are unaware of them are surely as lifeless as if they had been done by a statue.

If we look more deeply into the cause of this teaching, we find that the leading reformers first assumed faith alone as their standard dogma in order to be differentiated from Roman Catholics, as I mentioned above (§§21, 22, 23). Later on they attached acts of goodwill so as not to go against Sacred Scripture and so that their denomination would be viewed as a religion and something wholesome.