How Can You Be Justified with God?

How Can You Be Justified with God?

There is a question that rises above every other question you will ever ask in this brief and fragile life, a question that stands like a mountain above the plains of human curiosity, refusing to be ignored or postponed, because it reaches beyond the boundaries of time and presses into eternity itself. That question is simply this: How can you be justified with God? You may spend your days wondering where you came from, what your purpose is, how the universe works, or what lies beyond the veil of death, but all these inquiries, however noble or fascinating, eventually bend toward this one unavoidable point. If you cannot stand righteous before a holy God, then every other discovery, achievement, or insight becomes nothing more than a temporary distraction from an eternal problem. Job asked it plainly: “How should man be just with God?” (Job 9:2). Bildad echoed it: “How then can man be justified with God?” (Job 25:4). And whether you realize it or not, your own soul whispers the same question in the quiet hours when the noise of life fades and the weight of eternity presses in.

Yet the tragedy—and the irony—is that although this question is the greatest question ever placed before the human heart, you are utterly incapable of answering it by your own intellect, your own religion, or your own tradition. You may pride yourself on your intelligence, your education, your ability to reason and analyze and debate, but the moment you attempt to climb the heights of God’s righteousness with the ladder of your own understanding, you discover that your ladder is far too short, your footing far too weak, and your vision far too dim. God confronted Job with this reality when He asked, “Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?” (Job 38:4), reminding him—and reminding you—that the human mind, however brilliant, cannot reach into the counsels of God or grasp the depths of His righteousness. You may understand the mechanics of the world around you, but you cannot, by intellect alone, understand the holiness of the God who made it.

Just and the Justifier: How God Solved the Impossible

JUST AND THE JUSTIFIER: HOW GOD SOLVED THE IMPOSSIBLE

There are moments in Scripture where God forces me to stop, breathe, and face reality without the comfort of excuses or the illusion of self‑importance. Romans 1–3 is one of those moments. It is not a gentle introduction to the Christian life; it is a courtroom, a spotlight, and a mirror. It is God taking me by the shoulders and saying, “Look at Me. Look at yourself. Now tell Me how you plan to reconcile the two.” And this is where the true dilemma begins.

THE DILEMMA I CANNOT ESCAPE

God is righteous. I am guilty. I cannot soften either side of that equation. God’s righteousness is not flexible, adjustable, or sentimental. It is absolute. It is the blazing, unchanging standard of His own nature (Deut.32:4). He cannot deny Himself (2 Tim.2:13). He cannot lower His bar. He cannot call evil good or good evil (Isa.5:20). He cannot overlook sin, excuse sin, or pretend sin is something less than what it is.

And then there is me. Not the polished version of me. Not the church‑friendly version of me. Not the version I present to others. The real me — the one God sees (Heb.4:13). Romans 3 does not allow me to hide behind the façade of “I’m not that bad.” It strips me bare and leaves me standing in the full light of divine truth: There is none righteous (Rom.3:10). There is none that doeth good (Rom.3:12). Every mouth is stopped (Rom.3:19). All the world is guilty before God (Rom.3:19).

The Shocking Price of Sin: Adam’s Lesson, Our Reality

This post and its message were inspired by a precious and beloved brother of mine who regularly preaches Christ on the street corners. One of his YouTube videos was the inspiration for this topic and the probable series of posts to come that trace blood, sacrifice, and atonement through Scripture.

Thank you for your faithfulness, Brother Lloyd. 🙏

The Shocking Price of Sin: Adam’s Lesson, Our Reality

Adam was created in perfection. He only knew life. Proof of this is the fact that he named his wife Eve because she was the mother of all living (Genesis 3:20). Death was not part of his world. But when sin entered, everything changed. Shame exposed their nakedness, and fig leaves—human effort—could not cover it.

Genesis 3:21 records: “Unto Adam also and to his wife did the LORD God make coats of skins, and clothed them.” This was no small act. For the first time, Adam saw death. An innocent animal was slain. Blood was shed. Life was taken so that his guilt could be covered. Imagine the shock, the horror, the weight of guilt pressing down as Adam realized: my sin caused this death.

The fig leaves they had sewn together represented man’s attempt to atone for sin by his own effort. But God rejected this. Nothing we do can cover guilt. Only blood, determined by God, can atone. This was not arbitrary—it was prophetic. It pointed forward to Christ, the Lamb of God, whose blood alone would bring true atonement. From the very beginning, God was teaching that forgiveness is not earned by human effort but provided through His appointed sacrifice.

The Quiet Glory of Forbearing: A Lesson from Paul’s Example

The Quiet Glory of Forbearing: A Lesson from Paul’s Example

In 1 Corinthians 9:4-18, Paul lays out a compelling doctrinal truth: those who labour in the gospel have a God-ordained right to receive material support. “Even so hath the Lord ordained that they which preach the gospel should live of the gospel” (v14). Yet Paul, though fully entitled to this provision, chooses to forbear it. Not out of pride. Not to prove a point. But to preserve the purity and power of the gospel’s witness.

This is not a command for all ministers to follow his exact path, but it is a lesson for every believer to consider the heart behind such a choice. Paul’s decision was not driven by fleshly effort or self-glory. He did not boast in his sacrifice, nor did he use it to elevate himself above others. “For though I preach the gospel, I have nothing to glory of: for necessity is laid upon me” (v16). His motive was love. His reward was the privilege of preaching Christ without charge, that no earthly entanglement might hinder the gospel’s reach (v18).

A lesson for laymen

While you may not be called to full-time ministry, you are called to the same spirit of voluntary restraint when it serves the gospel. Whether in finances, relationships, or personal liberties, there may be times when choosing not to exercise a right becomes a quiet act of faith. Not to be seen. Not to be praised. But to protect the testimony of Christ and to walk in love toward others.

When Grace Is Not Enough

When Grace Is Not Enough

We speak often of grace. We sing of it, preach it, post it. But if we’re honest, many of us treat grace like a soft cushion—something to fall back on when we stumble, rather than a foundation to stand on and build from. We receive it, yes. But do we respect it? Do we respond?

Paul’s letters are not shy on this point. Grace is not just a theological comfort—it’s a spiritual responsibility. And if we mishandle it, we don’t lose salvation, but we do lose clarity, fruitfulness, and the joy of walking in step with the Spirit.

Let’s walk slowly through three ways Scripture warns us not to mishandle grace. Not to condemn, but to awaken.

1. Frustrating Grace: When We Try to Help God Out

There’s a quiet danger in trying to help grace along. We don’t mean to, of course. But somewhere between our zeal for holiness and our fear of falling short, we start adding scaffolding to the cross. A little law here, a little self-effort there. Before long, we’re measuring our spiritual health by how well we perform, not how deeply we trust. Paul saw this tendency and wrote plainly: “I do not frustrate the grace of God: for if righteousness come by the law, then Christ is dead in vain” (Galatians 2:21). That’s not just a doctrinal correction—it’s a relational one. When we try to earn what was freely given, we’re not just miscalculating; we’re dishonouring the very heart of the gospel. Grace doesn’t need our help. It needs our surrender.

Charity from a Pure Heart: The End of the Commandment

Charity from a Pure Heart: The End of the Commandment

There is a clarity in Paul’s words to Timothy that settles the heart and sharpens the focus: “Now the end of the commandment is charity out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of faith unfeigned” (1 Timothy 1:5, KJV). This is not a peripheral truth—it is the very purpose of divine instruction. When all is said and done, when doctrine has been taught and principles laid down, this is what God desires: love that flows from purity, integrity, and genuine faith.

Charity, in its biblical sense, is not merely kindness or sentiment. It is the expression of Christ’s life formed within the believer. It is the labour that emerges from a heart shaped by truth, a conscience kept clean, and a faith that is sincere and rooted in Scripture. This kind of love does not originate in the flesh, nor is it sustained by religious habit. It is cultivated through the work of faith—the ongoing process of studying the Word of God, submitting to its authority, and yielding to its correction.

A pure heart is not assumed; it is examined. Before any action, before any judgement, the heart must be searched. Bitterness, envy, strife, and malice must be identified and removed. The believer must ensure that love is the sole motive—unmixed, unforced, and unpretentious. When the heart is pure, the conscience clear, and the faith genuine, the believer is equipped to approve things that are excellent and to walk in the charity that fulfils the commandment.