Tag: Ephesians 2

What is Faith?

Faith is at the heart of salvation, as Paul makes clear in Romans 2–4. Abraham was justified by faith, not by works, so that salvation would be a gift of grace and not something earned (Romans 4:2–3). The picture Paul paints is that of absolute dependence on God, where even the smallest notion of taking credit for our salvation is absurd.

Think about it like this: In the movie Aladdin (1992), there’s a moment where Aladdin is drowning, and Genie, bound by the rules of magic, cannot save him unless Aladdin makes a wish. Aladdin, nearly unconscious, appears to nod his head, which Genie interprets as permission to act. Genie then rescues him. It would be laughable for Aladdin to boast afterward about saving himself. He played no active role in his own rescue; his faint acknowledgment was simply the condition through which the saving power of Genie could be applied.

Faith is like that. It is not a work or a contribution to salvation; it’s the means by which God’s grace is activated in our lives. Ephesians 2:8–9 underscores this: “For by grace you are saved through faith, and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so that no one can boast” (NET). Faith doesn’t earn salvation—it’s merely the channel through which grace flows. It’s as though God says, “Will you trust me to save you?” and our faith is the feeble nod that says, “Yes.”

Abraham’s story embodies this beautifully. When God promised him descendants as numerous as the stars, Abraham had no reason to believe based on his circumstances. His body was as good as dead, and Sarah’s womb was barren (Romans 4:19). Yet Abraham’s faith wasn’t about his ability to bring about the promise but about trusting that God would do what He said He would do (Romans 4:20–21). That’s what God counted as righteousness.

Here’s where this becomes a challenge for us. Do we have Abraham-like faith? Are we fully relying on God’s grace, or are we subtly trying to “help” God save us? Maybe we feel the need to perform, to prove ourselves worthy of His love. But true faith lays all of that down. It acknowledges our inability and rests entirely in His ability.

Faith isn’t about earning or even contributing to salvation. It’s about surrendering completely and trusting God to accomplish what we never could. Like Aladdin, who needed rescuing when he could do nothing to save himself, we nod our heads and trust in the One who lifts us from certain death into eternal life.

Rites, Rituals, or Relationship?

The vision given to Peter in Acts 10 was a pivotal moment that fundamentally changed the understanding of righteousness within the early Christian community. Peter’s vision didn’t just signal a shift in dietary laws or the inclusion of Gentiles; it marked a transformative shift in what it means to be right with God. No longer was righteousness about a series of rites and rituals or strict adherence to cleanliness laws. Instead, it became about redemption—a new covenant founded on grace, received through faith, and evidenced by the overflow of good deeds as a response to God’s love.

Peter’s initial reaction in Acts 10, where he recoils from the idea of eating anything “impure,” represents his ingrained adherence to the Law as the means to holiness. But God responds by shifting his perspective: “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean” (Acts 10:15). This response encapsulates the gospel’s transformative power, a shift from “do this to be clean” to “you are clean; go and live it.” The moment Peter understood that no external act of cleanliness or ritual was needed to enter into right standing with God, it opened the door to something remarkable—a new motivation for good works rooted in gratitude rather than obligation.

Under the old covenant, a person’s deeds were often driven by a sense of duty. Rites and rituals maintained a relationship with God, but it was a relationship heavily weighted by the need to maintain purity and fulfill ceremonial obligations. In Christ, however, we’re given a different foundation: the righteousness of Christ. Our standing is secure because Jesus accomplished what we could not; He was the “once for all” sacrifice (Hebrews 10:10). This assurance allows us to perform good works as an act of devotion and gratitude, rather than as a duty imposed by law.

The beauty of this reversal lies in the order: we’re not working our way to holiness, but rather, we’re invited to let holiness work in us and through us. Paul writes about this transformation in Ephesians 2:10, saying, “We are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” In other words, good works are the fruit of our relationship with God, not the root.

Peter’s encounter led him to a new way of seeing both God and people. The call to holiness was no longer an isolated adherence to the rules, but an invitation to reflect God’s love to all people, Jew and Gentile alike. When he declares in Acts 10:34-35, “God does not show favoritism but accepts from every nation the one who fears him and does what is right,” it’s a revelation: holiness has been redefined. Relationship—not ritual—takes precedence, and our lives become expressions of this connection.

Today, it’s easy to slip into a mindset where we still feel that “being right with God” is something we have to maintain by doing enough, serving enough, or sacrificing enough. But Jesus already accomplished the “enough.” Instead, we’re called to let His redemption flow outward, so that our deeds become acts of gratitude. This order reversal isn’t just freeing; it’s empowering. We no longer need to strive to make ourselves right with God but are free to let His righteousness transform us and touch the lives of others.

The gospel has always been about a journey from ritual to relationship, from rule-following to redemption. Through Peter’s vision, we’re reminded that in Christ, our acts of love and service are not attempts to earn God’s favor; they’re joyful responses to a favor already given. As we live out our faith, may we remember that we are free to serve, free to love, and free to walk in holiness—not as a way to reach God but as the beautiful outworking of having already been reached by His grace.