Why The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod and Its Kin Have Declined in Membership and What to Do About It

By Martin R. Noland


Lutheran church leaders have been trying to explain the slow-but-sure decline in Lutheran church membership in America since the 1980s. Explanation for the decline in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA)[1] is straight-forward and obvious. A constant focus by the ELCA on “social justice,” church fellowship with non-Lutherans, and adoption of the gay-lesbian agenda at its 2009 convention has led many of its former members to drop out, join other denominations, or start new synods, such as the North American Lutheran Church (NALC)[2] and the Lutheran Congregations in Mission for Christ (LCMC)[3].

Explanation for the much slower decline in membership of The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod (LCMS)[4] and its kin—the Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod (WELS)[5] and the Evangelical Lutheran Synod (ELS)[6]—is less obvious and is, in fact, puzzling. From about 1973 to the present time, church-going Evangelical Protestants have consistently out-numbered church-going mainline Protestants in the United States. Today the church-going Evangelicals outnumber church-going mainline Protestants nearly four to one.[7] In the four key beliefs that define Evangelicalism, the LCMS and its kin are aligned with Evangelicals, not mainline Protestants.[8] So in this period, why haven’t the “confessional Lutherans,” i.e., the LCMS and its kin, enjoyed the same, or similar, membership growth that Evangelicals have seen?

In my opinion, the “confessional Lutherans” have not seen growth primarily because of four factors. These four factors are things that the Evangelicals have done, and we confessional Lutherans have refused to do. The confessional Lutheran refusal to follow Evangelical practices in these matters is commendable. I would not have these synods do otherwise. The LCMS, WELS, and ELS have been faithful to their beliefs, their confessions, and the Scriptures by refusing to do these four things.

The first factor is the confessional Lutheran refusal to participate in unionistic worship services, revivals, and other unionistic religious work. American Evangelicalism really began with the Second Great Awakening, which was led by Presbyterian, Methodist, and Baptist ministers as a self-consciously unionistic enterprise.[9] Evangelicalism has been unionistic ever since. Unionism, or religious cooperation between people of contrary beliefs, is a key component of Evangelicalism’s popularity and its great “success.” The LCMS and its kin, on the other hand, have been strictly anti-unionistic, as were their orthodox Lutheran predecessors going back to the sixteenth century.

The second factor is the confessional Lutheran refusal to accept the theology and practices of the charismatic movement. Although the early leaders of modern Evangelicalism in the post-war period were not Pentecostal or charismatic, the tide has changed. Charismatics, who are usually classified as Evangelicals, now are a majority among “born again” Evangelicals in America.[10] Charismatics are also a key component in Evangelicalism’s growth. This has led to some conflict with non-charismatic Evangelical leaders.[11] The LCMS and its kin, on the other hand, though buffeted by charismatics for a time, have resisted the siren song of tongues-speech, bogus healings, speculative prophecies, and related manic practices. 

The third factor is the confessional Lutheran refusal to “sheep-steal.” The twenty-second paragraph of the Preface to the Book of Concord elaborates the Lutheran belief that there are many pious Christians “who err ingenuously and who do not blaspheme the truth of the divine Word” (Tappert, 11) in non-Lutheran Christian churches. This belief is the reason that, as a rule, Lutherans do not consider members of other Christian churches to be a focus of their evangelism efforts. Evangelism is properly directed to the non-churched, the unbeliever, and to people of other religions. Evangelicals, on the other hand, have grown in numbers in large part due to their willingness to proselytize their fellow church-going Christians. Although some Evangelicals have criticized this practice,[12] it is a common practice defended by “church growth” gurus.[13] Since confessional Lutherans hold to the same key beliefs as Evangelicals, our youth and young people have been “easy pickings” for Evangelicals.

The fourth factor is the confessional Lutheran refusal to identify with American Evangelical politics and political organizations. A recent pastoral letter by President Matthew Harrison reminds pastors of the LCMS that, though we have a few issues of concern for the body politic like abortion and same-sex marriage, neither the pastors nor the synod should tell people how to vote or whom to vote for.[14] 

This is in stark contrast to the Evangelical common practice of making political statements, persuading public officials, and telling the Evangelical flock how to vote and for whom to vote. Of modern Evangelicals, 62% believe that religious organizations should persuade senators and elected officials on legislative matters, which compares to 40% of Liberal Protestants, 47% of Roman Catholics, 37% of non-Christian religious people, and 28% of secularists.[15] This is a big change from the conservative Protestants in the 1950s and 1960s who believed that they should not be political involved.[16] The heavy involvement of modern Evangelicals in politics since the 1970s has been well-documented and analyzed.[17] One might conclude that many people joined the Evangelical churches since the 1970s out of political convictions, instead of spiritual ones. In the present political season (i.e., early 2016), the political convictions of Evangelicals seem to be “Trumping” their spiritual convictions.[18]

What should the “confessional Lutherans” do about this? Imitating Evangelical worship practices, sheep-stealing, accepting charismatic or unionistic practices, or any other Evangelical practices or theology will only further erode the membership of “confessional Lutheran” churches. These are not options for us.

In my opinion, in the present climate, we “confessional Lutherans” should concentrate on our strengths, not on our weaknesses. We should tell people that in regard to the four key beliefs of Evangelicals, we are Evangelicals—Dr. Gene Edward Veith has been saying this since 1999, if not before[19]—and we have so much more to offer than what is found in Evangelicalism. 

Our preaching is permeated with the constant grace and love of God, because we believe that the Gospel should predominate in preaching and teaching, not the Law. We have a doctrine of sanctification that allows for failure, because it recognizes we are always sinners and saints, and that Jesus forgives anyone who repents. We have a solid hermeneutic for interpreting the Bible that has been tested by five hundred years of theological debate. We have a time-tested theology in the Book of Concord, which our pastors are expected to follow and which keeps them from idiosyncratic teaching and church-fights over doctrine. 

We have a congregational polity, which keeps our pastors “in check,” prevents abuse of power by “bishops,” avoids problems of pastoral succession, and which recognizes the ecclesial role of the laymen in exercising their own “priesthood.” We have a liturgy and hymnody that sings the praises of God, not of ourselves. We have sacraments in Baptism and Absolution that actually give the Holy Spirit, faith, and forgiveness to those who receive them. We recognize that reason and the arts are a gift of God, unlike many Evangelicals who are anti-intellectual or who despise science and the arts. As a rule, we avoid political involvements, since we recognize the left-hand of God at work in rulers, and we have learned by historical experience that political engagement corrupts the church, and vice versa. 

  Finally, we confess that “Christ . . . in His Supper, engages with us in a blessed exchange whereby he unites himself with us through his holy flesh and blood so that, by his power, he may continually crucify and kill the old Adam more and more. And thus we all become one body in Christ, where each member is to love, honor, and support the other. . . He who finds that he is weak in faith has in the Lord’s Supper a blessed, powerful antidote to strengthen faith.”[20] 

These are just some of our strengths, which we should be happy to confess before the world in the coming 500th anniversary of Luther’s Reformation.



[1] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evangelical_Lutheran_Church_in_America#Statistics ; also see http://www.firstthings.com/blogs/firstthoughts/2013/06/elca-has-lost-half-a-million-members ; accessed March 4, 2016, as were all other web pages in this article.

[2] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/North_American_Lutheran_Church.

[3] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lutheran_Congregations_in_Mission_for_Christ.

[4] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lutheran_Church%E2%80%93Missouri_Synod#Membership_and_demographics.

[5] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wisconsin_Evangelical_Lutheran_Synod#Membership.

[6] For current statistics, see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evangelical_Lutheran_Synod#Membership. Statistics for 1991 indicate 21,347 baptized members in the ELS; in John F. Brug, et.al., WELS and Other Lutherans (Milwaukee: Northwestern Publishing House, 1995), 104.

[7] See https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2015/05/14/in-a-dramatic-shift-the-american-church-is-more-evangelical-than-ever.

[8] The four key beliefs of Evangelicals are explained here: http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2016/april/defining-evangelicals-in-election-year.html. The beliefs are defined by the authors with the following statements used in surveys: 1) “The Bible is the highest authority for what I believe”; 2) “It is very important for me personally to encourage non-Christians to trust Jesus Christ as their Savior”; 3) “Jesus Christ’s death on the cross is the only sacrifice that could remove the penalty of my sin”; and 4) “Only those who trust in Jesus Christ alone as their Savior receive God’s free gift of eternal salvation.”

[9] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Great_Awakening ; see also https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cane_Ridge,_Kentucky.

[10] See https://www.barna.org/barna-update/congregations/52-is-american-christianity-turning-charismatic#.Vtnw-Ob3yzM.

[11] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_F._MacArthur#Cessationism ; and http://www.christianpost.com/news/strange-fire-conference-john-macarthur-calls-out-charismatic-movement-as-unfaithful.

[12] For example, see: William Chadwick, Stealing Sheep: The Church’s Hidden Problems with Transfer Growth (Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 2001).

[13] See Donald McGavran, “Sheep Stealing and Church Growth,” in Win Arn, ed., The Pastor’s Church Growth Handbook (Pasadena, CA: Church Growth Press, 1979), 15–18.

[14] See http://blogs.lcms.org/2016/president-harrison-provides-a-lutheran-view-of-church-and-state.

[15] See James Davison Hunter, American Evangelicalism: Conservative Religion and the Quandary of Modernity (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1983), 115–16.

[16] See Hunter, American Evangelicalism, 116.

[17] See Robert Zwier, Born-Again Politics: The New Christian Right in America (Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 1982); James Davison Hunter, Culture Wars: The Struggle to Define America (New York: Basic Books, 1991); D. Michael Lindsay, Faith in the Halls of Power (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007); Christine Wicker, The Fall of the Evangelical Nation (New York: Harper One, 2008); Ross Douthat, Bad Religion: How We Became a Nation of Heretics (New York: Free Press, 2012); and Kevin M. Kruse, One Nation Under God: How Corporate America Invented Christian America (New York: Basic Books, 2015).

[18] See http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2016/02/the-demise-of-conservative-christian-political-prominence/471093

[19] See Gene Edward Veith, The Spirituality of the Cross: The Way of the First Evangelicals, 2nd ed. (Saint Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2010). The first edition of this book was in 1999.

[20] See Martin Chemnitz and Jacob Andreae, Church Order for Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel , 1569 edition, tr. Jacob Corzine, Matthew Harrison, and Andrew Smith, ed. Jacob Corzine and Matthew Carver (Saint Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2015), 63.

Book Review:

Feasting in a Famine of the Word: Lutheran Preaching in the Twenty-First Century. Edited by Mark W. Birkholz, Jacob Corzine, and Jonathan Mumme. Eugene, Oregon: Pickwick, 2016. Xxiv + 299 pages. Click here or here.

Lutheranism began as a preaching movement. While not often given the attention it deserves by scholars, Luther put a premium on his Postille, sermons published to serve as models for preachers and for Christian edification. Doctrinally sound, engaging, and Christ-giving preaching is a non-negotiable hallmark of the Church of the Reformation. This collection of seventeen essays by both younger and seasoned theologians and pastors will strengthen that conviction and provide substantive, meaty reflection on preaching today. It is fair to say that contemporary American society values therapeutic, pick-me-up, inspirational talks but not robust proclamation. Preachers who wish fearlessly to proclaim the truth will find their vocation empowered in these essays.

First in line, John Bombara describes the current milieu for preachers as consumerist. But obviously preaching cannot be tantamount to selling goods if it is to be faithful to the truth. He indicates that sermons can be modeled after a number of different structures, (1) textual (i.e., exposition), (2) thematic (i.e., topics), and (3) dynamic (i.e., narrative preaching style). But the key to Lutheran preaching “is the living dynamic of law and gospel applied to hearers (as primary discourse), which discursive and living dynamic can make use of virtually any type of sermon structure (including dynamic structures) toward the proclamation and application of law-and-gospel” (24). This law/gospel approach pits Lutheranism against consumerism: “Consumerism and Lutheranism are a clash of orthodoxies precisely at the point of justification. Lutheranism, however, is at home in the church as the church, while consumerism must remain alien to the church if the law and gospel are to be efficaciously preached and ‘the whole counsel of God’ broadcast” (26).

Developing a theme echoed by other essayists here, Mark Birkholz grounds preaching in truth. The scriptures upon which preaching is based are reliable. “The preacher’s words are certain, even if they are not judged so by the hearers. The certainty of the message of Jesus is testified to by its coherence with the preceding word of God (fulfillment) and by the witness of those who have seen and heard the events of salvation” (40). Paul Elliot notes that the time-honored approach to the Old Testament through typology, i.e., that the Old Testament throughout mirrors and portrays Jesus Christ, makes it relevant and powerful for Christian proclamation. Christ is the “link” between the Old Testament and today (61). Rick Serina appeals to a late medieval theologian, Nicholas of Cusa, noted for his role in education, theology, and the care of souls, in order to advocate that “the reform of the church—including anything resembling a reformation of preaching—would prove impossible apart from the reform of the clergy. Without well educated, theologically competent ecclesiastics and pastors who can bring their competence to bear upon their responsibilities within the church, there is no hope for changing thought and practice in a healthy, productive fashion. Reformation begins with the clergy” (75). Furthering the theme of truth, Roy A. Coates, appealing to Johann Gerhard, maintains that sound preaching needs systematic content. “Without systematic knowledge, preaching has nothing to instruct or refute, and no certain basis from which to encourage, correct, or comfort” (95).

Jacob Corzine appeals to Johannes Brenz’s articulation of a double faith (fides duplex) in order to help preachers who proclaim to those who oscillate between faith and doubt (as so many of us do) and rightly shows that faith rests on the objectivity of the means of grace (111). Jonathan Mumme builds from the distinction of preachers identifying with their audience (we) and differentiating themselves in proclamation (I and you). Ultimately, in proclamation it is Christ speaking through the preacher, and that is the basis for the preacher’s authority in preaching. That Christ is so present frees preachers from having to “actualize” the text for hearers (137). Steve Paulson notes that the preached word is a verbum reale or efficax, a creating word, and not merely one which persuades or instructs. John Pless similarly underscores the sacramental dimension of preaching in which the preacher “does the text” that kills and justifies the hearers (169). The liturgical undergirding of preaching is precisely sacramental. Countering antinomianism, Hans-Jörg Voigt claims that proclamation is not to be set in opposition to parenesis. Instead, in light of the gospel there is a third use of the law. The Christian is called to struggle against sin in his own life and to seek to better this world.

In light of the fact that the great homilies of the church fathers could be read in lieu of one’s own sermon, then why preaching? David Peterson takes on that question. In a word, the Holy Spirit creates faith for the assembled congregation through preaching. A parish pastor has a word that no one else can say since he is most in touch with the life of the parish. Esko Murto takes on the doctrines of election, the bondage of the will, and original sin that naturally offend all sinners. The answer to the question of election (“am I elect?”) is that preaching frees the conscience, brings the promise home to sinners, secures them in salvation; to the “bondage of the will,” preaching imparts Christ and so frees the despairing conscience; and, with original sin, we can be forgiven that we are unable to offer perfect contrition.

Realizing that many parishioners are in grief, Jeremiah Johnson advocates that we should preach from the lament psalms precisely because “they do not peddle easy answers or seek to resolve the eschatological tension between the present age and the age to come. . . . [T]he laments are also brazenly confident not only in the Lord’s past faithfulness, but especially in his future action” (238). Recognizing that most preachers care for souls, Jakob Appell develops the metaphor of preacher as “physician for the sick in spirit.” Ultimately preachers are not mere healers but share a word that unlocks death and hell (256). Again, appealing to truth, Daniel Schmidt notes that there are many methods for preaching, but ultimately a sermon is not to be judged by its method but its theology. Finally, Gottfried Martens unguardedly shares the exigencies of the preparation process for preaching. With time, the steps can be internalized. Sermons are best when memorized. “In memorizing the sermon the preacher steps, to a certain degree, into the shoes of the hearers, for that which lacks clarity of thought cannot easily be memorized and similarly will have a hard time sticking with the hearers. In being memorized the sermon is honed to a final sharp edge that also makes it better for the hearers to follow” (296).

These essays are of the highest caliber. The only way to have improved this book would have been for each author to have published a model sermon alongside his essay. That is where the rubber hits the road. Not many authors here refer to the “goal, malady, means” approach to homiletics, but I have puzzled over the fact that Luther’s sermons tend to be expository, didactic, personal, and direct. Luther never has a three-point sermon (which I ever heard as a child) nor does he have a sermon proportioned as half law and half gospel. Law and gospel shine through Luther’s sermons, but only as he exposits the word of God. Nor is Luther shy of admonition, as Voigt would remind us, especially when he preaches on the epistles.

Need a recharge in your confidence in the ability of God’s word to “bring home the goods”? Give this book a sustained reading and allow it to unsettle your despondency about preaching and empower you to joyfully proclaim the good news.

Mark C. Mattes

Grand View University

Des Moines, IA

Book Review: Dona Gratis Donata

Dona Gratis Donata: Essays in Honor of Norman Nagel on the Occasion of His Ninetieth Birthday.  Edited by Jon D. Vieker, Bart Day, and Albert B. Collver III.  Manchester, MO: The Nagel Festschrift Committee, 2015. Xiv + 309 pages.

Few scholars receive the honor of two Festschrifts.  Norman Nagel is one of them.  And Every Tongue Confess was presented to Nagel in honor of his sixty-fifth birthday.  Dona Gratis Donata is in honor of his ninetieth birthday.  The first book presents outstanding essays furthering Nagel’s legacy.  The second, in my judgment, sets the gold bar in festschrifts, at least for confessional Lutherans.  Not only does each essay build on the theological legacy of those topics most important to Nagel, such as Christology, liturgy, hymnody, Hermann Sasse, and ministry, but each one is both finely-crafted and rich with insights.  If you think you’ve mastered Lutheran theology, read this book.  You’ll be proven wrong.  You will find some angle or perspective on Luther and the Confessions which is new.  

The best way to review this book is to provide a snippet from each essay which hopefully will offer a sense of the book’s excellence as a whole.  William Cwirla presents the classroom Nagel who had internalized a Socratic approach to theology, never spoon-feeding, but eager to get his students to weigh the sources and publicly defend their positions.  Cwirla notes that Nagel’s confessionalism, unlike Reformed theology, offers not a logically consistent systematization of faith but instead honors the grammar of faith through a catechetical or topics approach to theology (1).  The gospel sets limits on human reason’s ability to systematize.  Likewise, Nagel teaches us to place Luther’s various theological positions within their contexts, since the anti-papal Luther can sound, at times, like a Schwärmer, while the anti-Schwärmer Luther can sound like a papist (5).  Rudolph Blank describes visiting Nagel in the Convalescent Home where he resides.  Insightfully he notes that for Nagel prayer is never a chore but always a struggle (16), surely a prayer life with which many of us can identify.  

David Maxwell builds on Nagel’s work on Luther’s Christology, particularly Jesus’ Cry of Dereliction, and so alters how divine impassability should be understood.  God is not in need of or dependent on anything in his creation, but in Jesus’ death God the Son bears not only human sin but also divine wrath.  So, Jesus’ atonement does not square with a Platonism in which God is completely unaffected by the world, at least in the person and ministry of the Son.  Now, the doctrine of divine impassibility is not completely thrown out; after all, for Nagel, God is “always the one doing the verbs” (20), is always active with respect to man.  But building on the church father Cyril of Alexandria’s comments on the Cry of Dereliction, Jesus makes human forsakenness his own “and puts himself in the position where he can address God as one forsaken, just like the rest of the human race” (29).  This he does “not as an expression of suffering but as an invocation of the Father’s graciousness” (29).  While Cyril fails to fully break with Platonism, he certainly shows us how in the person of the Son one of the members of the Trinity suffered divine wrath for the sake of human salvation.  Kent Heimbigner develops the theodicy of an earlier church father than Cyril, Athanasius.  He notes that for Athanasius evil does not exist as human nature has been created by God.  Instead, evil is a result of the misuse of human will.  What is clear is that Athanasius’ approach is incompatible with Manicheism.  

In light of Luther’s translation of Ephesians 4:12, Brian Mosemann takes on the Pietistical cliché that “everyone is a minister” (48) and notes that the office of ministry is a gift and not a right, and through which the means of grace is administered to sinners for the building up of the body of Christ (59).  In a provocative article, Jonathan Mumme contrasts the medieval view of ministry in which the clergy exercised power over the laity, from that of today in which the laity exercise power over the clergy.  In a confessional perspective, the power of the church is a “pneumatic reality constantly locating itself in the world, without being of the world, or impinged by its imperium,” especially for administering God’s gracious gifts (79).  Naomichi Masaki builds on his work on nineteenth-century German Church administrator Theodor Kliefoth.  Masaki notes that faith is “never autonomous” (95) and that it is in the means of grace where sinners find a “concrete place” where they can meet their Lord (99).  Thomas Winger defends the reading of the epistle lesson in the divine service as not adiaphoral but instead as an apostolic response to the Son’s sending of the Spirit to guild the church and empowering apostolic witness in the world.  Charles Henrickson (tune by Henry Gerike) offers a hymn in honor of Nagel’s ministry, “Always More than We can Measure,” highlighting the triune work of delivering good news in word and sacrament to Christians.

Reacting against the Danish Pietist Erik Pontoppidan’s catechism that urges sinners not to “blindly depend” on baptism as if “true repentance and faith” were not required, Eugene Boe claims that “It [baptism] is a water word that does not recoil from the dirt of sin but seeks it out that it may wash it away resulting in a cleansing that passes the inspection of the law” (138).  Al Collver notes that unlike modern ecumenical approaches to the “real presence” of Christ in the Lord’s Supper which pit Christ’s “person” against his “body and blood” (162), even, as in the case of the Arnoldshain Theses disassociate the person of Christ from the body and blood (165) that such separation is abstract, artificial, and unscriptural.  Joel Brondos says that overall Luther’s view of suffering the cross as a path not to be sidestepped overturned the Augustinian favoring of the Christian life as continuous progress from matters “lower” to ones “higher” (177).  Hence, the sacrament should not be understood as a sign (signum) but as a testament (testamentum) and the gospel is not configured through dualism of lower and higher but paradox, the “higher” coming as the “lower,” (181), incarnationally seen asthe infinite as capable of the finite.  John Pless illustrates cross-bearing as endemic to those in church vocations, modeled after Herman Sasse, who suffered hardships as he confessed Christian faith before both Nazis and union Protestant Church in Germany.

Charles Arand develops a sacramental approach to creation, based on Luther, and seeing all creation as filled with wonder and mystery, opened for the eyes of faith for delight.  Geral Krispin develops the theology embedded in the hymnody of Nicolai, highlighting forgiveness granted in the Lord’s Supper as the basis for communion with Christ and the saints, both here and hereafter (231).  Jon Vieker notes that C F W Walther’s heritage in hymnody occasionally fell short of orthodox doctrine since some hymns of the Pietists included in his hymnbook assumed an “internalizing of spirituality” (273).  William Weedon notes though that hymns written by Reformed, Roman, or Anglican authors can be appropriated in church when distinct Lutheran confessional criteria are maintained (288).  Finally, Norman Nagel’s famous essay “Heresy, Doctor Luther, Heresy!” is reprinted in this Festschrift.  Nagel’s point is that Western Christologies of the ancient church fall short of the truth of the incarnation since they wish to configure the relation between the divine and the human in the one person of Christ in terms of proportion.  But Christ is not to be understood as a man in God or from God but a man who is God (306).  Luther’s est conveys the truth that in Christ the creator is the creature (308).

These essays in honor of Nagel are brilliant, conveying a loyalty to the Lutheran tradition and commending it to the world as the best way to convey the gospel.  They merit your diligence and attention.

Mark Mattes

Grand View University

Des Moines, IA

Issue 25-1: Reading John's Gospel

Preface

“For God so loved the world . . . ” LOGIA readers will recognize that passage from John’s Gospel; many of them have known it since their earliest days of devotions at home or Sunday School. Perhaps they have sung it in hymns or anthems. It is a foundational passage that shapes even the most carefully constructed statements on the Trinity, Christology, and justification. 

John’s Gospel is different from the Synoptics. He presents the person and words of Jesus Christ in a manner that has inspired the church to represent him with the symbol of the eagle, soaring “close to the sun,” with an eye that sees with the greatest clarity. Luther, in his 1522 Preface to the New Testament, extols the Fourth Gospel: 

If I had to do without one or the other—either the works or the preaching of Christ—I would rather do without the works than without his preaching. For the works do not help me, but his words give life, as he himself says (John 6:63). Now John writes very little about the works of Christ, but very much about his preaching, while the other evangelists write much about his works and little about his preaching. Therefore John’s Gospel is the one, fine, true, and chief gospel, and is far, far to be preferred over the other three and placed high above them. (LW 35:362) 

In Eric Chafe’s study, J. S. Bach’s Johannine Theology: e St. John Passion and the Cantatas for Spring 1725, the author suggests that Luther may have been drawn to the qualities that lend this Gospel “a spiritual, meditative, even mystical quality, as opposed to the narrative character of the Synoptic Gospels” (p. 110). These qualities continue to engage the reader, and the reader’s imagination. Those who wrote by inspiration opened our eyes to eternal mysteries, but they did not write works that need a secret mystical key for our understanding. They used human words that can be understood by humanity, despite the passage of centuries. Still, we continue to ask, what do the words mean? What did Jesus mean? Why did John record it the way he did? What did John mean? How have others understood these words? Was Luther always correct in his interpretation? Does it matter? 

These questions may seem to border on hermeneutic impertinence or impropriety, but they are increasingly a part of the current conversation when readers, preachers, and scholars en- counter the words of the Fourth Gospel. This issue is, finally, about words and their value and reliability in a time in which we are increasingly led to believe that all meaning is relative and conditioned by personal experience. 

Below, Armand Boehme leads us through a study of John 6. Here we have an example of what has been called the “historical-grammatical” approach to exegesis. Boehme encourages the reader to look at the words using this Renaissance methodology, which has been the bedrock for the Lutheran understanding of Scripture for centuries. 

Patrick James Bayens presents an overview of John based on the literary key of the concluding verses. In this essay the author suggests that the entire Gospel is best understood in light of John 20:30–31 and John 21:24–25. These verses, along with the Evangelist’s eyewitness testimony, John 19:34–35, are taken to indicate John’s desire to draw his readers into the present and abiding life offered by the risen Christ in the sacraments of Holy Baptism and Eucharist. 

In “Educational Horizons in Wilhelm Löhe” author Wolfhart Schlichting guides us through Löhe’s homiletical exegesis by an overview of the Epistle Sermons of 1858 and the 1866 sermons on Holy Communion. John 6 is the object of special attention, framed by Löhe’s concern for preaching that would create religious formation (Bildung) through personal application and inward experience. In his preaching Löhe suggests that Luther may have been mistaken in his understanding of the “Bread of Life” chapter, which, to some extent, impoverished Luther’s presentation of the benefits, the spiritual justifying power, of the sacramental eating and drinking. 

Finally, “JDDJ and Its Official Discussion in the Finnish Lutheran Church: A Clarification or an Obscuration?” highlights the issues and challenges presented by the “limits” of language in contemporary theological discourse, especially when words are the pathstones towards “reconciled diversity” in Christian communities that have used the same words to describe differing theologies for generations. Simo Kiviranta and Timo Laato’s essay merits a careful read. How can we behold the glory of the Word made flesh if the syllables which bring that glory to our eyes are more quicksand than foundation stone? 

This issue of LOGIA highlights aspects of that ongoing conversation about the strengths and limitations of human language. Perhaps the reader will consider again the importance of clarity and continuity in exegetical methods and our words about God, especially if we wish to fly on the wings of an eagle into the brilliant light of the Sun of Righteousness. 

Dennis Marzolf 


To purchase this edition of LOGIA, click here.

Book Review: The World That Then Was

Luther Reed: The Legacy of a Gentleman and a Churchman by Philip H. Pfatteicher (Minneapolis: Lutheran University Press), 2015.

The shock of the past is how utterly unlike our own time it is. The shock of the recent past is how quickly it became so unlike our own. This brief biography of Luther D. Reed by the liturgical scholar Philip Pfatteicher is an exercise in justification, an attempt to provide a fresh analysis of Reed’s relevance for the present day. It succeeds in this but not because the line between today and Reed’s day is straight and highly visible.

Reed was born a few years after the Civil War to a parish pastor in suburban Philadelphia and spent his entire life in Pennsylvania. His brief trips of liturgical and artistic reconnaissance in Europe are the exceptions that prove the rule. His father’s parishes included several stops in suburban Philadelphia, the upper Susquehanna Valley, and in Lancaster, where Reed took his BA and MA at Franklin and Marshall College. He attended the Mount Airy Seminary and served two parishes near Pittsburgh for a total of ten years before being recalled to Mount Airy in 1906 to oversee the building and operation of Krauth Memorial Library, named for C.P. Krauth, the founding father of the General Council and the Seminary to which Reed devoted the great majority of his life.

This Eastern Lutheran world was German by descent but English in language and American in outlook. It was 150 years old when Reed was born and intimately connected to the country from before its founding. By Reed’s birth it was so devoted to the thought and life of the past that it had outstripped its own fathers in that devotion. Krauth had repudiated the theology of the seminary at Gettysburg at which his father had taught. Reed and other proponents of the Common Service would promote and promulgate a liturgical service and standard hitherto unseen in the United States. In his pastorate and in his writing and activity throughout his life Reed represented well the spirit of recovery and renaissance in doctrine and especially worship that was in the General Council and at Mount Airy from their founding. This spirit may rightly be criticized as “romantic,” a term Tappert used for Reed, but in its intense desire to bring the best of the past into the present, it often succeeded, changing American Lutheran liturgy decisively and in the chapel overseen by Reed, modeling that change for the church.

It was the world that then was, and from the postbellum era down to the early 1960s it prevailed. Reed was a large part of that, building up the library at Philadelphia with funds from an incredibly generous layman he had known in Pittsburgh, enriching the worship life of the Seminary and promoting that richness for his students over a half-century, guiding the Seminary after the sudden death of its scholarly light, C.M. Jacobs. All of these duties came as surprises to the self-deprecating Reed. There is much to appreciate and to revisit in this slim volume: the rise of liturgical interests among American Lutheran pastors, the churchmanship Reed exhibited in his tireless service, the broad artistic tastes he had and cultivated in his students. The best part of the book, though, is Reed’s rebuttal of Theodore Tappert’s 1964 History of the Philadelphia Seminary.

Pfatteicher includes Tappert’s acerbic summation of Reed’s life and works and then gives the reader the entirety of Reed’s nine-page, semi-public response to Tappert. It is a marvel of cutting wit, but it is above all a ninety-one-year-old man’s justification of his deeds. Reed believes Tappert was scholarly to the exclusion of churchmanship, perfunctory in the liturgy to the destruction of the Seminary’s chapel services, focused on books to the detriment of humans. He cites the fathers, Krauth, H.E. Jacobs, Schmauk, and many other earlier lights, as those who hoped in the future of confessional English-language American Lutheranism. Reed senses that his part was to carry on that legacy of renewal into his day of work and the realms of liturgy, hymnody, and church architecture. As you read, you can feel that world slipping away. He had outlived his world.

That is no justification of Tappert’s malevolence. It is a recognition that by Reed’s death in the early 1970s, the world outside and inside the church had changed so drastically as to be unrecognizable. The change was a deluge, not a development. The reader is surprised to learn that Service Book and Hymnal in 1955 was Reed’s second major hymnal on which he had worked and was in its time the longed-for appearing of Muhlenberg’s fabled “one book” that would bring about the one Lutheran church body in America so many then wished to see. One is surprised because the book to which Pfatteicher contributed so much, 1978’s Lutheran Book of Worship, is now thought to have been that book, and it itself is now obsolete even in the church bodies that used it, not to speak of those that never did. Reed promoted the Common Service, now almost forgotten in the successors to his own church body, and with LCA President Franklin Clark Fry vastly preferred Jacobean English to all others. These are all liturgical reflections of an Eastern Lutheranism that then ordained only men, officially communed only Lutheran Christians, and celebrated the Divine Service only according to a few different musical settings of the Common Service of 1888.

When one lives almost a century, he is sure to see change, but Reed lived to see a new world. Yet he was not a Columbus, nor do his books remain valuable because they herald changes to come. One can still read The Lutheran Liturgy or Worship for the same reason one might read Krauth’s The Conservative Reformation or Jacobs’ dogmatics. They are valuable in themselves and historically as witnesses to a world and a seminary and a tradition of churchmanship now gone, though buildings and names remain for now. He was the last man of the world that then was, parts of which survive in unexpected places. If he isn’t Columbus, he may be Montezuma. The Common Service is still used in American Lutheranism, but not by his direct heirs. Krauth and Schmauk are still read by some, but perhaps not so much anymore inside Krauth Memorial Library. This book is valuable to know the world before the deluge, especially if it is not your particular ancestral strain of American Lutheranism. It is also valuable to see what may be recovered from the past, as Krauth and Jacobs and Beale Schmucker and in his own way Luther Reed did in their day.

Adam Koontz

Mount Calvary Evangelical Lutheran Church (LCMS)

Lititz, Lancaster County, PA

Preaching Not to Kill God

—by Joel P. Meyer

When Stanley Hauerwas writes in his memoir that, “I live most of my life as if God does not exist,”[1] he makes more than a personal confession. He captures the cultural mood that frames Christian belief and practice in much of North America. Most of us can live perfectly coherent lives without ever once thinking about God. This does not mean that we have stopped believing in God or even that we have stopped going to church. It only means that Christians often do not take God very seriously in their own belief and practice. One way of expressing this mood is to say that God is dead. God no longer has constructive force and authority in our lives. In this paper, I will argue that God will have no constructive force and authority as long as the central form of Christian discourse about God, apostolic preaching, is eclipsed. In order to make this argument I will first demonstrate that our mood reflects an inversion of authority. Human beings assume the authority to give life and meaning to God. Then, I will argue that failing to distinguish between what Gerhard Forde calls explanation and proclamation reinforces this condition. Finally, I will suggest that a recovery of the Triune God’s authority will require that Christian preaching be apostolic in nature.


Whatever Happened to God?

Already in the late nineteenth century, Friedrich Nietzsche realized that an epochal change had taken place, even though it had gone unnoticed by most. He saw that the basic structure of Western life and thought had turned upside down. God was no longer the source and ground of everything that exists. Instead, human beings had taken the place of God by assigning themselves the authority to give meaning and to determine truth.[2] In the Middle Ages, for example, the unquestioned assumption about the world was that the God of the Bible created it.[3] Everything that happened was explained in reference to his will and purposes, which seemed to permeate all things. But that clear and shining presence had darkened. And in God’s place, we human beings now stand as the source and ground of existence, even the existence of God.

One way Nietzsche expressed this change was to say that God is dead, and probably his most famous expression of God’s death can be found in a short tale he calls, “The Madman.” The story begins with a deranged man yelling out in the market place that God is dead and we are his killers. The man, in this case, is not an atheist but a reporter, telling us that the God who was once alive and well is now a decomposing corpse. Nietzsche’s sharp prose captures the magnitude of the event. The madman asks in amazement, “How could we drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What were we doing when we unchained the earth from its sun? Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving? Away from all suns? Are we not plunging continually? Backward, sideward, forward, in all directions?” The point is straightforward. If God is God, then God alone is necessary. Everything else is contingent on God. So without God, we have no orientation; nothing on which to base our judgments about what is good and evil or true and false except our own will to choose. But that is just the problem. Contingent creatures have killed God by making themselves the highest authority. The madman puts it this way: “Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?”[4]

The problem Nietzsche identifies is not that we Westerners no longer believe in God. Rather, the way we believe in God no longer assumes that God is the ultimate authority.  One example of our condition can be found in a book by Christian Smith and Melinda Lundquist Denton called Soul Searching.[5] The book summarizes the results of a large scale survey conducted by the National Study of Youth and Religion. Surprisingly, they report that American teenagers are fairly active and conventional participants in religious practices. Teens follow closely the habits of their parents, they have a generally positive attitude toward religion, and they participate in formal religious practices quite regularly on average. But at the same time, these same teenagers are extremely inarticulate about what they believe, they have great difficulty noticing what difference their beliefs make in their own lives, and they have a negative attitude to those who would pattern their life according to a set standard of beliefs. So while American teens are religious, “religion actually appears to operate much more as a taken-for-granted aspect of life, mostly situated in the background of everyday living, which becomes salient only under very specific conditions.”[6] 

This does not mean religion is unimportant, but only that it is important in a particular way. Religion still draws American teens insofar as it makes them happy and helps them get what they want out of life. “What legitimates the religion of most youth today is not that it is the life-transformative, transcendent truth, but that it instrumentally provides mental, psychological, emotional, and social benefits that teens find useful and valuable.”[7] This attitude is so pervasive among American teenagers that Smith and Denton summarizes their findings by suggesting that teens share one dominant kind of religion. Smith and Denton call it “Moralistic Therapeutic Deism.”[8] This form of religion has three major components. First, it has a moralistic element: religion provides the impetus for being good, which naturally leads to happy and successful lives. Second, it has a strictly therapeutic element: religion helps teens feel better about themselves. And third, this religion believes in a certain type of God, one who is not demanding or an active part of their lives, but one who shows up when they need him to resolve a problem or give them help. 

The implications for the way American teens treat God are enormous. Rather than providing the beliefs and practices that make the world shine forth with God’s will and order, Moralistic Therapeutic Deism operates as a salve for teenage life. God is not important because he is the way, the truth, and the life. God is important insofar as he helps teens cope, insofar as they find him valuable or useful. If Smith’s findings are accurate, the madman is exactly right. God is dead. American teens have not stopped believing in God, but the form of their belief treats God as little more than a therapist. God is merely someone who helps teens make their way through life rather than the One who works life, death, and all in all. Put another way, human beings have the authority to assign meaning and life to God. But a God whose meaning and importance depends on the value humans find in him is a dead God.

The way American teens treat God is not unique, however. It only reflects the small place God has within the larger patterns of American culture. Building on the work of Alasdair MacIntyre and Robert Bellah, theologian John Wright identifies two poles of typical American life—the managerial and the therapeutic. “The public, managerial realm seeks efficiency in a competitive economic marketplace.”[9] In this realm, the most important concern is the bottom line. The goal of this realm is productivity. Managers, whose sole purpose is to match means to ends in order to achieve maximum efficiency, dominate this realm. Humans, along with other materials, are resources for the maintenance and growth of organizations. The managerial realm is impersonal and competitive, and often physically and emotionally draining. So the therapeutic realm exists to compensate for the toll of the managerial realm. “The private, therapeutic realm provides personal affirmation, meaning, self-fulfillment and expression—what has come recently to be called ‘spirituality.’”[10] This realm consists of all kinds of therapists, who help us cope with the impersonal managerial realm by giving us personal support and encouragement that heals or reenergizes us to go back to work. 

By marking out these two poles, Wright is not suggesting anything profound. The give and take between the managerial and therapeutic is as basic to American life as the pursuit of a job that pays us enough to enjoy life apart from work. What’s disturbing, though, is the place the church has within this cycle. Wright observes that typically, “Churches exist as therapeutic safe houses in an impersonal world,”[11] and pastoral care aims to mend exhausted and broken lives with psychological support couched in terms of divine love. Within this cycle, God only fits within the therapeutic realm. God does not help us make managerial decisions, for instance. God, in this case, only helps us get by as he gives us personal encouragement and individual purpose. God is nothing more than something in which we find personal value. 

These examples demonstrate what it means to say that God is dead. In typical American life, God is significant only insofar as we find personal value in him. Therefore, we stand over-against God as the authorities who give God meaning and significance. So in the remainder of the paper I want to ask this question: How does Christian speech about God reinforce or overcome this condition? In order to answer this question, I will turn from cultural reflection to systematic theology, and from Nietzsche to Gerhard Forde.


Explaining God to Death

Throughout much of his work, Forde worries that Christians have stopped observing Luther’s distinction between God preached and God not preached.[12] According to Forde, the distinction works this way: Apart from the preaching of the gospel we cannot get a grasp on God. God does many things for which we have no explanation. If God is a living God, he controls and effects all things. But that means God cannot be easily excused from tornadoes, car accidents, tumors, and viruses. God works life, death, and all in all. God as such presents a problem for us because he cannot be handled, contained, or explained. When a loved-one dies unexpectedly in a car accident, for example, we can say some nice and pious things about God. We might say something like “God did it because he wants something good to come out of it in the long run.” But explanations like this do not hold water. It does not take long before we realize that our explanations of God just make God all that more imposing. If God wanted something good to come out of a death, could not God have done it without killing the person? We might try to say the opposite: God had nothing to do with it all. But then God lacks either the will or power to stop it. 

 The point is that God refuses our explanations. God simply is who he is and does what he does and nothing we say about it all will ever change or resolve that. God is much too great and abstract for us to handle. But that is just the point Forde wants to make. Since God is God, the only thing we can do about it is be silent and listen to God when he speaks for himself. The only way to deal with the abstractness of God is to let God break through it all and talk to us. God does exactly that in the preaching of the gospel. God breaks through the abstractness and actually speaks. “In and through Jesus, the crucified and risen one, a peculiar band has been unleashed on the world, commissioned and authorized to speak, not merely about, but for God.”[13] 

Forde calls this speech on behalf of God “proclamation.” “The proclamation is…the divine address, speaking not my words but the word God has commissioned me to speak, not what I think, but what God has ordered me to say.”[14] The preacher who proclaims stands in God’s place as God’s commissioned representative to speak on God’s behalf. Absolution is the paradigmatic example: “In the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ, I forgive you.” Because God has authorized someone to speak on God’s behalf, this person’s word to you is God’s word, as if God were standing here right now speaking to you face to face. The opposite of proclamation, however, is explanation. Rather than speaking words from God, explanation speaks words about God. Explanation says something in general. Rather than actual absolution, explanation says something like “God is a forgiving God.” Or, “God’s eternal disposition is merciful.”

Now Forde does not want to say that explanation is bad, but only that it has its place; namely, to prepare us for proclamation. We start running into trouble when explanations take the place of proclamation. For example, it is one thing to say about God that his eternal disposition is merciful. But just what does that mean when my brother dies in a car accident. Has God in his mercy decided to kill my brother? When explanations take the place of proclamation, the concrete reality of God more or less drops out of the picture. Rather than letting God be God in both his unsearchable majesty and his own spoken word, God becomes an idea that we can either assent to or not. Forde puts it this way: “Lectures about God are substituted for preaching God. Our personal difficulties with God are assuaged with a little theological tinkering—perhaps a new name, a new image, a new theology more to our liking.”[15] 

We should not miss the therapeutic undertones of Forde’s point. When an idea about God takes the place of God himself, whether in his absolute majesty or in his proclaimed word, God begins to bend to our demands and desires. Take again the example of a tragedy. If we start with the explanation that God in general is merciful, it doesn’t take long for us to start questioning that generalization. Is this how God’s displays his mercy? Well, once we have taken a step down the road of explanation, it is hard to turn back. Now, it seems, we have to give a reason why this tragedy happened that coheres with God being merciful in general. Maybe we say next that it happened because God wants something good to come out of it in the long run. Maybe that will satisfy us. 

In reality, though, our explanations rarely get that far. Usually we are satisfied to hear something nice about God in general on Sunday mornings and go on our way. “God loves sinners.” “God’s Son has paid the price for our sin.” “God forgives.” Speech like that is often enough to help us feel better about the one who does all in all. Once we have God in the grips of an explanation, God doesn’t seem as threatening. Explanations seem to secure us from God’s unpredictability. God is confined, predictable, and even rational, someone we can feel safe about. And that is just the problem. Wrapped in an explanation, God poses no serious interruption to our lives. We can go on just as we did before, but now with the comforting thought that God isn’t really the threat he seems to be. Explanation turns out to be good therapy. 


Preaching that Kills God and the Preaching of the Living God

There are lots of ways that explanation takes the place of proclamation, but none does more harm than in preaching. Christian preaching is supposed to be the place where proclamation happens, where God’s ordained servant speaks on God’s behalf just as he has been authorized and sent to do. But often, preaching tries to convey an idea about God. There are many ways that either explanation takes over the pulpit or proclamation happens there, but I want to focus on one fundamental instance: the preacher’s disposition toward the scriptural text.

When a sermon aims for explanation, the preacher will approach the text of scripture as a resource for information about God, as if there exists within it a kernel of truth that needs to be excavated and conveyed. The preaching task then consists of two stages. First, the preacher uses interpretive skills to locate that kernel of truth, which is thought to be the real meaning of the text. Depending on one’s religious preference, this kernel can be doctrinal in nature (the text reveals a doctrinal truth), or exegetical (the text reveals the author’s intent), or even moral/religious (the text reveals a truth about life). Second, once the preacher locates the central truth within a passage, the preacher then finds a rhetorically skillful way to convey that truth to his hearers. Such rhetorical skill aims to bridge the gap between the truth within the text and the hearer. Usually, the preacher bridges the gap by starting with an illustration that is attention grabbing and easy to grasp. Once that basic connection has been made with the hearer, the sermon goes on to show how the passage of scriptural text fits with the illustration. In the end, the preacher stands in the pulpit as a conveyor of information about God derived from the text.[16] 

Forde comments that,

The basic presupposition for such oral communication tends to be the freedom of choice. The words provide information about God and Christ which one is expected to appropriate or accept by an act of will. One may, of course, insist that such choosing is aided by grace or the workings of the Spirit…But even so the presupposition remains the same, that of the continually existing subject making its choice over against a battery of facts.[17] 

So rather than confronting us with God’s own present speech, the preacher associates God with an idea that we have to be enticed to believe on the grounds of the rhetorical persuasiveness of the sermon. If the sermon succeeds and we happen to find the idea persuasive, then that is exactly the problem: we find the idea persuasive. God fits into what we already know about the world and we remain the authorities on God.

If preachers want to maintain God’s authority over-against us, if they want their speech to honor God as a living God, then they must ask the question, “What does the text of scripture authorize me to say on God’s behalf?” When preachers proclaim from the pulpit, they have the authority and the obligation to speak in the stead and by the command of God himself. 

Speaking on behalf of God is doing something different than conveying information about God. In his book Divine Discourse: Philosophical Reflections on the Claim that God Speaks,[18] Nicholas Wolterstorff makes a helpful distinction between divine revelation and divine speech. According to Wolterstorff, the claim that God reveals something is different than the claim that God speaks. Divine revelation is an act by which God discloses some item of knowledge about himself that was hidden or previously unknown. That is to say, divine revelation is the act of conveying information. This might occur when God uses a written text in order to deliver a message. Or this might occur indirectly through God’s actions in history. In either case, divine revelation is characterized by the communication or transference of some item of knowledge. 

Divine speech, on the other hand, is something quite different. When talking about divine speech, Wolterstorff has in mind here what J. L. Austin calls illocutionary acts, such as asserting, commanding, promising, or asking. According to Wolterstorff’s account of speech, God does not simply convey information to us. God enters into a moral relationship with a person by assuming a normative standing. He explains,

Imagine, for example, a field worker uttering in the hearing of his fellow worker the words, “would you hand me a drink of water,” thereby requesting the other to hand him a drink of water. The standing of having issued that request is now normatively ascribed to him. And part of what thus having that standing entails is that if the addressee understands what was said, and the speaker’s request is not undercut for him, then the addressee is (prima facie) obligated to hand the speaker a drink of water…By uttering that sentence, the speaker has altered the moral relationship between himself and his fellow worker.[19]

One condition that would undercut the speaker’s request would be that the speaker does not have the authority to take such a normative stance. For example, an observer in the stands of a baseball game might declare that the runner was out at first. But the game will go on regardless of what the fan said because only the umpire has the authority to take up such a normative standing.

Divine speech, then, happens when God uses words to enter into an obligating relationship with someone. A principle instance of divine speech is when God makes a promise. Oswald Bayer, commenting on Austin’s work in reference to Luther, helpfully describes what takes place when God makes a promise. “What happens when this is said or heard? I place myself under an obligation. An activity is described, but it is not what is asserted by an uninvolved observer who says, ‘He is making a promise,’ but is rather an activity that actually constitutes a certain state of affairs. A relationship is created thereby that did not exist previously.”[20] So when God speaks, he does not merely use words to transmit knowledge about himself. God uses words to act in the present upon another. God takes a stand over-against us as a living and contemporary person that we have to deal with—a person who addresses us, and by his address obligates himself to us, and us to him.

When preaching aims at proclamation, the preacher will approach the text of scripture as directions on how to speak to his congregation on God’s behalf. Rather than serving as a resource for information, the scriptures authorize the preacher to stand in the pulpit as God’s own spokesperson. The task of the preacher, then, is to discern how God speaks through the scriptures. So the preacher must not simply ask what information about God lies at hand, but how God uses the scriptural text to speak.

How does the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ use the scriptures to speak? I can only sketch an answer to this question, and my basic description will try to follow the account given in the synoptic Gospels and especially Luke and Acts. The God of Israel sent Jesus to bring about God’s eschatological reign. Anointed by the Spirit, Jesus acted and spoke in the stead and by the command of this God. He healed the sick, cast out demons, and raised the dead and he absolved sinners of their sins. But Jesus’ own authority to speak and act on God’s behalf was challenged by the leaders of Israel. When Jesus would not back down from his claims to authority, they crucified him with the help of the Romans as a blasphemer: one who did not have the authority to speak and act on behalf of God. But God vindicated Jesus by raising him from the dead. Jesus then commissioned his disciples to go into the whole world with Jesus’ own authority to act and speak on his behalf—to forgive sins, to baptize, and to be witnesses to the things that had taken place concerning him so that all who believe in Jesus will be saved from the wrath of God’s final judgment. God sent Jesus to speak on God’s behalf. Jesus sent the apostles to speak on his behalf by bearing witness to the things God had done through Jesus. They considered their own words to be God’s words because just as God had commissioned Jesus, Jesus had commissioned them. The New Testament scriptures, then, are authoritative apostolic divine speech. God uses them to speak to us about his Son, so that we might trust in him and in his words.

Therefore, preaching will be proclamation when the preacher steps into the pulpit as part of the apostolic mission, speaking the apostolic word as he is commissioned by the scriptural text. Forde describes the mechanics of proclamation when he says, “the proclaimer should attempt to do once again in the living present what the text once did and so authorizes doing again.”[21] Exactly what that deed is will be determined by the individual text and the place it has within God’s purposes of speaking through the apostles to create a people for himself. That speech might be to make a promise concerning Christ. For instance, when Jesus promises in John 6:35 that, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst,” the preacher should aim to make the same promise about Jesus to his hearers. Or, the text might move to elect its hearers on God’s behalf, or to warn them of complacency, or both. For instance, in 1 Corinthians 10:1–13, Paul elects the Corinthians by typologically placing them within the story of Israel. Then he warns them not to put God’s election to the test. Then he promises that despite their unfaithfulness, God will be faithful. A preacher should aim to do the same to his hearers and speak in the present just as Paul spoke as an apostle of Jesus on behalf of God. 

In any case, when the preacher lets the scriptural text place him within the apostolic mission as God’s own spokesperson, God gets the final word. Rather than conforming to our own best ideas, God stands over-against us and speaks his own mind. If the Christian God is to be a living God, then, preachers need to fully embrace the apostolic mission for which they are ordained.



Rev. Joel P. Meyer is pastor of Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, Kingsland, Georgia


[1] Stanley Hauerwas, Hannah’s Child: A Theologian’s Memoir (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), x.

[2] Both my account of Nietzsche and my expression of the problem owe much to Martin Heidegger, “The Word of Nietzsche: ‘God Is Dead,’” in The Question Concerning Technology and Other Essays, ed. William Lovitt (New York: Harper, 1977), 53–112.

[3] See Hubert Dreyfus and Sean Dorrance Kelley, All Things Shining: Reading the Western Classics to Find Meaning in a Secular Age (New York: Free Press, 2011), 118–142, in their discussion of Dante.

[4] Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science, ed. and trans. Walter Kaufman (New York: Vintage Books, 1974),181–182.

[5] Christian Smith and Melinda Lundquist Denton, Soul Searching: The Religious and Spiritual Lives of American Teenagers (Oxford: Oxford University, 2005).

[6] Smith, Soul Searching, 130.

[7] Smith, Soul Searching, 154.

[8] Smith, Soul Searching, 162–170.

[9] John W. Wright, Telling God’s Story: Narrative Preaching for Christian Formation (Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity, 2007), 129.

[10] Wright, Telling God’s Story, 130.

[11] Wright, Telling God’s Story, 133.

[12] For Luther’s use of the distinction, see Martin Luther, The Bondage of the Will (1525), in Luther’s Works, vol. 33, ed. Philip S. Watson (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1972), 138–140.

[13] Gerhard O. Forde, “Whatever Happened to God? God Not Preached,” in The Preached God: Proclamation in Word and Sacrament, ed. Mark C. Mattes and Steven D. Paulson (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 44.

[14] Forde, “Whatever Happened to God,” 46.

[15] Forde, “Whatever Happened to God,” 38.

[16] See Gerhard O. Forde, Theology Is for Proclamation (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990), 152–55, as well as Wright, Telling God’s Story, 24.

[17] Forde, Theology, 147.

[18] Nicholas Wolterstorff, Divine Discourse: Philosophical Reflections on the Claim that God Speaks (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995).

[19] Wolterstorff, Divine Discourse, 84.

[20] Oswald Bayer, Martin Luther’s Theology: A Contemporary Interpretation, trans. Thomas H. Trapp (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), 51.

[21] Forde, Theology, 155.


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Hymn Summary: Advent 2

LO! HE COMES WITH CLOUDS DESCENDING (LSB 336)

Advent 2 (1 yr)

The brothers John and Charles Wesley saw that, according to Luther, music teaches the faith and imprints it strongly upon the heart. So he did in this hymn. The tune is new to LSB, but not to the text and a more beautiful pairing to the hymn.  The tune does what the text declares.  As the music descends so the text confesses “. . . with clouds descending.” As the congregation and musicians swell so we sing “Swell the triumph of His train, Alleluia . . .”  It is well worth learning if your parish has not yet undertaken the task. 
 
The hymn primarily pictures through song the words of Revelation 1:7: “Behold, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him, and all tribes of the earth will wail on account of him. Even so. Amen.”   Some slight editing has taken place from Wesley’s original which shows theological difference between the Methodists and Lutherans, “once for favored sinners slain,” now reads “Once for every sinner slain.”


On Jordan’s Bank the Baptist Cry (LSB 344)

Advent 2 (3 yr)
 
In light of the recent horrible attacks in Paris, our hymn brings specific comfort to those who mourn and pray.  Hear it well in the middle of tragedy and death, “On Jordan’s Bank the Baptist’s cry Announces that the Lord is nigh.”   The author Charles Coffin was a theologian, hymnist, and Frenchman who among other things served as Rector at the University of Paris.  
 
With these things on our minds, of particular note, verse four, “Lay on the sick Thy healing hand And make the fallen strong to stand,” but also verse three “We hail Thee as our Savior Lord, Our refuge and our great reward.”  So the Word of God speaks particularly to those who suffer most horrible things, as we together in song call out with the comfort that only Christ Jesus can give.
 
As the Church Year has different rhythms, John the Baptist is a central character during Advent with his preaching of repentance.   He signals the season’s penitential character, and prepares the Church for a time of joy: for some Christmas, for all Christians Christ’s return.  Certainly one result of tragedy all about us, is the encouragement to repent.  “What shall we do?” many wonder.  Our hymn provides the way,  “Then cleansed be every life from sin; Make straight the way for God within, And let us all our hearts prepare For Christ to come and enter there.” (vs. 2)
 
The great Lutheran composer Michael Praetorius’s hand is at work in the tune.  Charles Coffin also is the author of the first hymn in our hymnal (LSB 331) The Advent of our King.


Rev. Adrian N. Sherrill serves Trinity Lutheran Church, Denver, Colorado. 


As an extension of LOGIA, LOGIA Online understands itself to be a free conference in the blogosphere. As such, the views expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of LOGIA’s editorial board or the Luther Academy.

A Bold Church in an Age of Terrorism—Part III

—By Fredrik Sidenvall 

Translated by Bror Erickson 

Editor’s Note: This article is part of a three article series. Find part one here and part two here

Martin Chemnitz, like Martin Luther, has at the heart of his doctrine the discovery of the certainty of salvation. Torbjörn Johannsson explains in his insightful and inspiring doctoral dissertation how Martin Chemnitz in his great work “Examen concilii tridentinii” criticizes the Council of Trent for its decision that says that no one, “with the certainty of faith that cannot be mistaken is able to know that he receives the Grace of God.” The decision of Council of Trent will have the effect that “when men hear that even he who holds to Christ’s promise must remain in uncertainty they will begin to gather together all their works. Not content with the deeds that God orders in his commandments, they will instead turn to others like the invocation of the saints, supererogation, trading in indulgences, masses and merits. When these works still don’t give comfort during temptation, one has purgatory. Chemnitz calls the uncertainty taught by Trent a ‘horrible slaughter of conscience.’”

If we then turn to what Chemnitz expressly writes about the sacrament in his theological handbook, “enchiridion,” we see plainly where he puts the emphasis. This book is formatted like a catechism with questions and answers. Question 215 asks, “What is the essential thing that must be shared for it to be a sacrament of the New Testament?” Chemnitz’s response reads “Two things. First an external visible element or sign in a certain external ceremony or act, established and instituted by Christ through a special word and express command and which is bestowed upon the whole church with the purpose that it should be used to the end of the age. The second thing needed is a word or promise of grace united with the element in this act, namely (the word which says) that the sacrament was instituted by Christ with the purpose and benefit that through them with exterior means and visible witnesses he will hold forth, apply, bestow, confirm and personally seals to those using them in faith the promise of grace that is otherwise proclaimed and offered in the gospel to everyone in general.” Then he continues to describe the sacraments as weapons against spiritual terror in his answer to the question, “For what reason does Christ establish the sacrament of the word?” Answer: “So that our weak faith would be maintained and preserved in this manner, because our senses cannot so easily hold to the bare and naked word and firmly trust in it. For even if one does not mistrust the gospel’s universal promise when one listens to them, so it is yet so with a conscience that is disturbed plagued by temptations, that it usually falls into doubt as to whether the general promises also belong to and encompass him, and if he can and ought to apply them to himself. Therefore Christ who is rich in mercy has instituted external and visible sacraments to help our damage in this area; through these sacraments as such open and conspicuous testimony, he would deal with us and in this way as through such a highly secure seal and declaration testify that he certainly applies, confirms, and seals the gospel promises individually for those who use the sacrament in true faith.”

To this I will add that Christ has given us the sacraments even as weapons against the type of spiritual terror that is exerted by the spirit of lawlessness, he who wants to lull a man into a false security. At the entrance into God’s kingdom and to the Sacrament Christ’s word remains clear: repent and believe in the gospel, Mark 1:15. In Baptism the bubble of false security is burst when a sinner is crucified with Christ and the old man is killed and buried. To be dead is really a very good reason to not work in the service of sin. When our old employer calls us to work, a Christian can calmly answer: I am sorry I can’t work today, you understand I am dead, so I have to stay home with my Savior. In connection with the Sacrament of the Altar the apostles admonish us: “Let a person examine himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup.  For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment on himself.  That is why many of you are weak and ill, and some have died. But if we judged ourselves truly, we would not be judged. But when we are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world”(1 Corinthians 11:28-32 ESV). Through self-examination and confession the enemies first strategy is fought, and the conditions of false security are broken in repentance. 

Naturally, this should not be understood and applied in such a way that souls believe that degrees of their repentance are a prerequisite for the effect of the Sacraments or for the right to apply the gospel to themselves. It should destroy all. The mere desire to flee God’s wrath and receive God’s blessing instead, the desire receive life instead of death, is indeed sufficient incentive to accept the gospel. Tom Hardt helps us understand this when he writes: 

“When the fathers of the Lutheran Confessions want to summarize the difference in the faith that had arisen, they said,  ‘Leo X’s bull had condemned a very important teaching that all Christians ought to hold fast to and believe, namely that we shall trust that we have been released, not on the basis of our repentance, but upon the basis of Christ’s word:’ “and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Matthew 16:19 ESV). Here in this bull, which in fact is the Roman Institution’s condemnation of the Lutheran congregations as heretical, a chasm opens that separates faith from unbelief according to the Lutheran Confessions. Here the Roman teaching lays emphasis on human effectiveness in confession, namely the good works (penance) while for the Lutheran all emphasis is laid upon faith in the sacrament being instituted by Christ, he who gave the authority of the keys to the apostles . . . This Roman instruction that points to preparation must consequently also teach that because no one knows his own position, all forgiveness is also uncertain . . . What Rome never understood, and still doesn’t understand, is that the gospel (in all its forms) is God’s power of salvation for everyone who believes (Romans 1:16). In the perfect sacrifice that the gospel proclaims there is an eternal righteousness won once and for all, and when the Gospel comes to us in the Sacrament or in any other means of grace it requires faith and nothing but faith . . . This directs attention to the word that the pastor takes in his mouth and the sacrifice that he holds in his hand, and frees a person from all thoughts of effective preparation, the depth of repentance and a successful communion. The thought of successful communion, successful confession that always leave the individual floating between hope and despair, is replaced by the rock solid word, a sure release and the superabundant atoning sacrifice.” (Reference)

Here we see plainly that the point with the means of grace is certainty of salvation and victory over the monster of uncertainty, the worst of all terrorists. Against this background we can see the importance of first understanding communion in a sacramental manner as God’s perfect gift to us and not primarily in a sacrificial manner as our imperfect gift to God. It also stands clear that truth of Christ’s body and blood actually present in the bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper can never be emphasized enough, because it has a direct existential impact on the souls, namely this blessed certainty of participation in Christ’s eternal and perfect sacrifice. 

The basis for Luther’s boldness in the area of conscience through faith in grace and the means of grace is his boldness in the area of truth. The boldness in the area of truth has its basis in that scriptures are true and clear. Luther writes: “All the points of Christian doctrine must be such that they are not only fully certain in and of themselves but also confirmed by such clear scriptures that they stop the mouths of all.”

Contrary to many who have argued that Luther was estranged from dogmatic teaching and the authority of scripture, Luther says: I will hold fast for all eternity to what I have taught up to now, and say that whoever teaches otherwise or condemns me, he condemns God himself and must remain a child of hell. For I know that my teaching is not my teaching.” When Martin Luther stepped before the Diet of Worms with the whole world against him and spoke the powerful words “Here I stand, and I can do no other so help me God,” that was the church speaking with boldness.   

This boldness is grounded in the clarity of Scripture, in a pure and clear gospel and objectively effective means of grace.


As an extension of LOGIA, LOGIA Online understands itself to be a free conference in the blogosphere. As such, the views expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of LOGIA’s editorial board or the Luther Academy

Sermon on Psalm 46

—Preached by Oswald Bayer on the third to last Sunday of the Church Year (November 9, 2014) at the beginning of the ecumenical “Friedensdekade.”

Translated by Rev. Aaron Hambleton.

I.

    In a power struggle there is a struggle over power. Who wins? Chaos or the cosmos? Do conditions and equilibrium remain stable? Do the waters of chaos remain tamed? Or do they break forth so that in the end it is said, “And the earth was without form and void?” There is sufficient reason to fear. Who can truly say, “I am not afraid, ‘though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though the sea rages and foams and the mountains quake from its surging?’” Who can truly say, “I am not afraid, though the earth shakes, though a tsunami bury me in its surging and raging, though lightning strike me, though water drown me, though a boulder kill me in the mountains, though deep depression attack me, though cancer devour me?

    Of course it’s not only the voracious maw of nature that threatens. It’s also the powers of history. The social and political power struggles, the surges and waves of the peoples’ bloody turmoils of war, are like the surging and raging of nature. So says Isaiah about the chaos of history, “They thunder like the thundering of the sea! Ah, the roar of nations; they roar like the roaring of mighty waters! The nations roar like the roaring of many waters” (Is 17:12). That is historical reality. And the reality of world history is that it is a struggle of every man against every man, in life and death, to the point of mutual recognition. The affairs of people with each other does not always happen in peaceful exchanges–in conversation and compromise–rather it often painfully ends in the breaking off of communication; in murder, terror, and war; or at worst in genocide. What the Hutu and Tutsi peoples have done is not the only of its kind, rather it reveals the havoc, that threatens each and every one of us from within.

    No one can say that our Psalm is deluded concerning the world in which we live. It sees the world with radical sobriety, as it truly is: extremely endangered, threatened by the powers of chaos–the hostile powers of perdition. The world of nature and history does not consist by itself. It has in and of itself no stability. It is therefore untrustworthy.

    Last–but not least–my own self, formed by nature and history, lacks stability. The text does not explicitly speak of this. Yet we know this unreliable fellow from our own experience, as they also have their say in many Psalms–which know of people’s self-endangerment; of their fickle hearts, their foolhardy defiance, and abysmal despondency; and of situations, in which we are completely at loss and in which we find ourselves up to the neck. Psalm 69 laments, “The waters have come up to my neck. I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold; I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me” (Ps 69:1).

    Is there a power that resists such a deadly threat, such a destruction of life, such deserts and voids, such an aggressive Nothing? Is there a power that destroys this destruction? Definitively: is there a strongman, “who on the earth brings about such [holy, redemptive] destruction, who makes wars cease to the end of the earth,” who, “shatters bow and smashes spears and burns [war]chariots with fire?” Is there such a strongman, such a power? Certainly there are but only in hints–such as in the UN. We must not make light of the power and effort of our reason. Yet the anxious question still remains for the one who does not take this lightly: Will there ever be a final ending of war, an everlasting peace? Is it not a delusion, that we entertain the idea of an everlasting peace in the orientation of our acting as the necessary postulate of reason, which allows and causes the progress toward the goal of an everlasting peace? This is particularly important to ask today at the beginning of the ecumenical Friedensdekade

 

II.

    Our Psalm can therefore speak only so radically and unadorned of the threat of our life in this world, because the Psalm does not allow it the last just as the first word. Its absolute first word is “God”: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear…” So, from the start, this becomes the unwavering grounds of trust; the grounds of defiance against all threat; namely, the grounds, which above all want to be loved. And yet they also want to be sought after and requested, as Luther does in the face of impending war in 1529 with his prayer for peace, “Graciously grant us peace, Lord God, in our time. There is indeed none other who could fight for us than you, our God, alone,” (EG 421).

    There is only one, who fights in the struggle over power in favor of life, and who effectively and finally takes a stand against chaos and war. He did not do this in a distant, intangible past and does not do this (perhaps) in distant, intangible future. He does this here and now: “Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation,” (2 Cor. 6:2 ESV). He does this here and now, in the present and at a particular place: in Jerusalem.

    According to our Psalm, in counteraction and contradiction to the unstable Flood, which broke all orderliness, God established an eternal city. The epitome of stability, the cosmic, as well as social, order: Jerusalem, the city of peace, as its name already says. The second verse of the Psalm offers a contrasting picture to that of the first verse, it could not be any sharper or clearer: there the flaring, life destroying wave; here the controlled, soft flowing and life sparing water—in Luther’s translation: the fountain [Brünnlein] (cf. Ps 65:10)—there the chaos, here the cosmos created by God; there insecurity, here safety; there corruption, here salvation: “Creation” as foundation and preservation of community.

    Jerusalem is “the city of God,” “there is the saints habitation in the highest,” “there God is with her.” He has taken up residence in this city and her temple, only in Jerusalem, nowhere else. He has laid himself there in freedom, to let his name dwell only in her before all, yet only to allow himself to be found in His name. His name is the pledge and gift to be, “merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness,” (Ex 34:6, ESV). Overall there, where He and His name are heard aloud, is Jerusalem. This Jerusalem is certainly not the earthly Jerusalem, that in our days is without peace, divided, and contested, rather the heavenly, to us coming, and future Jerusalem, for which God is designer and builder (Heb 11:10). It is not the dwelling place of God that we build for him; it is rather the place of grace, the mercy seat, which he built for us, in which he became Man and dwelt among us (John 1:14). This “new” (Rev 3:12; 21:2) Jerusalem is not built by our hands from here to heaven like the Tower of Babel (Gen 11). It is rather God’s work alone, which comes here from above (Rev 3:12; 21:2; Gal 4:26; Heb 12:22), given to us from heaven and is presented: the Kingdom of God, God in his power, as mere gift!

    We have heard of the coming of the Kingdom of God: “Being asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, [Jesus] answeredthem, ‘The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be observed, nor will they say, “Look, there!” or, “Look, here!” for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you,” (Lk 17:20). The kingdom of God is not seen, rather it is heard.

    I am in the midst of you; the heavenly Jerusalem has already come to earth in me. “But if it is by the finger of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you,” (Lk 11:20). I fight for you against evil, chaos, nothing. “Be still and know that I am God,” the Lord of Sabaoth, the Lord of angelic hosts, the Almighty, I—Jesus Christ.

    Is this claim then not absurd? Crazy? The Almighty, “who makes wars cease in all the earth, who breaks the bow and shatters the spear; who burns war chariots with fire,” should this powerful prince of peace be identical with the powerless child in the manger and the powerless man on the cross? Should the fullness of God live dwell bodily (Col 2:9) in this, a finite and mortal man? The creator of heaven and earth, whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain in all its might, should he be identical with a creature, with this Jesus of Nazareth? The creator of heaven and earth, whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain in all its might, should he come to us here and now in a measly bite of bread and a tiny sip of wine and make his home with us (John 14:23)? Should here and now a single “little word” of a human preaching him decide the struggle for power and make ultimate peace?

    Yes, a single, inconspicuous, poor word derails, the whole chaotic demon, the “old evil” foe of life with his great might and many tricks (with which no man can compete): “one little word can fell him.”

    Obviously, the struggle for power will be fought and decided with completely unequal means: the raging sea will not be subdued through an even more terrible power, rather through gently flowing water; the terrible war will not be abolished through an even more terrible war, rather through God’s defenseless name of his mercy, through the inconspicuous, poor “little word” of an incarnated and crucified man, in whom God unattractively, indecently–scandalously–took up residence thus he became the eternal Jerusalem.

    This Jesus Christ is himself the motherly city, which rescues and protects me–as the hen her brood (Mt 23:37). “Though Satan would devour me,” says his powerful word and lets “angel guards sing o’er me: ‘This child of God shall meet no harm,’ ” (LSB 880:4).

    In this strong city Jerusalem you are motherly safe and sound in time and eternity. I, the Merciful One, am your trust and strength, help in greatest need, which have assailed you. Therefore be not afraid, though fear boils and bubbles like the primordial flood and robs you of consciousness. Therefore be not afraid, though you no longer understand and the great hope, which you had, sinks in the sea, though the most beloved person be taken from you and you are in danger of falling into nothingness. I, the Merciful One, am your trust and strength, help in the greatest need, which have assailed you.

 

III.

    Be still and know that I am God, your trust and strength, the Lord Sabaoth, “and there’s none other God,” (LSB 656:2). Trust in me! Me—and no other gods.

    What does this say–today, at the beginning of the Friedensdekade? We have even heard the great “Be not afraid!” of the eternal Jerusalem and less it—Lord willing—lives and reigns in our hearts. Be still, let the hands sink in, we can and should, because God alone fights for us (Ex 14:14). “With might of ours can naught be done, Soon were our loss effected” (LSB 656:2). Yet this state of peace is full of power: “The hands that in prayer are resting, those he makes strong in acting” (EG 457:11).

    The action of delivering earthly freedom, which is grounded in the state of peace and prayer, first lies in the dedication for a sober view of the world, in which we live. Its unfathomable endangerment and the struggle of the gods can’t be ignored. Despite the help of God “early in the morning,” on easter morning, and his triumph over death and powers hostile to life, these are–alas–not simply wiped away. As if no gods and lords with their threats and promises press us (1 Cor 8:5)! And so struggle and strife remain—up to the consummation of the world, in which we are no longer attacked living in faith and in hope, but the peace, which is believed in and hoped for, without attack and complaint and becoming aware in a wonderful way, that since Easter morning death is overcome, the bow is broken, the spears shattered, the [war]chariots burned with fire, in short: war is abolished; “now is great peace unceasing, all strife at last is ended,” (EG 179:1).

    In the Jerusalem-faith of this peace, that has already been established, we may and should also now dare to seek intensively after the possibilities of political dealings, which are in the movement and direction of that already established peace, after the possibilities of the kingdom of God, which lie in the one who has already come, Jesus Christ. Indeed such possibilities are in the inner mundane fight that still remains to be realized under the conditions of the torn, earthly Jerusalem, the fight of every man against every man in life and death. Thereby we painfully experience that the temporal regiment of God is still in no ways identical with his spiritual and that a puristic pacifism in the face of the still lurking wolves cannot be in the will of God. Because it is God’s will that we protect the life of those who have been given into our care—and in the most extreme case with legitimate force. Yet precisely for this reason we always take part in the old world of the earthly Jerusalem and her conflict.

    Can this participation persevere without resignation or cynicism? Yes, in the trust that the “old, evil” foe—the foe who rages throughout history even to this day–does not win; the trust that “the kingdom ours remaineth,” (LSB 656:4); the kingdom must remain his: his, the child in the manger, his, the man on the cross. This trust in the new Jerusalem—the trust in the eternal city of God—is understood by no ways by itself. For that reason we can now ask and sing: “Give us peace by your grace…” For that reason we can ask and sing every evening with our children and grandchildren: “Lord Jesus, since You love me, now spread Your wings above me and shield me from alarm. Though Satan would devour me, let angel guards sing o’er me: ‘This child of God shall meet no harm,’” (LSB 880:4). Amen


As an extension of LOGIA, LOGIA Online understands itself to be a free conference in the blogosphere. As such, the views expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of LOGIA’s editorial board or the Luther Academy

Hymn Summary: Advent 1

Savior of the Nations Come (LSB 332)

First Sunday in Advent – Ad Te Levavi

Savior of the Nations, Come is one of the oldest hymns in the prayer book.  Attributed to Ambrose (b. 340), it is a prayer Christ would come today.  This is not a vain hope as Christ has come from the Father in heaven. The second verse sings it this way “Not by human flesh and blood, By the Spirit of our God, Was the Word of God made flesh Woman’s offspring, pure and fresh.”

The first verse of the hymn and then the sixth and the seventh are the petitions of the prayer, asking Christ to come and heal our ills of body and soul, and shine into the world.  That prayer is grounded on the facts contained in verses two through five.  While sung instead of spoken they are quite similar to our creeds.  Consider verse five “God the Father was his source, Back to God He ran His course.  Into hell His road went down, Back then to His throne and crown.”  Finally it closes with a doxology. 
 
The hymn sets the Advent theme, “Christ has come, is coming, and will come again.” It is particularly rich incarnationally, undeniably setting the tone for the season as a whole, the Time of Christmas, which includes Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany.  Luther translated this hymn for the people’s use almost literally.  It was arranged for congregational singing with the tune written by Johann Walter, Luther’s Kantor whose own hymn “The Bridegroom soon will call us” was sung by many on the last Sunday of the Church Year.


Rev. Adrian N. Sherrill serves Trinity Lutheran Church, Denver, Colorado. 


As an extension of LOGIA, LOGIA Online understands itself to be a free conference in the blogosphere. As such, the views expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of LOGIA’s editorial board or the Luther Academy

Hymn Summary: Last Sunday of the Church Year

Wake, Awake, For Night is Flying (LSB 516)

Last Sunday of the Church Year

Wake, Awake, for Night, written by the Lutheran Pastor Phillip Nicolai (1599), is referred to as the King of the Chorales. Outside of its outstanding confession concerning the coming Christ it entails some beautiful hidden gems.  Each verse is written in the shape of a chalice, alluding to the Christ and the host of heaven we now participate with in the Lord’s Supper.  The German original contains three initials at the beginning of each verse vs. 1 – W, 2 – Z, and 3 – G.  These belonged to Count Wilhelm Ernst a student of Nicolai’s who died a year before.  Its specific occasion for writing was a horrible plague that claimed thousands with as many as thirty people being buried each day.  Their committals were said to be in the view of Nicolai’s from his office window.  Thus it serves as a comfort to the dying and their families, causing it to be appropriately heard not only at weddings but also funerals.
 
It is based primarily on Matthew 25; the parable of the wise and foolish virgins.  Earlier translations both in TLH and LW missed the reference to the Lord’s Supper in verse two (Das Abendmahl).  LSB has rightly restored it.  The hymn makes the text seen to its hearers and from leads one from the beckoning of the Word of God to the Supper to full participation with Christ and all the saints in heaven.


Lo! He Comes with Clouds Descending (LSB 336)

Last Sunday of the Church Year

The brothers John and Charles Wesley saw that, according to Luther, music teaches the faith and imprints it strongly upon the heart. So he did in this hymn. The tune is new to LSB, but not to the text and a more beautiful pairing to the hymn.  The tune does what the text declares.  As the music descends so the text confesses “. . . with clouds descending.” As the congregation and musicians swell so we sing “Swell the triumph of His train, Alleluia . . .”  It is well worth learning if your parish has not yet undertaken the task. 
 
The hymn primarily pictures through song the words of Revelation 1:7: “Behold, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him, and all tribes of the earth will wail on account of him. Even so. Amen.”   Some slight editing has taken place from Wesley’s original which shows theological difference between the Methodists and Lutherans, “once for favored sinners slain,” now reads “Once for every sinner slain.”


Rev. Adrian N. Sherrill serves Trinity Lutheran Church, Denver, Colorado. 


As an extension of LOGIA, LOGIA Online understands itself to be a free conference in the blogosphere. As such, the views expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of LOGIA’s editorial board or the Luther Academy.

Hymn Summary: Second to Last Sunday of the Church Year

The Day is Surely Drawing Near (LSB 508)

Second to Last Sunday

Our hymn written by Bartholomaus Ringwaldt, a Lutheran pastor who died in 1599.  It is based on the historic Medieval Latin poem, Dies Irae (Day of Wrath).  Its historic usage and its nineteen verses were associated with and used at the time of the Christian’s death.  Some say it was written in the thirteenth century though others ascribe its origin with Gregory the Great (500s)!  It comes from various portions of the Scripture including St. Matthew’s separation of the sheep from the goats, St. Luke’s description of the last days, and Paul’s descriptions of the final day with its trumpet sound in 1 Thess. 4 and 1 Cor. 15.  Many of these texts you can still hear at the grave during the Christian committal, pointing to the hope of the great Resurrection of all flesh.

To listen to the historic rendition of Dies Irae one hears a powerful, foreboding, perhaps even terrifying sound.  Our hymnal’s setting is concerned with a balance of warning and comfort from God’s Word, terror over unbelief and joy for Christ’s sake.  The first four verses tell the events of the last day, emphasizing the final judgment and the punishment for being without faith.  The final three verses deliver those who sing from the terrors of hell, beautifully proclaiming the work of Jesus: writing the singer’s name in the book of life, interceding for His own before the Father, and hearing his children’s prayer and hastening their salvation.


Rev. Adrian N. Sherrill serves Trinity Lutheran Church, Denver, Colorado. 

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Hymn Summary: Third to Last Sunday of the Church Year

Preserve Your Word, O Savior (LSB 658)

Third to Last Sunday of the Church Year
 
This end of the Church Year hymn makes clear that missions and outreach are not mutually exclusive, but hand in hand. They are the work of God and the hope of every Christian.   “Preserve Your Word, O Savior to us this latter day,” asks that the saints of God below would remain in the faith and be joined by others in Christ’s kingdom.  Those who sing begin by praying for the extension of the kingdom and finally ask the Father to preserve the little flock, the singer’s own parish.

The first verse asks that the Holy Trinity would enlarge the kingdom.  Its vast concern is for people everywhere and yet personal: “Oh keep our faith from failing.”  Verse two is concerned with neighbor, those who are not Christians, as we cry alongside of one another, “Convince, convert, enlighten . . . to all who dwell below.”  Verse three turns to Zion, historically a reference to the stronghold of the New Testament Church, that she would be defended from all danger.  Verse four narrows the circle still more as it prays for faithful pastors and faithful preaching.  Finally our hymn concludes with the picture of Christ Jesus bringing each little congregation over the wind and the waves of life on the last day, “Then we will reach the harbor In Your eternal Light.”
 


Lord of all hopefulness (LSB 738)

Third to Last Sunday of the Church Year – Series B
 
This is a vocational hymn that follows the Christian through the course of their day’s activities: from waking to labor, to homing, to sleeping.  Each of four verses also highlight the various times of the day beginning, noon, evening, and end.  Those who sing pray for blessing at the different hours according to the Lord’s presence in these various endeavors of life.  Its usage as the chief hymn of the day seems curious as it is quite general, not specifically Trinitarian, Christological, Sacramental, or a clear pairing to the widow’s mite (Mark 12:38–44).  One may find a reference to the Second Person of the Trinity in the phrase “Whose strong hands were skilled at the plane and the lathe . . .”  With its beautiful tune one can imagine a usage perhaps with children in its simplicity, at the beginning or ending of the day in the family devotional.  As for its use in the Church Year, parishes may consider their Christian liberty to highlight the text with something stronger or more in keeping with end time themes.


Rev. Adrian N. Sherrill serves Trinity Lutheran Church, Denver, Colorado. 

Hymn Summary: All Saint's Day

For All the Saints (LSB 677)

For All the Saints comforts us regarding those who have died in Christ and encourages us to share bravely their confession.  It is a commentary on Christ's one church, here militant, there in glory.  It was written off of the text "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses ..."

It is an example of liturgy and hymnody teaching the faith and comforting in the face of death and every lonely day thereafter.  When sung many tears are on cheeks, with words such as "Oh blest communion, fellowship divine, we feeble struggle, they in glory shine..." "And when the fight is fierce the warfare long, steals on the ear the distant triumph song..."  Who cannot help but give thanks to God in Christ Jesus for grandfathers and grandmothers, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, children and friends who have died in Christ Jesus?  Who cannot be encouraged with God's sung Word to be brave that they might participate with them and join them once more?   

The hymn was written by an Anglican bishop, William How.  Among other things he was a higher critic and evolutionist.  Yet in death, his best words remain and through song become our own.  Through the ages hymns and liturgy have sanctified many wayward preachers and preserved faith in those who sing Christ's song.  With its short stanzas and refrain, even small children, can be encouraged happily singing Alleluia time and again.   There is no theology of glory here, but instead the truth that to be a Christian is a lifelong struggle that ends with yet more glorious days indeed the victor's crown of gold.  


Rev. Adrian N. Sherrill serves Trinity Lutheran Church, Denver, Colorado. 

How Do We Understand Suffering Through a Theology of the Cross?

—By Adam Welton


The theology of the cross

How do we understand suffering through a theology of the cross? There are two reason to use a question here. First, the question allows for an open dialogue with the subject allowing for a fuller exploration of the topic at hand. Second, in the question points to the answer. The question that most people are really asking is how to understand suffering. The answer to this question can only rightly be understood through a theology of the cross. 

Gerhard Forde said, “How can the cross be a theology? The cross is an event. Theology is reflection on and explanation of the event. Theology is about the event, is it not?”[1] All of Christian theology is about one single event: the cross. Without the cross at the center of all theology we simply get anthropology. Scripture gives the history of the plan of salvation from sin by God. There is motion in Scripture which leads us from the fall to the cross and then out from the cross to the church where the benefits of the cross are received. The center of the church is nothing other than the event of the cross. 

Before we tackle the hard question of suffering let us explore the theology of the cross. This term, while not found in the Bible, presents a basic hermeneutic. The way we understand Scripture will change the way we see our world. The lens Christians see the world through is Scripture, because it gives God's view of the world. Only in Scriptures do we find the true condition of the world. Knowing this, how we understand Scripture affects how we view the world and finally understand suffering. 

The terms “theology of the cross” and “theology of glory” both come from Dr. Martin Luther. Luther presented the Theses of the Heidelberg Disputation on 25 April 1518 at the Augustinian convent for public disputation.[2] John Staupitz invited Luther and Beier to acquaint the Augustianian order with Wittenberg's new theology.[3] Vicar Staupitz wanted Luther's new theology to be known and well received by these educated men. In writing for this purpose, Luther first introduced the language of the theology of the cross in his Theses for the Heidelberg Disputation. 

The Heidelberg Disputation opposes the theology of the cross to the theology of glory. These two theologies are set as diametrically opposed to each other. Their opposition becomes visible when the core components of each is mapped out:


THEOLOGY OF GLORY[4]

THEOLOGY OF THE CROSS

God is visible

God is hidden

Sight

Faith

Acceptable to human reason

Offensive to human reason

God works in power

God works in weakness

Human will is free

Human will is enslaved to sin

Righteousness is achieved doing the works of the law

Righteousness is a gift through faith in Christ alone

Characterized by either despair or arrogance

Characterized by the humility of confidence in Christ 


The first item in the chart opposes a visible God to a hidden God. Theses 19 and 20 of the Heidelberg Disputation give an unclear understanding of this: “Thesis 19 That a person does not deserve to be called a theologian who claims to see into the invisible things of God by seeing through earthly things (events, works). Thesis 20 But [that person deserves to be called a theologian] who comprehends what is visible of God (visibilia et posteriora Dei) through suffering and the cross.”[5] The theologian of glory sees God in the events and works of the world. Many will look at sickness and suffering as God's wrath and punishment or at a person’s success as a mark of God's favor on the person. The theologian of the cross sees God only in the suffering of Christ on the cross.[6] This is a radically different way to see God. It means for the theologian of the cross the only place to know God is in Scripture. The only way to see God is not with our eyes but with our ears. 

The second point opposes “the eyes” to “faith,” or “the eyes” to “the ears.” The theologian of glory will not believe unless he has visible signs. For the theologian of the cross all faith comes from hearing. Steven Paulson states this quite well in his book Lutheran Theology: “What Luther discovered next was that faith is created ex nihilo (out of nothing) by words. God's own justice becomes passive because God wants to be justified in his words. … “That Thou mayest be justified in thy words” (Psalm 51:5 and Romans 3:4 translation altered).”[7] This faith, created by the word of God, allows us to see God. But what we see of God is only the homo factus est (God who has been made man): God taking on flesh and blood, and dying on the cross. Here in the lowliness, in the suffering, do we finally see God. 

The third point considers whether theology is acceptable or offensive to human reason. To be plausible to the wisdom of the world, theology must be reasonable. If what is said is not reasonable and is offensive to human reason, then it will be discarded. St. Paul points us to this in 1 Corinthians 1:18 “For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” Clearly when speaking of the cross the world sees it as foolishness. To have a savior who dies and does not lead men in victorious battle is foolishness to them. The theologian of glory accepts this way of thinking. He considers it and says that there must be something more. There has to be something behind the cross. The theologian of the cross sees the true wisdom and power in the cross, in the very event of Christ's death on the cross itself. While this does not make sense to human reason, the theologian of the cross simply takes God's word for it. 

The fourth point opposes a God who works in power to a God who works in weakness. This is the chief point. This one point changes expectations of God. A theologian of glory looks for God to show himself in power. He sees God coming to people not in their suffering but only in their success. Gene Veith writes about how the theology of glory appears in Christian bookstores: 

Today their shelves too are stocked with ways of using God for one's own health, happiness, and prosperity. . . . Their covers make vast and excited claims, as if by following certain steps family problems will disappear, our bodies will do what we want, our financial problems will evaporate, we will solve our nation's problems, grow the church, and live happily ever after.[8]


Veith notes how people create methods out of God's word in order to make better lives. These books do not give the promises found in Scripture but use God's word to create methods to reach perfection in this life. Follow these methods, as Veith observes, and one will “live happily ever after.” God will be present in power and success. Life will become a fairy tale ending.[9] 

The theologian of the cross knows that God reveals himself in weakness and helps mankind in the same weakness. Isaiah 53:2 says that there is no appearance of greatness in the one who comes to save the world. Isaiah describes not only how Christ had nothing which appeared to be great but also how he will be rejected and be acquainted not with power and might but with grief (Isa 53:3). Christ, who is true God, sets aside his power and might to become man in order to win salvation for man. Isaiah speaks of this savior: “Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed” (Isa 53:4–5). In the stripes of Christ we are healed. Here the chastisement of Christ brings us peace in times of suffering. Here the theologian of the cross has to see God, for here God made himself manifest to mankind in his son Jesus Christ. It was not in power, but in this lowliness described by Isaiah that Christ came. Man would not have chosen for God to work this way. However, God chose to work this way for man. 

The fifth point could have its own paper; we consider it only briefly here. The theologian of glory assumes man's will is free while the theologian of the cross knows man's will is enslaved to sin. St. Paul tells us we are in the condition of being enslaved to sin (Rom 7). The theologian of glory, holding that the will is free and one is able to keep the law of God, contradicts what St. Paul says. Free will leaves the question of why we need Christ open. If the will is free, if people can choose not to sin, no longer do we need Christ. It could be said that Christ only begins to forgive sins and then enables a person to grow as a Christian to the point of sinlessness. Why then would Christians still suffer? If sin is gone, because the will of man does the will of God, then the person should not be suffering. The reason for suffering then must be insufficient faith or morality.

The sixth point opposes righteousness achieved by doing the works of the law to righteousness as a gift through faith in Christ alone. In the end the theology of glory comes down to righteousness no longer being a free gift of Christ given to man, but a work of the law. This point lumps all theologies of glory together, irrespective of whether it be Christian, Muslim, Jewish, or Mormon theology. The theologian of glory is no different than the world. The theologian of the cross sees the only hope we have in righteousness which is given to man through faith by Christ. It is justification through faith by grace alone. Melanchthon summed this up in Augsburg Confession IV. This gift is given by the Holy Spirit through the gospel to create and sustain saving faith in the hearer. Luther says of justification: “For if the doctrine of justification is lost, the whole of Christian doctrine is lost.”[10] 

Finally, the theology of glory is characterized by either despair or arrogance while the theology of the cross is characterized by the humility of confidence in Christ. Theologians of glory have abandoned hope in Christ for despair or arrogance in the self. The theology of glory finds only despair in suffering, for suffering brings the weakness and helplessness of man to the surface and strips away all illusions of power. Those who succumb to suffering must have had inadequate faith. God has abandoned them. God then ends up in one of two categories. God is either the creator of the world who does not break into time and space to help man,[11] or there is no God. The theologian of glory finally has nothing to offer the one suffering. 

The theologian of the cross sees God in weakness. St. Paul speaks comfort to all who are suffering in 2 Corinthians 12:7–10. St. Paul speaks the comfort which can only come from seeing God in the weakness of the cross, from knowing that God has suffered that we may be restored. A theologian of the cross finds confidence in the cross of Christ. 

The world will never agree with the theologian of the cross who finds comfort in a man who has died on a cross. But those who are being saved by the cross finally find all of their comfort and confidence in the cross. It is here, in the theology of the cross, where the theologian has something to offer to those who are suffering. 

Understanding suffering 

“Dear friends, you know that it is customary in this season to preach on the Passion, so I have no doubt that you have heard many times what kind of passion and suffering it was. You have also heard why it was that God the Father ordained it, namely, that through it he wanted to help, not the person for Christ, for Christ had no need at all for this suffering; but we and the whole human race needed this suffering.”[12] Luther points to our need of Christ's suffering to relieve our suffering. This is the starting point for understanding suffering from the cross of Christ. 

We must be clear from the outset that “every Christian must be aware that suffering will not fail to come.”[13] This is the first point in which the theology of the cross differs from the theology of glory. The theology of glory seeks to avoid suffering. “Modern culture would tell us that pain and suffering are just a part of life, and that we need to do everything we can to avoid both.”[14] This idea seeps into the theology of many Christians. Richard C. Eyer writes: “If a person holds to a tragic view of life that pursues happiness now at any cost, a view that devalues the sufferings of this life, he will inevitably hold to a theology of glory, seeking to avoid suffering—perhaps even to the point of despair and self-destruction in suicide.”[15] Eyer observes the thinking of the secular world working its way into the church. 

A short survey of some of the largest churches in America confirms Eyer’s observation. Joel Osteen writes: “Living your best life now means being excited about the life God has given you. It means believing for more good things in the days ahead, while living in the moment and enjoying it to the hilt. … God's people should be the happiest people on earth. So happy, in fact, that other people notice. Why? Because we not only have a fabulous future, we can enjoy life today!”[16] For Osteen hope is not just in the future for the life to come but is right now. God wants people to have a great life and nothing can limit God from giving you that life except you: “God is limited only by our lack of faith.”[17] Osteen goes on to address a question which gets to the heart of suffering: “Yes, but Joel, it's been a rough year. I've gone through so many disappointments. I've lost a lot of good things.”[18] Osteen answers, “Maybe so, but have you considered this: If it were not for the goodness of God, you might have lost it all. Why not be grateful for what you have? Quit looking at what's wrong and start thanking God for what's right. Get up each day expecting God's favor.”[19] Joel Osteen sees suffering as the result of a lack of faith. In the midst of suffering we do not see a gracious God who cares for us but one who is angry and wrathful at insufficient faith.

The theology of glory deals with suffering by trying to dismiss it or thinking one’s way out of it. Thinking one’s way out of suffering is to glorify the self and seek help from the self and not from God. By turning in on oneself, one cannot possibly turn to God. The theology of glory also denies the fact that we cannot always do something about suffering. We cannot always relieve pain, hurt, loss, or physical problems. Directing a person to the power of positive thinking to resolve suffering does them an injustice and denies the truth of the situation. 

Here we finally see the difference between a theologian of glory and a theologian of the cross in suffering. “A theology [Forde points out that the Latin literally says “theologian” rather than “theology”] of glory calls evil good and good evil. A theology [theologian] of the cross calls the thing what it actually is.”[20] The theologian of the cross just says suffering is suffering and there is not much we can do about it. Take the example of a man who is dying of cancer. The doctors have done everything they can do and there is nothing left to do. The theologian of glory smiles and tells the person and the family that things will be okay. The theologian of the cross says the man is dying. There is recognition the man is dying and we can do nothing. The theologian of the cross does not deny that God can and does work in miracles at times, but knows this is not the normal way God works. He does not look for a miracle where God has not promised one. When death is at hand the theologian of glory offers false hope in miracles while the theologian of the cross gives true hope in the forgiveness of sins and eternal life for the sake of Christ. 

Knowing suffering comes and there is nothing we can do to avoid it does not really help us to understand suffering. It does not help to answer the questions which come up when we suffer or our loved ones suffer. It does not answer the question of why some who are evil do not suffer while those who are good suffer. To address this question, we must first consider the cause of suffering.

Suffering was not part of the world created by God and declared by him to be good. Suffering came into the world at the same time as sin:

Through Adam and Eve, and through their sin, pain, suffering, and death were brought into God's good and perfect creation. When God created this world, including Adam and Eve, He did not create pain and suffering as part of His creation. Rather, the pain and suffering that is experienced in the world is a result of the sin that has been brought into the world.[21] 


Genesis 3 portrays suffering as a result of original sin. “[T]his inherited defect is guilt, which causes us all to stand in God's disfavor and to be ‘children of wrath by nature’ because of the disobedience of Adam and Eve, as the Apostle testifies in Romans 5[:12].”[22] All people are affected by original sin and are under its punishment: “The punishment and penalty for original sin, which God laid upon Adam's children and upon original sin, is death, eternal damnation, and also ‘other corporal’ and spiritual, temporal, and eternal miseries, ‘the tyranny and domination of the devil.’”[23] The reformers knew with sin came not only eternal punishment but also temporal miseries. We confess this each Sunday: “I, a poor, miserable sinner, confess unto You all my sins and iniquities with which I have ever offended You and justly deserved Your temporal and eternal punishment.”[24] We know that there is both temporal and eternal punishment, but we often do not think of these punishments as suffering. We connect punishment with imprisonment and other civic penalties. Pain and suffering are part of the punishment which comes for sin. We may wish that there were no pain in the world, but it is clear from the curse in Genesis 3:16–19 that pain is part of the punishment for sin. But does that mean all pain and suffering can be linked to a specific sin?

The answer to the question is yes and no. Some suffering can be linked to a specific sin. This is easiest to know when God tells us through a prophet. When the Israelites are taken into captivity by the Babylonians, God tells us through Isaiah, Daniel, and Jeremiah that this was the result of Israel's sin. Through Amos God lays out in great detail the sins the Northern Kingdom committed that led God to punish them. Linking suffering to a specific sin becomes harder and very dangerous when we do not have a direct word of God. It is safe to say that an alcoholic suffering from liver disease suffers because of sin. A link can be made between leading a promiscuous life style and contracting a sexually transmitted disease. Yet caution should be used in these cases. While it may be true in some cases, it is not necessarily true in all cases. To jump to this conclusion falsely can cause a great amount of pain and suffering. We do need to speak God's law, but this needs to be spoken carefully and in love for the person. The law already works on them in their suffering. We risk driving the person into complete despair if we continue to hit him with the law.[25] With that said, when sin and suffering go together we cannot deny it. In most cases, however, people suffer without a specific sin as the cause of their suffering. Suffering is just part of living in this fallen creation. 

Evil does cause suffering—but not always. Indeed, the usual complaint is that the evil don't seem to suffer. However, the causes of suffering may not always be evil—perhaps not even most of the time. Love can cause suffering. Beauty can be the occasion for suffering. Children with their demands and impetuous cries can cause suffering. Just toil and trouble of daily life can cause suffering, and so on. Yet these are surely not to be termed evil. The problem of suffering should not just be rolled up with the problem of evil. Only false speaking lures us into doing that.[26]


We should not be drawn into the idea of a specific sin leading to specific suffering. While all suffering is caused by sin not all sin lead directly to suffering. 

How then is suffering dealt with? Is suffering something which is simply to be avoided? Or is suffering to be expected and dealt with when it comes? The first is the way of the world and the way of the theologian of glory. The second is the way of the theologian of the cross and of Scriptures. Suffering is part of this life and this world because of the fall into sin. 

Knowing suffering is in the world is only part of understanding suffering. The other part is seeing suffering in light of the cross. A theologian of the cross sees and knows suffering as part of the world and does not simply try to rid the person of suffering. What does the theologian of the cross do? “Pastoral care consists in helping suffering people learn to relate the cross to their suffering here and now as well as to their hope for hereafter.”[27] The theologian of the cross helps the person who is suffering interpret suffering by the light of the cross. 

In Scripture there are connections between suffering and sin, and forgiveness and healing. Jesus is always moving among the people and doing the work of restoring the fallen creation. This work is ultimately carried out in his death on the cross. Here God does the work of paying for sin and restoring creation to himself. This reveals that “the connection between sickness and the forgiveness of sins is the connection between our helplessness before God and the cross of Jesus on which Jesus became our help.”[28]

In the weakness of suffering we finally come to see our need for forgiveness. When faced with the loss of control in our life we come to understand that we are not able to take care of the problems in our life. We need help to deal with our sin and with our suffering. Here in suffering, in weakness God reveals himself. Through the suffering of Christ we finally understand God is the one who deals with our suffering. 

Under the cross we also know God has not left us alone in suffering. God forgives sins and cares for the body. At times God grants healing to those who are suffering. We do not know why some are granted healing and some are not. Truthfully, we should not try to answer this question. This is the hidden knowledge of God that has not been revealed to us. As theologians of the cross we do not try to search out this knowledge. We accept that this is the way of the Lord. We can know God does give healing and he ordinarily does it through regular means. 

Most of the time suffering is a response to pain.[29] While not all pain is accompanied by suffering, often pain and suffering go together. With this in mind we can consider how pain relief alleviates suffering. God accomplishes this through doctors and nurses. Sometimes pain cannot be completely cured but can only be managed. This is also God's way of taking care of our bodies. But this underscores that it is not our job as Christians, who are not necessarily medical professionals, to relieve pain and suffering. Our job is to point the person to the foot of the cross. There at the foot of the cross God is seen. There the true hope for the sufferer is found. 

The question of why we must suffer comes up often. Eyer writes, “Why God chose to make himself known in the midst of suffering on a cross, God only knows. Perhaps, if speculation is allowed, it is because it is there that we need him most. Or perhaps it is there that we least expect to see God, yet God does come—on his own terms, by grace.”[30] Nowhere else should we look for God than in suffering and especially the suffering of Christ on the cross. We cannot help but come back to Christ’s suffering again and again for it becomes the only hope we have. Luther answers this question as well in a sermon he writes on the cross and suffering during Lent:

In the third place we want also to consider why it is that our Lord God sends us such suffering. And the reason is that in this way he wants to make us conformed to the image of his dear Son, Christ, so that we may become like him here in suffering and there in that life to come in honor and glory [cf. Rom. 8:29; 8:17; II Tim. 2:11–12], … The second reason is this, that even though God does not want to assault and torment us, the devil does, and he cannot abide the Word. … Thirdly, it is also highly necessary that we suffer not only that God may prove his honor, power, and strength against the devil, but also in order that when we are not in trouble and suffering this excellent treasure which we have may not merely make us sleepy and secure. … Lastly, Christian suffering is nobler and precious above all other human suffering because, since Christ himself suffered, he also hallowed the suffering of all Christians.[31]


Luther points us to a fourfold reason for suffering. These reasons are not the cause of the suffering but the good which comes from the suffering. Luther's answer to why God allows suffering is finally the good it brings to us. Luther points us to how suffering forms us to Christ (in Christ's suffering on the cross), how suffering is brought by the devil (because we believe in God), suffering helps to keep us from becoming secure in our sin (in the good times) and finally how Christian suffering is holy because it is suffering in Christ. Luther finally leads us to understand suffering not as evil but as necessary and good. Luther later preaches in the same sermon: “Since we know then that it is God's good pleasure that we should suffer, and that God's glory is manifested in our suffering, better than in any other way.”[32] God's glory is made manifest in our suffering. God is shown first and chiefly to us and then second to those around us. The Christian faces suffering very differently because of Christ's suffering on the cross. We do not suffer as those who have no hope but instead as those who have hope of the relief of our sufferings. 

Suffering and weakness are where God has chosen to reveal himself to humanity. In our own weakness and suffering God leads us to find that we are not able to provide for our needs. We are shown our true nature in original sin and our helplessness in the face of original sin. Finally, in Christ’s suffering and death we find how God has dealt with all human suffering. 

To those who suffer

Christians have a lot to offer to those who are suffering. The greatest thing we have to offer is Christ. To understand suffering though the theology of the cross is to understand suffering in light of the hope which we have in the forgiveness of sins. When we speak to those suffering we cannot let this be forgotten. 

We speak of the hope of God granting healing here but this does not become our focus. The comfort we bring is the future hope we have in Christ. This limits how we talk about healing. Healing is no longer the ultimate end, but only a gracious gift that points us to something greater.[33] St. Matthew in the fourth chapter of his Gospel makes it clear that Jesus heals bodies and not just souls. A note in The Lutheran Study Bible explains this passage: “healing. The various diseases and afflictions cataloged in v. 24 are evidence of how sin has spoiled God's creation. Jesus' healing miracles showed the nearness of God's reign and gave a foretaste of our final deliverance from disease and death.”[34] Earthly healing only goes to show us a little of what eternal life will be like. “For even if they are reborn and ‘renewed in the spirit of their minds’ [Eph. 4:23], this rebirth and renewal is not perfect in this world. Instead, it has only begun.”[35] Where the Formula of Concord speaks about the sanctification of a person it refers not only to our keeping the law but also has to the restoration of the body. 

As we speak to people about healing we can tell them God may grant them healing as a foretaste of what is to come in paradise. We can also tell the person who has no hope of physical or mental healing that God has not abandoned them, but in the life to come they will be restored completely and no longer suffer. For St. John tells us in Revelation: “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Rev. 21:4). We see here a complete reversal of the curse placed on Adam and Eve and all their descendants. We can now point those who seem to have no hope in this life to the hope which is to come. 

We certainly can pray for healing[36] but we do not think our prayer gives some kind of healing power. “It is important to see prayer, not as taking charge of life or death but as a way of putting all things into the hands of God and finding peace in doing so.”[37] We do not then depend on how well we pray to bring healing. We pray for healing the whole time knowing God is good and gracious and always does what is best for us. 

We pray in faith, trusting God and fearing him at the same time. We are often uncomfortable with the fear of God. The fear of God is not to be in terror of God. The fear of God is a filial fear, a fear that understands the person, or God, as always having your best interest in mind. This differs greatly from servile fear. Servile fear is the fear which only sees the person as having their best interest in mind. It could be said the father always has the son’s best interest in mind while the master only has his best interest in mind. Filial fear is the fear of God. We fear God in the way dear children fear their dear father. We know God always has our best interest in mind. 

We pray trusting that God will do what is best for us. Even if we do not ask for what is good God will only give to us what is good for us. This truth we know because God is our heavenly Father who cares for us and takes care of our every need. Eyer says, “To pray rightly, ‘Thy will be done’ is to trust that God's intentions toward us are good and gracious.”[38] Finally, “Prayer is not a tool of faith by which we control his control over our lives. Rather it is the conversation God began with us when he established a relationship with us in Baptism. As his children we can ask anything.”[39]

Pastors bring certain things that laity cannot. Pastors bring Holy Baptism and the Lord's Supper to those who are suffering. It has not been given to all people to bring these means of grace to people in suffering. What laity bring, which many pastors cannot, is the comfort of Christian fellowship. While the pastor can be there and speak the truth of God's Word, he often does not bring the same comfort as a friend brings. We do not need to deny this truth. God gathers his people together into fellowship for the purpose of strengthening and upholding each other. This is not just to be done in the church or at pot lucks. It is while suffering that people need to be surrounded by fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. This is one of the regular means by which God brings earthly comfort to those who are suffering. This happens in ordinary ways, such as a simple visit to a hospitalized or home-bound person. We do this out of our identity as sons and daughters of God who go and do works of mercy. 

Conclusion

This, you see, is the way we teach concerning suffering, and you should also accustom yourself to distinguish carefully between the suffering of Christ and all other suffering and know that his is a heavenly suffering and ours is worldly, that his suffering accomplishes everything, while ours does nothing except that we become conformed to Christ, and that therefore the suffering of Christ is the suffering of a lord, whereas ours is the suffering of a servant.[40]

Understanding suffering comes from understanding the suffering of Christ on the cross. By our suffering we do not become more qualified for heaven. By Christ's suffering we are given forgiveness and eternal life. As we face suffering in this world we understand that we cannot avoid all suffering. When it comes, we know that in our suffering and weakness we see Christ. There we are lead to the foot of the cross to be forgiven and receive healing of this body which is a foretaste of what is to come in the next life. Finally, our hope is never in this life but in the life to come. As we suffer and we go to those who are suffering we bring the comfort of the life to come. We hear the words of Joy F. Patterson in the hymn “When Aimless Violence Takes Those We Love”:


Our faith may flicker low, and hope grow dim,

Yet You, O God, are with us in our pain;

You grieve with us and for us day by day,

And with us, sharing sorrow, will remain. 


Because Your Son knew agony and loss, 

Felt desolation, grief and scorn and shame,

We know You will be with us, come what may,

Your loving presence near, always the same. 


Through long grief-darkened days help us, dear Lord,

To trust Your grace for courage to endure,

To rest our souls in Your supporting love,

And find our hope within Your mercy sure.

(“When Aimless Violence Take Those We Love,” LSB 764, stanzas 3–5)


Rev. Adam Welton is pastor of Zion Lutheran Church, Presho, SD, and Trinity Lutheran Church, Reliance, SD.


As an extension of LOGIA, LOGIA Online understands itself to be a free conference in the blogosphere. As such, the views expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of LOGIA’s editorial board or the Luther Academy.


[1] Gerhard O. Forde, On Being a Theologian of the Cross: Reflections on Luther’s Heidelberg Disputations, 1518 (Grand Rapids: W. B. Eerdmans, 1997), 3.

[2] Ernest G. Schwiebert, Luther and His Times: The Reformation from a New Perspective, (St. Louis: Concordia, 1950), 327.

[3] Schwiebert, Luther and His Times, 327–8.

[4] John T. Pless, Study Guide for: On Being a Theologian of the Cross by Gerhard Forde, distributed in PMM 150, 2–3.

[5] Forde, On Being a Theologian of the Cross, 71.

[6] “Theologians of the cross are therefore those whose eyes have been turned away from the quest for glory by the cross, who have eyes only for what is visible, what is actually there to be seen of God, the suffering and despised crucified Jesus.” Forde, On Being a Theologian of the Cross, 79.

[7] Steven D. Paulson, Lutheran theology (London: T & T Clark International, 2011), 54.

[8] Gene Edward Veith, The Spirituality of the Cross: The Way of the First Evangelicals (St. Louis: Concordia, 1999), 57–8.

[9] “Luther called this kind of self-aggrandizing, success-centered, power spirituality ‘the theology of glory.’ Of course its attraction is understandable. Naturally we want success, victories, and happiness. We will be attracted to any religion that can promise us such things.” Veith, The Spirituality of the Cross, 58.

[10] LW 27:9.

[11] For a discussion of the implications of cold deism, see James W. Sire, The Universe Next Door: A Basic Worldview Catalog (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2009), 52.

[12] LW 51:197.

[13] LW 51:198.

[14] Making Sense out of Suffering (Saint Louis: Concordia, 2006), 2.

[15] Richard C. Eyer, Pastoral Care Under the Cross: God in the Midst of Suffering (St. Louis: Concordia, 1994), 28.

[16] Joel Osteen, "Don't Be Limited by the Lack of Faith” https://www.joelosteen.com/pages/article.aspx?h4tid=80 (accessed 15 March 2014).

[17] Osteen, "Don't Be Limited by the Lack of Faith.”

[18] Osteen, "Don't Be Limited by the Lack of Faith.”

[19] Osteen, "Don't Be Limited by the Lack of Faith.”

[20] Forde, On Being a Theologian of the Cross, 81.

[21] Making Sense of Suffering, 1.

[22] FC SD I:9

[23] FC SD I:13

[24] Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod, Lutheran Service Book (St. Louis: Concordia, 2006), 184.

[25] “Seldom can sickness be traced back to a specific sin in an individual's life, and, if there is one, the pastoral counselor is advised to support the parishioner's voluntary discovery of this sin for himself rather than pointing it out to him.” Eyer, Pastoral Care under the Cross, 46.

[26] Forde, On Being a Theologian of the Cross, 84.

[27] Eyer, Pastoral Care under the Cross, 25.

[28] Eyer, Pastoral Care under the Cross, 58.

[29] “Pain can be defined as a greater or lesser degree of physical discomfort. … Suffering, on the other hand, can be defined as the existential anxiety, fear, worry, or hopelessness that may or may not accompany pain. Suffering is a reaction to pain.” Eyer, Pastoral Care under the Cross, 44.

[30] Eyer, Pastoral Care under the Cross, 48.

[31] LW 51:206.

[32] LW 51:208.

[33] “Healing is a sign of hope for things greater than physical welfare” Eyer, Pastoral Care under the Cross, 62).

[34] Edward Engelbrecht and Paul E. Deterding, ed., The Lutheran Study Bible: English Standard Version (Saint Louis: Concordia, 2009), 1585. Note on Matthew 4:23.

[35] FC EP VI, 4.

[36] “However, we are invited to pray against all odds of illness” Eyer, Pastoral Care under the Cross, 61.

[37] Eyer, Pastoral Care under the Cross, 62.

[38] Eyer, Pastoral Care under the Cross, 59.

[39] Eyer, Pastoral Care under the Cross, 62.

[40] LW 51:208.

A Bold Church in an Age of Terrorism—Part II

— By Fredrik Sidenvall

Translated By Bror Erickson

Kyrka och Folk Nr. 37 Sept 10 2015

Editor’s Note: This is the first of a three part installment. The first part may be found here: Part I

The Basis for a Bold Church

Let us return to the besieged Jerusalem during the time of King Hezekiah. Two events made it so that Hezekiah and his friends could not push the accusing words of the Assyrians away from them, namely the tangible truth of the vast military advantage of the Assyrians and that their consciences were stung by the realization that they had placed their faith and trust in Egypt rather than the Lord. In this setting King Hezekiah responds in a manner that is in complete accord with the handbook for victims of temptation; he does not flee from the Lord in despair, but seeks the presence of the Lord in the temple; he doesn’t make excuses for himself but goes and confesses his sin, he speaks to God from out his distress in prayers, and he asks for the word of the Lord. And what does the Lord say? Yes, the Lord speaks through his prophet Isaiah concerning the overpowering enemy:  “he shall not come into this city, declares the Lord. For I will defend this city to save it, for my own sake and for the sake of my servant David.” (Isaiah 37:34–35 ESV)

We encounter the gospel in these words, the good and joyous message that is addressed to both areas that the kakangelium previously attacked, the truth and the conscience. The truth that is revealed is that the Lord shall intervene. The revealed truth will soon become the apparent truth when 185,000 Assyrians die in camp and the overpowering army was pressed into a retreat. But to timid consciences who do not think they have any right to demand or expect any help from the Lord, the Lord says that he shall help for his own sake and the sake of his servant. They should not look within themselves for any basis for grace, but in God’s heart and for his servant’s sake. Hezekiah who was disheartened and went through the deepest agony which was the fruit of Sennacherib, the prince of the world’s kakangelium, was through Isaiah’s gospel a living member in a bold church and could say with newly awakened courage: “The Lord will save me, and we will play my music on stringed instruments all the days of our lives, at the house of the Lord.” (Isaiah 38:20 ESV)

The basis for a bold church is the same today: grace and truth. When the church becomes the mother of ravaged street children like Europe was after the Migration Period and the cultural unity of the Middle Ages grew forth from the coronation of Charlemagne on Christmas day in the year 800, then it is shown that the power of truth is not dependent upon blood ties and territory, that it doesn’t grow up from below, but is given from above. The separated people and tribes were united before Christ in the body and blood of the altar and in a common adoration of the Agnus Dei. But for the church of the Middle Ages truth was not only liturgical and turned in, it reached out to all of the known world. Thomas Aquinas wanted to put everything and everyone into the context of truth. Certainly it wasn’t some lifeless pedantry that drove him, but instead the desire that the truth should make God’s people free and bold. We know that the kakangelium could penetrate the church’s holy city for various reasons. The people on the walls reached by the harassing word and the law of God and man accuse the consciences of people and the boldness was turned to anxiety and painful uncertainty again in the medieval church. He who was then sent to the beleaguered and anxious Zion in the footsteps of Isaiah was Martin Luther and his disciples. With newly acquired ability to read the original languages of Scripture he rediscovered that the Lord’s promise of help was not based upon the righteousness of man or hindered by man’s sin, but has its basis in God’s grace and righteousness. In the Greater Galatians Commentary, Luther uses the telling expression monstrum incertitudinis (the monster of uncertainty) for the spiritual powers that are both behind the kakangelium, and are also its fruit. Yet Luther found the effective counter measure in the pure and clear gospel of the justification of the sinner through faith alone. Luther writes: “may we also thank God that we are freed from this behemoth of uncertainty, and can now be certain that the Holy Spirit cries, and his ineffable sigh proceeds and enters our hearts:  and the basis is this: the gospel commands us to consider not our good deeds, and our perfection, but God himself who gives the promise and Christ himself, the Mediator. However, the Pope wanted one to direct his eyes, not to God in his promise, not to the High Priest Christ, but to our works and our merit. If uncertainty and despair necessarily follow from this, then certainty and joy in the Spirit necessarily follow when you cling to God who cannot lie. He says: ‘Behold I give my son into death for you so that he may redeem you from sin and death with his blood’.”[1]

Nothing in life and death can bestow such a boldness as this gospel. We find one of the most radical expressions of the gospel’s boldness in 1 John 4:17: “By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as he is so also are we in this world.” (1 John 4:17 ESV) This gospel is the basis for the bold church. We are now offered this foundation not though our own spiritual performance or strength or pious feelings, but through hands on things like the plain and clear gospel and through the real Sacrament. 

The Pastor and Doctor Tom G A Hardt, who was a congenial disciple of Hermann Sasse, who as early as between 1930 and 1976 gave many genuine contributions to confessional theology and church life in Sweden and  the world at large, writes in an essay on the Lord’s Supper, “It would be much better if the useless fear of Catholicism that is guilty of such erroneous and unhealthy excesses in its attacks against the teaching of Transubstantiation, would instead want to explain the Lutheran content . . . It is instructive to note that there is often great ignorance concerning the battle lines that actually run here. Even churchly Protestants accept the common notion that the reformation loosed the ties between the means of grace and spiritual forgiveness, and that faith means that the importance of an individual replaced the importance the priest and the means of grace had earlier. One such description disfigures the most essential difference between Rome and Lutheranism in such a manner that the opponents change sides. If it is at all possible to give a simple, summary of the question then it can be said of the reformation- nota bene the Lutheran Reformation- offered a real forgiveness of sins through the means of grace to men, who through all the years before had used the means of grace in the conviction that these did not give the forgiveness of sins with certainty. This was the true nature of the medieval theology’s monstrum incertitudinis; the spiritual monster of uncertainty that commanded, and today still do command, that no one may apply the promise of the gospel and the sacraments to himself with full certainty." (Hardt, Tom G. A. The Sacrament of the Altar s. 37, art. Övers)[2]


To be continued . . . 


As an extension of LOGIA, LOGIA Online understands itself to be a free conference in the blogosphere. As such, the views expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of LOGIA’s editorial board or the Luther Academy.



[1] Greater Galatians Commentary, pg. 323 (WA pg. 589)

[2] Tom G. A. Hardt, The Sacrament of the Altar s. 37, art. Övers

Hymn Summary: Reformation

 

Salvation Unto Us has Come

Reformation Observed Oct. 25

The hymn of the day for Reformation is Salvation unto us has come (1524).  Included in the first Lutheran hymnal, the Achtliederbuch (1524), it was one of eight hymns given to the Church to carry the Gospel by song, particularly through the school children, who could quite quickly set it to memory.  Luther wrote four of these hymns, including Dear Christians One and All Rejoice, and Speratus wrote three.  Speratus wrote this particular hymn while in prison (1523)!  He had been excommunicated and sentenced to death by burning at the stake by the Church of Rome for among other things breaking the vow of celibacy, preaching against monastic vows (works), and getting married.  Through the intervention of friends he was delivered from prison and spared, his hymn preserved for the church, and he and his wife made able to join Luther in Wittenburg.

While the original German had 14 verses our English versions retain 10.  When many were illiterate and the services of the Church conducted in Latin what joy this hymn would bring to the brokenhearted, perhaps for the first time ever, to hear of Christ's saving work in one's own language.  The hymn is thoroughly grounded in the doctrine of the Scripture.  It contains powerful Law and Gospel, as it sings of the treasures of Word, grace, faith, atonement, salvation, baptism, and service to neighbor, poured out by Christ for sinners.  Imagine the relief it brought to those trying to buy their way out of hell with their money and works to hear "Since Christ hath full atonement made and brought to us salvation, Each Christian therefore may be glad and build on this foundation.  Your grace alone dear Lord I plead, your death is now my life indeed for you have paid my ransom." (vs. 6)

 

A Bold Church in an Age of Terror

—By Fredrik Sidenvall

Translated By Bror Erickson 

This article first appear in Kyrka och Folk Nr. 37 Sept 10 2015

Editor’s Note: This is the first of a three part series.

The gospel frees us from fear. It is the church’s great and glorious discovery and the church’s errand to humanity. With the boldness of this faith that Christ gives, the church has reached out to all peoples in good and bad times and taken great risks. This boldness is born from the belief that God is good and desires our best. God’s word is not a threat but a gift. The truth makes us both free and bold. This grace and redemption that Jesus won for all on the cross gives us the privilege to be God’s free and beloved children. From this secure relationship, the church of every age has found the courage to be different, despite various human power structures that wanted to get her to adapt and commit herself. 

We love the Church of Sweden. The message she has in her confession along with her historical commission to reach all people with the gospel is given by God. Yet today, we cannot escape seeing many decisions, choices and new teachings are typified by anxieties and fears. “What should people feel and think? How shall mass media see this?” In this manner the Church of Sweden has been reactionary. Her message is reactionary and formed by ideologies other than the gospel. Fears have crept in so deep that fellow Christians have begun yielding to others because external pressure. 

At the same time we see another movement among people. Those who have never been in the presence of the church’s life but are completely typified by post war era secular society are seeking answers to their questions. What they are looking for is not a dull mirror image of the one dimensional culture they come from, but they are looking for a fresh alternative. They rejoice to encounter a bold church. 

The bold church sees it as her call to work so that the Church of Sweden in its choices and decisions at all levels should be typified by a steadfast faith in God’s will and opportunities. We will work so that the Church of Sweden should be free and brave to openly step forward with the gospel as part of Christ’s worldwide church. It is our prayer and hope that the Church of Sweden shall return to the joy of her work and awaken the whole hearted commitment of the people. 

As you can see, there is the thought behind the slogan “Bold Church” such as receives validation from outside the borders of Sweden. It is a possession that is needed and which shines forth in a world typified by spiritual and physical terror. 

Now I think we should take a moment to study the bold church of the Old and New Testaments. First we will look at a few examples of the terror against which only the Holy Spirit can sustain the church’s boldness. 


4 And the Rabshakeh said to them, “Say to Hezekiah, ‘Thus says the great king, the king of Assyria: On what do you rest this trust of yours? 5 Do you think that mere words are strategy and power for war? In whom do you now trust, that you have rebelled against me?... 13 Then the Rabshakeh stood and called out in a loud voice in the language of Judah: “Hear the words of the great king, the king of Assyria! 14 Thus says the king: ‘Do not let Hezekiah deceive you, for he will not be able to deliver you. 15 Do not let Hezekiah make you trust in the Lord by saying, “The Lord will surely deliver us. This city will not be given into the hand of the king of Assyria.” (Isaiah 36:3–5, 13–15 ESV)


Opposition to a Bold Church

The opposition to the evangelium (gospel) is kakangelium (kakos means bad or evil in Greek) – the evil message, the bad news. It is precisely this kakangelium that Rabsheka, the Assyrian commander, who shows signs of being an apostate Jew, preaches to Jerusalem. He has with him a stunning military superiority. It is to that which is seen that the kakangelium draws attention, not to any invisible reality, not to some promise. Rabsheka cleverly attacks the faith that trusts in the Lord. He wants God’s people to think that they have the Lord himself against them, and that the Lord has sent enemies on account of their sin. 

Eliakim, King Hezekiah’s representative, quickly loses courage before what he sees and hears and now anxiously pleads with Rabsheka that he would not speak Hebrew but Aramaic. He is afraid that the people on the city walls shall hear and understand and panic. 

The situation reminds us of how we would like the liberal theologians and the learned armies of unbelief to speak theological and philosophical “Aramaic” and not the “Hebrew” of the people of the church so that panic would not spread from the pastors to the people. This is what we have experienced over the last twenty years in the Church of Sweden, that bishops and pastors have begun to proclaim for common church people the theology that has been taught in academia for the last hundred years. 

There is even an element of God’s word in the kakangelium according to Rabsheka. It is actually true that God will punish his people because they have set their hope on Egypt instead of the Lord. But the law that is proclaimed in the kakangelium never drives to Christ but only to despair. One can see a parallel to this in the life of the church today where unbelieving men emphasize the church’s historical mistakes and abuse of power and the church is expected to pray for forgiveness from one group or another. The forgiveness one hopes for is not the unconditional grace of God, but the highly conditional grace of man and media. Because it is the church’s traditional teaching that is seen as having led to the abuse, and the teaching of Christ and his redemption is part and parcel of this, the kakangelium does not drive one to Christ, but away from him to the arbitrariness of man where ultimately there is nothing but despair in the waiting. 

A strange picture in an old issue of the church’s newspaper shows an enormous stone erected in memory of the women who were burned as witches. In front of the stone stands the atheist (if he isn’t now a crypto-muslim) journalist and author Jan Guillou standing tall and talking, behind him and to the right has a woman who with her head held high, probably represents the witches, and to the left stands a little plump and hunched over bishop with his head hanging low giving us a picture of what a bold church is not. 

Now it is important to remember that the evil message is not only proclaimed as an attack against the Christian church. It is preached for all of humanity and has many faithful listeners. It focuses on two main areas, namely truth and conscience. As we have heard the bad news sounding stronger over the last century there have come to be two variations: 

  1. The modern variation which says that there is an unambiguous truth that all have to bow before, and this truth excludes all hope and confidence before material constraints and facing death, all that we have is here and now, and we are all subject to the unyielding laws of nature. 
  2. The postmodern variation which tells us that there are many truths and therefore no truth at all by extension. In this situation, when there isn’t any truth to seek or find, there remain only the truths one can argue. It is a courage of despair that we discern behind the politically correct defenses of the media and politicians. Joined by great desperation in the fight for the one constructed truth we find many different extremist groups such as the resurgence of ISIS followers and animal rights activists among others. 

The other area that the kakangelium speaks to is conscience. Here too, it goes along two diametrically opposed lines. Along the first line it is proclaimed that for the contemporary man there is no day of accounting to have before your eyes, no absolute norm by which to test yourself and by which one can have true guilt. All residual values from earlier eras, in particular norms with religious backgrounds must be fought and crushed in constantly new expression using films, art and music to affirm and celebrate the previously taboo. 


But when people are shaken in such a manner from peace in a normless everyday existence then the kakangelium spreads the realization of failure. When confession of true guilt is not permitted, the suppression leads to vague anxiety, self-hatred or shame. Shame that one is not happy, or not successful in one area or another, or not beautiful. Today, people experience a guilt in areas where God’s law never accuses them, and a thin hollow boldness in areas where there stands opposition to order of life and God himself. The false security and the false guilt is the perfect environment for the spiritual terrorists. Yes, today we experience the fruits of that which is in opposition to the boldness of the evangelium (the gospel) namely the kakangelium of fear: “and on the earth distress of nations in perplexity because of the roaring of the sea and the waves, people fainting with fear and with foreboding of what is coming on the world. (Luke 21:25-26 (ESV) 

It is in such a world characterized by the distress of the end times that the Holy Spirit builds up God’s bold church with the gospel. 


To be continued . . . 


Fredrik Sidenvall, pastor in the Church of Sweden, serves as principal for the Lutheran High School of Gothenburg, where he lives with his wife Anna. He is editor for the weekly Lutheran magazine Kyrka och Folk (Church and Nation) and co-founder of the North European Lutheran Academy. 

Bror Erickson is pastor at Zion Lutheran Church in Farmington New Mexico. He has translated and published several books including Then Fell the Lord's Fire by Bo Giertz and Witness by Hermann Sasse. 


As an extension of LOGIA, LOGIA Online understands itself to be a free conference in the blogosphere. As such, the views expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of LOGIA’s editorial board or the Luther Academy.

Integrating Faith and Learning With the Trinity

—by Mary H. Korte, Ph.D.

Faculties and administrators at Lutheran institutions often discuss the importance of integrating faith and learning; however, the percentage of called or even Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod (LCMS) professors at many Concordia University System (CUS) institutions has dramatically declined over the last decade while the percentage of non-LCMS professors has increased. Although these professors may be excellent scholars, proficient in their disciplines, and practicing Christians, they are often unfamiliar with Lutheran doctrine or have spent little, if any, time studying theology. Before asking, “How will I integrate faith and learning?” professors must ask, “Which faith will I integrate?” and “What elements of that faith should be integrated with learning in my discipline?” The goal at a Lutheran university should not be to integrate a generic spirituality, an inoffensive but vapid Christianity, or a New Age personal “faith” with learning. Instead, the goal should be to provide a robust Christian education that is compatible with Lutheran doctrine as understood by the LCMS and which integrates basic Christian theology with learning. A “Concordia education” should not describe merely an education for Christian students, courses taught by Christian faculty, or programs offered at an institution affiliated administratively, financially, and historically with the LCMS.

Because CUS schools are liberal arts universities offering diverse programs and sincere Christians disagree about some practices, e.g. communion, baptism, married clergy, or women’s ordination, certain questions are best left to theology courses. However, to integrate faith and learning and model Christian scholarship, all professors should consider C.S. Lewis’s “mere Christianity.” An authentic “Christian education” demands teaching and learning infused with an understanding of who God is and what our relationship with Him is as codified in the ecumenical creeds, all of which affirm God’s Triune nature. The Apostles’ Creed is an excellent starting point to integrate faith and learning through the Trinity in the liberal and fine arts, business, education, and professional programs.

Heresies about God’s nature have arisen throughout Church history. Creeds address heresies and affirm Scriptural teaching about God. CUS institutions employ faculty from many denominations; however, all orthodox Christian faiths confess the ecumenical creeds. The Apostles’ Creed is a theologically sound and universal statement for integrating faith and learning at CUS schools. Christianity is unique in its description of God as Triune. Although Scripture uses neither “Trinity” nor Triune, Trinitarian theology is derived from Scripture’s descriptions of God.  Lest we think theology is of little use, consider how C. S. Lewis compared theology to a map:

If a man…look[s] at the Atlantic…and then… at a map of the Atlantic, he…will be turning from something real to something less real….The map is…only coloured paper, but there are two things…to remember….[F]irst…, it is based on what…thousands of people have found…by sailing the real Atlantic….[I]t has behind it masses of experience just as real as the one you could have from the beach; only, while yours would be a single glimpse, the map fits all those different experiences together….[Secondly]...to go anywhere, the map is absolutely necessary. As long as you are content with walks on the beach, your own glimpses are far more fun….But the map is going to be more use…if you want to get to America.
[T]heology is like the map….Doctrines are not God: they are only a kind of map. But that map is based on the experience of hundreds of people who really were in touch with God—experiences compared with which any thrills or pious feelings you and I are likely to get on our own are very elementary and very confused…. [S]econdly, if you want to get any further, you must use the map….In fact, that is just why a vague religion—all about feeling God in nature, and so on—is so attractive. It is all thrills and no work; like watching the waves from the beach. But you will not get to Newfoundland by studying the Atlantic that way, and you will not get eternal life by simply feeling the presence of God in flowers or music.[1]

Although the Trinity may be seen as a problem, it is a solution. God is not alone: God is one essence and three distinct persons. God’s Triune nature models not only how we should interact with each other at CUS institutions, but also how we should act professionally. Humans, created in God’s image, are not designed to function as solitary academics but in an academic community. Although the Trinity may feel as if it does not make sense and analogies of the Trinity eventually break down, it is a theological map that helps us understand God’s nature. Why is the Trinity important? Without the Trinity, Jesus is not God because there was no Incarnation; however, only the Incarnation makes atonement possible. Jesus must be fully God to reconcile man with God. The Trinity also makes the resurrection possible. Trinitarian theology based on Scripture holds that there is only one God (1 Tim 2:5), the Father is God (2 Pet 1:17), the Son is God (Titus 2:13), the Holy Spirit is God (Acts 5:3-4), Jesus is God in human flesh (John 20:28), the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are separate, distinct persons (Luke 3:22), and all three persons of the Trinity have a role in our relationship with God (Matt 28:19). 

The Trinity is how God revealed that our relationship with him is with three divine persons, and our salvation depends on it. We should consider what it means for us, our vocations, and our scholarship that God is one in three persons, a blessed Trinity. The Apostles’ Creed has practical applications for integrating faith and learning because the Trinity is central to vocation in a Christian community. Seamands suggests that understanding and emphasizing the Trinity is critical because God’s Triune nature models how we should function in our ministry.[2] Integrating faith and learning is not just about academic content—it is also about how we interact with and support each other. We baptize, pray, worship, and receive the benediction in the Triune name of God. Why not also integrate faith and learning in the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit? We can then identify convergences among Trinitarian doctrine, Reformation theology, vocation, “mere” Christianity, Christian experience, and the heritage of Lutheran education. 

Christian vocation requires a Trinitarian, not just a monotheistic, vision and commitment. The Apostles’ Creed can set norms and expectations for faith and learning as we prepare students for service to Christ in the Church and the world because God is Triune. Through the Trinity, we understand what God expects with regard to interpersonal relationships, e.g. faculty with administration, faculty with faculty, faculty with students, and faculty with other scholars and professionals. Creedal Christianity is an important foundation for vocation and scholarship. Like Lewis’s map, the Apostles’ Creed is a map to direct our teaching ministry. When we confess the Apostles’ Creed, we affirm belief in the Trinity. The First Article acknowledges the work of God the Father, Creator of heaven and earth. The Second Article affirms the redemptive work of God the Son, the incarnate Christ who, by his atoning death on Calvary and his resurrection, brings salvation and eternal life to sinful beings. The Third Article describes the work of sanctification performed by the Holy Spirit in lives of individual Christians and through the “communion of saints” which is the Church.

Lutheran theology has historically concentrated not only on the connection but also the proper distinction between law and gospel because this was the heart of the Reformation. The law demands perfect obedience to God’s will and holy living, an impossible task for fallen humans, while the gospel promises forgiveness through God’s grace alone by faith in Jesus Christ. Lutheran educators often integrate faith with learning as it relates to redemption and sanctification, i.e. the second and third articles of the Apostles’ Creed but ignore the first article. As noted in Together with All Creatures, a report of the Commission on Theology and Church Relations (CTCR) of the LCMS, an unintended consequence of our Reformation heritage is that many Lutherans “have focused to such a degree on salvation that nothing else matters. [They say,] ‘I’m saved and am going to heaven, so why worry about this present world?’”[3] A significant exception has been in science where integrating faith with learning often ignores redemption and sanctification but emphasizes creation, i.e. first article theology, because it seeks to answer a basic question scientists ask, “How did this universe and everything in it begin?” Depending on one’s denomination, integration has focused on understanding the shortcomings of naturalistic evolutionary theories vis-à-vis theories such as Intelligent Design or young-earth creationism, analyzing how evolution and natural selection might conflict with Scripture, or exploring how theistic evolution or evolutionary creationism might be reconciled with Scripture. 

Using environmental science as an example, this paper will consider how the three articles of Apostle’s Creed are related to the integration of faith and learning. The First Article states that God the Father is Maker of heaven and earth. Luther (SC) explained 

I believe that God has made me and all creatures; that he has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my limbs, my reason, and all my senses, and still preserves them; in addition thereto, clothing and shoes, meat and drink, house and homestead, wife and children, fields, cattle, and all my goods; that he provides me richly and daily with all that I need to support this body and life, protects me from all danger, and guards me and preserves me from all evil; and all this out of pure, fatherly, divine goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness in me; for all which I owe it to him to thank, praise, serve, and obey him. This is most certainly true.

In response to rising environmental awareness in the 20th and 21st centuries, many Christian bodies, including the Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod (LCMS), the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA), and the Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod (WELS), developed statements outlining theological understandings of environmental stewardship and the responsibility of Christians to serve and obey God by caring for creation. In 1969, the LCMS noted that God the Father had tasked mankind with stewardship of the world’s natural and human resources, and it was resolved that the Church would develop educational materials about environmental stewardship (Res 10-08). In 1977, Synod adopted a resolution on energy conservation with particular concern regarding energy costs for people in poverty (Res 8-06).  In 1986, a resolution (Res7-18) concerning stewardship of soil and water was passed. In 1986, commentary in Luther’s Small Catechism stated, “It is our duty to…be good stewards of creation…We are good stewards when we avoid polluting air, land and water; carefully dispose of waste; use rather than waste natural resources; conserve rather than waste energy; recycle or reuse materials whenever possible; and value and take care of all God’s creation.”[4] A 1992 resolution affirmed natural resource conservation on local and national levels, and in 2000 the Stewardship Ministry division of the LCMS produced a booklet titled “Stewardship of Creation” to educate members about environmental stewardship. In 2007, Synod Res. 3-06 requested the CTCR “to develop a biblical and confessional report on responsible Christian stewardship of the environment.”[5] The CTCR study was released in April, 2010, as Together with All Creatures: Caring for God’s Living Earth. This analysis of where humans fit into creation and how we should live within creation is available as a booklet through Concordia Publishing House or on the LCMS website (www.lcms.org). It is excellent material to initiate discussion in environmental science, ecology, or related courses at Christian schools and is a resource professors can use to integrate faith and learning with respect to environmental issues and theological considerations surrounding responsible stewardship of earth’s resources.

The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America adopted a statement in 1993 which emphasized that “Christian concern for the environment is shaped by the Word of God spoken in creation, the Love of God hanging on a cross, [and] the Breath of God daily renewing the face of the earth.”[6] Notice how this parallels the three articles: it refers to the work of God the Father as Creator, God the Son as Redeemer, and God the Holy Spirit as Sustainer. The ELCA statement links environmental abuse with degradation of God’s gifts and notes that Scripture teaches God is the creator who blesses not only humans but also all the world. Because man and animals were all made from the earth, they share a common kinship. Man was tasked with tilling the earth and caring for other living creatures. Other documents include a call for environmental justice and sustainable living.  Issues such as mountaintop removal for coal mining, energy usage, and water scarcity and pollution are specifically addressed on the ELCA website.

The Wisconsin Evangelical Synod website summarizes Christian responses to environmental problems. It states that “[c]aring for the world in which we live is more than a political or economic issue. For the Christian it is a moral issue.”[7] Using numerous verses, the WELS document relates environmental degradation to sin and man’s fallen nature while noting that humans have been tasked to care for creation with benevolence while looking forward to inhabiting their heavenly home.

Considering only this brief summary, it is clear that the branches of American Lutheranism agree on principles of environmental stewardship. However, authors of many environmental science texts still present Lynn White, Jr.’s thesis as evidence that the Judeo-Christian heritage is at the root of the world’s environmental problems, and professors teaching courses other than environmental science need to understand and know how to counter White’s arguments. Understanding First Article theology is critical in many disciplines.

White argued that science and technology are rooted in Christian teachings about man’s relationship to God and nature. He wrote, “[W]hat people do about their ecology depends on what they think about themselves in relation to things around them.”[8] White is correct that what people believe about man relative to creation significantly influences how they treat nature. However, White incorrectly answered that Christianity teaches God created the world solely for human benefit and nature has only utilitarian value when he asked, “What did Christianity tell people about their relations with the environment?”[9] He concluded, “By destroying pagan animism, Christianity made it possible to exploit nature in a mood of indifference to the feelings of natural objects.”[10] Professors of environmental law, environmental policy, environmental ethics, environmental literature, environmental history, and environmental science can all counter White’s arguments with First Article theology.

Many connections exist between First Article theology and environmentally oriented courses. Most criticism of Christianity is derived from mistaken interpretations of Genesis 1:28 which proclaims, “God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it.  Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground.’” White wrote, “[m]an named all the animals, thus establishing his dominance over them.  God planned all of [creation] explicitly for man’s benefit and rule:  no item in…creation had any purpose save to serve man’s purposes.”[11] White’s error is three-fold:  1) he does not rightly consider the Biblical meaning of dominion; 2) he fails to consider the Fall’s effects, that is to say, that all men have inherited Adam’s sin and all creation has been affected; and 3) he does not understand the ethical significance that man was created in God’s image. White’s charges against Christianity fail to connect the First and Second Articles of the creed or extend them to the Third Article. When God created the world, he made humans in his image and gave them dominion over creation. Christ’s servant leadership, which is neither autocratic nor domineering, exemplifies what dominion means in this context. Jastram noted, “Dominion can be exercised without abuse.  Christians whose hearts have been changed by Christ are able to resist ‘lording it over’ others.”[12]

Many scientists can integrate faith and learning in relation to the First Article. Scientists follow God’s model when they create experimental protocols to gather data as they explore logic and design in the natural world. Students are accustomed to seeing how disciplines such as art, music, drama, or literature require creativity; however, they are often surprised when assigned a science problem that requires creativity for its solution. Since God created our human parents in his own image, all people are equal and deserve to be treated accordingly. Thus, when human subjects are involved, faculty and student researchers must submit proposals to an Institutional Review Board tasked with protocol approval in light of ethics and appropriate informed consent. Likewise, animals were created by and proclaimed “good” in God’s sight. Universities must have an Institutional Animal Care and Use Committee to review protocols using vertebrates.

Peter Pesic quoted Johannes Kepler as writing, “Geometry is unique and eternal, a reflection from the mind of God.  That mankind shares in it is because man is an image of God.”[13] Kepler was driven to “read the mind of God” and astronomers and NASA still use Kepler’s laws of planetary motion. Because God the Father declared his creation to be very good, science must acknowledge certain limits and take care not to exceed them. Issues such as cloning, stem cell research, and genetic engineering are familiar topics in bioethics. Less familiar cases, e.g. more than twenty U.S. nuclear weapons tests at Bikini Atoll (1946 to 1958) or the Tuskegee syphilis study (1932-1972) can also be discussed in light of the First Article and man’s proper use of creation. 

Although through one man’s sin we are now all born in sin and all creation suffers with us, we learn from the Second Article that by his perfect life, suffering, and death, Christ redeemed not only mankind but also all of creation. The fall and Christ’s redemption are cosmic and ultimately apply to all things, biotic and abiotic. Because we are redeemed and made in God’s image, we are called to be co-workers to care for and sustain creation. Luther’s explanation of the Second Article (SC) teaches us to confess

I believe that Jesus Christ, true God, begotten of the Father from eternity, and also true man, born of the Virgin Mary, is my Lord, who has redeemed me, a lost and condemned creature, purchased and delivered me from all sins, from death, and from the power of the devil, not with gold or silver, but with his holy, precious blood and with his innocent suffering and death, in order that I may be wholly his own, and live under him in his kingdom, and serve him in everlasting righteousness, innocence, and blessedness, even as he is risen from the dead, lives and reigns to all eternity. This is most certainly true.

In the Second Article, we confess that Jesus, God Incarnate, was crucified, died, and was buried. The purpose of his suffering and submission to the Father’s will was to redeem humanity “together with all creatures” because only his perfect sacrifice removes the stain of Adam’s sin. Creation’s redemption came with a heavy price, Christ’s blood. Although the full price of redemption has been paid, sin has irrevocably defiled God’s originally perfect world. Because of sin, all living things will suffer until Christ returns. The victory has been won; however, just as humans are able to use their creative talents to participate in God’s sustaining work in creation, they can also participate, albeit imperfectly and incompletely, in Christ’s work of redeeming the world from sin’s effects. The Fall produced the general effect of bringing death to all creatures; however, Christ descended into hell, defeated Satan, and rose triumphantly. He will come again to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. Those who through grace have faith in Christ will share life in his eternal kingdom. Although we can do nothing to cancel the general effect of sin, God Incarnate has done so for us. However, the Fall produces on-going effects of sin in this world. Sinful abuse of natural resources defiles and pollutes our environment. When we encourage students to be responsible stewards because the world belongs to God who created and redeemed it, we are in a small but significant way modeling Christ’s Second Article work.

  Whenever we relieve human or animal suffering though our vocations, we are partially ameliorating sin’s terrible effects. Many CUS programs prepare students for vocations that relieve suffering. Applied science examples include physical or occupational therapy, athletic training, nursing, psychology or counseling, pharmacy, pre-medical or pre-veterinary majors, and a physician assistant program. Service learning projects can be especially useful in these disciplines if students are taught that by helping others they are acting as “little Christs” in service to their neighbor. Not only is this related to the Second Article, but it also exemplifies the purpose of CUS schools.  For example, the mission statement of Concordia University Wisconsin is to be a “Lutheran higher education community committed to helping students develop in mind, body, and spirit for service to Christ in the Church and the World.”

Unless we ground our service in the Creed, it can be compassionate and professional; however, it is not different from a secular model and our service is indistinguishable from generic caring. A secular model of scholarship, e.g. Boyer’s Model, might see scholarship of teaching and learning through a lens of originality, humanitarian or community service, and professional/personal self-improvement or development. A Trinitarian model relates scholarship to God the Father as creator, God the Son as redeemer, and God the Holy Spirit as sanctifier and comforter. This model is fuller and richer, has lasting spiritual meaning, and motivates us to practice our vocation for the glory of God in service to our neighbor. 

Knowing Christ died to redeem all creation leads us to consider how the Third Article, i.e., addressing sanctification, relates to scholarship and vocation. As an example from environmental science, the Holy Spirit guides us to repent of misusing God’s gifts and natural resources, grow in faith, trust that God daily forgives us, and in repentance truly desire to care for our fallen world, its suffering creatures, and polluted ecosystems. Paul Althaus wrote that Luther believed “All creatures are God’s masks and disguises; He permits them to work with him and help him create all sorts of things—even though he could and does create without their co-operation.”[14] However, unregenerate sinners see only the mask of God, namely the creature, and cannot see God. This ultimately leads to idolatry and a mechanistic, utilitarian view of nature. Luther warned that humans should be humble with regard to creation:  we are creatures and co-workers with God but we are not co-creators. In fact, the Fall was due to human desire to be gods. Although God gave Adam and Eve free will to obey him, they had limited freedom with regard to creation; they were forbidden to eat of the Tree of Knowledge. Their use of nature had boundaries as should ours. God is active in creation through human agents as they practice their vocations and grow in faith through the Holy Spirit’s guidance. As professors, administrators, citizens, civic leaders, government officials, clergy, students, scholars, or researchers, we are responsible for preserving as much of the broader image of God as possible as we fulfill God’s calling to practice creation care. 

Once we see this large theological picture and relate environmental ethics to all three Creedal articles, we can counter the charge that Christianity is the root cause of environmental problems and instead proclaim that Christianity is the best way to address environmental issues. Luther understood the effect of sin on creation is such that “All our faculties today are leprous, indeed dull and utterly dead….[T]he knowledge of nature—that we should know all the qualities of trees and herbs, and…beasts—is utterly beyond repair in this life.”[15] He was appalled that although “… [God] has granted us the enjoyment and, as it were, the rule of almost all the creatures….almost all of us live in the most shocking abuse of the gifts of God”[16] because environmental degradation, particularly with regard to logging and mining practices, was already evident in his time. 

When God gave man dominion over earth, it was not his intent that we should drive species to extinction or destroy habitat with a consequent loss of biodiversity.  Centuries before the LCMS published Together with All Creatures, Luther wrote, “This Word assigns to all creatures their function and also preserves all creatures that they may not degenerate but that the distinct species may be preserved in endless propagation.”[17] Luther understood that only humans are moral agents; therefore, other creatures depend on us to exercise dominion carefully and justly.  We have been given dominion but not freedom to abuse either humans or non-human organisms. Environmental problems come from sins such as greed, corruption, or self-centeredness that result from disobedience and disrespect for God’s gift of dominion. Environmental degradation and injustice are the consequences of sinfully ignoring the Genesis 2:15 mandate to “work and keep” the Garden, i.e. to cultivate and preserve it which would develop a fruitful relationship with earth and all creatures; it is not the result of man having been given lordship of creation. Because all men have sinned, the “tragedy of the commons” is seen in all, not just Christian, cultures.

When teaching about faith, both law and gospel should be in each lesson. Beyond understanding that environmental degradation results from sin, students can be reminded of God’s immanence in creation and that through the incarnation, He took on human flesh to redeem fallen man as well as the fallen creation including all species and ecosystems. As redeemed creatures wearing the masks of God, we are privileged to work for Him as we practice environmental stewardship. We, together with all creatures, share in Christ’s redemption and are ecologically interdependent in this physical world.

Both man and nature have intrinsic, not merely utilitarian, value because Christ died for all creation. God does not sustain his creation as a distant power but is one with creation while remaining separate as he maintains an active and holy presence in it.  God did not create the natural world, its creatures, and mankind simply to withdraw from them as some might argue.  Instead, God remains involved in his creation and with all his creatures not only in ways that are discernible to human senses but also through means we do not know or fully comprehend.  This understanding is not animistic but is similar to Luther’s teaching that the infinite can be found in the finite (finitum capax infiniti). Paradoxically, there can be transcendence in immanence. Both biotic and abiotic elements of nature, including mankind, are masks of God in this world and as such, creation reveals God. When studying ecology, students can see both law and gospel: God’s wrath as evident in the physical death and decay of all organisms as well as God’s love for his creatures as evident by his provision through natural cycles and ecological checks and balances. Even so, we must remember that the Word is needed for salvation because only through the Word comes faith in Christ’s redemptive work.

Just as the Apostles’ Creed clarifies the mystery of the Trinity, our vocational calling to serve God as scholars and teachers should include an attempt to clarify mysteries in our academic disciplines. We should acknowledge what we don’t know, work to correct our errors and learn from them, and accept in humility that we cannot expect to know or understand everything. We will make mistakes, we will sin, and we will fall short not only of God’s desires for us but also fall short of our own expectations. Regardless, we can live in blessed confidence as we say with Luther (SC)

I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Ghost has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith; even as He calls, gathers, enlightens, and sanctifies the whole Christian Church on earth, and keeps it with Jesus Christ in the one true faith; in which Christian Church He forgives daily and richly all sins to me and all believers, and at the last day will raise up me and all the dead, and will give to me and to all believers in Christ everlasting life. This is most certainly true.

Luther clearly understood that by nature we are poor stewards of the environment.  He wrote, “This is the universal bane of our nature, that we are not satisfied with God’s gifts but abuse them and thus mock their Donor and Creator.”[18] However, when we confess the Third Article, we trust that the Holy Spirit is empowering us to grow in holy, God-pleasing living and service to others. If we integrate this truth of faith with learning, we can model a joyful and thankful response to the working of the Holy Spirit in our teaching, research, and environmental stewardship as we live our earthly lives “together with all creatures.”  



Dr. Mary Korte is a called LCMS Professor in the Department of Natural Sciences, Concordia University Wisconsin


[1] C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity in The Complete C.S. Lewis Signature Classics (NY: HarperCollins, 2002), 127–28.

[2] Stephen Seamands, Ministry in the Image of God: The Trinitarian Shape of Christian Service (Westmont, IL: IVP Books, 2005).

[3] Commission on Theology and Church Relations (CTCR) of Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod, Together with All Creatures, (St. Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House, 2010), 6.

[4] CTCR, Together, 5.

[5] CTCR, Together, 5.

[6] http://www.elca.org/What-We-Believe/Social-Issues/Social-Statements/Environment.aspx

[7] http://www.wels.net/news-events/forward-in-christ/february-1990/environment

[8] Lynn White, Jr., “The Historical Roots of Our Ecological Crisis,” Science 155 (1967): 1205.

[9] White, Historical Roots, 1205.

[10] White, Historical Roots, 1205.

[11] White, Historical Roots, 1205.

[12] Nathan Jastram, “Man as Male and Female: Created in the Image of God,” Concordia Theological Quarterly 68, no. 1 (January 2004): 24.

[13] Peter Pesic, Labyrinth: A Search for the Hidden Meaning of Science (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2001), 90.

[14] Paul Althus, The Theology of Martin Luther (Fortress Press, 1966), 107–8.

[15] LW 1:66.

[16] LW 1:245.

[17] LW 1:95–96.

[18] LW 1:244.


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