So You Think You Can Get to Heaven If You Follow the Ten Commandments?

 “The only thing you need to do to get to heaven is follow the Ten Commandments and be a good person.” It’s a phrase many people have heard—and maybe even believed. It sounds spiritual, moral, and even rooted in the Bible. But this belief is a subtle and dangerous lie. It replaces the gospel of Jesus Christ with a gospel of human effort. It denies the central truth of Scripture: that no one is good enough, and only Jesus can save.

It bothers me people we know and care about really say this popular lie and I want to tell the truth of God’s Word (ESV), expose the root philosophies that feed it—such as humanism and self-worship—and shine a light on how cults like Freemasonry, Mormonism, and Jehovah’s Witnesses promote these deceptions. Most importantly, we will point to the true gospel: salvation by grace through faith in Jesus Christ alone.

The Ten Commandments was never a ticket to heaven.  The Ten Commandments, found in Exodus 20, were given by God to reveal His holiness and to expose our sin. They are good, but they were never meant to be a checklist for earning salvation.

“For by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight, since through the law comes knowledge of sin.” (Romans 3:20, ESV)

The commandments show us what a righteous life looks like—but they also make it painfully clear that we fall short.

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23, ESV)

The law was meant to lead us to Christ—not to become our Savior itself.

The standard of God’s law is perfection. Missing it in even one area makes us guilty before God.

“For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become guilty of all of it.” (James 2:10, ESV)

Jesus fulfilled the law perfectly—something we could never do.

“Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us.” (Galatians 3:13, ESV)

Trying to earn heaven by law-keeping leads to pride or despair. The law was never the way to be saved—it’s what shows us our desperate need to be saved.

The lie that “being a good person is enough” is rooted in secular humanism—the belief that humans are inherently good, self-sufficient, and capable of moral perfection without divine intervention. Thinkers like Rousseau and Kant built philosophies on the idea of human goodness without God.

“Claiming to be wise, they became fools.” (Romans 1:22, ESV)

But the Bible is clear:

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9, ESV)

Humanism flatters the ego and feeds self-worship. But it offers no true solution for sin, guilt, or eternal life.

Many modern cults teach salvation by effort and moral performance. While using religious language, they deny the sufficiency of Jesus Christ.

Freemasonry Freemasonry teaches that men can attain a form of spiritual enlightenment and reach a “celestial lodge above” through good works, rituals, and moral uprightness. Jesus is optional, and their beliefs are often cloaked in secrecy and universalism.

Mormonism (LDS Church) Mormons teach that Jesus’ death opened the door for resurrection, but full salvation requires baptism, temple ordinances, and lifelong obedience to church laws and leadership. Grace alone is not sufficient in their theology.

Jehovah’s Witnesses Jehovah’s Witnesses deny the full divinity of Jesus and teach that salvation is obtained by obedience to the Watchtower Society, evangelizing, and moral living. Like the others, they deny salvation by grace alone.

All of these distort the gospel:

“And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.” (Acts 4:12, ESV)

Our culture idolizes the concept of “being a good person.” It’s often based on self-defined morality, personal feelings, and relative comparisons. But Scripture makes clear that self-justification is a form of rebellion.

“They exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator.” (Romans 1:25, ESV)

“Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” (Judges 21:25, ESV)

This belief is self-worship in disguise. It glorifies human effort and denies our need for a Savior.

The Bible is clear: we are saved by grace through faith in Christ—not by our works, rituals, or moral attempts.

“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” (Ephesians 2:8–9, ESV)

“He saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy.” (Titus 3:5, ESV)

Jesus fulfilled the law and took the punishment for our sins. We don’t earn salvation—we receive it.

The enemy wants you to believe that you can be your own savior. The world, cults, and even your own heart may tell you that being “good” is enough. But the cross of Christ tells another story: that we are not enough—but Jesus is.

“Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’” (John 14:6, ESV)

Have you been trying to earn your way to heaven by keeping the Ten Commandments or being a “good person”? The truth is, you can’t do it. But Jesus already did.

Come to Him in faith. Trust not in your efforts, but in His finished work. Lay down your striving and receive the gift of grace.

He is the only way. He is the only Savior. And He offers eternal life to all who believe.

“Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved.” (Acts 16:31, ESV)

Freedom with Eyes Wide Open

As we celebrate the freedoms we enjoy this 4th of July, let us not only wave flags and light fireworks—but also open our eyes. A true love for one’s country includes both gratitude and honest reflection. Blind nationalism is not patriotism. True love must also correct and protect, especially when we see moral erosion in the name of liberty.

“But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.”
—Philippians 3:20, ESV
“Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God…”
—Romans 13:1, ESV

As Christians, we live with dual citizenship:

• We are Americans by birth or naturalization.
• We are citizens of heaven by the grace of God.

We are commanded to respect our government (Romans 13:1–7), while also remembering it is temporary and imperfect. When governments function justly, they are God’s servants for our good. When they do not, we are called to stand firm in truth, never compromising the values of Christ.

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”
—Romans 3:23, ESV

C.S. Lewis warned of the “chronological snobbery” of assuming our generation or nation is morally superior simply because it is modern or powerful.
Charles Spurgeon echoed similar concerns, saying,

“It is not humility to underrate yourself. Humility is to think of yourself rightly, and not more highly than you ought.”

America has done much good in the world, but it has also made grievous errors—some perpetuated by a false sense of being “chosen” or “exceptional.” These failings, whether rooted in racism, economic greed, or political corruption, reveal our shared human condition: we are fallen, and we need God’s direction.

“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.”
—Genesis 1:27, ESV
“He made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth…”
—Acts 17:26, ESV

Let us be reminded this 4th of July:
We are not divided into multiple races. We are one human race, with different pigments, cultures, and stories—but all made in the image of God.

Prejudice and division distort this divine image. National pride should never exalt our identity over our unity in Christ or our shared human dignity.

The Constitution and the Bill of Rights provide a beautiful structure for liberty and justice. But these rights are not license to do as we please.

The First Amendment protects speech, religion, press, and assembly—but not when they threaten the life, liberty, or safety of others. This aligns with Scripture:

“For you were called to freedom… only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.”
—Galatians 5:13, ESV

Your rights end where another’s begin.
This legal truth echoes God’s moral design:

• Freedom is not unrestrained self-expression.
• Freedom is the ability to choose righteousness without compulsion.

Our legal system, grounded in biblical ideas of justice, understands that freedom without accountability leads to chaos.

“If you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain.”
—Romans 13:4, ESV

Those who violate the law forfeit certain rights to protect the common good. This is not oppression; it is justice, rooted in the dignity of all people and the protection of the vulnerable.

Let us be grateful for the rights we enjoy as Americans:

• Freedom to worship.
• Freedom to speak.
• Freedom to build a life without fear of tyranny.

But let us also be watchful. The freedoms our Constitution guarantees are only safe if we, the people, are governed by virtue and truth.

Spurgeon once warned:

“When a nation glories in its shame, the end is near.”

Lewis added:

“The most dangerous ideas in a society are not the ones being argued, but the ones that are assumed.”

May we never assume we are beyond correction. May we hold tightly to both gratitude and truth, to patriotism and repentance.

We are privileged to live in this country. And we must be willing, if the day comes again, to stand for the original foundations—not merely of land and politics—but of liberty guided by God’s truth.

We are one race, created in one image, in desperate need of one Savior.
Let us be a people who reflect that in how we celebrate, how we vote, how we speak, and how we love.

“Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people.”
—Proverbs 14:34, ESV

“Honor everyone. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the emperor.”
—1 Peter 2:17, ESV

This verse comes in the context of Peter’s teaching about living as sojourners and exiles (v. 11) in a world that is not our eternal home, yet still being respectful, honorable citizens who reflect Christ’s character even under unjust rulers. To “honor” in Greek, timaō (τιμάω), means to assign value, to esteem or respect. This is not about agreeing with or liking everyone, but treating all people with dignity as image-bearers of God (Genesis 1:27).
It reflects universal human dignity, regardless of status, belief, or morality.  This love is not emotional but sacrificial, agapē-type love—committed, intentional, and covenantal. While we are to honor all, we are to deeply love the Church, our fellow believers–ἀδελφότητα (adelphotēta) = “brotherhood,” community of believers (John 13:34–35).  This is reverent awe, not terror. The verb phobeomai (φοβέομαι) can mean fear, respect, or reverence depending on the context. To “fear God” means to live in holy awareness of His power, authority, and holiness—submitting all other allegiances to Him first (Proverbs 1:7).  This is the same word used earlier for “honor everyone,” but it’s specifically applied to the head of state here. In Peter’s time, this likely referred to Nero, a tyrannical and anti-Christian ruler. Yet even then, believers were told to respect the position, if not the person, unless doing so contradicted God’s law (Acts 5:29).

When Death Visits…Holding on Through the Valley

Death does not knock politely.
It crashes in—sometimes expected at the end of a long life, and other times in the middle of our laughter, our hobbies, our dreams, our youth. It does not ask for permission. It comes like a rogue wave, dragging us under without warning. We find ourselves gasping, unable to breathe, caught in a grief that feels like drowning.

We turn, often instinctively, to Psalm 23, searching for comfort in ancient words we have heard at funerals:

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
—Psalm 23:4, ESV

But there are times when even these words—so familiar, so beloved—feel distant. The valley feels too long, the shadow too heavy, the Shepherd too silent.

We are told to be strong.
We are told to have faith.
But grief is not weakness.
Grief is love with no place to go.

When death visits, it leaves behind more than sorrow.
It leaves questions.

• Why now?
• Why them?
• Why didn’t God stop it?
• Why didn’t I say more, do more, love better?
• Will this pain ever go away?

And sometimes, there are no answers. That, perhaps, is the hardest part.
There is no explanation that makes the empty chair less empty.
There is no theological reasoning that makes your child, your spouse, your parent, your friend come back.

C.S. Lewis wrestled with this silence when he lost his wife:

“Where is God? …Go to Him when your need is desperate…and what do you find? A door slammed in your face.”
—C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

If you’ve felt that—the silence—you are not alone.

Even Jesus wept.

“Jesus wept.”
—John 11:35, ESV

He knew He would raise Lazarus.
Yet He stood in front of that tomb and cried because grief matters.
Loss matters.
We were not created for death. We were created for eternity.

And then there is anger.
We feel angry at doctors, hospitals, accidents, at others who move on too quickly—and sometimes, angry at God.

And let us say what is true: God is not afraid of your anger.

The Psalms are filled with laments—raw, honest cries:

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?”
—Psalm 13:1, ESV

Grief is not a straight line.
It’s not a calendar or a checklist.
It’s waves. And some waves come with rage, regret, blame, and bewilderment.

And that’s okay.

Spurgeon wrote:

“God is too good to be unkind and He is too wise to be mistaken. And when we cannot trace His hand, we must trust His heart.”

That’s not a demand to silence your emotions.
It’s a comforting invitation—that even in your questions, your shaking fists, your messy sobs—you are still held.

Grief will return when you least expect it.
On a normal Tuesday. In the grocery store. Hearing a song. Seeing their handwriting. Smelling their cologne. Holding their Bible.

Just when you think you’re okay, the wave hits again.
And that’s not failure. That’s love.

You may feel like you’re drowning again. But there’s a rope—a lifeline thrown out by Christ Himself.

“We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain.”
—Hebrews 6:19, ESV

Hold onto that rope. Let others help you hold it too.

Death is not just about endings.
It is a sacred reminder: no one gets out of this life alive.

“Yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.”
—James 4:14, ESV

Have you made preparations—not just for your body, but for your soul?

Have you chosen where you will spend eternity?

“And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment…”
—Hebrews 9:27, ESV

You will not get a second chance. Once we step into eternity, the decision is sealed.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, executed just before the end of WWII, faced death with courage because he was ready:

“This is the end—for me, the beginning of life.”

Can you say the same?

You do not need to “move on” from your grief.
You do not need to let go of the memories.
But you can, in time, let go of fear.
You can release shame.
You can carry joy, and make new memories with those still here.
You can honor the ones you’ve lost by living fully, honestly, and eternally focused.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more…for the former things have passed away.”
—Revelation 21:4, ESV

Ask yourself:

• Have I accepted the hope Christ offers?
• Have I prepared those I love to grieve without burden?
• Have I made peace with death—not in fear, but in faith?

Let the sorrow come. Let the questions be asked. Let the anger be spoken.

But don’t let go of the rope.

Christ holds you. And He is enough.

“For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”
—Philippians 1:21, ESV

Even If the Worst Happens — Trusting God in the Midst of War

2022 United Nations

When the World Shakes, Is God Still There?  In a world trembling under the weight of bombs, broken homes, and lost lives, we may find ourselves asking, “Where is God?” This question is not new. It’s the same cry of the prophet Habakkuk, who looked around at violence, injustice, and terror and cried out to the Lord:

“O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not hear? Or cry to you ‘Violence!’ and you will not save?”
— Habakkuk 1:2 (ESV)

His cry could just as easily have come from the lips of a Ukrainian mother, a child in Gaza, or a soldier facing unspeakable choices.

Habakkuk’s complaint wasn’t met with condemnation. God didn’t silence his pain—He engaged it. We, too, are invited to bring our rawest questions to the Lord. Faith isn’t pretending things are okay. Faith is trusting that God remains good, even when our world is not.

“The righteous shall live by his faith.”
— Habakkuk 2:4b (ESV)

This verse, quoted later by Paul in Romans, anchors our hope in God’s character, not our circumstances.

God’s track record of restoration can give us hope today:

• In Egypt, He heard the cries of His people and led them through the Red Sea to freedom (Exodus 14).
• In exile, He promised to bring His people back from destruction (Isaiah 43:1–2).
• After centuries, He fulfilled His promise by reestablishing the nation of Israel in 1948—proving His covenant is never forgotten (Isaiah 66:8).

These are not just ancient stories—they are testaments of God’s consistent nature.

“For I the Lord do not change; therefore you, O children of Jacob, are not consumed.”
— Malachi 3:6 (ESV)

He was faithful then. He is faithful now.

Even If the Worst Happens, We Can Rejoice

Habakkuk ends his book not with a resolution, but with a revolution of the heart:

“Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines… yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.”
— Habakkuk 3:17–18 (ESV)

This isn’t a celebration of suffering. It’s an act of defiant trust. Even if we lose everything, we will still find hope in our Savior.

“God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer’s; he makes me tread on my high places.”
— Habakkuk 3:19 (ESV)

What Can We Do in a Time of War?

You may feel powerless watching the news or scrolling through photos of destruction. But even the smallest acts matter. Here are ways you can bring hope:

• Pray deeply and specifically for those caught in conflict.
• Give generously to trusted organizations offering food, shelter, and trauma care.
• Write or call government officials to advocate for humanitarian aid for those being persecuted.
• Open your heart or your home to displaced families or refugees of persecuted peoples.
• Support children affected by war through sponsorship or prayer.
• Be present to someone who is grieving—even if you don’t have the perfect words.
• Support troops and their families who are fighting for justice!

Remember: it is not always our big gestures that heal, but our small faithfulness that builds a path to restoration.

God does not ignore war. He enters it. He weeps over it. He redeems it. The cross is proof that He doesn’t save us from suffering—He saves us through it.

He is the same God who parted seas, who regathered scattered people, and who will one day wipe away every tear. Until then, may we be vessels of His compassion, carriers of His peace, and witnesses of His faithfulness.