Author: Rev. Donavon Riley

Rev. Donavon Riley is the pastor of St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Webster, Minnesota.

Categories
Higher History

Who Was Martin Luther? Part 6

Martin Luther with tonsure

Rev. Donavon Riley

Later in life, Martin Luther remarked that he had entered the monastery in search of a gracious God. He was driven, he said, “by trembling and fidgeting.” He was worried, after two near-death experiences, that God would not allow him to enter into Paradise.

Reflecting on his time in the monastery, Martin said, “I did not think about women, money, or possessions; instead my heart trembled and fidgeted about whether God would bestow his grace on me… for I had strayed from faith and could not but imagine that I had angered God, whom I in turn had to appease by doing good works.”

Luther was taught that his sanctification, his holiness in relation to God, came by works. On the one hand, all monks believed their entry into a monastic life was a divine call and they had been ushered into the monastery by God’s grace. On the other hand, they believed if they didn’t fight the good fight of faith they would never achieve the prize of forgiveness, life, and eternal salvation. For Luther, and all monks, grace was both gift and obligation.

But Luther was also taught it was not his responsibility to walk alone into the Last Judgment. On the way, he would receive help from the Holy Spirit, the Virgin Mary and St. Augustine, and other saints. All of them who had gone ahead of Luther into heavenly glory were always ready to help him in his fight against temptation, sin, and the devil. The only question for him was, “Will you accept their offer and rely on them to direct you to your final, heavenly goal?”

It wasn’t until later, after he’d been shown the Gospel, that Luther recognized the devil’s pre-occupation with good works. But, for Martin, the devil, by attacking him in this way, had actually helped the young monk to rediscover the Gospel. Luther said, “I became a monk by driving my head through the wall: against the will of my father, my mother, of God, and of the devil.”

This “driving his head through the wall,” for Luther, is what eventually caused him to collide with the practice of selling indulgences. Also, after wearing the monk’s cowl for fifteen years, Martin was prepared to speak knowledgeably and articulately about life for a generation of monks and nuns. As he was drawn closer and closer to Gospel freedom, the burden placed on himself and his fellow monastics became an unbearable weight. It broke his back, and caused him to cry out, not to St. Anne this time, but to God, and in that he received the answer he had long searched for: good news about a merciful God—a God who was for him and was the One who led him to confess: “Christ is different than Moses, the pope, and the whole world. He is not just different, he is far more than our conscience…When the conscience attacks you, he says, ‘Believe!'”

Next time, we will look more at Luther’s life in the monastery, his trip to Rome, and his increasing conflict with the sale of indulgences.

Rev. Donavon Riley is the pastor of St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Webster, Minnesota.

Categories
Higher History

Who Was Martin Luther? Part 5

Young Martin Luther the Monk

Rev. Donavon Riley

Martin Luther wasn’t even 22 years old when he approached the monastery door in Erfurt. But he’d made up his mind. He knocked on the door of the Augustinian hermits. Martin asked the prior—the man responsible for running the monastery—to admit him.

Then Luther turned his back on a career in law, his father’s expectations, and his friends’ concerns. He allowed fear to drive him into a cloistered life. But why?

At the end of the winter semester in 1503, Martin traveled home to Mansfeld. On the way, the ceremonial dagger (a popular affectation amongst students at that time) Luther wore at his side stabbed him in the leg, probably in the femoral artery—a very dangerous, often fatal wound. A friend who had travelled with him ran to fetch a doctor, since they were still in sight of the city walls. While Luther laid there, propped against a tree, feet pointed toward the heavens, he prayed to the Mother of God: “Oh, Mary, help.” But that wasn’t the event that drove him to seek out the Augustinian hermits in Erfurt. It was, however, the beginning of the end of his law studies.

The second life threatening event, the one that finally drove young Martin into a monastery, happened on July 2, 1505. Caught in a thunderstorm, Luther believed he was about to die (again), and as fear overwhelmed him he cried out, “Help, St. Anne, [and] I will become a monk!” Family and friends tried to talk Martin out of his decision, but it was no use. Two weeks after the storm Luther threw a “going away” party for his friends. The next morning, he went and knocked on the monastery door. “You see me today and never again,” he said. He thought that was the last he’d see of the world. But it wasn’t to be for Luther. As he later remarked, “To the world I had died till God thought it was time.” Some of his friends, like Crotus Rubeanus and Johannes Nathin, compared Luther’s conversion to that of St. Paul. But, Martin didn’t see it that way, and neither did the Augustinian hermits.

Upon entry into the monastery, he was first questioned: Why did he want to join the order? Was his call truly “from God.” What happened during the storm near Stotterheim? Was he filled with fear and trembling about eternal life? Only after the order decided whether his answers were honest and true, was Luther admitted into the monastic life. He was informed of their decision when, as he lay face down at the prior’s feet, the prior prayed: “Oh, God, who kindles the hearts of those who have been converted from the vanity of the world to the victorious prize of the heavenly calling… May they recognize that the grace of their conversion has been granted gratuitously… Amen.”

Luther had come to the monastery for one purpose only. After two near-death experiences, overcome by fear and driven to question everything he’d done up to that point, what Luther wanted more than anything, what he ached for more than money, fame, or his father’s approval, was to find the merciful God.

Next time we will learn about what life was like for the young monk, Martin Luther.

Rev. Donavon Riley is the pastor of St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Webster, Minnesota.

Categories
Higher History

Who Was Martin Luther? Part 4

Wood carving of Luther rose
Saved by Christ alone

Rev. Donavon Riley

After four years at the university in Erfurt, Luther had become “magister atrium“, which is what we know as a Master of Liberal Arts. He finished second amongst seventeen students who were candidates to receive a degree that year. By the time young Martin was prepared to test for his degree, he’d devoted four years of study primarily to the classic Greek philosopher, Aristotle and all his works on metaphysics, politics, ethics, and economics.

An exciting part of a student’s education at that time happened during the last two years at university. Students learned how to interpret and debate important topics, usually from the works of Aristotle. They also were expected to devote more time to the “quadrivium”—music, arithmetic, geometry, and astronomy.

University was intense for any student. Administration and faculty set high expectations for learning and academic achievement. To make sure everyone was focused on their studies, students lived together in what we call “dorms” under strict supervision. Free time or taking a break from studies was not considered to be a part of a student’s daily routine. In fact, university life was very much based on a monastic style of life.

But, since life was so difficult during the late Middle Ages, why would anyone want to attend university? Why go through such a strict curriculum—one which many students could not complete? What was the upside to a university education and degree during such dark, apocalyptic times?

The simple answer is because there was an opportunity to become a theologian, lawyer, or doctor. Rulers and authorities always needed lawyers, especially as feudalism continued to crumble and capitalism began to capture peoples’ imaginations. More and more, daily life in city, town, and village was run by bureaucrats rather than dukes, earls, and lords.

In the field of medicine, Germany lagged far behind more medically advanced countries like Italy and England. A town doctor in Germany at the turn of the sixteenth century was, to put the best construction on things, one step above the local butcher for skill and usefulness. And often, it was the butcher who was the town doctor and dentist! But, there was a push to write new, up-to-date medical books and improve the quality of medical faculties at universities, and that meant a demand for more gifted young doctors.

Finally, skilled theologians were much sought after by the growing university faculties of Europe. Theological studies were, after all, considered “the queen of the faculties.”

To sum up, a university degree meant status, money, and a better life, not just for an individual, but possibly for his whole family.

After Luther’s success with the Master of Arts exam, his father, Hans, gifted his son with a sum of money so Martin could buy the necessary books to continue his law studies. However, several weeks later, young Martin returned the books unused to the bookseller in Gotha. He didn’t need them anymore, he said. He’d made a decision not to pursue a law degree. Martin had decided to enter the monastery instead, stunning both family and friends.

That’s why, after throwing a “going away” party, of sorts for his friends, Martin then entered the Augustinian monastery in Erfurt on July 16, 1505. Later, when he reflected on this decision at his dinner table at the “Black Cloister” in Wittenberg, Luther remarked that his decision to ignore his father’s authority, to disregard everything Hans had suffered and sacrificed so his son could enjoy a better life than he, was a sin. Luther said that he had made his decision to enter the monastery out of fear. “But how much good the merciful Lord has allowed to come of it!” he said.

Next week we will read about what motivated Luther to give up his law studies and enter a monastery. It was a big decision for Martin, and a decision that ended up affecting not just church history, but world history.

Rev. Donavon Riley is the pastor of St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Webster, Minnesota.

Categories
Higher History

Who Was Martin Luther? Part 3

Paying indulgences

Rev. Donavon Riley

Martin Luther, like most people during the sixteenth century, lived during a time of both earthly and spiritual insecurity. Frequent wars, plagues, peasant revolts, and famine meant people had to struggle to secure daily bread. And, at the same time that they were worried about sustenance, the church taught that sins could be atoned for by praying to the saints, making pilgrimages, worshipping holy relics, and the like.

The world Luther grew up in was an apocalyptic time. Death could overcome a person at any moment. The Grim Reaper, Four Horsemen, and other end times figures were popular in literature, art, and music. Images of fire and brimstone occupied the church’s imagination, too. Jesus wasn’t pictured as a merciful shepherd or suffering servant, but as a judge seated on a rainbow throne, a two-edged sword coming out one side of his mouth and a lily the other. They symbolized judgment and mercy, death and resurrection. This meant that the primary question on Christian’s minds was: “What must I do to avoid the sword and receive the lily?”

The church’s answer was, “Do what is in you.” Then, God willing, the church would dispense grace to penitent sinners.

To this end, at least once a year, people were expected to confess their sins to a priest. Of course, the more often the faithful Christian confessed his sins the better, but at least once a year was required. In fact, before he could go to communion, he was obligated to go to a priest for confession and absolution. However, if the priest didn’t feel the sins confessed were sincere, honest, or expressed from a contrite heart, he would ban the offender from communion until such time as he made a proper, sincere confession of sins.

Then there was purgatory. In Luther’s day, the church taught that anyone who had not done enough in this life to be purged of all their earthly sins must pay for them in purgatory. As Luther scholar James Kittelson writes: “They would sweat out every unremitted sin before they could see the gates of heaven,” unless, of course, a family member or friend could afford to offer a monetary “gift” to the church in return for a loved one’s release from purgatory.

The “indulgences” as they were called, were legal documents that came with fill-in-the-blank spaces for the purchaser, for those whom he wanted to buy out of purgatory, how many years off purgatory he wanted to pay down, and so on.

Young Martin Luther came of age in a religious culture that mirrored the world. If he worked hard enough, maybe he received his just desserts. In the same way, if he was devout and earnest about his eternal salvation, he might receive grace and be allowed to walk through heaven’s gates at the time of death.

Whether Luther received an earthly or spiritual reward, hard work was the focus. How much he applied himself, how he used the gifts God had given him and how devoted he was to his spiritual development would determine for young Luther where he ended up—not only in life but also in the afterlife.

Next week, we will look at Luther’s time in Erfurt.

NOTE: If you’ve enjoyed these articles and want to know more about Martin Luther, I’ve been following the work of my professor, James M. Kittelson, in his book Luther The Reformer: The Story of The Man and His Career. Also, in the weeks and months that follow I will introduce you, the reader, to other works by Luther scholars that I believe will help deepen your knowledge and appreciation for Luther’s life and work. Enjoy!

Rev. Donavon Riley is the pastor of St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Webster, Minnesota.

Categories
Higher History

Who Was Martin Luther? Part 2

Young Luther the student in class

Rev. Donavon Riley

When Martin was sent to school in Eisenach, his mother’s relatives helped him settle in. However, they were poor people, so life for him stayed pretty much the same as it had been in Magdeburg. He focused on his studies and sang in children’s choirs for food and a few coins. At some point, however, he met a woman named Schalbe. She was from a family of wealthy merchants. She arranged for Martin to stay in the home of a relative and eat his meals with another. This meant that after 1498, life became a bit better for Luther.

Another change that happened at Eisenach was that Martin caught the attention of the school’s headmaster, John Trebonius. He took Luther under his wing and stirred up the young student’s imagination. Trebonius, as Luther later recalled, was a gifted teacher. At the same time, Martin began a friendship with another teacher, Weigand Geldennupf. This friendship lasted up to Geldennupf’s death.

Geldennupf introduced Martin to ancient authors, like Aesop, Terence, and Virgil. The importance of this for Luther was so far reaching that later he translated Aesop’s fables into German. And, he then urged students, friends, and family to read, learn, and memorize the wonderful, wisdom-teaching fables.

It was Trebonius and Geldennupf who recognized Luther’s gifts, and it was they who paved the way for him to attend a university. Martin’s father, Hans, was very encouraged by this turn of events and did whatever he could to secure his son’s future learning, which he hoped would result in a career in church, law or medicine. Even though Hans barely earned enough to feed and support the family back home, when the time came, he made sure Martin had enough money to attend classes at the University of Erfurt.

It may be easy for us in the present to assume Martin’s intellectual skills lent themselves to excelling at his studies, and religious life and piety, but they didn’t. When he arrived at Erfurt, he was no different than any other student. And, as far as his religious life, Luther was an ordinary Roman Catholic—a believer who attended church regularly, but showed no particular excitement or desire to pursue religious studies.

Martin had learned a great deal about the Christian faith from the Schalbe’s, who were devout people, and they taught him much about monasticism. But, again, this didn’t appear to especially influence Martin’s view of the church or religion. Singing in choirs, attending church, and the like was considered a good work, a part of Luther’s Christian duty, and the way to gain spiritual security in his daily life. Salvation for Martin Luther, and everyone, was something earned. It was a religion of works.

Next week, we’ll dig into what sin, confession, and penance at the end of the 15th century contributed to a Christian’s “spiritual security” and daily life.

Rev. Donavon Riley is the pastor of St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Webster, Minnesota. 

Categories
Higher History

Who Was Martin Luther? Part 1

Hans and Margaret Luther, Martin's parents

Rev. Donavon Riley

When Martin Luther died on February 18, 1546 some people said they’d heard a rumor that demons flew out of his body. Others said witnesses at his death bed saw Martin carried into heaven by Elijah and the chariots of Israel.

But who was Martin Luther really? Was he a prophet like Elijah? A demon? A hero of the faith? A revolutionary? The man responsible for splitting Christendom once and for all?

Unlike his death, Luther’s birth wasn’t such a big deal. His dad, Hans Luder, was a peasant, meaning he was poor and of no importance to anyone who mattered. But Hans had plans, and he’d decided he wasn’t going to be a peasant his whole life.

By the time his second son, Martin, was born on November 10, 1483, Hans had moved from his hometown of Mohra to Eiselben. Hans was a good man, a devoted husband and father, and faithful. That’s why he took Martin to be baptized at the church of St. Peter on the day of his birth. Well, that and, at that time, more than sixty percent of babies died so Hans was afraid his child wouldn’t be allowed into heaven if he weren’t baptized. That day was also the Feast of St. Martin, so Hans named the boy “Martin.”

Hans’ own dad had died around the time of Martin’s birth. That meant he had no support for himself or his young family. He was on his own now. With few options, Hans went to work in his brother’s fields. But that didn’t sit right with him, so before long he left to make his own fortune.

The family moved to Mansfeld about ten miles away from Eiselben. Hans took a job in a copper mine. It was very dangerous work. Cave-ins, poison air, and water flooding into the shafts were constant threats to the miners.

Hans’ wasn’t paid very well, which meant that money was tight for the Luders when Martin was young. He later recalled that his mother beat him until his hands bled for stealing a nut off the kitchen table. Another time, Hans whipped Martin with a cane for playing a trick on someone. They wouldn’t tolerate bad behavior or dishonesty. The Luders were determined to be more than just peasants and to ensure that their children would enjoy a better life than them.

At the same time, the end of the 1400s were rough for everybody. The world was a hard and violent place. Plagues, peasant revolts, wars, famine, and drought were a part of ordinary life.

In spite of the conditions, Hans dreamed of a better life for his children no matter how dark and dreary the world around them. That’s why, instead of dragging his son into a copper mine with him, Hans sent young Martin to the town school. Later, in 1497, Martin went on to Magdeburg, then a year later to Eisenach. After that, to the University of Erfurt.

Hans wanted Martin to succeed and he was willing to sacrifice his own comfort and happiness to make it happen. Martin, on the other hand, had nothing but criticism for his education. He was not yet five years old when he started Latin school. The students were regularly insulted, cursed, and beaten in order to motivate them. On more than one occasion, young Martin was made to wear a dunce cap and referred to as “ass” for the day. If a student got into too much trouble he was sent home to be whipped with a cane by his parents.

In spite of his treatment, Martin grew to love music above all other subjects. He became very good at performing and composing music. But he wasn’t taught music so he could enjoy it. He was made to learn so he could sing in the church choir.

At Latin school, Martin learned the Lord’s Prayer, Ten Commandments, and Creed by heart. Students who failed to memorize these in Latin were whipped with a cane. Martin later recalled he was beaten fifteen times in one morning for failing to memorize and recite the assigned Latin homework.

In 1497, when he thirteen, Martin had learned enough Latin to “graduate” to another school. He went to live in Magdeburg, where he lived with the Brethren of the Common Life. They were a very pious group of laity. In between classes, Martin was made to walk the streets with classmates singing hymns and begging for food. This is also where the modern practice of “caroling” at Christmas time began. But unlike today, the boys were expected to carol all year round. They were students and beggars. If they wanted to eat or drink anything they were expected to “beg for their supper.”

No one looked at little Martin Luther and said “He’s demon-possessed!” Or, “He’s going to be the prophet of Germany!” Luther’s early life was unimportant and by his own recollection, brutal and difficult.

Next week, we will read more about Martin’s early education in Eisenach and the thing that happened at Erfurt that changed his life.

Rev. Donavon Riley is the pastor of St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Webster, Minnesota.

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Catechesis

The Great Thanksgiving

Rev. Donavon Riley

All creation praises it’s Creator (Psalm 148). And yet, because God subjected creation “to futility” (Romans 8:20) because of sin, it cries out every day in hope for the greatness that is still to come. The most sumptuous Thanksgiving dinner, the most savory foods, the most exciting conversations-all these things stir up our appetite for more. They nudge us to imagine more stuff that lasts longer than a holiday feast. We can’t help ourselves. No matter how much hot apple cider, eggnog, or mulled wine we drink, it doesn’t slake our thirst…not really. They whet our appetite for more. As soon as we push ourselves away from the table-while we look around for the nearest piece of furniture that promises a nap before the invasion of the leftovers begins-our hearts are in motion. By the time we wake up, bleary-eyed, dry-mouthed, the taste of the feast has faded from our mouths. The great things they inspired in us-the laughter, the delight, the joy-have escaped. The world is solid. It can be picked up with our forks, chewed, swallowed. But it struggles in us. It declares itself a pilgrim in our digestive tracts and reminds us that our hunger can only be satisfied for a moment. Every meal, especially holiday feasts, reminds us of what we are about.

Why do we ask, “Will you marry me?” Why do we fuse paint to canvas? Why do we lose sleep over a smoked turkey? Why do we go for after-dinner walks in the woods? Because we delight in God’s created stuff. We become like children again when we wonder at creation’s goodness. And still, no matter how good the food or conversation, we feel like we are strangers in a strange place. We’re out of step with what’s real, as if there’s got to be a better version of this family, this feast, this holiday somewhere else. For Christians, we appreciate that feeling of strangeness, a nostalgia for what hasn’t happened yet. We know why we hunger and thirst for that “somewhere else” to come to us at the last. Family, food, special days all point to the New Jerusalem. In Baptism we are given appetites, not to devour the world and forget about it, but to taste its goodness and hunger for what can satisfy all of us one time for all time.

When we pray at table, “Bless us Father, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bountiful goodness through Jesus Christ our Lord,” we acknowledge not only what’s been laid out in front of us on disposable aluminum trays, in Pyrex bowls, and ceramic pie pans. We express our desire to sit at a table where grace is received with greater thanks than Aunt Debbie’s cheesy mashed potatoes-where we may drink enough heavenly wine to drown envy, pride, resentment, bitterness, and shame; where we rejoice that dry turkey meat and runny cranberry sauce are replaced by the Body and Blood of the Word who created and recreated us, and where unsettled men and women, who struggle to escape their birthright, are baked into one joyous family in Christ Jesus. One excessive, laugh out loud, endless holiday party. The feast of the Lamb without end, where singing goes on into all hours of the night, and old jokes never feel worn out, where even the sun, moon, and stars howl in laughter at the telling.

For now, we must be satisfied with a foretaste of the eternal feast to come. At the Lord’s Supper, all creation praises its Creator. But because of sin, we eat and drink in hope for our final satisfaction at the Last Day. That doesn’t mean sin has ruined family and feasts for us. It hasn’t. Creation is good. That’s what God said, so that’s the way of it, even if Grandma Clements smells like a wet cat. The way to the eternal party then doesn’t run around God’s good creation, but through it. At the Supper of the Lamb the way is made straight and true for us. We aren’t saved so that we can run amok, trampling creation’s goodness under foot. God made us to be given to, from Him for each other today.

When He brings us to His table, He gathers us to himself, His beloved “given-to.” We are called to the party to eat well, to drink and rejoice, to love and serve each other as we have been loved and served by our heavenly Father. At the Lord’s Table it is revealed to us that all creation is the gorgeousness of God’s Fatherly heart made solid. And from His table all our feasts, every gravy-smeared plate, every wine stain on the couch, every pie crumb ground into the carpet, will cause us to give thanks for the giftedness of creation. Those things remind us again that in this life all of our thank-yous are but a foretaste of the Great Thanksgiving to come — the Supper of the Lamb without end. Amen.

Rev. Donavon Riley is pastor at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Webster, Minnesota.

Categories
Catechesis

What The Heart Wants, God Must Crucify

Rev. Donavon Riley

When Lutherans talk about law and Gospel stuff we talk about two kingdoms stuff at the same time. What is “two kingdoms stuff”? That’s the way Martin Luther talked to distinguish between the two different ways God works in and for His creation. One kingdom comes when Jesus’ death and resurrection is preached. In this kingdom sin, death, and the devil are ruled over by God yesterday, today, and all the way until the Last Day. This happens “when God gives us His Holy Spirit so that we may believe His Word and live godly lives…”, as Luther writes in the Small Catechism. Today we receive this in hope but at the resurrection it will come “in heaven forever,” when all the powers of the devil are destroyed once for all.

In the other “kingdom,” God works in and for His creation through relationships, organizations, culture, and all the different ways we’ve set up so we can live side by side with each other in the world. While these ways in which God works cannot bring “the new age,” as the New Testament calls it, they’re necessary for life as we know it. Through the stuff of this world God works to make sure His creation enjoys justice and peace. In this way Lutherans distinguish between God’s Gospel-kingdom and God’s law-kingdom, between heavenly and earthly stuff.

We can also distinguish between these two kingdoms by the things God uses in them. God rules in Christ through the Gospel. Wherever the Gospel is “preached in its truth and purity, and the sacraments rightly administered,” as the Augsburg Confession says, Christians are under the authority and rule of grace and truth. All other earthly relationships and organizations depend on the law to accomplish their plans. In our families, churches, in the different organizations and institutions, even the economy, are the ways which God rules to maintain obedience, cooperation, and mutual support amongst His creatures. The old Adam and the devil love to confuse these two kingdoms, heavenly things and earthly things, law stuff and Gospel stuff, Moses and Christ.

Christians serve freely in both kingdoms. We tell people what Jesus has done in his sacrificial death for “the sins of the world” and we love our neighbors as ourselves. Whether at home, in church, our in our communities, Christians are free to hope in Christ and trust that God is at work in creation for everyone’s good, even when we can’t see it. Even when you buy a jug of milk God is at work for your neighbor’s benefit. The dairy farmer, the creamery, the store and the clerks, the family who gather around their table to drink milk with dinner. God turns all these people and things towards the good of creation with or without our help.

But what happens when things don’t work out the way we expect? What happens when our relationships break down. Abuse shatters a family. Friends accuse us of hatred or bigotry. Our culture suffers moral bankruptcy. Then what? St. Paul says that when the law gets ahold of people it tends to have the effect that we make excuses or accuse other people to justify ourselves. When that happens we go from bad to worse in no time, until we see ourselves or other people as demonic. We accuse them of being allies with sin and death. As St. Paul put it, “The law works wrath” (Romans 4:15). The law can regulate outward behavior but it can’t change the human heart.

Our heart never stops wanting stuff. And our mind never stops justifying what our heart wants. That’s why we can use something as simple as love to turn our relationships upside and down and backwards. Who doesn’t want to live in a house rent free, to eat whatever you want out of the fridge, and let your parents pay for Higher Things conference each Summer? But, then Mom says not this year and our heart treats her as enemy. Then your mind justifies all the ways she’s never loved you, never helped you, never really supported you, and on and on it goes. We do this all the time, not just at home. When the political candidate we voted for loses we vilify the other guy. When the new pastor doesn’t pick the hymns we like we think he didn’t pick those hymns just to teach us a lesson. Whatever our heart wants our mind always justifies for us.

In the fourth question on baptism in the Small Catechism, Luther offers us some help with this. Luther asks what baptism has to do with day to day life. “It means that the old Adam in us with all sins and evil desires is to be drowned and die through day to day contrition and repentance, and on the other hand that day to day a new man is to come out and rise up to live before God in righteousness and purity forever.” (trans. mine)

The old Adam loves his projects as much as he loves to be rewarded for the successful completion of his projects. He loves to make God’s commands do-able. He even tries to do it with Luther’s explanation of baptism. He says, “Wait, I have to be contrite and repent every day, then I will be rewarded with righteousness and purity forever? I will do it!” As if he could take charge of his own death. If this were true then what Luther wrote would lead us to throw up our hands in defeat or point at ourselves as the new measure for what it means to be a Christian.

But what Luther says again and again is that we do not choose our crosses. When God comes near to speak to us the cross is always nearby too. You don’t find the cross, the cross finds you. When God lays the cross on you, you receive your limits as a person. With the cross comes built-in repentance. Contrition is built into everything you do in the world. Go to school. Get married. Find a job. Buy a house. Go on a trip. Volunteer at the local shelter. Baptize your baby. And on and on it goes. All this stuff is the cross laid on you. And that’s why, sinner that you are, you will cry out, “I’m sick of this!” “You never help me!” “Why can’t I get away from you people!” “I don’t want to do this anymore!” “I didn’t sign up for this!” “I don’t want to be married in this way anymore!” For the old Adam, all the gifts of God – even love between a man and woman that culminates in marriage – eventually become curses. That’s why the old Lutheran marriage service included these words: “nevertheless our gracious Father in heaven does not forsake his children in an estate so holy and acceptable to him.”

In marriage, God works the death of the old Adam and the resurrection of the new man in Christ. The cross God lays on people in marriage brings them to their knees, to the brink of giving up, even to the point of divorce. Then he brings the Gospel of Christ and faith to restore joy and hope. In marriage, the forgiveness of sins doesn’t come in the form of a moral necessity – do this, or the marriage is over – but as a foretaste of the new creation where we will be in union with our Bridegroom, Christ Jesus, in joy and peace forever. The Gospel opens up the giftedness of marriage to the deepest promises of freedom possible in this life.

In God’s left hand kingdom we bear the cross, suffer, and die in the stuff of day to day life. God’s commands compel us to produce good works for our neighbor’s benefit. In God’s right hand kingdom we are resurrected every day. Through his Gospel the Spirit produces the fruits of freedom, hope, and joy in us, so that sin and death don’t get the last word about our destiny. All this happens to us at the same time, everyday, whether we like it or not.

Don’t try to run away from the cross God lays on you. You can’t. Don’t try to get free from under of it or change the laws to serve your hearts’ desires. That only results in self-destructive relationships and self-serving organizations. Instead, revel in the tension that you are fully sinful and fully righteous at the same time. That your sinful flesh is under the authority of God’s good and holy law and your heart is under the authority of God’s freeing, comforting Gospel at the same time. So then, when things don’t go your way, don’t panic. That’s how stuff goes in this sinful, evil world. That’s our cross. And when things open up in front of us, when forgiveness, grace, and freedom raise us up to a new life to see and hear that all is good gift from our Father in heaven, even our cross, say, “Amen.” Christ is still Lord of heaven and earth. He will never leave you or forsake you. When you are faithless he is faithful, because he cannot break his word: “I am with you always, even until the ends of the ages.”

Rev. Donavon Riley is pastor at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Webster, MN. He is also plenary speaker at Te Deum 2015 in Las Vegas, NV.

Categories
Life Issues

The Sky Is Falling… Again

Rev. Donavon Riley

The story of Chicken Little is about a chicken who believes the world will soon come to an end. One day, when an acorn falls on his head, he mistakes it for the sky. In his panic he runs to tell the King that the sky is about to fall on all of them. Whenever he meets someone on his journey to warn the King he exclaims to them, “The sky is falling!” This phrase is often used as a common way to say someone is under the mistaken belief that disaster is imminent.

We all do it from time to time. Something happens to panic us. We think it’s so bad it means the end of us, or our friendship, or our family, or church, or faith. A friend moves away so we say, “I will never have a friend like you again.” Our parents get a divorce so we say, “It’s the end of our family.” The pastor is asked to resign because it was discovered he was having an affair so we say, “Our church will never recover.” Someone we love dies from a terrible disease, even though we prayed God would heal her so we say, “God didn’t listen to us. We will never believe in him again.” Whenever something happens to us that we think is terrible, something that means the end of us, our work or hopes, we become like Chicken Little. “The sky is falling!”

Then we wake up. We get out of bed. We get dressed, eat breakfast, get ready to go to school or work, and despite what we said the day before the sky did not fall on us while we slept. But why do we do this? Why do we over-react when we know the sky isn’t falling? It’s not the end of the world. Jesus isn’t coming on clouds with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven. The dead aren’t up out of their graves. The new Jerusalem hasn’t descended from heaven. Why do we run around, get all worked up, and say, “The sky is falling,” over and over again when we know it’s not? Because it comes natural. It’s the default position of the old Adam. He’s always got a “but” in his pocket, just in case he sees that the sky may fall on him.

“Yes, I believe God is Almighty, Maker of the heavens and the earth. But…” “Sure, Jesus is the Lord of the Church, and it cannot go on without His body and blood. But…” “Of course the Holy Spirit must create faith in us or we can’t believe in Jesus Christ or come to Him. But…” The old Adam loves “buts” and he loves to put the brakes on God. He does it in church on Sunday. He does it at home at the dinner table. He does it in every relationship. Wherever the old Adam goes he loves to put the brakes on God’s Word and works. That means we do too. Whatever the old Adam is, we are too. To quote an old cartoon, “We have met the enemy, and he is us.”

Take for example the recent Supreme Court decision about gay marriage, which is now just “marriage.” The reactions from conservative religious leaders, pastors, and laity have declared this to be a disastrous decision by the court. Some say, “It means the end of traditional marriage.” Others say, “Christians will be persecuted for their views on the biblical definition of marriage.” And others say, “Pastors can expect to be arrested and jailed when they refuse to marry same-sex couples.” Is any of this true? Maybe, but not today or tomorrow. Not in the United States. The sky will not fall on us because of same-sex marriage. The Church will not crumble. For Lutheran pastors, orange will not be the new black.

The Supreme Court decision is one more in a series of social events that remind the Church that we are still on this side of the resurrection. Jesus said the world would hate us because of Him (Matt 10:22). Only a Church that has grown bored of Christ and the Gospel thinks the world, “this evil, sinful generation”, as St. Paul refers to it, would think anything we have to say about marriage is relevant. The old Adam will take anything God makes and use it for his own purposes. The Church, sacraments, prayer, marriage, you name it, the old Adam will pervert it. But when we think to change society, to make it over into a Christian nation, to motivate our government and those in authority to show deference to Christians, we become like Solomon who tried to remake paradise. In his eagerness to demonstrate his wisdom he became a fool and assumed anything he did was blessed by God. In the same way, when we begin with human wisdom, when we try to mix political philosophy with Christian theology the result is always the same – we become fools. We confuse heavenly and earthly things. We confuse Christ and his gifts with political legislation.

Jesus came to his own. We did not receive him. We killed him. How can his body, the Church, expect to be treated any different? How can we expect the Supreme Court or career politicians to regard marriage as anything other than a legal contract or an opportunity to grab votes away from “the other guy”? And when they fail to say, “God created marriage between a man and a woman as a reflection of the relationship between Christ and his Bride, the Church,” that doesn’t mean the sky is falling. It’s not the end of the world. Our Father in heaven causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous (Matt 5:45).

So then, if the sky is not going to fall, what will we do tomorrow? The same thing we do every day: preach Christ and him crucified. The Church is a gift given by God to the world. By God’s word, water, and blood sinners are converted, renewed, and regenerated. All sinners are called to the cross, regardless of what buts or brakes they put on God’s work. And all Christians are sent into the world to be God’s hands and mouth for the neighbor. Not some neighbors. Not just heterosexual neighbors. Not married neighbors. Not even white, upper-middle class neighbors. But everyone without distinction is our neighbor, because Christ died for them all. We are sent out into the world to do good to all so that through us God’s Spirit might win some for the kingdom.

In the work God gives us God works in and through us, as he works in the neighbor, for our good. But we’re sinners too, so things can get messy, even for Christians. We don’t want to suffer for what we believe. We’d rather not be told our beliefs are old fashioned, or bigoted, or hateful. We don’t want people to ignore us. We want special treatment. We want everyone to believe just what we believe. We want people to love us and do things for us that make us feel special. And when they don’t it’s easy to imagine things couldn’t get much worse. When that happens we tell everyone we meet on our way to warn the King, “The sky is falling!” But it’s not.

Christ is still the Lord of heaven and earth. God will continue to cause a man to leave his mother and father and cling to his wife. Children will be born. The Gospel and the sacraments will be delivered, because God is almighty and we are not. And when the day comes when pastors are put in jail for what they believe and confess about Christ, or marriage, or whatever the cause rejoice, they have been “counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name of Christ” (Acts 5:21).

Rev. Donavon Riley is pastor at St. John’s Evangelical Church in Webster, MN.

Categories
Catechesis

Why I’m A Lutheran

Rev. Donavon Riley

I didn’t grow up a Christian. I couldn’t have told you the difference between a Roman Catholic and a Baptist. None of the kids in Mr. Pelstring’s class who attended religion classes at their churches every Wednesday looked like Christians I’d seen portrayed on television or in movies. But growing up in Minnesota, our family knew more than a few Lutherans. Our neighbors, when we lived in Grove City, were Lutherans. One time, they invited us to Christmas Eve service. I didn’t understand why she’d accepted, but after supper my mother drove the two of us across town, past the gun club and snow-blanketed baseball fields, up the little hill to the church.

For a ten year old boy who’d never been to a Christmas Eve service before it was a lot to take in. I remember everyone looking at us when we walked into the church. During the service I didn’t know what was happening. There was singing. The pastor said something. There were decorations. After service, a few people said “Hello,” and “Merry Christmas,” and “Good to see you” to my mom. Then we went home. It would be more than fifteen years until we attended church together again.

In college I dated Lutherans. My roommate was a Lutheran. His friends were Lutherans. That meant whenever I’d go home with them I’d end up in a church. My girlfriends would say, “If I’m going out to have fun with you Saturday night, then you’re getting up to go to church with me Sunday morning.” My roommate’s parents treated me as one of their own, which meant if I was going to come home for the weekend I was going to church. And even though I was an outspoken atheist that was alright with them. “We love you no matter what you are,” they said.

That’s how Martin Luther’s Small Catechism ended up in my hands. I was twenty six years old. I’d just returned from Mexico where I’d volunteered for more than seven months at an orphanage. I’d taught band and choir. I was living on my friend’s love seat – my college roommate’s brother – and had no job, nowhere to be. So everyday after he went to work I’d wash up, dress, and walk down twenty-third avenue in Portland to a coffee shop. I’d read my Bible and play chess for money. Enough to pay for a bottomless cup of coffee and lunch.

That was my daily routine for six months. Get up. Dress. Walk downtown to read, drink coffee, and hustle people at chess. Sometimes I’d grab a book off his shelf to take with me. At other times I’d carry around a book the pastor down the street from our apartment would hand me after church Sunday morning. One book he handed to me was a small, navy blue book with the words “LUTHER’S SMALL Catechism” inscribed on the cover in faded yellow letters.

Hanging around all those Lutherans in college I’d seen the book before, but I’d not read it. So one day when I’d finished reading my Bible and there was no one to hustle I opened up the Catechism. I read quickly through the first part on the Ten Commandments. Then I moved on to the Creed, and that’s when it happened. I read Luther’s explanation for the Third Article of the Apostles’ Creed.

I’d been a Christian of sorts for three years. At first, I’d believed there was a god. I could even work myself up to admitting that the god I believed was there, was a “he,” and “he” was personally involved in my life. That Jesus was my Savior and God took some time though. Also, my first exposure to Christianity had been living with born-again Christians. I lived for almost a year with Charismatics, Pentecostals, and non-denominational types at a mission base in Mexico. And although they’d instilled in me the importance of reading my bible every day. Praying every day. Going to church at least twice a week. There was always an “if…then” waiting to pummel me with a jab and left hook. If you don’t read your Bible, or pray, or don’t go to church, or make changes to your life, or if you get drunk, or smoke, or do drugs, or fool around with women… then you’re not a Christian. For someone like me who hadn’t been searching for God and wasn’t looking to convert to Christianity the “dos and don’ts” of Christian living appeared to be open doors that called me out and away from Christianity. And I took every open door as an opportunity to run and say to God, “I dare you to bring me back in this time!”

That’s why when I read Luther’s explanation that, “I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel”, for the first time I felt another Christian was writing to me. This was written for me! I believe I can’t believe… Finally, someone else gets it! I don’t want to believe, but I believe. Now what?

That night after he’d gotten home from work I said to my roommate, “I read the catechism today, and if this is what Lutherans believe I want to be one!” Since then I’ve learned there are plenty of Lutherans who don’t think Luther or his catechisms are too exciting. Not enough to get them excited about being a Lutheran anyway. Not enough to hold them back from chasing after other, what they imagine are better, teachings.

But for me that’s why I’m Lutheran. Martin Luther’s Small Catechism – and the Large Catechism is in many ways even more outstanding. That’s why I remain a Lutheran and why as a Lutheran pastor I’m still excited to put Luther, put his catechism, in other peoples’ hands. I want them to read it so I can read with them, talk with them, teach them, and maybe get excited with them when they get excited by the astounding, life-changing words Martin Luther wrote, that:

“I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith. In the same way He calls, gathers, enlightens, and sanctifies the whole Christian church on earth, and keeps it with Jesus Christ in the one true faith. In this Christian church He daily and richly forgives all my sins and the sins of all believers. On the Last Day He will raise me and all the dead, and give eternal life to me and all believers in Christ.”

More than that, I’m a Lutheran because Luther lead me to the Word of God. He pointed to Jesus. He pointed me to Jesus Christ, to His cross, to His blood and death, to all that God the Father has done for me and all his creatures since the beginning of creation. I’m Lutheran for the same reason Luther was excommunicated from the Roman Catholic church. We believe terrible sinners like us can’t be saved by checking off a daily list of dos and don’ts for Christian living.

Instead, we confess that we can’t believe, even if we’re feeling optimistic and want to. But it’s not about us. It’s not about our feeling optimistic about what we can accomplish today. It’s all about the work of God, the grace of God, that comes to us through the preaching of His Spirit. The Gospel delivered to sinners that says, “Don’t worry, sinner. I call you, enlighten you, make you holy, and keep you in the true faith. I do all that for you. You’re in, not out, and there’s nothing anyone, not even the devil and all his angels, can do to change what I’ve done for you. Now go, be at peace, live, and in the living and the doing and the telling, I am with you always.”

That’s why I’m Lutheran… because I’m a Christian.

Rev. Donavon Riley is pastor at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church, Webster MN. He can be reached at elleon713@gmail.com.