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Imagine a man who has attended church faithfully for thirty years. He tithes without fail, fasts every January, serves on the ushering board, and has never missed a Sunday service. Yet late at night, when the songs have stopped and the crowd has gone home, he lies awake wondering — am I truly right with God? Have I done enough? This question is not unique to one man. It is the quiet anguish of millions of believers who have confused religious activity with righteousness before God. The Apostle Paul addressed this confusion with a declaration so radical that it divided the church in the sixteenth century and continues to provoke debate today: “Therefore we conclude that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law” (Romans 3:28).
To understand what Paul meant, we must first understand the problem he was solving. In the opening chapters of Romans, Paul builds an airtight legal case against all of humanity — Jew and Gentile alike. He shows that the Gentiles sinned against the law written on their conscience (Romans 2:14–15), and that the Jews, who possessed the written Law of Moses, were equally guilty because they broke it repeatedly. His devastating conclusion arrives in Romans 3:23: “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.” The word translated “come short” is a Greek term that means to fall behind, to be deficient, to miss the mark entirely. No amount of religious effort can close that gap. Not circumcision. Not dietary laws. Not church attendance. Not even sincere devotion. The Law, Paul argues, was never designed to produce righteousness — it was designed to reveal the lack of it. “Therefore by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight: for by the law is the knowledge of sin” (Romans 3:20).
So if the Law cannot justify, what can? Paul’s answer is the gospel in miniature: “Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus: Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood” (Romans 3:24–25). The word “justified” here is a forensic, legal term. It does not mean God makes a man morally perfect overnight. It means God declares a man righteous — acquitted, not guilty — on the basis of what Christ has done. The word “propitiation” is equally important. It describes the satisfaction of divine wrath. God is not a lenient grandfather who overlooks sin because He is fond of us. He is a holy Judge whose righteousness demands that sin be punished. Christ absorbed that punishment in our place. And because He did, God can be both “just, and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus” (Romans 3:26). This is the theological heart of Christianity: the cross did not compromise God’s justice — it fulfilled it.
When Paul says “without the deeds of the law” in verse 28, he is not giving believers a licence to live carelessly. This is a common misreading that Paul himself anticipates and rejects: “Shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound? God forbid” (Romans 6:1–2). What Paul is saying is that works performed before justification — religious rituals, moral efforts, ceremonial observance — contribute nothing to the verdict God pronounces over a sinner. The moment a person places genuine faith in Jesus Christ, trusting in His finished work on the cross, God immediately and completely declares that person righteous. Not partially righteous. Not provisionally righteous pending future performance. Fully and finally righteous in His sight. This is what the Reformers called sola fide — faith alone — and it is not a medieval invention. It is Paul’s own argument, rooted in Abraham’s experience centuries before Moses gave the Law: “Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness” (Romans 4:3, quoting Genesis 15:6).
For the Nigerian Christian, this doctrine carries profound and liberating implications. There is a tendency in our church culture to treat salvation as a ladder — a perpetual climb of spiritual disciplines, financial giving, and pastoral favour, where the highest rung is never quite within reach. Pastors sometimes, whether intentionally or not, create an atmosphere where a believer’s sense of acceptance before God fluctuates with their level of activity. This is not the gospel. It is a form of bondage that Paul confronted directly in his letter to the Galatians: “O foolish Galatians, who hath bewitched you, that ye should not obey the truth?” (Galatians 3:1). If your peace before God is determined by your last fast, your last offering, or your last church service, then you have not yet grasped what Romans 3:28 is saying.
Faith in this context is not a vague feeling of positivity toward Jesus. Biblical faith is a complete transfer of trust — away from one’s own merit and onto the person and work of Jesus Christ alone. It is the recognition that you bring nothing to the transaction except your need. The thief on the cross performed no sacrament, completed no course, served no church, and yet Christ said to him: “To day shalt thou be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43). Why? Because in his dying moments, he turned from trusting in himself and placed his entire hope in a crucified king.
This does not mean works are irrelevant to the Christian life. Justification produces transformation. A tree that has been planted by rivers of water will bear fruit — not to earn the water, but because it has received it (Psalm 1:3). The difference is in the order: we do not work in order to be accepted; we work because we have been accepted. Our deeds are the fruit of justification, never the root of it.
If you have been striving, performing, and exhausting yourself trying to earn a standing before God that He has already freely offered in Christ, hear Paul’s conclusion again: you are justified by faith — not by your record, not by your reputation, and not by your religious résumé. Receive it. Rest in it. And let that rest produce in you the kind of life that no amount of striving ever could.