Romans Chapter 4 (part 5)

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Quick note for new subscribers: We're in the middle of Romans right now. If you just joined us, you might feel like you're walking into the middle of a movie. You are. Here's what I recommend:

Keep reading below if you want to start where we are (Romans 4:23-25)
Or go back to the beginning - [Here's the intro to Romans], and [here's the full archive] so you can start from Chapter 1.

Either way works. I just don't want you to feel lost.

Before diving into my notes, I encourage you to read Romans 4:23-25 first (or the whole chapter if you have time).

I include all the Scripture below, but there’s something about sitting with the whole chapter first — giving yourself room to be curious.

What catches you off guard?
What doesn't make sense?
Where is that?
Who's that?
Why?

Those questions will make the notes hit deeper.

"When disciples followed a rabbi, they followed him closely so they would never be out of his sight, never be someplace where they couldn’t hear him speak. They followed him so closely that his sandals often kicked up dust."

May you be covered in His dust.

To the saints, grace and peace.

A quick update on my 25-year-old daughter Cecilia.

Just over a month ago she called me from the emergency room. "Dad, I've had a stroke. They're transferring me to Duke University Hospital. They have a team of neurologists there.”

Within a few hours I was on a plane. I was at her bedside by morning.

The day after I arrived, late that afternoon, I was standing at the foot of her bed when I saw her left eye begin to close. Then the left side of her mouth dropped.

"How are you feeling?"

"My fingers are tingly." She paused, taking inventory. "My face is tingly too."

Tears started to well up in her eyes.

"Let's get the nurse."

The nurse performed the same neurological assessment she'd done a dozen times before.

What's your name?
Where are you?
What year is it?
Can you lift your hand?
Stick out your tongue.

The questions were so familiar… and then they weren't.

Within seconds the room was full, half a dozen people moving quickly, trying to act calm. But they weren't calm.

As they wheeled her out she looked at me. "Daddy. Will you pray for me?"

I took her hand. "Father, we love you. We trust you. Guide the doctors' hands. Open their eyes to see what they need to see. Give Cecilia your peace."

Then they pushed her through two doors and it fell completely silent. Just me, talking to God, begging Him. “I know we're all going to die, Lord. Just not today.”

A few days later they finally knew what was happening. The doctors weren't talking about permanent damage anymore. They weren't talking about surgery. They were talking about recovery.

I felt like I could breathe again.

Then they gave it a name. Reversible Cerebral Vasoconstriction Syndrome.

Today she's home. She's back at work. She walked out without a single medication.

I've thought about that prayer a lot over the last few weeks. Because in that moment, it was all I had.

I couldn't stop the stroke.
I couldn't perform the angiogram.
I couldn't see what was happening inside her brain.
I couldn't fix her.
I couldn't save her.

All I could do was stand on the other side of those doors and trust the people who could.

As I worked through Romans 4 this week, I kept coming back to that hallway because that's exactly where Abraham lived for twenty five years. God had made him a promise he had no ability to fulfill. His body was as good as dead. Sarah's womb had never produced life. Every year that passed made the promise seem less possible. Abraham couldn't make it happen. He could only believe the One who said it would.

“but he grew strong in faith.” Romans 4:20

"Lord, you are good. I trust you with the life of my daughter. I surrender. She's yours first."

Let's finish Romans 4.

Paul can't seem to leave Genesis 15:6 alone.

He spends an entire chapter of Romans unpacking a single verse. Sixteen chapters in Romans. One full chapter devoted to one sentence from Abraham's life.

"Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness." Genesis 15:6

He's quoted it. Argued from it. Built the entire case on it. Justified by faith, not works. Before circumcision. Before the law. Before any religious marker of any kind.

And now, at the end of the chapter, he stops.

"But the words 'it was counted to him' were not written for his sake alone, but for ours also." Romans 4:23-24

God wasn't only speaking to Abraham when those words were written.

He knew one day you'd read them too.

One thing becomes obvious when you spend time in Romans.

Paul isn't trying to convince us that faith saves. He's trying to convince us that it has always been faith. That's why he keeps reaching backward.

Not to the cross. Not to Pentecost. Not even to Sinai. He goes all the way back to Abraham.

Why?

Because if Abraham was justified by faith, then justification by faith isn't a New Testament doctrine. It's not Paul's doctrine. It's God's doctrine.

Abraham? Faith.
David? Faith.
Habakkuk? Faith.

The Law never saved anyone. Paul's argument isn't "here's a new way to be saved." It's "this is how God has always saved people." The Law and the Prophets have been saying it the whole time.

Paul is just refusing to let anyone walk past it anymore.

If Satan could erase one doctrine from the Bible, I think this would be near the top of the list.

“Justification by faith alone.”

Paul’s spent an entire chapter proving it isn't new. It's not a New Testament idea. It's definitely not Paul's idea. It's the same way God saved Abraham four thousand years ago.

Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness.

That's the gospel. It always has been.

And because it’s the gospel, Satan’s never stopped attacking it. If he can confuse you about how a person is made right with God, he can leave you exhausted, fearful, proud, or hopeless.

The battlefield hasn't changed much in four thousand years.

Neither have the lies.

Here are three of Satan's favorite attacks against justification by faith alone.

The first lie is simple, “Not enough.”

Jesus isn't enough. His death isn't enough. Faith isn't enough. You need to add SOMETHING. Maybe not much. Just a little obedience. A little effort. A little religious performance. A little goodness. Your best effort.

And here's what makes it so dangerous. It sounds humble right? It sounds spiritual. It even sounds reasonable. Of course I should contribute something. Of course I should bring God something.

But Paul’s spent four chapters burning that house down.

Abraham brought nothing.
David brought nothing.
You bring nothing.
I bring nothing.

The only thing we contribute to our salvation is the sin that made it necessary.

God justifies the ungodly. Not the helpful, or the improved, or the religious.

The ungodly.

The moment we begin adding our works to Christ's finished work, grace stops being grace.

"But if it is by grace, it is no longer on the basis of works; otherwise grace would no longer be grace." Romans 11:6

The second lie is the opposite of the first.

If the first lie says grace isn't enough, the second lie says grace is too much.

If God forgives everything, why not sin freely? If justification is a gift and nothing I do can earn it or lose it, what's to stop me from living however I want?

Paul saw this coming. He addresses it directly in Chapter 6.

"What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it?" Romans 6:1-2

We'll get there. But for now, just notice that Paul doesn't ignore the objection. He takes it seriously enough to spend an entire chapter on it.

Grace is not a license. It never was.

The third lie is the most subtle. And the most dangerous. “You're saved… for now.”

Your works will play a part in whether God ultimately accepts you. You may be saved now, but the verdict isn't final until the end. Until then, keep working. Keep earning. Keep proving yourself.

It sounds reverent.

It’s not.

Jesus told a story about two men who walked into the Temple to pray. One was a Pharisee. The other was a tax collector. He had no religious resume. Nothing to stand on.

The Pharisee stood and prayed like a man reviewing his credentials before God. He fasted twice a week. He tithed everything. He wasn’t like other men, certainly not like that tax collector standing in the back.

The tax collector wouldn't even lift his eyes toward heaven. He beat his chest and said seven words.

"God, be merciful to me, a sinner." Luke 18:10-14

The tax collector didn't ask God to notice his good works. He didn't offer excuses or make promises. He simply stood there and cried out, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner."

The word he chose was hilastheti, from the same word family Paul uses in Romans 3:25 when he calls Jesus our propitiation. A Jewish listener would have understood without question.

Sin doesn't disappear because God is kind.
A sacrifice has to be made.

He wasn't saying, "God, be nice to me." He was saying something deeper. God, I have nothing. I am guilty. I need atonement I cannot provide myself. Deal with my sin through Your provision.

He didn't know it would be a cross. He didn't know the name Jesus. He was standing in a Temple where sacrifices were being offered daily, casting himself entirely on whatever God's provision for sinners was.

Take a few steps back and look at what’s happening in the parable.

Jesus is standing in Jerusalem telling this story, using a word that means propitiation, knowing that He’s the propitiation. He’s the answer to the prayer He’s describing. The sacrifice the tax collector is crying out for is standing right there telling the story.

"This man went down to his house justified." Luke 18:14

"Saved for now"

Is
a
lie.

A guilty man with nothing to offer cried out for mercy and Jesus said he went home justified.

That's good enough for me.

Last verse of the chapter.

Imagine standing before God with every sin you've ever committed laid out in front of you.

Every lie.
Every selfish moment.
Every hidden thing.

Now imagine none of it belongs to you anymore.

Paul has used one concept eleven times in this chapter alone. One Greek word that gets translated different ways depending on your Bible.

Counted.
Credited.
Reckoned.

The same word, eleven times.
The Greek word is logizomai.

Theologians gave it a name.

Imputation.

To impute something means to credit it to someone's account.

Here's what happened at the cross.

Your sin was credited to Christ. Every lie, every failure, every moment you lived as though God didn't matter.

Placed on Him.

And His righteousness was credited to you. Not because you earned it. Because God transferred it.

"For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." 2 Corinthians 5:21

We don't stand before God as people who are trying hard. We stand before God clothed in the righteousness of His Son. Not our record. His.

That's imputation.

And on your worst day, on your deathbed, when you have nothing left to offer and every failure is staring you in the face, this is the thing worth remembering.

Christ is your righteousness.

Not your church attendance. Not your prayers or your Bible reading or anything else you've done.

Christ.

At the Last Supper, hours before His arrest, Jesus looked at Peter and said,

"Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat." Luke 22:31

Satan had asked permission to destroy Peter. And Jesus had allowed it.

Peter was offended. He pushed back. "Lord, I am ready to go with you both to prison and to death." Luke 22:33

Jesus said, "But I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers." Luke 22:32

Jesus prayed for Peter before Peter even knew he needed it.

Right now, at this moment, Jesus is interceding for you. He's praying for you. The same way He prayed for Peter. Before you even know you need it.

"He is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them." Hebrews 7:25

Peter made it through that night, through the denial, through the shame, through the restoration on the beach, not because Peter held on to Jesus but because Jesus held on to Peter.

That's how Peter made it.

That's how you'll make it.

Trust the One who's holding on to you.

"Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ." Romans 10:17

When I first came to Christ I didn't understand everything.

There were areas of my life I hadn't surrendered because I didn't even know they needed surrendering. Over time God put His finger on one thing, then another, then another. Not to justify me. But because I already belonged to Him.

He knew what was happening inside me even when I couldn't see it.

He knows what's happening inside you.

I love you,

George

PS: If a friend shared this Bible study with you and you’d like to receive it straight to your inbox, just click HERE to subscribe—it’s free and always will be!

George Sisneros is a full-time missionary in Guatemala and the founder of Ordinary Missionaries and the El Rosario Christian Academy for Boys.

He’s been married to his wife, Vonda, for 27 years. He’s a father to nine children, five adopted.

In 2024, George and his wife expanded to Cuba, joining forces with nine pastors committed to transforming lives through the gospel.

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