“The Just Shall Live by Faith”: Martin Luther and Salvation by Faith Alone

An Abbreviated Biographical Sketch

Roland Bainton opens his classic biography of Luther with these words:

On a sultry day in July of the year 1505 a lonely traveler was trudging over a parched road on the outskirts of the Saxon village of Stotternheim. He was a young man, short but sturdy, and wore the dress of a university student. As he approached the village the sky became overcast. Suddenly there was a shower, then a crashing storm. A bolt of lightning rived the gloom and knocked the man to the ground. Struggling to rise, he cried in terror, “St. Anne help me! I will become a monk.”

The man who thus called upon a saint was later to repudiate the cult of saints. He who vowed to become a monk was later to renounce monasticism. A loyal son of the Catholic Church, he was later to shatter the structure of medieval Catholicism. A devoted servant of the pope, he was later to identify the popes with Antichrist. For this young man was Martin Luther.1

Map of Luther’s Germany
Map of Luther’s Germany (from A Reformation Reader2)

Born in Eisleben on 10 November 1483, Martin Luther (d. 18 February 1546) entered a world primed for dramatic change. For context, Mark Noll points out that “within a decade [of Luther’s birth] Columbus would set sail to the West, the last of the Islamic Moors would be pushed out of Spain, and his somewhat older contemporary, Erasmus of Rotterdam, would begin a lifelong study of the Greek texts of the New Testament.”3

Luther’s decision to become a monk dashed his father’s high hopes. When Luther called out to Saint Anne in 1505, he had been studying for a potentially lucrative career in law. Although bishops and other high church officials typically enjoyed an easy life of luxury, the monastic vows of poverty and chastity certainly did not fit with the grandiose dreams of Luther’s middle-class father.4 Much later on, he reminded his father of his fierce disapproval of this decision:

In your paternal affection you feared for my weakness, since I was then a youth, just entering my twenty-second year…. Your own plan for my future was to tie me down with an honorable and wealthy marriage. Your fears for me got on your mind and your anger against me was for a time implacable.5

Early life and evangelical breakthrough

Cathedral of Erfurt
Cathedral of Erfurt (from Flickr user danielmennerich)

Luther would go on to become an Augustinian monk, and studied at the University of Erfurt. Here he became known for his arduous efforts to earn his own salvation through excessive penance and self-deprivation. Later, as Alister McGrath notes, Luther observed that “if ever a monk could get to heaven through monastic discipline, …he was that monk.”6 Yet despite these tremendous efforts, Luther was plagued with doubt which led to despair. He was ever fearful that he had repented incorrectly, or insincerely, or had forgotten to confess some sin.7

Luther found some help during this time from a special friend, his superior Johann von Staupitz (ca. 1468–1524). Staupitz pointed Luther to the study of Scripture for hope in his existential angst, and “also arranged for Luther to take an advanced degree in theology so that, as a practical antidote to his spiritual depression, he could become a university teacher and put his great energies to profitable use.”8

During his education, Luther went on a trip to Rome in 1510. This experience turned out to be a deep disappointment. Luther had anticipated a time of immense personal spiritual benefit for himself and on behalf of his ancestors. He would view relics and the tombs of popes and martyrs. Heinze poignantly summarizes Luther’s disappointment over this experience:

Forty popes and seventy-six thousand martyrs were buried in Rome, and the relics included the rope with which Judas hanged himself, a piece of Moses’s burning bush, the chains of St. Paul, and one of the coins that was paid to Judas for betraying Christ. It was claimed that the steps in front of the Lateran were the very ones that had once stood in front of Pilate’s palace, and if one crawled up all twenty-eight steps on hands and knees repeating the Lords Prayer for each step, a soul would be released from purgatory. In a sermon that he preached the year before he died, Luther stated that when he arrived at the top of the stairs, which he had climbed to free his grandfather from purgatory, the thought kept coming to him, “Who knows whether this is true?” It may be questioned whether Luther remembered this episode accurately over three decades later, but there is no doubt that Luther, who had expected so much from Rome, was bitterly disappointed by his experience. He was shocked by the incompetence, ignorance, venality, and immorality of Italian priests, and he was especially distressed about their irreverence toward the Eucharist and that they rushed through the mass so they could say six or seven to his one. He found the holy city a thoroughly secular city, and he left disillusioned.9

A few years after his return in 1512, Luther obtained his Doctor of Theology degree and began teaching the Bible in Wittenberg.10 Of course, it was here that he would eventually issue the Ninety-five Theses which we discussed last time. The Ninety-five Theses became notorious because Luther’s complaints about the selling of indulgences threatened a complex financial arrangement that not only funded Pope Leo X’s construction of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, but also Albrecht of Brandenburg’s substantial debts. Heinze describes the financial arrangements as follows:

In 1515 Pope Leo X issued a plenary indulgence with the intent of using the proceeds to complete the building of St. Peter’s. The sale became intertwined with German politics when half of the proceeds were designated to help pay the debt which Albrecht of Brandenburg, the twenty-four-year-old brother of Elector Joachim of Brandenburg, had incurred in order to become archbishop of Mainz in 1514. Mainz was not only the largest archdiocese in Christendom, it also had one of the seven votes in the choice of the emperor, and since the ruler of Brandenburg was also an elector, this put two of the seven votes into the hands of one family. Albrecht’s election was technically illegal, according to existing church law, since he was below the required canonical age for an archbishop and was already the archbishop of Magdeburg and administrator of the see of Halberstadt. For this reason a papal dispensation was necessary, which Leo was quite willing to grant in return for a substantial sum of money that he planned to use in his building project. Albrecht agreed to pay the pope twenty-nine thousand Rhenish gold gulden, but since he did not have such a large sum of money available, he borrowed it from the Fugger banking house. In a complex three-cornered arrangement, Leo X agreed that Albrecht would receive half the proceeds of a sale of indulgences, which could be used to repay the Fuggers, while Leo would receive the other half to finance the completion of St. Peters.11

The sale of indulgences created a problem for Luther when his parishioners thought that they could receive absolution of sins without showing any signs of contrition. Misled by John Tetzel, the monk who oversaw the sale of indulgences, they genuinely believed that they had purchased their access to heaven.12 As a result, Luther wrote the Ninety-five Theses, which he included in a letter that he sent to Albrecht of Brandenburg.13 Albrecht forwarded the letter to Pope Leo X in hopes that the pope himself would respond, and eventually Leo sent Cardinal Cajetan to arrest Luther and bring him to trial in Rome.14 At this point, Elector Frederick the Wise of Saxony intervened on Luther’s behalf. He refused to let Luther be taken to Rome, and arranged a meeting with Cajetan in Augsburg in 1518. After this meeting, Pope Leo X issued a papal bull on 9 November 1518 that affirmed Cajetan’s position in opposition to Luther.15

At some point in Luther’s early career, he made a remarkable discovery that ultimately transformed his understanding of the gospel itself, and led to his eventual departure from the doctrine of Rome. Here is Luther’s own account of that discovery, as he recounted it nearly thirty years later:

Though I lived as a monk without reproach, I felt that I was a sinner before God with an extremely disturbed conscience. I could not believe that he was placated by my satisfaction. I did not love, yes, I hated the righteous God who punishes sinners, and secretly, if not blasphemously, certainly murmuring greatly, I was angry with God, and said, “As if, indeed, it is not enough, that miserable sinners, eternally lost through original sin, are crushed by every kind of calamity by the law of the decalogue, without having God add pain to pain by the gospel and also by the gospel threatening us with his righteousness and wrath!” And thus I raged with a fierce and troubled conscience. Nevertheless, I beat importunately upon Paul at that place, most ardently desiring to know what St. Paul wanted.

At last, by the mercy of God, meditating day and night, I gave heed to the context of the words, namely, “In it the righteousness of God is revealed, as it is written, ‘He who through faith is righteous shall live.’” There I began to understand that the righteousness of God is that by which the righteous lives by a gift of God, namely by faith. And this is the meaning: the righteousness of God is revealed by the gospel, namely, the passive righteousness with which merciful God justifies us by faith, as it is written, “He who through faith is righteous shall live.” Here I felt that I was altogether born again and had entered paradise itself through open gates. There a totally other face of the entire Scripture showed itself to me. Thereupon I ran through the Scriptures from memory. I also found in other terms an analogy, as, the work of God, that is, what God does in us, the power of God, with which he makes us strong, the wisdom of God, with which he makes us wise, the strength of God, the salvation of God, the glory of God.

And I extolled my sweetest word with a love as great as the hatred with which I had before hated the word “righteousness of God.” Thus that place in Paul was for me truly the gate to paradise.16

We will return to this event a little later, but for now, I need to point out a few details that are difficult to explain. Luther wrote this account in 1545 as part of an introduction to a collection of his writings published in that year. As fascinating as this account may be, it does not precisely reveal when and where this experience occurred, and there is even some question about the exact nature of what it was that Luther discovered on that day. Sometimes we call this discovery Luther’s “tower experience” because Luther refers to this as his “turmerlebnis” in another account. This suggests that this occurred at the Augustinian monastery in a tower, but other details in Luther’s recollection make this uncertain.17

This experience is hard to date as well. Luther’s account suggests that he made his discovery during his second series of lectures on the book of Psalms, which would mean that this had to occur in 1518. However, it seems as though Luther’s memory may be faulty here, because one can detect what may be hints of Luther’s new-found evangelical faith within the 1517 Ninety-five Theses. If this is correct, then historians suggest that this discovery may have taken place anytime between 1513–1515. In the end, we can’t be sure. If we accept the early date, then it is easy to explain the Ninety-five Theses as a natural development of Luther’s new understanding of grace. If we follow Luther’s own account and date his breakthrough to 1518, then we must understand the Theses as an intrinsically Catholic statement, written by a man tortured by the question, “How can a man be right with God?” In the end, it does not matter either way—we know that Luther came to a clearly evangelical position on God’s grace—but as I hope I demonstrated last night, we must not be too hasty in reading the Theses as a distinctively evangelical protest against the medieval doctrine of justification. Again, we will say more about this in a moment.18

Leipzig debate (1519)

Leipzig Disputation by Hübner
Leipzig Disputation by Hübner (from Wikimedia Commons)

The political situation of western Europe changed dramatically in early 1519. After the death of Emperor Maximilian, Charles V of Spain was elected Holy Roman Emperor on 28 June 1519.19 Charles’ immense power created political instability within Europe, threatening even the power of the church, as Heinze explains:

Emperor Charles V was now the most powerful European prince since Charlemagne, but the nineteen-year-old emperor had his own problems. His great power worried the other rulers of Europe, especially the king of France, Francis I, whose kingdom was surrounded by Hapsburg power and who became Charles’s implacable enemy and was almost continuously at war with him. In the east the Ottoman Turks under Suleiman the Magnificent (1520-1566) threatened the border of the empire, crushing the Hungarians at the Battle of Mohacs in 1526 and laying siege to Vienna in 1529. The political situation was to have a major effect on the Reformation. The papacy was often more concerned about curtailing the emperor’s power than about the Reformation, while Charles’s attention was constantly diverted by his political problems, so he was unable to deal effectively with the developing schism in his empire. He also needed the support of the Lutheran princes against the Turks, so he could not afford to alienate them.20

Soon after Charles’ election, Luther engaged in the Leipzig Disputation with Johann Eck. Eck’s approach to the debate was to compare Luther’s teachings with those of John Hus, who had been condemned as heretical by the Council of Constance (1414–1418). When Luther admitted that he agreed with Hus on papal authority, Eck sprang his trap. He provoked Luther to make this statement:

I assert that a council has sometimes erred and may sometimes err. Nor has a council authority to establish new articles of faith. A council cannot make divine right out of that which by nature is not divine right. Councils have contradicted each other…. A simple layman armed with Scripture is to be believed above a pope or council without.. .. Neither the Church nor the pope can establish articles of faith. These must come from Scripture. For the sake of Scripture we should reject pope and council.21

When Eck failed to convince Frederick the Wise to condemn Luther, he then wrote to the pope asking him to excommunicate Luther as a heretic.22

Publishing frenzy of 1520 and excommunication

Portrait of Luther
Portrait of Luther (from Wikimedia Commons)

Meanwhile, Luther had become a popular German hero, and during the year 1520 he published “sixteen treatises and over a hundred sermons.”23 During this period, Luther clearly espoused views that would be considered heretical by the Catholic church. Below, Mark Noll provides a helpful summary of some of Luther’s major works during this period:

The remarkable nature of Luther’s literary productivity is shown especially by what he published in 1520. Apart from the distinct value of each work, together they provided much of the bulk that was laid on the table at Worms during the confrontation with Charles V. In 1520 alone Luther published, besides a flurry of less substantial writings, five major books. His Treatise on Good Works claimed to show how faith in Christ was, strictly speaking, the only good work that God expected from repentant sinners; moreover, the “work” of faith was something humans could perform only by grace because faith itself was a gift from God. Luther’s aggressive The Papacy of Rome intimated that the pope should be called Antichrist because, although he was supposed to be the vicar of Christ, he actually kept people from understanding and heeding the message of the gospel. His Address to the Christian Nobility of the German Nation was a rousing appeal to leaders north of the Alps to throw off the tyranny— economic and political as well as spiritual—that bound them to Rome. His Babylonian Captivity of the Church presented a searching examination of the church’s sevenfold system of sacraments. By claiming to find only baptism and the Lord’s Supper, and perhaps confession, as sacraments authorized by Christ in the New Testament—and by arguing that the Catholic Church’s domination of sacramental practice had turned them into works of self-righteousness—Luther threatened the very foundations of Christendom as it had grown up around the sacramental system. In contrast to the sharp polemics of these other works, Luther’s last major book from 1520, The Freedom of a Christian, was a much more irenic effort to explain how a believer, redeemed entirely by the exercise of divine grace, would nevertheless naturally be active in doing good works. Luther, with his gift for paradox, put it like this: “A Christian is a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none. A Christian is a perfectly dutiful servant of all, subject to all.”24

Obviously, with statements like these Luther had clearly given up any prospect of reconciliation with Rome. And this reconciliation never came. Before any of these major works had been published, the pope had already written the papal bull Exsurge Domine,25 which excommunicated Luther, calling him “the wild boar from the forest”26 Published in June of 1520, the bull gave Luther sixty days to recant. Instead, Luther and his students publicly burned the bull, along with works of scholastic theology and copies of canon law, sixty days later on December 10. By the beginning of the next year, Luther was proclaimed a heretic in Rome.27

Luther Burns the Papal Bull in the Square of Wittenberg – 1520 – Karl Aspelin – 1885
Luther Burns the Papal Bull in the Square of Wittenberg – 1520 – Karl Aspelin – 1885 (from Wikimedia Commons)

Diet of Worms (1521)

Luther at the Diet of Worms (1521)
Luther at the Diet of Worms (1521) (from Wikimedia Commons)

All of this brings us to the momentous event of the Diet of Worms in 1521. Although the church had already proclaimed Luther a heretic, this ecclesiastical sanction would be practically meaningless unless Charles V chose to punish Luther. With other problems on his hands, Charles was reluctant to have Luther appear before him, yet he nevertheless did summon Luther to appear before him because of pressure from Frederick the Wise.28 Under an imperial guarantee of safe-conduct, Luther journeyed to Worms. He feared death despite the imperial guarantee, saying to supporters in Erfurt that “I have had my Palm Sunday, I wonder whether this pomp is merely a temptation or whether it is also a sign of my impending passion.”29

When he first appeared before the emperor on 17 April 1521, he was confronted with a table piled high with copies of his own writings. The pile was so immense that, as Noll relates, “Charles and his aides, when first they came into the chamber, expressed doubt that any single person could have written so much.”30 The question to Luther that day was simple: will you recant these your writings? Perhaps as a strategic move, or perhaps more likely simply out of the natural frustration of any academic asked to summarize his life’s work in a single sweeping generalization, Luther requested one more day to consider his reply because the works on the table were of different kinds. Grudgingly, this request was granted.31

Luther faced the emperor one last time on 18 April 1521 at 6 PM.32 There could be no stalling now. Noll vividly retells the story below:

Now he could delay no longer, and the charge came once again: “Come then; answer the question of his majesty, whose kindness you have experienced in seeking a time for thought. Do you wish to defend all your acknowledged books, or to retract some?”

Luther, who obviously had considered his reply carefully, responded that his books were of three kinds. Some were works of simple piety that no Christian ruler or church official could possibly want to be withdrawn. A second category were works directed against “the papacy and the affairs of the papists as those who both by their doctrines and very wicked examples have laid waste the Christian world with evil that affects the spirit and the body.” Luther did not think anyone would want to defend the evils that those books attacked. But the third kind of writing, Luther conceded, did contain some things that were overly harsh, which he was willing to consider retracting, but only on one very important condition. At this point, Luther laid down his gauntlet: “Therefore, I ask by the mercy of God, may your most serene majesty, most illustrious lordships, or anyone at all who is able, either high or low, bear witness, expose my errors, overthrowing them by the writings of the prophets and the evangelists. Once I have been taught I shall be quite ready to renounce every error, and I shall be the first to cast my books into the fire.” And so Luther ended his defense.

But he had not been explicit enough for the imperial court. The emperor’s spokesman pressed him again. Luther had not really answered the question. Would he recant or not? Deal plainly, not with a “horned,” or ambiguous, reply. Then Luther spoke words that augured one of the most momentous changes in the history of Europe, and one of the most significant in the history of the church: “Since then your serene majesty and your lordships seek a simple answer, I will give it in this manner, neither horned nor toothed: Unless I am convinced by the testimony of the Scriptures or by clear reason (for I do not trust either in the pope or in councils alone, since it is well known that they have often erred and contradicted themselves), I am bound by the Scriptures I have quoted and my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and I will not retract anything, since it is neither safe nor right to go against conscience.”33

Over the next several days, Luther met with a delegation led by the archbishop of Trier who continued to try to persuade him to recant. He did not, and on April 25 he requested to leave for Wittenberg.34 Heinze remarks that “the course of history may have been changed bbecause a twenty-one-year-old emperor kept his promise of a safe conduct and Luther was later allowed to leave Worms under a new safe conduct.”35 It would not be until 26 May that Charles V officially condemned Luther as a heretic in the Edict of Worms, but by then, Luther had already been “kidnapped” by masked horsemen on the road back to Wittenberg. During this time, Luther disappeared from the public eye.


Wartburg Castle exterior
Wartburg Castle exterior (from Wikimedia Commons)

As it later became clear, Luther’s captors were actually hired by Frederick the Wise, and he had been hidden in Wartburg Castle for his own protection. Over the next ten months, Luther remained there in disguise.36 During this time, he produced a German translation of the New Testament.

Luther’s room at Wartburg Castle
Luther’s room at Wartburg Castle (from Wikimedia Commons)

Noll concisely summarizes some of the major events of 1525 in the selection that follows:

Soon after his appearance at Worms, Luther prepared a revised church order for worship in addition to translating the New Testament into German. In 1525 further decisive actions clarified what Luther felt was a proper response to the gospel. In rapid succession he married Katherine von Bora, herself a former nun; he chastised rebellious peasants for thinking that his interpretation of gospel freedom legitimated political rebellion; and he published a lengthy defense of “the bound will” against the humanist and biblical scholar Erasmus. These moves showed clearly what Luther felt a reformed church should look like. It no longer needed a special priestly caste to do the real work of God; it certainly should not be taken as an excuse to disrupt the social order; and it should fully embrace Augustine’s understanding of human nature as willfully captive to its own selfishness until God changed the will to honor himself.37

Although Luther’s career continued on until his death in 1546, the most tumultuous period was now over.

Luther and Katie
Luther and Katie (from Wikimedia Commons)

Justification by Faith Alone and the Theology of the Cross

I’d like to now return to Luther’s famed evangelical breakthrough which we discussed earlier and consider in more detail something of the substance of what he seems to have discovered in that early period when he labored under the weight of his sin guilt before God. Luther’s sense of his own inability to satisfy the demands of God’s righteousness caused him to wrestle intensely with the question “what must I do to be saved?” When he said, as we read earlier, that he “beat importunately” upon the text of the apostle Paul, he was referring to this text:

NAU Rom. 1:16-17 For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. 17 For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith to faith; as it is written, “BUT THE RIGHTEOUS man SHALL LIVE BY FAITH.”

The particularly troublesome part of this text for Luther was the phrase “the righteousness of God.” This phrase has been understood in several ways, as follows:

Four views of the righteousness of God38

  1. The justice of God (negative emphasis: punishing sinners), probably in view in Rom 3:25–26

    This view, though it is very old, is wrong for this verse. It is this view that was a stumblingblock for Martin Luther for many years, because he could not understand how Paul could be so positive about a righteous God who must punish sinners in wrath. Furthermore, Luther realized that despite his diligent efforts as a monk, he could never attain enough righteousness to appease God’s wrath and achieve justification in this life.

  2. The faithfulness of God (divine attribute): “God’s righteousness” (positive emphasis on OT promises)

  3. The status given by God (divine achievement): “right standing” (alien righteousness, see esp. 3:21)

    Both views 2 and 3 have much to commend them. View 3 is the view that Luther eventually came to accept after his gospel conversion. Because these two each have so much going for them, John Stott writes in his commentary that “I have never been able to see why we have to choose.”39 He then argues for what has become the fourth common view.

  4. “God’s act of putting people in the right” (divine activity): (eschatological fulfillment, which implies view 2 and 3)

As a result of Luther’s evangelical breakthrough, he would go on to argue three points regarding the doctrine of justification:

  1. Faith has a personal, rather than a purely historical, reference.
  2. Faith concerns trust in the promises of God.
  3. Faith unites the believer to Christ.

Alister McGrath ably expands these points on pp. 121–122 of his Reformation Thought, and if time permits I’d like to share a few of his comments with you on this topic.40

Luther describes his most significant theological discovery as something he called the “theology of the cross.” In his thought, this contrasted negatively with the “theology of glory” that he saw in the Roman church. If time permits, I’d like to read a few pages from Noll here (Turning Points, 158–162) where he vividly describes this idea and its consequences.

A Mighty Fortress

Luther’s legacy not only includes theology, but music. Luther was a gifted musician who believed that the church ought to express its faith in new music. Of his many hymns, of course, the best known is “A Mighty Fortress is Our God.”

Just a few weeks ago, Dan Forrest released a new choral arrangement of this hymn that is absolutely stunning. I thought we’d enjoy listening to it together. It’s available on Soundcloud where you can download it for free.

  1. Roland H. Bainton, Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 2015), 21.

  2. Denis R. Janz, A Reformation Reader: Primary Texts With Introductions, Second Edition, 2nd Revised edition edition. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2008), 76.

  3. Mark A. Noll, Turning Points: Decisive Moments in the History of Christianity, 3rd ed. (Baker Academic, 2012), 150.

  4. Rudolph W. Heinze, Reform and Conflict: From the Medieval World to the Wars of Religion (AD 1350-1648), ed. John D. Woodbridge et al., The Baker History of the Church 4 (Grand Rapids, Mich: Baker Books, 2004), 72.

  5. Luther quoted in ibid., .

  6. Alister E. McGrath, Reformation Thought: An Introduction, 4 edition. (Malden, MA ; Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012), 119.

  7. ibid., .

  8. Noll, Turning Points, 150.

  9. Heinze, Reform and Conflict, 75–76.

  10. Bainton, Here I Stand, 17.

  11. Heinze, Reform and Conflict, 79–80.

  12. ibid., , 82–83.

  13. ibid., , 83.

  14. ibid., , 85.

  15. ibid., , 86.

  16. Luther quoted in Noll, Turning Points, 151.

  17. McGrath, Reformation Thought, 120.

  18. Heinze, Reform and Conflict, 78; Noll, Turning Points, 150–151; McGrath, Reformation Thought, 119–120.

  19. Heinze, Reform and Conflict, 87.

  20. ibid., , 87–88.

  21. Luther quoted in ibid., , 89.

  22. ibid., , 90.

  23. ibid., , 90.

  24. Noll, Turning Points, 152–153.

  25. Heinze, Reform and Conflict, 93.

  26. Quoted in Noll, Turning Points, 149.

  27. Heinze, Reform and Conflict, 94.

  28. ibid., , 94.

  29. Luther quoted in ibid., , 95.

  30. Noll, Turning Points, 145.

  31. ibid., , 145.

  32. ibid., , 144.

  33. ibid., , 145–146.

  34. Heinze, Reform and Conflict, 96.

  35. ibid., .

  36. ibid., .

  37. Noll, Turning Points, 153–154.

  38. Douglas J. Moo, Encountering the Book of Romans: A Theological Survey, ed. Walter Elwell, 2 edition. (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2014), 28–29.

  39. idem, in The Message of Romans, Bible Speaks Today, 63.

  40. McGrath, Reformation Thought, 121–122.