—By Michael A. Graham
✥ Introduction
This past weekend, I kept Misha and Sasha while their parents were at the hospital here in Italy having their third child. Misha is two. Sasha is four. Over the past three years, I’ve become like a grandfather to them. Their family is part of our military church in Vicenza, and I love them deeply.
I was working on my sermon for Romans 14:23—“Whatever does not proceed from faith is sin.” The title was “The Nature of Faith.” I thought I knew what I wanted to say. But sometime between cleaning up breakfast, chasing them around the house, and answering the same question for the fifth time in a row, I realized I wasn’t just preparing to preach—I was being preached to.
Every time I said something, one of them had a correction. A counterpoint. A confident opinion. And not quietly. They told me—boldly and decisively—what I had done wrong and what should be happening instead. I smiled. And then I saw it. That’s me.
It was like watching a film of my life. The way I often lead, teach, preach, or parent from the position of “I already know. I already understand. So now what’s left is to help others see it too.”
I laughed. The good kind of laugh. The kind that comes when you recognize something true about yourself and you know your Father sees it too. I’m glad my Heavenly Father has such a great sense of humor. I understand now what Luther meant when he said, “We have as much laughter as we have faith.”
I’ve been coming to see how easily faith is replaced by the presumptive position—the claim that I already know, already understand, and that what remains is for me to act, apply, or correct. I’ve seen it through Jack Miller’s sermon “The Primacy of Faith,” through Warren Farrell’s research in The Liberated Man, through E.R. Chamberlin’s The Sack of Rome and Martyn Rady’s The Habsburgs, through my own preaching, and through the writing I’ve been doing around Romans 13 and 14. What the boys showed me was me—my whole life running like a film before my eyes.
That’s what this essay is about. Not something new, but something old—seen again, from the ground of faith.
Before we can walk by faith, we have to see what so often takes its place—in us, in the church, and across the systems we trust to hold the world together.
I. The Presumptive Position in Scripture
In Eden, God had spoken. He was present. Adam and Eve could have asked Him. They heard another voice: “Did God actually say…?” (Gen. 3:1). They looked. They saw that the tree was good for food, a delight to the eyes, and desirable to make one wise (Gen. 3:6). They took. They ate. The voice of the Lord God came walking in the garden in the cool of the day (Gen. 3:8).
At Babel, the people said, “Let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves” (Gen. 11:4). They gathered. They spoke the same language. They agreed on a plan. They built. “And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower… and the Lord dispersed them” (Gen. 11:5, 8).
When the Lord delivered Israel, He gave them everything they needed to live with Him. He promised Abraham: “I will bless you… and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Gen. 12:2–3). He brought them out of Egypt (Ex. 12:51). He gave them His law: “I am the Lord your God… You shall have no other gods before me” (Ex. 20:2–3). He stayed with them: “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest” (Ex. 33:14). He chose them: “The Lord your God has chosen you to be a people for his treasured possession” (Deut. 7:6).
The Lord gave them His law. He gave them His presence. He gave them His promises. And while Moses was still on the mountain, the people made a golden calf (Ex. 32:1). They shaped their worship around what they understood, and what they could control.
Isaiah said, “This people draws near with their mouth and honors me with their lips, while their hearts are far from me” (Isa. 29:13). Jeremiah said, “Do not trust in these deceptive words: ‘This is the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord’” (Jer. 7:4). Hosea said, “I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings” (Hos. 6:6).
The people still offered sacrifices. They still quoted Scripture. They still gathered for worship. The words were familiar. The forms continued. The heart moved elsewhere.
Paul writes about the people of Israel—his own heritage, his own community, the people through whom God had given the law and the promises. He says, “Being ignorant of the righteousness of God, and seeking to establish their own, they did not submit to God’s righteousness” (Rom. 10:3). Zeal remained. Knowledge remained. The pattern of devotion remained. But righteousness had shifted from something to receive to something to produce.
Later in the same letter, Paul saw the same posture inside the church.
In Rome, believers were dividing over food, sacred days, and matters of conscience (Rom. 14:2–6). Convictions formed. Arguments sharpened. Each side stood firm. Paul gave no ruling on the specific questions. He wrote, “Whatever does not proceed from faith is sin” (Rom. 14:23). That sentence reached beneath their conclusions and placed the ground beneath them under examination.
The people hear the voice of the Lord. They receive His promises, His commands, His presence. And then they begin to speak and act from what they already believe to be true. They answer their own questions without turning to Him. They move ahead without seeking His word. They carry forward what they assume He wants, rather than asking what He has said.
Across the arc of Scripture, this pattern appears in moments of rebellion and in moments of religious certainty. It appears in Genesis and Exodus, in the prophets and the gospels, in Israel and in the church.
This is the presumptive position:
“I already know what is true. I already understand what is right. What remains is for me to apply it, to act on it, to speak to others about it, or to correct them.”
The Bible shows this posture at the root of sin. In Eden. At Babel. In Israel’s idolatry and self-righteousness. In the church’s divisions. In those who devour one another rather than walk in love. In those who destroy the ones for whom Christ died (Rom. 14:15).
I’ve seen this. In my preaching. In my teaching. In my heart.
The Scriptures reveal this posture again and again. Justification by faith alone confronts it with something stronger—the righteousness of Christ, given by God and received by faith. That’s where we go next.
II. The Gospel Thread: Faith and the Presumptive Position in Romans
I’ve been preaching through Romans for about a year now—not as long as David Martyn Lloyd-Jones, but long enough. One of the most important things I learned years ago—mainly from Jack Miller—was that the gospel is for Christians, not just for non-Christians. That was a breakthrough. But as I’ve kept preaching through Romans, what’s surprised me even more is how often Paul does exactly that. In almost every chapter, he preaches God’s gospel again—to believers. And now I’m starting to see why: the presumptive position keeps reappearing. And only the gospel has the power to pull it up by the roots.
Paul opens with this: “I am eager to preach the gospel to you also who are in Rome” (Rom. 1:15). These believers already claimed the gospel. Yet Paul begins again—because the gospel is not only an introduction. It is the whole foundation. And wherever the gospel becomes assumed, the presumptive position begins to form.
The presumptive position begins with this claim: “I already know. I already understand. I already carry the truth.” From there, it moves outward: “What remains is to correct others or separate from them.” This posture often resembles faith, because both carry confidence. But the object differs. People who take the presumptive position trust in themselves or in man. People who walk by faith rely on Christ and receive what He gives.
Paul writes to a church known for its faith (Rom. 1:8), yet still in need of the gospel—because “faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Rom. 10:17). He sees the deeper posture forming—and he meets it with the gospel.
In Romans 1, Paul begins with a pattern that runs through human history. Speaking first of Gentiles, he writes: “They exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images” (Rom. 1:23). “Claiming to be wise, they became fools” (Rom. 1:22). Here the presumptive position appears in its most direct form: people rely on their own wisdom and drift into idolatry. Paul gives a single answer: “The righteous shall live by faith” (Rom. 1:17). The gospel does not leave room for self-constructed clarity. It calls for dependence.
In Romans 2, Paul turns to those who teach and speak from knowledge of the law. “You then who teach others, do you teach yourself?” (Rom. 2:21). “You who boast in the law dishonor God by breaking the law” (Rom. 2:23). Here, the presumptive position hides beneath heritage and clarity. These people believe their knowledge secures them. But Paul calls them back: “God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance” (Rom. 2:4). He names their posture—not to shame them, but to return them to mercy.
In Romans 3, Paul brings everyone under one sentence: “None is righteous, no, not one” (Rom. 3:10). “All have turned aside” (Rom. 3:12). “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23). Here the presumptive position collapses under the weight of Scripture itself. Into that silence, Paul proclaims the gospel: “The righteousness of God has been manifested… through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe” (Rom. 3:21–22). God gives Christ. And faith receives what no one else can secure.
In Romans 4, Paul turns to Abraham. “Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness” (Rom. 4:3). This happened before circumcision, before obedience, before Israel. The church in Rome faced a familiar temptation: to place confidence in identity markers. Here the presumptive position adds status to grace and draws boundaries where God has offered promise. Paul dismantles that posture. “It was counted to him… and will be counted to us also who believe in him who raised from the dead Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 4:22–24).
In Romans 5, Paul writes, “Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom. 5:1). This peace is already declared. “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Rom. 5:5). The presumptive position says, “Keep proving it.” Paul says, “Christ already has.” The ground does not shift. The verdict does not change. Faith receives Christ.
In Romans 6, Paul addresses a distortion: “Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound?” (Rom. 6:1). The presumptive position now wears the mask of freedom. It treats grace as permission. Paul brings them back to union with Christ: “You also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 6:11). People who are alive in Christ do not manage grace. They walk in the life He gives.
In Romans 7, Paul speaks of the inner war. “I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out” (Rom. 7:18). “Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Rom. 7:24). The law cannot rescue. The mind cannot carry the weight. Here, the presumptive position attempts to live from spiritual knowledge apart from spiritual dependence. Paul names his need “Wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from this body of death” (Rom. 7:24) and then gives thanks to God—“through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Rom. 7:25). That’s faith.
In Romans 8, Paul declares: “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 8:1). The Spirit assures, leads, and indwells. The church now cries out, “Abba! Father!” (Rom. 8:15). The presumptive position fractures community through roles and distinctions. But here the children of God speak with one voice. Justification forms the family.
In Romans 9 through 11, Paul speaks of Israel’s history and calling. “So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God who has mercy” (Rom. 9:16). “They did not submit to God’s righteousness, but sought to establish their own” (Rom. 10:3). Here the presumptive position appears again—rooted in zeal and effort. Paul answers with Christ: “Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes” (Rom. 10:4).
In Romans 12, Paul opens with a call: “I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice” (Romans 12:1). Paul speaks to believers who may begin with the presumptive position—thinking their gifts, roles, or obedience are the foundation of Christian maturity. He names this when he says, “Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but think with sober judgment” (Romans 12:3). Paul redirects the Church to mercy. The faith position receives from God and offers the whole life back to Him. Every act of worship rises from mercy received.
In Romans 13, Paul begins with this: “There is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God” (Romans 13:1). Paul calls Christians to live under earthly authorities while remembering that every ruler answers to Christ. Some people seek peace through political control. Others seek freedom by rejecting any rule. But Paul speaks a better word: “Owe no one anything, except to love each other” (Romans 13:8). The faith position receives Christ as King. From that ground, the believer can live peaceably, act honorably, and walk in love—because Jesus already reigns.
In Romans 14 and 15, Paul names the conflict. “Why do you pass judgment on your brother?” (Rom. 14:10). “Do not destroy the one for whom Christ died” (Rom. 14:15). The church had turned convictions into boundaries. People brought their certainty into the center and fractured what Christ had joined. Here the presumptive position builds walls where Christ has already made peace. Paul brings them back: “Whatever does not proceed from faith is sin” (Rom. 14:23).
In Romans 16, Paul shows the gospel at work in real people. Paul writes, “Greet Prisca and Aquila, my fellow workers in Christ Jesus… Greet those workers in the Lord, Tryphaena and Tryphosa… Greet my beloved Persis” (Romans 16:3, 12). He names households, helpers, friends, and coworkers. Each greeting reveals something the gospel builds—a family formed by grace. The faith position sees people through the eyes of Christ. Paul ends with praise: “Now to him who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel… to bring about the obedience of faith… to the only wise God be glory forevermore through Jesus Christ!” (Romans 16:25–27). The gospel strengthens, reveals, and gathers. And faith gives glory to God.
Across Romans, the pattern is consistent. Wherever the presumptive position appears—through knowledge, effort, identity, discipline, or conviction—Paul returns the church to the gospel. God’s gospel removes self-dependence and re-centers everything on Christ. Justification by faith alone gives Christ and clears away every other foundation.
The presumptive position begins with the claim, “I already know. I already understand. What remains is to correct, apply, or divide.” But justification by faith alone leaves no ground for self-trust. It brings righteousness from outside ourselves—righteousness found in Christ and received by faith.
III. Faith Alone and the “Appropriation” of Christ
Paul preaches God’s gospel—the message concerning Christ. Through that Word, faith comes. And through faith, the believer receives Christ. When the church begins to rely on their own understanding, conviction, or spiritual identity apart from Him, Paul brings them back to the gospel. Justification by faith alone ensures that it is always Christ alone—because through faith, the Spirit joins the believer to Christ and gives what belongs to Him.
Jack Miller said it clearly: “Faith appropriates Christ.” That one line shapes this section. Faith receives Christ Himself—His righteousness, His obedience, His death, His resurrection, His Spirit, and His reign. Through that union, the believer receives everything Christ has secured.
The Presumptive Position and Faith—Side by Side
The presumptive position often goes unrecognized. It functions as a foundation beneath our words and actions. It takes shape when we begin to rely on our own understanding, clarity, or conviction apart from Christ. Paul shows where this leads: biting and devouring one another (Gal. 5:15), division, rivalry, and dissension (Gal. 5:20). These things have helped me see that when I rely on what I already understand apart from Christ, my words and actions begin to follow the same pattern.
Faith opens the hand. Faith rests in Christ. Faith receives what God has already provided. The confidence of faith draws entirely from who Christ is and what He has done.
Faith in Christ is the Spirit-given position of receiving His righteousness, His obedience, His death, His resurrection, and His reign—and resting in Him alone.
The Reformers described faith as an instrument. This instrument joins the believer to Christ. Through that union, God declares righteousness, grants peace, and gives life. The verdict flows from Christ. Faith receives what Christ has already secured.
What Faith Receives
Faith appropriates Christ. And through Christ, the believer receives every gift God has promised:
- The righteousness of Christ
- His full standing before the Father
- His obedience and resurrected life
- His Spirit, present and active
- Peace with God, access to the Father, and assurance of adoption
- A name, a home, and a future secured by grace
- The full rights of sonship, with God as Father and Christ as elder brother
“To all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God” (John 1:12). Faith brings Christ. And in Christ, the believer receives everything. “For all the promises of God find their Yes in him. That is why it is through him that we utter our Amen to God for his glory” (2 Cor. 1:20).
What Hebrews 11:1 Describes
“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Heb. 11:1). This verse shows how faith lives. It describes the position of trusting God’s promises when they remain invisible. It displays how dependence moves forward.
Hebrews 11 walks through the lives of those who trusted God across generations—Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham. Each received what God gave and responded in trust. Their stories reveal the shape of faith in real time, through real cost, and with confidence in the Giver.
Appropriation as Covenant Reception
The word “appropriation” carries different meanings in our current culture. Often, it refers to taking something that belongs to someone else, especially in ways that exploit, misrepresent, or dishonor. But that is not what happens in the gospel. Faith appropriates Christ because God gives Christ. In the gospel, appropriation means receiving what has been freely and graciously offered. It honors the Giver, and it rests in what the Giver has secured.
God speaks of faith as a marriage bond. This union forms through promise and endures through presence. Faith joins the believer to Christ—His person, not only His benefits. “You have died to the law through the body of Christ, so that you may belong to another, to him who has been raised from the dead, in order that we may bear fruit for God” (Rom. 7:4).
This union is personal, fertile, and filled with grace. Through it, Christ brings life. The believer returns again and again, repenting of self-confidence and turning toward Christ with open hands—receiving righteousness, intimacy, and fruitfulness from Him alone.
This belonging shapes the Christian life. It brings the believer into real union—fruitful, enduring, and sustained by grace.
Faith and the Spirit: One Movement from Two Directions
Wherever faith in Christ appears, the Spirit is already present. Jack often said that faith is the manward side of the Spirit’s work. The Holy Spirit applies the gospel, awakens trust, and draws the believer to Christ. Faith responds by receiving what the Spirit reveals.
Faith grows from the Spirit’s presence. “The Lord is my portion,” the psalmist writes (Ps. 119:57). That truth becomes personal as the Spirit gives Christ and faith receives Him. “All things are possible for one who believes” (Mark 9:23), because faith joins the believer to the One who holds all things.
The Ongoing Position of Faith
Justification secures the verdict once and for all. That verdict does not move. And God has ordained that the believer would walk with Christ on that ground every day—through faith alone. When the believer begins to presume upon the gospel, the presumptive position reenters. Confidence shifts from Christ to what we already know or think is right. The desire for control grows, and the posture of surrender fades. But faith turns back to Christ and receives again what has already been given. This is how the believer continues: always dependent, always receiving.
Why Faith Alone Holds
Faith opens the hand and receives Christ. The believer stands in Him, with no remaining debt and no unfinished work. All strength and life flows from Christ.
Some traditions emphasize justification by faith at the beginning of the Christian life, but later speak of righteousness as something the believer must secure or sustain. Paul describes this position in Romans 10—those who “being ignorant of the righteousness of God, seek to establish their own.” This pursuit can take many forms, including sincere conviction and theological clarity. Jack Miller wrote, “Faith alone is the exclusive means for the believer’s continuance in justification.” God gives Christ at the beginning—and continues giving Him through faith alone. Justification is declared once, and God has ordained that the believer would live from that verdict by continuing in faith from first to last. This verdict comes personally, through faith, and brings the believer into union with Christ.
The righteousness of Christ is already ours by faith—and that same righteousness in justification by faith alone will be brought forward at the final judgment, vindicating God as both just and justifier. Every knee will bow before His judgment, and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.
Jack said it simply: “Faith is what keeps you looking to Christ—repentance cannot do that, and love cannot do that.” God appointed faith as the channel through which we receive, appropriate, and maintain our whole relationship with Christ. Through that faith, the gospel brings us home again and again.
This is the ground from which everything else grows.
IV. The Historical Resistance: Why Rome Couldn’t Receive Sola Fide
I’ve studied justification by faith alone for years—biblically, theologically, pastorally. I’ve preached it, taught it, and returned to it often in Scripture. But it was reading about the Sack of Rome, the Habsburgs, the Holy Roman Empire, the papacy, and the political maneuverings of Charles V, François, Henry VIII, and the Ottomans that something became clearer.
Every power structure was pressing for more—more authority over kingdoms, marriages, churches, consciences, lands, and souls. People believed they were right. They believed they understood. And from that confidence, they acted. I began to see the presumptive position at work in all of it—a posture that stood opposed to justification by faith alone and the kingdom of God. These powers refused to surrender. But the gospel did not seek a compromise. It confronted their foundations and removed the center they had built.
The Roman Catholic Church as the Moral Center
The resistance to the gospel arose from deep institutional confidence. Renaissance Rome positioned itself as the moral and artistic center of the world. The papacy stood as both guardian and embodiment of truth. This role emerged through a deliberate convergence of theology, political authority, and visual splendor.
Humanist ideals revived a vision of man as glorious, noble, and reborn. In that vision, the Roman Catholic Church stood above man as the axis of renewal and moral clarity. Michelangelo’s ceiling in the Sistine Chapel told the story—creation, fall, and divine authority. Painted during the papacy of Julius II and completed under Leo X, the fresco portrayed a world shaped and judged by God, and ordered through the Church.
After the Sack of Rome, Michelangelo returned to paint The Last Judgment on the same chapel wall. The figures carried a heavier tone. Christ no longer hovered in triumph. He sat in authority and judgment. The contrast between the two works revealed a deeper shift: the confidence of Renaissance Rome had fractured. The center it once claimed stood exposed.
Conciliarism and the Threat to Supremacy
Before the Reformation, conciliar movements challenged papal centrality from within. The Councils of Constance and Basel affirmed that the universal Church, gathered in council, carried authority above any individual pope. These councils called the Church back to humility and to shared submission under Christ. They believed that reform required collective accountability, not isolated control.
The Renaissance popes reversed that trajectory. Sixtus IV, Julius II, and Leo X reestablished papal supremacy. The councils faded. Rome tightened its center. Moral failures continued, but the structure held. The presumptive position moved from doctrine to administration, from posture to institution.
By the time justification by faith alone re-emerged through the Reformers, it echoed what God had revealed from the beginning. The just shall live by faith.
In every generation, God gave righteousness through faith in His promise. The Reformers returned to that center. But the Church had already declared its authority to govern the flow of grace. The gospel arrived as correction, but the institution had long since closed itself to correction. The Church responded not with submission, but with reinforcement.
Collapse Before the Clampdown: Papal Power in Crisis
After Leo X’s golden era of diplomacy and building, Adrian VI stepped into office with sorrow. He carried a vision of reform. His brief tenure revealed the loneliness of that vision. Clement VII succeeded him in 1523 and inherited an empire on the edge. The Ottomans advanced from the east. Protestant theology spread across the north. Imperial armies surrounded the Papal States. Within, Clement saw few friends. Without, he trusted no one.
He tried to balance powers—François and Charles, monarchy and church. The balance broke in 1527. Imperial soldiers stormed the walls of Rome. Clement fled to Castel Sant’Angelo. He remained under guard for months, a prisoner in the tomb of a Caesar. When he finally escaped, he left behind a ruined city and a shaken Church.
Chamberlin describes the scene: a Pope slipping through the streets in a hood and cloak, carrying a basket, pretending to be a servant. The papacy had once defined moral authority. Now it fled for safety outside itself. Clement reached Orvieto and then Viterbo. He governed a Church in exile. Charles V addressed the city of Rome in a letter and omitted Clement’s name. The omission carried meaning. The papacy no longer held center stage.
These events exposed more than weakness. They revealed a deeper fracture. The illusion of control—once preserved in pageantry and position—fell apart. The world saw it. The papacy stood on ground it could no longer defend.
Trent and the Defense of the Center
Paul III convened the Council of Trent in 1545. The decades before the council brought collapse. Paul opened the council with resolve. He sought renewal. He also sought structure. Rome needed a foundation it could explain and enforce. The Council delivered it.
Trent declared justification as a process involving the sacraments, penance, renewal, and moral formation. Faith played a role, but righteousness came through sustained participation in the Church. Justification occurred through grace that cooperated with obedience. The Church stood as guardian and distributor through is sacramental system.
The Council produced systems: seminaries to train, the Index to define, the Inquisition to enforce, and the Society of Jesus to instruct. Rome restored its voice through precision and discipline. The Protestant Reformation proclaimed Christ alone. The Council of Trent reasserted the Church as the one true steward of God’s grace.
The Roman Catholic Response in Its Own Words
Rome’s resistance came through conviction, history, theology, and sincere concern. To name a few:
Cardinal Jacopo Sadoleto wrote to the city of Geneva in 1539. He appealed for order, unity, and return. He grieved the fracture and warned of danger outside the Church’s care. For Sadoleto, righteousness flowed through fidelity to the visible Church and its long-held truth. His language carried sorrow and weight. He feared that confidence in doctrine alone would unmoor faith from discipline.
Cajetan, who met Luther in Augsburg, focused on the authority of the Church to interpret Scripture and safeguard grace. He affirmed that justification must involve interior transformation through sacramental grace. He defended the balance of faith and obedience as necessary for righteousness. For Cajetan, the Reformers threatened clarity, stability, and ecclesial order.
Gasparo Contarini expressed hope for reform. He listened closely to Protestant concerns. He called the Church to repentance. At the same time, he remained convinced that God had entrusted the Roman Church with stewardship, and that renewal could come from within. His tone invited dialogue, but his loyalty stayed firm.
Robert Bellarmine, the chief theological architect of post-Tridentine Catholicism, articulated justification as the inward transformation of the soul. He taught that God’s grace infused righteousness into the believer, and that faith must cooperate with this grace. He built a systematic vision where the Church mediated God’s renewing power and preserved both truth and practice across generations.
These voices deserve careful attention. They spoke from conviction, training, and genuine concern for the Church and the world. But in each response, the structure held the same core of the presumptive position: the Church remained the necessary center through which righteousness must pass.
Faith Alone and the Rebuttal of the Reformers
The Reformers did not introduce a new doctrine. They returned to the gospel. They preached Christ—received by faith alone, apart from structure, office, or human mediation.
Each Roman Catholic response to justification by faith alone revealed a position committed to preserving what had already been defined and defended.
Justification by faith alone removes every foundation that stands apart from Christ. It exposes the systems we construct, the confidence we carry, and the power we attempt to hold. It gives Christ—and in giving Him, it re-centers everything.
Sadoleto appealed to order, tradition, and moral continuity. Calvin answered: unity without Christ cannot hold. Justification by faith alone provides the only ground strong enough for fellowship. Calvin invited him to return—not to Geneva’s discipline, but to Christ’s righteousness.
Cajetan defended the Church’s interpretive role. Luther returned to the Scriptures. He found righteousness already revealed, already secured in Christ. He placed confidence in the Word of God—already spoken, already clear, already powerful to save.
Contarini longed for renewal. The Reformers pointed to the gospel. They believed healing begins not with adjustment, but with a faith return to Christ. Christ gives grace fully, not through stages, but through Himself. From that ground, the Church becomes holy.
Bellarmine constructed a vision of righteousness that required growth and cooperation. The Reformers affirmed the fruit of holiness, but pointed to the root: Christ’s righteousness already given. Justification is not a process—it is the once-for-all-time finished work of Christ imputed to us through faith alone. From that gift, sanctification flows.
Beneath each Roman Catholic response, the Reformers recognized the same presumptive position. It begins with the belief: “I already know. I already understand. Therefore, I must correct, enforce, or build.” This is the presumptive position. It resists surrender. It places trust in knowledge, systems, and heritage. It offers order, but not rest.
Justification by faith alone replaces that position. It offers Christ. Faith is the Spirit-given appropriating of Christ—His righteousness, His death, His resurrection, His obedience, and His reign. Faith brings nothing, earns nothing, and adds nothing. It receives everything.
This is the gospel the Reformers reclaimed. They did not dismantle the Church—they re-centered it. They did not weaken doctrine—they returned it to Christ. They did not divide the people of God—they called them home. Justification by faith alone still does all of this. It dethrones every other ground. And it places Christ in the center.
V. Kings, Crowns, and the Presumptive Position of Christendom
In reading about Charles V, Maximilian II, Philip II, François I, and Henry VIII, I began to recognize something familiar. Each ruler stood on the same ground I had seen in the Roman Catholic Church—and in myself. Each one governed from the presumptive position: “I already understand. I already know. I must protect, enforce, or preserve what is right.”
They acted with confidence. They wore the weight of divine calling and inheritance. They built systems to secure righteousness, order, and peace. They expected that through strength, insight, or restraint, they could uphold what God had entrusted.
Christ revealed a different foundation. His kingdom arrived by faith. His righteousness came as a gift. His verdict freed those who surrendered. And when He stood revealed, every other ground shifted beneath them.
Charles V: The Emperor Who Lost the Center
Charles of Habsburg ruled over the most expansive empire in Europe since the Caesars. By age twenty-seven, he carried the burden of Spain, Austria, Burgundy, the Low Countries, Naples, and the Americas. People described him as “lord of the world.” He spoke German to his horse, French to his ministers, and Spanish to his God. He bore the title Caesar as naturally as the crown.
The world saw him as the protector of Christendom. He believed his task was to guard the Church and unify the world under one confession. The hope of Rome and the weight of empire rested on his shoulders.
In 1521, Charles presided over the Diet of Worms. Cardinals, bishops, princes, electors, and papal representatives filled the chamber. The issue was Luther—and whether he would recant his writings. Charles sat in judgment. The Church stood beside him. The gospel stood in front of him.
Martin Luther asked for time. He spent the night in prayer. Then Luther stood and spoke:
“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 recant anything, since it is neither safe nor right to go against conscience. Here I stand, I can do no other. God help me. Amen.”
Luther placed every throne, altar, and council beneath the Word of God. His stand brought the entire order of Church and empire under the authority of Christ. That moment revealed what each side carried. One man stood in weakness, surrendered by faith. The others stood in strength, secured by power.
Charles condemned Luther and issued the Edict of Worms. But the foundation had shifted. The gospel advanced, and every structure it passed through stood exposed.
In 1555, the Peace of Augsburg gave religious authority to local princes. Charles stepped back. He abdicated the following year and entered a monastery. His strength failed. His vision faded. His departure mirrored another. In 1527, Pope Clement VII fled Rome in disguise after imperial troops sacked the city. He left behind the ruins of Church authority. Charles now left behind him the ruins of empire. Each one had stood at the center. Each one had resisted surrender. Each one departed from a position completely broken because he could stand in the presumptive position of Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his shoulder.
It is very costly to be God. It cost Christ His life on the cross. And now Christ still stands where both once ruled.
Maximilian II: The Emperor Who Delayed
Maximilian ruled during a time of deep division. He valued patience and conversation. He read Acontius and followed the humanist belief that unity could emerge through reason. He believed Christians should set aside conflict and focus on shared values. When asked whether he was Catholic or Protestant, he answered, “I am a Christian.” For Maximilian, harmony mattered more than confession.
But this desire came from the presumptive position: “We already understand the truth that unites us. Now we must correct others while holding it together.” He trusted peace would come through moderation, restraint, and moral balance. Even on his deathbed, he declined the Mass and retained both Catholic structures and Protestant influence.
The faith position begins somewhere else. It does not build unity—it receives it. The gospel joins the believer to the eternal unity of the Father, Son, and Spirit. Their peace has no fracture, their purpose no rivalry, their love no pride. Paul writes, “We have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ… and God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit” (Romans 5:1, 5). This is the unity we receive by faith.
Philip II: The Monarch of Preservation by Force
Philip ruled through alignment and enforcement. He expanded the Jesuits, supported the Inquisition, and governed through Rome’s decrees. His rule imposed uniformity. His vision joined crown and altar in shared authority.
He suppressed revolts, launched campaigns, and guarded borders. He preserved order with certainty.
Christ gave righteousness apart from rule. His peace came through surrender. His power worked through the Spirit, not strategy. Philip extended law. Christ extended Himself.
François I: The Balance of Strength and Image
François embraced Renaissance learning. He supported translators, welcomed reformers, and projected tolerance. He governed with sophistication and adjusted posture with care.
After the Placard Affair in 1534—when anti-Catholic posters appeared across France, including one nailed to the king’s chamber door—François turned sharply. He punished dissent and reaffirmed Rome’s place in France.
He preserved appearance. He adjusted tone. His confidence in himself remained. Christ offered peace to those who surrender. François secured power through the illusion of elegance.
Henry VIII: The Presumptive Position Reformed
Henry received recognition from Rome for defending the Church’s doctrine. When his request for annulment failed, he separated from Rome and declared himself head of the Church of England.
He preserved sacraments, restructured the clergy, and retained control. He punished resistance and enforced conformity. His reforms protected the throne. His structure preserved the presumptive position.
Christ gave righteousness through union. Faith received what power could never offer. Henry replaced one hierarchy with another. Christ replaced every hierarchy with Himself.
The Kingdoms of Man and the Reign of Christ
Each ruler governed from the same ground. Each one stood with confidence in his understanding, role, and responsibility. Each believed truth required protection, unity required enforcement, and righteousness required alignment.
Christ revealed another kingdom. His verdict brought peace through surrender. His righteousness came through faith. His rule formed the Church apart from man-centered authorities, systems, swords, or structures.
Justification by faith alone ensured that Christ alone stood at the center. Each ruler resisted that change. Each one grasped what Christ exposed. But Christ’s reign moved forward. And each crown, one by one, fell and continues to fall.
VI. The Rebuilding of Power: The Radical Reformation, Protestant Liberalism, and Scientific Imperialism
A Collapsing Center and the Desire to Rebuild
The Holy Roman Church and the Holy Roman Empire once stood at the center of Christendom. The Church claimed authority through sacrament and succession. The Empire ruled with divine sanction through sword and crown.
Together they formed a system that promised order and obedience. When that system broke open, the impulse to rebuild remained. Some returned to Christ. Others continued forward on that same presumptive position—flesh-powered independence, shaped by confidence in the self.
The presumptive position endured through councils, crowns, and reforms. It spoke with conviction. It promised clarity. The word grace remained in vocabulary and practice, but the burden of power continued to rest on the self.
The Radical Reformation and the Presumptive Position
The Radical Reformers challenged the Reformers for stopping short. They rejected the connection between church and state. They refused infant baptism. They called for visible discipleship, gathered communities, and public separation from the world. Their concerns touched real issues. But the way they moved revealed the ground they stood on.
The Reformers and the Roman Church both opposed them. Some of the Radical Reformers rejected all order and structure. Some claimed immediate spiritual authority. Others picked up weapons. The movement fractured. It multiplied new sects and carried real violence. These outcomes exposed the presumptive position: “We already know, we already understand, and now we must correct, build, or enforce.”
This is the same ground that shaped the fall. It looks like reform. It speaks the language of zeal. But the position begins with the self and turns away from the gospel. This is rebellion from God’s perspective.
The faith position depends on Christ. Jesus saves His people out of the world. He joins them to Himself. Then He sends them into the world with the grace they live by. The Christian walks in peace. The gospel keeps repentance open. The fruit grows in season. The glory belongs to Christ.
Protestant Liberalism and the Return to Moral Power
Protestant Liberalism emerged during the Enlightenment. Its leaders sought to rescue Christianity from what they saw as outdated doctrine and supernatural claims.
Friedrich Schleiermacher replaced truth with religious feeling. Albrecht Ritschl reframed the gospel around ethics and culture. Adolf von Harnack reduced Christianity to the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man. Harry Emerson Fosdick preached moral uplift without the cross. Rudolf Bultmann removed the miraculous to make space for modern belief.
Each one moved forward on the presumptive position: to correct what had come before and to reshape the Church for a new world. The cross remained in the sentence, but its meaning changed. The resurrection became symbol. The gospel became values. This was the presumptive position: “We already know, we already understand, and now we must correct, build, or enforce.”
Justification no longer stood at the center. Churches turned toward moral education and public service. Sermons emphasized action, character, and social concern. Christ became an example. The Word became a guide. The voice still used gospel language. The ground shifted from Christ-dependence by faith to self-dependence by presumption.
Some tried to recover Christianity for a modern world. They believed the Church needed to move forward. They spoke of relevance, clarity, and renewal. They used Scripture to support human dignity and social responsibility. They preached Christ and called people to live with conviction. They invited growth, service, and meaning. But the purpose they named returned the listener to the self. The message asked for movement without surrender. The power behind the invitation relied on strength that did not come from Christ.
The faith position begins with Christ. God gives His Son. The Spirit joins the believer to Him. Grace shapes the soul. Peace leads to obedience. Repentance stays open. Fruit grows in season.
The presumptive position continues to build on self. It multiplies language, strategy, and movement. The name of Christ remains visible, but the source of power belongs to the man.
Some within that tradition turned back. Karl Barth rejected the moralism and religious subjectivism that emptied the gospel of power. He returned to the language of Scripture and placed Christ at the center of his theology. But the foundation beneath his work remained unsettled.
Barth redefined revelation without anchoring it in the written Word. He spoke of grace without resting it in justification by faith. He aimed to correct Protestant Liberalism, but he never returned to the ground of the gospel. His theology left the sinner without a verdict and the Church without a clear Word.
Scientific Imperialism and the New Babel
When the monarchies fractured and papal power declined, a new kind of center rose to take their place. Scientific imperialism offered a global language, a governing method, and a promise of progress. Rulers had once claimed divine right. Scientists now claimed universal reason. The empire shifted. The presumptive position stayed the same.
This new Babel came with formulas and forecasts. It measured the world, structured the city, and explained the soul. Psychology replaced pastoral care. Sociology redefined community. Biology and physics mapped creation. Scientific systems became the framework for education, law, medicine, and even religion. Data and design replaced mystery. Expertise replaced dependence. Babel rose again.
Churches moved in different directions. Some trusted new systems and used scientific language to guide their ministries. Some held on to older forms and patterns. Others returned again to Christ. They received what Christ had given, what He had promised, and what He had already done.
Each response revealed the ground beneath. Some moved forward from a presumptive position of independence, drawing strength from the self. Others received grace and acted in dependence, resting by faith on Christ.
The faith position joins the believer to Christ. The Word gives light. The Spirit gives wisdom. Fruit grows from union. Peace follows surrender. Glory returns to God.
The presumptive position holds the self in the center. It uses strength to manage life. It treats Scripture as instruction for control. It offers action without trust. It builds a life that no longer depends on Christ.
The gospel holds through every generation. The tree still stands beside living water. The root stays green. The fruit comes in season. And the Lord sees the ground.
The faith position receives Christ, and faith alone keeps Him at the center. This is where we return as we move forward.
VII. From Power to Surrender: Jack Miller, Warren Farrell, and the Desire to Be in Control
Warren Farrell and the Feminist Movement
Jack Miller, in his talk on “The Primacy of Faith,” referenced a book called The Liberated Man by Warren Farrell. Farrell had worked closely with the feminist movement. He helped shape its message in the early years and became a trusted voice among women who wanted men to change—through honesty and humility rather than performance or power.
Farrell encouraged men to become emotionally open and relationally present. He spoke about men learning to feel, to listen, and to lead with love instead of fear or withdrawal.
Feminist leaders embraced this message. They saw Farrell as someone who understood what they were asking for and could say it in a way men might receive. Jack explained this with clarity and fairness. He described Farrell as a thoughtful man who had written a thoughtful book.
In his comprehensive research, Farrell pressed beyond surface questions. He believed that direct answers often carried social pressure. So he studied over 100,000 interviews. He examined advertising. He looked at what men admired, laughed at, purchased, and trusted. He compared what people said to what they followed.
After reviewing all the data, Farrell reached a conclusion that “stunned” him. He said both men and women want they same thing. They both want more power and control over their own lives.
Jack quoted that line to a room of pastors and elders. Then he paused.
What Farrell Found and Jack Saw
Jack said the stereotype had always been simple: men want sex, women want relationship. That idea shaped marriage advice and cultural messaging. But Farrell’s research pointed elsewhere.
Farrell found that men also longed for relationship. They wanted closeness, connection, and peace at home. Jack said the difference between men and women started to disappear once you got underneath. He said, “When you get underneath, you find people that just want to be loved.”
Jack added this: people often try to get love through their own strength. They carry fear, anger, and tension. And they build lives that make love harder to receive. He said this applies to everyone—including himself and the leaders in the room.
Farrell’s research uncovered the ache under the ache. Jack gave it a name. He called it the presumptive position.
The Presumptive Position
The presumptive position begins with this belief: “I already understand.” From there, it says, “I already know what needs to happen.” And then it says, “Now I will act.”
This presumptive position can form within movements, marriages, ministries, and ordinary conversation. It grows from a sense of responsibility and clarity. But it builds from the self.
Jack used feminism as an example—not to discredit it, but to show how clearly this structure can take hold. The feminist movement responded to real hurt and injustice. It gave language to pain. It created space for honesty. Farrell joined the movement because he believed in those goals.
Jack pointed to the ground beneath those goals. He said feminism and patriarchy often grow from the same desire: to take charge of life. One resists control. The other preserves control. Both begin at heart with seeking to remain in charge.
Jack saw this in his own leadership. He had spoken about grace while operating under pressure. He had preached about peace while managing through urgency. He had led churches while avoiding surrender. He had lived from the same ground he was describing.
He called this kind of life a fantasy. Not imagination, but strategy—a system built on self-generated peace. A person says, “If I lead well enough, things will work. If I explain clearly enough, people will listen. If I love hard enough, people will love me back.” That kind of leadership sounds brave. But when it breaks down, it reveals the presumptive position underneath.
What This Means for Leaders
Jack told these stories to church leaders because he believed this was their shared burden.
Many pastors were not only preaching the gospel but trying to hold their lives and churches together. They felt pressure to restore marriages, guide families, and manage congregations. That pressure often led them to speak and act from their own strength.
Jack described men who led confidently in public and felt powerless in their homes. They organized ministries, taught theology, and kept their churches moving—but they could not rest and had lost their own joy of salvation.
Jack had lived that same life. He named it gently, but without avoiding its truth.
Farrell helped Jack see the pattern through the lens of the feminist movement. Both men and women want to control their lives.
That desire shapes culture. It shapes movements. It shapes churches. And it shaped Jack’s own story.
The Only Ground That Holds
Jack said the presumptive position speaks across all movements. It shows up whenever someone says, “We already see. We already understand. And now we must act.”
That sentence can come from a protest or a pulpit, from a public campaign or a private conversation. Jack began with feminism, but he did not stop there.
He said this same ground shapes today’s major movements.
Some speak of gender identity and LGBTQ+ experience.
Some defend abortion or advocate bodily autonomy.
Some rise from the sexual revolution and its rejection of covenant marriage.
Some build from Christian nationalism or theonomy.
Some focus on reparations, racial repair, or systemic justice.
Some rally around homeschooling, purity, or family culture.
Some organize around ministry platforms, denominational traditions, or seminary systems.
Each hold deep convictions. Each give language to real experience. Each proposes change. But Jack said the position on which we stand matters more than the message we want to share or the method we use to do so, because “Whatever does not proceed from faith is sin” (Rom. 14:23) no matter what it is.
The presumptive position says, “We already know, we already understand, and now we must correct, build, or enforce.”
The presumptive position begins with confidence in the self and moves forward without prayer in the Spirit that receives from Christ through faith.
Jack had lived from that position. He had built from it. He had seen the results. And he called his listeners to return to the only ground that holds: the gospel of Christ received through faith.
He called this the faith position. Faith appropriates Christ. It receives everything in Him—righteousness, peace, adoption, power, and love—and depends on His finished work rather than its own strength.
This faith position forms a posture marked by righteousness, peace, rest, and joy in the Holy Spirit (Rom. 14:17) that is already ours in Christ.
Jack ended his talk with one sentence: “Jesus is Lord, and where the Lord is trusted, peace will follow.”
IX. Conclusion: Justification by Faith Alone and the Unmasking of the Presumptive Position
The Gospel Belongs to God
This gospel begins with God, flows through Christ, and is applied by the Holy Spirit. The Father sends the Son to save. The Son gives His life to redeem. The Spirit delights in preaching Christ to the heart—again and again—because Christ is the gospel, and the gospel is Christ.
Jack Miller described this gospel in four simple ways:
- The Gospel Facts: The gospel announces what God has done in Christ—His death, resurrection, and reign.
- The Gospel Promise: The gospel comes as a promise of the Father’s love to sinners.
- The Gospel’s Power: The gospel gives a new standing before God and fills the heart with the Spirit.
- The Gospel Preached: The gospel is a message. It is spoken, heard, and received. Faith comes by hearing the word of Christ (Romans 10:17).
Jack used A New Life booklet as both a revival and a renewal tool.
The gospel awakens the lost and holds the believer every day in Christ. It creates faith. It deepens faith. It keeps Christ at the center. And this gospel comes with power because God Himself speaks it.
The Gospel Is for Christians Also
For years, I believed the gospel was something I had already received. I collected sins but had nowhere to take them. I tried to grow by insight, effort, or clarity, but the burden kept growing.
Then I heard Jack say, “The gospel is for Christians.” And it was like being born again again.
Romans 1:15 says Paul was eager to preach the gospel in Rome—to Christians.
That sentence turned my understanding upside down. But it wasn’t just one verse. As I have preached through Romans for the last year, I began to see that Paul preaches the gospel in every chapter. Every new situation draws him back to Christ.
He does not accuse their faith. He announces the gospel again. And that message—repeated, applied, unfolded—realigns believers with Christ again and again.
The Presumptive Position Lives Underneath Everything
The presumptive position says, “I already know. I already understand. Now I must correct, build, or enforce.”
The presumptive position takes form in every kind of heart and every kind of system. And it appears even when we believe we are standing for truth. This position may sound faithful. It may look sincere. But it rises from confidence in the self.
I have learned this most deeply from the letter to the Romans. Paul traces the presumptive position through religious leaders, Gentile philosophers, cultural divides, spiritual traditions, and personal stories. He exposes it in his own life. And he never separates his diagnosis from his message. He keeps returning to the gospel.
Because only the gospel removes the fantasy and illusion of control. Only the gospel brings the righteousness of God to the sinner. And only the gospel returns the heart to faith.
The Gospel Dethrones Every Other Authority
The gospel does not compete with man’s strength. The gospel replaces it with the strength of Christ. Justification by faith alone restores Christ to the center of every life and every church. It gives the verdict of God now—righteous in Christ, accepted in Christ, loved in Christ. From that verdict, everything else flows.
Jack said: “If you owned Montgomery County, you’d be wealthy. If you owned Pennsylvania, you’d be richer still. But if the Lord is your portion, you are the richest of all.”
This is the peace of faith. You surrender—and you receive everything.
This kind of faith opens the door for pastors to lead in repentance. Jack said pastors are the chief repenters in the Church. That call has shaped me.
But I’ve also seen how easy it is to turn that call to honesty about my sins into a new work of authenticity used to hide greater sins behind lesser sins, to win applause, to manipulate listeners, or to present false humility that counterfeits faith.
Leaders can confuse posture for position. We may carry visible repentance before others while still standing on the presumptive self.
True gospel leadership begins on the ground of faith. The pastor depends on Christ. He returns visibly, not to be seen, but because he sees Christ again. And sharing that return to Christ in tears gives others room to return to the cross with their leader.
The Gospel Exposes and Heals Every Presumption
Paul was not the only apostle shaped by the gospel this way. Peter carried many presumptive positions—spoken convictions, bold action, real belief. But again and again, Christ unseated Peter’s confidence and gave him Himself. The same gospel holds the whole Church.
Faith does not flatten people. It does not erase their voice or their calling. It restores them to Christ.
From the faith position, convictions become rooted in peace. Disagreements take shape in love. And repentance becomes a shared return to Christ as we celebrate our differences and learn from one another how to keep in step with the truth of the gospel and walk together in line with the Spirit.
Jeremiah 17 speaks of a tree planted beside water. Its roots reach the stream. Its leaves stay green. Its fruit grows in season. The tree receives what it needs—and from that receiving, life flows outward.
That is the picture of the Christian. That is the shape of the Church.
The faith position:
Faith appropriates Christ. It receives everything in Him—righteousness, peace, adoption, strength, and rest—and lives in union with the One who gives all of Himself.
The presumptive position:
“I already know. I already understand. And now I must correct, build, or enforce.” This position rises from the self and continues without receiving Christ.
Have We Fulfilled the Thesis?
We began with this claim:
Justification by faith alone dethrones every man-centered system by exposing the illusion of control and restoring Christ to the center. The presumptive position—“I already know, I already understand”—stands beneath every power structure that avoids surrender. Faith alone receives Christ alone. And that receiving displaces the self.
This is what we’ve seen in every section. From Scripture, history, theology, culture, and the personal life of faith, we have traced the way the presumption position takes root and rises—and how the gospel answers it.
Faith appropriates Christ. And Justification by faith alone holds Him at the center enabling us to maintain our spiritual power and freedom in Christ.
We don’t have go looking for adverbs or question whether James and Paul agree. They do!
Faith alone simply means and ensures that God’s salvation— beginning to end— is always Christ alone.
To God be the glory! ��
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