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.

109. The notion that Christ’s righteousness or merit is assigned to us permeates the entire theological system in today’s Protestant Christian world. It is because of this assigning that our faith (which Protestant Christianity takes to be the sole means of being saved) can be referred to as our righteousness before God; see §11 d. The assigning that happens as a result of our faith clothes us with the gifts of righteousness, much as a newly crowned monarch is adorned with royal insignia.

In reality, however, this assigning accomplishes nothing if all it involves is that we are called righteous. It does no work within us; it only flows into our ears, unless this assigning of righteousness includes an actual transfer of righteousness to us through some process of its being shared with us and incorporated into us. This conclusion follows from the list of things that are claimed to be the effects of this assigning: our sins are forgiven, and we are regenerated, renewed, sanctified, and therefore saved. This claim is clearer still from the fact that Christ is said to dwell in us and the Holy Spirit is said to work in us as a result of that faith; and therefore we are not only considered to be righteous but actually are righteous. It is not just the gifts of God that reside in the reborn, but because of their faith, Christ too and in fact the entire holy Trinity dwells in them as his temple; see §15 l. Both we as people and the works we do should be called, and should be, completely righteous; see §14 e.

From these points it undoubtedly follows that “the assigning of Christ’s righteousness” must mean an actual transfer of righteousness to us through some process of its being incorporated into us, through which we become a partaker in it.

Now, because this concept of assigning is the root, the start, and the foundation of faith and of all the work faith does for our salvation, and because it is therefore the sanctuary and shrine at the center of all Christian church buildings today, it is important to add as an appendix [to this work] an examination of this notion of assigning, presented point by point as follows.

1. After we die we are all assigned either blame for the evil or else credit for the goodness to which we have devoted ourselves.

2. It is impossible to incorporate one person’s goodness into another person.

3. Given that this is impossible, it is an imaginary faith to believe that Christ’s righteousness or merit is assigned to or transferred into us.