The False Hope of Purgatory

Article by John MacArthur (original source here)

Let’s be clear from the outset: The Roman Catholic doctrine of purgatory is taught nowhere in Scripture. It was invented to accommodate Catholicism’s denial of justification by faith alone. And it offers false hope to millions who anticipate ample time beyond the grave—perhaps eons, if necessary—to achieve their own justification.

Scripture very clearly teaches that an absolutely perfect righteousness is necessary for entry into heaven. Jesus said, “I say to you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:20). He then added, “Therefore you are to be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48)—thus setting the standard as high as it can possibly be set.

The Only Way to Heaven

Later in His ministry, when the rich young ruler approached Jesus to ask how he might enter heaven, Jesus upheld this same standard of absolute perfection. He began by challenging the clear implication that the young man hoped he could attain a sufficient goodness of his own to merit heaven: “Why are you asking Me about what is good? There is only One who is good” (Matthew 19:17). Notice: Jesus did not disclaim that He Himself was sinlessly perfect (a common misinterpretation of this passage). He was simply pointing out plainly that the standard of perfection required to earn heaven is impossible for fallen creatures.

Because the young man was undeterred by this, however, Jesus told him that to obtain eternal life, he must have a track record of perfect obedience to the law (Matthew 19:17-22). Again and again, Jesus made the required standard of righteousness impossibly high for all who would seek to earn God’s favor on their own.

The young ruler clearly did not understand or acknowledge his own sinfulness. He assured Jesus that he had indeed kept the law from his youth up (v. 20).

Jesus subtly pointed out the young man’s covetousness (v. 21), which was a violation of the tenth commandment. From the outset of His conversation with the young man, the Lord was prodding him to confess that no one but God Himself is truly good. But the rich young ruler was unwilling to face his own sinfulness, and so he went away without salvation.

The disciples marveled at this. The young man was evidently—from a human perspective—one of the most righteous individuals they’d encountered. Notice that no one disputed his claim that he had obeyed the law. That suggests there were no overt sins in his life that anyone could point to. He seemed the best of men. So the disciples were floored when he walked away with no assurance of eternal life from Jesus. In fact, Jesus told them, “Truly I say to you, it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I say to you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God” (Matthew 19:23-24).

There’s no mistaking Jesus’ point. He was setting the standard at an impossible height. He was saying that the most fastidious legal observance is not enough. The most flawless external righteousness is not enough. All the worldly advantages of wealth are of no help. Only absolute perfection is acceptable to God. Our Lord kept underscoring these truths because He wanted people to see the utter futility of trying to earn righteousness by any system of works.

The disciples got the message. They asked, “Then who can be saved?” (Matthew 19:25).

And Jesus replied, “With people this is impossible, but with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26).

Accepted By Imputation

We know from Paul’s treatise on justification in Romans 4 that God saves believers by imputing to them the merit of Christ’s perfect righteousness—by no means because of their own righteousness. God accepts believers “in Christ.” He clothes them with the perfect righteousness of Christ. He declares them perfectly righteous because of Christ. Their sins have been imputed to Christ, who has paid the full penalty. His righteousness is now imputed to them—and through His imputed righteousness—they receive His full merit. That is what justification by faith means. The Father “made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him” (2 Corinthians 5:21). Continue reading

Fritz Erbe: The Reformation Figure You’ve Never Heard Of

Dr. James White led the Alpha and Omega Ministries group visiting the Wartburg Castle in Eisenach, Germany, up the South Tower to the entrance of the 30 foot deep dungeon contained therein. There he introduced the group to Fritz Erbe, an Anabaptist imprisoned there from 1541 to 1548 when he died in that very cell. His crime? Non-baptism of his children, a conviction he held by reading the very Bible Luther had translated into German a scant 150 meters away barely 15 years earlier. We reflected upon the realities of sacralism, the State Church, and the Reformation as a whole. A sobering, but necessary, portion of the tour.

7 Things I Love About Liturgical Protestant Worship

Article by Silverio Gonzalez, husband, father, and staff writer at Core Christianity. He earned his B.A. in Philosophy from the University of California, Santa Barbara, and his Master of Divinity from Westminster Seminary California. (original source here)

Sometimes the idea of “formal worship” scares people. I hope to make that less scary. The Protestant traditions include Anglicanism, Lutheranism, the Reformed, and Presbyterianism. Although these traditions have important differences, they reflect important similarities in the way they worship. I could feel more or less at home in any of these traditions. A liturgy is an order of worship in which God gives grace in the gospel and we respond in faith, hope, and love.

1. I love that liturgical Protestant worship is shaped by the Gospel.
Common in Protestant liturgies is a movement from the law of God and our repentance to the Gospel. The Gospel announces our forgiveness and justification. A good liturgy is evangelical in the best sense in that it helps move the congregation through the ordinary patterns of the Christian life. I constantly feel the weight of the week’s sins lifted as I confess my sins in a prayer together with the congregation. Then I hear the pastor preach the gospel, telling me again that my sins are forgiven because of Christ alone.

2. I love that liturgical Protestant worship has specific prayers as part of the service.
In Protestant orders of worship, there is usually a prayer of adoration, a prayer of confession of sin, a pastoral prayer for the needs of the congregation, and a prayer of thanksgiving. Sometimes some of these prayers are expressed in song; other times the entire congregation reads a written prayer. The pastor leads the congregation in these prayers that reflect our unity. Through public prayer, we bear one another’s burdens. When I hear my pastor pray for me, I feel his love for the congregation, and me in particular.

3. I love that liturgical Protestant worship includes lots of Scripture reading throughout the service.
Usually there are readings from the Old and New Testaments, Psalms, Epistles, and Gospels. Sometimes the Psalms are sung. Protestant liturgies include a variety of arrangements and a number of Scripture readings. Hearing so much Scripture read in church is like being washed in God’s Word.

4. I love that liturgical Protestant worship includes the pastor preaching both the law and the gospel from the Bible.
A good sermon doesn’t just tell me about what happened in the past. A good sermon helps me to understand my life as a part of God’s story. A good sermon focuses on what Jesus did—and is doing—to save sinners like me. A good sermon shows me why Jesus had to die. A good sermon shows me how to respond in faith, hope, and love. Protestants preach God’s word of law to humble my proud heart and God’s gospel to show me my savior and remind me how God has promised to work in my life to save me from sin’s penalty and power.

5. I love that liturgical Protestant worship recites creeds.
If you have never been in a church that recites a creed like the Apostles’ Creed, then this is a great reason to visit. When we recite this creed, we recite something that reflects the basics of our faith. The pastor asks, “Congregation, what do you believe?” and we respond with, “I believe in God the Father Almighty….” We confess our common faith together. In this act we connect to the church past, present, and future. We are expressing the one faith that all Christians have sought to maintain for generations.

6. I love that liturgical Protestant worship sings old and new songs.
I love singing old songs, because they remind me of the different cultures and time periods in which God worked. I love singing new songs, because they remind me that the faith is still living, that Christianity is still vibrant today, and that God is still working. Singing new and old songs reminds me that God has promised to gather the nations as his people (Ps. 86:9).

7. I love that liturgical Protestant worship expresses a range of emotions.
Like the Psalms, Protestants know how to mourn, how to praise, how to ask God for our needs, and how to give thanks for what he has already given. When I come to church, I’m not forced to be happy or sad, but I get to express that weird mixture so common to Christians: joy and sorrow, praise and lament, and repentance and faith. I love that I get to express the way I actually feel, and am helped to express the ways I should feel, as I am taught to express the entire range of emotions that are part of the ordinary Christian life.