Speed Trap

Seven months from today I will depart for Wittenberg Germany to preach in Luther’s historic Church. I supposed I should say “churches” because there are two of them. The Castle Church is an enormous cathedral, built by Prince Fredrick the Wise, largely for use by the Wittenburg University community. In fact, Luther is buried in that sanctuary, just below where the pulpit stands. The Town Church is smaller, more humble; appropriately built for the common folk of Wittenberg, and has served as their worship home since 1500. Luther alternated his preaching between those two sanctuaries, as will I for two weeks next summer.

But what to preach? That’s the question I have been turning over in my mind since the invitation arrived last January. My daughter thinks I should bring my “Luther costume,” and my cheesy German accent and bawdy sense of humor. Marsha says no, unless I want to get kicked out of Wittenberg the first night. What do preach to the people of Luther’s town? Do I tell Luther’s Story, and describe the unfolding of the Protestant Reformation? Or do I tell my own story, and explain how an unchurched son of a construction worker became a dubious Lutheran pastor? I say no, because without preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ, neither of those stories really matter. So that’s what I plan to do; to preach Christ and him crucified, and to tell how God used Martin Luther to call the Church back to grace and faith. And it occurs to me that I would be remiss if I did not first share this message with you, and then to the good people of Wittenberg. So here goes….

Now, most residents of Wittenberg probably already know Luther’s story, and perhaps you do, too. You know that it didn’t start with the 95 thesis he nailed to the door of that Castle Church…didn’t start with the selling of indulgences – the certificates one could purchase to guarantee forgiveness. It started in his hometown of Mansfield. He was born into a peasant family of humble means. His father, Hans, was a miner, and decided that he wanted a better life for his son, Martin. But the father’s dream was not entirely selfless; Luther’s father expected that if he put his son through law school, the son would care for the father in his later years.

From all reports, Martin Luther’s father was not a nice man. He was harsh and demanding, a gruff exterior with an interior to match. And much of what Luther did in his early life was out of love for his father, but fear of his father. All of that changed one day in 1505, when Luther was caught in a lightning storm. Fearing for his life, Luther prayed to St. Anne, the patron saint of miners. “Save me, St. Anne” he prayed, “and I will become a monk.” And she did…and he did. Within two weeks, Luther had entered the monastery at Erfurt and the life of a Roman Catholic priest.” Needless to say, his father was livid and never really got over it.

The irony of Luther finding refuge in the monastery is that Luther was tormented by God. He perceived him to be like his human father: harsh, demanding, ruthless and unforgiving. Later in his life, Luther would say “I didn’t love God; I hated God, because I could not please God.”

It was out of this torment that Luther devoted every waking hour to pleasing God. He would sleep on cold, stone floors to punish himself for his sins. On his first visit to Rome, Luther crawled up the stairs to St. Peter’s Church on his hands and knees, stopping on each stop to recite the “Our Father.” He wore out the priests with his incessant confession of sins, sometimes spending hours on end in the confessional booth, only to remember another sin when he returned to his room, and that would throw him back into his terror.

Then one night in his study, while reading the 3^rd chapter of Romans, he came across these words;

Now we know that whatever the Law says, it speaks to those who are under the Law, so that every mouth may be silenced, and the whole world may be held accountable to God. But now, apart from Law, the righteousness of God has been disclosed; the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. They are now justified by his grace as a gift…

These very words turned Luther’s faith upside-down. He now understood that one is not reconciled with God by good works, or sinless living. In fact, if that were the requirement, no one could be saved, for all have sinned and have fallen short.

The apostle Paul, the writer of those words in Romans, was no shrinking violet when it came to adherence to the Law. He was a Jew’s Jew, a strict Pharisee, growing up in a home similar to Luther’s, where your standing with God had to be earned everyday by leading a righteous life for all to see. But even Paul had to admit in this letter to the Romans that he couldn’t cut it; that his good works were a pile of manure when compared to the grace and forgiveness of Jesus Christ. Good works are a dead end, truly the “bridge to nowhere.” But all his life, Luther had been taught that following the rules was the way to gain the father’s favor: the earthly father and the Heavenly Father. And now Luther came to understand that the only way to peace with God is through His grace. Now Luther loved God. Now Luther preached faith and not good works. Now, he spoke of God’s promises, not God’s punishment.

But what it did was polarize the church; because the Church of Rome continued to perceive God as a taskmaster; rewarding good behavior and punishing disobedience. The Church of the Reformation perceived God as a gracious father who chose to discipline his daughters and sons, not with the right hand of power, but with the left hand of love. That distinction has softened over these 500 years, but continues to set our denominations apart.

When I was pastor at another Our Savior’s Lutheran Church, this one in Salem Oregon, I shared an unlikely friendship with Olaf Haaland. Ole was 30 years older than me, 22 years the sheriff of Ward County North Dakota, who had retired in Salem with his wife Doroles, and I became his pastor. Early one Saturday morning, we set out south on Interstate 5 to fish the Rogue River, and just about dawn, we saw a state trooper, lights off, motor running, hiding in the shadow of a bridge. Ole had a meltdown! “I just hate it when they do that!” he said in his Norwegian lilt. “I hate that…peace officers hiding in the darkness in order to catch people breaking the law. Instead of hiding, they should be visible on the shoulder, light flashing, making their presence known.” And then Ole said something prophetic; something I’ve never forgotten. “Their role is not to catch people breaking the law, but rather, to keep people safe?”

Now you may not embrace that theory of law enforcement; that’s okay, but Ole’s words have become for me, a perception of God. If God’s purpose is to remain hidden in this world, watching for our certain sins and disobedience, and then crying “GOTCHA!” then we have no hope. But if God makes himself very present in our lives, if we see him in every blessing, if we sense him watching over us in our weakness and in our strength, if we seek him in our study of scripture, and confess to him our deepest secrets and our darkest deeds, God will safely guide us home. The question is, how do you see God? Out to get you…or out to save you?

And how does God see you? Thanks be to God. Amen.