Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller. The Charitable. Photo: gallerix.org
Fire naturally creates smoke. It is also used to make metal pliable. The smoke itself doesn’t shape the metal, but simply accompanies and signifies a burning fire that is responsible for both effects. Those who believe in the Protestant doctrine of sola fide (or faith alone) want you to believe that good works are to one’s salvation what smoke is to metal. Good works are epiphenomenal to—or automatic by products of—faith, and it is only the latter that is causally responsible for one’s salvation.
But what is one to make of verses like Matthew 16:25–27, where Christ tells us that God will “reward each according to his works,” and that in the absence of good works, he “loses his own soul”? If such verses don’t conflict with sola fide, they certainly contradict another Protestant doctrine: the perspicuity of Scripture. This is the teaching that the Bible is sufficiently clear on matters pertaining to salvation. But how does the Bible clearly teach that faith alone saves when the exact opposite is asserted in James 2:14, and Jesus is recorded as saying that “those who have done good” will “come forth ... to the resurrection of life” (John 5:29)?
Here are two alternative experiments that you can perform on a group of friends, or ChatGPT if you don’t have the time (or friends), and are willing to accept the spiritual risks of using AI.1 First, share the following modification of James 2:14 (“What does it profit, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can faith save him?”):
What good is it if someone has A but does not have B? Can A help him achieve C?
Then ask whether this reads like a rhetorical question whereby A is understood to be insufficient for achieving C. My guess is that most, if not all, of them would (as ChatGPT did in my case) answer in the affirmative.
Alternatively, ask your friends to ponder the following statement, which is formally different from, but logically akin to, John 5:29:
Where there is smoke, metal will bend, and where there is no smoke, metal will not bend.
Then ask them whether this statement implies the belief (correct or otherwise) that smoke is what causes metal to bend. Here, again, one should expect an overwhelmingly affirmative response. “Yes,” according to ChatGPT, “the statement implies a belief (correct or otherwise) that smoke is causally related to metal bending, even if it doesn’t explicitly state the causal relationship.”
In both cases, one quickly discovers that the perspicuity of Scripture can never be reconciled with sola fide. If good works aren’t causally responsible for one’s salvation, then the Bible is most definitely not perspicuous about what it takes to be saved, as there are numerous passages that assert the contrary. We put souls at risk by denying the simple truth that both faith and works matter.2
How, Exactly, Are Works Necessary?
But in what sense do works matter? Protestants tend to think that the only way that works can be salvifically relevant is if they merit salvation. But since we can’t earn salvation, it must follow that works are irrelevant (they are, at best, only a byproduct or a sign of saving faith). Here I invoke the analogy of marital love—a fitting analogy given the Scriptural image of God as bridegroom—to explain why this conclusion is flawed. I don’t deserve my wife. However, as the dialogues below illustrate, it’s absurd to conclude that it’s unnecessary to perform works of love in order to keep her.
Wife: “Can you take out the trash?”
Husband: “I technically can, but I’d rather watch this YouTube instructional video on breakdancing.”
Wife: “You forgot our anniversary.”
Husband: “Oopsie doopsie. So, what’s for dinner?”
Wife: “Where were you last night?”
Husband: “Crashed at my coworker’s place. She’s, like, soooooooo... You gotta see her!”
Wife: “I’m leaving you.”
Husband: “What? Why?”
Wife: “You haven’t worked at our marriage.”
Husband: “Work at our marriage? It’s not like I can earn you by working at our marriage. I can never deserve you! So, isn’t it enough that I publicly acknowledge you as my wife and lover?”3
Many Protestants will acknowledge, of course, that works are important. But they insist that these are only signs—not preconditions—of salvation. They imagine that good works are the automatic byproduct of a saving faith. But do works of love always flow naturally from certain beliefs about one’s wife and marriage? Despite what popular culture implicitly teaches us, love is not merely a romantic feeling—which, by its very nature, oscillates in strength and may even at times be replaced by contrary feelings—but a commitment to one’s spouse that is honored regardless of his or her feelings at a given moment. When you force yourself off the couch to help your wife move a ridiculously heavy object from one end of the living room to another—knowing that you will likely have to move it back again—you are performing a work of love that is necessary for a healthy marriage.
It is possible to “grow weary in doing good” (2 Thess. 3:13) in the spiritual life, as well. Throughout the New Testament, believers are exhorted to perform good works as if they have a choice over the matter. Note that Philippians 2:12 doesn’t read: “Watch with joy and assurance as your faith automatically produces good works.” Instead it reads: “Work out your salvation with fear and trembling...” It is almost as if St. Paul is telling “God’s holy people” in Philippi (1:1) that they have a choice over whether they will (in addition to having faith in Christ) work, and that they ought to tremble with fear at the prospect of choosing poorly.
A Final Objection: Does the Thief on the Cross Negate the Importance of Good Works?
As a college professor, I lay out a normative path to success in each of my courses’ syllabi. But suppose a student deviates from that path through no fault of his own. For example, imagine that he missed an exam for a reason that isn’t covered on the syllabus, but one that I otherwise find acceptable. Although I could follow the letter of the syllabus by giving him a zero, I’d be justified in following the spirit of the syllabus by mercifully granting an exception to that student and permitting him to take the exam at a later time (after all, the syllabus is made for the student, not the student for the syllabus—(cf. Mark 2:27).
In the Christian view, the normative path of salvation consists of faith and good works. “Faith without works and works without faith will both alike be condemned,” wrote St. Diadochos of Photiki.4 Nevertheless, some say that the thief on the cross contradicts the necessity of the latter. Are they correct?
First off, we know little about the thief’s past. Is it possible that he performed good works, as well as bad, prior to his crucifixion? Let’s suppose, for argument’s sake, that the Bible’s silence on this matter implies a negative response to this question. By that very logic, however, we must also conclude that he wasn’t baptized either. Thus, this solution raises a new problem: if baptism is necessary for the forgiveness of sins (e.g., Acts 2:38), how is it that the thief was saved?
If you can understand the concept of a merciful professor, you should also comprehend the reality of an all-merciful God. And just as my student should not despair of his grade if he happens to deviate from the normative path that he otherwise willed to follow, we shouldn’t despair of anyone’s eternal fate merely because he didn’t perfectly follow the normative path to salvation. However, it would be utterly foolish to take advantage of my mercifulness or God’s. Mercy does not negate the reality of a normative path. Therefore, Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart (Gal 6:9).
Faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead (James 2:17).
