Romans 4:1-3 - Abraham’s Righteousness - by Scott Sperling
A study written in the style of the eminent 17th century divine John King (c. 1559-1621), Bishop of London (1611-1621)
1 What then shall we say that Abraham, our forefather according to the flesh, discovered in this matter? 2 If, in fact, Abraham was justified by works, he had something to boast about—but not before God. 3 What does Scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.” — Romans 4:1–3
The Heart and Marrow of True Religion
To complete his line of reasoning in the first three chapters, the great Apostle Paul has set before us, in the closing verses of the third chapter of this Epistle, a doctrine most wondrous to the spiritually-minded, yet also most offensive to the carnal mind—namely, that justification before God comes not by works of the law, nor by any achievement of our own righteousness, but rather by the grace of God, received through faith in Jesus Christ as our Lord. This has been his triumphant proclamation: we are justified by the righteousness of Christ, imputed unto us through faith, and not by any good works that our hands may accomplish nor our hearts may contrive. The glory belongs to God alone; the shame and the destitution belongs to us.
But now, as we turn the page into the fourth chapter of Romans, the Apostle perceives a great difficulty in the minds of his Jewish brothers and sisters. They would cry out, saying, “But this is a new doctrine! This is a departure from the way of our fathers! Where in the ancient scriptures is there warrant for this scheme of justification by faith alone, set apart from the works of the law?” And so Paul, with divine wisdom, takes up the cause and shows that this way of faith—this way of believing the promises of God and having righteousness credited to us—is no novelty, no corruption of the ancient faith, but rather the very heart and marrow of all true religion, from the beginning of time.
In chapter 4, therefore, Paul gives us not one but two exemplars of this justification by faith: the patriarch Abraham and the psalmist David. Through their lives and their words, we are to understand that the God who justified the patriarchs by faith is the same God who now justifies the believer in Christ by faith. Christianity is not a casting away of the Old Testament, but rather a revelation that illuminates all that came before—a lamp set upon a candlestick, that all in the house might see the light.
The revelation of Christ is the revelation of the Old Testament itself, properly understood. For when we turn the pages of the Hebrew scriptures with eyes opened by the Gospel, we see our Messiah everywhere—the Seed of the woman, the Lamb of the Passover, the Prophet like unto Moses, the Suffering Servant, the Redeemer who stands on the earth. It is as though the whole tapestry of the old covenant has been woven with threads that spell out the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.
The Forefather of the Faithful (vs. 1)
1 What then shall we say that Abraham, our forefather according to the flesh, discovered in this matter?
With what skill and grace does Paul here introduce his argument! For he does not merely cite an obscure figure from antiquity, but rather the very father of the Jewish people—Abraham, patriarch of patriarchs, the one whom all Israel called father, and to whom the genealogies of the twelve tribes of Israel traced their descent. How profoundly wise was Paul’s choice! For if he could but show that Abraham himself—the very paradigm of Jewish holiness, the supreme model of that obedience which every pious Jew sought to imitate—was justified not by works but by faith, then the objections of the Jews would be not merely answered, but overwhelmed.
The Jewish people possessed a profound reverence for Abraham. They beheld in him the very embodiment of righteousness and of covenant faithfulness. In the words of their own psalms and traditions, they exalted him as the friend of God, the one who believed and was accounted righteous. Yet Paul’s contemporaries seem to have supposed that Abraham’s greatness came primarily from his mighty works—his obedience, his sacrifices, his righteousness wrought through discipline and effort. How could they believe that their father in the flesh was justified by faith alone?
And thus Paul demands: “What then shall we say that Abraham discovered?” (vs. 1). What was the nature of his standing with God? What was the source of his justification? To ask the question is already to begin the answer. For the Apostle leads his readers by the hand, as a teacher leads a child, toward a truth that overcomes all prejudice and all preconceived notion.
The Paradox of Boasting (vs. 2)
2 If, in fact, Abraham was justified by works, he had something to boast about—but not before God.
Here Paul engages in a subtle logical argument, a play of thought that appears to concede the point only to overturn it entirely. Grant, he seems to say, that Abraham was “justified by works” (vs. 2). Grant it for the sake of the argument, though grant it we shall not. If he were justified by his works, then assuredly—assuredly!—Abraham should have ground for boasting. What person does not exult in the works of his own hands? What creature does not glory in his own accomplishments?
And yet, mark well: such boasting would be valid only before men, “not before God” (vs. 2). This is the distinction that pierces the veil of all human self-righteousness. We may praise ourselves among our peers; we may be exalted by the multitude; we may have our names written in the chronicles of human esteem—and yet all this counts for nothing in the sight of Him who sees all things, who knows the very thoughts and intents of our hearts, who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity.
For Abraham, great as he was, was a sinner—like all the children of Adam who have walked upon this earth. The scriptures do not conceal this from us. We are told of Abraham offering his wife to a foreign king, placing her honor in jeopardy for his own safety. We witness his taking of Hagar as a concubine, acting through the weakness of the flesh rather than the strength of faith. His life, for all its grandeur, was marked by transgressions, by failures of faith, by moments when the old man of the flesh overcame the spirit of belief.
And this is the state of all humanity. As Paul declared in chapter 3: “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23). And again: “There is no one righteous, not even one” (Rom. 3:10). Thus even Abraham, patriarch though he was, could not stand before the perfectly holy and perfectly righteous God upon the basis of his own works. His good deeds, many though they were, could not wash away his iniquities. His obedience, though often genuine and faithful, could not expunge the record of his sins.
This, then, is the great revelation: that we cannot be saved by works. Our own righteousness is as “filthy rags,” as the prophet Isaiah speaks (see Isaiah 64:6). We toil and labor and sacrifice, yet all our efforts are insufficient to bridge the infinite chasm between our sinfulness and God’s holiness. Thus, to boast before God of our works is folly—nay, it is blasphemy, for it denies that we have need of grace, denies that we are beggars before the throne of the Almighty.
Analysis: The Three Great Works of Abraham’s Faith
Yet this raises a question in the mind of the thoughtful reader: How, then, shall we understand the mighty acts which Abraham performed? For there are recorded in scripture three great works of Abraham, works that shine forth from the pages of Genesis like beacons in the darkness. How are these works related to the faith of which Paul speaks? Are not the works proofs of his righteousness? Are they not evidence of his standing with God? Nay, we must look deeper, for these works are not the root but the fruit; not the cause but the consequence; not the foundation but the edifice built upon the foundation of faith.
The First Great Work: The Departure from Haran
In the twelfth chapter of Genesis, we find the commencement of Abraham’s pilgrimage. There he was, settled in Haran, a man of considerable substance and prosperity. He had accumulated possessions; his household was enlarged; he enjoyed a secure and comfortable existence. There was no war threatening him; no famine driving him forth; no earthly necessity compelling him to uproot himself and his entire household. By all the standards of worldly prudence, it made no sense whatsoever for him to leave his place of comfort.
Yet God spoke to him, saying, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you” (Gen. 12:1). And what was the inducement? Not safety, not security, not the goods of this world, but a promise—a promise hanging in the air like a jewel suspended by an invisible thread. “I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing.... All peoples on earth will be blessed through you” (Gen. 12:2-3).
And what did Abram do? He obeyed. At the age of seventy-five years, he severed himself from all that was comfortable and familiar. He took his wife Sarai, his nephew Lot, his servants and his possessions, and he set forth toward a land that he knew not, following only the promise of God. This was faith—not merely intellectual assent to a doctrine, but a total staking of one’s life upon the faithfulness of God. This was a man who had cast away security, comfort, and the love of the familiar, impelled solely by the promises of the Almighty.
And are we not called to do likewise? Have not the words of our Lord Jesus come to us, “Follow me”? And did not His disciples, hearing these words, drop their nets and their livelihood and follow Him? They did the same thing that Abraham did—they relinquished what was earthly and secure to pursue what was spiritual and transcendent. They responded to the promise of God by faith. The same God who called Abraham out of Haran calls us out of the world, saying, “I have a better life for you than this; come, take up your cross, and follow me.”
The Second Great Work: The Covenant of Circumcision
Years passed. Abraham grew old—exceedingly old. And when he had reached the age of ninety-nine years, God appeared to him again and made a covenant with him. The promise was reiterated: Abraham would be the father of many nations. His name was changed from Abram to Abraham, meaning “father of many.” At that time, God spoke to him concerning the rite of circumcision.
Hear the commandment: “This is my covenant with you and your descendants after you... Every male among you shall be circumcised. You are to undergo circumcision, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and you” (Gen. 17:10-11). And what was Abraham’s response? He did not demur; he did not question. Rather, “On that very day Abraham took his son Ishmael and all those born in his household or bought with his money, every male in his household, and circumcised them, as God told him” (Gen. 17:23). Abraham himself was circumcised at the age of ninety-nine years.
Let us consider what this act signifies. Abraham was called to wound the very instrument through which his seed would be born. To do this was an act of faith of the most profound and costly kind. For he was thus placing his full confidence, not in the strength of his own flesh, but in the power and the faithfulness of God. He was saying, in effect, “I will not trust in my own strength, in my own vitality, in my own flesh. I will trust only in God.”
And this, beloved, is the circumcision to which we are called—not the physical circumcision of the flesh, but the circumcision of the heart. We are called to excise from ourselves whatever prevents us from putting full trust in God. We are called to put no confidence in the flesh, to regard our own strength as worthless, to say with the Apostle, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me” (Gal. 2:20). This is the true circumcision of which Paul spoke when he wrote, “For it is we who are the circumcision, we who serve God by his Spirit, who boast in Christ Jesus, and who put no confidence in the flesh” (Phil. 3:2).
When we circumcise our hearts in this manner—when we remove from ourselves the reliance upon our own instruments, and place our entire trust in God—then we are enabled to love Him with all our heart and all our soul. As Moses declared, “The Lord your God will circumcise your hearts and the hearts of your descendants, so that you may love him with all your heart and with all your soul, and live.” (Deut. 30:6). Abraham obeyed this call to inner circumcision; he stripped away his confidence in the flesh and clothed himself entirely in faith in the promises of God. And this faith was the proof that he believed what God had promised him.
The Third Great Work: The Offering of Isaac
Yet the testing of Abraham was not yet complete. Years had passed since the covenant of circumcision. A son was born to Abraham and Sarah—Isaac, the son of the promise, the seed through whom the promise should be fulfilled. And Abraham loved this son with all the love that a father can bear.
Then, in a moment that shakes the mind with wonder, God spoke to Abraham and said, “Take your son, your only son, whom you love—Isaac—and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on a mountain I will show you” (Gen. 22:2). What a commandment! What a trial! Abraham had waited twenty-five years for this son. This son was the very fulfilment of the promise—the seed through whom he should become the father of many nations, the grandfather of multitudes. And now God commands him to put this beloved son to death upon an altar.
Did Abraham argue? Did he try to negotiate with God? Did he say, “Lord, surely you don’t understand the situation; surely you don’t know what you are asking of me”? No. The scriptures tell us that “early the next morning Abraham got up and saddled his donkey” (Gen. 22:3). He took Isaac, took the wood for the burnt offering, and set his face toward Mount Moriah.
As they journeyed, Isaac asked his father, “Father, we have the wood and the fire, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” (Gen. 22:7). And Abraham replied, “God himself will provide the lamb, my son” (Gen. 22:8). These words are not the words of a man who has lost his faith; they are the words of a man whose faith has been tried in the furnace and has come forth as pure gold.
When they reached the place, Abraham built the altar and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac and laid him upon the altar. He stretched forth his hand and took the knife to slay his son. And then—in that moment when the knife was raised—the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, saying, “Abraham, Abraham! Do not lay a hand on the boy... Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son” (Gen. 22:11-12).
The Epistle to the Hebrews provides us with clarity about this mighty act. The Apostle in that book declares, “By faith Abraham, when God tested him, offered Isaac as a sacrifice. He who had embraced the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son, even though God had said to him, ‘It is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned.’ Abraham reasoned that God could even raise the dead, and so in a manner of speaking he did receive Isaac back from death” (Heb. 11:17-19). Behold the faith of Abraham! He believes that even if he slay his son, God is able to raise him from the dead and fulfill His promise. This is faith in its most exalted form—a faith that triumphs even over the most terrible of trials, a faith that holds fast to the promises of God even when all earthly reason seems to cry out against it.
And what is the meaning of this act for us who live in the age of grace? We shall never be called upon to offer our children in sacrifice—for, unlike the false gods of the heathen nations, our God abhors human sacrifice. Indeed, the very point of this narrative is to show that God does not desire the blood of our children. Rather, God Himself has provided the Lamb for the sacrifice (just as Abraham prophesied), sufficient for all time—the sacrifice of God’s own Son, Jesus Christ, offered once for all for the sins of the world.
Yet the lesson ends not there. We are called to a kindred act: we are called to offer ourselves as living sacrifices to God. We are called to surrender everything that is precious to us—our hopes, our ambitions, our desires, our very selves—upon the altar of obedience to God. As Paul will later write in this very epistle: “Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship” (Rom. 12:1).
So then, we have contemplated the three great works of Abraham. In the first, he departed from his home and security at the call of God. In the second, he circumcised himself and his household, putting no confidence in the flesh. In the third, he offered up his beloved son in obedience to God’s commandment. And what is the thread that binds all three together? What is the common element that makes these works significant? It is not the works themselves, considered merely as external actions. Rather, it is the faith that impelled the works, the faith from which they flowed as water flows from a living spring.
Mark well this distinction! The works of Abraham did not create his righteousness. Rather, they proved it. They were the manifestation, the visible expression, the fruit of the faith that was already present in Abraham’s heart. Faith came first; works followed after. Faith was the root; works were the flowers and the fruit that grew from that root. “Abraham believed God” (vs. 3), and from that belief there flowed a river of obedience, of sacrifice, of steadfast adherence to the promises of the Almighty.
Had Abraham not possessed faith, he never would have performed these works. No earthly compulsion would have driven him to leave Haran; no fear of punishment would have impelled him to circumcise himself in his old age; no amount of coercion could have brought him to offer his beloved son. These works sprang from an inward conviction, an inward certainty, that God was true and that His promises were sure. The works were the fruit of faith.
And therefore, when the scriptures declare that “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness” (vs. 3), we understand that that righteousness does not rest upon the works themselves, but upon the faith that generated the works. Abraham was righteous before God because he “believed” God. The works were the evidence of that righteousness, the visible seal upon it; but the righteousness itself was founded upon faith.
Consider how this principle does overturn all our human notions of merit and desert! We naturally suppose that righteousness should be proportionate to our works; that the more we do, the more righteous we become. But the scriptures teach us a different economy entirely. We are righteous not because of what we do, but because of what we believe. We are justified not by our works, but by our faith in the promises and the power of God.
3 What does Scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.”
Now Paul brings forth the clinching evidence, the testimony of scripture itself. He quotes from the fifteenth chapter of Genesis, where we read that when God promised Abraham that his descendants would be as numerous as the stars, “Abraham believed” the Lord, and the Lord “credited it to him as righteousness” (vs. 3). Here, in the midst of Abraham’s life, when he was yet a sojourner, yet a man living by faith in promises not yet fulfilled, we are told that Abraham was accounted righteous—not because of his works, not because of his attainments, but simply and solely because he believed God.
What a marvelous declaration! What a revolutionary pronouncement! Abraham was sinful, like all people. Abraham had done wrong; Abraham would do wrong again. Abraham fell short of the glory of God. And yet—and yet—he was credited with righteousness. How could this be? Only through the grace of God, who looked upon the faith of Abraham and said, “It is accounted unto him as righteousness.” The righteousness was not his own; it was credited to him, imputed to him, as a gift from the gracious hand of God.
This is the mystery and the glory of the Gospel! We are sinners, and we cannot by our own efforts become righteous. We are debtors to the law; we have broken the commandment; we have incurred the debt of death. Yet God, in His infinite mercy and grace, looks upon our faith—our trust, our reliance, our belief in His promises—and He credits us with the righteousness of His Son. Our sin remains a fact; our transgression remains a record; our guilt remains a truth. But God, for the sake of Christ and through our faith in Christ, deals with us as though we were righteous.
Abraham did not know Christ by name. He knew not that the Son of God would be born of Bethlehem of a virgin; he knew not that the Savior would be crucified at Golgotha; he knew not that on the third day the grave could not hold Him. And yet Abraham responded to the light that was given unto him—the promises of God concerning a seed through whom all nations should be blessed, concerning a land that should be given to his descendants, concerning a multitude of offspring as the stars of heaven. Abraham believed these promises, and in believing them, he believed in Christ, though he knew him not by name. For all the promises of God find their fulfilment in Christ, and all faith in the promises of God is, at its deepest level, faith in Him who is the substance of all the promises.
So Abraham was justified by faith. This is the testimony of scripture. This is the word of God concerning the patriarch of Israel. And if Abraham was justified by faith, and not by works, then surely the same principle must apply to all of us who are his spiritual children. If God credited Abraham with righteousness when he believed, then surely He will credit us with righteousness when we believe in the Gospel of His Son, Jesus Christ.
Thus we perceive the profound unity of the Old Testament and the New Testament. The God who justified Abraham by faith is the God who justifies us by faith. The Gospel that we preach is not a new thing, but a further revelation of the eternal purpose of God, a bringing to fullness of what was always present in seed form in the promises made to the patriarchs.
“Abraham believed God.” He believed in the promises, even when they seemed impossible. He believed when he was old and his body was as good as dead. He believed when he was called to offer up his beloved son. And his faith was “credited to him as righteousness.” Not his works, though they were many and often admirable. Not his obedience, though he strove to obey. But his faith—his trusting reliance upon the faithfulness of God.
Let us examine ourselves. Do we believe God as Abraham believed? Do we trust in the promises of God as Abraham trusted? Do we rely upon the faithfulness of God even when the circumstances of our lives seem to contradict the promises? Are we willing to leave what is comfortable and secure to follow where God calls us? Are we willing to circumcise our hearts, to put away confidence in the flesh and place our entire trust in God? Are we willing to offer upon the altar of sacrifice all that we hold dear—our hopes, our ambitions, our very selves—for the sake of Christ and the Gospel?
If so, then we are the children of Abraham. If so, then faith has been credited to us as righteousness. If so, then we stand in the same justified position before God that Abraham enjoyed—not by reason of our works, but by reason of our faith in the promises of God and in the redemption wrought by Christ.
This is the message that Paul proclaims to the churches. This is the word of the Lord to all who have ears to hear. “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.” And so shall it be to all those who believe in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of Abraham, the Redeemer of mankind, in whom all the promises of God are yea and amen, now and forever. To Him be glory and dominion, world without end. Amen.
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