Christ alone

When we say ‘Christ alone’, we mean two things: Christ’s work on the cross is both sufficient and unique.

To a church that was obsessed with worldly power, Paul insisted in 1 Corinthians 1 that he was not interested in what seemed wise or impressive. He was simply interested in the message of the cross, which is “folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God” (1:18). Despite its apparent foolishness, in the weakness of the cross, we see Christ’s power to reconcile people to God. Christ’s work on the cross is sufficient to accomplish all of that.

However, ‘Christ alone’ also asserts that Christ’s work on the cross is unique. The cross alone is powerful to save. As Jesus prays to his Father in the Garden of Gethsemane, he asks, “Remove this cup from me”—that is, the cup of his Father’s wrath and anger against sin (Mark 14:36; see Isaiah 51:17 for the background to the ‘cup’). Jesus is asking his Father “If it’s at all possible, I don’t want to face your anger—anger I don’t deserve—anger that ought to be poured out instead upon an unrighteous world”. On the next day, Jesus is nailed to a Roman cross, and there he cries out to his Father again, but this time he cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34). In that horrific moment, the Father turns away from his beloved Son because, as he looks at Jesus, he sees my rebellion. Jesus’ prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane is answered, but it is answered with silence. It had to be silence because there was no other way for us to be reconciled to God.

If there was no other way for Jesus, then there can be no other way for us. If Jesus had to be forsaken, then surely we can not repair our relationship with God simply by doing good. If Jesus had to face God’s wrath, then surely a few religious activities are not going to turn aside God’s anger. If that had to happen, my designer spirituality simply isn’t going to cut it. There is no other way except through Christ alone.

Now, when the phrase ‘Christ alone’ was first used in the 16th century, it was on the lips of Christian people who denied that they needed the Roman Catholic Church to know God or to be reconciled to him. Over the preceding centuries, the Roman Church had effectively placed itself between believers and God. They taught that Jesus’ death had produced ‘merit’, and that he had entrusted the keys to that treasure chest of merit to the Church. The role of the Church was then to distribute that merit to the faithful. That is still the official teaching of the Roman Church. The Catechism teaches that the Roman Church has “the power of binding and loosing granted her by Christ Jesus” and so it “intervenes in favour of individual Christians and opens for them the treasury of the merits of Christ and the saints to obtain from the Father of mercies the remission of the temporal punishments due for their sins” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1993, p. 1478).

Our response to that needs to be the same as the Reformers. The Church is not necessary for us to know God or to be reconciled to him; the role of a Church is simply to teach the truth about Christ, because it is through Christ alone that we can be saved. You don’t need the Church—you don’t need other mediators, priests or advocates—you just need Jesus.

However, in the 21st century we need to add something else to this. ‘Christ alone’ also means that Christians need to deny that other religions and spiritualities can help us to know God or be reconciled to him. ‘Christ alone’ objects to the idea that the variety of religions are just different ways to the same God. ‘Christ alone’ insists that we call to repentance and faith a person who seeks to create their own designer spirituality. Christ refuses to be part of a choose-your-own-adventure, self-serving spiritual quest. Christ is everything to you or he is nothing.

Now, according to some, such exclusive beliefs like this are supposed to make people arrogant and dangerous. Of course, that will depend entirely on what it is that a person believes. If we believe exclusively that we’re not saved by our own wisdom or righteousness, then this will produce humility, not arrogance. It gives Christians no cause to be proud or self-righteous, because our salvation is due to nothing we have done. And surely there’s no more powerful reason for accepting those who differ from us than the gospel which, at its very heart, speaks of a man who dies for his enemies—a Saviour who loves those who don’t love him. Nothing about that exclusive belief should ever make Christians arrogant or dangerous. However, what it will produce are people who humbly, boldly and urgently seek to tell people about the Lord Jesus Christ—the one who alone has the power to reconcile people to the true and living God.