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The Solas are not just doctrinal statements. They are the grammar of Christian comfort.
The word “Sola” means “alone,” and when the Reformers attached that word to Scripture, Grace, Faith, Christ, and Glory, they weren’t merely composing theological slogans. They were contending for life itself; life with God, life for the neighbor, and life grounded not in our striving but in God’s decisive and final action in Christ. The Solas are not just doctrinal statements. They are the grammar of Christian comfort.
So, let’s walk through them, not as abstract theological categories, but as declarations of gospel sanity for a world drunk on self-justification.
Sola Scriptura: Scripture Alone
When the Reformers confessed Sola Scriptura, they weren’t replacing the Pope with a book. They were insisting that the voice of God is not found in our hearts, our headlines, or our heroes; but in the Word, rightly preached and heard. Put bluntly: God’s Word is the holy thing, the treasure by which everything else is made holy. Not our works. Not our relics. Not even our prayers. The Scriptures are not holy because we read them. They are holy because they proclaim Christ.
God’s Word is the holy thing, the treasure by which everything else is made holy.
In an age where “what feels right” is the final authority, Sola Scriptura anchors us to a Word from outside ourselves; a Word that kills and makes alive, that silences our excuses and preaches Christ into our ears. The authority of Scripture is not found in its ability to answer every modern question, but in its relentless insistence on answering the question that matters most: “How can I be right with God?” The answer is Jesus. Always Jesus.
As Christian apologist John Warwick Montgomery once wrote, “The Reformation principle of Sola Scriptura demands that no other source—whether Church tradition, personal experience, or the latest scholarly consensus—can override the clear teaching of Holy Writ.” [1] When the Bible speaks, God speaks. And when God speaks, he gives Christ.
Sola Gratia: Grace Alone
Grace is not a vibe. It’s not a mood God gets into when he’s feeling nice. Grace is the character of God revealed in Christ for sinners. Grace is not God giving you another chance. It’s God giving you Jesus. As Melanchthon put it, grace is the “gracious acceptance” of the sinner on account of Christ alone, not because of our repentance, or our sincerity, or our religious improvement plan.
Here’s what that means: your salvation is not fragile. It doesn’t hang on your spiritual performance or your emotional consistency. It rests solely on the mercy of God alone. On God’s unshakable, unbreakable decision to be gracious to you in Christ. Even your best repentance cannot add a single drop to God’s grace. Afterall, as Rod Rosenbladt was so fond of saying, “all your repentance is half-assed.” And your worst sin cannot drain it dry. Grace alone means exactly that, alone.
Sola Fide: Faith Alone
Faith alone doesn’t mean that faith is some superior work we contribute to the transaction of salvation. It means that faith is the hand that receives what Christ has already accomplished. As Luther said, “Faith must be a steadfastness of the heart,” [2] not because it’s strong in and of itself, but because it clings to the strong Word and promise of God.
Faith is not a vague religious optimism. It is trust in the mercy of God on account of Christ alone. Nothing more. Nothing less. It’s trusting that, because of Christ, the verdict over your life has already been declared: not guilty. Righteous. Redeemed.
The Christian life doesn’t begin with faith and then move on to something else.
Paul says Abraham was justified because he believed God (Rom. 4:3). He didn’t earn it. He didn’t prove it. He trusted it. And that trust, faith itself, was God’s gift. Not a contribution. Not a condition. A gift. The Christian life doesn’t begin with faith and then move on to something else. It is faith all the way through; always receiving, always resting, always returning to Christ.
As theologian Jim Nestingen once put it, “Faith is what happens when the gospel just has its way with you.” It isn’t something we gin up in ourselves; it’s what the Word does to us when Christ gets a hold of sinners.
Solus Christus: Christ Alone
Let’s be clear: the Reformation was not a debate about religious improvement strategies. It was a confession of Christ. Christ alone. Not Christ and your good works. Not Christ and your decisions. Not Christ and your cooperation. Christ alone is our hope, our righteousness, our forgiveness, and our life.
This is not spiritual poetry, it’s life and death. As Rod Rosenbladt rightly taught me so long ago, the Law of God is not negotiable. It demands perfection, a perfection from the heart, for the neighbor, without agenda. No one lives up to that. No one even comes close. The Law is not interested in your intentions. It exposes your need for a Mediator who has done what you have not and is what you are not.
Christ alone saves sinners. If he is not enough, nothing is.
That Mediator is Jesus. The God-Man. The One who loved the Father and neighbor without fail, who bore your sin and mine on the cross, and who was raised for our justification. There is no Plan B. No back door. No fine print. Christ alone saves sinners. If he is not enough, nothing is. And if Christ alone saves, then nothing else does. If He is enough, nothing else is needed.
The moment we add anything to Christ alone, we lose the gospel altogether. [3] This is why the Reformers drew a line in the sand. The church stands or falls with Solus Christus.
Soli Deo Gloria: To God Alone Be the Glory
In the end, if salvation is from God, from beginning to end, then he gets all the credit. Not 99%. All of it. That’s what Soli Deo Gloria means. It’s not just a motto. It’s the exhale of a sinner who knows they bring nothing to the table but their need.
Even our faith is a gift. Even our “yes” to Jesus is a product of God’s Spirit working through his preached and poured Word. As Jesus told his disciples, “You did not choose me, but I chose you” (John 15:16). This isn’t “Radical Lutheranism.” It’s Christianity. It’s the acknowledgment that if salvation depended on us, we’d lose it before lunch. But it doesn’t. So, we don’t.
The glory goes to God. Every note of Bach’s sacred music ended with “S.D.G.”: Soli Deo Gloria. So does every act of salvation. So does every baptism, every absolution, every sermon that dares to proclaim Christ crucified for sinners. All of it is to the glory of the God who justifies the ungodly.
The Solas Aren’t Over
The Solas are not nostalgic slogans from a dusty past. They are the living pulse of the gospel. They free us from the tyranny of performance. They rescue us from the illusion of spiritual self-help. They return us, again and again, to the cross, to the Word, to the promise.
In a world that prizes authenticity but drowns in self-expression, the Solas re-center us on what actually saves: Christ for us. Grace for sinners. Faith that clings. Scripture that speaks. Glory to God alone.
If you’re tired of being your own savior, welcome to the Reformation. There’s room for you here. And Christ is already enough.
[1] JWM, The Suicide of Christian Theology
[2] Luther, Martin. Luther’s Works, Vol. 35: Word and Sacrament I. Edited by E. Theodore Bachmann. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1960, 396.
[3] For more on this idea, see: Horton, Michael. Christless Christianity: The Alternative Gospel of the American Church. Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2008.jpg?width=36&height=36&name=staff_Headshots-(2%20of%2013).jpg){kind=small}
