One evening, while riding the bus home from work, I met a young man. “You are Audrey, right?” He asked me when we got off the bus. “Yes,” I said. He introduced himself and told me he knew of me through a mutual acquaintance. We conversed a little as we walked toward the cluster of houses across the bus stop. And as I expected (or rather dreaded), when we arrived at a crossroads, he asked for my phone number.
I gave it to him somewhat reluctantly, and he texted me almost immediately, asking to see me again. Thankfully for me, it was during the second COVID lockdown, and just about everything was closed. So we communicated via text messages only.
A few days after we met, he observed I am a “very practicing Christian.” (I mentioned attending a weekly Bible study). He told me he, too, was serious about his Muslim faith. “I pray at least five times a day,” he said, “and regularly fast at least one month every year.” I don’t know if he said that to boast, impress me, or reassure me we had similar values, but when I read it, I couldn’t help but laugh.
His little discourse bore a striking resemblance to the prayer of the self-righteous Pharisee in Luke 18:11-13 who said, “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.”
Like the Pharisee, my friend, whom I shall call Joe, probably assumed he was righteous because of his outward works. And that his keeping of the law proved he was a genuine believer. In Islam—and almost all world religions, righteousness comes through strict adherence to rules. And the good works produced by faithful obedience grant a golden ticket to heaven and eternal reward. So it would be right for Joe to be proud of his works, especially if it proved his worthiness. But his performance did not impress me; it made me feel sorry for him.
How miserable must it be to go through life thinking your salvation rest upon your shoulders! Imagine living with the pressure of performing good works daily to appease a supreme being, wondering whether this wrongdoing or that act of disobedience isn’t what will tip the cosmic scales and damn you forever.
How glorious is the gospel of grace in comparison! Believers are saved by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone. Ephesians 2:8-9 says, “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.”
I don’t have to try to earn my way to heaven, which is excellent news because my works will never be enough. They are so pitiably inadequate that they are like filthy rags before a holy God. But by grace, I can look to Christ as my savior and rely on His atoning work on the cross. “Far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” (Galatians 6:14)
How incredibly blessed are we to trust in Jesus for salvation? To bask in God’s grace and receive the inestimable gift of eternal life for nothing we have done? To never have to be good enough for God because the Son of God was good enough for us? He lived the sinless life we couldn’t, obeyed the law perfectly, and performed every good work the Father asked Him. Yet He who knew no sin became sin for us that we might receive His righteousness.
“Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith.” (Phil 3:7-9)
As we enter the season of thanksgiving, I am deeply grateful for the glorious gospel of the grace of God. I am thankful that when I face the Judge of the earth, I won’t have to plead my case with my works but with the blood of Christ. I won’t ever have to tell God, “Look what I did,” but will have the privilege of saying, “look at what Christ has done!”
