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(A ten-minute read.)
(Note: I feel like I’ve been saying this a lot lately, but this is another long piece. But I think it may be one of the most important—and perhaps personally exciting—theological reflections I’ve shared in this newsletter, containing fresh and new insights. Truly, I didn’t go looking for this topic; it came looking for me. So please, please, please give it a careful and thoughtful read. And if you make it to the end, there’s some “bonus content” from N. T. Wright’s writings, largely affirming—I do believe—much of what I’ve laid out. Enjoy! And please give me your feedback!)
As I shared last week—in a piece that was perhaps a little more dry, heady, long, and theological than some prefer—I tried my hand at defining the “gospel.”
After providing a brief overview of how the various New Testament writers defined the concept, I proposed that the gospel is, in brief, the good news of what God has done, is doing, and will do to accomplish the full restoration of his kingdom of love in the universe.
But then, in closing, I made reference to a passage that is the most surprising—and perhaps unsettling and confusing—exposition on the “gospel” I’ve ever come across.
It’s from Paul, near the beginning of the letter that perhaps has been the most influential source of gospel-encouragement within Protestant history—which makes the passage all the more surprising and puzzling.
There, in the second chapter of Romans, as Paul’s reflecting on how both Jews and non-Jews are in the same moral boat—alienated from God and not living according to his ways—he declares that there will be a “day when God will judge the secrets of men by Jesus Christ.” And then he adds, “according to my gospel” (Romans 2:16).
Come again?
That God will judge even the “secrets of men” is troubling enough. But to then actually call this idea “good news” is even crazier.
For many people, especially those who come from certain corners of Protestant Christianity (including the young man I referred to last week), this passage is either “white noise” or a “black box.”
Truly, it doesn’t seem like they have the theological resources to make sense of it.
There are others, like some within my faith community, who perhaps break out in a cold sweat at the thought of it.
Seventh-day Adventists, after all, have famously—or perhaps infamously—touted an idea that has been traditionally called the “investigative judgment,” in which God will perform a work of judgment based on works prior to Christ’s return.
The teaching has been controversial essentially from its inception, and has led to the denomination’s most heated and protracted debates (and notable exits).
It’s also probably the single biggest reason why so many Protestant thinkers—at least those who try to zealously guard the borders of Protestantism—have tried to kick us out of the Protestant club.
And yet, there’s Paul, awkwardly and inconveniently declaring that there will be a “day” when even “the secrets of men” will be judged by Jesus Christ.
And he has the audacity to claim that this is good news!
Actually, this isn’t an isolated sentiment expressed by Paul—even in his letter to the Romans. After all, in chapter 14, he doubles down on this idea and says that we must “all stand before the judgment seat of Christ” and “give account” of ourselves to God (vv. 10-12).
Elsewhere, he again affirms this idea when he tells Timothy that Jesus will one day “judge the living and the dead” (1 Timothy 4:1), and announces to the Athenians that God “has appointed a day on which He will judge the world in righteousness” (Acts 17:31).
Nor is Paul the only New Testament figure to peddle this concept.
Peter echoes this sentiment, declaring to Cornelius that Christ “was ordained by God to be Judge of the living and the dead” (Acts 10:42), and proposing in his first epistle that we will all have to “give an account to Him who is ready to judge the living and the dead” (1 Peter 4:5), adding a few verses later that this judgment will “begin at the house of God” (v. 17).
Then, of course, there’s Jesus, who repeatedly affirms this idea.
In perhaps his clearest and most sobering statement on the topic, he declares that “nothing is secret that will not be revealed, nor anything hidden that will not be known and come to light” (Luke 8:17).
What I also find extremely fascinating is the last time the term “gospel” is used in the whole New Testament. It’s in the book of Revelation—and it’s also the only time the Bible ever refers to it as the “everlasting gospel.”
In Revelation 14, John sees an angel flying through the sky, and he’s declaring the “everlasting gospel.”
And what’s the content of this gospel—this good news?
“Fear God and give glory to Him,” the angel urges, “for the hour of His judgment has come” (v. 7).
It’s hard to get around it. The New Testament—from Paul to Peter to Jesus to John—seems to unequivocally declare that there’s a judgment coming, carried out by Jesus himself, that will bring everything into the light. Even the deepest and darkest secrets we have will be exposed.
There will be no hiding.
And, oh by the way, they call this judgment good news!
What in the world is going on?
Truly being “gospel” people
As I hinted at above, it’s hard to make sense of how a judgment based on works could be “good news” if it’s approached purely from a strict Reformed Protestant perspective.
There’s much to commend about that theological system, of course—but it has, in my opinion, significant short-comings and doesn’t see the full gospel picture.
In that system, the gospel is presented as a response to a system of merit and what some theologians call “works righteousness.” Essentially, the primary issue God’s trying to solve is how to give sinful humans the legal “right” to live eternally.
Thus, the equation is simple: we’re sinners who deserve God’s wrath because of our sin. But Jesus took our place and suffered God’s wrath so we can benefit from his vicarious atonement. Our good works can’t earn or merit anything, because we’re never perfect and never will be. So our qualification for eternal life is based on Christ’s work rather than our own. We’re saved solely by the righteousness and sacrifice of Christ.
Furthermore, if we’re going to ever pass any sort of judgment, we’ll pass it not because of our own works but because of Christ’s work. Left to ourselves—and if our behavior was brought into consideration in any judgment—there’s no way any of us would pass the test, because we’re all sinners who continually sin.
So when we stand before the judgment seat of Christ and God looks at us, he sees Christ rather than us.
And this is good news. In fact, it’s the good news—the gospel.
And to this I say, “Amen!”
But I also say it’s not the whole gospel picture—and merely one way to understand and relate to the good news.
And I don’t think when Paul (and the other New Testament thinkers) talked about a judgment, they had Calvin’s “works righteousness” concerns in mind. That was not their context or target.
I think, instead, they were using a bigger gospel lens.
And we should instead consider this idea against the backdrop of the “gospel of the kingdom” that Jesus spoke of.
We need to recognize that God’s not only interested in giving us the legal grounds to be a part of his kingdom; he’s also trying to fully restore the character of his kingdom—including in our hearts.
Indeed, as I said above in my summary of the gospel, God is trying to fully restore his kingdom of love—and that’s good news.
And this judgment is an integral part of that process.
This is thus why Paul can say that a judgment based on works—which will bring even the “secrets of men” into the light—is good news.
Essentially, Paul’s saying that no one will slip into God’s kingdom who might be unsafe for other members of that kingdom. There’ll be no one who makes a profession of Christ with their lips but whose lives don’t reflect, one some level, the character of the King who rules that kingdom.
There’ll be no pretenders in God’s kingdom—people who try to slide in on legal technicalities but who, because they’ve never allowed themselves to be fully vulnerable before God and healed by his love, are unsafe and toxic people.
And this is a message that Christianity desperately needs—and a message that is deeply resonant with so many people who’ve suffered at the hands of Christians (especially Christian leaders) who’ve used the “gospel” as a cover for all manner of toxic and abusive behavior.
Essentially, they’ve used the “blood of Jesus” as an excuse to be awful people. They’ve claimed to be “justified by faith” but never allowed that faith to truly transform them in ways that reflect God’s image.
And Paul says: “I’ve got good news: in God’s kingdom, there’ll be none of that. Everyone will be exposed. Everything will be brought to light. There’ll be no hypocrites, pretenders, or abusive people who sneak in.”
This is why, going back to the original passage I cited from Paul in Romans, he notes in a preceding verse that there’s “no partiality with God” (Roman 2:11). God doesn’t have favorites—people who are the special recipients of his acceptance simply because they claim his name, and those to whom he gives a “free pass” simply because they make a profession of him with their lips.
To that end, Paul then goes on to explain that there are actually some people who aren’t even aware of God’s law and yet who follow it, having God’s law “written in their hearts.” And it’s these people, the “doers of the law,” who “will be justified” (vv. 12-15).
In other words, what God is truly after is not proclamation but demonstration—people who’ve responded to the overtures of his love, whether they’re aware of the source or not, and chosen to reflect that love to others.
It’s then that Paul explains that there’ll come a day when God judges “the secrets of men by Jesus Christ,” and this is “good news.”
So I don’t think, by talking about a judgment based on works, Paul (or Jesus or Peter) was trying to strike fear in the hearts of those who are humbly and genuinely—though imperfectly—trying to be kingdom people, as though their acceptance with God depends on perfect performance.
Just the opposite.
I think it was, partially, intended to be a warning—a shot across the bow—to those who are using the Christian name as a way to abuse and exploit others, and yet who think they’re just going to skate into God’s eternal kingdom without ever being exposed.1
Simply put, the judgment will reveal those who are really God’s and those who aren’t. It won’t be based on labels or titles or those who repeat the right formula or say the right prayer. It won’t be based on those who claim to be living by faith.
It will be reflected in the character of those who have truly embraced God’s kingdom of love and, by faith, are allowing God’s Spirit to make them safer and more loving people.
“Not of works”
This is not to say, if we’re stuck in our patterns of Reformed Protestant thinking, that our works earn our salvation or that we pass the judgment because our lives merit a passing grade.
Neither is it to say that any of us are ever perfect or that the judgment will reveal that we don’t sin—as though we’ve reached a place of sinless perfection.
Paul is also clear in the next chapter in Romans: all have sinned. All continuously fall short of God’s glorious character of love (Romans 3:23).
But the judgment will reveal that those who truly accept Christ’s righteousness are honest, transparent, and vulnerable people—people who admit their helplessness and sin, and are committed to growth and recovery, and progressively, though imperfectly, being conformed into the image of Christ.
They are, in short, people who are not afraid to be exposed because, secure in God’s love for them and in Christ’s work on their behalf, they realize they have nothing to hide because their inner life is matched by their outer life and their acceptance comes from the God who loves them despite their failures and weakness.
And this is, by the way, an extremely attractive and relevant teaching to a generation of people who crave authenticity and who’ve been burned by versions of Christianity which place a premium on pretension and performance but whose fruit is rotten at the core.
To them—and to all of us—Paul and Peter and Jesus and John say: good news! There will come a day when all these pretensions will be exposed and cast down, and everything will be brought to light. There will come a day when people are really seen for who they are and the powers of the world’s kingdoms are cast down.
And, gloriously, we can rest in the assurance that God’s eternal kingdom will only be populated by people who are willing to be exposed—and who are willing to not simply make a profession of the King with their lips, but who are eager to have the character of that King reflected in their lives.
Thus, the Seventh-day Adventist understanding of the so-called “investigative judgment” is nothing to apologize for.
Placed within the framework of the “gospel of the kingdom,” rather than as some answer to the Reformed Protestant concern with “works righteousness,” it’s a gloriously beautiful and reassuring teaching.
It is, indeed, good news.
So, again, in summary: Paul is “all-in” on a final judgment based on works, and he calls this “good news”—not because he has some Reformed Protestant merit-based scheme in mind whereby people have to be good enough to earn their salvation.
He calls it “good news” because this judgment reassures everyone—especially those who’ve been abused by toxic religious people—that there will come a day when all the masks will come off and no one who’s unsafe will find a home in God’s eternal kingdom.
This doesn’t mean we have to be perfect. It just means we have to be honest—we have to embrace vulnerability and openness and exposure, and not be afraid of the light, because God’s eternal kingdom will only be comprised of people who are “naked and unashamed” (see Genesis 2:25).
So in many ways, practicing vulnerability now is the way we practice for God’s eternal kingdom. And those who embrace exposure now won’t have anything to fear then—because nothing will be brought to light then that they haven’t already owned up to now.
On the other hand, all those who run from vulnerability now will have a hard time in that kingdom then, because they’ll be deathly afraid of the light.
So let’s get on with practicing vulnerability now!
Is (the) N. T. right?
If you’ve read this far, I’m essentially done. Congratulations! You got through it. Take a deep breath.
But if you want a little “bonus content,” I have an extended quote from one of my favorite theologians and biblical scholars, N. T. Wright. As is well-documented, Wright has been extremely influential in my thinking—and he’s someone I rejoice to call a “friend” now.
About a decade ago, I sat up in my chair when I came across something he’d written in his book, Justification: God’s Plan & Paul’s Vision, and this whole topic made me think of it again.
Simply put, Wright understands what I’ve outlined above, recognizing that one cannot avoid seeing—if they’re willing—that Paul teaches that there will be a final judgment based on works.
And his insistence on the idea has, like us Adventists, resulted in many people wanting to kick him out of the “Protestant club,” declaring him to be a heretic.
But he’s persisted. And I stand with him.
So let me just quote for you some of his very balanced thoughts on this, stitching together a number of paragraphs that come in his chapter on Romans in the book referenced above:
But, though the idea of a final judgment is common to most Christian theologians, the idea that Paul would insist on such a judgment at which the criterion will be, in some sense, ‘works’, ‘deeds’, or even ‘works of the law’, has naturally been anathema to those who have been taught that his sole word about judgment and justification is that, since justification is by faith, there simply cannot be a final ‘judgment according to works’. I am frequently challenged on this point in public, after lectures and seminars, and my normal reply is that I did not write Romans 2; Paul did.
Nor did I write Romans 14.10-12 . . . .
I understand this anxiety. It grows, not least, out of pastoral concern for those who torture themselves mentally and spiritually with the fear that they may not, after all, have ‘done enough’ to satisfy God at the final judgment. . . .
There have undoubtedly been many Christians down the years who have genuinely believed that ‘the Lord helps those who help themselves’ (some, indeed, who have supposed that that bit of cheerful Pelagianism was found in the Bible!), and who have stumbled on all their lives with just that revolving-door spirituality, sometimes proud of having put God in their debt, sometimes afraid that they had failed to do so, never realizing the glorious truth that we can never put God in our debt and that, according to Jesus himself, we don’t have to. . . .
The problem is—at the level of formal theological method, at least—that those texts about final judgment according to works sit there stubbornly, and won’t go away. . . . [T]here are several passages, not least in key places in Paul himself, where it is clear that the things the Christian is commanded to do are not meant to be a grudging duty only, nor are they meant merely to bring us back into a zero balance before an unsmiling Judge. What the Christian is to do is to please God, to bring a smile to the father’s face, to give him delight, to gladden his heart. ‘Well done, good and faithful servant!’ says the master in Jesus’ parable. So too in Paul. . . .
Please note: this is not the logic of merit. It is the logic of love. Part of the problem with seeing everything in terms of merit (as some mediaevals did, thereby conditioning the thought-world of the Reformation as well), whether it be the merit we should have and can’t produce, the merit which God reckons to us, or whatever, is that even if we get the logic right we are still left with God as a distant bank manager, scrutinizing credit and debit sheets. That is not the heart of Paul’s theology, or that of any other New Testament writer, as it was not the vision of God which Jesus himself lived and taught. . . .
[But] when we put [Paul’s] repeated and developed teaching about the place of the spirit and the place of future judgment side by side, we find that it all fits. Humans become genuinely human, genuinely free, when the spirit is at work within them so that they choose to act, and choose to become people who more and more naturally act (that is the point of ‘virtue’, as long as we realize it is now ‘second nature’, not primary), in ways which reflect God’s image, which give him pleasure, which bring glory to his name, which do what the law had in mind all along. That is the life that leads to the final verdict, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant!’ . . . .
There is, then, for Paul, a final judgment, and it will be ‘according to works’.
So let it be.
Shawn is a pastor in Maine, whose life, ministry, and writing focus on incarnational expressions of faith. The author of four books and a columnist for Adventist Review, he is also a DPhil (PhD) candidate at the University of Oxford, focusing on nineteenth-century American Christianity. You can follow him on Instagram, and listen to his podcast Mission Lab.
For my Adventist readers who are a little more familiar with our background to this teaching, it’s noteworthy that, in Daniel 8, from whence we originally derived this teaching, the “investigative judgment” is seemingly mentioned in response to the corruptive power of the “little horn,” which is perhaps the most dramatic example of corrupt and abusive religious power.
Thanks for the clarity on this. The personal anxieties sometimes of not understanding judgement issues which rarely miss to be mentioned can be real with adverse effects. Nevertheless, I immensely appreciate your exposition and I will say personally, I have made a huge step into the peace of knowing God more in the light of His loving character. I now understand verses like Ecclesiastes 12:14 and Revelation 21:27 (which I think are in line with the topic) with great delight, I can literally feel the burden being light and the calming rest in this area.
Otherwise, I'm a young lady from Africa, loving your work and looking forward to reading more of your articles, they're timely impactful! God bless.
Really enjoyed your rationale for the value of vulnerability! I will come back to NT, but for now I am satisfied with what you, SR ?, wrote, but grateful for what triggered you.