Romans 4:22–25 - The Benefits of Faith - by Scott Sperling

²² This is why “it was credited to him as righteousness.” ²³ The words “it was credited to him” were written not for him alone, ²⁴ but also for us, to whom God will credit righteousness—for us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead. ²⁵ He was delivered over to death for our sins and was raised to life for our justification. — Romans 4:22–25

Recap of Abraham’s Justification (vs. 22)

We now arrive at the final few verses of the fourth chapter of Romans, wherein Paul brings to the conclusion of his account of Abraham’s justification by faith. These verses—Romans 4:22–25—stand as a threshold between that which has been established concerning the old patriarch and that which shall follow (in chapter 5) concerning ourselves, the people of faith in this present age. Here Paul presents to us not merely the capstone of Abraham’s righteousness, but the very foundation upon which our own justification rests.

The context that precedes these verses is most crucial. In verses 20–21, Paul spoke at length concerning the persistence of Abraham’s faith—how he “did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised.” Having detailed Abraham’s unwavering conviction, Paul reminds us of the key statement in Genesis that kicked off his discourse concerning Abraham’s faith: “This is why ‘it was credited to him as righteousness’” (vs. 22).

Abraham as Our Model (vss. 23–24)

²³ The words “it was credited to him” were written not for him alone, ²⁴ but also for us, to whom God will credit righteousness—for us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead.

With the opening of verse 23, Paul shifts his discourse from the past of Abraham into the present of his readers, and to ourselves. He declares that the words concerning Abraham’s righteousness “were written not for him alone, but also for us” (vs. 23). This is a principle of interpretation most vital: that the record of Abraham’s faith was set down through God’s Providence not merely as a historical account of one man’s relationship with God, but rather as an exemplary pattern for all who should come after, even including us in this present age.

God saw fit, in His infinite wisdom, to include Abraham’s history within the sacred canon of Scripture not as a mere narrative of past events, but as an instruction and encouragement for all future generations. The words concerning Abraham’s justification by faith were written for us—penned by inspiration of the Spirit of God with our benefit and our instruction in view.

And in verse 24, Paul makes explicit the parallel between Abraham’s faith and our own: “... but also to us, to whom God will credit righteousness—for us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead.” Observe here the remarkable structure that Paul employs. Just as Abraham’s faith was directed toward the power of God—toward God’s ability to do what He had promised—so also our faith must be directed toward the same power of God, manifested now in the raising of Jesus Christ from the dead. The focus of faith has shifted in its object—from Abraham’s faith in God’s power to create life in the dead womb of Sarah, over to our faith in God’s power to raise Jesus from the grave—yet the essence of faith remains the same.

It is a most extraordinary and instructive parallel that Paul here presents to us. Abraham’s faith contained not merely one element of belief in God’s life-giving power, but rather two distinct manifestations of it:

First, Abraham believed that God could bring forth a son from the dead womb of Sarah. In Genesis, we are told that Sarah was barren, and that Abraham and Sarah were both very old—Abraham being a hundred years old when Isaac was born. By all natural reasoning, the reproductive faculties of both were as dead, as incapable of generating life as the grave itself. Yet Abraham, against all the evidence of nature and circumstance, believed that God could do what He had promised. He believed in God’s power to resurrect life from that which was dead.

Second, Abraham believed that God could raise the dead even unto the point of sacrifice. When God commanded Abraham to take his beloved son Isaac to the region of Mount Moriah and there to offer him as a burnt offering, Abraham did not hesitate. As the writer of the Book of Hebrews informs us, “Abraham reasoned that God could even raise the dead, and so in a manner of speaking he did receive Isaac back from death” (Hebrews 11:19). Abraham proceeded toward the altar of sacrifice, not in despair or doubt, but in the confidence that even should the knife fall and Isaac perish, God could and would raise him from the dead. Thus a second time, Abraham demonstrated his faith in God’s life-giving power.

Now mark well how Paul presents to us two parallel elements in our own faith:

First, we believe in the bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. This is not merely a spiritual or metaphorical resurrection; it is a corporeal, documented, historical raising of the body of Jesus from the sepulchre wherein it had been laid. And as Paul elsewhere declares—in Romans 10:9—“If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” The resurrection of Christ is not an optional doctrine, some secondary matter of Christian belief; no, it is the very foundation stone of our justification. Without faith in the bodily resurrection of Christ, one has not the saving faith whereof Paul speaks.

Second, we believe that God will raise our mortal bodies from the dead. Paul makes this explicit in Romans 8:11—“And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you.” Furthermore, in Romans 6:3–5, Paul writes: “Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his.”

So we see a most remarkable correspondence: Abraham believed in God’s power to raise life from death in two contexts—the birth of Isaac and the resurrection of Isaac from the sacrificial altar. Even so, we believe in God’s power to raise life from death in two contexts—the resurrection of Christ and our own resurrection. The structure of faith is identical; the object and the circumstances have shifted, yet the fundamental conviction remains unchanged. We, no less than Abraham, are people of faith in God’s life-giving power.

Excursus: Implications of Christ’s Documented Resurrection

It is well to pause here and to consider most carefully the significance of the documented and bodily nature of Christ’s resurrection. Let us, for a moment, engage in an exercise which the imaginative mind may pursue—let us suppose, counterfactually, that Christ’s resurrection had not been a matter of public record, a historical event witnessed by many, recorded and testified unto throughout the land.

Suppose that Christ, after His passion and crucifixion, had been raised in some unseen manner, perhaps in the darkness of night or in some hidden place, with no witness save God Himself. Suppose that Jesus had entered into glory silently, leaving no mark upon the world, no testimony that might convince the hearts of humanity that He had indeed been raised. What then? Would it not have been extremely difficult for the disciples to maintain their faith? How impossible would it have been for them to convince others that this Jesus of Nazareth was indeed the Son of God, worthy of their allegiance and their love.

But the record gives us something far different. The resurrection of Christ was a documented event. Women came to the sepulchre and found it empty. The disciples saw the risen Lord. More than five hundred disciples saw Him at one time, as Paul testifies in 1 Corinthians 15:6. This resurrection was not hidden; it was proclaimed throughout Jerusalem, and it was proclaimed with such power that the disciples, who had fled in fear after Christ’s death, were transformed into men and women willing to suffer, to be imprisoned, and ultimately to be martyred rather than deny the resurrection of Christ.

The bodily resurrection of Christ—this extraordinary, documented, public vindication of Jesus Christ—served as God’s seal of approval upon all that Christ had taught and claimed. When God raised Jesus from the dead, when He caused the sealed grave to burst forth with the risen body of the Christ, He was declaring to all the cosmos: This man is My Son. All that He has taught is true. All that He has claimed concerning Himself is validated. I stand behind His every word, His every work, and His sacrificial death for the sins of humanity.

Without this resurrection, we would be left to accept the teachings of Christ upon no firmer foundation than our own judgment of their wisdom. With this resurrection, we possess a foundation that cannot be shaken. The raising of Christ from the dead is not merely an article of the Christian faith; it is the very validation of the Christian faith. It is God’s own testimony that Jesus is Lord, that His sacrifice was accepted, that all who believe in Him shall likewise be raised to everlasting life.

Thus does the documented resurrection strengthen our faith immeasurably. We are not asked to believe in some invisible, untestable claim. We are asked to believe in an event that occurred in history, that was witnessed by many, and that was recorded for our instruction and edification. And because we believe in this historical resurrection of Christ, we may with confidence believe that we too shall be raised from the dead. For the God who had power to raise Jesus from the grave has the same power to raise us.

The Gospel in Two Clauses (vs. 25)

²⁵ He was delivered over to death for our sins and was raised to life for our justification.

We now come to verse 25, a verse of such magnificence and such concentrated truth that it has captured the attention and admiration of the greatest scholars and divines throughout the history of the Church. The verse reads thus: “He was delivered over to death for our sins and was raised to life for our justification.”

Martin Luther, that great champion of the Reformation, upon reading this verse, declared it to be “a little covenant in which all Christianity is comprehended.” Charles Hodge, that learned commentator upon the Epistles of Paul, called this verse “the greatest truth ever given to mortal man” and affirmed that it contains “the essence of the Bible.” These are not the exaggerations of mere enthusiasts, but rather the sober assessments of people learned in the Scriptures, people who have devoted their lives to its study.

The structure of verse 25 is most instructive. It presents to us two clauses, joined by the conjunction “and,” each clause speaking of a different, yet related, aspect of our salvation:

First clause: “He was delivered over to death for our sins.”

Second clause: “He was raised to life for our justification.”

These are not merely two parts of the same event. Rather, they represent two distinct acts, two separate movements in the work of salvation, though they are intimately connected and interdependent. The first clause speaks of atonement—the payment made by Christ for the sins of the world. The second clause speaks of justification—the legal declaration by which the redeemed are accounted righteous before God.

It is here most necessary to pause and to set forth clearly a distinction that is fraught with tremendous importance for our understanding of the Gospel, and yet a distinction that is frequently overlooked or confused in the preaching and teaching of the Church. This is the distinction between atonement and justification—two acts of salvation that are related, yet distinct; that are dependent upon one another, yet not automatic one from the other.

When we speak of atonement, we speak of the covering or payment for sin. It is the work accomplished by Christ upon the cross, wherein He “gave himself as a ransom for all people,” as Paul writes to Timothy (1 Timothy 2:5–6). The atonement is universal in its scope. Christ did not die merely for the sins of the elect, nor did He die only for those who would believe upon Him. Rather, as John testifies in his First Epistle: “[Christ] is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world” (1 John 2:2).

Consider this most carefully: Christ died for the sins of every human being who has ever lived upon the face of the earth. His sacrifice was sufficient for all. The blood that was shed upon Golgotha’s tree was of infinite value, capable of washing away the sins of multitudes beyond number. In this sense, the atonement is complete, finished, accomplished at the moment Christ yielded up His spirit on the cross.

Yet here is the paradox, the great mystery that requires our careful attention: though Christ died for the sins of the whole world, not all of humanity is saved. Though the price has been paid for all, not all receive the benefits of that payment. This is where justification enters—the legal declaration by which God accounts certain individuals as righteous. And justification, unlike atonement, is not automatic upon all. It is applied only to those who meet a specific criterion, which we shall presently explore.

To illustrate this distinction by means of analogy: suppose that a wealthy and benevolent king learns that many of his subjects are imprisoned for debt, unable to pay the ransom that would set them free. In his compassion, the king determines to pay the ransom for all his subjects—a vast sum that he draws from his own treasury. He sends forth a proclamation to every prison, announcing that the ransom has been paid, and that all prisoners may go free. The payment is made; it is complete and universal. Yet despite this universal payment, some prisoners remain in their cells. They hear the news, but do not believe it. They feel they are being tricked, and reject the gift. They refuse to step forth and claim their freedom. They remain imprisoned, not because the ransom has not been paid—for it has been—but because they have not received what has been paid on their behalf. Thus the payment and the reception of freedom are two distinct events, though the latter is impossible without the former.

Even so it is with Christ’s sacrifice and our justification. Christ paid the ransom for all; the atonement is complete and universal. But justification—the legal declaration of righteousness—comes only to those who receive what Christ has accomplished, who believe upon Him and His work. The atonement was accomplished two thousand years ago upon a hill called Golgotha. Justification comes to each believer at the moment he believes, whenever that moment may occur.

Now here is a truth of utmost importance: by virtue of having paid the ransom for all mankind, Christ has been invested with a most extraordinary authority. He holds the power to determine who shall be justified and who shall not. This is the significance of His office as mediator. Paul writes concerning this in Romans 8:33–34: “Who shall bring a charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is he who condemns? It is Christ who died, and furthermore is also risen, who is even at the right hand of God, who also makes intercession for us.” Mark well these words: “It is God who justifies”—but on what basis does God justify? The answer is: on the basis of Christ’s intercession! Christ, having died and risen, now sits at the right hand of God, “making intercession for us.” When we stand before God, condemned in ourselves, found guilty by the Law, Christ intercedes for us, saying: “I have paid the price for this soul; I stand as his mediator; let him be justified in My name.”

And what gives Christ the right and the authority to serve as mediator? The answer is found in His death—in the atonement. Because Christ died for us, because He paid the ransom, God has made Him the mediator through whom all justification must flow. As Paul again writes: “For there is one God and one mediator between God and mankind, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all people” (1 Tim. 2:5–6). Note the close connection: Christ is mediator because He gave Himself as a ransom.

This concept of mediation—that sinful humans cannot approach the holy God without an intermediary—is not new to the New Testament. It reaches far back into the mists of antiquity, even into the time of Job, whom many scholars believe to have lived likely before the time of Moses, possibly contemporaneously with Abraham. Job, in his profound spiritual distress, came to understand a truth that many in his own time did not fully grasp: that the gulf separating sinful man from the holy God is so vast, so insurmountable, that no human being possessed the power to bridge it. In a passage of extraordinary poignancy, Job gives utterance to this cry: “Even if I washed myself with soap and my hands with cleansing powder, you would plunge me into a slime pit so that even my clothes would detest me. He is not a mere mortal like me that I might answer him, that we might confront each other in court. If only there were someone to mediate between us, someone to bring us together, someone to remove God’s rod from me, so that his terror would frighten me no more” (Job 9:30–34). How poignant are these words! Job understood that his own righteousness, or rather his own attempt to achieve righteousness through his own efforts, was utterly insufficient. He understood that the very holiness of God would transform even his purest efforts into abomination. He cried out for someone—some intermediary who might bridge the chasm, who might stand between himself and God, who might remove God’s righteous judgment and bring about reconciliation.

Christ is the answer to Job’s ancient cry. He is the mediator whom Job foresaw, though he knew not His name nor the manner of His coming. Christ is He who stands between us and God, taking upon Himself the weight of God’s wrath against our sin, bearing our shame, and presenting us faultless before the throne of the Almighty. Through Christ’s mediation, justification is made possible for those who believe.

Having thus established that Christ, by virtue of His payment of the ransom through atonement, holds the authority to determine the basis upon which justification is granted, we must now inquire: what is the criterion that Christ has chosen? What is the condition upon which He exercises His mediatorial authority to pronounce men and women righteous?

The answer is faith—faith alone, and faith accessible to all. This is a truth of astounding grace and generosity. Christ, having paid for all, does not say to mankind: You must earn your righteousness through works; you must keep all the commandments; you must achieve a perfect moral record. No, He says: “Believe in Me. Believe that I am the Son of God. Believe that I died for your sins. Believe that My Father raised Me from the dead. Believe that in My righteousness, I clothe you and present you faultless before My Father.” This criterion is remarkable in its simplicity and its accessibility. A child may meet it. A person of low learning may meet it. A person in the deepest poverty may meet it. A person dying upon a bed of sickness may meet it in the final moments of life. All that is required is faith—a trust, a confidence, a persuasion that Jesus is Lord and Savior, and that through Him alone, justification comes.

Paul makes this explicit in Romans 3:22–24: “This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.” Note the universality of this statement: “to all who believe.” Note the equality: “there is no difference between Jew and Gentile.” All are justified by the same grace, through the same faith, at the same cost—which is the cost that Christ has already paid.

Thus does Christ, in His infinite wisdom and grace, choose a criterion that is both perfectly fair and yet perfectly merciful. It is fair, because the criterion of faith is reasonable and within the capacity of any human being to fulfill. It is merciful, because though we deserve nothing, Christ offers justification to all who will simply believe upon Him.

Returning now to verse 25 and its two clauses, we may now understand the full significance of what Paul does declare:

• “He was delivered over to death for our sins”—this is the atonement, the universal work of Christ, the ransom paid for all.

• “And was raised to life for our justification”—this is the vindication and the initiation of Christ’s mediatorial work. The resurrection of Christ declares that His sacrifice was accepted, that His atonement was complete and effective. And in His resurrection, Christ was invested with the authority and the power to justify all who believe upon Him. The raising of Christ from the dead was, in a very real sense, the inauguration of His mediatorial office.

Together, these two clauses comprise the Gospel message in its fullest and most concentrated form. Atonement and justification, the payment made and the payment applied, the price paid and the benefit received—all are encompassed within these few words. This is indeed, as Luther and Hodge declared, the very essence of the Gospel, the concentrated truth of the Bible.

The Transition to the Practical Outworking of Justification

With verse 25, Paul brings to completion his exposition of the grounds and the means of our justification. The first four chapters of Romans have been devoted to establishing the fact that we are justified by faith, not by works; that this justification comes through Christ alone; that this justification is available to all who believe, whether Jew or Gentile; and that the principle of justification by faith is not new, but was the very means by which Abraham—the father of the faithful—came to stand righteous before God.

Yet this is not the end of Paul’s discourse. Beginning with chapter 5, the apostle turns his attention to the consequences and the implications of our justification. Having established why and how we are justified, Paul proceeds to write concerning what becomes of us when we are justified. What are the effects of justification? What are the benefits that flow from being credited with righteousness? What is the nature of the life that the justified believer does live?

This is the transition that verse 25 accomplishes. It is the hinge upon which the door of the epistle swings from foundation to superstructure, from cause to effect, from the work accomplished on our behalf to the work accomplished within us. The chapters that follow unfold before us the riches of what it means to be a believer, to be one who stands justified before the throne of God, to be one upon whom God’s wrath no longer rests, because Christ has borne it in our stead.

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