Growing up in a rural evangelical church, I often remember hearing Isaiah 64:6 (in the King James Version): “All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags” (Isa. 64:6). And I’m glad I did. It’s good to be taught you’re not saved by works (Eph. 2:8; Titus 3:7). It’s vital to remember that “those who are in the flesh cannot please God” (Rom. 8:8).

But what if you’re not in the flesh? What if you’re in Christ by the Spirit (v. 9)? What if God is now your adoptive Father? How does he view your “righteous deeds” then? Are they still filthy rags? Do you still think you’re unable to please him?

I fear that as Christians, we sometimes underestimate the change in status that took place when we were united to Christ and adopted into God’s family. We speak of ourselves as though nothing had changed in our relationship, and as if God still viewed our efforts to please him as offensive. But this is false, as we’ll see from Scripture.

My contention is this: If you’re God’s child in Christ, then God doesn’t view your efforts to please him as filthy rags. Provided those works flow from love for God and neighbor and are guided by God’s Word, the Bible has a much more positive view of them.

Offerings Pleasing to God

The most vivid descriptions occur in Philippians 4:18 and Hebrews 13:16. In Philippians 4, Paul speaks of how the Philippians had generously “sent [him] help for [his] needs once and again” (v. 16). It’s how Paul describes those gifts that’s so striking: “a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God” (v. 18).

Let that sink in for a moment. Not a filthy rag but a fragrant offering. Not a foul stench but a pleasing aroma. Similar language occurs in Hebrews 13:16, where it once again describes generous financial sharing: “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.”

In both passages, the author is speaking of works done by Christians. These passages aren’t speaking of charitable deeds done by Pharisees or other nonbelievers. But neither are they referring to Christ’s righteous deeds imputed to us. They’re referring to what Revelation 19:8 calls “the righteous deeds of the saints.”

When the master in the parable says, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” it’s because the servant has actually been faithful (Matt. 25:23). When King Jesus invites the sheep to inherit the kingdom, he immediately says, “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink,” and so on (v. 35). Hebrews 6:10 even makes the staggering claim that “God is not unjust so as to overlook [our] work and the love that [we] have shown for his name in serving the saints.” The Bible is abundantly clear that Christians can do works that please the Father.

Accepted in the Beloved

To some, this might sound too good to be true; perhaps even impossible. Surely even our best works are still tainted with imperfections—so how can God be pleased with that? He clearly is (based on the passages just cited), but how?

The Bible is abundantly clear that Christians can do works that please the Father.

The answer is found in our union with Christ. When we’re joined to Jesus, not only does his righteousness flood our account but his Father becomes our Father, and the Father’s attitude toward him becomes his attitude toward us. This is what Ephesians 1:6 means when it speaks of us being “accepted in the Beloved” (NKJV). If you’re “in the Beloved,” the Father can look down on you and say, “You are my beloved son/daughter; with you I am well pleased.” In short, God accepts your good works because he has already accepted you.

The only other time Paul speaks of a “fragrant offering,” it’s with reference to Christ’s own sacrifice (Eph. 5:2). There’s a genetic relationship between Christ’s act of self-giving love and our acts of self-giving love. Ours flow from his. But there’s also a family resemblance. Because we’re sons in Christ, his fragrance rubs off on us. And it covers all the flaws and imperfections that remain in our good works. When God smells the sacrificial works of his children, they smell like Jesus to him.

Father Who Delights in Us

Tim Keller’s famous maxim applies here: We’re more flawed and sinful than we ever dared think, yet we’re more loved and treasured than we ever dared hope. Just as it’s hard for us to fathom how offensive we are to him outside of Christ, it’s also hard for us to grasp how much God delights in us as a Father.

God isn’t offended by our sincere efforts to please him. What father would be? Can you imagine if my children decided to honor me on my birthday by bringing me breakfast in bed, and my response was “Guys, you’re already my children—you don’t have to bribe me with gifts to make me love you. Take this meal away and stop trying to earn my love with your legalism! If I were hungry, I wouldn’t tell you—for all the food in this house is mine!” Right. I can’t imagine that either.

It’s hard for us to grasp how much God delights in us as a Father.

Sadly, what I can imagine is me looking at my children’s childish efforts and immediately focusing on the flaws. “Oh, that’s nice, but . . . the star is crooked . . . you colored outside the lines here—did you mean for it to look like that?” We tell ourselves we’re trying to help, but too often we’re just grumpy jerks who don’t know how to give praise. Thankfully, God isn’t like that. He’s like me at my best multiplied by infinity. He may be a righteous Judge, but he’s not a nitpicky Father.

Yes, he demands perfection. But this demand has already been met by Jesus, and if you’re in Christ, you already have that on your account—so let’s consider that pressure off. When we sin and displease him, he’s faithful to discipline us because he loves us and wants us to share his holiness (Heb. 12:10). But when he looks at our efforts to love others and please him, he’s not looking for perfection. He’s looking for sincerity. And he’s looking with the eyes of a loving Father.

Postscript: Teaching of the Reformed Confessions

I’ve tried to show that this joyful news is biblical. But for what it’s worth (and I think it’s worth something), it’s also found in the Reformed confessions, like the Westminster Confession of Faith, the Savoy Declaration, and the Second London Baptist Confession of Faith (2LCF, my own church’s confession).

Chapter 16 of the 2LCF clearly states that even a Christian’s best works could never merit eternal life, since they’re “mixed with so much weakness and imperfection.” But then paragraph 6 makes this caveat:

Yet notwithstanding the persons of believers being accepted through Christ, their good works also are accepted in him; not as though they were in this life wholly unblameable and unreprovable in God’s sight, but that he, looking upon them in his Son, is pleased to accept and reward that which is sincere, although accompanied with many weaknesses and imperfections. (cf. WCF 16.6; Savoy Declaration 16.6)

I’m not making this up. Believe me, I’m too much of a pessimist to invent something this encouraging. Our heavenly Father isn’t impossible to please. Not if you’re his adopted child in Christ. He rejoices to see you walking in faith, and he won’t let any good work go unrewarded (Eph. 6:8). So when you think of your efforts to please him, don’t think “filthy rags”; think “fragrant offerings.”