The Bribe of Grace
Confronting the false gospel of Moralism
When the Apostle Paul wrote to the church in Galatia, he warned them against a unique kind of error. The Galatians’ problem was that works-righteousness had begun to distort their understanding of the Gospel. Crafty and persuasive individuals were encouraging the Galatian Christians to think a certain way about Christian spirituality. Paul’s letter — the first of the canonical epistles — is devoted in no small part to tearing down the notion that our salvation depends in any way on our own work.
Two thousand years later, however, the Moralistic spirit of the Judaizers still lives.
It goes like this:
Grace first + good works second = salvation.
The order of operations is important. No protestant Christian would affirm that we can earn salvation by bringing good works to the table up front. That more transparent variety of legalism is plainly denounced in Scripture. We recognize that grace is a gift and that grace received as a reward for good works is not a gift at all, but a wage.
Nevertheless, I continually stumble across this teaching: that grace alone saves but grace which does not produce good works does not result in salvation. In this equation the good works come on the back end rather than up front. “Good works,” the proponents of this thinking argue, “Do not save a person, but they are a necessary evidence of salvation.” This more subtle variety of legalism masquerades as a “grace alone” theology, but it’s a thin disguise. Grace is no gift in this equation, either. Instead it’s a payment that carries with it the expectation of performance. In other words: It’s a bribe.
This is not a niche phenomenon that is unique to a certain denomination or theological tradition. It affects every stream of American Christianity. An observant person can’t read Christian websites and Twitter feeds without stumbling upon someone trying to back-load the Gospel with works-righteousness. Preachers and authors who pay lip-service to the Gospel of grace nevertheless encourage people to question their salvation on the basis of morality. Nearly everywhere I turn, I hear Christians saying “Not so fast” when our Lord has said “It is finished.”
To be fair, most of the people who propagate this theology are well-meaning people. They want their followers and listeners and congregants to feel assured of salvation. They want their people’s character to reflect the character of God. But the impulse to inject Moralism into Christian spirituality is misguided and harmful to people. The two are incompatible as mechanisms for relating to a God who said “It is not the healthy who need a doctor but the sick.” (Luke 5)
The need for a physician does not end upon receipt of salvation. The new birth does not initiate a lifelong climb toward the summit of self mastery. Rather, the Christian life is a long and descending and limitless expedition into the darkest and most diseased chambers of the human heart wherein once we uncover some derelict and long-untouched space within us we invite Christ to take up residence and perform renovations there.
Discomfort with the mystery of our humanity has led many Christians to seek comfort in the quantifiable: Have I indulged in pornography fewer times this week than last? Have I evangelized more people this month than last? How can I ensure greater consistency in my personal devotions in the future? The motivation is commendable, but those who put their confidence in moral measurements are doomed to a lifetime of disappointment; no one who has begun by grace will be perfected by their own hard work.
Good works were not given to us to be a means of attaining right-standing before God — Christ was. Good works were given to us to be conducive to our spiritual and emotional health. God did not design human beings to be squalid and self-destructive but to be image-bearers and representatives of Himself in the world. The good works “prepared in advance for us to do” (Eph. 2) are part of our destiny but they are neither the basis nor the mechanism for our relationship with God. Only the grace of God which is received by faith is a firm enough foundation upon which to build a temple of the Holy Spirit. If we confide in our own strength we will find our houses crumbling.
Moralism can’t bear the weight of Christian destiny. What it can do is undermine the health of every spiritual community in which it takes root. People who are given a Moralistic paradigm for Spirituality react in one of two ways: Either they begin to place confidence in their moral accomplishments and become prideful, or they begin to feel shame at their inability to meet moralistic standards and fall into despair. This leads to communities full of spiritual elitists — and struggling believers who learn to hide from them. These communities are inauthentic, unhealthy, unloving, and are prime environments for spiritual abuse.
Grace is the dual-purpose solution to this predicament. When we trust grace to make us strong (2 Tim. 2:1), our sense of identity doesn’t rise and fall with our moral successes and failures. Instead we experience the ultimate freedom — freedom to love God and our neighbor without fear of condemnation. Our successes bring glory to God and benefit others. Our failures are forgotten, because love keeps no record of wrongs.
The way of Jesus is one of radical dependence, faithful service, self-denial, and advancing the Kingdom of Heaven. It is accessible only to those who have come to terms with how free God’s gift of grace really is. Those who make peace with Moralism will have to settle for the way of rugged individualism and personal advancement. But those who know that grace is not a wage given as compensation for good performance, and those who dare to trust that grace is not a bribe that God will hold over our heads for eternity, will discover the fullness of joy.
