Something that has at times confused me is how we can reconcile our total depravity apart from God with the real fact of there existing works which seem good amongst those who do not believe. On the one hand there are clear Biblical statements such as that nobody is righteous, that nobody seeks after God (Romans 3:10-11), that the heart of man is desperately wicked (Jeremiah 17:9), that the intention of man’s heart is evil from from his youth (Gen 8:21), and that the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God and cannot submit to God’s law (Romans 8:7). On the other hand, there is the evidence we see around us of people apart from God achieving things that do benefit others, and showing civilised restraint in the avoidance of sin.

How do we square what the Bible says about depravity with what our personal experience says about the merit of our fellow men?

I’m going to discuss this in three parts, the first being within this post:

Some of the important questions I hope to answer include:

  • How can we account for good being done by atheists and those of other religions without concluding that fallen man has intrinsic righteousness, ability and will to do good?

  • Do all good works originate in God?
  • How does God achieve good ends in and despite the sinful rebellion of unbelieving men?

By the conclusion, I hope to have demonstrated that the doctrine of depravity does not contradict our experience and observations but rather that our experience and observations support and help validate the doctrine of depravity. It will be shown that the knowledge of mankind that we term our experience testifies to the depravity of mankind, and that the nature, means and motivation of works performed apart from God are illustrative of that.

Good works, evil, and sin in the absence of faith, and the inability of man apart from God to do good works

The first and most important point which I will discuss in this part is the proper distinction between authoring a good work, and authoring a work which produces a good effect. These I will term intrinsically good works and extrinsically good works respectively. In the former case, a man determines to undertake a work with the sole object of good; in the latter case, a man determines to undertake a work with the object of addressing pride, selfish desire or guilt and the effects of that work contain some aspect of good.

This distinction may be seen most clearly in Matthew 6, although it may be found elsewhere. Christ here shows the hypocrisy of those who do good but not in order that good be done but for their own selfish motives. We are instructed to “Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven; Thus, when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward” (Matthew 6:1-2).

Although we understand this well from the perspective of faith, yet as we are presently discussing works in the absence of faith, a new question arises – whether the giving to the needy by the hypocrites was a good work, or whether it was not. That the needy received that which they wanted for seems clear, for both the instructed and the condemned are presumed to perform the same act of giving. This is, in the sight of man, a good thing. It would take a very cold heart to say that for the hungry to be fed and the naked to be clothed is a bad and an evil work.

So, why does Christ condemn the hypocrites? They have brought about the same level of benefit to those in need, and perhaps even more. After all, is this not the same Christ who exalts the works of those who have done these very things (Matthew 25:34-40) and condemns those who have failed in doing so (Matthew 25:41-46)? The ends, so we are told by the wisdom of our age, justify the means. What we must realise is that Christ does not condemn the work, but the hypocrites. Christ does not condemn the poor being given to in their need, but he does condemn the motivation of the hypocrites as they set out to do so. Here then is an extrinsically good work, one which by outward measure brings good, but by inward measure is driven by pride, vainglory and a selfish desire for praise in the eyes of man. The hypocrites did not give in order to do good, but in order that others would judge their act as good and so be increased in public estimation.

Where is the sin, where is the evil, where is the wicked work, and where is the good work? The sin is on the part of the hypocrite, for despite the opportunity to do good to the glory of God he performed an act extrinsically good to his own glory; the evil is in the heart of the hypocrite, for he sought to make himself the author of good works in the eyes of man, taking the place of God himself; the wicked work is in his performance of the act in order to be seen, a wicked work by a wicked man; and so the good work then springs in no way from the desire or merit of the hypocrite to perform good, but is attributable solely to the unseen design of God. The honour, praise and glory here belong only to God himself – in no way can we attribute merit, righteousness or authorship of good to the hypocrite.

It is perhaps worthwhile to re-read the words of the righteous in Matthew 25:37 “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink?…”, and note the ignorance that they display of their own good works. Some suggest that the righteous are unaware that in serving their neighbour they serve Christ, yet to me this seems contrived, for such a teaching is set out frequently in both testaments. Whilst at this point it is postulation, it appears likely that indeed they “[did] not let [their] left hand know what [their] right hand [was] doing” (Matthew 6:3), and as they were conformed to the Christ through the Spirit they brought about “good works, which God prepared beforehand, that [they] should walk in them” (Ephesians 2:10) – this not being their self-righteous design to gain merit through works but the quickening sanctification of the Spirit himself.

The distinction here is perhaps well expressed in an imperfect summary; that there are some who for some cause set out to do good works and so perform them when the opportunity arises, but there are others who when the opportunity arises perform good works ‘automatically’ (which is, in fact, due to sanctification). I do not imagine that Christ decided he wanted to do good works, but rather than when presented with human need and suffering, it was his nature to help; and so, as we are conformed to Christ through the spirit, it becomes our nature that our faith is manifested in good works by the spirit, rather than that we decide to attempt works for our own self-righteousness.

Yet, there are those without faith who quietly perform works, who avoid the snare that caught the hypocrites. What do we say of these? Are these works good works? In the same way as we have seen the evil in the hypocrites by looking not to the effect but to the motivation, we should try to assess the reasons that a man might do extrinsically good works quietly or in secret.

First, there is selfish empathy. Now, empathy is a very powerful emotion and characteristic of much that we see as good in humanity; but at its root is selfishness. This, I realise, seems rather cold and mean-spirited, but it is important that we get to the heart of the matter.

When a man sees another man suffering and experiences empathy, he imagines himself in the position of the other, and thinks to himself how he might feel and how he might suffer. He reasons within himself that such feelings and sufferings would be terrible, painful and intolerable and this brings about fear within him – an entirely natural fear – that what has happened to this man (or something similar) might one day happen to him or his family, and that nobody would help.

It offends our concept of right and wrong primarily because we see a level of wrong committed that we fear being subjected to ourselves. When empathy prompts us to seek to help the other, we rationalise that we wish to ‘make the world a fairer place’ or to ‘improve social safety nets’ etc. and indeed that is what we may do, but from the beginning it is motivated by our selfish wish to have a fairer world and social safety nets for ourselves, for this is the root of the emotion of empathy – putting yourself in the place of the other, thinking about how bad it would be for you to be there, and so setting out to put in an escape ladder should you one day arrive there. We see just this in countries with more developed forms of social security, for those who agitated for such systems become quiet and content once they reach a level at which they feel reasonable safeguards are in place – they do not continue with the same zeal to do good – for doing good in itself was never their aim.

Second, there is self-righteous vainglory. This seems to come quite naturally to all men, and is characterised by our selfish wish to think well of ourselves. From infancy, we love to be praised and have our ‘self confidence’ built up, and this is proper that we be so encouraged; yet, over time external affirmation gives way to our internal self-praise and self-congratulation. It is a difficult thing indeed for a man to look on himself as essentially evil and wicked, which should be clear by considering any number of military dictators who despite committing the most heinous of crimes and abuses constantly seek ways to justify their acts to themselves. This pride in our own self-righteousness and vainglory manifests itself in many ways; one of which is the urge to compensate for our deficiencies. Being aware of our failings in some aspect, it is quite usual for our wounded pride to ache for a cause of self-celebration, something we can obtain quite readily by setting out to do some good work. Consider the adulterous husband who tries to be particularly nice to his wife – not for her benefit – but because he wishes to patch up his wounded self-righteousness. This of course is the root of false or emotional guilt; for in so much as it is due to an injured pride it is not due to recognising our failings before Almighty God (which is not to say that God’s natural law doesn’t influence in some part the measurement of self image). The end is (usually) good which would not have come about otherwise, but yet the motivation is self-righteous vainglory and so it is yet again only extrinsically good and not intrinsically good. If the person were to judge himself as fully self-righteous again and with an intact pride such that he felt the superior of his peers, he would cease in his wish to do more good – for doing good was never his aim.

Third, there is fear. There is a form of fear of condemnation which drives a man to come to terms with his own failings, and this is in some ways shaped by his religious beliefs. In some religions, he will be presented with a high example to follow in order to ascend to heaven and achieve enlightenment, in others with a karma-like concept in which good must be done to cancel out or balance bad – with consequences in this life of that to come. As he becomes aware of his failings, he starts to worry about the consequences of his defects. Being apart from the Gospel, if he does not abandon all hope, he will seek to meet the required standard through works of merit and charity. His acts then are selfish, for they are motivated by a desire to improve his own standing and so avoid the consequences of his past sins. On one level, such logic seems reasonable, but only where the depravity of man is not fully appreciated; on another level, this is little more than self-righteous vain-glory, for the aim is to build up his assessment of his own righteousness and not to see to it that good is done. That much good is done because of such fears is undeniable, but because the root motivation for the action is self-centered and for one’s own benefit, it is extrinsically good but not intrinsically good. If the person were told that he had fulfilled all the required merit to cancel his past sins, he would cease to be motivated to do further good – for doing good was never his aim.

So, it becomes clear that when a man apart from faith appears to be motivated to do good, at the root is not a wish to do good, but some form of self-serving or selfish aim. Whether his wish is to build himself up before his peers, before his god(s), or before his own self image the judgement is the same – that he did not wish to do good but merely did works that brought about the effect of good in serving his own selfish lusts. On what basis then can God be expected to declare these works good works if they are motivated by evil and not by good? Truly, good proceeded from them, but the author of the good was not the author of the work.

In the next part of this series, I will discuss how it is possible that a sinful act can produce good, how the author of an act and the author of its effect can be different, and share some passages from the Bible which talk about a similar concept. In the final part, I will develop examples of the way in which God restrains us in our sin apart from faith, that is – how God so arranges it that despite us being wicked and entirely affected by sin we do not cause to pass as great an evil as we possibly could.

Do you agree with what I’ve set out about the motivation of works which, on the surface, appear to be good works? What’s your experience been of those who do not have faith? I’d love to hear your comments on this, and the coming parts in due course.

Part Two

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