The Who Makes Us Righteous

Standing at the intersection of divine judgment and divine mercy is an uncomfortable place. It's where Abraham found himself in Genesis 18, and it's where many of us find ourselves when we honestly confront the reality of a holy God and a broken world.

Before we dive into Abraham's conversation with God, we need to understand what prompted it. The cities of Sodom and Gomorrah had become cesspools of violence and sexual sin. But what moved God to action wasn't just the wickedness itself—it was the outcry of the victims.

When we experience deep pain and injustice, something within us cries out for someone with authority to intervene. A child in danger doesn't call out to another child for help. When we're victims of crime, we dial 911. And when the pain goes beyond what any human authority can address, we cry out to God.

The victims of Sodom and Gomorrah were crying out, and God heard them. He was going down to see if the reports were true, and judgment was coming.

Abraham came from Mesopotamia, a culture with a particularly bleak view of the afterlife. In Mesopotamian belief, everyone—righteous or wicked—ended up in the same dark underworld after death. There was no heaven, no reward for virtue, no distinction between the good and the evil. Just punishment for everyone.

As far as a bleak and negative afterlife was concerned, Mesopotamia was unmatched.

This cultural background shaped Abraham's questions. He wasn't questioning whether God had the right to judge. He accepted that reality. But he needed to know: Does righteousness matter? Will the righteous share the same fate as the wicked?

How often do we carry cultural baggage about death, heaven, and hell? Some people think we become angels after we die. Others believe we become stars. Popular culture feeds us countless narratives about what happens when we die, and we need to bring those assumptions to Scripture to see what's actually true.

Daniel 12:2 gives us clarity: "And many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt."

There are two destinations, not one. Righteousness matters eternally.

What follows is one of the most remarkable conversations in Scripture. Abraham draws near to God—not backing away in fear, but stepping closer, the way we do when we need to ask something deeply important.

"Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?" he asks.

Then he begins what appears to be a negotiation. "Suppose there are 50 righteous within the city. Will you spare it for the sake of 50?"

God agrees.

Abraham presses further. "What about 45? Or 40? Or 30? Or 20?"

Each time, God agrees.

Finally, Abraham gets to 10. "Suppose 10 are found there?"

"For the sake of 10, I will not destroy it," God responds.

We might judge Abraham for this apparent bargaining with God. Shouldn't he just trust God to do what's right? Why all these questions?

But notice that God never rebukes Abraham for asking. He doesn't grow angry or impatient. He simply answers, again and again.

Romans 14:4 reminds us: "Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls, and he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand."

One of the greatest barriers to spiritual growth is the fear of asking questions. We worry that other believers will judge us for not already knowing the answers. We're afraid to appear ignorant or faithless.

But Abraham's example shows us that God welcomes our honest questions. The Lord doesn't demand that we have all the answers before we come to Him. He invites us to draw near, to wrestle with Him, to seek understanding.

Because Abraham asked these questions, we have answers. His curiosity and courage benefit everyone who reads this passage.

Here's where the story takes a sobering turn. Abraham stopped at 10, assuming surely there must be at least 10 righteous people in these cities.

But Romans 3:10 declares a hard truth: "As it is written, none is righteous, no, not one."

The answer for how many righteous people were in Sodom and Gomorrah is zero.

This creates a crisis. If God will spare the city for the sake of 10 righteous people, but there are zero righteous people, what hope is there?

Abraham didn't ask the final question: "What about one?"

And that's the most important question of all.

How many righteous people does it take for God to save? One.

The beautiful truth woven through this passage is that Abraham was likely speaking to the One—to Christ before His incarnation, appearing in human form. The One standing beside Abraham was the One who would later become flesh, live a perfectly righteous life, and offer that righteousness to all who would believe.

Philippians 3:9 captures this stunning reality: "and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith."

We don't have to manufacture our own righteousness. We can't. Like the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah, we stand before a holy God with no righteousness of our own to offer.

But Christ offers us His righteousness. Through faith in Him, God counts us as righteous—not because of what we've done, but because of what Christ has done.

Abraham's conversation with God is ultimately a plea for mercy in the face of deserved judgment. It's a recognition that wickedness must be addressed, but also a hope that grace might intervene.

That same tension exists in our own lives. We know we deserve judgment. We've met ourselves. We know the wickedness in our own hearts. A truly just God should judge us.

But the gospel announces that the One has come. The Righteous One has appeared. And through faith in Him, we can be counted among the righteous—not because we earned it, but because He gives it freely.

The question isn't really about how many righteous people it takes for God to save. The question is whether we'll accept the righteousness offered to us in Christ.

When Abraham finished his questions, the Lord went His way, and Abraham returned to his place. But the story didn't end there. God's plan to provide righteousness for the unrighteous was just beginning.

And it culminates not in a negotiation, but in a cross—where the One Righteous Man died so that many might be made righteous through faith.

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