Faith versus Works

The evening sun cast long shadows through the iron-barred window of the rented house on Caelian Hill. Though technically a prison, the dwelling where Paul of Tarsus served his house arrest had become a beacon for Rome’s growing Christian community. The guard stationed outside had grown accustomed to the steady stream of visitors seeking audience with the infamous prisoner who spoke of a Jewish messiah.

On this particular evening, as the bustle of Rome’s streets began to quiet, a figure in a well-worn traveling cloak approached the house. The guard recognized him immediately – Luke, the physician, one of the few visitors allowed extended access to the prisoner. There was something different about his demeanor today; the usually calm doctor carried an air of urgent purpose.

“Peace be with you,” Luke nodded to the guard, who merely grunted and shifted his spear to allow passage. The wooden stairs creaked under Luke’s sandaled feet as he climbed to the upper room where Paul spent his days.

The scene that greeted him was familiar: scrolls and parchments scattered across a simple wooden table, styluses and inkwells carefully arranged, and Paul hunched over in concentrated study. The chains binding his wrist to a guard’s post clinked softly as he looked up, his weather-beaten face breaking into a warm smile.

“Ah, Luke! My faithful friend and physician!” Paul’s voice carried the distinctive accent of a man educated in Tarsus. Despite his imprisonment, his eyes sparkled with the same intensity that had captured Luke’s attention years ago in Troas. “Your face tells me this isn’t a routine visit.”

Luke set down his traveling satchel, heavy with scrolls and writing materials. “No, it isn’t.” He pulled up a wooden stool, its legs scraping against the rough floor. “I’ve received troubling letters from the churches – Antioch, Corinth, even as far as Galatia. There’s confusion, Paul. Confusion that could tear apart everything we’ve worked for.”

Paul leaned forward, the chains rattling slightly. The last rays of sunlight streaming through the window illuminated the grey streaks in his beard. “Tell me.”

Luke pulled out several scrolls, their edges worn from travel. “It’s about your teaching on faith and the law. Some say you contradict James. Others claim your message promotes lawlessness. The debates are becoming… heated.”

A shadow of concern crossed Paul’s face. He had seen such disputes tear communities apart before. “Read me the specific concerns.”

Luke unrolled one of the scrolls, squinting in the fading light. A slave quietly entered to light the oil lamps, casting a warm glow across the room. “Here’s what one elder in Antioch writes: ‘Paul teaches that the Gentiles who do not have the law can be justified by faith, while James clearly states that faith without works is dead. How can both be true?’”

Paul stood, his chains creating a metallic symphony as he began to pace the small room. The guard outside glanced in at the noise but, recognizing the familiar gesture, returned to his post.

“Luke,” Paul began, his voice taking on the passionate tone that had swayed countless audiences, “you’ve traveled with me for years now. You’ve documented our journeys, recorded my teachings. Think back to Philippi, to Thessalonica, to Corinth. Have you ever heard me encourage believers to abandon good works?”

Luke set down the scroll, his medical training evident in his precise movements. “No,” he replied thoughtfully. “In fact, I’ve recorded numerous instances where you emphasized the importance of living lives worthy of the gospel.”

“Exactly!” Paul’s chains jangled as he gestured emphatically. “The issue isn’t whether works are important – they absolutely are! The question is their role in salvation.”

A cool evening breeze drifted through the window, causing the lamp flames to dance. Luke pulled out his writing materials, knowing this conversation needed to be preserved for future generations.

“Tell me something,” Paul continued, sitting back down across from Luke. “In your research for your gospel, what did you learn about Jesus’ teaching on this matter?”

Luke’s stylus paused above the parchment. “He consistently emphasized both faith and action. I recorded His words: ‘Why do you call me “Lord, Lord,” and do not do what I say?’” The physician’s clinical precision was evident in his exact quotation.

“Yes!” Paul leaned forward eagerly, his chains scraping against the table. “And consider the woman who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears. You recorded that story, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Luke’s eyes took on a distant look as he recalled the account. “Her many sins were forgiven, as shown by her great love.”

“That’s the key!” Paul’s voice rose with excitement, causing the guard to peek in again. Lowering his voice, he continued, “Her actions weren’t to earn forgiveness – they were a response to having been forgiven. This is exactly what I teach about faith and works!”

The night deepened around them as they spoke, the oil lamps casting dancing shadows on the walls. Outside, the eternal city continued its evening routines, unaware of the profound discussion taking place in this simple room.

Luke’s stylus moved rapidly across the parchment, recording the conversation. “But what about your teaching regarding the Gentiles and the law? Some say this conflicts with James’s emphasis on works.”

Paul stood again, his chains creating a now-familiar melody. “Think back to our time in Jerusalem, when this very issue nearly split the church. What did you observe?”

Luke set down his stylus, his physician’s hands folded thoughtfully. “I saw you navigate a delicate balance. You strongly opposed requiring Gentiles to be circumcised, yet later had Timothy circumcised for the sake of ministry.”

“Exactly!” Paul’s eyes shone with the intensity that had characterized his ministry across the empire. “Because once we understand that salvation comes through faith in Christ alone, we’re free to serve others in love – even if that means observing certain practices for the sake of ministry.”

A distant dog’s bark echoed through the Roman night. Luke picked up his stylus again, his medical training evident in his methodical documentation. “So when James speaks of works, he’s not talking about earning salvation?”

“Not at all!” Paul’s voice carried the authority of his rabbinical training. “James is addressing those who claim to have faith but show no evidence of it in their lives. Remember what I wrote to the Ephesians?”

Luke nodded, quoting from memory: “‘For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.’”

Paul’s face lit up with approval. “You see? We’re saved by faith alone, but saving faith is never alone. It always produces good works.”

The night grew deeper, but neither man noticed the passing time. The guard changed shifts outside, and the new sentry peered in curiously at the animated discussion continuing within.

“Let me share something with you, Luke,” Paul said, his voice taking on a more intimate tone. “When I was in Arabia, after my encounter with the risen Christ, I spent years wrestling with these very questions. I had been the perfect Pharisee, you know – circumcised on the eighth day, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews.”

Luke leaned forward, his stylus poised. He had heard pieces of Paul’s story before, but never quite like this.

“I thought I could earn God’s favor through perfect law-keeping,” Paul continued, his voice distant with memory. “When Christ revealed Himself to me, everything changed. I realized that all my righteous works were like filthy rags compared to the righteousness that comes through faith in Christ.”

A cool breeze rustled the scrolls on the table. Luke pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, but his attention remained fixed on Paul’s words.

“But here’s what’s crucial,” Paul leaned forward, his chains clinking softly. “This understanding didn’t make me care less about holy living – it transformed my entire motivation! Instead of serving God out of fear or trying to earn His favor, I began serving out of love and gratitude.”

Luke’s stylus moved rapidly across the parchment, capturing every word. “This reminds me of something I noticed while compiling my gospel. Jesus often told people their faith had saved them, but this faith was always expressed through actions – coming to Him, touching His garment, crying out for mercy.”

“Yes!” Paul’s enthusiasm caused his chains to rattle against the table. “This is exactly why there’s no real conflict between what I teach and what James writes. We’re looking at the same truth from different angles.”

The oil in the lamps had burned low, casting deeper shadows across the room. Neither man noticed the passage of time, absorbed in their discussion.

“Think of it this way,” Paul continued, using his teacher’s gift to illustrate the point. “When you treat a patient, you first diagnose the illness, then prescribe the cure, correct?”

Luke nodded, his medical mind engaging with the analogy.

“Well, in my letters, I’m often diagnosing the illness of self-righteousness – the fatal condition of thinking we can earn salvation through law-keeping. James, on the other hand, is addressing a different illness – the false belief that you can have genuine faith without it affecting your life.”

Luke’s stylus paused above the parchment. “So you’re both treating different spiritual ailments?”

“Exactly!” Paul smiled at his friend’s quick understanding. “Just as you wouldn’t treat a fever the same way you treat a broken bone, we emphasize different aspects of truth depending on the spiritual condition we’re addressing.”

The night had grown quiet outside, with only the occasional footsteps of the patrol breaking the silence. The guard stifled a yawn, but inside the room, the two men remained alert, energized by their discussion.

“Paul,” Luke said thoughtfully, “I’ve been working on my account of the early church – the one you’ve been helping me with. How should I present these truths so future generations will understand?”

Paul was silent for a moment, his scholarly mind considering the question. The lamp flames flickered, causing his shadow to dance on the wall behind him.

“Show them the whole picture,” he finally said. “Show them how the early church wrestled with these questions. Document both my strong stance against works-righteousness and my constant emphasis on holy living. Show them how faith and works are not competitors, but rather faith is the root and works are the fruit.”

Luke wrote furiously, recording every word. “Like the Council of Jerusalem?”

“Yes!” Paul’s eyes lit up. “Show how we maintained the truth of salvation by faith alone while also giving practical guidance for godly living. Show how we opposed mandatory circumcision for Gentiles while still respecting Jewish customs when it served the gospel.”

The first hints of dawn were beginning to lighten the eastern sky. Luke looked up from his writing, suddenly aware of how much time had passed. “I should let you rest,” he said, beginning to gather his materials.

Paul reached out as far as his chains would allow, placing a hand on Luke’s arm. “One more thing, my friend. Make sure they understand this: We’re not saved by faith plus works, but by a faith that works.”

Luke paused in his gathering of scrolls, capturing this final thought on his parchment. “I’ll make sure this is clear in my account.”

Paul stood, his chains rattling one final time. “The churches need this understanding, Luke. They need to know that when I oppose works of the law, I’m fighting against self-righteousness, not against holy living. They need to understand that true faith always produces good works, not as a means of earning salvation, but as its natural result.”

The morning light was now streaming through the window, painting the room in soft golden hues. Luke gathered the last of his materials, their weight somehow lighter now that they would carry such important truths.

“May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit,” Paul blessed his friend as Luke prepared to leave.

“And with yours, Paul,” Luke responded, turning to go. At the doorway, he paused and looked back. “Thank you. Future generations will need these truths.”

Paul nodded, already turning back to his scrolls despite his fatigue. The guard outside straightened as Luke emerged, blinking in the morning sun.