The story of Martin Luther is a fantastic narrative. It is a tale full of surprises which follows a young law student through a thunderstorm, to a monastery, and, ultimately, the priesthood. There he was directed to the Word of God and the study of the Holy Scriptures. He soon became a professor and pastor, lecturing on the Word and caring for the saints in a small university town called Whittenberg. He operated within a well-defined religious system. It was a complex system, but if we were going to try and summarize it, we might say that fundamentally, it saw humanity as a creature moving toward salvation. The Church provided guidance and structure for their journey toward it. The issue, of course, was your sins. Sin kept you from achieving that for which you were hoping. Eternal life, prosperity, rest, however you defined it, the issue was dealing with your sins along the way. So, they had developed a carefully structured method of “sin management” to navigate the road ahead. It was a system of sin, repentance, and penance; acts that could move you closer and closer to your desired goal of getting to Heaven.

But this system was flawed. It felt good. It even seemed good. It appeared to have the answers you desired. It came with all the trappings of power and authority. But it played out like a video game designed in such a way that you could never beat it. Under every attempt to get on the straight and narrow, every correction made, there were more issues, more problems, and a multitude of sins and deceit lurking beneath. Those who tried, who really strived to play the sin management game, were often left in despair. Their conscience was horribly vexed and plagued with no comfort and no assurance. There was always more to be done, more to correct, more to confess.

As a result, Martin Luther, this little unknown monk, would find himself in the midst of the firestorm we call the Reformation. He struggled with the Church’s teachings on grace and faith as he taught and preached. And on All Hallows Eve in 1517, he would nail the infamous 95 Theses to the door of the Castle Church, a document which critiques the heart of the “sin management” system. It is a moment many mark as the beginning of the Reformation. Yet, later in life, Luther looked back on his early formation and talked at length about what he called his “Tower Experience.” It describes his struggle with the phrases “the righteousness of God” and “the righteous shall live by faith” from Saint Paul. He says he hated that phrase for he had been taught it was an active righteousness by which sinners are judged. The faithful are to live out their righteousness, and when they fail, salvation slips away. It was a game where there was no victory. It is a game only of condemnation. He goes as far as to say, “Not only did I not love, but I actually hated the righteous God who punishes sinners.” Now, that is the honesty that comes from being in the trenches.

The battle he feels is one all Christians have felt. It is what happens when we are faced with God’s Law. His holy and perfect commands measure and weigh the thoughts, words, and deeds of mankind and expose our sins and failures. Think about it: We sit in church this morning, and outside the doors, people are going by, living their lives without knowing how truly terrible they are. They probably assume everyone is essentially good, just trying to do their best, but they are only human and make mistakes occasionally. I mean, this place is not for the faint of heart. You come in here, and you end up confessing things like, “I am a poor, miserable sinner. I justly deserve Your temporal and eternal punishment.”

So, the Law of God has a purpose. It is supposed to reveal your sin and leave you naked and ashamed before your Lord. As Paul says in our text today, “Now we know that whatever the Law says it speaks to those who are under the Law, so that every mouth may be stopped, and the whole world may be held accountable to God. For by works of the Law no human being will be justified in His sight, since through the Law comes knowledge of sin.” The Law stops every mouth, every excuse, every complaint, and every rebuttal is silenced. In the Law, the entire world is condemned. But as Paul says, there is no justification here. There is no means by the Law to achieve salvation to achieve eternal life. The language of justification is legal language. It places you in the courtroom where God stands as the Judge of your life, of your thoughts, words, and deeds. Where is your hope?

Going back to Luther’s “Tower Experience,” he says, “Finally God had mercy on me, and I began to understand that the righteousness of God is a gift of God by which a righteous man lives, namely faith.” He begins to understand righteousness, not as our action, but as something we receive passively, a free gift of God. He says this in this realization: He felt as though he had been reborn and entered Paradise. This is the Good News we are presented with in our text today, for Paul says, “But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the Law, although the Law and the Prophets bear witness to it the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction: For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God and are justified by His grace as a gift.”

This was the piece of the story the “sin management” system failed to confess. It is the source of hope, life, and salvation that was kept from the people of God. They kept this explicit Word of hope from the broken and empty-handed sinners. When they were in their despair, they were directed to yet another work to perform, but Paul says, “For we hold that one is justified by faith apart from works of the Law.” There, in the courtroom before the holy judgment of an eternal God, you find justification, you find the proclamation that salvation is yours, forgiveness is yours. This is not by the works of the Law and not by the deeds you accomplish, but only and always through faith in what Christ alone has done for you. This, then, is our only hope. It is where we find the strength and confidence to soldier-on as the people of God.

Interestingly, Paul is writing this to the church in Rome. It is a church that was not particularly old. It was a church imbued with that early missionary zeal as salvation spread rapidly to the Gentiles. Yet, he writes at length to them to clarify the dangers of mingling the Law and the Gospel, of placing justification in the realm of your work. This is clearly antithetical to the work of Christ. It is to diminish the sacrifice and lessen the gift of His body and blood given and shed for you. And Paul does this, I assume, because this is the temptation. This is precisely what they are beginning to do. Taking up the Law and creating a system of works and obedience seems to be the necessary step for continuing to establish and grow the Church. So, the Apostle calls them back from such a destructive move.

This remains the great temptation for the Church and every institution. After all, forgiveness, freedom, and salvation in Christ alone are not great business models. This is why we remember the Reformation. We recall regularly what was fought for and what was at stake. To allow the Law to triumph over the Gospel is to have it rob us of the assurance that salvation is ours. It is to enter again into that old bondage. Instead, we proclaim you are justified today before God, not by your works but by faith. You are saved by grace alone through faith alone in Christ Jesus alone. We dare not add anything to it but joyfully receive what is given and boldly say, “Amen.”