I’m continuing the series on Works, inspired by Charles Spurgeon’s sermon titled Fruitless Faith. Although I’ve never based a series on another minister’s sermon before, this topic feels especially powerful and important, so I’m diving in. While I’ll continue to write other entries about works and faith from my own perspective, this particular series is best entrusted to a seasoned voice like Spurgeon’s for now.
Throughout our series on James 2:17, we’ve explored the connection between faith and works, clearly stating that true saving faith in Jesus Christ is alive, producing works of repentance, piety, obedience, separation, and love. These works don’t earn salvation but demonstrate that our faith is genuine, rooted in the transformative power of the gospel. In this final blog, we turn to the sermon’s sobering warning about those who profess faith but lack good works. Such a faith leads to carelessness, hypocrisy, and spiritual ruin, dishonoring the Church and hindering others from the gospel. Let’s heed this call to examine our faith, reject hollow profession, and live as true disciples who prove their trust in Christ through obedient works.
The sermon vividly describes the fate of those who claim faith but produce no good works: their “supposed faith generally makes them very careless and indifferent, and ultimately hardened and depraved men.” A faith without works is not neutral—it’s dangerous. It lulls people into a false sense of security, leading them to indulge in sin while believing they’re safe. The sermon illustrates this with the example of a professor who boasts of salvation while steeped in vice, growing more confident as their life spirals downward.
This carelessness begins subtly. A person might say, “Salvation is not of works,” and use that truth to excuse small compromises—a questionable habit, a neglected duty, or a selfish attitude. Over time, these choices harden the heart, confirming them in a false assurance that justifies greater sin. The sermon warns that such individuals become prime “raw material” for Satan’s worst servants, like Judas, whose proximity to Christ made his betrayal all the more heinous. A hollow faith, far from saving, leads to spiritual ruin and a life that mocks the gospel.
A faith without works doesn’t just harm the individual—it burdens them with the “chains of godliness without the comforts of godliness.” The sermon poignantly asks, “Why add sin to sin by insulting the Church through the cross of Christ?” Those who profess faith but live like the world are trapped in a miserable paradox: they feel restrained by the expectations of godliness yet lack the joy and freedom of a true relationship with Christ. They dare not fully indulge in sin for fear of exposure, yet they don’t experience the peace of genuine faith.
This hypocrisy is a heavy millstone. The sermon suggests that if such people intend to perish, they’d be better off abandoning their profession altogether than adding the sin of hypocrisy to their guilt. A false profession not only deceives the individual but also insults the sacrifice of Christ, who died to make us holy, not to enable a life of pretense. True faith frees us to live authentically for God, while a dead faith enslaves us to a façade that offers no eternal hope.
Perhaps the most tragic consequence of a faith without works is the damage it inflicts on the Church. The sermon laments, “These are they that dishonour the Church,” giving the world ammunition to mock Christianity. When professing believers live in sin—whether through open vice or private selfishness—the world points and says, “That is your religion, is it?” Such hypocrisy wounds the Church, breaks the hearts of faithful ministers, and hinders others from embracing the gospel.
The sermon notes that these false professors “prevent the coming in of others,” as their actions lead people to equate Christianity with hypocrisy. A single hypocrite can cast a shadow over the Church’s witness, causing skeptics to dismiss the gospel or find comfort in their own sin. This is a grave responsibility. As believers, our lives are a testimony—either drawing others to Christ or pushing them away. A living faith, marked by good works, shines as a light, while a dead faith obscures the truth.
The sermon doesn’t shy away from the eternal consequences of a dead faith. While it spares the details, it warns of a coming judgment when Christ will “search every heart” with a “tongue of fire.” For those who prostitute their profession for personal gain or honor, the outcome is dire—described as “chains reserved in blackness and darkness forever.” This is a sobering reminder that faith is not a game. A hollow profession won’t stand before the holiness of Christ, who calls us to trust Him fully and live as His disciples.
Yet, even in this warning, there’s hope. The sermon urges us to “go to Christ to be our complete Saviour in very deed and truth.” It’s never too late to turn from a dead faith to a living one. Christ’s grace is sufficient to forgive, renew, and empower us to live for Him. The question is whether we’ll heed the warning and seek Him now, before the day of judgment arrives.
The sermon’s closing illustration of the drifting vessel is a powerful metaphor for true faith. A crew claims to trust the pilot to save their ship but refuses to obey his commands—ignoring the helm, leaving sails unreefed, and standing idle. Their “faith” is a mockery, leading to their doom. True faith in the pilot would have prompted immediate action, proving their trust through obedience. Similarly, true faith in Christ is active, responding to His commands with childlike obedience.
The sermon calls us to prove our faith through specific works, starting with baptism: “He that believeth in Christ and is baptized shall be saved” (Mark 16:16). Baptism is an initial act of obedience, publicly declaring our trust in Christ. From there, we’re to follow every command, no matter how small, knowing that “whatever he saith unto you, do it” (John 2:5). A living faith obeys Christ fully, trusting that His way leads to salvation and life.