So far, we’ve shown that Jesus Christ is a living Savior who is fully worthy of our trust. He is not just a good teacher or a religious leader from the past. He is alive now. And we, as sinners, have a deep spiritual need—our guilt before God and the curse of His law because of our sin. These truths are foundational. But they aren’t the whole story.

For someone to truly believe, there has to be a connection between the Savior and the sinner. Christ may be powerful and able to save, but what does that mean for us today? He lived long ago. So how does He actually reach us? How does He meet our needs now?

The New Testament gives a clear answer: Christ touches our lives through the Cross. We deserved eternal death because of our sin. But Jesus loved us enough to take our place and bear the punishment we deserved. He died for us at Calvary, paying our penalty. That’s how He reaches into our lives—not through vague feelings or mystical experiences, but through His sacrificial death on the Cross.

Faith means accepting this gift. When we truly believe, we aren’t relying on any goodness in ourselves. Instead, we are covered by Christ’s perfect righteousness. God no longer sees our sin; He sees the purity of Jesus applied to us. This is what is meant when we say a person is accepted by God “as righteous in His sight, only for the righteousness of Christ imputed to us, and received by faith alone.”

Now, this view of the Cross might seem strange or offensive to many people. It’s not complicated—it’s actually very simple, simple enough for a child to understand. But to many, it sounds foolish because it goes against human pride. People want to earn their way, or find a way that makes them feel more in control. Yet any attempts to make the gospel easier to accept, or more in line with human thinking, only confuse the truth.

To accept the message of the Cross, a person must first be awakened to the seriousness of their sin. That deep awareness of guilt—of being separated from God and in need of forgiveness—can only come through the Holy Spirit. Without the Spirit’s work in the heart, no argument or sermon will ever bring a person to saving faith.

That does not mean preaching is pointless. Even though no human words can create faith by themselves, God still uses the proclamation of the gospel as His chosen method to draw people to Christ. We should present the message clearly, humbly, and carefully, doing everything we can to explain the Cross and remove misunderstandings, while depending fully on God’s grace to open hearts.

In the next part, Machen will address some common objections to this message of substitution—where Jesus takes our place on the Cross—and will explain why this view is not just one “theory” among many, but the core of the true Christian gospel.

One of the common criticisms of the view we just explained—that Christ died in our place to satisfy God’s justice—is that people call it only a “theory” of the atonement. They say we can believe in the fact that Jesus died for us without needing to accept any specific theory about how His death works to save us. According to them, substitution is just one theory among many.

But that criticism misunderstands both the idea of a “theory” and the nature of the atonement. The word “theory” might sound like it refers to something man-made—just a human explanation. But what if God Himself revealed not just that Christ died, but also why He died and what it accomplished? If that’s the case, then the explanation is not a human theory—it is a divine truth revealed in Scripture, and we must accept it along with the event itself.

Now think about this: the moment someone says the word “atonement,” they are already moving beyond a bare historical event. Saying “atonement” implies an explanation. The death of Jesus on a cross is the event. But calling that death an “atonement” means you believe that His death had a purpose—to remove guilt, to bring peace with God.

In other words, when people say they accept the fact of Christ’s death but reject any theory about it, they are contradicting themselves. The idea of an “atonement” is itself an explanation. You can’t truly believe in the atonement without holding some understanding of what that means. You’ve already committed to a “theory,” whether you realize it or not. So the important question isn’t whether we’ll have a theory of the Cross. The question is: Do we have the right one?

Someone might ask, “Couldn’t God have saved us through Christ’s death without telling us exactly how it worked?” Sure, He could have. He’s God. He could have kept the meaning hidden and simply told us to trust that something wonderful happened at the Cross. But that’s not what He chose to do.

God did not leave us in the dark. He didn’t treat us like objects without minds or hearts. Instead, by His grace, He revealed what the Cross means: that Christ took our place, bore our punishment, and satisfied divine justice on our behalf. That is why we can approach Him not with fear, but with joy and confidence.

Other ways of thinking about the Cross—like seeing it as an example of love or a symbol of sacrifice—are not wrong in themselves. But if you ignore the truth that Jesus died as a substitute for sinners, all the other ideas about the Cross fall apart. Without this core truth, the Cross loses its power to save. It may move people emotionally, but it won’t give them peace with God.

Christ’s death shows us how much God hates sin. It also shows us how much He loves us. But unless we understand that Jesus paid our penalty, we are still stuck in our guilt. That’s why the Cross isn’t just a touching story or moral lesson—it’s the heart of salvation.

In the next part, we will look at another common objection: the idea that you can trust in Jesus as a Person without needing to believe anything about what He did on the Cross.

There’s another objection people often make to the message of the Cross. They say, “Can’t I just trust Jesus as a person, without worrying about all these doctrines or teachings—especially about what happened long ago?”

At first, that might sound spiritual and sincere. It seems to put the focus on Jesus Himself instead of on arguments about theology. But this way of thinking actually leads to a dangerous error.

Here’s why: The early Christians didn’t separate faith in Jesus from belief in what He did. They didn’t talk about Jesus just as a spiritual guide or teacher. They believed He did something real and powerful for them in history—through His death and resurrection.

For example, Paul wrote to the Corinthian church:

“For I delivered to you first of all that which also I received: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures” (1 Corinthians 15:3–4, UASV).

This was not just an inspiring story—it was a message about real events. The early Church believed these historical facts were essential to the Christian faith. They didn’t just say, “Jesus died.” They said, “He died for our sins.” That’s not just a fact—it’s an explanation. It’s a doctrine.

And this wasn’t just Paul’s idea. The New Testament consistently shows that Jesus came not just to say something, but to do something. His teachings were important, yes. But even more important was the mission He came to fulfill—to save sinners through His death and resurrection.

Even during His earthly ministry, Jesus spoke about what was coming. He pointed ahead to His death and resurrection. He described Himself as the one who came “to give his life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45, UASV). He told His disciples that He would be killed and raised again (Mark 8:31). So it’s false to say that the Cross and resurrection were added later or that they were only the apostles’ ideas. Jesus Himself pointed to them.

Today, people sometimes say, “I want a relationship with Jesus, not religion.” But true faith in Jesus must include faith in what the Bible says He did. Without the gospel—the good news about Christ’s redeeming work—we would have no way to truly know Him or be saved by Him.

Without the gospel, Jesus would remain just a historical figure. We could admire Him, but we could never be rescued by Him. It’s only through the message of what He accomplished on the Cross that He becomes our Savior.

True faith doesn’t stop at saying, “Jesus was a good man” or “Jesus was an example of love.” True faith says, with deep gratitude, “He loved me and gave Himself for me” (Galatians 2:20, UASV).

There’s a wonderful line in the Westminster Shorter Catechism that sums up true faith:

“Faith in Jesus Christ is a saving grace, whereby we receive and rest upon Him alone for salvation, as He is offered to us in the gospel.”

That final part—“as He is offered to us in the gospel”—is the heart of it all. It’s not enough that Jesus exists or even that He’s powerful. He must be offered to us, and He is offered to us specifically in the gospel message about what He did to save us.

God could have chosen another way to offer salvation. For example, He could have saved us by making us unconscious and waking us up completely renewed, with no sin. But that’s not the path He chose. He didn’t deal with us like lifeless objects. He dealt with us like real people—with minds, hearts, and wills. He spoke to us through the gospel, and He calls us to respond in faith.

When we first hear the gospel, some parts of it may feel hard to accept. It may not match the ideas we’ve made up about what salvation should look like. Just like Naaman the Syrian in the Old Testament, we may think our own ways are better. Naaman thought his own country’s rivers were better than the Jordan River where God told him to wash (2 Kings 5:12). He was insulted by how simple the instructions were. But when he obeyed, he was healed.

The same is true of us. We may want to save ourselves through good deeds, religious efforts, or self-improvement. But God tells us instead to come humbly, trust in Christ, and receive forgiveness through His sacrifice. That’s the only way to be made clean from sin.

When we do trust Him, our eyes are opened to the beauty and depth of the gospel. What once seemed strange or too simple becomes our greatest joy. Over time, we begin to see that God’s way truly is the best way. The more we grow in our faith, the more we realize there is no greater message than this: Christ died for our sins and rose again to give us new life.

So let’s not fall into the habit of separating Jesus from the gospel. Some people say, “I care about what Jesus is doing in my life now—not what happened long ago.” But when people go down that path, they soon lose their connection to the real Jesus. They create a version of “Christ” that has little to do with Jesus of Nazareth, the one who actually lived, died, and rose again. Eventually, their faith becomes mysticism—based on emotions or personal experiences, not on truth.

We need to guard against that. God gave us something better than feelings or dreams—He gave us the truth. The gospel is like an anchor for our souls (Hebrews 6:19). It keeps us grounded in reality. We are joined to Christ not by some vague spiritual connection, but by believing what He did for us on the Cross.

That’s not a barrier—it’s the bridge. It’s how He lovingly tied us to Himself, forever.

True saving faith means receiving Jesus Christ exactly as He is described in the gospel. It’s not enough to just admire Him or believe He existed. It’s not even enough to say, “Jesus saved others” or “Jesus saved the world.” Real faith is personal. It says, “He loved me and gave Himself for me” (Galatians 2:20).

When someone truly believes this—not just with their lips, but with their heart—then no matter how guilty they feel, no matter how far they’ve fallen, and no matter how little opportunity they have to fix their mistakes, they become a child of God, rescued forever.

At this point, many people ask an important question: If saving faith means trusting Jesus as He’s revealed in the gospel, then how much of the gospel does someone need to understand to be saved? What’s the minimum a person must believe to be a real Christian?

That question comes up often, but I’ve never answered it—and I don’t plan to now. In fact, I don’t believe any human being can fully answer it. Why? Because only God knows what’s really in a person’s heart. Only God knows whether someone’s trust in Christ is real, even if they can’t explain it perfectly in words.

Still, there’s a reason people ask that question. In church life, we need to know who’s truly part of the Church. The visible Church is a community where believers pray, worship, and serve together. To stay faithful, the Church must try to bring in those who genuinely trust in Christ and keep out those who clearly don’t. If we let in everyone without any care, the Church will eventually lose its distinctiveness. It’ll become just like the world.

So, it’s reasonable for the Church to require a confession of faith from those who want to join. But what kind of confession? I believe it should be more than just repeating words like “I accept Jesus as my personal Savior.” Too many people say that without any real understanding of what it means. Some are only expressing a general liking for Jesus’ character. Others may simply want to do charitable work.

When such people are allowed into the Church, it causes great harm. In fact, I believe that one person inside the Church who doesn’t really understand the gospel can do more damage than ten unbelievers outside of it.

We need to stop being satisfied with surface-level confessions. Instead of focusing on numbers—how many people join or how many activities we host—we need to get back to spiritual depth and truth. We should return to a solid foundation, like going from worthless paper money back to pure gold.

This means it should actually be harder to become a church member. People need to make a confession of faith that is credible. If someone clearly doesn’t know what they’re doing or saying, we should invite them to go through instruction first, learning what it really means to trust in Christ.

That instruction should be handled mainly by pastors, not just any church member. We need to bring back the practice of catechism classes, where people are carefully taught the basic truths of the faith before joining the Church. Some churches, like the Lutheran churches in America, have continued this practice and benefited greatly from it. We should follow their example.

Even with proper teaching and examination, our ability to judge someone’s heart is limited. We can only make rough guesses when deciding whether someone should join the Church. These judgments are imperfect and temporary. That’s why it’s crucial to make a clear distinction between the requirements for church membership and the requirements for being a minister.

This distinction has often been misunderstood in recent years. Some critics wrongly claim that conservatives in the Church are demanding that everyone—both church members and pastors—agree with every detail of doctrine, like the infallibility of Scripture or a specific confession of faith. But that’s not true. These requirements have mostly applied to ministers, not to every church member.

Think of it like a school. Many students can be accepted who are not ready to be teachers. In the same way, many people can become members of the Church even though they aren’t qualified to be in the ministry. They’re still learning. They should not be expected to teach yet. They are growing in faith but not yet ready to guide others.

Of course, the Church is more than a school. It’s the visible body of Christ on earth. Its members are not just seekers—they are people who have been born again by God’s Spirit and are joined to Christ. So, while the school analogy is helpful, it doesn’t fully explain everything. Still, it helps us see the difference between those who are learning and those who are teaching.

Some people may have a weak or struggling faith, filled with questions and doubts. They can and should be welcomed into the Church. It would be cruel to shut them out. They need the fellowship, the teaching, and the spiritual support that the Church provides. We should be patient with them, helping them grow stronger in the faith.

But when it comes to the ministry, the standard must be higher. It would be wrong to put someone in a teaching position if they don’t yet understand or believe the gospel. The people in the pews are depending on ministers to tell them the truth about salvation. To let someone preach who doesn’t believe the gospel is to put souls in danger.

We are not just worried about people who are struggling to believe. We’re more concerned about people who have clearly rejected the gospel and still want to be ministers. These are not people with doubts—they are people with a different message altogether. They aren’t just uncertain; they are certain of something false.

Even when it comes to basic church membership, there must be some limits. People should know what it means to join the Church. Their confession of faith should be realistic and trustworthy. But again, this doesn’t determine whether someone is truly saved. Only God can see the heart. We are just doing our best to judge whether someone should be part of the visible Church on earth.

That’s one reason why I don’t try to answer the question, “What’s the minimum a person has to believe to be saved?” It’s not our place to draw that line with full certainty. But there’s another reason too.

There’s another reason I don’t try to answer the question, “What is the bare minimum someone must believe to be saved?” It has to do with the mindset behind the question.

Today, many people seem focused on finding the lowest common denominator—the smallest amount of truth that different Christian groups can agree on. Their goal is often to bring as many people together as possible. But that often means they end up agreeing on very little.

Some people spend most of their time figuring out how little they can believe and still be considered Christian. That approach is dangerous. Instead of asking, “What’s the least I can believe?” we should be asking, “How much of God’s truth can I learn and hold on to?”

We should be students of the Bible, digging deeply into it with prayer and thought, seeking to understand everything God has revealed. Scripture is not meant to be barely skimmed or taken in pieces. It’s meant to be studied carefully so we can become wise unto salvation (2 Timothy 3:15).

There is no virtue in ignorance. It’s not noble to know less about the truth. Instead, there is great value in growing in our knowledge of God’s Word. The more we understand what God has revealed, the more clearly we’ll see who Christ is and what He has done for us.

In the last chapter, we took a bit of a detour, but now it’s time to return to our main point. We said that when someone accepts Christ—not just in general, but exactly “as He is offered to us in the gospel”—that act of acceptance is what we call saving faith. This acceptance can involve a lot of knowledge or just a little. The more someone knows about Christ, the better it is for their soul. But even a small amount of understanding can lead to a real union with Him. When Christ is trusted for His redeeming work, as the gospel presents Him, the soul of the believer is saved.

One way the Bible describes this salvation is “justification by faith.” We need to take a moment to focus on this specific idea.

Some people might object to the words we’re using. They may say that “justification” sounds too complicated, and “doctrine” sounds too dry or academic. Shouldn’t we use simpler language to help modern people understand?

That idea is common today. Many people are uncomfortable with theological terms. They act as though modern people, especially those in universities, can’t possibly learn new religious vocabulary. So they avoid biblical terms altogether. As a result, some modern translations of the Bible try to put God’s Word into everyday street language. One man even described such a version to me by saying, “It takes all the religion out of the New Testament.”

We think this trend should be resisted. The idea that people can’t learn is insulting. Why should we assume that university students can understand difficult language in science or philosophy, but not in the Bible? Instead of pulling the Bible down to the level of modern man, we should raise modern man up to the level of the Bible.

Precise words are important. In religion, just like in science, a clear vocabulary saves time and brings clarity. So we should not be ashamed of terms like “justification by faith.” These are not outdated or useless words. In fact, they point to something simple and life-giving.

The idea of justification answers one of the most important questions a person can ask: “How can I be right with God? What does He think of me?” Some people never ask that question. They care only about what other people think of them. But those who care more about what God thinks than what people think—those are the people who change the world. The start of true greatness is when someone stops fearing the judgment of people and starts caring about the judgment of God.

So, if we want to be right with God, how can that happen? The obvious answer might be: “By obeying God’s law—by being the kind of person He wants me to be.” That answer is correct in theory. If we had obeyed God perfectly, everything would be fine. We could stand before God and let Him judge us based on our own actions. But we haven’t obeyed His law. We’ve broken it in our thoughts, our words, and our actions. We are sinners—deeply flawed, not just on the surface, but to the very core of who we are.

Some people try to make the law seem smaller so they can feel like they’ve obeyed it. They focus only on the external commands, hoping that by following those, they’ll earn God’s favor. But the moment someone sees the law as it really is—especially as Jesus showed it—he realizes he is ruined. If being right with God depends on anything in us, we are lost.

Thankfully, there is another way into God’s presence, and that way is revealed in the gospel. We deserve eternal death. We deserve to be shut out from God’s family. But Jesus took all our guilt upon Himself. He died in our place on the cross. Because of what He did, the demands of the law have been fully met. Its terror is gone for us. We no longer stand before God in our own goodness but in the righteousness of Christ. And now, we can come without fear—just as Christ Himself would—before the judgment seat of God.

Some say this is a complicated theory, but it’s not. It’s mysterious, yes—but also simple enough for a child to understand.

This wonderful reality is what the Bible calls justification. It means that even though we are sinners, God treats us as righteous because we are united to Christ through faith. He no longer looks at our sin, but at Christ’s righteousness. As Romans 8:1 says, “There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus.”

Now, how do we receive this righteousness? Do we earn it by doing good works? No. Do we have to make ourselves good enough to deserve it? Not at all. We receive it by faith alone. That is why Paul writes in Romans 5:1, “Being therefore justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Faith, in this sense, is not about doing something. It’s not a work. It’s not about earning anything. It’s about trusting—resting in what Christ has done for us. Think of someone drowning in deep water. If you throw him a rope, he doesn’t save himself by grabbing it with skill or strength. He simply clings to it because it’s his only hope. That’s what faith is like. It clings to Jesus.

This doctrine of justification by faith has always been at the center of true Christianity. It’s what gave Martin Luther peace when he had been tormented by guilt. It’s what gave the Reformers courage to stand up to false teaching. And it’s what gives all true believers comfort today. They know that their salvation depends not on their own weak efforts, but on the finished work of Christ.

But someone might ask, “If faith alone saves us, then does it matter how we live? Can’t we just believe and do whatever we want?” That’s a fair question—but a dangerous one if misunderstood.

True faith is never alone. Yes, we are saved by faith alone, but real faith always produces change. It brings with it a new heart, new desires, and a new life. James 2:17 reminds us, “Even so faith, if it has no works, is dead in itself.” A dead faith doesn’t save. But a living faith—true trust in Christ—leads to obedience, not because we’re trying to earn salvation, but because we already have it.

Imagine a man who was sentenced to death but then was fully pardoned. Would he leave the prison and go back to his old crimes? A truly grateful heart would want to live differently. That’s how it is with the believer. We serve Christ not to earn salvation, but because we love Him for saving us.

So, we are saved by faith alone, but the faith that saves is never alone. It is always followed by a changed life, by good works—not to earn heaven, but to glorify God.

Let’s be clear: this righteousness we receive is not something we earn, and it doesn’t come from inside us. It comes from outside of us—it is the righteousness of Jesus Christ, credited to us when we believe.

That’s why this righteousness is often called an “imputed” righteousness. The word “impute” means to count something as belonging to someone, even if it isn’t originally theirs. So, when we trust in Christ, God counts Christ’s righteousness as ours.

This is what Paul means in Philippians 3:9, when he says he wants to “be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own, that which is of the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God by faith.” Paul understood that trying to be right with God through keeping the law would never work. Instead, he placed all his trust in the righteousness that comes by faith in Christ.

This truth is the foundation of Christian hope. Without it, we are left to stand before God on our own record. And our record—no matter how good we think it is—is filled with sin and failure. Isaiah 64:6 says, “We have all become as one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are as a polluted garment.”

But with this truth, we have solid ground to stand on. When we trust in Christ, our past is forgiven, our future is secure, and we can come before God boldly—not because of anything in us, but because of everything in Christ.

This brings great peace to the heart. It gives the believer rest. He no longer has to live in fear, wondering if he’s done enough. He knows that Christ has done it all. And that changes everything.

But justification is not the only part of salvation. It’s only the beginning. Once we are justified—declared righteous before God—we also begin a new life. The Bible calls this sanctification, which means the ongoing work of making us more like Christ.

Justification changes our standing before God—we are accepted because of Christ’s righteousness. Sanctification changes our character—we begin to live differently because Christ now lives in us.

The two go hand in hand. You cannot have one without the other. If someone claims to be justified by faith but shows no evidence of a changed life, we must question whether that faith was real. As Jesus said in Matthew 7:17, “Even so every good tree brings forth good fruit; but the corrupt tree brings forth evil fruit.”

So sanctification is the fruit of faith. It’s not something added to salvation later. It begins the moment we truly believe and continues throughout our lives. It is not perfect in this life—we all still struggle with sin—but it is real and growing. And it is powered not by our own strength, but by the Spirit of God working in us.

This sanctifying work leads to holiness. It affects our thoughts, our words, and our actions. It makes us more loving, more humble, more obedient to God. Hebrews 12:14 tells us, “Follow after peace with all men, and the sanctification without which no man shall see the Lord.” That shows how important this is. Sanctification is not optional for the believer. It is the natural outworking of the life that began with faith.

This full salvation—justification and sanctification together—is the gift of God. We do not earn it by our works. It is given freely by God’s grace, and we receive it by faith alone. But this faith is not a lifeless or empty thing. It is living and active. It joins us to Christ and brings His life into ours.

The faith that saves is the kind of trust that rests completely on Christ—not partly on Christ and partly on ourselves. It is not enough to believe that Christ died and rose again. True faith believes that Christ died and rose again for me. It is a personal trust that leans entirely on Him.

This is what Paul meant in Galatians 2:20 when he said, “The life which I now live in the flesh I live in faith, the faith which is in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself up for me.” When you believe that, from the heart, you are saved.

Faith doesn’t just bring forgiveness; it brings a new life. It changes our relationship with God. We are no longer enemies, but children. Romans 5:1 says, “Being therefore justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” That peace comes not from anything we’ve done but from what Christ has done—and our trust in Him.

In the end, faith is not something complicated or mystical. It is simply taking God at His Word, and depending entirely on Jesus Christ. That is the faith that saves—and that is the only kind of faith worth having.

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