Can keeping God’s law save you? See how Romans 3:19–20 answers: the law silences, sentences, and strips us, so we’ll flee to Jesus for righteousness.
Introduction: Salvation as a Case in Court
Illustration: How many of you like legal dramas—Law & Order or A Few Good Men? We love the tension. We love the back-and-forth between prosecution and defense. We love imagining ourselves in the jury box asking, “What’s the truth? How would I decide that verdict?”
Scripture uses a lot of images to describe sin and salvation. The Exodus was slavery and freedom. Jesus uses sickness and healing, death and life. Another is legal imagery. Romans has been reading like a case brought to court. God is the Judge. His law is the standard. And every one of us stands before him as defendants—helpless ones.
Summary: where we’re at in Romans and where we’re going in this passage.
For the last two-plus chapters, Prosecutor Paul has been arguing his case.
In Romans 1:18–32: he showed the Gentile world guilty—those without the Old Testament law, who still suppressed the truth and exchanged God for created things.
In Romans 2: he turned to the moralist and the Jew—those who had the law and the signs of covenant privilege—only to show that having the law is not the same as keeping the law.
In Romans 3:1–8: Paul answered objections: “What about our privileges? What about God’s faithfulness? Is God unjust to judge?”
His conclusion: Whether Jew or Gentile, all are guilty; all need the righteousness of God as the only way God can acquit us and accept us.
Now we arrive at 3:19–20: Paul stands up, and one last time says, “Your Honor, we know that whatever the law says it speaks to those who are under the law—whether the Gentiles who have the law on their conscience or Jews who have the written law. And here’s the law’s purpose: so that every mouth may be stopped, and the whole world may be held accountable to God. How do we know this? For by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight. Why not? Since through the law comes knowledge of sin.”
That’s not small talk. That’s a closing argument. It’s important to note: when Paul says law here, he’s not narrowly speaking of just the Ten Commandments, or the ceremonial things like circumcision or kosher foods, or even the first five books of Moses; he’s treating the whole Old Testament as witness in God’s court. Paul’s point is devastating: if the people with the Bible, the covenants, and privileges have no defense—then the whole world is shut up before God.
Relevance Bridge: What does this have to do with me?
It’s the same question you need to face. It’s painfully personal: where do you fit in this courtroom? If God called you to the stand today—if he asked you for your defense—what would you say?
Theme
Here’s Paul’s point—the spine of the passage: God’s law silences our excuses, sentences our guilt, and strips away self-justification—so we’ll flee to Jesus for the righteousness God’s grace alone can give.
Transition: So, as we follow Paul’s argument in 3:19–20, when God’s law speaks, it doesn’t give us talking points for a defense. It stops our mouths.
The Law Silences Us (v. 19a)
Paul says the law speaks so that every mouth may be stopped. Illustration: The picture is your excuses getting walled off—God’s law fences you in until there’s nowhere left to run. In other words, God’s law is designed to cut off every evasion route—every excuse, every rationalization, every “But I…”—until the defendant has nothing left to say.
Children: the rules of your house say the first thing you must do when school’s done is to clean out your lunchbox or your lunch dishes. But instead, you run outside to play. Instead, you go get a snack. Instead, you go get a change of clothes. Then mom or dad says, “What are you supposed to do first?” “But I was…” “I know, but I needed to…” “Just a minute…” Then your mom or dad says, “Silence!” Children, why would your mom or dad say that? Because you’re guilty. You haven’t done what they asked but what you wanted to do. There’s no excuse that’s going to get you out of it!
As we stand in that courtroom, and Prosecutor Paul has shown our sins, God the Judge asks for our defense: but we’re silent. Why? What are you going to say to all Paul has described in Romans 1:18–3:18? How are you going to get out of it? Your own conscience convicts you! All you can do is wait for your condemnation. Before God, all you can do is be mute and tremble at his majesty.
Example: There’s a very powerful example of this in the story of Job chapter 38. This is the point where the Lord finally speaks. What does he say? In effect, “Who are you, Job, to say anything back to me? I am the Creator; where were you?” The Lord humbles Job. He continues to do so in chapter 39. Then right at the beginning of chapter 40 what does the Lord say? Turn to 40:2: “Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty? He who argues with God, let him answer it” (Job 40:2). What was Job’s response? Look at verse 4: “Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth” (Job 40:4).
I don’t care who you are and I don’t care what you claim you’ve done. None of it matters to God. Who are you to talk back to God about your works when he says “Silence!” Who are you to demand he grant you entrance into his kingdom?
Transition: So, here we are in court, before God the Judge. His law silences us with no defense. Then God hands down the sentence. And once every mouth is stopped, Paul says the Judge does what judges do: he holds the world accountable.
The Law Sentences Us (v. 19b)
The law was given to sentence our guilt: and the whole world may be held accountable to God (v. 19). This isn’t therapy language—this is liability language: answerable, accountable, guilty before the Judge.
Objection: But perhaps you think the phrase whole world doesn’t apply to you in particular? Perhaps you think, “I’m the exception to the rule.”
“But I was born…”—It doesn’t matter where you were born or into what family you were born.
“But I have…”—It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve been nice, how much money you have donated, or how many hours you have volunteered.
By works of the law you cannot expect a reward of eternal life. When Paul says works of the law, some say this means only the ceremonies like circumcision, which was an initiation into the righteousness of the law. Even if this were true, Paul’s point was that this was a false confidence in ceremonies (see 2:28–29). Paul was saying you can’t confide in ceremonies. I follow the interpretation that works of the law means just that—works, no matter what part of the law you think you’re obeying. You can’t rest your relationship and standing with God on the basis of your obedience to anything!
“I’m spiritual.” “I commune with nature out on the waves.” “I do yoga—I don’t do the chants, but I really focus deep down on myself.”
“I’m a good person. I haven’t stolen anything big. I’ve never murdered anyone. I’ve been faithful to my spouse.”
Transition: God’s law silences you from trying to defend yourself and sentences your guilt. God does this to strip you of any self-justification. And once the guilty verdict is in, Paul draws the obvious conclusion: by works of the law no one will be justified. The law strips away every last hope in our performance.
The Law Strips Us (v. 20)
The big coup de grâce and most important point Paul makes here about the purpose of the law is that it’s meant to strip us of any self-reliance: since through the law comes knowledge of sin (v. 20). The law doesn’t just mention sin—it brings it into the light with a clarity that leaves you knowing, not guessing. Illustration: We have new neighbors, and when I was meeting the husband, he was saying they found termites in five places so had to tent the house. I shudder now to think of what a flashlight will find in my walls!
This wasn’t always the law’s job. In the beginning, God gave a law to Adam: “of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat” (Gen. 2:17). The threat for disobedience was death; the implied promise was eternal and heavenly life. If Adam glorified God, he would fully enjoy God forever (WLC, Q&A 1).
But now that we live in the shadow of his fall, the law’s purpose is to show our sin. This is what we call in theological terms the “pedagogical use” of the law. Illustration: Like an x-ray, the law shows our brokenness. Can an x-ray heal a broken bone? Like an MRI, the law shows our sin. Can an MRI heal cancer? We know the answer.
But in my sinful pride, what do I do when I read that the law’s purpose is to show my sin? “I know I’m a sinner, but what I really need to focus on is my self-esteem.” Or, we blame shift: “I’m not responsible; I was born this way; I was raised this way.”
Let’s think a little more deeply about the law. Yes, it shows our sin. But why can’t we be justified by our obedience to the law? There are two reasons.
First, the problem isn’t the law; the problem is you. As Paul is going to say in chapter 7, “the law is holy, and the commandment is holy and righteous and good” (Rom. 7:12). The law is a reflection of God himself, who is holy, righteous, and good. But the law can’t justify us because it is “weakened by the flesh” (Rom. 8:3). When we take God’s good law and mix it with our sinfulness what’s the result? Because of our moral depravity and spiritual inability to serve God as seen in chapters 1–3, the law can’t do anything but show my sins apart from Jesus Christ.
Second, we can't be justified by our obedience to the law because the law requires what we as sinners cannot perform: personal, perfect, and perpetual obedience.[1]
You personally have to obey the law. Your mom or dad can’t do it for you. Your pastor can’t do it for you. Your best friend can’t do it for you. If the law is a reflection of God’s holiness, righteousness, and goodness, then you have to be as holy, righteous, and good as God. Is this you?
You perfectly have to obey the law: every thought in your mind must positively love God and neighbor and negatively must reject sin. Every movement of your will must be away from what is evil and towards what is good. Every desire and inclination of your affections must be God-ward and neighbor-ward and not inward. Is this you?
You perpetually have to obey the law. Every moment of every day of your entire life youpersonally must perfectly obey the law. It’s not good enough that you obeyed one commandment this way in the past. It’s not good enough that you obey each commandment at some point in your life this way. And it’s not good enough that you tried! Is this you?
This is why Paul says by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight (v. 20). Paul says in his sight because the standard isn’t your neighbor’s opinion; it’s God’s gaze. Righteousness isn’t brought to us by the law, because it convicts us of sin and condemns us, silences and strips us. If the law can’t confer righteousness, therefore it can’t save. Righteousness is what’s necessary to be saved. Our depravity and corruption prevent the law from being of any advantage to us in terms of obtaining righteousness.
Apart from Jesus the law can only show you your sin. As one hymn sings:
Vain are the hopes the sons of men
On their own works have built;
Their hearts by nature all unclean,
And all their actions guilt.
In vain we ask God’s righteous law
To justify us now,
Since to convince and to condemn
Is all the law can do.
So, do you see what Paul has done in Romans 3:19–20?
He hasn’t given us a ladder to climb up to God. He’s taken away every ladder we keep trying to lean against the courthouse wall.
God’s law silences us—so we stop pretending we have a defense.
God’s law sentences us—so we stop imagining we’re the exception.
God’s law strips us—so we stop clinging to self-justification, as if God can be impressed, bargained with, or bought off.
That’s what the law can do. It can diagnose. It can expose. It can condemn. It can tell the truth about you.
But here’s what it cannot do: it cannot save you.
And that’s not because God’s law is flawed. It’s because we are. The law is holy and good—but in the hands of sinners, it becomes a mirror that shows us what we are, not medicine that heals what we’ve become. God’s law isn’t the problem—you are, and what you do with it!
So, if you’re still trying to bring God your résumé—your efforts, your record, your intentions—Paul is saying: the case is closed. There’s no defense.
And if you’re honest, you can feel it: when God’s law finally gets done with you, you don’t walk out of court feeling proud. You walk out with your mouth stopped…and your hands empty.
Transition: The great thing about the God of the Bible is that he performs severe mercy: to silence our excuses, sentence our guilt, and strip away self-trust. That’s not God being cruel. That’s God being kind so we’ll stop looking to ourselves and look to Jesus, where God provides the righteousness the law demands! God strips you of self-justification for one reason: so you’ll finally stop trying to present yourself before him…and you’ll be ready to receive what you could never produce.
Hear this: when your mouth is stopped, when the sentence is “guilty,” when you’re stripped bare and have nothing to offer—you’re finally in a place where grace makes sense.
Gospel Bridge
Unbeliever: If you’ve never come to Jesus, don’t run from what God’s law has shown you today. Don’t argue. Don’t negotiate. Don’t delay.
Let the law do its work: put your hand over your mouth. Agree with God about your guilt. And then do the one thing the law can never tell you to do—stop trusting yourself and trust Jesus.
God sent his Son to personally, perfectly, perpetually obey because you’ve not; and to die under the sentence your guilt deserves. And when you trust in Jesus, God does what his law could never do for you: he takes away your unrighteousness that he must condemn, and he gives you Christ’s righteousness that he delights to accept. As the hymn says,
Jesus, how glorious is thy grace,
When in thy name we trust,
Our faith receives a righteousness
That makes the sinner just.
Doubting Believer: If you belong to Jesus, but you’re shaken—by fear, by shame, by intrusive thoughts, by the sense that you’ll never be “enough”—listen: the law was never meant to be the place you draw your comfort. The law can show you your sin, but it can’t speak the final word over you in Christ. If you’re in Jesus, the sentence has already fallen—on him. The guilt has already been answered—by his blood. The righteousness you need is already provided—by his obedience. So yes, let God’s law expose what still clings to you. But don’t live there. Don’t make your home in the courtroom. Run again to Christ—because grace is not just how you began; it’s how you stand.
The law commands, and makes us know
What duties to our God we owe;
But 'tis the gospel must reveal
Where lies our strength to do his will.
The law discovers guilt and sin,
And shows how vile our hearts have been;
Only the gospel can express
Forgiving love and cleansing grace.
What curses doth the law denounce
Against the man that fails but once!
But in the gospel Christ appears
Pard’ning the guilt of num’rous years.
My soul, no more attempt to draw
Thy life and comfort from the law;
Fly to the hope the gospel gives;
The man that trusts the promise lives.
And church, if this is true of us, it’s true of our neighbors too. As we move into the glories of what Jesus has done for sinners in Romans 3:21 and beyond, we have the best news in the world for people who know they’re not okay—and even for people who are still pretending they are. What better place to bring them than here to hear God’s message of forgiveness and freedom?
Conclusion: The Verdict of the Law and Gospel
So, what have we heard in Romans 3:19–20? Not advice. Not a self-improvement plan. A verdict.
God’s law silences our excuses—so we stop talking like defendants with a case.
God’s law sentences our guilt—so we stop pretending we’re the exception.
God’s law strips away self-justification—so we stop clinging to the last scraps of pride.
God does all of this—not to drive you to despair, but to drive you to Christ.
The law silences; the gospel sings.
The law sentences; the gospel acquits.
The law strips; the gospel clothes.
Because when your mouth is finally stopped, and your hands are finally empty, you are finally ready to receive the one thing you cannot earn: the righteousness God’s grace alone gives.
Don’t leave here trying to rebuild a defense. Don’t walk out clinging to “But I…” or “At least I…” Flee to Jesus. Trust his obedience in your place. Rest in his cross for your guilt. Rejoice that the Judge of all the earth is the God who justifies the ungodly through his Son. No defense. No appeal. But for everyone who runs to Christ—no condemnation.
[1] See Westminster Confession of Faith, ch. 19.1; Westminster Larger Catechism, Q&A 20.