The Feast of the Reformation
‘No, but by the law of faith. For we hold that one is justified by faith apart from works of the law.’
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The first of the great declared God-Emperors of Rome, Julius Caesar, leads a great army of Italian legionaries into the fields and forests of Gaul, the land that would be France. He has entered this land at the request of the allies of the Eternal City to defeat the enemies of the Friends of Rome.
He draws up ranks, men lined side by side, and shield upon shield, with little to fight with besides two javelins, to be thrown, and a short sword, no longer than one’s forearm.
Before them lie the Gallic horde, greater in number than the Romans, and more fierce in temperament. They are not a simple farming people, as the Romans were. They were warriors by trade, and retainers of the warlords, those who made their livelihood through the raiding of lesser nations. By Caesar’s own report, they were on average a whole span, about a foot, taller than the diminutive Italian soldiers, and in their hands they bore the longsword, what would become the so-called claymore of the Gaels, twice the length of the Roman gladius, as well as a lance two body lengths longs.
They sang songs of war, wailing and howling in the presence of these seemingly genetically inferior peasants from the south, and if this frightful vision were not enough, behind them were lined the druids, a cast of demon-conjuring priests, crying out prayers for blood to their chthonic deities, that the Romans might become a feast for foxes and birds.
Yet, Caesar writes in his commentaries, that the Romans were not afraid, for they knew Caesar was watching.
Again and again, Julius Caesar repeats this phrase, in battle after battle, they had no fear, for they knew Caesar was watching.
In this, the men were comforted.
Perhaps they were comforted in that they knew that with Caesar leading them, victory was assured, and so there was no need to fear the Gauls.
Perhaps they were comforted, for they feared Caesar more than any enemy, so great was his authority over them. They would lose their fear of the Gauls, but never lose their fear of him.
Whatever the case, they were comforted, for they had no fear.
They were comforted, for they had only right fear.
Today is the feast of the Reformation. We often hear of the Reformation taught to us in many ways: for us Lutherans, as a rediscovery of the Gospel, as the victory of the Word of God over human traditions, as the proclamation of the doctrine of justification by grace through faith.
But for our Catholic brethren, as the great schism in the Church, as the end of Papal supremacy over Europe, as the beginning of the end of the Age of Faith.
These things we have often heard, and perhaps there is truth in it all. But this is not how those who were there for the Reformation would have thought of it, much less Luther himself.
They would have seen it as nothing else, but consolation.
Consolation, an old word for ‘comfort,’ a word we often hear said again and again in our hymns and Confessions and CPH Bible studies. ‘Comfort.’ But ‘comfort’ from what?
We are prone to say comfort from just the many normal anxieties of everyday life, the anxieties which we, in the modern world, seem so very oppressed by. Worries, as Martha had, about many things. Anxieties about what we will eat, and what we will drink, and what we will wear. But these the heathen worries about also.
It is not the heathen that is comforted by the Gospel, for he has no true knowledge of God. Rather, it is the Christian that is consoled.
What is it, then, that threatens the Christian? Against what must he be consoled?
Of course, he must be consoled against the wrath of God. For the wrath of God does indeed hang over us, for all have sinned, and fallen short of the glory of God. Indeed, the wrath of God has been revealed against all unrighteousness, even all unrighteousness in us. Have we not sinned against God’s Law? Does not wrath crouch at the door, there to devour both sin and us?
But that wrath has been poured out upon Our Lord Christ upon the cross; in His flesh has He been consumed by the fire of God’s wrath, and in His body has He consumed all divine punishment, that the wages of sin might be reckoned.
Yet this, the good medieval Christian, prior to the Reformation, knew well. He knew that Jesus had expiated God’s anger. And yet he still trembled. What then must he be comforted against?
Even if God is no longer angry, He is yet still just; even if the guilt of your sin has been forgiven, yet you still must be disciplined, and disciplined greatly, if you are to enter the heavenly light. Purgatory awaits you, a great furnace and threshing floor, to tear you apart and burn you up, that, through much suffering, over many millennia, you might be made fit for the presence of the Lord, who tolerates no blemish.
Yet the Church grants indulgence. For a small fee, it grants a quick and speedy exit from the purgatorial torments. This, the good medieval Christian, prior to the Reformation, knew well. He knew that purgatory could be quickly overcome by a small fee. And yet he trembled. What then must he be comforted against?
Even if purgatory be bypassed, yet there is still the chance that one may lose the faith altogether, and without faith shall no man be saved. The conscience still assaults us, and daily seeks to overcome us, to drive us to hatred of God, or to despair of ourselves; anything that will make us flee His presence. With these murmurings the conscience is relentless.
Yet if we but remain fast in the faith, if we pray and fast and give alms, and in every way spurn the ancient foe, our conscience can be assured, and we will be carried safely by the ark of the Church into the eternal places. This, the good medieval Christian, prior to the Reformation, knew well. He knew that through many disciplines and practices, the devil’s accusations could be warded off until the day of death. And yet he still trembles. What then must he be comforted against?
If we need not fear God’s wrath, nor the Law, nor the punishment of purgatory, nor the conscience, what then shall we fear? What then remains?
This, the medieval Christian knew well. One must, nevertheless, fear God, God Himself. Not His wrath, nor His Law, nor His created world. But fear Him. After all, it is written, ‘the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.’ And fear God they did, the God who spared no His own son. The God who commanded the slaughter of the Canaanites. The God who overthrew Pharoah. The God who said that ‘the unrighteous shall in no wise inherit the kingdom of God. Be not deceived, neither fornicators nor idolators nor adulterers, nor the perverted, the effeminate, nor those who abuse themselves with mankind nor thieves, nor the covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners shall inherit the kingdom of God.’
Him, shall you fear, who has the power to cast both body and soul into the pit of fire.
And should we not fear God? After all, He is righteousness, and we are sinful and unclean. How shall we stand before His presence?
And not only God, but also the devil, who is able to twist our faith into heresy, twist our good works into pride, twist our virtue into vice; whose wiles are endless, and against whom we are helpless.
But this, then, is the Reformation, that the righteousness of God that has been revealed against all unrighteousness, is not God, the unknowable, pure, simple, hidden, and distant, eternal deity. It is, rather, the only God we know, who is God in Christ.
God, who has become man, who has for our sake and for our salvation, come down from heaven, that He might take the sin of the world upon Himself, and being united to our humanity through the incarnation, purge us of all iniquity, that we, being baptized into Him, might know that we are forgiven, and that we have been promised in Him newness of life; this Christ is God.
[By faith, we have been justified, that is, by the faithfulness of God, that He has promised He would save His people. By faith, we have been justified, apart from the law, our faith which accepts the grace of the Lord. By faith, the accusations of the devil have been silenced, and the Law rests, for its purpose has been fulfilled. Now, to us, there is no Law or Devil that stands behind us, leveling accusations against us. Now, only Christ remains.]
It is this God who commands us, this Christ. It is this God who leads us, this Jesus, and His will we fear, for it is a dreadful will indeed, for dreadful it is to raise up the Church of the Saints from the corpses of this body of sin. We fear Him, even as we fear our fathers, with a holy fear, the fear of those who tremble before what is too great to them, what is too good for them, yet still comes to them, even to bestow goodness.
We shake as we come to the front of the class as children to receive a reward from our teacher or principal. How much more shall we tremble to receive the free gift of eternal life from Christ our God? We stand in fear, not because we see wrath; rather we stand in fear, because we know mercy.
And so too do we now stand before Satan.
Before us are arrayed a true enemy; in ranks does every demon and force of hell rise against us. For the Church is hateful to Satan. Yet of them we have no fear. Every hymn we sing, this we confess, that we fear no evil, for the Lord is with us. We will fight them, and fight we must, with every discipline and sacrament and prayer. With fasting and watchfulness and self-discipline, with the Word of God, which is the sword of the Spirit, and with every virtue as our armor, we will stand before the black legion.
Yet we are without fear, for this we know, that Christ is watching. And his mercy alone shall you respect.
Yet we are without fear, for this we know, that Christ is watching. He, and He alone, leads us, His sacred army of saints, terrible and dressed in white, forgiven, yet fearful to the blinded eyes of the unclean spirits. If our Lord Christ is for us, who then can be against us? Not even Satan shall stand, and even we, by Christ’s order and command, shall take His head, daily, as we rise anew, a heavenly man in Christ.
Many of us will fall, even daily we will, even as in war, there are many casualties, and daily more. Yet a soldier has not failed for the sake of his injuries, but his injury is a testament to his faith to his nation, even as the care of his nation over his wounds is a testament to their enduring love for him. The soldier falls in battle, either to be nursed back to health, to return to the field, or to be carried back home to the Fatherland, to our Heavenly Jerusalem, to dwell with the King forevermore.
This, then, is the Reformation, that Christ, who is our righteousness, now is our God, who is our King. And now, even now, He leads us, even against the gates of hell, which shall not prevail against us.
Therefore, bare up your arms, O Christian people, and grit your teeth against the infernal foe. In life, you fight against sin within you and temptation without, to the glory of God; in death, you receive your most blessed reward, for to live is Christ, and to die is gain.
Rise, O Christian, and strike, for there of such an enemy, there is no fear to us who are being saved, for we know that Christ, our Good Shepherd, is watching; He who is our hope, and our great consolation.
For ‘though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thy rod, and thy staff, they comfort me.’
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Preached by Pastor Fields
Sermon Texts: Revelation 14:6-7; Romans 3:19-28; Matthew 11:12-19.