Tag: Martin Luther

Forensic Friday: Who's Lutheran Now?

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From Luther’s sermon for the seventh Sunday after Trinity (1534):

Thus St. Paul says: “Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey: whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness?” and this means, as you now through grace are bound to obey God and live according to His Will. For you must be in the service of one master, either of sin which brings you into death and the wrath of God, if you remain in it it, or of God in grace, to serve Him in newness of life. Therefore you must no longer be obedient to sin, for you are now released from its power and dominion.

Sin will not be able to rule over you, for you are no longer under the Law but under grace. That is, you can now resist sin because ye are now in Christ and have received the power of His resurrection.

Either Luther was reading Vos, or the forensic-centric reputation of Lutherans is a caricature. Or maybe the priority of justification was biblical after all.

Where's Waldo Wednesday: Can Union Comfort the Way Justification Does?

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The following passage from Luther’s daily readings left me thinking:

What more could God do? How could a heart restrain itself from being happy, glad, and obedient in God and Christ? What work or suffering could befall to which it would not gladly submit, singing with love and joyful praise to God? If it fails to do so, faith has certainly broken down. The more faith there is, the more joy and freedom there is; the less faith, the less joy. Behold, this is the true Christian salvation and freedom from the Law and from the judgment of the Law, that is, from sin and death. Not that there is no Law or death, but that both death and Law become as if they were not. The Law does not lead to sin, nor death to doom, but faith walks through them into everlasting life.

I know, Luther does not mention justification but he might as well since we are justified by faith and our acquittal in justification is precisely what we need to beat the rap of guilt for sin and the accompanying penalty of death. I suppose someone might be able to write about union in such glowing ways, but I doubt it would make as much sense in the forensic world of law, guilt, judgment, and acquittal.

Is there more to salvation than justification? Sure. But can any other doctrine in the realm of the application of redemption pull off what justification by faith alone does? I doubt it.

My Kind of Lutheran (about me, remember?)

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First they gave us Martin Luther, then Garrison Keillor (okay, that one was indirect), and now Hans Fiene (thanks to our confessional Lutheran correspondent from Texas).

You do have to love Christians who can be this orthodox and this funny. Mind you, I wouldn’t let Hans near the pulpit of our congregation, though he is welcome to receive the Supper (as long as he is baptized and a member of the LCMS). But Lutherans have an extra appreciation for the folly of Christian existence. Must have something to do with the folly of the cross.

Luther Answers the Question

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Such justification is hidden not only from reason and the world but also from the saints. For it is not a thought, word, or work in us, but it is quite outside and above us, for it is Christ’s going to the Father, which means His suffering, Resurrection, and Ascension. And this does not take place within the range of our senses, so that we might see or feel it; but we can grasp it through faith alone.

And this is a remarkable justification, that we should be called just or possess a righteousness which is no work or thought of ours, and is nothing in us, but is completely outside of us, in Christ, and yet is truly made ours through His gracious gift and as completely our own as if it had been attained and merited by our own selves. No reason could understand this language which gives the name justification to me where I neither do or suffer anything, neither think, sense, or feel anything, and there is nothing in me by reason of which I could be saved and made well-pleasing to God; but apart from myself and all man’s thoughts, works, and powers, I hold on to Christ (seated on high at the right hand of the Father), although I cannot see Him.

But faith can grasp it and build upon it and find strength through it in the midst of temptation. (Exposition of John 16)

Desiring God or Faith in Christ?

Published on by D. G. Hart43 Comments

I am falling behind on responses to the last post — the hazards of moving and orchestrating a relocation. TMI alert! But — dare I say — I am still leading family worship, pious Reformed Protestant that I try to be (TMI warning!), and this morning encountered the following from Martin Luther. It strikes me that this understanding of faith, and its different measures among the saints, is way more reassuring than the ecstasy that may accompany desiring God. Not to be missed is that Luther rightly favors the object of faith over the act of faith. The same, I would argue, could be said about charity or any of the other fruits of the Spirit.

In this Christian brotherhood no man possesses more than another. St. Peter and St. Paul have no more than Mary Magdalene or you or I. To sum up: Taking them all together, they are brothers, and there is no difference between the persons. Mary, the Mother of the Lord, and John the Baptist, and the thief on the cross, they all possess the selfsame good which you and I possess, and all who are baptised and do the Father’s Will. And what have all the saints? They have comfort and help promised them through Christ in every kind of need, against sin, death, and the devil. And I have the same, and you, and all believers have.

But this also is true, that you and I do not believe it so firmly as John the Baptist and St. Paul; and yet it is the one and only treasure. It is the same as when two men hold a glass of wine, one with a trembling, the other with a steady hand. Or when two men hold a bag of money, one in a weak, the other in a strong hand. Whether the hand be strong, or weak, as God wills, it neither adds to the contents of the bag, nor takes away. In the same way there is no other difference here between the Apostles and me, than that they hold the treasure firmer. Nevertheless, I should and must know that I possess the same treasure as all holy Prophets, Apostles, and all saints have possessed.

Where's Waldo Wednesday: Reformed Monopoly?

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. . . faith does not merely mean that the soul realizes that the divine word is full of grace, free and holy; it also unites the soul with Christ, as a bride is united with her bridegroom. From such a marriage, as St. Paul says, it follows that Christ and the soul become one body, so that they hold all things in common, whether for better or worse. This means that what Christ possesses belongs to the believing soul; and what the soul possesses belongs to Christ. Thus Christ possesses all good things and holiness; these now belong to the soul. The soul possesses lots of vice and sin; these now belong to Christ. Here we have a happy exchange and struggle. Christ is God and human being, who has never sinned and who’s holiness is unconquerable, eternal and almighty. So he makes the sin of the living soul his own through its wedding ring, which is faith, and acts as if he had done it himself, so that sin could be swallowed up in him. For his unconquerable righteousness is too strong for all sin, so that it is made single and free from all its sins on account of its pledge, that is its faith, and can turn to the eternal righteousness of its bridegroom, Christ. Now is this not a happy business? Christ, the rich, noble, holy bridegroom, takes in marriage this poor, contemptible and sinful little prostitute, takes away all her evil, and bestows all his goodness upon her! It is no longer possible for sin to overwhelm her, for she is now found in Christ and is swallowed up by him, so that she possesses a rich righteousness in her bridegroom. (from Alister McGrath’s The Christian Theology Reader, p. 441)

Two-Kingdom Tuesday: Making Luther Safe for the Baylys

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One of the advantages of the holiday season is the excuse it gives for reading Protestants who follow the church calendar – in this case, Martin Luther. The Martin Luther Christmas Book is a wonderfully good read any time of the year, but since sermons, songs, and church events keep reminding us of the nativity passages in Scripture, curiosity should send us to older Protestant divines to compare their exposition to our Protestant ministers. This little book, based on Luther’s sermons from Luke, provides reminders of the original Protestant’s great sensitivity in reading Scripture. (Don’t let the title put you off even if it sounds like a promotion for the Dean Martin Little Book of Christmas Carols.)

An added bonus for culture warriors is the lessons that Luther drew from the example of Mary for contemporary Christian women. Keeping them bare-foot and pregnant may not be the best way of putting it. But if anti-feminazi Presbyterians would only spend time with real two-kingdom theology, rather than its mythological implications, they might recognize kindred spirits.

The following comes from “Visitation”:

We observe that [Mary] went by the hill country, not by the plain. The journey would take her all of three days. We do not know the precise destination, for although Zacharias was a priest, he was not under the necessity of residing in Jerusalem. He was a poor priest, and we are not to think of Elisabeth as in much more exalted station than Mary.

The Evangelist Luke advisedly inserted those words “with haste.” He meant that she did not stop every five paces to strike up a conversation, as do so many of our maids and matrons. He knew the ways of women and did not wish to give them any handle for justification from the example of Mary.

He meant to say that Mary was like a maid who sees and hears nothing save the commands of her mistress, or like a housewife who does not loiter here and there to chat. The mother of our Lord was no gossip. She went with haste. And that means, too, that she did not act like a pilgrim but circumspectly. The women, therefore, have no warrant for saying, “why should not we go hiking, seeing that Mary went over the hill country and she a virgin?” Yes, but Mary had the command of an angel and she went with haste. You have no command to do as you please. Mary was full of faith, love, and modesty. . . (p. 27)

Act One, Scene Two: Kloosterman on Luther as Neo-Calvinist

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I would not have thought it possible. “It” in this case is an effort to disassociate Martin Luther from two-kingdom theology. Most Reformed Protestants beyond the age of accountability understand intuitively, it seems, that Lutheranism goes wobbly in its Christian teaching because of the dualism that haunts it, thanks to Luther’s two-kingdom theology. Furthermore, when Reformed Protestants, like David VanDrunen, come along and speak favorably of 2k, they usually have to duck or else get hit with the epithetical cream pie of “Lutheran.”

But our good Dr. Kloosterman, the keeper of the neo-Calvinist flame (he likely prefers Calvinettes to GEMS as the name for Christian Reformed girls clubs), will have none of such a conventional understanding of Luther. In the third installment of his review of VanDrunen’s book on natural law and the two kingdoms (the second was on VanDrunen’s handling of Augustine), Kloosterman takes issue with VanDrunen on Luther. VanDrunen’s presentation is hardly controversial; he links Luther to previous developments stemming from Augustine’s doctrine of the two cities, and Gelasius’ teaching on the two swords. VanDrunen doesn’t even try to claim Luther as a proto-Reformed theologian.

But Kloosterman is so opposed to VanDrunen’s project that he will not even let VanDrunen’s discussion of Luther stand. For instance, Kloosterman accuses VanDrunen of a selective reading and quotes from the 1523 essay, “Temporal Authority,” where Luther writes of the Christian prince:

What, then, is a prince to do if he lacks the requisite wisdom and has to be guided by the jurists and the lawbooks? Answer: This is why I said that the princely estate is a perilous one. If he be not wise enough himself to master both his laws and his advisers, then the maxim of Solomon applies, ‘Woe to the land whose prince is a child’ (Eccles. 10:16). Solomon recognized this too. This is why he despaired of all law-even of that which Moses through God had prescribed for him-and of all his princes and counselors. He turned to God himself and besought him for an understanding heart to govern the people (I Kings 3:9). A prince must follow this example and proceed in fear; he must depend neither upon the dead books nor living heads, but cling solely to God, and be at him constantly, praying for a right understanding, beyond that of all books and teachers, to rule his subjects wisely. For this reason I know of no law to prescribe for a prince; instead, I will simply instruct his heart and mind on what his attitude should be toward all laws, counsels, judgments, and actions. If he governs himself accordingly, God will surely grant him the ability to carry out all laws, counsels, and actions in a proper and godly way.

Kloosterman seems to think that this adds up to a brief for his own position – namely, that special revelation must interpret natural revelation. On this basis Kloosterman has argued that a magistrate needs to take his cues from Scripture to rule in a truly just manner. Curiously enough, Luther did not answer his question – where should the prince look for wisdom? – as Kloosterman would, by pointing the prince to the Bible. The archetypal Lutheran in good 2k fashion merely speaks of the prince’s need for a godly attitude in discerning his duties.

This misinterpretation of Luther extends throughout Kloosterman’s installment and it is particularly ironic since Kloosterman’s point is that VanDrunen misinterprets Luther. Be that as it may, Kloosterman insists that Luther must not be chalked up on the side of dualism:

Our point is simple: When one surveys the breadth of Luther’s voluminous writings, the overwhelming impression is that for Luther, the Christian faith and the Christian religion did not exist alongside public life, but came to expression and functioned within public life. Whether speaking at the Diet of Worms or serving as mediator among the German princes, whether opposing public unrest and public heresy or defending good quality education, whether commenting on war and peace or on trade and money—in all of these roles, we meet Luther the preacher of the gospel and pastor of the German people. Yes, Luther knew how to distinguish the “spiritual” regiment from the “temporal” regiment, but he never separated them, nor did he retreat from entering the world’s domain in the name of God, with the Word of God.

There we have it – Luther the proto-Kuyperian. This surely will be news to the historians, theologians, Lutherans, and Reformed Protestants, who knew and know Luther to be 2k. Kloosterman’s reading is not at all unusual for a Kuyperian since neo-Calvinists, from Kuyper to the present, have a habit of reading the past in a way that always vindicates them and their world-and-life-view. Even so, his review suggests less a stroke of genius than a move of desperation to save the neo-Calvinist movement that used to have a monopoly – world dominators that they were – on what it means to be Reformed.

Where's Waldo Wednesday: Cornering the Market on Suffering

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During interactions with advocates of union with Christ I have frequently heard remarks that suggest this doctrine takes account of the believer’s suffering in breathtaking ways. In fact, union is apparently so effective in accounting for the miseries of this life that it needs to be a regular part of counsel and preaching to Christians. The logic goes something like this: because Christ suffered and was glorified as a reward for enduring his suffering, so the Christian, by virtue of his or her union with Christ, will live a life of suffering before inheriting the riches of glorification. In other words, the pattern of the Christian life is rooted in union: just as Christ was humiliated and exalted, so the believer will suffer in this life (humiliation) and then in the life to come be glorified (exaltation). (I am open to instruction on deficiencies in this summary.)

The problem with this conception, though, is that the Protestants who apparently don’t place union correctly in the order of salvation, the Lutherans, those who stress the centrality of justification and the forensic at the expense of the regenerative, have no trouble accounting for suffering. They are, after all, known for the theology of the cross. And Luther, a theologian of the cross, was exceptional in contrasting the theology of the cross with that of glory.

In which case, is union priority better in explaining Christian suffering than justification priority? One way to answer is to look at Calvin’s rather bleak portrait of the Christian life (surely the folks at Focus on the Family wouldn’t call it “golden,” as in The Golden Booklet of the Christian Life, since it would not seem to extol trips to Disneyland) and see how or where he treats union. What follows is one of Calvin’s discourses on the present life that may say as much about Where Waldo Is as it does about neo-Calvinist desires to transform the world and recover paradise. (It’s a two-fer.)

Let the aim of believers in judging mortal life, then, be that while they understand it to be of itself nothing but misery, they may with greater eagerness and dispatch betake themselves wholly to meditate upon that eternal life to come. When it comes to a comparison with the life to come, the present life can not only be safely neglected but, compared to the former, must be utterly despised and loathed. For, if heaven is our homeland, what else is the earth but our place of exile? If departure from the world is entry into life, what else is the world but a sepulcher? And what else is it for us to remain in life but to be immersed in death. . . . Therefore, if the earthly life be compared with the heavenly, it is doubtless to be at once despised and trampled under foot. Of course it is never to be hated except in so far as it holds us subject to sin; although not even hatred of that condition may ever properly be turned against life itself. In any case, it is still fitting for us to be so affected either by weariness or hatred of it that, desiring its end, we may also be prepared to abide in it at the Lord’s pleasure, so that our weariness may be far from all murmuring and impatience. (Institutes, III. ix. 4)

Where's Waldo (A Day After) Wednesday

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What you gotta like about this quote is the close proximity of justification and two-kingdom political theology. If water, the Spirit, and justification are what get you into the Kingdom of God, how exactly does that work for accounting? And the author even concedes that the claim is “hard” to accept, which might account for the popularity of that transformational “can do” spirit.

Do not think that you will enter the Kingdom of God unless you are first born anew of water and of the Spirit. That is a strong and hard saying, that we must be born anew. It means that we must come out of the birth of sin to the birth of justification; else we shall never enter the kingdom of heaven. Upon this birth or justification good works must follow.

Of these things the Lord Christ speaks much with Nicodemus, but Nicodemus cannot understand, nor can they be understood unless a man has experience of them and has been born of the Spirit. (Luther’s Exposition of John 3)