Still Reforming

On October 31, 1517, 493 years ago, an Augustinian monk named Martin Luther nailed a paper to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany. This in itself was not unusual. In those days the church door served as the town bulletin board. But this particular notice written by Luther was quite unusual compared to the conventional religious wisdom of that time. That paper began the Reformation, a worldwide revolution that has continued relevance today.
The subject of this paper was the sale of indulgences. Martin Luther had 95 things to say about indulgences and hoped someone would be willing to debate them in a scholarly setting. Why was this so revolutionary? Because Luther was starting to lead a charge back into the Word of God. The Church of Luther’s era had built something almost unrecognizable over the foundation of God’s Word—a religion governed by human tradition—a religion by which heaven could be purchased by the consumer. Luther would lead a charge back into the Word of God—a charge to dig back into the foundation—a charge to discover what God really has to say to His creation.
One of the Bible passages that would come to mean so much to Luther was today’s Epistle reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans. The parallels between Paul’s situation and Luther’s are obvious, but no less striking. Paul was writing about his own people—the Jewish people at the time of Christ. The Jewish leaders had developed a distorted picture of themselves. By thinking they could fully obey the Law of God, they had developed a pride that was destroying them. The religious system of the Jewish leaders no longer required God. They felt they could fulfill the Law themselves.
But the Law, Paul asserts, cannot make us righteous. The Law shows us our sins. What we do to keep the Law will not make us right with God, because we could never do enough. And it was not only the Jewish people who had a problem with pride. Paul also cautions his Gentile audience. No one is righteous, he says. There is no difference. All have sinned. What then becomes of pride? It is excluded. A person who is truly walking with God has nothing to be prideful about. We are justified, literally, declared “not guilty,” by faith, apart from works of the Law.
The Church of Luther’s time declared just the opposite. Pope Leo X wanted to complete St. Peter’s Cathedral in Rome. Much money needed to be gathered before the mammoth project could be completed. Pope Leo ruled that indulgences—certificates of God’s pardon—should be sold in Germany. Chief among the pardon peddlers was a monk named John Tetzel. When Tetzel rolled into town, bells tolled, organs sounded, a red cross was set up bearing the pope’s coat of arms. Once in the town church, Tetzel would preach about the miraculous power of indulgences. It was proclaimed and believed by most that whoever bought an indulgence not only received forgiveness of sins, but would also escape punishment in purgatory, a kind of holding tank for souls never once mentioned in Holy Scripture.
The pope, Tetzel claimed, had more power than all the apostles and saints, even more than the Virgin Mary, for all of these were under Christ, while the pope was equal to Christ. Tetzel claimed to have saved more souls with his indulgences than Peter with his sermons. He even had a little commercial jingle—way ahead of his time, that Tetzel—“As soon as the coin in the coffer rings, the soul from purgatory springs.” As a result, many were led to believe that they did not need to repent of their sins, and that trust in Jesus Christ was unnecessary. Just buy some indulgences, and you’d be straight.
Luther was incensed when he heard about this. He knew that souls for whom Jesus died were at stake! The Gospel of Jesus was being denied by the very organization that was supposed to proclaim it! Luther protested the sale of indulgences because it threatened to destroy a Christian’s relationship with God. As Luther wrote in Thesis # 62: “The true treasure of the church is the most holy Gospel of the glory and grace of God.”
It is that same concern for souls; that same concern for getting the gospel of Jesus right that moved Paul to write to the Roman Christians. It was of utmost importance that they understood that Jewish tradition did not give Jewish people an advantage with God. Knowing the Law does not save people. Only those who always do exactly what the Law says can be saved by the Law. Since all—both Jew and Gentile—have sinned, all will die.
Luther used what Paul wrote here to demonstrate from Scripture that we are not saved by the things we do. We are saved by what Jesus has done for us. God offered His Son as “a sacrifice of atonement.” We have life “through faith in His blood.” The Church of Luther’s era had deteriorated into a self-serving, self-preserving organization. In almost every important way, God’s Word was only historically incidental to the organization. The immediate needs of the organization and its security took precedence over the Word of God. Luther used this passage and others like it to tear away the human organization where it needed to be torn. The Word itself was the demolishing and reforming force. The Law tore down. The Gospel built up. The Gospel built on the only real foundation—Jesus, the Messiah.

Let’s stop for a moment to consider the question: when is the best time to repair your home? Let’s say you notice a problem with a board on your porch. When should that be fixed? What will happen if you wait too long to fix it?
The Reformation at the time of Luther was a major event because the necessary ongoing repairs had not been done. Forget a loose board; the whole house was about to collapse. The foundation of the Church had been undermined. Because smaller repairs had been ignored, pride in tradition grew as Christ was displaced.
If reformation can be compared to keeping our house in good repair, then it is worth asking today, of ourselves, what do we need the Word of God to fix? What does the Law need to tear out of us? What does the Gospel need to build in us?
If we think of Reformation Day primarily as a day where it’s okay to slam Roman Catholicism, then we’ve missed the point entirely. We are no different than the Jews and Gentiles Paul wrote to. We are not “better people” than the Catholics, ancient or modern. We are always in danger of slipping across the boundary from confidence in what God does for us to pride in what we think we can do ourselves. Perversely, there is even a type of pride we can take in being “heirs of the Reformation” that amounts to a schoolyard attitude of “We’re smart and they’re dumb.”
But pride, of course, is excluded, according to the apostle Paul. How—by the way of works? No, by the way of faith. We are convinced that a person is justified by faith without the works of the Law. Pride is excluded by the faith that the Holy Spirit gives to us. Faith builds. Faith reforms in line with God’s Word.
The Law tears down our efforts to build a proud tradition. The grace of God points us to people who need to hear the Gospel in a way that makes sense to them.
The Law tears down our efforts to “protect the church.” The Gospel sends us to be God’s ambassadors, to take risks in showing Jesus to those who are as of now estranged from Him.
The Law breaks down our self-righteous attempts to make the church an exclusive club. The Gospel opens our hearts to other sinners that Jesus wants to reform.
The Law finds what is broken, what is rotten, what is dead, and rips it out. The Gospel of full forgiveness of sins in Jesus repairs. It makes new things. It reforms us in the likeness of Jesus, as we live through faith in His blood.

Loving God and Neighbor

What is your definition of love? The way you answer that question says a lot about you. The word “love” is pretty elastic; it can be stretched to mean all kinds of things. Maybe that’s part of the problem we have understanding love, especially as the Bible describes it.

Most people enjoy a good story. Wouldn’t you agree? Whether it’s a movie or a novel or a song, most people will listen to a good story to see how things turn out. Well, just think of the sheer volume of love stories that you’ve been told; think of the enormous number of love songs you’ve listened to; all of them putting their own spin on what love is; how to get it; how to keep it; and what happens when you lose it. And what do they say?

Most of the time, the storytellers tell us that love is first and foremost a feeling; an emotion; but not just any feeling; we are told that love is overwhelming; intoxicating; earth-shattering; and that feeling that feeling is just about the most significant experience that a human being can have. It outweighs everything. It is the deal breaker in every situation. We are told that if you’re feeling that feeling, go for it. Do it. Nothing is more important.

But then the storytellers also tell us that that feeling has a way of evaporating, and there’s nothing much you can do about it; and when it’s gone, it’s time to go looking to feel that feeling somewhere else with someone else. And so we’re left with the idea that number one, love is primarily an emotion or a feeling; and, number two, it is something over which we have little to no control. That’s a picture of romantic love that we get over and over again. Let me be very blunt and say that the storytellers have done us no favors by telling us this. Not only has this definition of love led people into countless disastrous relationships, it has also needlessly confused us when it comes to our relationship with God. How can that be?

Listen: in today’s Gospel lesson Jesus says this: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Now if the storytellers are right, and love is an earth-shattering feeling over which we have no control, these words Jesus spoke mean next to nothing. But if the love that Jesus was talking about is different somehow—if He was talking about something beyond fickle human emotion, then we’d better pay attention. We need only look at the man who spoke these words to see that He’s going deeper. Jesus would demonstrate, in the most dramatic way possible, that real love is deliberate, it is intentional, it may involve feelings but is not controlled by them, and ultimately, godly love is a matter of willing sacrifice. Godly love is a matter of willing sacrifice. Where do we see that? At the cross of Jesus.

When Jesus says, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind,” He’s not saying, “Hey, listen, you need to drum up some positive emotions towards God. You need to fall in love with God all over again.” We couldn’t do that if we tried! No, loving God with all your heart, soul, and mind is deliberate. It is a matter of mindset, of intention. It is routinely, consistently making choices that honor God as #1 in your life. And that is going to involve sacrifice. The sacrifice of what, exactly?

Basically, the sacrifice of yourself. To love God with all my heart, soul, and mind means that I acknowledge Him as God—as Lord of my life, and if He’s Lord of my life, that means I am not. If I am ever going to have a meaningful relationship with God, it has to start here. I have to give up being God. Are you doing that? If you’re not letting God call the shots in your life, do you realize what that means? It means you don’t love him like you should! It doesn’t make any sense: Oh, I love God, but I don’t care what He says. What should you do? Repent! Return! Come back to Jesus. Look at the price Jesus paid to forgive you. Have you really counted the cost of this forgiveness? It cost Jesus His life. He zeroes out your balance by suffering and dying on a cross! Do you see? Love is willing sacrifice. You and I cannot love God this way automatically. But we’ve been brought back into deep relationship with God by the willing sacrifice of Jesus. That’s love. The Apostle John said it best: “This is how we know what real love is: Jesus gave his life for us.” Willing sacrifice.

How do you respond to that? With thanks? With praise and worship? With faith? Yes, with all those, and also with love. And not love as just a feeling of gratitude, but a spirit of willing sacrifice. “If Jesus did that for me, then I want to do this for him.” And if I have to sacrifice some of my old prejudices, fine. And if I have to sacrifice some of my time to serve him, fine. And if I have to sacrifice some of my finances, fine! I love Jesus, I’m not going to say no to Him. Is that Spirit alive in you?

One way to tell is to think about your relationships. Think about the most important people in your life. Think about your friends and acquaintances. Do you remember what Jesus says about them? “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Do you see where this is going? Jesus is saying that the needs of the people around you should be just as important to you as your own. He doesn’t even say the needs of others should be more important—they should just be as important. Well, you probably guessed it; for us, even that is a sacrifice.

There is a bomb, a land mine, sitting there in the middle of all our relationships, just waiting to explode, and this is it. How do you set it off? When you go into that relationship, whatever it is, and the most important thing to you is getting your demands met, prepare for an explosion. When you insist that people need to sacrifice for you, but you see no need to sacrifice in return, get ready for an explosion. If you want to detonate the most important friendships in your life, then just insist, “You have to do for me, but I’m not about to do for you.” Then watch it go up in smoke!

If Jesus has come to you and claimed you; if you’re depending on Him to renovate your heart and soul and mind; if His willing sacrifice really is changing you, then that is going to spill over into the way you treat people. These two statements of Jesus go hand in hand. If the willing sacrifice of Jesus has captured your heart and you love Him in return, then you’ll bring that spirit into the way you deal with your spouse or your family or your friend or the person you just met. You will give up pride and the need to be right. You will give up some of what you have to meet someone else’s needs. You’ll look for reconciliation instead of revenge. Hopefully this doesn’t sound crazy to you, because it is the way of Jesus. Willing sacrifice is the way of life for Jesus and His people!

But let me just say one thing in conclusion. When you hear and when I hear the word “sacrifice,” we immediately don’t like it; we’re set against it. Why? Because it sounds like we’re losing something. It sounds like we’re going to go without. But here’s the secret:

You have a God who gave up everything to get you. So the more you give up for Him, the more you get Him. That’s not losing—that gaining the one thing you really need. Let God flood your heart, soul and mind with His sacrificial love. Everything depends on it.

Are You Thankful?

In 1636, amid the darkness of the Thirty Years' War, a German pastor, Martin Rinckart, is said to have buried five thousand of his parishioners in one year—an average of fifteen a day. His parish was ravaged by war, plague, and economic disaster. In the heart of that darkness, with the cries of fear outside his window, he sat down and wrote this table grace for his children: 'Now thank we all our God / With heart and hands and voices/ Who wondrous things had done/ In whom His world rejoices. /Who, from our mother's arms/Hath led us on our way/ With countless gifts of love/ And still is ours today.'" Here was a man who knew thanksgiving comes from love of God, not from outward circumstances.

Some of you may be having a pretty hard time giving thanks today. Certain realities in your life may have you feeling less than thankful. If that’s true for you, you’re not alone. After hearing your story, most people would probably agree that you don’t have much reason for gratitude. But then there are people like Martin Rinckart, who find reasons to thank God in the middle of an unimaginable experience. If you’re wondering if you could ever be like that faithful pastor, please listen carefully to the following words written by the apostle Paul:

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your heart and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Are there things in your life that make you anxious? Stressed-out? Lift them up to God in prayer and give thanks. That’s Paul’s message. Lift your requests to God, tell him about everything that’s troubling you, and give thanks at the same time. Give thanks before you lift up your concerns. Give thanks while you lift up your concerns. Give thanks after you lift up your concerns. And then what?

Then “the peace that transcends all understanding will guard your heart and minds in Christ Jesus.” The peace that goes beyond understanding is a gift that comes in the midst of our need. It doesn’t remove every care and solve every problem; rather, it guards our hearts and minds in Christ; It keeps you pointed at and plugged into Jesus, so that your problems do not overwhelm you.

In other words, don’t fall into the trap of thinking that being a Christian means that life will never be hard. Believing Him means that joy and peace are available to you even when life is hard. It is possible to give thanks while we lift our concerns to the Lord. Sometimes we’d rather hide our hurt, bury our anger, pretend we’re not afraid or cling to our worry, than open ourselves to the healing touch of Jesus. By nature we resist it. But if we know Jesus at all, we know we have reason to give thanks. Eternal thanks. And through even the tiniest act of thanksgiving, the Holy Spirit can begin to break down our resistance by putting Jesus in focus.

Christian author Henri Nouwen put a human face on our resistance when he described an elderly woman brought to a psychiatric center. He writes: “She was wild, swinging at everything in sight, and frightening everyone so much that the doctors had to take everything away from her. But there was one small coin which she gripped in her fist and would not give up. In fact, it took two people to pry open that clenched hand. It was as though she would lose her very self along with the coin. If they deprived her of that last possession, she would have nothing more and be nothing more. That was her fear.”

Giving thanks reminds us that we are nothing apart from God. Giving thanks loosens the grip of our clenched fist, so that we might let go of ourselves and receive the fullness of Christ and his blessings.

Is your clenched fist clinging to guilt over a long ago sin? As you give thanks to God, you are reminded of the awesome magnitude of Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross. Your sin pales in comparison to his self-giving love. Let your coin of guilt fall at the foot of Jesus’ cross, and see which is bigger.

Is your clenched fist clinging to bitterness because you have been wronged by someone? There is no undeserved suffering that Jesus cannot identify with. In my suffering, I may get a glimpse of the cross of Jesus. For that, if nothing else, I can give thanks. Let your coin of bitterness fall at the foot of Jesus’ cross—the cross that makes forgiveness possible.

Is your clenched fist clinging to possessions or people or the desire for future security? Anxiety about the possibility of losing someone or something leads us to cling even more tightly—but that makes things worse, not better. The more we give thanks for God’s faithfulness in the past, the more we come to trust in God’s future faithfulness. By reflecting on God’s past guidance and help, you may be able to drop your coin of worry at the foot of the cross, where real and lasting security was purchased for you.

And if there is something going on that is preventing you from giving any type of thanks to God, then lift your clenched fists to Him and ask Him to pry them open for you. Rejoicing and peace will not be out of your reach forever.

When you consider that the Son of God allowed himself to be rejected, battered, and killed for you--for your eternal well-being—is there anything more appropriate than thankfulness? When you remember that the same Jesus rose again and ascended into heaven to secure your eternal future, what else is there but overwhelming gratitude? Living in that gratitude and thankfulness then makes us who we are meant to be.

It is gratitude that prompted an old man to visit a broken pier on the eastern seacoast of Florida. Every Friday night, until his death in 1973, he would return, walking slowly with a large bucket of shrimp. The sea gulls would flock to this old man, as he fed them. Many years before, in October, 1942, Captain Eddie was on a mission in a B-17 to deliver an important message to General Douglas MacArthur in New Guinea. But there was an unexpected detour which would hurl Captain Eddie into the most harrowing adventure of his life.

Somewhere over the South Pacific the Flying Fortress became lost beyond the reach of radio. Fuel ran dangerously low, so the men ditched their plane in the ocean. For nearly a month Captain Eddie and his companions would fight the water, and the weather, and the scorching sun. They spent many sleepless nights recoiling as giant sharks rammed their rafts. The largest raft was nine by five. The biggest shark...ten feet long.

But of all their enemies at sea, one proved most formidable: starvation. Eight days out, their rations were long gone or destroyed by the salt water. It would take a miracle to sustain them. And a miracle occurred. In Captain Eddie's own words, "Cherry," that was the B- 17 pilot, Captain William Cherry, "read the service that afternoon, and we finished with a prayer for deliverance and a hymn of praise. There was some talk, but it tapered off in the oppressive heat. With my hat pulled down over my eyes to keep out some of the glare, I dozed off."

Now this is still Captian Eddie talking: "Something landed on my head. I knew that it was a sea gull. I don't know how I knew, I just knew. Everyone else knew too. No one said a word, but peering out from under my hat brim without moving my head, I could see the expression on their faces. They were staring at that gull. The gull meant food...if I could catch it."

And the rest, as they say, is history. Captain Eddie caught the gull. Its flesh was eaten. Parts of it were used for bait to catch fish. The survivors were sustained and their hopes renewed because a lone sea gull, uncharacteristically hundreds of miles from land, offered itself as a sacrifice. Captain Eddie lived to tell the tale.

And he never forgot. Because every Friday evening, about sunset...on a lonely stretch along the eastern Florida seacoast...you could see an old man walking...white-haired, slightly bent. His bucket filled with shrimp was to feed the gulls while he walked...to remember that one which, on a day long past, gave itself without a struggle.

Jesus Christ has saved you through his self-sacrifice. What walk of giving will you take now? What “thank you” do you have for the One whom, on a day long past, gave himself without a struggle?