13For the promise [was] not through law to Abraham and his descendants that [he was] to be heir of the world, but [it was] through righteousness of faith. 14For if those out of law [are] heirs, the faith is made empty and the promise is rendered useless, 15for the law produces wrath, but where law is not, neither [is there] transgression. 16Because of this, [it is] out of faith in order that [it might be] according to grace, so that the promise might be certain to all of the descendants, not only to those out of the law but also to those out of [the] faith of Abraham, who is a father of all of us.
Here’s another passage that ought to be printed in gold letters. “It comes by faith, so that it might be according to grace, so that the promise might be sure…” Bebaios. Sure. Certain. Guaranteed. The Greek word pictures a fence post set in concrete. You can grab it and think you’ll shove it right or left, only to find you’re the one going right and left, not the post. It is bebaios. Steadfast. Immovable.
That is a great quality for fence posts, but it is something far better when it concerns your eternal soul, your future, your own life and security. Here’s the problem: If our salvation, our relationship with God, and all of that depends on law keeping, we’re all doomed. As Paul says in v. 15, “the law produces wrath.” Although the law itself may be good and holy, yet it is rigid and unyielding. Law has no place for mercy. To break it is to be guilty. And that is not a 50:50 thing, not even 80:20 or 90:10, or 99:1. To break the law is to be guilty. Period. Culpable to punishment. If we could keep it perfectly, we’d be fine, but since we can’t, it produces only wrath. It is a judge not the least impressed with whatever it was you were doing right. If you broke the law, you’re guilty and the judge will tell you so.
The bad thing for us humans is we know that. The vast majority of the human race may deny it, refuse to think about it, pretend it isn’t true, but we all know our “good works” aren’t “good enough.” Even to suggest we need to be “good” begs the question, “How good?” If my acceptance with God depends on me being “good,” I’m left with the awful uncertainty of never knowing if I was “good enough.” There’s always something I could have done better. There’s always someone who does it better than me. It’s like the man who said, “I’m no brute like Genghis Khan, but I’m no saint like Mother Theresa either.” So where does that leave us? Uncertain. Then add to that the awful regrets. Not only am I uncertain whether I was “good enough,” I’m also haunted by all the ways I know I failed.
The human race answers with, “But I’ll do better.” Rather than admitting that our law system fails us, we look for some way to do it “better.” Is this not the basis of the entire world’s religious systems? Do they not all come down to, “Here’s the rules and if you follow them, you’ll be a good person”? Whether they’re Moslems or Amish or Hasidic Jews or Buddhists or Catholic monks or legalistic Christians, it’s always about keeping the rules. And when we realize the rules aren’t “working,” we think we just need new rules, or different rules, or better rules, or more rules, or less rules, or maybe no rules at all (!), but it always concerns “the rules.” We just can’t seem to admit we’re all chasing our tails. Even the promises of God Himself become useless if somehow their certainty depends on our performance. As it says, “Faith becomes empty and the promise is rendered useless.” Such a “promise” is no promise at all.
Enter the Gospel. Once again, “It comes by faith, so that it might be according to grace, so that the promise might be sure…” God’s love cannot be earned. It can only be accepted. He offers us forgiveness, Heaven, hope and a future totally as a gift. We are still guilty, we’re still sinners, we’ve still failed and the law still condemns us, but Jesus took the all of our punishment on the Cross. Our sins are paid for. They’re gone. That’s why it says, “But where there is no law, there is no transgression.” Jesus satisfied the Law. “Law” is no longer the issue. Now in our relationship with God, we don’t need to concern ourselves any longer with the question of “Am I good enough?” or haunt ourselves with all our failures. The only question is whether I will or will not accept God’s gracious offer of salvation. I either do or I don’t. Will I or will I not accept God’s gracious and unconditional love? I either do or I don’t.
I suppose I’d better inject here that grace doesn’t make us lawless. In fact it has the exact opposite effect. When I comprehend grace, that God offers me His love entirely apart from how well I do or do not “perform,” it only makes me love Him more. It makes me want to do things that please Him, to avoid things that displease Him. But now I’m not doing them to “earn” anything. I just love Him. Now they’re no longer “rules,” but simply expressions of my wonderful Father’s heart.
But back to our passage. I love that it says it is by grace through faith “that the promise might be sure.” Sure. Bebaios. We need a God who is to us sure. We need a God who is like that fence post. Immovable. Certain. As Paul said in II Cor. 1:18-22, “But as surely as God is faithful, our message to you is not ‘Yes’ and ‘No.’ …For no matter how many promises God has made, they are ‘Yes’ in Christ…He anointed us, set His seal of ownership on us, and put His Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.”
Sure. Certain. Step back with me a minute and think about those two words. How important are they to you and me? If I search around the circle of my life, everywhere I look I see places where it is extremely important to me to know things for sure, to be certain. How many times have we said to ourselves, “I just need to be sure”? I would suggest, if you ponder around your life, you’ll see the same thing. We need certainty. Now what I want to ask is, “Why is that?” Why is this thing of certainty so important to us?
Here is what I want to suggest: It is because our God is certain. Our Creator is a Rock. He is that unmovable fence post. You and I were created in a universe run by a God who is certain. We are born dependent on Him, but this One upon whom we depend is not some capricious, whimsical God. He is “a faithful Creator.” He is a God who “opens His hand and satisfies the desires of every living thing.” When He speaks, what we get are “very great and precious promises.” Jesus said, “I am the Truth.” That is why we need sure—because the God in whom “we live and move and have our being” is sure. It is part of the fabric of our very souls.
And that is precisely why we need Him in our lives. Because He Himself is certainty. With Him, we can literally “Build our house on a rock.” But without Him, we are left with that “God-sized hole” in our hearts. Without Him, we live in a world of almost total uncertainty. People ask, “Why are we here? Where are we going? What does the future hold?” It’s like the old song, “In the year 2525, if man is still alive, if woman can survive…” “If.” That’s the best they can come up with: If.
Before the Lord saved me, I realized I don’t know anything for sure. I don’t even know if this world really exists or if I am just some point source of intelligence that has created all of this as some kind of dream to amuse myself. How do I know? I dream every night and create entire worlds. Who’s to say when I’ve “awakened” that I’m really awake? We’ve all dreamed that we were dreaming. I once even dreamed that I was dreaming that I was dreaming. It was a horrible experience “waking up,” as I kept “waking up,” only to find I was in another dream. It was an enormous relief to finally actually “wake up” and feel sure I was actually in the real world. But then…was I? Is my whole life a dream? Then the problem with that is realizing, even if it is true, what if I don’t like this dream I’ve created? What if, instead of a dream, I find it’s a nightmare? Where do I get off this merry-go-round, and if I do, then where will I be?
Without God, nothing is certain. And then the next horrible thought is that, if nothing is certain, then nothing really matters. My life doesn’t matter. What I do or don’t do doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. If nothing is certain, then nothing matters.
Ugh! What a horrible, hopeless ball of confusion!
But here we are again. In the Gospel, our certain God offers us a certain relationship, and having entered into that certain relationship, we can build certain lives with certain hopes and certain futures—just like we were created for. Once again, we see how our entire universe spins on the truth of the Gospel.
God made it to be “by faith, so that it might be according to grace, so that the promise might be sure…” “God did this so that…we who have fled to take hold of the hope offered to us may be greatly encouraged. We have an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf” (Heb. 6:18-20). And now He invites us because of Jesus, to “come boldly before the Throne of Grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need” (4:16).
In the Gospel, this salvation by grace through faith alone, God offers us the very certainty our souls so desperately need. And then we will immediately discover, it wasn’t just my salvation that needed certainty—it is the totality of my human existence. Having entered into this certain relationship with God, I find that same certainty wonderfully fill every corner of my life.
I need to know for sure.
With Jesus, now I do.
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