The Nature of Justification

If you have a copy of God’s Word,  please turn to Luke 18, the Gospel of Luke, the 18th chapter.

These Sunday evenings we are addressing the subject of the doctrine of justification. I was saying to the college-and-career group this morning that there is a tendency within even God’s people that if you were to announce, “I’m going to preach on the person and work of Christ,” they just nod their head, shrug their shoulders. If I was to say, or someone was to say, “I’m going to preach a series on angelology,” all curiosities are piqued and people are wondering what’s going to be said, excited to attend, and maybe even talking about it.

The Bible says very little about one subject, and the other one, the whole theme of God’s Word, is focused there. And I think, given that God has given the focus on the personal work of the Messiah, then we should find joy in that same subject. It’s not that there isn’t help in other subjects, but just be careful. And I think it is a little check upon the heart, isn’t it, when we mention some subject and there’s this excitement because it might seem peculiar or there are very few sermons on the subject. We need to be careful and find excitement in the heart of the message of God’s redeeming love.

And when it comes to the subject then of Christ, in his person and in his work, perhaps there’s no more vital doctrine to address than the one of justification. There are many important subjects, of course, relating to his person and his deity and so on and so forth. But when it comes to you as a sinner, your question is, How can I be right before God? How can I be right before God?

So tonight, as we continue in this theme, Luke 18 will lay the text before us that we want to consider. I’m going to read from verse 9, Luke 18 verse 9, and hear the Lord Jesus bring a parable into view before a particular audience in mind. Look at Luke 18 verse 9, and he spake this parable unto certain which trusted in themselves that they were righteous and despised others.

“Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all that I possess. And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God, be merciful to me a sinner. I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.”

Amen. We’ll end the reading at verse 14. This is the inerrant and fallible word of the living God, which you are to receive, believe, and where necessary, obey. And the people of God said, amen.

Let’s pray. Again, Lord, we simply ask for help. We’ve been encouraged in our singing, reminded of the God that thou art to thy people. We thank thee that many here tonight can say, it is well with my soul. And this they say in the confidence of the sufficient work of Christ. Our prayer tonight would be that such would be further encouraged and that those who cannot as yet say that would be able to say it before they go home. They would be able to say, “When I walked in here that night, it was not well with my soul; but when I left, it was well with my soul.” Oh God, give light and understanding. Send the Holy Spirit. Give help; we’re so weak. We’re glad for the paradox that thy strength is made perfect in weakness. Therefore we embrace our weakness and cast ourselves upon the strength of our gracious God. Give the Holy Spirit then. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.

We come to the third message in this series. At the outset we considered the need for justification, putting before us the reminder that man and his condition requires this mercy of God—justifying the ungodly—that even our righteousnesses are filthy rags in His presence. The last time we came to this subject, we looked at the foundation of justification in that God has graciously given a promise, which by faith alone we receive the benefits included in that promise. And that has been the case from all the way back in the Old Testament, right up to the present, and always will be the case: that for a man to be justified before God, it is found in the promise given by God— a man taking God at His Word, believing Him, and therein he is found to be justified.

Now we ask the question, Well, what is it? What really is this justification? What is its nature, if you like? How are we to understand what this is? We’ve read tonight from Luke 18, in which from verses 9 through 14 we are given a parable, a parable that brings into view two men with two prayers and two outcomes. One, of course, is a Pharisee, and the other is a penitent tax collector. They’re both in the temple. They go at the time of prayer. They go and find themselves at the same time in the same place for the same purpose—that is to pray.

And the Pharisee, a respected religious leader no doubt, meticulous in all of his manner and conduct, endeavoring to keep the law as was required by the sect of the Pharisees, boasts here of his fasting and of his tithing, and leans in with confidence upon his own accomplishments. The tax collector, on the other hand—one who was despised by the Jewish society in which he lives—stands far off, unwilling even to lift his eyes to heaven, feeling himself so unclean, and beats upon his chest, crying, “God, be merciful to me a sinner.”

Now, if you look at the Pharisee’s prayer closely—look at verse 11—look what he says. “The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank Thee that I am not as other men are.” Here he makes comparison: extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. “I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all that I possess.” When he looks and compares himself to others, he focuses not on anything that may be seen as a quality or a good in them; rather he focuses upon that which is negative. He sees in others—he compares himself with the darkest of sins in those around him: those who commit extortion, those who commit injustice, those who are guilty of adultery, the shame of being a tax collector. He compares himself to the worst.

And then, when he looks at himself for the positive things, again he’s not looking at the positive in others. But when he looks at himself in the positive and tries to express before God how good he is, he boasts of that which is really minor: “I fast twice in the week.” This is a minor thing because God didn’t require it. It was voluntary. It was not something that God demanded. And he focuses then on this, as well as tithing, which was common practice at that time. These are the things that he thinks set him apart. And yet many wretched people were given to fasting, and many of the worst, as well as the best, were given to tithing. So when he looks at himself and tries to find that which might be seen as commendable before God, he trusts in that which is trivial—and he is utterly blind to his need for God’s mercy, unlike the tax collector who is fully conscious and in need of grace.

Tax collectors, as I say, were reviled—reviled. They were seen as some of the worst in society, collaborating with the enemy, those Roman oppressors, living as moral outcasts. But they were, if you’re trying to find a social equivalent in our day, like how prostitution is still largely regarded in our society today.

To a Jewish audience, the idea that such a sinner could be righteous before God while a Pharisee, given to his religion with great commitment, was set aside or overlooked by God was impossible to fathom. Their expectation is that the law-abiding Pharisee whose works align with the outward expressions of the Torah’s demands, in contrast to a traitor, would evidently be elevated. Obviously, he is the one that God prefers.

And yet, verse 14 tells us the true judgment of the matter. “I tell you that this man, the tax collector, went down to his house justified rather than the other.” Now you have to be there and surrounded by the context to fully comprehend the shock value of what the Lord Jesus says here. It’s nearly impossible for us to understand that, but let me try to help you imagine.

Imagine, for example, today a corrupt politician, notorious for taking bribes and exploiting the vulnerable, and he finds himself in a church. There where there’s also a respectable pastor of First Presbyterian of whatever city or town. And there they are. And what you observe then is the Lord declaring the politician righteous because of a humble plea for mercy, while rejecting the pastor with his lifelong labor within his community—yet proud of his accomplishment; he is seen as the one not justified.

Now, if you were there, if you were sitting in the presence of such, and you had this politician and you had this pastor, and Jesus came into the midst and said, “The politician is going home justified, not the pastor”—if you knew both of them, knew what they were known for—the pastor’s been a pastor for 25 years in this city; he’s led on all sorts of philanthropic efforts and humanitarian aid; he does a lot of good; he’s very kind—then the politician comes in. Jesus says, “That man goes home justified.” You wouldn’t believe it. That’s the context of the parable. That’s the setting.

And Jesus is impressing then upon those—again, those He’s aiming for in verse 9—those who trust in themselves that they were righteous and despise others. Those two factors are at play. So, I want us to use then verse 14, and the language the Lord gives here as our text: “This man went down to his house justified rather than the other,” because I want that to be true of you. And everyone here leaves going home knowing that there’s been a pronouncement by God concerning you: you’re justified. Whatever may be true of others, you’re justified.

So let’s consider then the nature of justification. And note three main headings. We’ll see: I. A verdict declared; II. An imputation doubled; and III. A gift dispensed.

I. A verdict declared. When you read this language—“this man went down to his house justified rather than the other”—there is a verdict being pronounced. There’s two things about this verdict we want to consider. First of all, it is a forensic act. It is a forensic act. It’s legal. And we touched on this before. There’s going to be a little overlap in these sermons, touching on things, but I’m trying to keep them distinct as well, though it’s impossible to keep them entirely distinct.

But it’s a forensic act. You see it there: he went home or went to his house justified. The term “justify” in God’s Word is to declare righteous. Now again, in the context—verse 9—the parable is spoken to those who trust by their own evaluation that they’re justified, that they’re righteous. But what is necessary is God’s evaluation—what He has pronounced, what legally is true—that such are justified.

This act of justification—this legal standing—is borrowed from the courtroom, borrowed from the scene of a judge making a pronouncement in which a judge justifies someone: he declares them innocent or in right standing in relation to the law. And that’s the sense of the word and the language and the argument. We see it in other parts of God’s Word. For example, when you think of judges in Israel, in Deuteronomy 25 verse 1, they’re commanded to “justify the righteous and condemn the wicked.” Justify the righteous. The point is: declare them just. Condemn the wicked. Pronounce them as such. They’re making an assessment. They’re making a legal verdict—an argument that here’s one who’s just versus those who are wicked.

And so the argument that justification in some way is anything beyond that is wrong. It’s dealing with something legal. It’s nothing to do with the inward character. When the judge pronounces that, he’s not looking morally at the state of the heart; he’s looking at something else—at the facts of the case—and making a pronouncement based upon the charge: has he broken the law? In Proverbs 17:15 we read, “He that justifieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just, even they both are abomination to the LORD.”

So in human justice, declaring a wicked person righteous is abhorrent because it’s not true. It’s not true. So when God looks at a sinner—and you think of this man who’s a sinner—and yet He declares that he is just, the question arises in your mind: how is that possible? If Proverbs 17:15 says it’s an abomination to justify the wicked—and the publican is a wicked man—and yet he is pronounced just or justified, how is that so? That’s the question.

This is what God does for sinners in the gospel. In the gospel, He, through Christ, is able to justify the ungodly. The basis for that justice, for that pronouncement, for that legal standing, is the person and work of Christ. The key point is to understand that to justify one refers to making a legal declaration, a change of status before God, but it’s not about an inner transformation. The tax collector hadn’t changed all that much except in the recognition of his sin and in his prayer. But there hadn’t been—I am sure—any massive change in his outward conduct. He’s still referred to as a publican. But he goes home justified.

This is what the gospel’s about: pronouncing the guilty justified before God because of the merit of another. When Paul writes of justification, when he argues for the confidence of the believer in Romans 8, he speaks, “Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God’s elect? It is God that justifieth.” If that were understanding something inner about the character—finding something about themselves—who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? You would always find something to condemn, always.

But the argument stands by the apostle: “Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God’s elect? It is God that justifieth.” This proves that justification is a verdict. It is a legal act. It is forensic. It’s God pronouncing something upon someone, not change within the heart.

Now keep that in mind because that becomes relevant as we proceed through the message. The point for now is simply to understand that this is how one is found right before God: God making a pronouncement, not they themselves, not trusting in themselves that they’re righteous, but something being declared about them.

During the Reformation, those theologians of that era would refer, using the Latin term, that justification is extra nos—it’s outside of oneself. That the justification of the ungodly is outside of the individual. It’s referred to then as “alien,” because it’s found in Christ, not in themselves. So it’s a forensic act. It’s also a distinct act. It’s distinct.

When there is a justification of the ungodly, it is distinct from something else that begins to happen. There’s a change that occurs in the believer. When you come to Christ, you become a partaker of the divine nature. You become a child of God, and you begin to walk in the Spirit and not fulfill the lusts of the flesh. In so doing, there is a transformation that begins to occur: a process of becoming more holy.

But what is vital—and I underline this; this will come up again—is the distinction that you are not to conflate in any respect God’s legal pronouncement and the ongoing change that occurs from the new life that is experienced in the Christian.

You can describe these contrasts in a number of ways. We can consider it in this way: it is a legal standing versus an inner transformation. One is a legal standing; one is an inner transformation.

Justification is a change of legal status, as was said. How God views you is different. It is an act in which God, as judge, pronounces something concerning you: you’re now just. The guilt of sin is removed.

Sanctification is what we term the inward change. It’s distinct. It transforms. The inner character is changed. It makes us more holy. God works in us, as Philippians 2 says, both to will and to do of His good pleasure. There is a dying unto sin and a living unto righteousness.

These things occur within the genuine believer, but they’re distinct and they must be kept distinct; otherwise you’ll make shipwreck. It’s not only a distinction between legal standing and an inner transformation, but there’s a distinction in the sense that one is instantaneous and complete; the other is progressive, at least in this life, incomplete.

So whenever the Lord pronounced upon that publican that he is justified, it’s a one-time thing. It was complete there. He could not be more justified. He could not be less justified. That pronouncement is made and is complete. It is instantaneous, and nothing else needs to be said about the matter. This is his standing now.

Whereas sanctification, that which follows, is progressive. It’s ongoing. It keeps developing. We keep learning new areas that need to be conquered by grace—discovering that sin in certain places is still a battle, or other things we never saw were problematic before. And we learn, “Oh, I’ve been disobeying God,” and you begin to repent and seek His grace to obey.

God’s Word everywhere shows this distinction. In the third place, there’s a distinction between the removal of guilt and the removal of pollution. Justification removes the guilt. The judge has said, “I’m free.” And the guilt that once would have pronounced condemnation goes because the condemnation is gone—the guilt is gone. But there is still the pollution: the fight, the battle, the flesh lusting against the spirit—the ongoing warfare where you still feel the power of temptation, and you know that the devil still can come to you, and at times works to draw you away and do that which you ought not.

This was the struggle of the Apostle Paul: “The good that I would I do not; but the evil which I would not, that I do.” He finds this battle in his members. “When I would do good, evil is present with me.” And so there’s a constant fight going on, but there’s a distinction between the removal of guilt and the removal of pollution.

The publican received instant acquittal. “This man went down to his house justified.” He went there from the place of prayer in the temple. He walked out that door a justified man. And this is what we say to you: this is true, and that’s what I hope for you tonight—that every single person here can walk out that door, leave this place, and go home with the same pronouncement. It’s not only possible; it is encouraged. The Lord Jesus beckons you to come to Him. He encourages you to take this gift of salvation from His hand. He reaches it out to all. He reaches it to you and says, “Take the gift. Don’t neglect the gift. Don’t walk away from the gift.” I will pronounce you justified. Your life can change today. You can go home with this pronouncement in a moment where you’re whole standing before God instead of being one riddled with guilt and shame about your past—about all your experiences. They can all be dealt with legally.

Oh, there’s still the repercussions. We still feel the horror of our past experiences and our past sins. They cling to us, don’t they? And sometimes they’re resurrected in our minds. Even David, even the man after God’s own heart—you find him on one occasion making reference to the sins of his youth. The more mature man still at times thinks upon, mulls over, the sins of days of youth. They hadn’t completely gone. Oh, he was justified. He had a legal standing before God in which he was set free from the condemnation of those sins of youth, but they still came to his mind. They stick like mud to the memory of the individual. So we lament at times sins of youth. But you go home justified.

What ultimately matters on the day of judgment is not how much confidence I possess in my standing, but what God says. And what the Lord Jesus says concerning this man, this publican who was despised by everyone around him—there wasn’t a person in that community that would have credited to him anything worthy, anything that would say, “Here’s an upstanding member of society.” He was an outcast. He was despised, hated, rejected. Jesus says, “That’s the justified one.” That can be you. Maybe you know what it’s like to be an outcast. Maybe you know what it’s like to be alienated from society, from community, from family. No—what we have here is a verdict declared. A verdict is declared, and this is very important.

In response to the Protestant Reformation, the Catholic Church came together. I’ve mentioned this before, but I will draw from it frequently through this series: the Council of Trent. It was the Roman Catholic Church’s response to the newfound liberty that had been resurrected through the preaching—the plain preaching—of the gospel.

And now men everywhere are running around with Bible in hand and saying, “I’m free. I’m justified, just like this man. I looked and I live. Jesus Christ has called me, if any man thirsts, let him come unto me and drink.” And you become a participant in the eternal life He bestows. And so you get all these people running around preaching and sharing and evangelizing and communicating and teaching their children that through Jesus Christ—just Jesus Christ, only Jesus Christ—there is the sufficiency of what you need before God.

And so there’s a council. In session 6, chapter 10, here’s what they write: “Having therefore been thus justified, they, through the observance of the commandments of God and of the church, faith cooperating with good works, increase in that justice received through the grace of Christ and are further justified.” They are further justified. That’s the complete opposite of what I’ve said up to this point—the complete opposite. This man went home justified. No further justification needed. No additional statement or pronouncement necessary. It’s legal. When you find this word in God’s Word, it is referring to a legal pronouncement, not something that is a process. When a man is justified—when he is found just legally by the judge and pronounced such—he goes free. That’s the sense: the view of the Roman Catholic Church.

And again, this council was to come together and try to repudiate what came out of Martin Luther and Calvin and the rest of them. And this is the distinction: sometimes people read Calvin and Luther on the church, and some of their remarks of Calvin and Luther had a distant hope that the Roman Catholic Church could be reformed. There could be an appeal or a change that might occur. This is why, after they’re gone, the Council of Trent convenes and presents its arguments and details its doctrine, the doctrine of the church. In one sense, it makes the Roman Catholic Church worse than it was when Luther and Calvin and so on were opposing it, because they’re doubling down.

And here’s the thing that people miss. Since Trent, they have added further blots of falsehood to make the Roman Catholic Church and its doctrine even more at odds with the gospel than it was. If there is presented to you a need to be further justified—by your own works, further justified, cooperating with good works—you are on a lifelong treadmill of uncertainty concerning your true position before God. You don’t know. And this is why I hate it. It’s not the people—don’t get me wrong; don’t say I hate Roman Catholics—that is not true. That is not true. But I hate any distortion of the gospel because of the danger it brings to the souls of men.

I want this passage to be true of you. I want this experience to always be true: that someone can walk in here—this isn’t the temple, the Jewish temple, but it’s a place of worship—to walk in here and at any point in the service, at any point, they can smite their breast in recognition of their sin and cry, “God be merciful to me a sinner,” and go home justified. There’s such liberty there. I think of my 19-year-old heart seeing the gospel for the first time: in many respects seeing my sin for the first time as sin against God. I knew what sin was, but I’d never considered sin as sin against God—really—until the night of my conversion. That was when I began to see my sin, my wrongdoing, the things at times that bother me: the real problem with them is sin before God and the relief of the gospel.

My prayer was shorter than this man’s prayer. I remember asking my sister sometime afterwards, “What did I pray?” I had no recollection of what I prayed. I was sobbing over my sin. She said, “This is what you prayed: ‘God, save me.’” That was it. That was my prayer. God, save me. Not eloquent, not extensive. I had no clue. The only thing I recognized in that moment was I need to be saved. I need my sins forgiven.

And I walked out of that little car that was parked outside my home, walked out of that car, walked through the door to greet my mother who had been on her knees at the sofa pleading for my salvation, to embrace her with a hug like the prodigal and his father. I was justified, saved. I thank God I did not find myself in some place that told me, “Well, this is just the beginning of a journey of developing your justification—furthering your justification before God.” Perish the thought. You will not hear that here. And the day you do, nail the door shut.

A verdict declared. An imputation doubled. I’ll be very brief at this point. We will be coming back to this further and more extensively at another time. But just again, I’m trying to pepper you. There’s a certain intentionality to some of the things that I will repeat because when we get to the end I want it to be clear in your head. And one of the ways you develop clarity is by repetition—bringing things up carefully and, hopefully, strategically and not in a way that bores you.

II. An imputation doubled. It’s justification. This legal declaration has two sides. It has two sides. Get it into your heart. First, the imputation of our sins to Christ. This is what the gospel message is all about. “This man went home justified.” Why? Why? Because God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself. And the whole plan of redemption was to lay sin upon Him. Our sins are laid on Him. Read Isaiah 53. Read through the passage. Note the emphasis and the repetition of sin, transgression, iniquity being laid on the Messiah.

The servant of Jehovah came, and in His servitude was made sin for us who knew no sin. Our guilt is laid on Him. Our condemnation is laid on Him. All sin—not part, all sin—is laid on Jesus Christ. And so there is that imputation. But in the gospel, this is what God is doing. This is why it’s not an abomination for Him to justify the ungodly—because He laid the guilt on Christ. The charge is placed to Him. This is what David writes of when he talks of, “‘Blessed is the man,’ Psalm 32, ‘whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered,’” and he goes on to say, “‘Blessed is the one to whom the Lord will not impute sin,’” because there has been the imputation of sin to another, not onto themselves. The record is wiped clean. The sins are placed on Christ.

But also—and this is the other side of it—the imputation of Christ’s righteousness to the sinner. So this is what we’re saying. This is the message. I want you to hear me. The message I’m communicating—the message of the gospel, the good news—is good because here’s what it promises: that in believing God’s promise to save the sinner by looking to Jesus Christ alone for salvation, your sin is being placed on Christ, which He suffers for on the cross, and His obedience is given to you. You stand with a complete and perfect righteousness.

This is the argument of Paul over and over again, especially in Philippians 3. Philippians 3 is when he talks about what he used to boast at. It may be good to turn there. Go to Philippians 3 just so you see this and the vivid imagery that the apostle brings to our attention.

Philippians 3. Take the time to read him talking of his own: “Though I might also have confidence in the flesh”—I might, I might. If anyone was to have confidence, this is the idea; and that’s what he goes on to say, “If any other man thinketh that he hath whereof he might trust in the flesh, I more.” If there’s going to be an argument about trusting in yourself—that you’ve done enough—I am at the top of the pile of men who could make such a claim. Why? Well, look at me: circumcised the eighth day; my circumcision was not delayed. I was born into a Jewish family; I was circumcised on the eighth day. Of the stock of Israel; of the tribe of Benjamin—one of the good tribes, one of the more highly favored, respected tribes, one of the southern tribes. A Hebrew of the Hebrews; as touching the law, a Pharisee—that is really zealous about doing what was right or what was deemed to be right. Concerning zeal, persecuting the church—I put my money where my mouth was, as it were. I really lived out my faith. Touching the righteousness which is of the law, blameless: that what was expected, the outward expression of obedience—no charge of guilt could be pinned on me.

“What things were gained to me, those I counted lost for Christ.” I abandoned it all for Christ. “Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge”—that’s it: the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord—for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in Him. “Found in Him. Found in Him.” Why? Not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ—the righteousness which is of God by faith. Righteousness by faith. That’s the standing. He abandons it all. He thinks it all dung. He sets it all aside because he can gain a perfect righteousness by faith in Christ alone. The imputation—the crediting, the gifting of Christ’s obedience to the sinner—so that we possess a real positive righteousness before God.

Contrast that with—again—Trent, the Roman Catholic dogmas. Again, Session 6, Canon 11: “Either by the sole imputation of the justice of Christ or by the sole remission of sins to the exclusion of the grace and the charity which is poured forth in their hearts by the Holy Ghost and is inherent in them, let them be anathema.” So what they’re saying there is, if you say that this is sufficient—just this is sufficient—without the ongoing work necessary through the Holy Ghost, anathema. There’s no security here. There is no declaration. This one went home justified with such a view. I’ll say this, and I’ll say more about this when we come to deal with it more fully: the imputation of Christ’s righteousness to the sinner, received by faith alone, is the Achilles’ heel of the Roman Catholic Church and of any religion that credits our works as being necessary for salvation.

Think of it logically. Here we are, far from perfect. Here we are, nowhere near the perfection of God’s Son. And the gift of salvation, according to God’s Word, is this: all sin removed, paid for by Christ—not in part, in full. What are we going to charge God with? Causing a son to suffer in part for our sin? That a sacrifice in some way dealt with part of our problem but not all? Is there something more? Is another son of God necessary to die? Is further suffering required? What are we going to say about the sufficiency of His payment? And the same is true then of His obedience. What are we going to say concerning his obedience? Can it be added to? Can it be improved on? Can it be bettered? When, by faith, the sinner has their sin paid for in full by Christ and the righteousness of Christ given to him, you can’t improve on it. It is done, and that is why logically you conclude that justification is an act done immediately and not to be conflated with the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit that enables us to live more like Christ.

This is what that publican enjoyed.

III. A gift dispensed. There’s two things here. For this to be pronounced—if you go back to Luke 18—for it to be said, “This man went down to his house justified”—again, can I just pull you back into the context? This is the worst kind of person in the community. If I was to say to you, in your mind, think of the worst person within the county of Greenville—I’m not sure where your mind goes—but imagine the worst: the worst is this man. And Jesus said, in a moment, he is pronounced as one justified before God.

So that brings two things to mind. First, God justifies graciously. He justifies graciously. What did this man do? He acknowledged his sin and asked for mercy. No great performance—no giving of tithe, no fasting twice in the week—no great life of righteous deeds and sacrificial living for his community. No: he walks in there as a publican, and he’s still identified as a publican. “You’re the enemy,” the Pharisee is looking there saying, “What are you even doing here? How dare you even show your face in the temple? You’re a traitor.” Yet the Lord looks down and justifies him, and it’s all of grace. It is God who justifies. That’s Romans 8. It is God who justifies. It’s God who justifies, not man. It is God that justifieth. That’s what Paul says. It could not be plainer. It is God that justifieth. And it’s all gracious; it’s a gift. No works of man—no efforts received, as we saw last time—are the basis. It is based on the promise of God and God keeping His word to sinners throughout every generation who call on Him and receive the promise of His salvation by faith alone. It could not be a more glorious message.

It is saying then that this gift is dispensed to you graciously. You can have it now. It’s a gift to be received. I could not be up here telling you any happier or more glorious news than this, that God is reaching out in the gospel through the merit of His Son and saying to you, if you are not yet justified, be justified today. Be justified now. Have this position. Stand in this confidence.

Which brings us, secondly, that sinners are assured meaningfully. God not only justifies graciously; sinners are assured meaningfully. There’s a real, meaningful assurance to the sinner. God’s grace is magnified through such salvation because it’s so undeserved. We get no credit. You have to be okay with that, right? You have to be okay with getting no credit. Some of us—in fact, I would say all of us—have a natural bent to receive a little bit of credit. That’s what makes the gospel so difficult for people. It makes it difficult. It’s not something I have to do. Surely there’s something I have to do. It’s paradoxical. Surely God needs me to do something.

Remember one preacher explaining this to a woman—explaining to the woman that salvation was entirely by grace, completely without any merit on her own part, any works of her own. She said, “That means God could ask anything of me.” The preacher responded to her, “Are you aware of the fact that nearly everyone who hears this message responds differently? That they respond in terms of, ‘That means I can do anything I like; I can live how I please and I’m fine’?” That’s when they’re told that salvation is entirely gracious—an act of God with no contribution from them—that they can then go and do whatever they like.

This woman’s mind—she was thinking, “That means I am indebted. Entirely. He can ask anything of me.” And she was right. Oh, how she saw right through it. Because if you add a little, then you’re paying back debt. You’re paying back a little. If it’s something you have to do, then you can meet a standard and say, “Well, it’s like paying off your mortgage: you’re just paying back a little bit.” But if it’s entirely a gift, entirely gracious, and you can’t contribute a thing, and He bestows the standing of justification, you live indebted in a way that you can never repay. And He can ask anything of you. And the gospel does that. It actually does.

The conclusion of salvation is that those justified then say to the Master, to the Savior, to the Redeemer, the Lord Jesus, “Here’s my life, Lord. Here’s my life. I can never repay. So here’s my life.” Sinners are assured meaningfully. They have no doubt. They go to their home assured that the work is done.

This tax collector crying, “God be merciful to me a sinner,” needed no priest, no ritual performance. He just needed to cry for mercy. “Yes, not—you need this sacrament. You need to engage in this other work which the church requires of you.” No. And that’s what the scripture says, Romans 4: “To him that worketh not, but believeth on him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness.” And therefore, since my faith is counted for righteousness, I could not stand on a more assured foundation. I could not ask for a greater state of confidence. I need only believe. I’m not looking for further absolutions and other acts that might gain more favor with God—no. I go home acquitted, justified. That is the nature of justification. And that is what I want to reverberate through every heart here tonight.

The confidence, the assurance that God will, in a legal act and pronouncement, justify you when you believe in the Son. Believe in the Son. What are you believing about His Son? You’re believing things about who He is: this is the Son of God. You’re believing that He is different from others in the sense that He was not born a sinner the way we’re born a sinner. He was born of the Virgin Mary, and you believe it. You believe He lived His life in perfect obedience and submission to the Father. You believe He commenced His ministry with that impeccable obedience intact.

And though He was assaulted by the devil in his best efforts to pull Him down into sin, He remained unmovable in righteousness. He carried out His ministry; the words that Luke uses to summarize His life—“He went about doing good.” What was His life? It went about doing good: righteousness, obedience. And He embraced the will of the Father that He had to lay down His life for the guilty.

And so He set His face to go to Jerusalem knowing that when He would go there, He would be condemned—found guilty—even though no guilt could be found in Him, and that eventually He would be crucified. There upon that Roman cross He is, as it were, on an altar, sacrificed for sinners. All our guilt is laid on Him. The suffering He endures is not for any disobedience of His own. He’s not dying as a martyr. He’s dying as a propitiatory sacrifice. He’s dying as a substitute in the place of the guilty. He’s dying the just one in the place of the unjust ones, to bring the unjust ones to God. And that’s what He did. He paid the penalty. He died, entered and experienced death. The curse is all upon Him, and then He rises from the dead in victory, giving concrete evidence that the Father accepted the sacrifice.

Giving proof that it wasn’t merely dying as a martyr, but actually dying for sinners—and God said, “It is enough.” He rises from the dead in victory. The power of death has no hold over Him, and He promises then to sinners that if you believe on Me, this power of life will be yours. By faith you’re joined to Me, and you have life. And all your sins are washed away by the blood I shed, and all your need for righteousness is credited to you as a gift in the life that I lived for you.

By believing it—by the confession of sin and believing in the sufficiency of Jesus Christ—you can go home justified. Will you come? Have you any good reason to delay? This night here you can leave and go home justified. Let’s bow together in prayer. If you have any questions, I encourage you to come and speak with me or another mature Christian. Get those questions answered and get yourself to Christ. If you have no questions, you know what you have to do. You know. You know exactly what you must do and God’s readiness to receive you; then I encourage you to delay no longer. Come as you are, confess your sin, and find peace with God through Christ. He’ll hear your prayer. He’ll forgive your sin. He’ll make you a child of God.

Father, bless thy Word. We pray for fruit that remains. We pray against the enemy who steals away the seed, and we ask that there may be fruit from this preaching of the gospel—the fruit of even souls being converted. So save now, we pray, and help those of us who are saved to know to have confidence in the sufficiency of Christ and to live in the power of that liberty of the gospel. Bless our fellowship; strengthen us for every task through this week. Keep us obedient to all Thy perfect will. And may the grace of the Lord Jesus, the love of God the Father, and the fellowship of the Spirit be the portion of all the people of God now and evermore. Amen.