The Paradox of Righteousness: Why Trying Harder Might Be Missing the Point

There's something deeply counterintuitive at the heart of Christian faith that our minds naturally resist. We live in a world where effort equals results, where good behavior earns rewards, where keeping the rules keeps us safe. And yet, when it comes to standing before God, this entire framework collapses.
Consider for a moment what it means to be justified—to be declared innocent in a courtroom. We can picture the scene: evidence presented, arguments made, the jury deliberating. Finally, the verdict: "We find the defendant not guilty." That declaration changes everything.
But here's where our courtroom analogy breaks down. The Bible tells us we've already been tried. The evidence is in. We're guilty. Every single one of us. And we're not waiting for a verdict—we're waiting for sentencing.
Unless something radical happens.
The Great Exchange
In Galatians 2:15-21, we encounter one of the most concentrated expressions of the gospel in all of Scripture. Paul writes with urgency, circling back again and again to the same truth because it's that important, that easily forgotten, that prone to distortion.
He writes: "We know that a person is not justified by works of the law, but through faith in Jesus Christ."
Notice the structure: negation, then affirmation. Not this, but this. Paul does this repeatedly because he knows how quickly we drift back to self-reliance. He negates, affirms, negates again, and then negates once more for good measure. It's like he's driving a nail through wood—and the regulator is set too high, so the nail disappears completely into the board.
The message is clear: salvation comes through faith in Jesus Christ alone. Not faith plus good behavior. Not faith plus religious observance. Not faith plus trying really hard. Just faith.
The Shocking Irony of Legalism
But Paul goes further with an argument that might shock us. He says that if we try to rebuild what we've torn down—if we attempt to justify ourselves through law-keeping—we actually prove ourselves to be transgressors. Lawbreakers.
Read that again slowly. The person who tries to obey the law as a means of salvation is, paradoxically, being lawless.
How can this be? Because God doesn't grade on a curve. The standard isn't "pretty good"—it's absolutely perfect. And since no one can achieve that perfection through their own efforts, attempting to do so is an exercise in futility. Worse, it's an act of rebellion against God's appointed means of salvation.
Think about the sacrificial system in the Old Testament. Its very existence communicated a message: you cannot obey perfectly. You need a substitute. The entire system was designed to point forward to the only one who could obey perfectly—Jesus Christ.
Death as the Path to Life
Then Paul makes another paradoxical statement: "Through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God."
To live to God, we must die to the law. We must die to any attempt to offer our obedience as a means of salvation. This isn't about lowering moral standards or excusing sin—it's about recognizing where salvation actually comes from.
And then comes verse 20, one of the most beautiful statements of Christian identity ever penned: "I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."
This is union with Christ. This is what it means to be a Christian—not just to know facts about Jesus, not just to believe He existed, but to be united with Him, to have your identity bound up in His.
When you trust in Christ, you are crucified with Him. Your old self dies. And then you are raised with Him to new life. Christ lives in you. His righteousness becomes yours. His perfection covers your imperfection.
The Most Devious Sin
Of all the sins Paul addresses in Galatians, self-righteousness might be the worst. Why? Because it masquerades as obedience. It looks good on the surface. It can make you appear better than everyone else.
But it's devious and damnable because it blinds the person to its presence. You can be drowning in self-righteousness and not even know it. It stops up your ears, hardens your heart, and keeps you from receiving the Savior of grace.
This is why Jesus constantly clashed with the Pharisees. They refused to receive a Savior because they didn't think they needed saving. They had their law-keeping, their religious observance, their outward righteousness. And it all amounted to nothing.
Preaching the Gospel to Yourself
So what's the application? How do we live in light of this truth?
First, we must preach the gospel to ourselves every day. Write it down. Put it where you'll see it. Make it the lock screen on your phone. Simple phrases like: "Jesus loves me and gave Himself for me."
Benjamin Warfield, one of the great theologians of the 19th and early 20th century, was asked on his deathbed what was the greatest truth he discovered in all of Scripture. His answer? "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so."
Don't bypass Christ in your daily struggles. When you're battling temptation, when you're wrestling with sin, don't run to the law. Run to Christ. He has lordship over your heart. He can do things in you that you cannot do and the law certainly cannot do.
Your obedience to God doesn't earn His love—it flows from it. That might seem like a minor distinction, but it has major implications for how you live.
The Final Word
Paul ends this section with a sobering statement: "I do not nullify the grace of God, for if righteousness were through the law, then Christ died for no purpose."
If we could save ourselves through our efforts, then Jesus died for nothing. His cross was pointless. His sacrifice was an act of futility.
But we know that's not true. The cross is the power of God for salvation. It's the only means by which sinful humanity can be reconciled to a holy God.
So what needs to change in your thinking? Where have you been trying to "help Jesus out" with His saving work? Where have you been relying on your performance instead of His perfection?
The gospel is an awesome salve on the wounds we deal with in our Christian lives. The work is done. It's finished. Now we simply trust, rest, and walk in that reality.
Nothing in my hand I bring. Simply to the cross I cling.