Friday, 1 June 2018

Introducing Martin Luther

By James Edward McGoldrick

The Reformer’s Preparation

By the dawn of the sixteenth century the Roman Catholic Church had endured scandals and heresies within, and schismatics had attacked it from without. Catholic humanist scholars had criticized the ignorance of the priesthood, the moral laxity and incompetence of bishops and popes, and hostile relations between church and state had punctuated the Middle Ages. Earlier efforts to reform the church had brought no lasting results, and laymen had no voice in doctrinal matters, very little in papal policy. General councils of the church had sought to address specific abuses, but Renaissance popes prohibited further counciliar meetings and reigned as ecclesiastical monarchs.

When the Protestant Reformation began, it included complaints about ignorance, corruptions and abuses of power, but it did not stop there. Under the leadership of Martin Luther (1483–1546), Protestants proposed a radical departure from tradition on the matter of sin and salvation, and in doing so, they defied the whole structure of church authority. Sola Scriptura—Scripture alone—became their slogan, as they reexamined the entire content of the medieval church in the light of the Bible.

Germany became the birthplace of the Reformation, at least in part, because, in the providence of God, political conditions there allowed considerable freedom from the control of the papacy and the Holy Roman Empire. Germany was the birthplace of the printing press, without which the Reformation might have failed, and the German expression of Catholicism featured an evident discontent with the formal character of traditional worship. Among the Rhineland mystics, for example, there was a pronounced refusal to regard true religion as the proper performance of prescribed rituals. German merchants often decried the financial exactions of Rome, and German scholars resented ecclesiastical interference with their academic freedom.
The time was ripe for the birth of. .. the Reformation, but [its] principles had to be experienced in the soul of some forceful personality before they could become dynamic for subsequent ages. In its main features the Reformation was the experience, not of an individual, but of the Church. Luther was the forceful personality chosen to precipitate the move and give it its substance. [1]
When reform came to Germany, it was an effort to restore New Testament principles in doctrine and practice. The major influences upon this endeavor came from the apostle Paul and the church father Augustine of Hippo (354–430). The content of the reform was truly catholic in substance in the sense of being the doctrine of the early church which had been subverted and eclipsed by Pelagianism and medieval Scholasticism. Luther took delight in affirming ancient formulations such as the Creed of Nicea (325), and as long as he led the Protestant movement, the goal was reform of the existing church. His church therefore retained more Catholic forms than most other Protestant bodies because he believed that there was much in the Catholic tradition that was good and true.

Although Luther’s form of Protestantism was conservative, it contradicted the heart of late medieval theology, for Luther demanded theocentric religion in which the glory of God, not human salvation, is paramount. This clashed with the egocentric belief of most medieval Catholics who sought salvation through works of righteousness made possible by grace dispensed through the sacraments of the church.

Martin Luther was born in the Saxon town of Eisleben November 10, 1483, which was the feast of St. Martin, whose name Hans and Margareta Luther bestowed upon their son at his baptism. Although the family had roots in the peasantry, Hans Luther was a moderately prosperous copper miner at the time of Martin’s birth.

Home life for the Luthers featured a mixture of typical medieval piety and Teutonic superstitions which led people to believe that demons and witches infested the atmosphere. Martin all of his life regarded Satan as a vicious enemy who sought to destroy him.

Martin’s formal education included study at the Mansfeld Latin School, a year under the instruction of the Brethren of the Common Life at Magdeburg, and a period at the town school in Eisenach. In 1501 he enrolled at the University of Erfurt, from which he received the Bachelor and Master of Arts degrees in preparation for the study of law. Erfurt was Germany’s foremost university especially renowned for the teaching of law. The undergraduate curriculum of liberal arts and the Master of Arts program in philosophy prepared Luther well for his professional education, but he suddenly abandoned the study of law and became a monk in July 1505.

The dominant philosophic position at Erfurt was Occamism, a teaching derived from a fourteenth-century Franciscan, William of Occam (d. 1349). Adherents to Occam’s philosophy contended that the doctrines of Christianity are all products of revelation to be received by faith.

They denigrated the Aristotelian teaching of Thomas Aquinas (c. 1225–74) with its emphasis upon the authority of reason. Luther adopted this view and maintained it steadfastly, as his espousal of sola Scriptura bears witness.

Luther’s decision to enter the monastery of the Augustinian Hermits at Erfurt seems to have been due to deep anxiety about death. Bubonic plague appeared in Erfurt that year, so Luther witnessed the carnage. To add to the terror of that experience, he encountered a severe lightning storm in which he thought he would perish. In anguish he appealed to St. Anne, the patroness of miners, to intercede with God, and he promised that he would reciprocate by becoming a monk. Much to the dismay of his parents, Martin passed through the gates of the Black Cloister to become a friar. In doing so, he had chosen the lifestyle which his church extolled as the best means to obtain salvation.

Study in the cloister included the Bible, the church fathers, and medieval theologians. Life in the monastery emphasized humility and obedience, and monks had to beg as a means to encourage their submission to the rules of the order. Luther devoted himself to such duties with a rigor that exceeded the requirements, and prolonged fasting and sleepless nights in prayer seem to have injured his health.

Although the medieval church portrayed monasticism as the zenith of holiness, the regimen of the cloister led Luther deeper into spiritual distress. He endured Anfechtungen, times of anxiety which brought him to the brink of despair. He regarded these experiences as attacks from Satan, and he refused to allow them to keep him from prodigious work. The Anfechtungen bothered him all his life, but the times of such afflictions were some of the most productive periods of his life. Luther suffered from several physical ailments, but attempts to explain the Anfechtungen by connecting them with specific bodily ills have failed.

The major source of Luther’s anxiety about sin and salvation may have been the theology he learned as a monk. Medieval teachers, especially Gabriel Biel (c. 1420–95), held that one must earn the grace of God by doing quod in se est, what is within him, that is, exerting oneself to love God perfectly, which Luther found impossible to do.

Luther’s unusually sensitive conscience led him to confess his sins frequently to Johann Staupitz (d. 1524), his monastic superior. Staupitz advised the troubled friar to cease trying to transform self-love into perfect love for God, as Biel had taught. While his superior was sympathetic with Luther’s plight, he did not have the profound sense of personal sin that perplexed Luther. He counseled his distraught monk to concentrate on the love of God rather than upon the divine wrath against sinners. Still Luther found that impossible to do, and the sight of the crucifix frightened him. He was especially disturbed by Bible passages which proclaim the righteousness of God and demand righteousness from humans. Later, as he reflected upon his time as a monk, Luther exclaimed: “I was. .. more than once driven to the very abyss of despair, so that I wished I had never been created. Love God? I hated him.” [2] The observation of historian Philip Schaff is appropriate in this regard.
He [Luther] could not point to any particular transgression; it was sin as a corruption of nature, sin as a state of alienation from and hostility to God that weighed on his mind like an incubus and brought him at times to the brink of despair. [3]
Martin Luther always maintained an admiration and affection from Johann Staupitz, even though the latter did not support him in contentions with Rome. From Staupitz Luther learned that, when Jesus Christ calls people to Himself, he requires that they repent for their sins (Mark 1:15). The Latin Vulgate Bible, which Luther had been studying however, rendered the verb do penance, which most Catholics construed to be a demand for penitential good works to atone for sin. While this discovery did not immediately transform Luther’s thinking about God, sin, and salvation, Staupitz’ insight proved very beneficial, as Luther developed his understanding of the gospel. In a tribute to his adviser, Luther wrote:
If I did not praise Staupitz, I would be a damned papistical ass, ... for he was my first father in this teaching, and he bore me in Christ. If Staupitz had not helped me, I would have been swallowed and left in hell. [4]
Luther became a priest in 1507, and the awesome responsibilities of that office increased his uncertainty. He remained fearful in his relations with God, and officiating at the holy sacrifice of the mass brought no relief. A journey to Rome on business for the Augustinian order in 1510 led to further distress, for there he witnessed some of the flagrant worldliness of the Renaissance church. In 1511 Staupitz assigned Luther to a teaching position at the new University of Wittenberg, and that institution conferred the Doctor of Theology degree upon him the next year. As a professor of biblical studies Luther lectured on Psalms, Romans, Galatians, and Hebrews, and during these years he formed his own basic theology.

Luther’s lectures on Romans show that he regarded egoism as the root of sin. Very slowly the methodical study of Scripture enabled him to overcome his deep fear of God as a grim judge. The instrumental cause of Luther’s conversion was his careful exegesis of the New Testament. While studying Romans 1:17 he learned that the righteousness God requires He actually confers as a gift, sola gratia, by grace alone. Luther likened this discovery to a new birth, an experience of paradise on earth. Writing about his exegetical detection, the Reformer asserted:
...a totally other face of the entire Scripture showed itself to me....Later I read Augustine’s The Spirit and the Letter, where...I found that he too interpreted God’s righteousness in a similar way, as the righteousness with which God clothes us when he justifies us. [5]
The doctrine of justification by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone became the material principle of the Reformation, the article by which, in Luther’s view, the church would stand or fall. The exact date of this Turmerlebnis—tower experience—is not clear, but it is evident that Luther had reached his understanding of justification sola fide—through faith alone—sometime before he became involved in controversy with the papacy.

The Reformer’s Work

Diligent study of Scripture and the writings of St. Augustine led Martin Luther gradually away from approved doctrines and practices of his church, although he did not perceive that a drift was occurring. He nevertheless was developing serious disagreements with such traditional authorities as Peter Lombard (d. 1160), Thomas Aquinas, and Gabriel Biel, and he was able to convince some of his professorial colleagues to accept his understanding. Luther boldly proposed a reform of university education to dispense with traditional Scholastic theology in favor of more direct Bible study and more attention to the works of Augustine.

Luther’s first public dispute with his church occurred in October 1517, when Dominican friar Johann Tetzel (1470–1519) appeared on the border of Saxony selling certificates of indulgence, and some of Luther’s parishioners at St. Mary’s Church, where he had been preaching, informed him they did not need the repentance he had been proclaiming. This led Dr. Luther to compose the Ninety-five Theses as a formal protest and a call for an academic disputation about the sale. The theses appeared in Latin, which shows that Luther intended them only for fellow scholars. His students, however, translated them into German and circulated them widely, which quickly made the matter a subject of public discussion.

Indulgences had a long history, and they were originally an instrument of church discipline, as authorities imposed earthly penalties upon errant church members. In order to evade such strictures (for example, the requirement to undertake a pilgrimage to a distant shrine), one might make a financial contribution to the church and thereby obtain an indulgence, a commutation of the penalty. At first indulgences had no application beyond the remission of temporal penalties, but in the thirteenth century Paris theologian Alexander of Hales (d. 1245) formulated the concept of a Treasury of Merit of which the pope was custodian. According to this teaching, the great saints of history, by their good deeds, earned more than enough merit for salvation. God has entrusted the excess merit to the pope, who may dispense it to needy souls. Pope Clement VI (1342–52) gave official approval to this doctrine in 1343, and Pope Sixtus IV (1471–84) extended coverage to souls in purgatory. Thereafter the sale of certificates of indulgence became a lucrative practice, and one-third of the proceeds went into the papal treasury, although purchasers did not know it.

The specific sale of indulgences that aroused Luther was due to an agreement between Pope Leo X (1513–21) and Albrecht von Brandenburg (1490–1545). Albrecht had accumulated a large debt to the banking firm of Fugger, loans with which he purchased a papal dispensation that allowed him to become an archbishop prior to reaching the canonical age and to hold several bishoprics concurrently. Leo X sought funds to build St. Peter’s basilica in Rome as a monument to his role as a Renaissance pontiff. The pope therefore agreed to the sale, and Tetzel became the vendor of indulgences. The pope and the archbishop were to divide the income between them.

When the Dominican friar appeared near Saxony, he took advantage of public credulity by leading people to believe that his certificates would assure them of salvation and obtain immediate release of their loved ones from purgatory. To promote the sale he recited a jingle: so bald der Pfennig im Kasten klingt, die Seele aus dem Fegfeuer springt! “As soon as the coin in the coffer klings, the soul out of purgatory springs!”

When Luther issued his Ninety-five Theses, he thought naively that the pope would appreciate his effort to combat a scandalous corruption. He said, “If the pope knew the exactions of the indulgence preachers, he would rather that the basilica of St. Peter were burned to ashes that built with the skins, flesh, and bones of his sheep.” [6] The Ninety-five Theses did not call for the abolition of indulgences but for an end to abuses. Luther did deny that the church could remit guilt for sin and that indulgences could benefit the dead. His first thesis actually subverted the whole concept of indulgences, though Luther did not realize it. He wrote, “When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said repent, he willed the entire life of believers to be one of repentance.” [7] Thesis thirty-six affirms: “Any truly repentant Christian has a right to full remission of penalty and guilt, even without indulgence letters.” [8]

When the sale of indulgences declined as a result of Luther’s complaint, Tetzel and the Dominicans accused the Wittenberg theologian of heresy, and Leo X ordered the Augustinians to silence Luther. His order, however, took no action against him, and Prince Frederick of Saxony insisted that the controversial monk receive a hearing in Germany, not in Rome. There was much public acclaim for Luther, but Rome sought to stop him. In the year 1517 Leo X created thirty-nine new cardinals for which he collected the sum of 500,000 ducats; so the pope had a large financial stake in the indulgence controversy as well. The entire faculty at the University of Wittenberg supported Luther’s stand.

Meetings with papal emissaries did not move Luther, and he began in private to express the suspicion that the pope was Antichrist. In a public debate with Scholastic theologian Johan Eck (1486–1543) at Leipzig in 1519, Dr. Luther insisted upon the supremacy of Scripture over the papacy, and in doing so he enunciated what became the formal principle of the Protestant Reformation—sola Scriptura.

The year 1520 was very productive for Luther as an author. Among his publications were The Liberty of a Christian and The Babylonian Captivity of the Church, two of his most important works.

In the treatise on Christian liberty, Luther extolled the role of faith as a gift from God by which believing sinners receive right standing with their Creator on the basis of Christ’s death for their sins. Saving faith brings freedom from condemnation and sin’s tyranny. How then are Christians to use their liberty? In the Reformer’s words, “A Christian is a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none. A Christian is a perfectly dutiful servant of all, subject to all.” [9] He based this on 1 Corinthians 9:19, where Paul wrote, “Though I am free from all men, I have made myself a slave to all.” Luther took this to mean “love by its very nature is ready to serve and be subject to him who is loved.” [10] Christian liberty does not lead to license but to eagerness to love one’s neighbors and to serve them accordingly. Luther had a profound understanding of the social responsibilities which accompany genuine faith. Faith binds Christians to God, and love binds them to their neighbors.

Luther addressed The Liberty of a Christian to Leo X in a sincere attempt to conciliate the pope. There is no evidence that Leo read it, and conciliation was by then impossible, so long as Luther insisted upon sola Scriptura.

The Babylonian Captivity of the Church is not at all conciliatory in character. It is an assault upon the sacramental system by which, Luther claimed, Rome kept people in bondage to fear. The Wittenberg scholar rejected five of the seven sacraments because he could find a biblical basis for only two, baptism and the eucharist. He denied that priests in the sacrament of penance could remit sins, and he rejected transubstantiation, the doctrine that the mass is a reenactment of Calvary in which priests change bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ. Luther held that Christ is present in the eucharist “in, with, and under the bread and wine,” but there is no change in the substance of those elements. He argued that laymen as well as pastors are entitled to drink from the sacramental cup.

On the subject of baptism Luther held tenaciously to the view that infants are proper recipients of the sacrament and that baptism imparts regeneration. He did not attribute any miraculous power to the water, but he held that the Word of God, which is applied with the water, makes it a “washing of regeneration in the Holy Spirit.” [11] He taught that faith makes baptism effectual—faith in the promise of salvation which the sacrament signifies. Infants as well as adults may possess faith, since it is a gift from God which He may impart sovereignly regardless of one’s age. Luther cited the example of John the Baptist, whose prenatal faith caused him to leap in his mother’s womb when she received her cousin Mary and realized “the mother of my Lord” had come to visit her (Luke 1:39–45).

Publication of Luther’s treatises in 1520 led to a threat of excommunication from the pope. The Reformer responded by burning the papal document. Luther had become a heretic in the eyes of the church and an outlaw in the eyes of Holy Roman Emperor Charles V (1519–58), who in 1521 summoned his professorial subject to appear before the Diet of Worms, the imperial assembly of ecclesiastical and secular lords. Since Charles, a Spaniard, did not have a secure position in Germany, he was anxious to enhance his prestige by obtaining a recantation from Luther. A common religion was the only basis for unity in his empire, so Charles regarded the healing of the schism as a necessity.

Luther saw the summons to Worms as providing a forum in which he could expound the gospel, but the emperor would not allow that. Luther was not to expostulate but to answer an interrogation from the archbishop of Trier, who demanded an unequivocal recantation. Luther rose to the challenge with the greatest speech of his career. He said:
Since your serene majesty and your lordships seek a simple answer, I will give it in this manner, neither horned nor toothed: Unless I am convinced by the testimony of the Scriptures or by clear reason (for I do not trust either in the pope or in councils alone, since it is well known that they have often erred and contradicted themselves), I am bound by the Scriptures I have quoted, and my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and will not retract anything, since it is neither safe nor right to go against conscience. I cannot do otherwise, here I stand, may God help me. [12]
Emperor Charles addressed the princes after Luther spoke. “I am determined to proceed against him as a notorious heretic, requesting you to conduct yourselves in this matter as good Christians, as you have promised.” [13] The Edict of Worms then declared Luther a menace to the state, even though he had loudly professed his loyalty to the empire.

Charles V honored his promise by allowing the dissident theologian to leave Worms in peace, but for the rest of his life the emperor remained an implacable enemy of the Reformation. He told his council of state that he wanted to destroy heresy “so that historians writing that it started in my reign, should be able to state that, with my help and industry, it came to an end.” [14] In the emperor’s retirement he urged his son Philip II (1556–98) to burn Protestants in the Netherlands. [15]

While Luther was returning from Worms, agents of Prince Frederick of Saxony seized him and sequestered him at the Wartburg Castle, where he remained for almost a year. It seems that Frederick wanted to remove him from the arena of controversy in the hope that his absence would reduce tensions. The prince meanwhile sought to arrange a general council of the church to give his monk a fair hearing.

During his stay at Wartburg, Luther translated the New Testament from Greek into German in eleven weeks! There had been earlier German versions, but they were dialectical renderings of only local usefulness. Luther’s mastery of language enabled him to produce a Bible for all Germans, and in the process he became the father of Hochdeutsch—High German—the national tongue.

While in seclusion at the castle, Luther wrote sermons as patterns for other preachers and treatises on issues of current debate. One such issue was the extent of changes to be initiated at Wittenberg and the speed with which to enact them. Conditions were favorable to implement reforms that would bring the church at Wittenberg more closely into conformity with biblical patterns, but in Luther’s absence leadership fell into the hands of radicals, and Andrew Karlstadt (1480–1541), senior professor of theology at the university, allowed himself to be enticed into endorsing sweeping changes accompanied by violent demonstrations. Angry mobs abused priests and nuns and destroyed Roman Catholic church buildings. Similar outbreaks occurred at Erfurt. Three self-appointed “prophets” from Zwickau claimed divine revelation through visions, and the agitators threatened to destroy public order. Luther quickly returned to Wittenberg and denounced social revolution and all use of force to compel changes in religion. He took the lead in organizing a conservative reformation which sought only such changes as Scripture required. He espoused the normative principle of worship, which meant the abolition of all practices that contradicted the gospel but allowed retention of traditional ceremonies which did not. Soon sympathetic princes in other German states endorsed Luther’s conception of reform, and thereby they promoted the extension of the evangelical movement. They especially appreciated Luther’s efforts to prevent social upheaval when the country erupted in the Peasants’ War (1524–25), a conflict Luther denounced as due to demonic inspiration.

Most German peasants were very poor, and their landlords were, in general, unsympathetic toward them. When Luther learned about the peasant revolt, he made a plea for conciliation by issuing a treatise titled An Admonition to Peace. Therein he denied that the gospel promises social equality, and he denounced violence, while he asked the princes to improve the lot of the poor. Luther preached in troubled areas at the risk of his life, but he could not stop the destruction. In desperation he wrote Against the Thieving, Murdering Hordes of Peasants, in which he called upon the princes to smash the rebels, who plundered over 150 monasteries, raped nuns, burned castles, and stole their landlords’ possessions. By the time the civil rulers had restored order, at least 50,000 people had died. Critics of Luther have ever since that tragedy blamed him for the cruelty which the princes inflicted, but he did not apologize for his position. With or without his advice, the authorities were bound to crush the rebels, and Luther’s intemperate expressions had little effect upon the outcome. Contrary to Luther’s counsel, the landlords increased their demands upon the defeated peasants.

As a consequence of the war, many peasants lost confidence in Luther and became Anabaptists, although thousands remained supportive toward the Wittenberg Reformer. Luther relied increasingly upon the princes for protection, and they assumed growing authority over the evangelical churches.

Throughout the infancy of the German Reformation, Holy Roman Emperor Charles V desired to crush the dissidents, but wars with the French and the Turks preempted his attention. By 1529, however, Charles was victorious over the French and therefore ready to deal forcefully with the Lutherans. At a meeting of the imperial diet in Speyer in 1529 his council revoked earlier concessions and forbade further extension of the reform. Five princes and representatives of fourteen cities filed a formal protest against that action, and ever after the evangelicals were known as Protestants. They justified opposition to imperial policy as their duty to “obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). Charles announced that he would appear in person to take charge of the matter.

Rather than initiate military action against the Protestants, the emperor convened a meeting of the diet at Augsburg in 1530, and there he allowed each side in the dispute to present its case. Philipp Melanchthon spoke for the Lutheran side by reading a theological statement which emphasized areas in which Catholics and Lutherans agreed, although it did not minimize the distinctive doctrines of the Wittenberg Reformers. His presentation, now known as the Augsburg Confession of Faith, became the most broadly accepted expression of Lutheran theology, and it remains the classical statement of Lutheran orthodoxy.

A Catholic theologian read the Roman Confutation, and Emperor Charles slept through the entire proceeding. He nevertheless decreed that the evangelical position had been refuted, and he threatened to move against the “heretics” with force. Luther did not attend the diet because he was under the ban of the empire with a price upon his head. He remained a distance away at Coburg Castle, where he received reports about the gathering. He became frustrated by what he learned, and he feared that Melanchthon had been too conciliatory. Luther exclaimed:
I would sooner fall with Christ than stand with the emperor.... In God’s name I free you from this diet; go home again! If the emperor wants to send out an edict, let him do it.... We take the emperor as emperor and nothing more, nothing further! Home, home—the Lord protect you! [16]
After Augsburg tension between Catholics and Protestants became severe, and Germany divided into two armed camps. Fighting erupted in 1546, soon after Luther died. Several times, when the imperial forces were at the threshold of victory, the Turkish threat in Eastern Europe distracted the emperor and relieved pressure on the German Protestants. By 1555 the two sides were exhausted, and the princes forged a settlement without the emperor’s participation. Catholics and Lutherans granted toleration to one another because neither side could win militarily.

Despite the opposition of the Holy Roman Emperor and the Catholic princes, the Reformation spread rapidly across Germany and soon penetrated non-German lands as well. Geographic extension alone could not, however, assure success. Luther learned early that the numbers of people who adhered to his cause did not, in some cases, indicate an informed commitment to his doctrine. A visitation of the parishes in Saxony revealed that the spiritual condition of the people was often deplorable. Former priests led evangelical congregations, but neither pastors nor people had an adequate understanding of the faith. This dismal situation prompted Luther to compose his Small Catechism (1529) as a means to combat ignorance and to provide unlearned pastors with the tools to instruct their congregations in the elementary truths of Christianity. In a series of questions Luther expounded the Ten Commandments, the Apostles’ Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and the sacraments.

Publication of the Small Catechism for laymen and the Large Catechism for pastors helped to spread the message of the Reformation widely and quickly. Evangelical princes assisted the work of the Reformers by ordering that worship practices conform to biblical doctrine. They therefore prohibited masses for the dead, idolatrous use of images, and the sacrificial observance of the mass. Preaching became the central feature of worship, laymen regained access to the communion cup, and hymns and liturgies in the German language enabled common people to participate intelligently in worship on a plane of equality with their pastor. The Bible and the catechisms in German became spiritual staples in the homes of multitudes of people.

The Reformer’s Legacy

Luther’s theology featured a leap across centuries of semi-Pelagianism to restore the primacy of teaching which magnified divine grace—soli Deo gloria. The Reformer’s great problem with sin and guilt he blamed on egocentricity—self-centeredness. “To his egocentric question, ... Luther received a theocentric answer, which became thenceforward his dominant all-embracing theme.” [17] Luther came to despise man-centered religion.

Martin Luther was primarily a Bible expositor and a writer about doctrinal themes, not a systematic theologian. He made faith the key word in his vocabulary, and in his reaction against the scholastic theology of the Catholic universities, he expressed intense dislike for those who relied upon Aristotle’s philosophy to explicate and defend their beliefs. In Luther’s judgment, “virtually the entire Ethics of Aristotle is the worst enemy of grace.” [18]

Luther’s disdain for Aristotle and those who regarded him as an authority for Christians reflects the Reformer’s complete reliance upon God’s grace for salvation. Religious intellectualism and mystical pietism he scorned in favor of entire trust in the gospel as God has revealed it, for faith alone can approach God and know Him savingly. [19]

For Luther the entire Bible was a Christocentric book, so “whoever does not find or receive God in Christ, shall at no time and in no place find God outside of Christ.” [20] Luther regarded Christ as true God and true man, as the ancient creeds of the church affirm. There was no evident dispute between Luther and Rome about the person of Christ, but the work of Christ was a bone of contention related to the doctrine of justification. Luther liked to refer to his conception of the Christian faith as his theologia crucis, theology of the cross. He believed the crucifixion of God’s Son is the means of redemption, since “Christ ... stands in our place and has taken all our sins upon his shoulders.... He is the eternal satisfaction for our sin and reconciles us with God the Father.” [21]

Luther focused upon Jesus’ cry from the cross, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Matt. 27:46), and he concluded that Christ went to hell at Calvary, where He lost the comfort and presence of God and suffered the terror and distress of condemned souls. In the Reformer’s words, “...whatever sins I, you, and all of us have committed or may commit in the future, they are as much Christ’s own, as if He Himself had committed them.” [22]

The Christ who died is now triumphant Lord, as the resurrection attests. He has conquered sin, death, and hell, and through His Holy Spirit He empowers believers to triumph over temptation.

In contrast with traditional Roman doctrine, which encouraged the belief that sinners could make meritorious contributions to salvation, Luther ascribed the saving of souls entirely to God by the means of Christ’s substitutionary atonement. In doing so, Dr. Luther returned to the Pauline and Augustinian teaching about the sufficiency of divine grace and the inability of sinners to satisfy divine justice. This, in his view, is genuine Catholic teaching.

As a biblical theologian Luther had to reject the popular Renaissance humanist confidence in man’s innate goodness, and he denied the medieval semi-Pelagian idea as well. Semi-Pelagians held that humans are sinful but not entirely corrupt. They therefore possess some ability to cooperate with grace and thereby to gain God’s favor. The ancient church had rejected this doctrine when, in 529, the Synod of Orange condemned it as heresy. It gained popular acceptance across the Middle Ages nevertheless, and by the sixteenth century it had become the dominant view of salvation in the Roman Church. Synergism, the belief that salvation is a cooperative endeavor between God and sinners, was and remains the persuasion of most Roman Catholics.

Luther, like Augustine a millennium earlier, contended that human nature since the fall is wholly sinful, so there can be no human contribution to salvation, and every theological debate of the Reformation era reflected the controversy about the consequences of original sin. Luther viewed all human beings as image-bearers of God, and that image “dignifies the nature of man in ... a glorious manner and distinguished it from all other creatures.” [23] As man came first from the hand of the Creator, he had “an enlightened reason, a true knowledge of God, and a most sincere desire to love God and his neighbor.” [24] The Fall ruined man’s condition and alienated him from God. Luther therefore concluded:
I believe that I cannot by my own understanding and strength come to Jesus Christ, my Lord, but that the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel and illuminated me with his gifts and sanctified me in the true faith. [25]
By 1524–25 Luther’s theocentric teaching had made a schism with Rome inevitable, and his belief in the impotence of fallen sinners was the issue that separated him irreparably from critics of Rome who sought only the correction of abuses and corruptions within the church. Because of his biblical understanding of God, man, sin, and salvation, he would not be content with moral and procedural improvements. He sought the reform of theology, and that brought him into a collision with the foremost scholar in Christendom, Desiderius Erasmus of Rotterdam (c. 1466–1536), the celebrated Prince of Humanists.

Under pressure from Catholic leaders, Erasmus attacked Luther by publishing De Libero Arbitrio (Concerning the Freedom of the Will) in 1524. Luther replied with De Servo Arbitrio (Concerning the Bondage of the Will) the following year. Erasmus denied the total depravity of sinful human nature and argued that divine law assumes human ability to meet its demands. Erasmus held that the fall left the human will free and unimpaired, so sinners still have the ability to cooperate with grace in a meritorious way and thereby to contribute to their salvation. The famed humanist dismissed the doctrine of election by God’s sovereign choice and charged that Luther’s God was unfair, for to be good, God must grant His grace to everyone.

In responding to Erasmus, Luther went to great lengths to refute him point-by-point and to show that the evangelical doctrine was not an innovation but a return to Pauline and Augustinian teaching about salvation. Luther’s argument features the assertion that a person cannot be humble “till he realized that his salvation is utterly beyond his own powers, counsels, efforts, will, and works, and depends absolutely on the will, counsel, pleasure, and works of Another-God alone.” [26]

The Luther-Erasmus debate clarified the issues which separated Wittenberg and Rome, and Luther’s De Servo Arbitrio became the classic Protestant statement which showed that the contest was one of theocentricity vs. anthropocentricity.

Congruent with his view of salvation, Martin Luther departed boldly from the medieval conception of the Christian life. As a champion of the priesthood of all believers, he scorned the clergy-laity dichotomy in which a professional priesthood dispenses God’s grace to dependent laymen. The Roman Church exalted priests, monks, and nuns as members of the spiritual estate and relegated laymen to the secular estate, a position of spiritual inferiority. His own experience as a monk had impressed this deeply upon Luther, and his experience of saving grace convinced him that it was a very harmful falsehood that he had to refute.

As one liberated through faith in Christ, Luther extolled the unity and wholeness of the Christian priesthood by arguing that all believers belong to a single sacred estate. Every form of toil performed for God’s glory is a divine calling. To some people God has granted the gifts for the gospel ministry. To others he has imparted talents for ruling principalities, mending shoes, or raising potatoes. The Reformer expounded this theme in his treatise To the Christian Nobility of the German Nation in 1520. There he showed that every station in life is a place where Christians can exercise their gifts in the ministry of their priesthood, and no one station is superior to another. [27] He and other Reformers would have been dismayed by the modern practice of identifying certain occupations only as full-time Christian service.

Since Christians need not work for their salvation, they are free to express their love for God by serving their neighbors. Love for one’s neighbors comes from a right relationship with God. Rather than retreating to a monastery to win divine favor by self-denial, believers must follow Jesus’ example of helping others. Good works are demonstrations of genuine faith, for faith is always active in love.

It finds expression in works of the freest service, cheerfully and lovingly done, with which a man willingly serves another without hope of reward; and for himself he is satisfied with the fullness and wealth of his faith. [28]

Although good works do not merit salvation, Luther affirmed that they are necessary consequences of saving grace. He linked good works to the assurance of salvation by teaching that active love, expressing itself in good works, is the only reliable external index of faith. He warned that people who claim to believe in Christ but show no love for their neighbors maintain only an illusion of faith. The Reformer said that Christians must share their goods with needy neighbors. Just as Christ “emptied Himself” to become the Savior, so must His disciples give their possessions to others in need. When illness strikes, Christians must aid the sick, even at risk to themselves. When bubonic plague struck Wittenberg, Luther stayed there to minister to the sick and the dying. He saw clearly the social responsibilities of faith. He declared, “Our faith does not free us from works but from false opinions concerning works, that is, from the foolish presumption that justification is acquired by works.” [29]

One area of life which, in Luther’s view, provides an excellent context in which to put faith to work is marriage. It is ironic that the Roman Church in 1215 had declared marriage a sacrament, while it regarded celibacy as a more pious, meritorious estate. In 1075 Pope Gregory VII had imposed celibacy upon all clerics.

Although Luther denied that marriage is a sacrament, he regarded it as pleasing to God and beneficial to human beings. He exulted, “It is not an estate to be placed on a level with the others; it precedes and surpasses them all, whether those of emperor, princes, bishops, or anyone else.” [30] Speaking about a godly husband, Luther wrote, “Cutting wood or heating a room is just as holy for him as praying...if for a monk, for all works of a pious man are good because of the Holy Spirit and his faith.” [31] The same is true of a devout wife and mother for whom making beds and washing diapers are forms of Christian service. Luther urged people to reject monasticism in favor of marriage, and he set a proper example when he married Katherine von Bora, a former nun, in 1525.

In rejecting the sacred-secular dichotomy, Dr. Luther denied that the Christian life should be ascetic. He maintained that God had created the world for His own glory, but for the enjoyment of His own people as well. Luther therefore encouraged Christians to participate in the visual and musical arts and to enjoy athletics. He had a special fondness for music, and his contribution to hymnody was huge.

In contrast with the Swiss Reformer Ulrich Zwingli, Luther believed that music merits inclusion in worship because it is a gift from God, a suitable vehicle by which believers may express their love and adoration. He composed thirty-seven hymns, all in the German language, which encouraged congregations to participate in worship rather than being spectators, as they had been during the Middle Ages. Luther thus became the father of the singing Protestant church, and German Lutherans excelled all other Protestant bodies of the sixteenth century in the development of their hymnody. J. S. Bach (1685–1750) made music a means by which to proclaim the great themes of Reformation theology by arranging his music to correspond with the doctrines in Luther’s catechisms. Jesuits complained that Luther had damned more souls with his hymns than with his sermons and writings.

Although Luther was a German and his conception of Reformation enjoyed its greatest success in his homeland, his influence has been international. During Luther’s lifetime Wittenberg theologian Johann Bugenhagen (1485–1558) became a missionary to Scandinavia. Robert Barnes (1495–1540), a refugee theologian from England, transmitted Luther’s teachings to his homeland through numerous writings, and Patrick Hamilton (c. 1503–28) helped to lay the foundation of Scottish Protestantism by promoting Luther’s doctrines and by becoming Scotland’s first Protestant martyr. [32]

From Martin Luther the church has received a rich legacy of theocentricity in belief and practice. In the providence of God he led the way to demolish the dichotomy which had kept common people from harmony with God and biblical fellowship with one another. Thanks to his endeavors to extol the grace of Christ, believers could enjoy the Christian life in its wholeness as a community of kings and priests who find their greatest satisfaction in loving and serving God and their neighbors. Soli Deo gloria!

About the Author

Dr. James E. McGoldrick is professor of history at Cedarville College, Cedarville, Ohio. He is a regular contributor to Reformation & Revival Journal and other periodicals. He is the author of several books, including Baptist Successionism, Luther’s Scottish Connection and Luther’s English Connection.

Notes
  1.  Otto W. Heick, A History of Christian Thought (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1965), 1:318.
  2. Quoted by Roland H. Bainton, Here I Stand (New York: New American Library, 1950), 44; cf. Luther’s Works, 34, ed., Lewis W. Spitz (Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, 1960), 336. Hereafter the abbreviation LW will signify Luther’s Works.
  3. Philip Schaff, A History of the Christian Church (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977 reprint of 1910 ed.), 8:117.
  4. Quoted by E. G. Rupp, Luther’s Progress to the Diet of Worms (New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1964), 31.
  5. LW, 34:337.
  6. LW, 31:206.
  7. Ibid., 25.
  8. Ibid., 28.
  9. Ibid., 344.
  10. Ibid.
  11. Martin Luther, The Small Catechism (Philadelphia: United Lutheran Publication Board, 1874), 4:1–4.
  12. LW, 32:112–13.
  13. Ibid., 115.
  14. Quoted by Fernandez Alvarez, Charles V (London: Thames and Hudson, 1975), 91.
  15. Ibid., 184.
  16. LW, 34:7; this volume contains the full text of Luther’s Exhortation to All Clergy Assembled at Augsburg.
  17. Philip S. Watson, Let God Be God (London: Lutterworth Press, 1947), 14.
  18. LW, 31:12.
  19. For a penetrating examination of Luther’s view of reason and faith, see Siegbert W. Becker, The Foolishness of God (Milwaukee: Northwestern Publishing House, 1982).
  20. Quoted by Heick, History of Christian Thought, I:332.
  21. LW, 51:92
  22. LW, 26:278.
  23. LW, 1:57.
  24. Ibid., 63.
  25. Luther, Small Catechism, 2:3.
  26. Martin Luther, The Bondage of the Will, tr. J. I. Packer and O. R. Johnston (Westwood, New Jersey: Fleming H. Revell, 1957), 100.
  27. LW, 44:123–217; cf. James Edward McGoldrick, “Luther on Life With Dichotomy,” Grace Theological Journal (Spring 1984), 5:3–11.
  28. LW, 31:365; cf. Paul Althaus, The Ethics of Martin Luther, Robert C. Schultz, tr. (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1972).
  29. LW, 31:344.
  30. Luther, Large Catechism, in The Book of Concord, T. G. Tappert, et al., ed. (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1952), 393.
  31. Quoted by William H. Lazareth, Luther on the Christian Home (Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, 1960), 146.
  32. James Edward McGoldrick, Luther’s English Connection (Milwaukee: Northwestern, 1979) and Luther’s Scottish Connection (Madison, New Jersey: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 1989).

Why Luther? (Part Two)

By John H. Armstrong

Martin Luther was a man of great courage. He was also mortal and weak. He knew his own heart all too well. He had doubts and often needed assurance from God. He had no doubts quite so severe as the doubts he entertained about the whole effort of the Reformation.
Oh, with how great an effort and exertion, also with proof from Holy Scripture, did I barely succeed in justifying before my own conscience that I, a lone man, dared rise against the pope, consider him the Antichrist, the bishops his apostles, the schools of higher learning his houses of ill fame! How often my heart struggled, rebuked me, and threw up to me their one and strongest argument: You alone are wise? Can it be that all the others are erring and have been erring for so long a time? What if you are erring and leading into error so many people, all of whom will be eternally damned? Such questions continued until Christ strengthened and settled me by His own certain Word so that my heart no longer struggles .... [1]
Luther later added:
I hope that He will acknowledge that it [the Reformation] has been in His name, and, if any impure motives have crept in—since I am a sinful man of ordinary flesh and blood—will graciously forgive them and not deal severely with me in His judgment. [2]
Of one thing we can be absolutely sure. Luther is clearly one of the most significant figures in the history of Christianity. Generally speaking, most Christians have either loved him or hated him, depending almost entirely upon how they understand the sixteenth-century Protestant Reformation and what ultimately happened to divide the visible church during the upheaval of those days. But what do modern evangelicals really know about Martin Luther? About his theology? About his sermons? About his understanding of important biblical doctrines?

In our previous issue (Volume 7, Number 4) we provided an overview of the life and thought of Martin Luther. Considering how much Luther wrote—there are 54 volumes of his works—and how much has been written about him—thousands of books and articles since the sixteenth century, it is a daunting task to get the measure of this Reformer and his massive thought. The difficulty of the task, for our staff at least, was underscored by the amount of good material submitted to our editorial office for the theme of Martin Luther. As a result of the quantity and quality of material provided we agreed to turn our Luther issue into two installments. Therefore, the issue you now read is the second part of the theme: Martin Luther.

In this particular issue we consider several of the doctrinal issues that Luther addressed in his own lifetime, e.g., predestination, worship, vocation, and especially his very distinctive theology of the cross. Perhaps the greatest contribution of Luther’s voluminous work is this last concern—the theology of the cross. Modern preachers could not do better than to plunge into this kind of Lutheran thinking with a determination to “go and do likewise.” For this reason part two of the work of my late friend, Robert Preus, is extremely important. In my own view, this material is crucial for modern theological reformation.

We also seek to gain a fuller measure of the man Luther by delving more deeply into his mind and thought. Articles by Robert Kolb, a long-time Luther scholar, and Michael Haykin, a Baptist historian with profound insight and great appreciation for Luther, add their helpful contributions to this section.

Since Luther still casts an immense shadow over the church, it is also important to consider several issues related to his thought and raised by modern thinkers. To this end we have included a helpful overview of the doctrine of justification by faith alone. In addition, Chuck Huckaby, a regular contributor to this publication, has written an important interaction with a modern thinker, Daniel P. Fuller. Several additional pieces, which engage contemporary thought and practice in the spirit of modern reformation, fill out this issue.

Finally, you will soon see that this issue contains a wonderfully annotated bibliography, written by Lutheran professor Rod Rosenblatt. Since we always include a bibliography with each theme, and one was not included with the previous number, we thought it best to finish our Luther subject with this valuable resource.

I find myself, after thirty years of reading Luther, as well as scores of works about Luther, still impressed with the sheer magnitude of his effort. He was enabled to understand the important issues and had the courage to speak out when few would lift their voices. Said Luther:
At the beginning of the evangelical cause a certain brother of our order said to me: “Brother, we shall be covered with shame, and it will be hard and difficult to confess what you are teaching, because by that very fact we shall confess that we have been in error. To recant what we have taught and believed for so many years will be a difficult matter.” With great reverence and joy this good man loved and cherished the Word, but he nonetheless saw that few would confess their error, because this would involve them in a great difficulty. And we now see this happen. [3]
As I read these words I thought, “How much like our time.” Many love and cherish the Word in our evangelical churches but few, it seems, are ready to admit their own errors and get involved in the great difficulties of a much-needed modern reformation. But Luther still stands, nearly five centuries after the beginning of his protest in 1517, as a giant. His thought summons us all to conform everything to the Word of God alone. His life urges us to take courage, to pursue the truth, and to put everything the church believes and practices to the test of Scripture alone.

A Note of Special Appreciation

The two issues of Reformation & Revival Journal with the theme “Luther” (Vol. 7, No. 4 and Vol. 8, No. 1) could not have been completed without the help and personal friendship of Dr. Steven A. Hein, now headmaster of Shepherd of the Springs Lutheran High School, Colorado Springs, Colorado. Steven, a historical theologian, gave his valuable time and frequently pointed me in the right direction.

Notes
  1. What Luther Says, Ewald M. Plass, compiler (Concordia: St. Louis, 1959), 1175.
  2. Ibid.
  3. Ibid., 1177-78.

Why Luther? (Part One)

By John H. Armstrong

No one seriously questions it—at least among historians anyway. Martin Luther was the human torch that lit the fire of the Protestant revolt against the Church of Rome in the sixteenth century. And the fire he lit has never gone out, now nearly five centuries later. But who was Martin Luther? What did he actually believe? Why did he respond to the church in the manner that he did? And why did the Roman Catholic Church respond to him as it did? Are his life and work really that important to us so far removed from his world and work?

Martin Luther was, and still is, a controversial figure, often misunderstood by friend and foe alike. Born November 10, 1483, Luther lived to the age of sixty-two, dying on February 18, 1546. During this relatively short life, by modern standards at least, he accomplished more, under God, than most moderns could accomplish in three times the life span. Intriguing, enigmatic, straightforward, opinionated, sometimes coarse, always down-to-earth, Martin Luther was a man profoundly and deeply moved by the free grace of God. But he certainly did not appear to be inclined toward becoming a Reformer in his early life.

A brief glimpse from his early life reveals just how much Martin trusted in the teaching of his church. On a very hot day in July, in the year 1505, a twenty-one-year old university student and the devoted son of the church, Martin walked along a road just outside the Saxon village of Stotternheim. As he neared the city a rainstorm interrupted his journey. A flash of lightning knocked him to the ground. Rising from his near-death experience he cried out, in sheer “terror” as historian Roland Bainton put it: “St. Anne help me! I will become a monk.” [1]

Bainton notes that the man who cried out to a saint on that day in 1505 would later repudiate the cult of the saints. The man who vowed to become a monk would eventually renounce monasticism. And this man was to be used by God to virtually shatter the centuries-old structure of medieval Catholicism. Even the Roman Catholic Church would never be the same once Luther embarked upon his protest.

But just who is this controversial man? Roland Bainton writes:
The multitudinous portrayals fall into certain broad types already delineated in his own generation. His followers hailed him as the prophet of the Lord and the deliverer of Germany. His opponents on the Catholic side called him the son of perdition and the demolisher of Christendom. The agrarian agitators branded him as a sycophant of the princes, and the radical sectaries compared him to Moses, who led the children of Israel out of Germany and left them to perish in the wilderness. [2]
Biographers are almost all agreed that Luther battled severe depression during these early years. This became quite evident when he entered the priesthood in fulfillment of his earlier made vow. Various theories have been offered to explain his melancholic disposition, especially in our therapeutic century. One thing is sure. Any theory that does not take seriously that the personal struggles Luther endured were directly related to the intense religious questions he struggled with, plainly misses the mark.

Born at Eisleben, the son of a prosperous miner, Luther was educated at Erfurt and Magdeburg. His father pressed him to pursue a career in the law. But young Martin, as noted, was “obsessed by concern for his eternal destiny.” [3] So unlike our modern Western age, and following the time of the Black Death, Luther’s time was one preoccupied by concerns for death and one’s eternal destiny. What young Martin feared, along with many in this time, was not so much death as the judgment that he believed was certain to follow. He believed what few in our day actually believe, even within the church. He understood that eternal damnation awaited those who were not truly reconciled to God. And he understood that no amount of effort on his part could reconcile God to himself. It was not as if the church offered nothing to the people of this time. Men and women were urged to ensure their salvation, to receive the blessed sacraments of the church and to perfect righteousness, by the grace of God. This initial righteousness was poured into one’s soul by and through baptism. The truly penitent must spend his lifetime making sure that he completed what God had begun. The church was there to help make it possible.

Luther began his search for peace with God shortly after the 1505 incident. He studied all that the church provided to satisfy his guilty and tormented soul. He finally tried the one thing the church seemed to offer—the penitential system of the time. The famous accounts of Staupitz counseling Luther’s distressed soul stand as abiding testimony to how distressed he actually was. What he ultimately discovered was that he couldn’t remember all of the sins he had committed. He couldn’t even recognize all of his sins clearly enough to adequately admit them before his confessor. But why? Because God, as Luther understood Him, was a righteous and holy Judge who would never clear the guilty on the basis of anything they could offer to Him.

Eventually Luther found help in the study of the Holy Scriptures. A chair for biblical study was established at the University of Wittenberg, and Luther was appointed to this position. He lectured on Psalms, Romans, and finally Galatians. What Luther saw in the text was that God had already performed the one thing required. He had revealed His mercy in the cross of Christ whereby all those who trusted in Him would be declared righteous by God Himself. And this trust in the dying One, which brought the sinner into a right relationship with the thrice Holy God, was itself the gift of God, received solely on the basis of faith. By virtue of Christ’s death the believing person is justified, even though he is not yet just. Bainton concludes helpfully:
Man must of course believe that God has done what God has done, but mere belief is not sufficient. The devils also believe and tremble. Faith is more than belief. It is surrender, acceptance, commitment, saturation with the love of Christ. Man must for himself believe, respond, accept—all of this Luther found already formulated in the writings of the apostle Paul. [4]
But was Luther purely a product of an age—an age that frankly has precious little to do with us living at the dawn of a new millennium? Many seem to think so. Better yet, did Luther’s understanding of the gospel come from some kind of personal identity crisis, a type of psychosis that would be treated so differently by the church in our generation? Or was it an understanding rooted in Scripture alone? And did he, toward the end of his life, become a disillusioned man who gave up his early principles, so strongly stated in his earlier doctrinal and polemical writings? These are the kinds of questions that will interest students and scholars for decades to come.

But what is Luther’s real contribution to us, living so far removed from the world of his time? His life clearly came at the end of the old world, at the end of the medieval way, thus at the dawn of the modern age. And these changes in society itself would have undoubtedly come, Luther or not. The Renaissance assured this, at least to some cultural extent. So why does Luther have any enduring significance for the work of reformation in our time? Why should we devote two issues of this journal to the person and thought of Martin Luther? I think James Atkinson, professor of biblical history and literature at the University of Sheffield, answers my question quite well.
Because he sought to re-form Christianity nearer to the mind and intent of its Founder, he is continually significant for Christianity in any subsequent age for the simple reason that Christianity at any given time is always in need of re-formation. He is a constant challenge to Christianity as it is today, no matter whether it is the Catholic or Reformed version of it. In common with many doctors and fathers and saints of the Church, he restores our vision of what a true Christian is and what the true Church might be. He is a powerful and creative thinker on how a Christian is related to the body politic, what involvement in society means, and what criticism of society is. His thinking on the basic secular realities of work, marriage, civic and political activity, and all our common everyday life, challenges everybody to a true understanding of these things. He shows how clean and wholesome, good and worthwhile, these things are intrinsically, and at the same time reveals how secularized, how shortsightedly human so many Christians live out their lives. He was also involved in the care and education of the young, and did more for schools and universities perhaps than any other, saving perhaps Melanchthon, who lived to put Luther’s ideas into practice. [5]
Martin Luther is, simply put, a towering figure, anyway you consider him. His life has left an indelible mark upon us all. Most of us know something of him. Much of what we know, popularly, is wrong. I am personally convinced that this preacher, theologian, and faithful pastor made the kind of difference that “still speaks,” especially in times like these. His response to his own notoriety as a Reformer might help us all if we take heed. Said he, in 1522, shortly after his official condemnation by the Roman Catholic Church:
I ask that men make no reference to my name; let them [followers] call themselves Christians, not Lutherans. What is Luther? After all, the teaching is not mine. Neither was I crucified for anyone (1 Cor. 1:13). St. Paul, in 1 Corinthians 3, would not allow the Christians to call themselves Pauline or Petrine, but Christian. How then should I—poor stinking maggot-fodder that I am—come to have men call the children of Christ by my wretched name? Not so, my dear friends, let us abolish all party names and call ourselves Christians, after him whose teaching we hold. [6]
Furthermore, Luther accomplished more than any ten of us today. He led a busy life—teaching, writing, preaching, praying, counseling, singing, and playing with his family almost every day. And much of this was done without the benefit of good health since he suffered from frequent kidney stone attacks and various other illnesses. His industrious habits, joined with his courage and common sense, made him a role model for those who would set about the work of reformation in our time. It has been properly noted that he accomplished in his own time a work which took the work of five, or more, Reformers in England. Cranmer gave England a prayer book. Tyndale and Coverdale labored to produce a fresh, readable Bible translation. The Westminster divines produced a useful and thoughtful catechism. And Hugh Latimer gave the people and the ministers a body of evangelical sermons.

Furthermore, Luther understood the import of music as well, even noting once that music “deserves the highest praise, next to the word of God [because] she serves to cast out Satan.” [7] He was also a wordsmith who could outargue, outwit and outreason the best of his critics. Contra the wrong opinions of many, even to this day, Luther was no radical. He had a keen desire to preserve, protect and build the church. He opposed the radicals who sought social destruction and national upheaval. He understood the society of his time and sought consistently to introduce reformation without revolution. Many can learn from this example as well.

But in all of this prodigious effort for the reform of the church, Luther’s greatest work clearly lay in his preaching. He was an expert biblical scholar who understood the proper distinction between the Word of God and human authority, especially ecclesiastical authority. And out of all of this learning he lifted up Christ crucified as the singular focus of the Sacred Scriptures. In 1516 he told a fellow friar:
Learn Christ and him crucified. Learn to praise him and, despairing of yourself, say, “Lord Jesus, you are my righteousness, just as I am your sin. You have taken upon yourself what is mine and have given to me what I was not.” Beware of aspiring to such purity that you will not wish to be looked upon as a sinner, or to be one. For Christ dwells only in sinners. [8]
If the Reformation accomplished anything at all it accomplished the great recovery of preaching. The pulpit was placed higher than the altar in Protestant churches for good reason. Luther believed that salvation was through the Word, and the elements of the sacrament were sterile without the preaching of the Word of God. Bainton notes:
... the Reformation did exalt the sermon. All educational devices. .. found their highest utilization in the pulpit. The reformers at Wittenberg undertook an extensive campaign of religious instruction through the sermon. There were three public services on Sunday: from five to six in the morning on the Pauline epistles, from nine to ten on the Gospels, and in the afternoon at a variable hour on a continuation of the theme of the morning or on the catechism. The church was not locked during the week but on Mondays and Tuesdays there were sermons on the catechism, Wednesdays on the Gospel of Matthew, Thursdays and Fridays on the apostolic letters, and Saturday evening on John’s Gospel. No one man carried the entire load. There was a staff of the clergy, but Luther’s share was prodigious. Including family devotions he spoke often four times on Sundays and quarterly undertook a two-week series four days a week on the catechism. [9]
Luther created no theological system. He left a large body of writings. But beyond doubt the greatest gift he gave to the world was the recovery of a Christocentric faith which restored the message of the gospel to its proper place. And he rediscovered the view that the church must always be reforming if it is to be faithful to Christ. He did not accomplish all he set out to do. He clearly made mistakes. He often overreacted. And, in the words of professor Eric Gritsch: “.. . knowing him better may alert contemporary Christians to the enduring need of renewal for the sake of a faithful mission to the world.” [10]

Notes
  1. Roland Bainton, Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther (Nashville: Abingdon, 1950), 21.
  2. Ibid., 22.
  3. The Encyclopedia of the Lutheran Church, Julius Bodensiech, ed., 3 volumes (Philadelphia: Augsburg, 1965), 2:1351.
  4. Ibid., 2:1352.
  5. James Atkinson, Martin Luther and the Birth of Protestantism (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1981), iv.
  6. Luther’s Works, Walther I. Brandt, ed. (Philadelphia: Fortress: 1962), 45:70–71.
  7. Luther’s Works, Ulrich S. Leupold, ed. (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1965), 53:323.
  8. Luther’s Works, Gottfried G. Krodel, ed. (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1963), 48:12–13.
  9. Bainton, 348–49.
  10. Eric W. Gritsch, Martin Luther: Faith in Christ and the Gospel (New York: New City Press, 1996), 24.

Musical Idolatry: Non Nobis

By Charles D. King

A number of issues underlie the current discussion regarding worship styles and music in worship. I propose to look at this subject from the perspective of idolatry. My purpose is to offer some clear correctives that I hope will be useful to the church in a time when the spirit of the world threatens to overwhelm the spirit of truth.

As I write I am mindful of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “Young Goodman Brown,” who witnessed every good person in his Puritan town participating in a black Sabbath—or did he? He was never quite sure whether it was a dream or not.
A stern, sad, darkly meditative, distrustful, if not desperate man did he become, from the night of that fearful dream. On the Sabbath day, when the congregation were singing a holy psalm, he could not listen, because an anthem of sin rushed loudly upon his ear, and drowned all the blessed strain .... And when he had lived long, and was borne to his grave, a hoary corpse ... they carved no hopeful verse upon his tomb-stone; for his dying hour was gloom. [1]
I will attempt to be serious, but not dour. I aim at being careful, but never pharisaical. My goal throughout is to be cautionary, definitely not incendiary.

“Not to us, O Lord, not to us but to Thy name give glory because of Thy lovingkindness, because of Thy truth. Why should the nations say, ‘Where, now, is their God?’ But our God is in the heavens; He does whatever He pleases” (Ps. 115:1–3).

Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to Thy name give glory because of Thy lovingkindness.

The psalmist immediately orients us to the task. We are confronted with our motivations, and if honest we look into our hearts to ask, “Is this true?” Why do I stand in front of my choir week after week? What is my motivation as I lead worship? Whom am I trying to please? Whose glory do I really seek as I select music for the congregation to sing and to hear?

I suggest that all the discussions I hear about “styles” betray a misorientation. Typically they begin with the question about how to satisfy the worshiper. Cultural relevance is the primary value for appraising style choices. The basis for evaluating success, then, is either gross numbers or the presence of the “target audience.” Success is then ours.

Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to Thy name give glory. As worship planners and leaders, we are called to a more radical orientation. That is, we are directed to the very roots of our calling: the glory of God’s name, the recognition of His love and faithfulness. We begin by asking whether what we offer in music reflects His glory and pleases Him. How does any particular gift recount His love and faithfulness, and so redound to His glory? Let “the nations” ask “Where is their God?” If they cannot apprehend the glory, if they do not comprehend the love and faithfulness we celebrate, we must not be deterred from our duty and delight. “Our God is in the heavens; He does whatever He pleases.”

We do not “play” to the nations. But we proclaim Him to the nations. “Sing praises to the Lord, who dwells in Zion; declare among the peoples His deeds” (Ps. 9:11). “Proclaim good tidings of His salvation from day to day....Say among the nations, ‘The Lord reigns’“ (Ps. 96:2, 10). In and outside the church, we must proclaim God with spirit and understanding—in ways that do not obscure the glory, and that present no unnecessary stumbling blocks. This is the only value for cultural relevance.
The principle of evangelism must be to show the people outside the church that the symbols in which the life of the church expresses itself are answers to the questions implied in their very existence as human beings....There is always a genuine decision against the gospel for those for whom it is a stumbling block. But this decision should not be dependent upon the wrong stumbling block, namely our inability to communicate. What we have to do is to overcome the wrong stumbling block in order to bring people face to face with the right stumbling block and enable them to make a genuine decision. Will the Christian churches be able to remove the wrong stumbling blocks in their attempt to communicate the gospel? [2]
Those who make them will become like them, everyone who trusts in them.
But our God is in the heavens; He does whatever He pleases. Their idols are silver and gold, the work of man’s hands. They have mouths, but they cannot speak; they have eyes, but they cannot see; they have ears, but they cannot hear; they have noses, but they cannot smell; they have hands, but they cannot feel; they have feet, but they cannot walk; they cannot make a sound with their throat. Those who make them will become like them, everyone who trusts in them (Ps. 115:3–8).
Let us note some features of idols as described in these verses. First, they are made of precious metals. They consist of the finest, costliest material that can be easily shaped. They are pleasing to the eye. But note the ultimate judgment about their spiritual value: made by the hands of men. “Our God is in the heavens; He does whatever He pleases.” But idols are made by human hands.

Second, these idols are made to look human. They have human features: mouths, eyes, ears, noses, hands, feet. Attractive and lifelike though they may be, they do nothing. Paul, writing to the Romans, recounts the human tendency to exchange “the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator” (1:25).

Third, idols are dead. In Isaiah 44, the prophet exposes the lifelessness of idols by showing how they are all made of materials that humans also consume: metals which man forgets, wood which man burns for food and warmth. Habakkuk likewise wrote:
What profit is the idol when its maker has carved it, or an image, a teacher of falsehood? For its maker trusts in his own handiwork when he fashions speechless idols. Woe to him who says to a piece of wood, “Awake!” To a dumb stone, “Arise!” And that is your teacher? Behold, it is overlaid with gold and silver, and there is no breath at all inside it (Hab. 2:18–19).
And so idolatrous worship is spiritual death: they know nothing, understand nothing, see nothing; they feed on ashes with a deluded, misleading heart and cannot recognize that what they hold onto is a lie. [3] To Ezekiel, God said:
These men have set up their idols in their hearts, and have put right before their faces the stumbling block of their iniquity. Should I be consulted by them at all? Therefore speak to them and tell them, “Thus says the Lord God, ‘Any man of the house of Israel who sets up his idols in his heart, puts right before his face the stumbling block of his iniquity, and then comes to the prophet, I the Lord will be brought to give him an answer in the matter in view of the multitude of his idols.... And I shall set My face against that man and make him a sign and a proverb, and I shall cut him off from among My people. So you will know that I am the Lord’“ (Ezek. 14:3–4, 8).
Hosea 9:16 describes idolaters as blighted, withered, and fruitless. “Our God is in the heavens; He does whatever He pleases.” But their idols? “Those who make them will be like them.” Idols may be beautiful, but in man’s image, not God’s. Aside from that, they are worthless: speechless, blind, deaf, unable to smell, feel or walk. Ultimately, unable to utter a sound.
I found Israel like grapes in the wilderness; I saw your forefathers as the earliest fruit on the fig tree in its first season. But they came to Baal Peor and devoted themselves to shame, and they became as detestable as that which they loved (Hos. 9:10). 
But they mingled with the nations, and learned their practices, and served their idols, which became a snare to them. They even sacrificed their sons and their daughters to the demons, and shed innocent blood, the blood of their sons and their daughters, whom they sacrificed to the idols of Canaan; and the land was polluted with the blood. Thus they became unclean in their practices, and played the harlot in their deeds (Ps. 106:35–39).
This is a sobering, cautionary summary. We will become like that which we worship.

Musical Idolatry

How does this Old Testament teaching translate into our work in music and worship? “Anyone with a hierarchy of values has placed something at its apex, and whatever that is is the god he serves. The Old and New Testaments call such gods idols.” [4] Reinhold Niebuhr defined the “principle of coherence” as one’s central meaning of life or focus of significance, and asserted that “all such principles that substitute for God exemplify the biblical concept of idol.” [5] An idol, then, “is any thing, any experience, any accomplishment that promises life without God’s help...any attempt to fulfill our deepest longings, placed there by God—to fill a vacuum God created—to fill our legitimate needs without God.” [6]

Idols are what we trust instead of trusting God. So we make idols of style, opinion, surveys, natural abilities. We are surrounded by idols of our contemporary culture, which infiltrate the church: technology, immediate gratification, money, power (control), efficiency (pragmatism), immediacy (accessibility), success, popularity. The most ubiquitous idol, and so the hardest to recognize, is Self. Calvin Johansson reminds us that “death to the self (even in the musical realm) is necessary.” [7] C. S. Lewis—no friend to church music—showed what this death to self looks like:
There are two musical situations on which I think we can be confident that a blessing rests. One is where...a man of trained and delicate taste, humbly and charitably sacrifices his own (aesthetically right) desires and gives the people humbler and coarser fare than he would wish, in a belief...that he can thus bring them to God. The other is where the.... unmusical layman humbly and patiently, and above all silently, listens to music which he cannot, or cannot fully, appreciate, in the belief that it somehow glorifies God, and that if it does not edify him this must be his own defect. [8]
Idols abound. (And let me say how much easier it is to say these things here than if you could walk into my church services tomorrow!) We have seen the man-centered industry of “worship music” move from themes about God (“Lion of Judah”) to the worship leader (artist’s name/concept title). We have learned to live with a contemporary Christian (and church) music industry that is driven by mammon. As we put the approval of men at the center of our choices, we are reaping in music what Paul warned Timothy about in preaching:
For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but wanting to have their ears tickled, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in accordance to their own desires; and will turn away their ears from the truth, and will turn aside to myths (2 Tim. 4:3–4).
The Bible teaches us that we will become like that which we serve. “The mark of an idol is what it finally produces.” [9] “A man can place anyone or anything at the top of a pyramid of values, and that is ultimately what he serves... [and it] profoundly affects the way he lives.” [10] Given the complete vanity of idols (they are, in fact, dead), what can we say about idolatrous music ministry? It is man-centered, profit-motivated, and heretical.

I hasten to acknowledge that the danger of idolatry is no respecter of class. The cheapest popular culture has no more capacity for idolatry than the highest art culture. What idolatry produces in the particular may differ along the spectrum, but the end is still man, money, and myth—and ultimately spiritual death. Apart from the Holy Spirit, all music has the capacity to enslave minds, seduce affections, numb discernment, obscure objectivity, encroach on creativity, and divert commitments.

Trust in the Lord—He will bless those who fear the Lord.
O Israel, trust in the Lord; He is their help and their shield. O house of Aaron, trust in the Lord; He is their help and their shield. You who fear the Lord, trust in the Lord; He is their help and their shield. The Lord has been mindful of us; He will bless us; He will bless the house of Israel; He will bless the house of Aaron. He will bless those who fear the Lord, the small together with the great. May the Lord give you increase, you and your children. May you be blessed of the Lord, maker of heaven and earth (Ps. 115:9–15).
Much of Israel’s idolatry was syncretistic. (“But they mingled with the nations, and learned their practices” [Ps. 106:35]). They worshipped the gods of other nations because (1) they wanted additional security from the local gods of the lands they inherited or (2) they wanted to enter into political alliances with their neighbors. This led them into the mixing of the covenant religion with all manner of idolatry. In Ezekiel 8 we see a horrible picture of this, with fullblown pantheistic idolatry [11] in and beneath the temple, and with temple priests worshipping the sun, their backs literally turned away from the holy place.

Another focus of Israel’s idolatry was fertility gods. [12] God’s judgment in Hosea 8 is in keeping with what the idol represents:
A craftsman made it, so it is not God; surely the calf of Samaria will be broken to pieces. For they sow the wind, and they reap the whirlwind. The standing grain has no heads; it yields no grain. Should it yield, strangers would swallow it up. Israel is swallowed up; they are now among the nations like a vessel in which no one delights (Hos. 8:6–8).
Hosea sums up the worship and end of this cult:
And now they sin more and more, and make for themselves molten images, idols skillfully made from their silver, all of them the work of craftsmen. They say of them, Let the men who sacrifice kiss the calves! Therefore, they will be like the morning cloud, and like dew which soon disappears, like chaff which is blown away from the threshing floor, and like smoke from a chimney (13:2–3).
“Idolatry carries its own punishment: you worship nothing; you get nothing; you end as nothing.” [13]

In this context notice God’s call to His people: “Trust in the Lord—He is their help and their shield! He will bless those who fear the Lord. May the Lord give you increase.” All that Israel hoped to gain, represented in the idols they turned to, was already given to them by the God who called them and loved them: national security, local protection, and flourishing crops. All from God. God’s call is to trust Him and wait in confidence to receive the blessings. Those who worship the living God, the Scriptures say, will, like Him, be living: “like a tree firmly planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither; and in whatever he does, he prospers” (Ps. 1:3). The blessed, the salt of the earth and light of the world; the means by which men, seeing good deeds, praise the Father in heaven. “Therefore you are to be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt. 5:48).

“All idols belong either to nature or to history ... Any idol that is not an artifact of the natural world is an artifact of the social world.” [14] At the risk of stating the obvious, I believe our musical idols fall into the categories of fertility (natural idols) or syncretism (social idols). So we find the church chasing either acceptance by culture, or simply growth in numbers.

Both kinds of idols drive our pursuit of style above substance; both put man before God. Both end up as mist, chaff, and smoke. Not only because “he who marries the spirit of the age soon finds himself a widower,” [15] but because we are pursuing that which is destined to perish and which, until it does, is already lifeless. Keeping up with the idols of our age becomes an enterprise as meaningless as rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

There are three tasks in moving toward idol-free music ministry: (1) identify idols, (2) name idols, and (3) remove idols. To identify idols we need gifts of discernment. Sometimes we spot idols by way of recognizing fetishes. Do I use music to stimulate an emotional (called “spiritual”) response? Do I accept (or reject) musical options based on their label (e.g., “praise music”)? Do I “measure worth by popular acclaim, ignoring principles of art and reason to base [my] judgments on the author’s name”? [16] We also recognize idols by gauging our response to others’ comments, especially comments about our preferences. Ultimately, perhaps, we recognize our idols in what we rely on when our energy, time, or interests tempt us to “throw something together” for worship. You know the times I mean: other things have crowded our week, and the planning deadline is upon us. Our accompanist needs the anthem schedule, our pastor needs the hymns, a soloist is asking about the theme of the service. The printing schedule for Sunday morning is looming. We do not have the time to plan and decide as we would like. Whether what we create in those times is “for me” or “for others,” we find that God has not been our primary concern. We have trusted in our skill, our instinct or intuition, or maybe in our liturgical guides and record-keeping. We have not walked with God and listened to His Word. We have not trusted the Holy Spirit to do invisibly what we can do simply, quickly, and visibly.

Naming the idols is a prophetic activity: let the Word of God speak to the issues. In contrast to the biblical description of idols, the Word of God is “living and powerful.” Idol-proofing our ministries is in fact possible only if we are people of the Word. The Bible is both source and judge of our worship. [17] In the Word we remember His love and faithfulness. We learn the fear of the Lord and, in that fear, trust. That which is invisible becomes certain. Our capacity to withstand the onslaught of idolatry is strengthened.

The Word names some idols which set themselves up in every age: mammon, self, security, fertility. Pursuit of these is the worship of our own image rather than conformity to the image of God. The corrective is expressed negatively in Romans: “For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks” (1:21). Our text in Psalm 115 expresses it positively: “Not to us, O Lord, but to Thy name give glory, because of your lovingkindness” (v. 1). If we devote ourselves to glorifying God, to thanking Him, to recounting His love and faithfulness, we necessarily commit to dethroning idols. Let us lay the axe to the root. Whether quietly, under cover of night, as Gideon, [18] or officially and decisively as Josiah, [19] we must determine not to coexist with anything that robs God’s glory.

God spoke to Israel in their promised land:
I said, “I will never break My covenant with you, and as for you, you shall make no covenant with the inhabitants of this land; you shall tear down their altars.” But you have not obeyed Me; what is this you have done? Therefore I also said, “I will not drive them out before you; but they shall become as thorns in your sides, and their gods shall be a snare to you” (Jud. 2:1–3).
It is not the dead, but we who praise the Lord.

The heavens are the heavens of the Lord; but the earth He has given to the sons of men. The dead do not praise the Lord, nor do any who go down into silence; but as for us, we will bless the Lord from this time forth and forever. Praise the Lord! (Ps. 115:16–18).

In these concluding verses, the summary of Psalm 115, we are given a glimpse of the majesty of God, the vanity of idols, and the joy of man. How shall we, the living, extol the Lord? How can we keep our music ministries free of idols? I offer, as a place to begin, some core values, some cautions, and a few correctives. None of these concluding comments is original. They are by no means exhaustive. I hope they are helpful, and I hope they will foster discussion in your churches and in your fellowships of church musicians.

Some Core Values

Music ministry must be radically God-focused. It begins with God, who is Creator, Redeemer, King, and Conqueror (Rev. 4, 5, 11, 19). He is “above everything, below everything, in everything but not contained, holding all things together. He is omni-holy, transcendent, pure, altogether other, and dwells in unapproachable light.” [20]

How in this world can we ever hope to glorify God and give Him praise? What music can begin to approach the unapproachable? To our great relief and eternal benefit, the awesome and holy One moved in our direction. Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!

We realize that to be God-focused is to be Christ-centered. All that we can say about God can be rightly said of Jesus. He is in the law, writings, and prophets of the Old Testament. Jesus is the Word at creation, the glory in Isaiah 6 and the Bridegroom of the Revelation.

So what does this mean for those of us who make music for worship? (1) This pillar of ministry focuses what we will sing. Our texts are primarily to God, especially to God in Christ, and those that are not are about Him. (2) Questions of “style” are man-centered. We ask a different question: “May I (or, do I dare) offer this music to God as revealed in the Bible?” (3) God-focused, Christ-centered music ministry calls for our best efforts, while recognizing that we can never produce anything worthy of so great a Savior. This is humbling!

Working through the complex set of issues regarding church music, we do well to remember that worship is: God-centered, Scripture-focused, people-sensitive.

How easy it is to reverse the order. It is so critical that we build everything upon the core commitment of God-focused ministry.

The music ministry is Word-dominated. This flows naturally from the pillar of Christ-centeredness. Jesus is the Word of God in the beginning (John 1:1), and the final Word of revelation (Heb. 1:1–3). And to be Word-dominated flows naturally back to being Christ-centered, for all the Bible is about Christ.

The written Word of God is the “text” of music ministry. Everything we sing (as congregation and as choir) is subject to Christ and His word. Beautiful texts and famous texts are used only if they can stand under the light of the Word.
For the Word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are open and laid bare to the eyes of Him with whom we have to do (Heb. 4:12–13).
“We are determined that all ministries receive their creative dimensions from God’s Word.” [21]

1) We must be people of the Word, living in trust and submission to the Bible. This shapes our character and it equips us each to be like the “noble Bereans” (see Acts 17:10–12).

2) Just like the texts, but distinct from them, music used in worship must meet biblical standards of excellence: creativity, beauty, and craftsmanship.

3) As servants of the Word, we may have to say “no” to performing, in worship, some musical expressions that as musicians we would like. For example, we cannot use an entire traditional Requiem because parts of the ancient Roman Catholic text are unbiblical.

4) Music can teach, compel, convict, inspire, etc., but it may not replace the sermon on any but the most unusual and carefully chosen occasions. Music in the service is neither more important than the sermon, nor simply a preliminary to the “main event.” The entire service is the main event. In this relationship, the music ministry is submissive (subject out of reverence for Christ) to the preaching ministry.

Our first two core values—Christ-centered and Word-dominated—are inseparable and give abundant life to ministry.

A third core value is character. There are two sides to the character issue—ministry is built on godly character, and it contributes to godly character in server and served alike.

Musicians are, by virtue of their very visible public service, worship leaders. It is imperative that our lives not detract from the message we sing. “By insisting that our ministry be character-focused, we are affirming that what we are inside is of greatest importance.” [22] Is my devotional life consistent and alive? Does it shape my thoughts, words, and actions? Are family and friends drawn to Christ by my living example? Am I morally consistent, living life and fostering attitudes that reflect my high calling in Christ? If someone from my neighborhood saw me “up front” would they consider me in my natural environment, or call me a hypocrite?

What we prepare and present in music must also contribute to godly character. It must challenge, instruct, correct, rebuke, soothe, encourage, judge, etc. In other words—as one vehicle of expressing biblical truth, the music ministry ought to be useful for changing the lives of those who hear. There is a structure for this to occur:

1) I come to my music ministry as a child of God, with my character submitted to His lordship, examined in the mirror of His Word.

2) In rehearsal and private preparation I learn, assimilate, believe, and communicate the texts of biblical truth.

3) The Holy Spirit uses my character (which may or may not be known to the listeners) and my preparation (which is obvious!), and applies it to the hearts and minds of those who listen.

4) Listeners are affected, and must deal with the Spirit’s movement in them. Will lives be changed because of our ministry? That is a work for which we are not responsible, but to which we contribute by “what we are inside.”

I believe that our ministries will be judged on one criterion: Were we good stewards of the gifts of God’s people in worship? When everything is sung and done, when the last “amen” has faded and the chandeliers in our beautiful sanctuaries lie in a dusty heap, the only important question will be, “Did we build a people who worship in spirit and in truth?”

The music ministry must bean equipping ministry—an environment for ideas and questions, resulting in investment in the ministry. Equipping ministries allow people to develop their full servant potential in Christ, to work in the areas of their gifts and passions, to stoke the “fire in the belly.”

Within the music ministry we share the “grace [that] has been given as Christ apportioned it,” and use our gifts and callings “to prepare God’s people for works of service.” Some are explorers—opening new territories for ministry; others are philosophers—applying truth to our endeavors. Still others are inviters—they draw new people into our relationships (faith, church, service); or patient laborers—teaching, guiding, correcting. Each has a gift and a role, each has a voice. In that way we see “God’s grace in its various forms.” The goal is “that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God” (Eph. 4; 1 Peter 4).

So in the ministry of music we must love one another, prefer one another, and serve one another. As we grow in unity and maturity, we also grow in our equipping ministry. Our capacity to worship (as musicians working together) limits or unleashes that of the assembly. Our lives and the materials used in worship “prepare God’s people,” “speak the truth in love,” “teach the truth that is in Jesus.” It is in the context of this people-building ministry that we are to “speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs.”

And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body; and be thankful. Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father (Col. 3:15–17).

Some Cautions

Let us be cautious of “arriving.” Let he who thinks he stands take heed, lest he fall! “Without reformation the tradition [or any entrenched commitment] becomes distorted, stale, or dead—or an idolatry.” [23]

Humility and a commitment to spiritual maturity are essential to ministers of music. As soon as we become entrenched we begin our departure from that calling. Do I wonder, “Can anything good come out of Nashville?” Warning! Do I know that I know more (and better) than my congregation? Warning! Is my philosophy of church music sewn up, and my theology impregnable? Warning! Let us hold unswervingly to essential things, but not take ourselves too seriously.

Think about our children, and the generation of worshipers that we may have already lost. “The best way to sing children out of the church is to give them [poor] music into which they cannot grow, which they will realize very quickly is designed to treat them poorly and manipulate them, just as the surrounding culture does.” [24]

Some Correctives

We will become like that which we worship.

1) Ask: May we offer this to God? He is both object and subject, both audience and lead role, the beginning and end of worship. Everything we say, sing, and do in public worship is by Him and through Him and to Him. He is present. Is this an acceptable offering? Is it creative, beautiful, and well-crafted? Does it express glory? Is it a worthy vessel of His praise? We will become like that which we worship: We will be at our best giving back to God from among His best gifts.

2) Stop singing what is not true. Examine with care the words that we sing, and the words we put before our congregations. A hymn may be tried but not true, long in the hymnal but still found wanting. A new song may surprise us with its fresh expression of timeless truth. A popular song may be a pack of theological lies and emotional falsehoods. That which is less accessible may in fact carry the weight of God’s glory. Let us be careful to sing what is true. Let us be humble enough to seek counsel when we are unsure, and to accept rebuke when we have made mistakes. We will become like that which we worship: We will be shaped by the truths we sing.

3) Do not disguise the truth. Let the package reflect the contents. The medium, I’m sorry to say, really is the message. There is no “joyful” rap—even the ode to joy has an angry edge in that mode. Jesus’ return in glory with His holy angels will not be a roller-skating party.

Marva Dawn [25] warns about sub-Christian texts—these are ways we disguise the truth: they proclaim no message about God or faith (many a Christmas song, e.g., “Bring a Torch,” is in this category). They are theologically correct but shallow (Wonder Bread songs, easy-listening, “The Name of the Lord” [a strong tower]). They contain “disinformation”—not false, but misplaced or irrelevant (“I Will Celebrate” says I will praise, but never gets around to it), they muddle theology (“Open Our Eyes, Lord”), they are more apt for the campfire or rally (“River of Life”—we get into it instead of into God).

In short, we need to sing not just “our God is an awesome God,” but that He is awesome in particular ways or because of particular characteristics: He is “immortal, invisible, God only wise, in light inaccessible hid from our eyes.” We will become like that which we worship: If we sing the truth in truthful ways, we will equip people with the truth.

4) Address God or sing about Him. We will do our faith and worship a great service if we eliminate from our singing songs about ourselves. Remember the old idol, Self? How can we keep from idolatry if our songs keep us in its presence? But if our singing always brings us to the majestic, transcendent, condescending, imminent, holy, gracious, speaking God of the Bible, how will we ever be satisfied with lifeless gods that are no gods?

When you’ve camped on the Great Plains in thunderstorms and nearly lost a son and a wife on a hike in the Badlands; when you’ve cycled the majestic northwoods at the headwaters of the Mississippi; when you’ve surprised a wolverine on a trail in the Rockies—it’s hard to get excited about the amusements of Dollywood. Lift up your eyes to the One enthroned above it all, and point your congregation to the beauty of His holiness. We will become like that which we worship: Stand in His presence, surrounded by His word, and be changed.

The highest heavens belong to the Lord, but the earth He has given to man.

Everything we make and use in worship may become an idol. Our materials, however prone to misuse, are God’s gifts to us. Let us use them to His glory, with hearts and wills conforming to His purposes. Accepting nothing that robs His glory, let us reject nothing that truly honors Him.
Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to Thy name give glory because of Thy lovingkindness, because of Thy truth. 
You who fear the Lord, trust in the Lord; He is their help and their shield. The Lord has been mindful of us; He will bless us ... the small together with the great.
The heavens are the heavens of the Lord; but the earth He has given to the sons of men. The dead do not praise the Lord, nor do any who go down into silence; but as for us, we will bless the Lord from this time forth and forever. Praise the Lord! (from Ps. 115).

About the Author

Charles D. King is minister of worship and music at College Church in Wheaton, Illinois. This is his first contribution to Reformation & Revival Journal.

Notes
  1. Roy Hawey Pearce, ed., “Young Goodman Brown,” Nathaniel Hawthorne: Tales and Sketches (New York: Library of America College Edition, 1996), 288–89.
  2. Paul Tillich, Theology of Culture (New York: Oxford University Press, 1959), 49, 213.
  3. Isaiah 44.
  4. Herbert Schlossberg, Idols for Destruction (Nashville, Tennessee: Thomas Nelson, 1983), 5.
  5. Ibid., 6.
  6. Roger Thompson, “The Pretenders,” sermon series at Berean Baptist Church (Burnsville, Minnesota, Fall 1994).
  7. Calvin Johansson, Discipling Music Ministry (Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson), 56.
  8. C. S. Lewis, “On Church Music” in Christian Reflections (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1967), 96.
  9. Thompson, ibid.
  10. Schlossberg, 6.
  11. Douglas Stuart, Communicator’s Commentary, XVIII: Ezekiel (Dallas: Word, 1989), 89.
  12. With Aaron’s golden calf in Exodus 32, “the Israelites were apparently concerned to provide their own means of securing the presence of the Lord” (David Peterson, Engaging With God, 34). References to calf-idols in prophetic writings are notably distinct from this episode, although the tendency to idolatry is well illustrated here.
  13. David Allan Hubbard, Hosea (Downers Grove, Illinois: InterVarsity Press, 1989), 216.
  14. Schlossberg, 11.
  15. W. R. Inge, quoted in Schlossberg, 9.
  16. Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, Purgatorio XXVI, 120–23; trans. John Ciardi (New York: W. W. Norton, 1977).
  17. William Willimon, The Bible: A Sustaining Presence in Worship (Valley Forge, Pennsylvania: Judson Press, 1981), 19.
  18. Judges 6.
  19. 2 Chronicles 34.
  20. R. Kent Hughes, Vision 2000 (College Church in Wheaton, January 9, 1994), 2.
  21. Vision 2000, 3.
  22. Vision 2000, 4 (emphasis added).
  23. Marva J. Dawn, Reaching Out Without Dumbing Down (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 60 (brackets added).
  24. Paul Westermeyer, “Chant, Bach, and Popular Culture” in The American Organist, November 1993, 27:11:39. 
  25. Dawn, 171–74.