Now Scripture sets forth two kinds of teaching – Law and Gospel.  The Law, in condemning sins and setting forth the gravest threats of God, is that hammer (Jer. 23:29) through which God breaks rocks, that is crushes the spirit, renders the heart contrite and humbles it, so that truly and earnestly acknowledging the multitude and magnitude of sins and of the wrath of God over sin, the mind begins to hate and detest sin, to fear the wrath and judgment of God so that it is unwilling to perish eternally under them but sighs and struggles with groaning that it may be freed from them.  There the Law indeed has and sets forth promises of life, but on condition of perfect fulfillment …. the Gospel, however, teaches that what was impossible for the Law on account of the flesh, God provided by sending His Son (Rom. 8:3).  Therefore it shows Christ, the Lamb of God, born under the Law for us, in order that He might make satisfaction to the judgment of God, revealed in the Law, by His obedience and suffering on our behalf.  This Mediator the Father sets before us in the Gospel as a propitiation by faith in His blood through the remission of sins (Rom. 3:25).  “For this is the will of the Father, that everyone who believes in the Son should not perish but have eternal life” (John 6:40).  Thus the Gospel proclaims, offers and sets before contrite and terrified consciences the grace of God, reconciliation and remission of sins freely on account of the merit of Christ; and it is His will that everyone should lay hold of and apply this benefit of the Mediator to himself.  The ministry of private absolution applies this general promise of the Gospel to the penitent individually, in order that faith may be able to state all the more firmly that the benefits of the passion of Christ are certainly given and applied to it.  Moreover, in the use of the Lord’s Supper, Christ offers, applies, and seals, to all who receive it in faith, the New Testament with the precious pledges of His body and blood, namely, that God wants to be gracious with respect to our sins and to remember our iniquities no more.

From the Treasury of Daily Prayer, Concordia Publishing House, 2008, pp. 902-903.

-Pastor Jonathan Fisk, Worldview Everlasting 9/3/10

In this episode Pastor Fisk gives the best and most concise explanation of the differences between Calvinism and Lutheranism that I’ve ever heard (or seen). It basically comes down to how the two groups view reason – and how they handle paradox.

The following is a hymn that wonderfully captures the truths expressed in the passage above. I want this sung at my funeral!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

God’s own child, I gladly say it: I am baptized into Christ!
He, because I could not pay it, gave my full redemption price.
Do I need earth’s treasures many?
I have one worth more than any
That brought me salvation free,
Lasting to eternity!

Sin, disturb my soul no longer: I am baptized into Christ!
I have comfort even stronger: Jesus’ cleansing sacrifice.
Should a guilty conscience seize me
Since my baptism did release me
In a dear forgiving flood,
Sprinkling me with Jesus’ blood?

Satan, hear this proclamation: I am baptized into Christ!
Drop your ugly accusation; I am not so soon enticed.
Now that to the font I’ve traveled,
All your might has come unraveled,
And, against your tyranny,
God, my Lord, unites with me!

Death, you cannot end my gladness: I am baptized into Christ!
When I die, I leave all sadness to inherit paradise!
Though I lie in dust and ashes
Faith’s assurance brightly flashes:
Baptism has the strength divine
To make life immortal mine.

There is nothing worth comparing to this lifelong comfort sure!
Open-eyed my grave is staring: Even there I’ll sleep secure.
Though my flesh awaits its raising,
Still my soul continues praising:
I am baptized into Christ;
I’m a child of paradise!

Text: Erdmann Neumester (1671-1756), Tr. Robert E. Voelker (b. 1957)
Tune: BACHOFEN – Johann Caspar Bachofen (1695-1755, alt.)
Christian Worship Supplement 737:2-5/Lutheran Service Book 594:2-5
(HT The Shepherd’s Study for the lyrics, HT Lutheran-Hymnal Online for the audio)

Do this, whenever you drink it, said Jesus the night of His betrayal, in remembrance of me. And we, like Israelite children before us, ask: “What is the meaning of this service?”  Is it simply kneeling at the Communion rail and thinking back about the deliverance God won for us at Calvary?  Is it digging into our memory for an event out of past?  Is it remembering Jesus, as we would reminisce about a departed loved one?  What, really, is the meaning of the Communion rite?

Here Jesus helps us out.  Take and eat; this is my body, He says of the Communion bread.  And regarding the Communion wine, He says: Drink of it, all of you.  For this is My blood of the last will and testament, which is being poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins (Matt. 26:26-28 NET).  This is no mere exercise in memory recall.  This is the real thing.  This eating and drinking is the meal of our deliverance.

As it was in the Passover, so it is in the Holy Supper.  Time and space are transcended.  Israel was delivered from bondage in Egypt only once; and yet the annual Passover was its repeated participation in that climactic deliverance.  So too, Jesus gave His body and shed His blood only once on the cross.  And yet in His holy meal He distributes that very same body and blood again and again for us Christians to eat and drink.  Do this, invites Jesus, in remembrance of me (1 Cor. 11:24).

In remembrance of me cuts in two directions.  In this sacramental eating and drinking we remember Jesus, and He also remembers us.  At the center of this remembering is the very body and blood once given for the forgiveness of sins.  The “remembrance” in this meal is far more than just a memory exercise!

For this sacred meal is a living memorial in two distinct and yet inseparable ways.  In this supper we continually recall our redemption.  It is the sign of our deliverance from certain death as we eat the body of the true Lamb of God who takes away our sins.  Yet in this holy meal God the Father also remembers the new testament in the blood of His Son, the sign and seal of His redeeming love.  This testament stands forever sure, founded on the incarnate body and blood of the Son of God.  In His instructions, Jesus Christ Himself points out for His church the benefit of this eating and drinking: given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.

In this supper Jesus preaches a powerful sermon for us.  Each time we eat and drink His body and blood once given and shed we participate in all the benefits He earned for us on His cross.  Here the forgiveness of sins is personally applied.  Not only did Jesus die for the sins of all the world, but in this sacred meal through His called servants He hands us the actual body and blood He once gave and says, for you for the forgiveness of sins.

This is a powerful public testimony.  It is personal testimony, direct from God, addressed personally to us.  This Sacrament offers, gives, and seals the same forgiveness as a Gospel sermon.  The difference is that in the eating and drinking it’s applied to us individually and personally: for you for the remission of sins. And sometimes a personal address makes all the difference in the world.  Think for a minute which kind of mail you prefer; a third-class flyer addressed to “occupant” or a first-class letter with your name on it?

Our living Lord hasn’t left anything to chance.  Because we are inclined to doubt the forgiveness of our sins, Jesus presents us with the tangible results of His death on our behalf.  Just as a canceled check is evidence of purchase, so His body once broken and His blood once shed is the sign of sins forgiven.  Under the bread and wine of His Holy Supper, Jesus Christ hands us the sign of our deliverance from sin and death.  Take eat, He says, … my body given for you….the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins (Luke 22:19, Matt. 26:28). Here there is encouragement for faith.  Here there is reason to rejoice.  For this is the meal of our deliverance in the forgiveness of our sins.

- From Dying to Live: The Power of Forgiveness by Harold L. Senkbeil, Concordia Publishing House, 1994, pp. 97-99.

The story of the young man in the video above is a very heartbreaking and extreme example of the damage that can be wreaked in people’s lives by Arminian decision theology.  I have no problem agreeing with him that the sinner’s prayer only hurts people.

I spent most of my childhood and teenage years not really sure whether or not I was saved because 1) I initially didn’t remember ever having prayed the sinner’s prayer and 2) the multiple times I do remember praying the sinner’s prayer I wasn’t sure whether I was sincere enough when I prayed it.  My experience with decision theology was not so extreme that I prayed the sinner’s prayer every night after crying for hours, as this young man did.  But I certainly have my share of “dates I was saved” written down in one place or another, and lived in constant fear that I would be left behind if Christ were to Rapture His people off the earth.

So my concern is not with the much-needed critique of decision theology.  My concern is that the answer that is presented – a very dramatic and emotional conversion experience – is just as subjective as the problem when it comes to finding assurance of salvation.

It’s obvious to me that this young man was a terrified sinner who was absolutely crushed by the Law.  You can almost feel the despair as he says again and again, “I’m not right with God, I’m not right with God.”  He is a perfect illustration of someone experiencing what the Augsburg Confession calls the first part of repentance:

Now strictly speaking, repentance consists of two parts.  One part is contrition, that is, terrors striking the conscience through the knowledge of sin.  The other part is faith, which is born of the Gospel [Romans 10:17] or the Absolution and believes that for Christ’s sake, sins are forgiven (AC XII:3-5).

And the Apology of the Augsburg Confession goes into more detail:

We say that contrition is the true terror of conscience, which feels that God is angry with sin and grieves that it has sinned.  This contrition takes place when sins are condemned by God’s Word….In these terrors, conscience feels God’s wrath against sin.  This is unknown to secure people living according to the flesh.  The conscience sees the corruption of sin and seriously grieves that it has sinned.  Meanwhile, it also runs away from God’s dreadful anger (Ap XIIa (V):29, 32).

Decision theology turns faith into a work you must do – “you need to sincerely ask Jesus to save you and to come into your heart.”  So instead of giving the terrified sinner the comfort of the Gospel freely offered, the terrified sinner is thrown back onto the sincerity of his heart – which he knows is desperately wicked, even though he might not put it in those terms.  The sinner’s prayer is always qualified by “if you really meant it.” And there are plenty of things that will make you question whether or not you really meant it.

The answer for the terrified conscience is the objective promise of the forgiveness of sins in Christ.  The Apology continues:

As the second part of repentance we add faith in Christ.  The Gospel, in which the forgiveness of sins is freely promised concerning Christ, should be presented to consciences in these terrors.  They should believe that, for Christ’s sake, their sins are freely forgiven.  This faith cheers, sustains, and enlivens the contrite, according to Romans 5:1, ‘Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God.’  This faith obtains the forgiveness of sins (Ap XIIa (V):35-36).

My concern with this video is that the answer to a person’s feelings of contrition is not presented as the objective promise of the Gospel, but instead is presented as a subjective emotional experience.  Salvation is presented almost as God reaching down out of the blue and giving someone an unshakeable feeling of being loved and forgiven and of having their sins washed away by Christ, and causing them to have affection and love for Him.

Can a Christian have such feelings?  Absolutely.  But faith is not having a subjective feeling. Faith is trust in a promise.  Feelings may follow faith, but they are not themselves faith.  Feelings come from objective reality, not the other way around.  The danger of looking to an emotional experience for assurance of salvation is this: What happens when I once again feel like a horrible sinner who doesn’t love God?  What happens when that subjective experience of God’s love and forgiveness wears off and I am left all alone with my sin and doubt?  If your assurance that God has saved you is based on an emotional experience, it’s easy to conclude that maybe God didn’t want you after all.

Revivalism in general – no matter what the theology behind it – points you back to yourself for assurance of salvation.  With Arminian revivalism – in which the sinner’s prayer plays an integral part – the burden is on you to know whether or not you have repented adequately or whether or not your prayer was sincere enough.  With Calvinistic revivalism – promoted by the likes of Paul Washer (who was mentioned in the video) and John Piper – the burden is on you to know whether or not God has sovereignly saved you.  So either way, you are driven to look to your experiences and inner life for assurance.

I am not questioning the experience of the man in the video – in fact, I can relate to him in many ways.  Nor am I knocking conversion as such.  The experience of someone moving from darkness to light might indeed be dramatic.  But any experience in my heart that arises from hearing and believing the Word of God – the Word of forgiveness spoken into my ears that says “Your sins are forgiven for the sake of Jesus Christ” – is secondary to the objective reality of what that Word says.  A person baptized as an infant who is not conscious of a day in their life when they did not trust in Christ is no less saved than a person who experiences a dramatic conversion after hearing the Word.  It is the Word of Christ that is central.  Feelings and experiences may come and go, but it is the Word of Christ that is truly unshakeable.

Here’s an excerpt:

The logic of Luther’s doctrine of justification supports a faith that is unreflective, not in the sense that believers cannot have any idea at all of whether they believe (for of course they do) but in the sense that they do not have to.  Knowing you believe is possible for Luther but not obligatory, because nothing important depends on it.  This is the import of Luther’s saying that “I cannot build on the fact that I believe.”  Christians must not rely on their faith but on God’s word and sacraments, and therefore are free not to worry about whether their faith is real or sincere enough.  Pastorally speaking, it does not matter whether I am strong or weak in faith, because in either case the word of promise refers to me and is true.  So strong or weak, confident or doubtful – even sincere or insincere – what is required of me is the same: I am to hear the Gospel promises, believe them and take them to my comfort.  Things are quite different in most varieties of Protestantism, for which the promise of the Gospel does not take the form of an external, sacramental word.  For this creates the problem of knowing whether the promise really refers to me.  When the Gospel takes the form, “whoever believes in Christ is saved,” then I cannot tell whether the promise of God is about me until I am confident that I really believe in Christ.  Reflective faith therefore becomes essential in Protestantism.

But it turns out there are reasons why those who believe they are justified by faith alone might want to have a reflective faith, reasons that are operative even in Luther.  To discern them we can return to our imaginary American revivalist asking Luther whether he is a born again Christian.  “Of course – I have been baptized,” comes the answer.  We can imagine the revivalist responding, in puzzlement or indignation: “What do you mean?  You think you’re saved just because you’re baptized?  But surely, Dr. Luther, you can see that there are plenty of people who get baptized when they’re babies but don’t get saved in the end!” Here Luther is usually inclined to give the standard Augustinian answer that Catholics would also give: “Well of course none of us are saved yet; for while we are in this mortal life we are not saved in reality (in re) but only in hope (in spe).” This answer divides Catholics from Protestants.  We can imagine the revivalist at first trying to interpret it in Protestant terms: “You mean to say you can lose your salvation?”  This is a distinctively Protestant question, which no Augustinian Catholic would think to ask.  We can imagine Luther clarifying.  “No, I said I am not saved yet.  I cannot lose what I do not yet have.  You see, to be born again is not yet to be saved.  Through mortal sin – by which I mean unbelief – we lose the new life that is given us in Christ.  That is why it is called mortal.  So baptism is only the beginning of the Christian life, and salvation belongs only to those who persevere in faith to the end of their lives.”  This clarification raises the issue that divides Luther not just from most Protestants but specifically from Calvin.  At this point indeed Calvin’s doctrine marks a radical innovation in the Augustinian tradition which is fundamental to the origin of the Protestant tradition as we now know it.

You can read the rest here.

According to its substance … the mass is nothing but the aforesaid words of Christ: “Take and eat, etc.” [Matt. 26:26], as if he were saying: “Behold, O sinful and condemned man, out of the pure and unmerited love with which I love you, and by the will of the Father of mercies [II Cor. 1:3], apart from any merit or desire of yours, I promise you in these words the forgiveness of all your sins and life everlasting.  And that you may be absolutely certain of this irrevocable promise of mine, I shall give my body and pour out my blood, confirming this promise by my very death, and leaving you my body and blood as a sign and memorial of this same promise.  As often as you partake of them, remember me, proclaim and praise my love and bounty toward you, and give thanks.”  From this … nothing else is needed for a worthy holding of mass than a faith that relies confidently on this promise, believes Christ to be true in these words of his, and does not doubt that these infinite blessings have been bestowed upon it….Who would not shed tears of gladness, indeed, almost faint for joy in Christ, if he believed with unshaken faith that this inestimable promise of Christ belonged to him?  How could he help loving so great a benefactor, who of his own accord offers, promises, and grants such great riches and this eternal inheritance to one who is unworthy and deserving of something far different?

From the Treasury of Daily Prayer, Concordia Publishing House, 2008, pp. 317-318.

However, the post – and even more so the subsequent comments – illustrates the sometimes unhealthy tendency in American evangelicalism to focus on “what’s happening inside my heart” rather than on “what happened outside of me” – as well as the rather unhealthy (in my opinion) Reformed and evangelical tendency to see repentance and faith as a one-time event, “crossing the starting line” if you will.

I tried to post a comment over at the blog but for some reason it was swallowed up into the void twice (even though I was well under 2000 characters!) so I’ll reproduce my comment here:

As a Lutheran who used to be an evangelical, I think looking inside oneself in any way for assurance of salvation will always place that assurance out of reach.

It’s interesting how “once-saved-always-saved,” “eternal security”, or “perseverance of the saints,” whatever one wants to call it, is used to try to bring comfort to people by saying they can never fall away.  Yet the qualifier is “IF their faith is real.”  For it to be any comfort, one has to know whether or not they have true saving faith.

I spent years and years on the rat-wheel of morbid introspection, trying to figure out whether my repentance was really sincere enough, whether I had surrendered my life to God enough, or whether I had enough good works to prove I was a true Christian and my faith was real.

It was only when I discovered that the Gospel was entirely outside of me – through Christ’s perfect life lived in my place, and in His death on the cross for every one of my sins, even ones I committed just today or that I commit repeatedly – that I found any sort of peace.  I discovered that the Christian life is one of daily repentance and faith in Christ alone, not a “crossing the starting line into true saving faith that you can never lose.”  Instead of worrying about whether I am “truly converted”, every day is a day of repentance and faith in Christ, nourished by the hearing of God’s word and the receiving of His Sacraments.  He is the one that creates and sustains our faith to the end through His means of grace.  The date that I “got saved” matters very little to me.  All I know is that I am baptized into Christ, that He put His name on me and that I belong to Him.

I think it is wrong to tell people to focus on their faith rather than on the Object of their faith – Jesus Christ and Him crucified for their sins.

The many comments on the post from folks struggling with the assurance of their salvation, and the well-meaning attempts of others to point them to their works and experiences in order to get that assurance brought back a lot of unhappy memories for me.  The comments along the lines of “I-thought-I-was-saved-for-twenty-years-but-found-out-I-wasn’t-and-then-God-REALLY-saved-me-by-giving-me-an-experience-of-REAL-repentance/surrender” brought back even more bad memories, of the sense I had towards the end of my days in evangelicalism that I was unwanted by God and there was nothing I could do about it.  He apparently wanted others, because He gave THEM an experience of true repentance/surrender that led to minimal struggle with sin and complete assurance of salvation…but He must not have wanted me, because He gave me no such gift.

The objective promise of Baptism – that through it God forgives my sins and applies to me the benefits of His death and resurrection – led me to the conclusion that God DID want me.  It is rooted in Scripture that God wanted me.  The words of Christ and of His apostles all said: “This is for you.”  Period.  Not, “this is for you IF your faith is real.” Just “this is for you.”  Such an objective promise leads to faith.

As an illustration: sometimes I really struggle with the sin of apathy.  There are days when I find myself completely indifferent to the things of God.  The Reformed-leaning evangelical answer to this problem might be: “Maybe your faith is not real.  You should perhaps question whether or not you are really a Christian and really have true saving faith.”

The Lutheran answer to this problem is different: “Your apathy is a sin against God.  But Christ died even for that sin.  Repent and believe that His forgiveness is for you.”  Instead of hearing that my sin disqualifies me from being a real Christian, I see God smiling down at me saying, “I forgive you even for that sin.  Return to Me.”

Every week I rack up enough sins to earn me eternal punishment thousands of times over (and I’m probably understating that).  Yet every week in the Divine Service I hear God’s word to me – “I forgive you even for those sins.  Repent and return to Me.  Look to the cross, where I suffered and died for you.  I put My name on you in Baptism.  I give you My true body and blood for the forgiveness of all your sins.  You are My beloved child.”

Because of the objective promises of God in Word and Sacrament I no longer have any doubt that God wanted me.  And still wants me.

How could I not love such a God?

The aim of this chapter is to show the necessity of conversion and to argue that it is nothing less than the creation of a Christian Hedonist.  I don’t mean you have to use this phrase, or even like this phrase.  I mean that no one is a Christian who does not embrace Jesus gladly as his most valued treasure, and then pursue the fullness of that joy in Christ that honors Him. (p. 54)

I believe that Piper has good intentions when he says this.  He is concerned that by merely telling someone “believe in Christ and you will be saved,” that that person might be lulled into a false sense of security – likely due to the fact that many equate “believing in Christ” with merely believing certain facts about Christ, or with merely praying a sinner’s prayer – neither of which necessarily involve repentance from sin.

The problem is this: in his zeal to avoid false converts, Piper ends up taking a fruit of faith – love and affection for God – and making it a condition for salvation (though this love/affection is itself a gift of God).  According to Piper, I am ultimately saved not through repentance from sin and trust in Christ, but through my love and desire for God.  Repentance and faith in Christ are fruits of this love, not the other way around.

The pursuit of joy in God is not optional.  It is not an “extra” that a person might grow into after he comes to faith.  It is not simply a way to “enhance” your walk with the Lord.  Until your heart has hit upon this pursuit, your “faith” cannot please God.  It is not saving faith (p. 73)

So at what point do I know if my heart has truly “hit upon this pursuit?”  To know whether I have true saving faith, I am asked to look within myself to see if God has created this love and desire for Him in my heart.  Not whether I simply trust in the words and promise of Christ, but whether I possess a certain feeling, or whether I have attained a level of obedience/surrender that proves that I truly love God.

What happens when I look inside myself and see nothing but sin and corruption? What happens when I see even my good works tainted and soiled with sin?  What if I look within myself and find that my heart is horribly cold toward God, that I desire everything BUT God? What then?

The answer is not to conclude “I must not really have saving faith yet.”  The answer is to repent and believe that Christ died even for those sins.  Then my love for God WILL increase – but as a fruit of faith, not as a condition for faith.

Does God forgive me because of something He sees in my heart – even if it is something He created Himself – or for the sake of Christ alone?  Can I not love God BECAUSE He saved me from hell?  Did not Martin Luther hate and rail against God in despair until he discovered the Gospel that we are justified through faith alone – wherein there was hope that even a sinner like him could be saved?

Part 3 will deal with confusion of Law and Gospel in Christian Hedonism.