Christians today are concerned with one central issue: Where in the world is God?  How can I be reassured of his love in the face of the complexities and traumas of my life?…the historic answer of the heirs of the reformation has been: in the gospel.  Modern Evangelicals, however, do not see the gospel as the means of applying the love of God to the sinner as much as they see it as information about the love of God.  The gospel is understood to be an “offer of grace,” rather than the “application of grace.”  It has no power itself, the power is in your decision to accept it.

In contrast, the Lutheran church has always stressed that the gospel is both the offer of grace and the means of its application.  After dealing with the central doctrine of justification by grace through faith, that is, that God will consider our faith in Jesus as righteousness, the Augsburg Confession turns immediately to the application of salvation:

To obtain such faith God instituted the office of the ministry, that is, provided the gospel and the sacraments. Through these, as through means, he gives the Holy Spirit, who works faith, when and where he pleases, in those who hear the gospel. And the gospel teaches that we have a gracious God, not by our own merits but by the merit of Christ, when we believe this. (Augsburg Confession: Article V. “The Office of the Ministry”)

….Evangelical Christians today tend to see the gospel as mere historical data. Accordingly, if you want to take advantage of this information you do it by making a decision to commit yourself to Jesus. The Bible has a dramatically different view; here the shoe is on the other foot. God takes the initiative, just as he did in the incarnation of his Son.

The gospel is not just historical information, but the living power of the living God. Jesus said: “The words which I have spoken to you are Spirit and they are life” (John 6:63). No wonder then that Paul saw the gospel not as a static message but as life-giving power: “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes” (Romans 1:16).

From Sanctification: Christ in Action by Harold L. Senkbeil, Milwaukee: Northwestern, 1989, pp. 166-7.

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God’s Love Covers Me With Christ

Advent Midweek 1

December 1, 2010

Jeremiah 23: 5-8

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Amen.

God loves you dearly, and that is shown most clearly by the Lord’s desire to come to you to save you. Advent means “coming.” The Lord is coming. During Advent we joyfully relive the countdown to Bethlehem, waiting for the perfect timing of our God to send us our Savior as Mary’s son. We also rejoice that the Lord comes to us here and now in His forgiving ways—the Gospel, Baptism, absolution, and Christ’s body and blood. We might call this current Advent of our Lord in His forgiving ways as His second advent.

But we also wait for another coming of our Lord—Jesus’ final advent. He is coming to set His people free. On the Last Day He will judge the living and the dead. How can you be sure you are prepared for that day? How can you be sure you will be found righteous, innocent, pure, and holy? By trusting God’s beautiful, comforting promise in Jeremiah 23:6 where God promises that Christ will be your righteousness, your perfect record—no wrongs and all good credited to your account as you trust in Christ. Because “this is the name by which He will be called: ‘The Lord is our righteousness.’ ”

“The Lord is our righteousness.” There can hardly be better news than this, for we are certainly not good enough in ourselves.

Rod Torreson, the poet laureate in Grand Rapids, Michigan, is a Missouri Synod Lutheran school teacher. He grew up on a farm in Iowa. His family had a loyal farm dog. The dog was a tame, helpful, protector of the chickens and sheep. He was joyful. His whole back half would swing as his tail whipped when greeting his master. But this dog had a dark secret, a terrible double life. At night he would catch up with a pack of wild dogs and hang out. They didn’t smoke and play cards. They’d track down sheep; sink their canines past the wooly fluff right into lamb’s flesh. One morning the Torresons caught him sneaking home at sunrise with some lamb caught between his teeth.

O Christian, you are living a double life too. We look so tame and domesticated, pious little Christian family dogs. But there is a battle going on inside me, inside you. Wild dog thoughts race through our fevered minds. Animalistic instincts leap within us, seeking to be free. Free to sink our teeth into our best friend’s reputation by barking out cutting words. Free to wander off wherever we want into dens of iniquity. Free to stare our sharpened eyes on what the Lord does not want us to see, leering into the glowing computer screen, panting in the dark corner. Free to dump our Master and be our own masters as we chomp down hard on the flesh of rebellious fruit. Oh sure the loyal dog inside gains control for awhile, but “I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (Romans 7:15). We have divided hearts and split minds. We’re tame on the outside, wild on the inside. “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:24).

Lord have mercy on us! Hosanna, that is, save us! Deliver us! And even before we cry out, He already has. For God loves us dearly. He saw our need before we were. Before His advent to judge our Lord comes twice—both advents to cover us with Christ’s righteousness, His perfect goodness, that at His last advent we can stand and live forever.

That is why the God who loves you dearly sends a righteous branch from David’s clan. A beginning tree doesn’t look like much, especially a little shoot growing out of a stump. But this shoot from the stump of David’s nearly decimated family tree has got a name: “the Lord is our righteousness.”

First, this branch that God raises up is not just anyone. He is “the Lord!” This is not just some regular old descendant of David. This offspring is not another Solomon who starts out with great promise but fails miserably. This is Yahweh Himself.

Second, this branch that God raises up is not just His own righteousness—proof of the Lord’s own holiness, goodness, and perfection—but He is your substitute. He has come to stand before the court of God’s judgment in your place. He has come to be your not guilty verdict and your straight A report card. “The Lord is our righteousness.”

What a blessed substitute before God’s judgment. In place of our sinful conception—for we all like King David, as Psalm 51:5 testifies, inherited sin from our parents—God places in evidence the sinless conception of Jesus. In place of our childhood disobedience, God places in evidence the perfect obedience of Mary’s Son. In place of our teenage foolish choices, God places in evidence the wise choices of Jesus’ early manhood. In place of all the good we’ve meant to do but left undone, God places in evidence the completed work of the God-man. In place of our death, part of the wages of our sin, God places in evidence Jesus’ death because it is the wages of all our sins. In other words, when God the Judge opens your record, O Christian, He sees Jesus’ record. According to God’s judgment you’ve lived every moment from the womb to the tomb without a single failure of any kind. For “the Lord is our righteousness!” Not even the tiniest smidgen of your sin is showing—only Christ.

But remember, it’s not that you are righteous, that you’ve done the good you ought. It’s that He is righteous. And by being in Christ you are righteous, for “the Lord is our righteousness.”

So, repent. Fess up. Yes, I am a poor, miserable, wild dog of a sinner. And the eternally free Son of God, who willingly bound Himself into our slavery, proclaims you free. And the angels are rejoicing. Welcome home. Eat the Lamb of God’s flesh to feed the believer and strengthen him for the daily battle against your wild dog flesh.

Abide, that is, hang out, stick around with, Christ and His Word, Holy Scripture. Abide, hang out, dwell in the Church, the hospital for dogs infected with mad dog disease. Live in the embrace of your Baptism into Christ’s resurrection. You are God’s own child—even as the war in your body continues. The Son has defeated sin, satanic wolf, and death for you and declared you free. And on that last advent, the Day of the Resurrection, you in Christ will be completely free, no more sickness, no more aching tiredness, no more chaos, no more sin—you’ll then be as righteous as Jesus is for you today and on Judgment Day.

Until that final advent, return to the new life God gave you in Baptism. Hear your true Master’s voice. Confess the truth God’s Scripture gives you: I am a sinner. I deserve eternal punishment. But the Lord is my righteousness.

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

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.

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!
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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.

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.

The Sacrament is a sign, but at the same time it is more.  It conveys to us God’s grace.  That is what Luther had learned in his fight against the ‘sacramentarians’: only in the Real Presence of the true body and blood of Christ do we have that assurance which the Lord’s Supper gives us.  Luther himself never doubted this Presence.  It was the silent presupposition of everything which he had said in his early writings on the Sacrament as a sign and seal attached to Christ’s promise.  He had seen then where the figurative understanding of the sacramental words was bound to lead.  If ‘This is my body’, ‘This is my blood’ were understood figuratively, then there would be no assurance that ‘given for you’, ‘shed for you’ were to be taken literally.  Then the proprium of this Sacrament would be lost, the eating and drinking of what Christ had sacrificed for us, and with it the Real Presence of the whole Christ, according to his divinity and humanity, in his Church on earth, here and now, as an anticipation of our eternal union with him.  No one who knows Luther can assume that he would have been satisfied with Calvin’s doctrine, which, in spite of all realistic language, did not admit of more than that spiritual manducation which all Reformed churches teach.

From This Is My Body by Hermann Sasse, Augsburg Publishing House, 1959, p. 267.

Some of this actually sounds very familiar.

Mysticism has been practiced and promoted in American evangelical circles for years now. Thus the fact that certain segments of that population are now openly promoting Roman Catholic monastic mysticism is not terribly surprising to me. When I was an evangelical, mysticism was a big part of my spiritual life. I would have never in a million years have called it that. But looking back it seems clear and obvious.

When I was a young Christian in my late teens/early twenties I heard stories told by people in my church about their experiences of God speaking directly to them, and of the experiences they had of feeling the presence and love of God.  Various teachers that I listened to (which were looked upon with favor by my church) promoted the practice of reading the Bible in order to receive a direct message from God (while bypassing its meaning in context) – read until you come to a passage that pops out at you, and then meditate on it to see what God is saying to you personally.  The “Practice of the Presence of God” is something I am entirely familiar with because it got favorable mention at my church. I practiced journaling in such a way that I believed God was speaking to me directly through those means.  I used my imagination and my feelings in order to hear God speak to me.

An interesting side-effect of my discovery of the Reformation was that I stopped being a mystic.  The reasons why became clear later – reasons which make more puzzling and disturbing the fact that certain corners of the LCMS are now promoting such practices.

The beginning of the end of my mysticism came sometime back in the summer of 2008 when I read a particular article in Discipleship Journal.  Earlier that year, before discovering the White Horse Inn, I had subscribed to the evangelical magazine because of an ad that had promised to revitalize my walk with Christ and cure my spiritual dryness.  At the time I had never heard the word “pietism” but a few months later, devouring everything by Michael Horton and Rod Rosenbladt I could get my hands on, I realized that what I had been taught all my life could be described as a form of pietism – stressing inner experience above external promise.  And I discovered that “pietism” was a good word to describe much of what I was reading in this journal.

The author of the article wrote about how she felt like she was in a “spiritual wilderness” and how she longed for God to speak to her.  The Spirit supposedly led her to the Song of Solomon so that He could speak to her heart directly in what I would describe as a mystical experience.

Whereas previously I probably would have sought a similar sort of experience – such things weren’t foreign to me at all – now I found myself rather disturbed.  Where in Scripture does it promise that God will speak directly to our heart if we ask Him? And where in Scripture does it tell us that the Holy Spirit gives us “spiritual dry spells” so that He can lead us to be alone with Him in mystical experiences rather than convicting us of sin and leading us to repentance and faith?

The misuse of Scripture became rather obvious to me at this point.  It wouldn’t be long before I walked away from those kind of practices and never looked back.  When I discovered the external Word and Sacraments in Lutheranism it was the end of my mysticism.

All this made me wonder – why did I – or why does anyone – turn to mysticism in the first place?  What’s the appeal of it?  What drives a Christian to seek a direct experience of God?

At first I thought it was the a-sacramental nature of my evangelical beliefs. God did not have any objective means of coming to us, so naturally one might turn to mystical means in order to experience Him. But Roman Catholicism is replete with sacraments and still produces mystics galore.

The more I think about this, the more I think at least a large part of it has to do with assurance of salvation. For me the reasoning went something like this: if I can experience God directly, then I can know for sure that I am really His child and that He really has forgiven me.  If I can experience God directly, I can know that I really do have a personal relationship with Him and that He loves me personally.  I really believe that was my motivation for seeking God in such a manner.  In fact, many of my journal entries from that time bear that out.

The answer to the question of “how do I know I am a true believer?” became “because I felt God’s love and He speaks to me directly through His Word.”  It sounds innocuous but when evangelicals say “God spoke to me directly through His Word” they don’t necessarily mean “through the plain sense of the passage.” They often mean “reading my own experiences and feelings and desires into the words of Scripture, regardless of the context or plain sense of the passage.”  I vividly remember “hearing God speak directly to my heart” once using 2 Timothy 1:3-7.  I read this as a personal message from God.  Never mind that the passage was really about the Apostle Paul encouraging the young pastor Timothy – none of that mattered.  Mystical eisegesis was a small price to pay for gaining some glimmer of assurance that I was a true and sincere believer.  It must have been only the grace of God that kept me from more serious forms of error.

Like seeking such assurance through my daily obedience, such a method was bound to be a dead-end – and I inevitably discovered this.  The question always came up in my mind – how do I know all this isn’t just me talking to myself?  I grew increasingly uncomfortable using the Bible as a crystal ball.  The God that spoke to me through my journaling sounded suspiciously like me and didn’t know anything that I didn’t know.  And when I did not “hear” from God in this way it was personally devastating.  When I felt like God was speaking to me everything was fine.  But when I didn’t I wondered what God really thought about me and all the old fears about whether I was a true and sincere believer came flooding back.

When I discovered that the Gospel was entirely outside of me – and that He comes to us where He has promised to be, in the hearing of His Word and in the receiving of His Sacraments – everything changed.  I hear God’s Word confident that He is speaking plainly and that the Holy Spirit will use it to convict me of sin and point to Christ.  How do I know that I am really God’s child and that Christ’s perfect life and sacrificial death on the cross is really for me?  I am baptized into Christ and the name of the Triune God is upon me.  In my Baptism I have been buried and raised with Christ, washed in water with the Word.  How do I know that God forgives me even that sin? Because I hear from the lips of His called and ordained servant “I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”  How do I know that God wants me to be saved?  “Take, eat.  This is My body, which is for you.”  “Take, drink.  This cup is the new testament in My blood, shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.”

So I can only think that those who promote mystical practices within the LCMS have lost confidence (if they ever had any to begin with) in the objective promises of God’s Word and Sacraments.  They are embracing and promoting a form of what used to be called “Enthusiasm.” Lutherans need to be aware of the dangers of such practices.  We need to cling to the words of Christ above our own feelings and experiences, regardless of how “spiritual” the latter may seem.

Just as the truth of this divine promise [baptism], once pronounced over us, continues until death, so our faith in it ought never to cease, but to be nourished and strengthened until death by the continual remembrance of this promise made to us in baptism.  Therefore, when we rise from our sins or repent, we are merely returning to the power and the faith of baptism from which we fell, and finding our way back to the promise then made to us, which we deserted when we sinned.  For the truth of the promise once made remains steadfast, always ready to receive us back with open arms when we return….

It will therefore be no small gain to a penitent to remember above all his baptism, and, confidently calling to mind the divine promise which he has forsaken, acknowledge that promise before his Lord, rejoicing that he is still within the fortress of salvation because he has been baptized, and abhorring his wicked ingratitude in falling away from its faith and truth.  His heart will find wonderful comfort and will be encouraged to hope for mercy when he considers that the promise which God made to him, which cannot possibly lie, is still unbroken and unchanged, and indeed, cannot be changed by sins, as Paul says (II Tim. 2[:13]: “If we are faithless, he remains faithful – for he cannot deny himself.”  This truth of God, I say, will sustain him, so that if all else should fail, this truth, if he believes in it, will not fail him.  In it the penitent has a shield against all assaults of the scornful enemy, an answer to the sins that disturb his conscience, an antidote for the dread of death and judgment, and a comfort in every temptation – namely, this one truth – when he says: “God is faithful in his promises [Heb. 10:23; 11:11] and I received his sign in baptism.  If God is for me, who is against me?” [Rom. 8:31].

From the Treasury of Daily Prayer, Concordia Publishing House, 2008, pp. 1166-1167.