I have been reflecting recently on my own upbringing and, in doing so, have come to an uncomfortable realization.

My parents were faithful Christians. We attended church regularly. We prayed before meals. We prayed before bedtime. I attended Sunday school and was confirmed. My parents sincerely believed in Jesus Christ and made certain that I received a Christian education.

Yet we almost never talked about God.

Faith belonged in church. Religious education belonged to the pastor, Sunday school teachers, and confirmation instructors. At home, we lived as Christians, but we rarely discussed why we believed what we believed or what God’s Word meant for our daily lives.

Looking back, I do not blame my parents. They simply reflected the culture in which they had been raised. They likely assumed the pastor was better equipped to teach the faith. Whatever the reason, faith became something practiced primarily on Sunday rather than intentionally woven into everyday family life.

The surprising part is that I repeated the same pattern with my own children. Only much later did I realize that I had unintentionally passed along the model I had inherited.

Then something unexpected happened.

My wife began reading the Bible faithfully. I was genuinely pleased that she had taken such an interest in God’s Word, yet I found myself strangely uncomfortable. Looking back, I cannot fully explain why. I believed the Bible was God’s inspired and authoritative Word. I attended church faithfully. Yet seeing someone intentionally engage Scripture every day somehow exposed how little I had done the same.

Eventually, I decided to listen to the entire Bible in one year. That simple decision changed my life.

The more I immersed myself in God’s Word, the more I wanted to understand it. One year of listening became years of study. Today, to my own amazement, I am pursuing a Master’s degree in Orthodox Lutheran Theology. Had someone predicted that twenty years ago, I would have laughed.

Looking back, I now understand something that Martin Luther understood nearly five hundred years ago.

Following the Reformation, Luther was deeply troubled by the widespread ignorance of Scripture among ordinary Christians. During the Saxon Visitations, he discovered that many people, including those expected to teach others, knew very little of the Christian faith. His response was not merely to educate pastors.

He wrote the Small Catechism for fathers and mothers.

Again and again, before each chief part, Luther repeats the simple instruction:

“As the head of the family should teach them in a simple way to his household.”

That sentence may be one of the most overlooked in Lutheranism. Even more striking are Luther’s opening words in the Preface to the Small Catechism:

“The deplorable, miserable condition which I recently observed when visiting the parishes has constrained and compelled me to prepare this Catechism.”

Luther was not lamenting the failures of society. He was lamenting that Christians no longer knew the basics of their own faith.

His solution was revolutionary in its simplicity. Return God’s Word to the home. This was never Luther’s idea alone. It is deeply biblical.

Through Moses, God commanded His people:

“These words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.” (Deuteronomy 6:6-7)

Likewise, Psalm 78 declares that one generation is to tell the next “the glorious deeds of the Lord” so that “they should set their hope in God.”

The Apostle Paul instructs fathers:

“Bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.” (Ephesians 6:4)

And Paul reminds Timothy that from childhood he had known the Holy Scriptures, “which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus.” (2 Timothy 3:15)

Notice what all of these passages have in common. The primary responsibility for passing on the faith belongs in the home.

Pastors assist in that calling.

Congregations support it.

Christian schools strengthen it.

But none of them replace it.

Perhaps one of the greatest barriers today is not unbelief but discomfort.

Many Christians sincerely believe, yet feel awkward discussing God with their spouses, children, or grandchildren. They fear they do not know enough. They worry someone might ask a question they cannot answer. They assume religion is best left to the professionals.

I understand that feeling because I lived it.

Even after confirmation, intentionally talking about religion made me feel strangely uncomfortable. It almost felt as though I were becoming someone I was not. Looking back, I realize it was not because I lacked faith.

It was because I lacked practice.

No one had ever modeled ordinary conversations about God’s Word around the dinner table or during daily life.

The remarkable discovery was that the discomfort gradually disappeared as I spent more time immersed in Scripture.

Confidence does not come from knowing every answer. Confidence comes from becoming familiar with God’s Word.

Parents do not need theology degrees.

They simply need to be willing to open the Bible, read it together, pray together, and occasionally say, “I don’t know the answer, but let’s discover it together.”

Children learn as much from watching that humility as they do from hearing perfect explanations.

Our culture understands the importance of daily formation.

Every day, our children are being catechized by social media, entertainment, schools, advertising, politics, and popular culture. They are constantly being taught what to value, whom to trust, and how to understand the world.

If the Church offers God’s Word only for one hour each week, we should not be surprised when other voices become louder.

The Christian home must once again become a place where Christ is spoken of naturally.

Not through long theological lectures.

Not through guilt.

But through ordinary conversations rooted in God’s Word.

Read a few verses after dinner.

Ask one simple question: “What does this passage teach us about God?”

Pray together before bedtime.

Talk about Sunday’s sermon during lunch.

Small habits, practiced faithfully over many years, shape generations.

Yet we must remember that the future of the Church does not ultimately rest upon our efforts. Christ Himself has promised, “I will build My Church” (Matthew 16:18). He preserves His Church through the Holy Spirit working through the Means of Grace—His Word and Sacraments.

In His mercy, God also calls parents and grandparents into this sacred vocation. He entrusts them with the privilege of placing His Word before the next generation, trusting that the Holy Spirit will accomplish His saving work through that Word.

Luther understood this.

Scripture teaches it.

Perhaps it is time we recover it.

If we desire our children and grandchildren not merely to know about Jesus, but to know Him as their crucified and risen Lord and Savior, then the Christian faith must become more than something we attend on Sunday morning.

It must become something we joyfully read, discuss, pray, and live together every day.

Not because our conversations create faith, but because God has promised that His Word shall not return to Him empty, but shall accomplish the purpose for which He sends it (Isaiah 55:11). As Christian parents and grandparents faithfully place that life-giving Word into the hearts of their families, we may confidently trust the Holy Spirit to do what only He can do: create faith, strengthen faith, and preserve Christ’s Church from one generation to the next. May God grant us the confidence not only to believe His Word, but to speak it naturally, faithfully, and joyfully within our homes, for the blessing of our children, our grandchildren, and generations yet to come.

I appreciated Jeffray Greene’s devotion on Mark 13:37 and found much wisdom in his call for Christians to live intentionally and remain spiritually alert. His reminder that our faith is not merely a reaction to circumstances but a life guided by the Holy Spirit is both timely and encouraging. As I reflected on his words, however, I found myself considering a question that many Christians, especially those who have walked with Christ for decades, wrestle with from time to time: How do we faithfully hold together the many biblical calls to trust, watch, pray, rest, persevere, and remain alert without becoming spiritually exhausted? The following reflection grew out of that question and out of gratitude for the conversation Jeffray’s devotion prompted.

Many Christians know the feeling. Scripture calls us to trust God completely, yet it also calls us to be watchful and alert. We are told not to worry about tomorrow, yet we are warned about temptation, false teaching, and the dangers of this world. We are called to rest in Christ while also being called to pray, serve, repent, study God’s Word, and remain faithful.

At times the Christian life can feel like a spiritual tug-of-war. One moment we hear commands to be vigilant. The next we hear promises of peace and rest. Was the Christian life really meant to feel this exhausting?

From a Lutheran perspective, the answer is no. Much of this exhaustion arises when we lose sight of the proper distinction between Law and Gospel.

Martin Luther called the distinction between Law and Gospel the highest art in Christendom. The Law reveals God’s holy will and exposes our sin. The Gospel proclaims what God has done for sinners through Jesus Christ.

The Law says:

• Be alert.
• Watch and pray.
• Love your neighbor.
• Turn away from sin.

These commands are holy, good, and necessary.

The Gospel says:

• Christ died for your sins.
• Christ is risen.
• Your sins are forgiven.
• You are justified by grace through faith.

These promises reveal God’s saving work for us in Christ.

Problems arise when Christians begin to treat God’s commands as conditions for earning or maintaining salvation. Instead of hearing the Law as God’s instruction for the redeemed life, they begin to hear it as a checklist for remaining in God’s favor.

The focus then shifts from Christ to self.

Am I trusting enough?

Am I praying enough?

Am I doing enough?

Luther knew this burden well. Before the Reformation, he devoted himself to every spiritual discipline available. Yet the harder he tried, the less peace he found. Everything changed when he discovered in Scripture that righteousness is not achieved by human effort but received through faith in Christ.

As St. Paul writes:

“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8).

As Martin Luther insisted, the Gospel is not about what we must do, but about what Christ has already done. Christ has already fulfilled the Law. Christ has already borne our sin. Christ has already secured our forgiveness. The Gospel is given, not earned. It is received by faith, not achieved by effort.

This truth helps us understand passages that seem to pull us in different directions. Jesus says, “Do not be anxious about tomorrow” (Matthew 6:34), while Peter writes, “Be sober-minded; be watchful” (1 Peter 5:8).

There is no contradiction. Jesus is addressing anxiety. Peter is addressing vigilance.

Christians are not called to live in fear because God is in control. At the same time, Christians are called to remain spiritually awake because evil is real.

The believer therefore lives neither in panic nor in carelessness.

A simple summary of the Christian life is this:

Trust God completely.
Do your duty faithfully.
Leave the results to Him.

This is not a formula for salvation. It is the fruit of faith.

The Lutheran Confessions remind us that even faith itself is God’s gift. Luther writes in his explanation to the Third Article of the Apostles’ Creed:

“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.”

That truth brings great comfort. The Christian life does not rest upon the strength of our faith but upon the faithfulness of Christ. The Holy Spirit creates and sustains faith through the Gospel and Sacraments.

This means the Christian life is simpler than many imagine. We remember our Baptism. We hear God’s Word. We pray. We serve our neighbors in the vocations God has given us. When we sin, we repent. When we fail, we return to Christ. When we are weary, we rest in His promises.

The center of the Christian life is not our performance.

The center is Christ.

The Christian is alert because Christ has saved him. The Christian is not anxious because Christ has saved him. The Christian serves because Christ has saved him. The Christian perseveres because Christ has saved him.

The foundation never changes.

The burden of maintaining salvation does not rest on our shoulders. It rests on Christ’s shoulders. Our task is not to carry Him. Our task is to be carried by Him.

That is the freedom, comfort, and certainty found in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

As our Lord Himself promises:

“Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

In Christ,
Paul Flemming

 

Jeffray Greene’s recent devotional on Mark 12:1 was thoughtful and helpful. It reminded me that everything we have belongs to God and that we are called to be faithful stewards. That is true and important. But it also helped clarify where much modern theology, especially within the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, has begun to drift away from the heart of the Gospel.

In Mark 12:1–12, Jesus tells the parable of the vineyard. A man plants a vineyard, builds it up, and entrusts it to tenants. When he sends servants to collect fruit, they are beaten and killed. Finally, he sends his son, and they kill him as well. Jesus is not primarily teaching about wealth or fairness. He is teaching about rejection, specifically, the rejection of God’s messengers and ultimately His Son.

The focus of this passage is clear: God is the owner, we are stewards, and humanity has failed. The problem is not that people failed to distribute resources equally. The problem is sin, rebellion against God and rejection of Christ.

This is where we must be careful. Much modern “social justice” theology shifts the focus away from sin and Christ and toward human systems and historical grievances. It often teaches that we must repent not only for our own sins but also for the actions of past generations. It suggests that justice requires correcting the past through social or economic means.

But Scripture does not teach this.

The Bible is clear that each person is responsible for his own sin. In Ezekiel 18:20, we read: “The soul who sins shall die. The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffer for the iniquity of the son.” This means guilt is not passed down through history in a political or social sense. We all share in original sin (Romans 5:12), but we are not held accountable for specific historical acts committed by others.

At the same time, Scripture also teaches that we are saved by grace alone. As it says in Ephesians 2:8–9, “For by grace you have been saved through faith… not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” This is the heart of Lutheran theology. We are not saved by what we do, whether that is moral effort, social activism, or attempts to correct past wrongs. We are saved by what Christ has done for us.

This is where the distinction between Law and Gospel becomes critical. The Law shows us our sin. It tells us what God requires and reveals that we fall short. As Romans 3:20 says, “Through the law comes knowledge of sin.” But the Law cannot save us. It can never be satisfied by our efforts.

This is what was rightly observed in the response to the devotional: no matter how much we do, it is never enough. We cannot give enough, repent enough, or fix enough to make ourselves right with God.

That is why we need the Gospel.

The Gospel is the good news that Christ has done what we could not do. He lived a perfect life, died for our sins, and rose again. His work is complete. As Jesus said on the cross, “It is finished” (John 19:30). There is nothing we can add to it.

This is also clearly taught in the Lutheran Confessions. The Augsburg Confession states in Article IV: “Men cannot be justified before God by their own strength, merits, or works, but are freely justified for Christ’s sake, through faith.” This is not just one teaching among many—it is the center of the Christian faith.

Good works do have a place. Lutherans affirm that faith produces good works. As Martin Luther wrote, “Faith is a living, busy, active thing.” But these works flow from faith. They do not create it, and they do not save us.

This brings us back to the issue with modern social justice theology. When the Church begins to emphasize social or historical repentance as necessary for righteousness, it risks turning good works into a new form of law. It places burdens on people that Scripture does not place. It binds consciences where God has left them free.

This does not mean that Christians should ignore injustice or fail to love their neighbors. On the contrary, we are called to serve others in love. But we do so as those who are already forgiven and free in Christ, not as those trying to earn forgiveness or correct history.

History itself is complex. Human beings have moved, settled, and fought over land for thousands of years. No group is without fault. But more importantly, Scripture does not call us to resolve all historical wrongs. It calls us to repent of our own sins and trust in Christ.

God is still at work in the world, even through flawed people and nations. As Romans 8:28 reminds us, “God works all things together for good for those who love Him.” This does not justify sin, but it does remind us that God’s purposes are greater than human history.

In the end, the Church must remain focused on its true mission: proclaiming Christ crucified and risen for the forgiveness of sins. When it shifts that focus to political or social agendas, it loses its center.

The answer is not found in human systems or ideologies. The answer is found in Christ alone. In Him, we have forgiveness, life, and salvation.

In Christ,

Paul Flemming

 

Editor’s note: The Social Statement as amended was approved by the 2025 ELCA Churchwide Assembly 762 to 16.

Rather than repeat Pastor Nelson’s comprehensive review of the 2025 ELCA Churchwide Assembly, I focus on the social statement “Faith and Civic Life: Seeking the Well-being of All” and its resolutions. This document represents a significant attempt to reshape Lutheran public witness within contemporary American civic engagement. As someone committed to the Augsburg Confession and the Book of Concord, I see this statement as indicative of the ELCA’s growing theological accommodation to secular ideologies, often undermining historic Lutheran doctrine, Christian liberty, and the two-kingdoms approach. Below, I offer a Lutheran theological rebuttal, addressing the document’s most serious theological issues and providing a confessionally-rooted correction.

Confusing the Two Kingdoms

At the heart of the ELCA’s statement is a blurring—often, a collapse—of the Lutheran distinction between the “right-hand” spiritual kingdom (regnum gratiae) and the “left-hand” civil kingdom (regnum politicum). The document’s language routinely invokes public service, advocacy, and “civic life” as vehicles for the realization of “shalom,” the biblical vision of justice, well-being, and wholeness. While Lutherans affirm that God works through both “kingdoms,” the Confessions strictly delimit their means and goals: the Church is constituted by the ministry of Word and Sacrament, calling sinners to repentance and faith; the State orders external affairs and restrains evil by the sword (Augsburg Confession XVI, XXVIII; Romans 13). By asserting that “God’s people are called to both engage in bringing about a better world and be vigilant in regard to any earthly arrangement,” the document opens the door to a confusing activism where the proclamation of the gospel is practically subordinated to the Church’s civil agenda. This is not God’s unique gift to the Church (Word and Sacrament), but a giving over of the Church’s authority to temporal ideologies and causes, however well-meaning.

Erosion of the Doctrine of Sin and Justification

Lutheran theology begins all social analysis with the acknowledgment that even the noblest human efforts—political, economic, or philanthropic—remain shot through with original sin (homo incurvatus in se). The ELCA document affirms a general brokenness but shifts quickly to systemic theories of oppression, power, and identity, echoing contemporary sociological frameworks more than biblical anthropology. Furthermore, its soteriology is social, not christological: the Church’s role is cast as “seeking justice and reconciliation,” with little mention of Law and Gospel or the unique necessity of Christ’s atoning work. The Augsburg Confession teaches that the Church alone possesses the means of grace for forgiveness and new life (Augsburg Confession V; Apology IV). In contrast, the ELCA’s focus risks distilling Lutheran teaching into general moral uplift and activism, undermining both the necessity of Christ for sinners and the Church’s saving mission.

Instrumentalization of Doctrine and Liturgy

Repeatedly, the proposed statement invokes baptismal vocation as a calling to “public advocacy” or “prophetic presence” for contemporary social causes (especially DEIA, as noted throughout the Assembly). While all Christians are called to serve their neighbor, confessional Lutherans insist this flows from justification by faith—never as a requirement or condition to secure justice in this age (Formula of Concord, SD VI). Instrumentalizing baptism and liturgy as tools for social transformation shifts their meaning from divine gift to human project. The document thus confuses the orders of creation and redemption, attempting to effect spiritual change through law-oriented means.

Undermining Christian Liberty and Congregational Autonomy

The social statement’s call to centrally program civic engagement, advocacy, and even curricular recommendations for all congregations and ministries reflects a form of ecclesial coercion foreign to Lutheran doctrine of Christian liberty (Galatians 5:1; Augsburg Confession XXVIII). The binding of conscience—especially by making DEIA or any other social framework mandatory within the Church—contradicts the very heart of the Lutheran confessional principle: “It is not necessary that human traditions, that is, rites or ceremonies, instituted by men, should be the same everywhere” (Augsburg Confession VII). The uniform imposition of such agendas threatens both the diversity and the spiritual freedom of congregations.

Conclusion

The proposed ELCA social statement on civic life is marked by theological accommodation, confusion of Law and Gospel, and a radical collapse of the Church’s spiritual calling into political activism. Lutheran theology calls for faithful two-kingdoms engagement, proclamation of Christ’s atoning work, and the preservation of Christian liberty—rejecting all attempts to transform the Church into an agent of political or social revolution. The world, not the Church, is the field for partisan experiment; the Church must remain free to preach Christ crucified for sinners, for “to him alone belongs the glory” (SD II, Luther’s Small Catechism).

 

As the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) considers sweeping constitutional amendments in 2025, it is crucial to revisit the foundational principles of the Lutheran Reformation—the Five Solas—and assess the implications of these changes for our confessional identity and mission. The Five Solas—Sola Scriptura (Scripture alone), Sola Fide (faith alone), Sola Gratia (grace alone), Solus Christus (Christ alone), and Soli Deo Gloria (to God alone be the glory)—are not merely historical slogans but enduring guideposts for Lutheran faith and practice. Recent proposals within the ELCA threaten to compromise these pillars at a time when clarity and fidelity are most needed.

Sola Scriptura and the Authority of God’s Word

The move toward gender-neutral and nonbinary language in ELCA governing documents, as proposed in the November 2024 Church Council actions, raises significant concerns about Sola Scriptura. While inclusivity is a worthy goal, altering biblical terms such as “brothers and sisters” risks detaching the church from the clear witness of Scripture, which affirms humanity as “male and female” (Genesis 1:27, Matthew 19:4). The authority of Scripture, upheld by the Lutheran Confessions, must remain the foundation for doctrine and practice. When church language is shaped more by cultural trends than by God’s revealed Word, we risk undermining the very principle that sparked the Reformation: that “God’s Word shall establish articles of faith” (Luther).

Solus Christus and the Marks of the Church

Another critical issue is the proposed expansion of voting rights to synod assemblies for non-congregational ministries—such as camps and nonprofits—that do not regularly offer Word and Sacrament ministry. The Augsburg Confession defines the Church as the assembly where the Gospel is purely taught, and the sacraments rightly administered. To broaden the definition of “church” to include organizations whose primary mission is not the proclamation of the Gospel or the administration of the sacraments risks severing the church from its Christological center. Solus Christus reminds us that Christ alone is the head of the Church, and it is His presence in Word and Sacrament that constitutes the true church—not organizational structure or social activism.

Soli Deo Gloria and Church Governance

The Commission for a Renewed Lutheran Church (CRLC) has proposed streamlining the constitutional amendment process by eliminating the second Assembly vote, thereby centralizing authority and reducing congregational input. Such a move contradicts both the spirit of the Augsburg Confession and the principle of Soli Deo Gloria, which insists that all church governance must ultimately glorify God, not merely serve institutional efficiency. Furthermore, the lack of proactive communication about these amendments undermines transparency and trust, violating the church’s commitment to open dialogue and discernment.

Sola Fide, Sola Gratia, and the Marginalization of Confessional Voices

Perhaps most troubling is the increasing marginalization of confessional and conservative voices within the ELCA. Sola Fide and Sola Gratia teach that all are justified by faith and saved by grace alone—not by ideological conformity or prevailing cultural opinions. When traditional perspectives are dismissed or excluded from meaningful dialogue, the church risks replacing genuine unity with superficial consensus, undermining the mutual respect and forbearance to which we are called (Romans 14:1, Ephesians 4:3). True inclusion, rooted in the grace of Christ, embraces the full spectrum of faithful Lutheran convictions.

A Call to Faithful Reformation

The proposed constitutional changes present a pivotal moment for the ELCA. To remain faithful to our Reformation heritage, the church must:

• Ensure all amendments are publicized directly to congregations, upholding Sola Scriptura.
• Reject fast-tracking governance changes that bypass congregational discernment, preserving Soli Deo Gloria.
• Host open forums to discuss amendments through the lens of the Five Solas, especially Solus Christus.
• Appoint confessional leaders committed to upholding Reformation theology.

The ELCA cannot credibly champion inclusion while sidelining conservative voices and obscuring governance changes. Only by realigning with the Five Solas can the church preserve its confessional integrity and witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Sola slide with list of solas and German church, courtesy of Paul Fleming.