Marina and I were driving in the southeast of France near the city of Albertville. It was the early ‘80s and we were a young and adventuresome couple. There, clinging to the side of the mountain, we spotted the ruin of an old castle with a derelict trail beckoning us to follow our noses. An old gate was hanging open and we swung up the path and drove as far as we would dare. As we clambered through the old ruin I found myself in a kind of dungeon with a small slit in the stone, shedding a bar of light on the wall. Could this be true? Did the ancients indulge in graffiti? Indeed, there were two lines of text labouriously carved in the rock wall. I traced them with my finger. “En Dieu seul ma confiance” (in God alone I trust), and then, just below, “soli Deo gloria” (to God alone be the glory). I stood for a long time as emotion flooded over me in the ancient dungeon illuminated by a slit of morning light. You see, many of my forbears and those of Marina confessed these things; some paid with their lives for it. The Therons, the Nels on my side, and the Lombards and De Villiers on Marina’s side fled this land as refugees because they held these confessions so dear and lived them out. These are not mere religious platitudes, theological proposals, or propositions to be used against detractors. These are words of the Way—the Way of Jesus Christ—the Way of the Reformation.
There were five “solas” (Latin for alone or singular or only), that acted as markers of the way of the 16th century Reformation. The two lines of graffiti hint at two of those solas. The first speaks of what became known as sola fide (faith alone), the second is the exact phrasing of the Reformation confession—to God alone be the glory. The other three solas were sola gratia (grace alone), sola scriptura (scripture alone), and solo Christo (Christ alone). It is about this last one that I am writing today. The thing about these five solas is that you cannot live or speak one without the others. And, indeed, they are more about a way of living—a dangerous way—than simply a way of speaking. That, after all, is what a confession is. A confession is not just something we affirm, it is something that can get us locked up in dungeons or turn us into refugees. A confession is a way—and particularly, as we speak of Christ alone, the Way of Jesus Christ.
The five solas are not five statements vying against each other for supremacy; they make up five singular commitments that act as markers on the Way of Jesus Christ. Therefore, if we confess Christ alone, we confess the whole Way of Jesus Christ. In this the five solas teach us that we access the Way through faith (trust, confidence) in God—sola fide. This faith is given to us by God through grace—sola gratia. We know it through the scriptures that reveal to us who God really is—sola scriptura. The gospel story shows us the Way of God in Jesus Christ—solo Christo, and all of this is to be about our thankful praise and glory of God—soli Deo gloria. To say Christ alone, or to say that we are in Christ, or to say that we are saved through Christ is to commit ourselves to walk the costly way, following in the footsteps of Jesus.
This means we commit ourselves to walk in the shadow of the cross even as we sing thankful hymns of glory to God. Walking this way means that Christ made the way possible through his death and that his resurrection gives us hope that all things in all creation will eventually glorify God. It means we are free to be his followers. It means we are free to do as he taught and demonstrated. We are free to love our neighbours, to embrace the ugly, to heal creation, to resist evil, to feed the hungry, and to stand with those who suffer most and are trampled upon by our exploitive consumer culture. It means we will be unpopular, we will be resisted and it means we might end up in dungeons scratching out the truth of the scriptures on prison walls.
Be careful before you confess “Christ alone,” it just might come true for you…
