Is God a Legalist?

A legalist is someone for whom “rules matter,” and matter a lot. Arguably, someone whose life is defined by rules: staying within them, asserting them, and expecting others to conform to them, to a point of dire consequences—breaking relationship—if they do not.

The word “rules” is closely related to the word “laws,” which shares its etymology with legalist, deriving from the Latin word lex.

It may seem self-evident that to be a legalist is a bad thing. After all, didn’t Jesus criticise the Pharisees for being legalists? How, then, can we even ask that question, Is God a Legalist?

And yet . . . when we step back for a moment, the covenant charter for Israel’s relationship with God (known as “Torah”) is comprised exclusively of laws: 248 positive ones—“do this”—and 365 negative ones —“don’t do that.” Christians even call Torah “the law”, which is technically correct, in relation to its genre, but it ends up being thought of (and deployed) as something negative.

Every evangelical knows (or thinks they know) that the gospel is a contrast between law and grace; that Judaism is all about law-keeping, while Christianity is all about grace. Or so the assumption goes (of which more anon).

Torah is sometimes spoken of as “the Law of Moses” (given that it was given to Israel through Moses). But that creates a false impression. It was never Moses’—it was always God’s. It was God-given.

In Psalm 119:97, David says, “Oh, how I love your law! I meditate on it all day long.” And he says it three more times in that psalm. Was David a legalist? Was he supposed to have been hating the law and looking to grace instead?

Does God having given Israel 613 laws as the basis of his relationship with his people make him a legalist, too?

Just to be clear: to be “in Torah” (in good standing within Torah) was the very definition of being “right with God,” “right with people,” and “doing the right thing.”

Following Torah had nothing to do with qualifying for God’s love by “works” (good deeds); being obedient to Torah was faithful people’s grateful response for knowing they were already loved. They were a “thank you,” not a “please.”

Evangelicals get this simplistic “law = bad, grace = good” polarity as a legacy of the Reformation. Luther, Calvin, and the other Reformers were standing against the legalism and corruption in the mediaeval Catholic church. In passages in Galatians and Romans, they saw a direct parallel between their circumstances vis-à-vis. the Catholicism of their day and those of Paul vis-à-vis. the Judaism of his day. No doubt the Holy Spirit used that perceived parallel to inspire the Reformers towards change. They were right in that sense.

Where they were wrong, however, was to see first-century Judaism—or indeed, the Judaism of any era—as being centred in legalism. It was always a religion of grace and faith, just as much as Christianity. God’s nature and character are consistent throughout eternity. The Reformers were right in their reforming instincts vis-à-vis the corruptions they identified in mediaeval Catholicism, but they based it on a misreading of those biblical texts (which were all to do with the relationship of Gentile Jesus-followers to Torah—the big debate in the early church, as it expanded from being an exclusively Jewish movement).

A branch of recent scholarship known initially as the “New Perspective on Paul”—which was really a new perspective on the world of first-century Judaism—but now more commonly referred to as “Paul within Judaism” (as opposed to Paul being seen as “a Christian” outside of Judaism)—has significantly disproven that old Reformation paradigm which carried with it more than a hint of theological anti-Judaism.

Many Reformed evangelicals—pastors, especially—who do not move in academic theological circles have yet to become aware of this seismic shift in understanding. Hence, much day-to-day preaching continues to reflect its assumptions.

However, many who are aware have not entirely given up on it. Not least because to do so would remove a key pillar of traditional Reformed beliefs, so there’s much to lose.

Some will concede that their forebears may have slightly misread the circumstances of first-century Judaism vis-à-vis legalistic tendencies, but will still argue it does not mean that Paul had not identified a universal human tendency towards legalism: believing that “works-righteousness” (as they call it) can get one to heaven. Paul’s core point was still right, they say, and such tendencies must have been part of at least some Jewish thinking at the time, or Paul would not have focused on it. Or so runs the new logic.

We haven’t yet come to a clear answer to our starting question. But let’s move on to Jesus’ relationship with the law—what he had to say about it (I will continue to call it “the law” in this article for simplicity’s sake, much as I generally prefer not to because of the “legalism” implications).

We don’t have space to go through all the things Jesus said, but one important passage is Matthew 5:17–19:

Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfil them. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished. Therefore, anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practises and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.

There are several key phrases here. One is that Jesus came “to fulfil” the law. This is an enigmatic phrase. Many evangelicals (most, even?) assume Jesus meant that no one before had ever managed to keep it, but he succeeded—he was the first, ever. At which point, it was “fulfilled” in the sense of “completed”—“over and done.” Like Roger Bannister running the four-minute mile. Or Edmund Hillary climbing Everest. As if it’s then consigned to history, like those milestones.

But that’s a slightly bizarre idea. First off, would God have given Torah to Israel knowing full well that no Israelite, however faithful, would ever be able to achieve it? Isn’t that rather cruel? What parent would require their child to do something that they knew to be impossible? Reformed folks might say, “God did that so they would realise that you don’t please God by (so-called) works.” But that’s a huge framework to put in place to deliver that one truth (so astonishing it hardly seems credible). Especially as God never told the Israelites that (there is no Old Testament Scripture that says anything like that). What’s more, Torah itself had provisions for failure (the sacrificial system)! Which means God foresaw that it would be the case.

Another key phrase in the passage is that although none of the law will “disappear,” that will be so only until “everything is accomplished.” Another enigmatic phrase! At what point in God’s salvific plan will everything “be accomplished”?

If we inhabit a belief world in which theological anti-Judaism reigns, we will perhaps assume everything was accomplished “at the cross” (that tends to be the evangelical view—that it’s all about the cross). Or perhaps, the resurrection and ascension as well. And therefore, Judaism basically ended at that point as a valid religion.

And yet, we know that the fullness of the Kingdom is awaiting Jesus’ return.

Surely not everything is therefore “accomplished” until the new heavens and earth of Revelation 21. Where, then, does that leave Torah in the meantime, especially for Jews, but beyond that as well? Not least given the strength of Jesus’ final words here: Whoever practises and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.

Just to be clear: the “commands” are the provisions of Torah—“the law” . . . Even if Jesus was speaking only to Jewish believers here (cf. Matt 10:6; 15:24), it still bears relevance.

Readers who are familiar with Reformed evangelical doctrine (or at least, some of its catchphrases) may at this point be recalling the concept of “not under law” (e.g., Galatians 5:18). In short, this was written to Gentile Jesus followers who were confused about the extent to which Torah applied to them. Paul’s short answer: it doesn’t, as such, because Torah is not the covenant charter for God’s relationship with Gentiles (that new covenant is through Christ directly).

Does this mean that Gentile Jesus followers (meaning most of us reading this article) are free from any biblical laws/commands (except perhaps to love God and love people)? Law-free can sound suspiciously close to lawless!

We need to remember that Jesus did not say that “love God and love people” was the only commandment. He simply said it was thegreatest and that all of the others depended on it; they were the goal for it.

It’s very easy for Christians to think “not under law” means “I can basically do what I want as a Christian, provided I love God and love people” (with me being “sole judge” of what those look like in practice).

But although that’s very convenient, since it avoids cramping our lifestyle, we can only get to that by ignoring significant chunks of Scripture in both Testaments. For example, the so-called “vice lists” in the New Testament (describing wrong attitudes and behaviours), and many, many of the things that Jesus said.

“Not under law” actually means “not under Torah.” For Christians, the equivalent to a relationship with God centred “in Torah” is one centred “in Christ” (Paul’s famous phrase, along with “Christ in you”).

A relationship with God centred in Christ means one in which the way we’re thinking and the way we’re living is wholly compatible with Christ and his presence in our life. One that is Christ-centric and Christ-like.

This, by definition, means seeking to live in accordance with everything Jesus asks of us, per his own words and those of the other New Testament writers. To do otherwise is to be guilty of lawlessness.

None of that has anything to do with legalism or a legalistic God.