The Law Within (Part 2)

The morning after their profound discussion about the law written on hearts, Luke found Paul already awake and deep in prayer on the rooftop of his lodgings in Caesarea. The first light of dawn was breaking over the Mediterranean, painting the sky in delicate shades of pink and gold. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of the sea mixed with the aroma of fresh bread from nearby bakeries.

Luke waited quietly, not wanting to disturb his friend’s communion with God. Finally, Paul opened his eyes and smiled warmly at his companion. “You’re up early, my friend. Something on your mind?”

Luke settled beside Paul on the simple reed mat. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation last night – about the law written on hearts. It raised a question that has long troubled me.”

“What troubles you?” Paul asked, noting the serious expression on Luke’s face.

Luke chose his words carefully. “We’ve traveled extensively, Paul. We’ve encountered people in remote places who had never heard of the God of Israel, let alone the gospel of Christ. And in my research for my own writings, I’ve learned of even more distant lands beyond the empire’s reach.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “What of those who lived and died without ever hearing the gospel message? What of those who live now in places our feet will never reach?”

Paul’s expression grew contemplative. He stood and walked to the rooftop’s edge, gazing out over the awakening city. “This question touches the very heart of God’s justice and mercy, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Luke agreed. “Last night, you spoke of the law written on hearts. Could this have something to do with how God deals with those who never hear the gospel proclaimed?”

Paul turned back to Luke, his face animated with the intensity that always appeared when discussing matters of deep spiritual significance. “Let me answer with a question of my own. In your travels as a physician, have you ever encountered people who seemed to be genuinely seeking truth, even though they knew nothing of our gospel?”

Luke’s mind traveled back through his many encounters. “Yes, I have. I remember a woman in Lystra, before you arrived there. She was a widow who showed remarkable kindness to the sick and poor. Though she worshipped the local gods, she often spoke of her sense that there must be one supreme deity who cared about human suffering. She died before we brought the gospel there.”

Paul nodded thoughtfully. “And what did you observe about such people?”

“They seemed to be responding to something… an inner pull toward truth and goodness, even though they had no access to the Scriptures or the gospel message.”

“Exactly!” Paul exclaimed. “Remember what I wrote about the Gentiles showing the work of the law written on their hearts? This isn’t just about moral awareness – it’s about response to divine initiative.”

Luke leaned forward, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Paul began to pace, as he often did when working through complex theological ideas. “Think about Abraham, Luke. What did the Scriptures say about him? ‘Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness.’ But what did Abraham actually know about the Messiah? About the full plan of salvation? Very little, by our standards.”

“So you’re saying that what matters is the response to whatever light God gives?” Luke asked.

“Yes, but let me be precise about this,” Paul replied, sitting back down beside Luke. “We know that salvation comes through Christ alone – there is no other name under heaven by which we must be saved. But God’s work in human hearts is not limited by our ability to reach them with the proclaimed message.”

Luke poured water from a clay pitcher into two cups, offering one to Paul. “Please explain further.”

Paul took a thoughtful sip before continuing. “Consider what I wrote to the Athenians – that God determined the times and places where all people would live ‘so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him.’ God’s prevenient work in human hearts is universal, though it takes different forms.”

“Prevenient work?” Luke questioned.

“His work that goes before – that precedes our seeking,” Paul explained. “No one seeks God entirely on their own initiative. When we see people in remote places with a hunger for truth, that hunger itself is evidence of God’s work in their hearts.”

The sun had risen higher now, and the sounds of the city’s daily activities were growing louder. A group of fishermen passed below, their voices carrying up to the rooftop as they headed to the harbor.

“But how exactly does this work?” Luke pressed. “How can someone who has never heard of Christ be saved through Him?”

Paul was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Think about this: When we proclaim the gospel, what are we really doing? We’re making explicit what God has been hinting at in every human heart. The gospel puts into words the story that God has been writing in fragments on every heart.”

“The fragments being…?” Luke prompted.

“The sense of moral law we discussed last night. The universal human awareness of falling short of our own standards. The seemingly universal human practice of sacrifice, suggesting an innate understanding that something is needed to bridge the gap between humanity and the divine. The longing for redemption that appears in every culture we’ve encountered.” Paul’s voice grew passionate as he listed these elements.

Luke considered this. “So you’re suggesting that people might respond in faith to these fragments of truth, even without knowing the full story?”

“Yes, but let me be clear – it’s not the fragments that save them. It’s Christ’s work, applied to them by God’s grace in ways we may not fully understand. Remember what I wrote about those who will be judged according to their response to the law written on their hearts? God’s judgment is always perfectly just and perfectly merciful.”

“But surely it’s better to hear the gospel explicitly?” Luke asked.

“Of course!” Paul exclaimed. “That’s why we labor as we do, why we face persecution and hardship to bring the message to as many as possible. The explicit gospel message brings clarity, assurance, and the full revelation of God’s love in Christ. It’s always better to move from shadows to full light. But we must not limit God’s ability to work in hearts even where our voices cannot reach.”

Luke stood and walked to the rooftop’s edge, watching the busy street below. “I’m thinking of all the people I knew before encountering the gospel – good people, seeking people. Some died before hearing the message.”

Paul joined him at the parapet. “And that’s why this truth is so important. God’s justice means He holds people accountable according to the light they’ve received. His mercy means He can work through even the faintest glimmer of that light when it meets with faith.”

“Faith in what, though, if they don’t know about Christ?”

“Faith in whatever truth God has revealed to them,” Paul replied. “Remember Abraham again – he didn’t have the law, didn’t have the prophets, didn’t have the gospel as we know it. He simply believed God according to the revelation he had received. God counted that as righteousness.”

Luke’s medical mind sought precision. “So you’re saying there are degrees of revelation, but what matters is the response of faith to whatever revelation is given?”

“Yes, and this faith – wherever it appears – is always God’s gift, always grounded in Christ’s work, even if the person doesn’t know Christ’s name. The Spirit’s work isn’t limited by our geographical reach.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as they watched the city coming to life below. The morning sun had fully risen now, its light reflecting off the distant waters of the Mediterranean.

“Tell me more about this widow you mentioned,” Paul said finally. “The one from Lystra who died before hearing the gospel.”

Luke’s expression softened at the memory. “She was remarkable. Despite following the local gods, she often expressed doubt about them. She would say things like, ‘These gods of ours are too much like us – selfish, angry, capricious. Surely if there is a true God, He must be better than we are.’ She cared for the sick without asking for payment, shared her food with the hungry…”

“And what do you think drove her to live that way?” Paul asked.

“She once told me that she felt something – someone – pulling her toward goodness, toward truth. She said she didn’t understand it, but she knew she had to respond.” Luke paused, remembering. “She said she hoped that if there was a true God, He would understand that she was doing her best to find Him with the light she had.”

Paul nodded slowly. “And what does that remind you of from my letter to the Romans?”

“‘Their conflicting thoughts accusing or even excusing them,’” Luke quoted. “She was responding to that internal witness.”

“Exactly. And remember what else I wrote – about those who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor and immortality?”

Luke’s eyes widened with understanding. “You’re saying she was one of those people? Seeking God by responding to the light she had?”

“I’m saying it’s possible,” Paul replied carefully. “God alone knows the heart. But we know this – God is both perfectly just and perfectly merciful. He takes into account not just what people did with what they knew, but what they would have done had they known more.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it – God exists outside of time. When He judges, He knows not only what people did with the light they had, but also how they would have responded to the gospel had they heard it. His judgment takes everything into account.”

Luke sat back down on the reed mat, processing this idea. “This is profound, Paul. It means no one is lost simply because they were born in the wrong place or time.”

“Exactly. The gospel we preach is the full revelation of what God has been working toward all along. When we proclaim Christ, we’re not bringing God to places He hasn’t been – we’re making explicit what He has already been doing in human hearts.”

“But then why preach at all?” Luke asked. “If God can work in hearts without our message…”

Paul’s response was immediate and passionate. “Because explicit knowledge of Christ brings fullness of life, assurance of salvation, and transformation through clear understanding of God’s love! We preach because people need to know the source of the hunger they feel, the name of the One they’re seeking, the full story that makes sense of the fragments written on their hearts.”

He continued, his voice intense with conviction. “Think of it like your work as a physician, Luke. Sometimes people recover from illnesses without understanding what healed them. But isn’t it better when they understand their treatment, can participate in their healing, can share their knowledge with others?”

Luke nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, and they’re also less likely to fall ill again when they understand what made them well.”

“Precisely! The gospel brings understanding, assurance, and transformation. It turns hints into clarity, shadows into light, orphans into known children of God.” Paul’s voice softened. “But we must never limit God’s ability to work beyond our reach.”

The morning had advanced, and the streets below were now filled with the busy activity of the city. The sounds of commerce, conversation, and daily life created a backdrop to their theological discussion.

“There’s something beautiful about this understanding,” Luke said finally. “It means God’s work is broader than our ability to proclaim it.”

“Yes, but remember – this should increase, not decrease, our urgency to proclaim the gospel,” Paul insisted. “Every person who responds to the law written on their heart is a person prepared by God to receive the full revelation of Christ!”

Luke smiled at his friend’s characteristic passion for evangelism. “Of course. But it also means we can trust God’s justice and mercy even for those we cannot reach.”

“Exactly. And this understanding should shape how we view the people we encounter who haven’t heard the gospel,” Paul added. “Instead of seeing them as completely separated from God’s work, we should look for signs of how He’s already been working in their hearts.”

“Like my widow in Lystra,” Luke mused. “Her hunger for truth, her kindness to others, her sense that there must be something more than the gods she knew – these were all signs of God’s prior work in her heart.”

“Yes, and think about what this means for how we share the gospel,” Paul said, growing animated again. “We’re not bringing God to people – we’re helping them recognize and name the God who has already been drawing them, whose law has already been written on their hearts!”

Luke picked up his writing materials, which he always carried with him. “This needs to be recorded, Paul. It’s crucial for understanding God’s universal work of salvation.”

Paul nodded in agreement. “Yes, but write carefully, my friend. This is a deep mystery – how God works in hearts beyond our reach. We must neither limit His work nor minimize the importance of proclaiming the gospel clearly whenever we can.”

“How would you summarize it?” Luke asked, reed pen poised over parchment.

Paul thought for a moment, then spoke slowly, choosing each word with care: “God’s work in human hearts goes before and beyond our proclamation. The law written on hearts, the universal hunger for truth, the capacity for faith – these are all His gifts, preparing people to recognize Him. Some respond to these gifts with faith, even without knowing the full story. God judges justly, taking into account both what people did with what they knew and what they would have done had they known more.”

He paused, then continued: “But the gospel proclamation remains crucial – it brings clarity, assurance, transformation, and the joy of knowing God fully revealed in Christ. We proclaim so that shadows might become light, hints might become clarity, and seeking might end in finding.”

Luke wrote carefully, then looked up. “This understanding could change how our communities view those who died before hearing the gospel, or those in distant lands we cannot reach.”

“Yes,” Paul agreed. “It should make us both more urgent in proclamation and more confident in God’s justice and mercy. No one is lost simply because of when or where they were born. God’s work is wider than our reach, deeper than our understanding, yet perfectly just and perfectly merciful.”

The sun was now high in the sky, and the day’s heat was beginning to build. Below, the city of Caesarea continued its busy life – Jews, Greeks, Romans, and others from across the empire going about their daily tasks. Each of them, Paul and Luke knew, carried within them that law written on hearts, that capacity for responding to divine initiative, that potential for faith.

“One more thing,” Paul said as they prepared to leave the rooftop. “This truth should make us more observant, more appreciative of how God works in unexpected ways and places. When we encounter people who haven’t heard the gospel, we should look for signs of how God has already been working in their hearts.”

Luke nodded, gathering his writing materials. “It’s like you wrote to the Athenians – God arranged human history so that people would seek Him and perhaps reach out and find Him, though He is not far from any of us.”

“Exactly,” Paul smiled. “And now we get to participate in that divine work, making explicit what God has written in every human heart, bringing to light what He has been doing in shadows. It’s a privilege beyond measure.”

As they descended from the rooftop, both men carried with them a deeper appreciation for the mystery and magnitude of God’s saving work – a work that began in every human heart long before the gospel message reached their ears, yet found its full expression in the clear proclamation of Christ’s death and resurrection.

The streets of Caesarea bustled with activity – merchants and sailors, slaves and freedmen, people from every corner of the empire. Paul and Luke looked at them with new eyes, wondering how God was already at work in their hearts, preparing them for the day when they would hear the full gospel message. They understood better now that their task was not to bring God to these people, but to help them recognize and name the God who had already been drawing them, whose law was already written on their hearts.

The morning’s discussion had deepened their understanding of salvation’s mystery – how God’s grace could work even where the gospel had not yet been proclaimed, while also highlighting the crucial importance of their mission to proclaim Christ clearly to all who would listen. It was a paradox that would shape their ministry and influence generations of believers to come – the tension between God’s universal work in human hearts and the urgent necessity of gospel proclamation.