A Strange Comfort in the 3 Scariest Bible Verses

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’”
- Matthew 7:21-23 (ESV)

This passage is generally considered the most frightening in all of Scripture. And with good reason.

Here we have a group of people who are self-deceived. People who think they’re saved. People who believe they’re safe. People who confidently enter eternity, assured of their seat at the table, only to discover that their names aren’t on the guest list.

And not just a few. “Many.”

The gravity of that moment can’t be overstated.

The Scene

In these three verses, Jesus gives us a glimpse into the single most horrifying scene in all of existence. It takes place on “that day,” which is shorthand for the day of judgment, when human history in the present age concludes and humankind enters the eternal state. This transition point is the hinge for all eternity. There’s no rewind button. No second chances. No do-overs. Whatever happens at this time is final. God judges. Forever follows.

And whom is Jesus addressing? He’s not speaking to evil dictators, terrorists, or serial killers. He’s not speaking to Muslims, Buddhists, or militant atheists either. He’s speaking to those who would label themselves Christians. They call Jesus “Lord” and highlight the many instances when they acted as his representatives. So Jesus’ name isn’t foreign to their lips. These are regular churchgoers perhaps. Or even church leaders.

This passage is the Bible’s closest equivalent to the age-old hypothetical scenario where God asks, “Why should I let you into heaven?” Jesus takes his audience into this moment mid-scene, where we can see that this group, on some level, has already been rejected. This is made clear by the defensive posture of their first recorded statement.

“Lord, Lord, did we not…?”

That language reflects a rebuttal to a previously presented charge. These people are desperately attempting to plead their case. They’re reaching for justification, something—anything—to convince Christ to grant them entry into his kingdom. With the clock winding down, they immediately point to their extensive résumé, outlining time after time when they tried to showcase God’s power on earth.

And it’s worth noting that the items they list, in and of themselves, don’t seem to be problematic. Certainly, there’s nothing inherently sinful about prophesying or casting out demons, as those were actions that Jesus himself performed (Matthew 24:2-51, Mark 1:34) and that his disciples had authority and power to do (Matthew 10:1, Acts 2:17).

But in the end, this last-minute effort to clear their records and enter heaven fails. And Jesus responds with the most gut-wrenching, blood-curdling statement ever uttered:

“I never knew you; depart from me…”

Those seven words are an eternal nightmare.

A Question of Trust

It seems that most believers have had a time when Matthew 7:21-23 has shaken them up a bit. For some, it’s a brief moment of concern, where we pray that the Lord not let us be among that group. For others, there may be extended periods of anxiety, perhaps even sleepless nights, where we obsessively analyze every detail of our lives in an attempt to make sure we’re not deceived in our faith.

And so the thought of this passage containing any comforting elements, I imagine, is foreign to most of us, as it had been to me for much of my walk with the Lord.

““If God tells a man that he can’t enter heaven, the very next words out of that man’s mouth reveal what he had trusted in to get him there.””

Nevertheless, I believe comfort is available here. Allow me to explain.

Let’s go back to that instant this group is standing before Jesus. As I mentioned above, I think there’s reason to believe that the unwritten beginning of that scene contains an initial rejection from the Lord.

And here’s what I can guarantee: If God tells a man that he can’t enter heaven, the very next words out of that man’s mouth reveal what he had trusted in to get him there. Whatever he resorts to in protest is what he had assumed would be the basis for his entry. Ultimately, that is where he had placed his hope and trust.  

With that in mind, we see that this group in Matthew 7 had trusted in the “many mighty works” they had done in Jesus’ name, as that is where they turn to defend themselves. They had assumed they could work their way to heaven.

It wasn’t necessarily the case that they had thought being a good person apart from Jesus was enough; they may have very well believed Jesus to be vital. But their hope of heaven was rooted in the works they had done in Jesus’ name, not in Jesus himself. In other words, they likely viewed Jesus as essential, but they certainly didn’t view him as sufficient.

You see, the Bible is clear that salvation comes solely through faith in the person and work of Jesus Christ, not by any works of our own (Romans 3:28, Galatians 2:16, Galatians 3:24, Ephesians 2:8-9). We can never earn, or merit, a spot in heaven.

In verse 21 of Matthew 7, Jesus declares that the one who will enter his kingdom is “the one who does the will of [his] Father.” On the surface, we can see that phrase and assume that must entail certain behaviors, or works, on our part. However, when Jesus was asked what must be done in order “to be doing the works of God,” he replied, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent” (John 6:28-29). In order to be welcomed into heaven, Jesus must be where our trust and hope are found.

Where’s the Comfort?

When I place myself in the scenario of those in these verses, and I imagine being denied entry into the Lord’s kingdom, I think about what my next words would be. In that shocking moment of panic, where would I turn? What would I say?

As best as I can assess myself, let me first tell you what I wouldn’t say. I wouldn’t dream of pointing to anything I’ve accomplished to argue my case. To be more specific, I wouldn’t speak of:

•     my church attendance
•     the books I read
•     my performance as a husband or father
•     the money I gave to those in need
•     the education I attained
•     the quality of my friendships
•     the Sunday school lessons I taught
•     my hours of Bible reading
•     my time spent in prayer
•     the clients I served
•     how hard I fought against sin
•     how many temptations I resisted
•     how often I spoke up for others
•     how frequently I shared the gospel  

And on and on and on I could go. None of those are my fallback options. None of those carry any weight in an eternal courtroom. All of those items are good things, but none of them remove sin or bring salvation.

And honestly, my stats in those areas aren’t even all that impressive to begin with.

So if I were rejected by Christ on that day, I wouldn't look to myself at all. I would protest with one thing: Christ. I would point to Jesus. I would speak of his cross. I would proclaim his life, death, and resurrection. I would scream out, “But you paid for this! Your blood covered my sins! You were crushed in my place! You absorbed the wrath of God that I deserved! You purchased me! You saved me! My sins were washed away! You gave me your righteousness! Your perfection was counted as mine! We traded places!”

Now, why would I respond that way? Because my hope is in him. My trust is in him. My soul is in his hands. The words and promises and gospel of Jesus Christ are where I stake my eternity. And, according to Scripture, that’s exactly where my trust needs to be in order to be reconciled to God. 

““So I can read this portion of Matthew and recognize that I’m not among those who trust in themselves to earn salvation. And the fear that tends to accompany this text then vanishes.””

So that’s where my comfort comes from in this passage. You see, this group in Matthew 7 reflected misplaced faith, trusting in their own works to bring salvation. I believe that my faith has been properly placed squarely on the person and work of Jesus Christ alone, which aligns with the gospel message revealed in Scripture. Therefore, any good works in my life flow from that faith; they are the fruit, not the root, of my salvation (Ephesians 2:10). So I can read this portion of Matthew and recognize that I'm not among those who trust in themselves to earn salvation. And the fear that tends to accompany this text then vanishes.

But make no mistake; I'm not exempt from struggling with assurance at times. So whenever I do have moments when I question whether I’m deceived in my faith and not a true Christian, I'm greatly encouraged by the words of J.C. Ryle:

“He may have fears and doubts. He may sometimes tell you that he feels as if he had no faith at all. But ask him if he is willing to trust in anything instead of Christ, and see what he will say. Ask him if he will rest his hope of eternal life on his own goodness, his own works, his prayers, his minister, or his church, and listen to his reply.”

I know my reply. And because my faith isn’t in myself and my good works, I’m not paralyzed by this passage. I know who my Savior is. And if you’ve abandoned any notion of self-reliance in salvation and have thrown yourself on the mercy and grace of Jesus, then you, too, can actually find comfort when you encounter these three verses.

So ask yourself, If God denied my entrance into heaven, what would I protest with? How would I defend myself? Where is my hope and trust today?