Romans 5:1–5 - Results of Justification - 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 Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2 through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. 3 Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, [proven] character; and [proven] character, hope. 5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. — Romans 5:1–5
Before we venture into the magnificent benefits that Paul proclaims in the opening verses of the fifth chapter, let us affix our minds upon that glorious work which constitutes the very ground and springboard of all that follows. The first four chapters of this epistle laid before us the necessity of salvation — who needs it, what the human condition is before God without the work of redemption, and how the sinner may attain righteousness. And having proceeded through that laborious and searching discourse, wherein Paul laid bare the universal condition of humanity — Jew and Gentile alike, all fallen short of the glory of God — we arrived at that pinnacle of apostolic doctrine, the doctrine of justification by grace through faith in Christ alone.
Let us hear again that great declaration from the third chapter, which does summarize the Gospel message in its purest form: “Therefore no one will be declared righteous in God’s sight by the works of the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of our sin. But now apart from the law the righteousness of God has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. 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” (Romans 3:20–24). In those verses, the Gospel is proclaimed in its majesty and simplicity: we are declared righteous in God’s sight — we are justified — by the grace of God alone, through faith in the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.
1 Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, ...
In chapter five, Paul turns from this exposition of how salvation comes to us, and begins to speak directly to those who are already justified, who have embraced this great gift of salvation through faith in Christ. And here is wisdom: justification is not merely a forensic acquittal, a momentary legal transaction that belongs only to the moment of our conversion. No, rather, justification has results — fruits and benefits that spring forth immediately in this present life, and continue throughout all eternity. And it is of these precious benefits that Paul now does discourse, as he speaks to the justified in Christ.
Consider, if you will, what a fearful condition you were under before justification came. God is a being of perfect holiness and perfect righteousness, who cannot endure the presence of sin, whose eyes are too pure to look upon iniquity. And you, O reader, was at enmity with this God — at war with Him, as it were, through the rebellion of your sinful nature. There could be no reconciliation, no peace, no standing before His throne, so long as your sins remained unforgiven and unatoned. The wrath of God hung over you as a storm cloud over the seas, gathering itself for descent.
Now mark what justification accomplishes. The term itself bears within it a truth of surpassing wonder. To be justified means to be declared righteous in God’s sight — not to be made righteous in your conduct (though sanctification shall work that transformation by degrees), but to be declared, in the reckoning of the Almighty, to be righteous. And here is the heart of it: to be justified means that God views one “just-as-if-I’d” never had sinned. The sins that weighed upon you as mountains of iron have been removed from you as far as the east is from the west. They have been cast into the depths of the sea, never to be recovered. You stand before your Creator clothed not in your own filthy rags of self-righteousness, but arrayed in the spotless garments of Christ’s righteousness, imputed to you through faith. It is just as Paul has written in verse 1: “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
This is no mere change of feeling or sentiment on God’s part — it is a change in your entire standing before Him. And because God now views your as one who has never sinned, you can enter His presence without violating His holiness. You are no longer a trespasser in His temple, no longer an intruder upon His throne of grace. The barrier has been demolished. The wall of separation has crumbled, stone by stone, through the work of Christ upon the cross. And therefore, as Paul declares it, “we have peace with God.”
Observe the particular meaning of the word “peace” as Paul employs it here. In this case, he speaks not yet of an inward peace of mind, nor of the tranquility of conscience that comes to the believer — though these shall follow in their season. Rather, he speaks of “peace” in the sense that people speak of war and peace between nations. Formerly, you were at war with God. The God of heaven and earth regarded you as His enemy, one who had rebelled against His law and spurned His authority. The entire universe, under His dominion, was arrayed against you. But now that you have been “justified through faith,” that dreadful warfare has ended. The hostilities have ceased. The treaty has been signed in the blood of Christ. You are no longer at war with your Creator.
And yet, mark this carefully: this outward peace with God is the necessary and indispensable precondition for that other peace, that inward peace of which people speak when they say, “All I desire is peace in my life.” For how could anyone have true “peace” in their lives, if their conscience is at war with itself? What good is “peace” in one’s day-to-day doings, if one’s spirit is riven with fear and guilt? Many are they who have sought for peace of mind while ignoring the primary peace which must come first — “peace with God.” Their efforts are as fruitless as the building of a house upon sand while a flood approaches. They seek to soothe their conscience through philosophies and self-help, through meditation and outward tranquility, never addressing the root cause of their spiritual disquietude.
But your conscience, dear reader, your conscience shall not permit you to enjoy inward peace until you have first resolved your relationship with God. Your conscience knows — whether you acknowledge it or not — that there is a God who is holy, and a judgment that awaits all people. And it shall prick you, and wound you, and deny to you that inward peace, until you have made your peace with Him whose law your conscience does recognize. Therefore, it is only after you have obtained “peace with God” through justification that the pathway opens unto you that precious inward peace — peace of mind, peace of conscience, peace of spirit. And that inward peace is made possible not only by the cessation of God’s wrath, but by the gift of the Holy Spirit, whom Jesus Himself called the Comforter, who dwells within the heart of the believer and fills it with assurance of God’s love and of the believer’s future security.
And mark well this phrase that Paul appends: “through our Lord Jesus Christ” (vs. 1). For this phrase contains a truth of the utmost importance. This peace comes not through any other means whatsoever. It comes not through the works of the law. It comes not through priestly intercession or ecclesiastical authority. It comes not through Mary, nor through the saints, nor through any named mediator save One. It comes “through our Lord Jesus Christ,” and through Him alone.
For there are many in this world who say, “I believe in God. I am a theist. I acknowledge the existence of the Almighty.” And they flatter themselves that this bare belief suffices, that they are at peace with God, that no further matter needs to be attended to. But oh, how greatly do they deceive themselves! Mere belief in God — the acknowledgment that He exists — is not sufficient. The very demons, Scripture tells us, believe that God exists, and tremble (see James 2:19). But they are not justified. They do not have “peace with God.” For such belief, standing alone, does nothing whatsoever to reconcile a sinful human to a holy God. Such a faith does not address the fundamental problem: that each person has sinned, and the wages of sin is death.
Only through faith in Christ — faith that Jesus is the Son of God, that He has offered Himself as an atoning sacrifice for sin, that His blood was shed for the remission of sins — only through such faith can justification come. And only through justification can “peace with God” be obtained. Therefore, when Paul speaks of this peace, he speaks of a peace that comes “through our Lord Jesus Christ,” and he speaks with authority and finality. There is no other way. There is no alternate route. No other name has been given under heaven whereby people can be saved.
2 ... through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God.
In verse 2, Paul enumerates a major benefit of our being justified inj the eyes of God: “... we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand.” We have access to the “grace” of the Creator of the Universe. Consider for a moment the value of such “access.” Let us look at a human analogy. A man desired an audience with a great king — a monarch of vast dominions, robed in splendor, seated upon a throne — in order to make a request. This man went to the palace and addressed himself to the guards at the gate. “I desire an audience with the king,” said he. “I have a petition to lay before him.” The guards, regarding him with indifference, pointed to a line of petitioners that stretched forth from the throne room, around corridors, down staircases, across moats, and disappeared into the distance. “Join the line,” said they, and there seemed no hope that this humble man would ever attain his desired audience.
But then — what is this? A figure approaches the gates, and the guards immediately part to allow passage. It is a young man, richly dressed, and with him comes our petitioner’s friend. The guards bow and allow them to pass directly through, without the slightest hindrance. In astonishment, our petitioner inquires of one standing near: “Who was that man, who was waived directly into the palace?” And the reply comes: “That is the king’s son. He always has immediate access; he passes through without delay or question.”
Thus is the value, even in this fallen world, of “access” to power. It is not the achievement of reaching a destination through laborious waiting and persistent effort. Rather, it is the gaining of a special passage, whereby one is escorted directly into the presence of one of great power and authority, bypassing all the usual means and formalities. And Paul employs this very image, saying, “through [Christ] we have gained access” (vs. 2) — through Christ, God’s only Son, we have been given that most remarkable of privileges.
The ordinary condition of sinful humanity is separation from God. Humans are at a distance from the divine throne, barred by their own wickedness, unable to draw near. The very holiness of God establishes a wall of separation. But through Christ — through union with Him and faith in His redemptive work — that wall has been breached. The way has been made open. We who were far off have been brought nigh. We possess, through Him, immediate and direct access unto the very throne of God.
And lest we imagine this to be Paul’s personal invention or fancy, let us hear the words of our Lord Jesus Himself, who spoke thus in the gospel of John: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). How plain is this declaration! How absolute and without equivocation! Not “I am a way among many ways,” but “I am the way.” Not “No one comes to the Father primarily or preferably through me,” but “No one comes to the Father except through me.” In these words, Christ shuts the door upon all alternative routes, all other supposed mediators, all other supposed means of access that bypass His person and work. Through no priest, through no confession to an intermediary, through no penance or good work, through no pilgrimage or veneration of saints — through none of these things can access to the Father be gained. Access comes through Christ alone.
And the writer of Hebrews, that mighty theologian of the New Testament, enlarges upon this truth with eloquence and warmth: “Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess.... Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need” (Hebrews 4:14, 16).
Observe the exhortation here! We are not told to cower in fear before the throne of God, to inch forward hesitantly and timidly, casting furtive glances about lest we offend the Almighty by our presence. No! Rather, we are bidden to approach with “confidence.” And what is the warrant for this “confidence”? It is that Christ, the great High Priest, has ascended into heaven and appears before the Father on our behalf. The way is open. The door stands wide. We may come “boldly.”
And Paul himself, in his epistle to the Ephesians, proclaims the selfsame truth: “In [Christ] and through faith in him we may approach God with freedom and confidence” (Eph. 3:12). “Freedom and confidence” — what magnificent words! Not bondage, not slavery to fear, not the servile approach of one who expects to be cast out. Rather, “freedom” — the freedom of a child who knows himself beloved by his father — and “confidence,” the assurance that the approach is welcome, that the petition shall be heard with favor. And this “freedom” and “confidence” come to us through faith in Christ.
And this free and confident access to God gives us hope, just as Paul expresses: “... and we boast in the hope of the glory of God” (vs. 2). With this privileged access, how can it be that we do not have “hope”? We who have been justified through faith, we who have peace with God, we who possess direct and immediate access to the very throne of the Almighty — how can our hearts be anything but full of “hope”? And specifically, we “boast” in this hope. We boast — we glory, we take pride and exultation — in the “hope” that one day we shall behold “the glory of God” face to face, that we shall dwell in His presence in splendor and majesty forever.
And this “hope” is not a mere wistful fancy, a pretty dream with no substance. Rather, it is grounded in solid reality. We have “peace with God” (vs. 1) — this peace is sure, ratified in the blood of Christ. We have “access” to God’s grace (vs. 2) — this access is real and immediate, purchased by Christ’s ascension. And therefore, it follows as the night follows the day, that we shall inherit “the glory of God.” For if God has made peace with us, if He has opened His throne to us, shall He then reject us in the end? Shall He cast us out after having called us in? The very love that brought us to justification guarantees our ultimate glorification. And this is the substance of our “hope.”
The Chain of Spiritual Formation (vss. 3–5)
3 Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, [proven] character; and [proven] character, hope. 5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
At this point in Paul’s discourse, one might well imagine the apostle to be approaching a fitting conclusion, having laid before his readers the magnificent benefits of justification — peace with God, access to grace, hope of glory. And yet, just as the reader is settling into contentment, Paul turns the discourse in a direction that must have struck many as altogether unexpected and troubling. “Not only so,” he says, “but we also glory in our sufferings” (vs. 3).
“Glory in our sufferings?” one might exclaim. “Rejoice in our afflictions? Boast of our trials?” It seems contrary to all human inclination. And yet Paul makes this declaration with full authority and solemnity, and he gives reasons for it that are rooted in the deepest theology and the clearest realism about the nature of our existence in this fallen world.
For we must understand that we do still live in a world under the curse of sin. Though the believer has been justified and has peace with God, yet he dwells still in a cosmos that groans and travails in pain, waiting for redemption. And Jesus Himself, when He walked among His disciples, promised them not exemption from trouble, but rather the opposite: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). The Master does not deceive His followers with false assurances of comfort and ease. The way of the Christian in this world is not a path strewn with rose petals, but rather a path that ascends through valleys and over mountains, through tempests and trials.
And here is a critical point to understand: whereas before justification the believer’s sufferings were meaningless, random afflictions thrown upon him by an indifferent cosmos, now his sufferings have meaning. They are not accidents; they are not punishments from God’s wrath, for that wrath has been satisfied in Christ. Rather, they are permitted by God as instruments of our sanctification and growth, as means whereby God perfects His work in us and prepares us for glory. The trial that comes upon the believer is not the same as the trial that comes upon the unbeliever. It is transfigured by the love of God. It is redeemed. It is made to work toward good. For, as Paul declares later in this Epistle: “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Rom. 8:28).
Why, then, does God permit His justified people to face the same trials and tribulations as the world? Let’s look at two reasons for this, two answers of profound importance:
First, the Christian must face trials in order that he might relate to the unbelieving world and bear witness to it. The believer, by undergoing the same sorts of afflictions and difficulties as those who do not yet know Christ, gains the right and the ability to speak to them with empathy and credibility. He can say to them, “Yes, I have walked that path. I have experienced that sorrow. I have faced that temptation.” This sympathy, this shared experience, is an invaluable tool in the hand of the gospel. When a believer testifies to an unbeliever of his faith, and the unbeliever can see that the believer has endured the same trials that afflict all humanity, yet has been sustained through them by God’s grace — this becomes a powerful witness. The unbeliever sees that Christianity is not escapism, not a flight from reality, but rather a real and victorious way of meeting the trials of this world head-on, with courage and faith and the power of God’s Spirit.
Second, and more theologically profound still, is this: if Christians were exempt from trials, then God would effectively be buying the faith of His people. If it were the case that believers in Christ would experience no sickness, no poverty, no loss, no grief — in short, no suffering whatsoever — then what would be the true motivation for men to embrace Christianity? Would they come to Christ because they understood His sacrifice, because they were moved by the love of God that sent His Son to die for sinners, because they desired to honor Him and serve Him? No. They would come to Christ for the practical benefits. They would become believers not because they loved God, but because they loved comfort. They would embrace the gospel not because they were transformed by the grace of Christ, but because they desired to secure for themselves a life of prosperity and ease.
And this is precisely why the health-and-wealth gospel — that faulty teaching which preaches that God promises His people financial success and freedom from disease — is so profoundly wrong and damaging. When a preacher stands up and declares, “If you come to Christ, all your problems shall vanish,” he attempts to buy one’s faith with false promises. He transforms Christianity from a religion of redemption and grace into a transactional arrangement: “I will believe in Christ, but only if He gives me what I want.” And such a faith is not true faith at all. Far from being exempt from troubles, we shall boast, or rejoice, or “glory in our sufferings,” and trials, and afflictions.
But Paul does not leave us in mere exhortation to endure. He gives us a reason for glorying in our sufferings, and this reason is the fruit that flows from them: “because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, [proven] character; and [proven] character, hope” (vs. 3). Suffering, properly endured in faith, produces a chain of spiritual development of astonishing beauty and worth.
“Perseverance” is the first link in this chain. It is that quality whereby one continues onward through trial and difficulty, not ceasing from one’s labor or one’s service to God despite the adversities that assail. The Christian who has suffered and, through God’s grace, endured through that suffering, has thereby acquired the character trait of “perseverance.” He knows through experience that it is possible to endure. He has tasted victory. He has come through to the other side. And this knowledge transforms him. When the next trial comes upon the horizon, he does not despair as he might once have done. He remembers his former trial, his former “perseverance,” his former deliverance. He says to himself, “I have endured this before. By God’s grace, I can endure again.” And so the experience of past suffering prepares him for future endurance, each trial adding yet another stone to the edifice of his “perseverance.”
Proven “character” follows upon “perseverance,” and here we must attend carefully to the precise meaning of the word as it appears in the original Greek. Nearly every scholar who has examined this passage notes that the Greek term translated “character” in the NIV, contains within it the connotation of that which has been tested and proved — a proofing like that of a coin that has been tested in the assayer’s furnace and found to be genuine, or like that of a soldier who has been tested in battle and proven to be valiant. The “character” described here has endured a testing, and been proven valid.
When we persevere through trials, we thereby prove our “character” — both to others and, equally importantly, to ourselves. Others behold us going through afflictions with faith and courage, and they say, “This person has a character that can endure.” And this proven “character” becomes a powerful witness to the world, drawing questions like, “How did you endure that trial?” to which the believer may answer, “By the grace of God, by the power of His Spirit working within me.”
But more than this, the believer proves his “character” even to himself. There is a confidence that comes from having persevered. The believer says within his heart, “I have gone through fire and come out unburned. I have endured the flood and was not carried away. I have faced the valley of the shadow of death and God has walked with me. I have proven to myself that, by God’s grace, I am capable of perseverance.” And such a proven “character” for Christian is an invaluable trait.
“Hope,” the final link in the chain, flows from proven “character.” At first blush, this may seem counter-intuitive. One might expect that suffering and trials would destroy “hope,” not produce it. And so they do, if the sufferer has no faith, no God, no assurance of care. But for the believer, suffering — when endured through faith and “perseverance,” when proven “character” has been thus fashioned — produces “hope” because it produces certainty. We have persevered before. We have proven ourselves before. We have experienced God’s faithfulness before. Therefore, we can face the future — whatever it may bring — with confidence that we shall persevere again, that God shall prove faithful again, that we shall yet stand. And this is the “hope” of which Paul speaks: not a thin optimism or pleasant fancy, but the robust, experiential “hope” of one who knows through proven trial that God is faithful.
Paul next gives us a beautiful and reassuring word concerning this “hope”: “And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (vs. 5). In other words, this hope of ours shall not fail us. It shall not disappoint us at the last day. It shall not prove to be a false confidence that crumbles when put to the test. Why? Because our hope is not grounded in our own strength, nor in our own perseverance, nor even in our proven character. Rather, it is grounded in something far more solid and eternal: “God’s love, which has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.”
Consider the image here. “God’s love” is not a distant thing, not something that exists far away in the heavens, requiring us to strain and reach for it. Rather, it “has been poured out” — the metaphor suggests abundance, overflow, the fullness of a vessel being emptied onto us. And it is “poured out into our hearts,” not merely into our minds or into the external circumstances of our lives. It is the deepest, most intimate part of our being that is flooded with the love of God. And the agent through whom this love is poured out is the “Holy Spirit, whom God has given unto us” — not temporarily, not contingently, but as a gift permanent and sure. This, then, is the ultimate foundation of the believer’s hope. The very presence of the Holy Spirit within us is a pledge, a guarantee, an earnest of the glory that awaits us.
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