If you are at all plugged into what is going on outside of Lutheran circles, you have undoubtedly seen news related to the surge of thirty-five and under young people (particularly young men) who are coming back to church… or exploring the faith for the first time.

 But they are not just showing up at any church.  These young people have done their homework.  There is no societal or family expectation from their religiously milquetoast parents that they be in church, and a high percentage of their friends are involved in neo-paganism or the various identity categories that serve a religious function in the lives of their adherents.  No, they have come to the end of all that or else they have sensed as much as deducted that something is radically wrong with the world they inhabit. 

When they show up at the doorsteps of the church, they have already “deconstructed” the secular, progressive faith into which they were catechized by both their education and the liturgical cycle of television, YouTube, and social media, for they have experienced its devastating fruits in either their own lives or the lives of those they love.  By the time they warm a pew for the first time, they may know more about the controversy regarding whether and when the exodus happened, the debates at the Council of Nicaea II, or the history of the Reformation than the pastor preaching to them remembers or maybe ever knew.

While they may know they need spiritual formation and are hungry for such, while the pastor or any experienced Christian may quickly discern how partial or narrow their autodidactic catechesis has been, they are mostly not showing up the way people showed up at church a generation ago did.  They are not seeking a vague “spirituality,” to “teach their kids morals,” or “doing what comes naturally” once the halcyon days of their twenties are over and it is time to “settle down.”  They have gagged on the modernist Kool-Aid and are seeking an emetic to get the toxins out of their system.

So, they are seeking out orthodoxy and orthopraxy. To the consternation and frustration of theological progressives everywhere, these people are seeking out Latin mass and Eastern Rite catholic parishes, vital Orthodox congregations, and traditionalist Protestant communities.  Popular YouTube theologian Jordan Cooper has done some reflecting on why such people seem more drawn to Anglicanism than Lutheranism,[1] but I think his reflections miss one key point; Lutheranism defines itself—at least in part—over and against the very thing these young people are looking for… tradition.

Because of our polemical family history (recounted each autumn as Reformation Sunday rolls around), we emphasize theological and Biblical argument rather than the reception of a precious, historical (and so immutable) heritage.

This need not be so.  I am not here proposing that we should downplay our history or heritage, but rather that we should tell the whole story.  The Reformation may have settled upon the material principle of the Reformation as justification by grace alone (sola gratia) through faith alone (sola fide) and the formal principle of the Reformation as revelation through Scripture alone (sola Scriptura), but the hermeneutic principle that brought the Reformers to these conclusions was ad fontes—back to the sources.  The Lutheran Reformation in particular was an attempt to recover what had been lost, restore what had become corrupt, and expose again the foundation upon which all later Christian theology was built.  It does not take much time with the Church Fathers to discover that as they debated the doctrines that would later be deemed the dogmas of the faith, they used the canonical Scriptures to justify their positions.  That must mean that the Scriptures were more fundamentally authoritative than the theologians (however exalted intellectually or hierarchically) who interpreted them… Sola Scriptura.

As Martin Chemnitz pointed out beautifully, the Lutheran Reformation was not ultimately about rejectionof tradition, but rejection of authority that made claims contrary to the canonical Scriptures that were in reality the beating heart of the Christian tradition.

“How may I inherit eternal life?” asked the young rich man of Jesus.  As modern scholarship has clearly shown, the Jews of Jesus’s day did not feel burdened by the Law, not desperate to “earn their salvation” by their obedience to it—that was the peculiar pathology of the Roman Catholicism Luther later encountered.  No, the Jews of Jesus’s time viewed the salvation of the Lord and the means by which they received it (by definition, means of grace) as a precious inheritance to be received from God through their forebears.

Wise Christians should do the same.  A principle of the medieval theology from which Lutheranism sprang was that we—whoever and whenever “we” happen to be—are “dwarves standing upon the shoulders of giants.”  While certainly they were sinners who got some things wrong and whose ideas would consequentially need to be corrected by consulting “the sources” of the Christian tradition (preeminently the Scriptures) just as our descendants will need to correct us, what they passed faithfully far surpassed the mistakes they made. 

While he ended his life in Orthodoxy, Church historian Jaroslav Pelikan was a Lutheran when he penned his most famous line; “Tradition is the living faith of the dead.  Traditionalism is the dead faith of the living.”  Lutherans should embrace the tradition of which we are a part and honor the theology—and practices—of our forebears in more than words, by inhabiting them, practicing them, and making them our own.

There is more to be said about how traditional congregations (and the kind of people who probably read the Lutheran CORE newsletter) can lean into the evangelism opportunities of this historical moment by “living out loud” as who they actually are, but for now, the chief thing is to remember that at its heart, the Lutheran Reformation is not against the Christian tradition, but receives it as the Lord’s inheritance to His people.

[1] https://youtu.be/iRXi6rQxTtQ?si=Bpm8A7543EAmuhre

Editor’s Note: The image above shows soldiers harvesting and cooking a fallen horse. Brett writes, “While originally written in regards to Western culture generally, the thrust of this poem more particularly applies to the Christian orthodoxy at the heart of that culture suffering at the hand of theological progressivism within the Church.” Please also check out his blog, The Faith Conservationist.

The soldiers spit and then decry
The rottenness of all their feast,
Snarling as they’re nourished on
The living flesh of dying beast

Whose labor brought them hitherto
With much travail and sacrifice,
And spared their feet the journey so,
Though all its strength could not suffice

To keep its feet unfaltering
On treach’rous pathways sought afresh;
Each misstep now recounted as
They glut themselves on tired flesh.

The horse that drew the wagon to
The edge of revolution’s field
Though scorned by révolutionnaire,
In death its final strength does yield.

So nourished, soldiers soldier on
And never dream in their dull lives
How brave the heart that perished there
Beneath their cool, assuming knives.

As a friendly commenter noted, my last article needed some serious editing. It is never good for me to find myself writing too close to a deadline; the result is always technically correct but dense, jargon-heavy prose that obscures what it seeks to clarify.  My apologies to all.

To restate succinctly what I was driving at in my last installment, in contrast to what any group might claim, we can tell what that group truly holds sacred on the one hand by what things, actions, and speech they extol and prescribe, and on the other, those at which they take offense.  Sacredness is defined for a group by what they revere and what they revile.  That which is prescribed constitutes the group’s dogmas or orthodoxy.  That which is proscribed or treated as blasphemous is like a photographic negative of the same thing, defining the sacred by contrasting it to its inverse, the profane.  This is a sociological and functional, not theological, definition of the sacred.

I ended my last article by saying, “Progressive Christianity quickly ceases to be formally Christian precisely because it holds different things to be sacred than does the Biblical, Apostolic faith … it represents a different religion, not a different way to be Christian.”

Though I differ with his work on many points, one thing that the enormously popular psychologist Jordan Peterson has helped me understand is that human thought is intrinsically and inescapably hierarchical.  Believing that we can actually think in a truly egalitarian manner is not merely logically, but neurologically incorrect; our brains could literally not handle the amount of incoming sensory data presented to it by the rest of our nervous system if it did not prioritize some information over others.  Thinking hierarchically is identical to thinking at all.

In a hierarchy, whatever occupies a higher position determines the relative value of everything beneath it.  Why in CPR training do they use the acronym “ABC”—airway, breathing, circulation—to anchor the care provider in the moment of crisis?  Because while the heart is needed to pump oxygen to the rest of the body, the lungs must be filled with oxygen before it can get to the heart, and the lungs can only be filled by artificial respiration if the airway is in turn clear.  The operation of that which is lower in the hierarchy is contingent upon the proper function of that which is higher.

What is true in an operational hierarchy is equally true in a conceptual hierarchy.  In fact, you can determine an idea’s place in a conceptual hierarchy precisely by identifying whether another idea is dependent upon or foundational to it.  Within a religious schema, this translates to what is holy, holier, or holiest.

While in seminary, one of my professors quoted one of his own graduate school mentors, lauding to us the sage wisdom that “your theology can never be any better than your anthropology.”  I made a phone call that afternoon to a mentor of my own, a double Ph.D. whose own generous but well-defined orthodoxy had catapulted him to a position of great responsibility in his own Christian tradition as an ecumenical theologian, to check whether my response was too reactionary.  “That,” he said, confirming my intuition in the carefully measured tone of voice I had come to associate with him at his scholarly best, “seems to me to be precisely backward.”

The sentiment commended by my professor placed humanity (or humanity’s assertions about God) above God’s revelatory self-disclosure.  In fact, its effect was to negate any possibility of the latter by placing humanity above God epistemologically.  This professor’s spouse, when presiding at the Eucharist during the final worship service I attended at that school, began the Lord’s Prayer with the unbiblical and self-congratulatory phrase, “Our father and mother in heaven.”  I refused to receive Communion that day not because her ego was out of control (the sins of the presider do not invalidate the grace of God) but because I was no longer sure it actually was the Eucharist, and that was because I was no longer sure the Christian God, the God that commanded His people to “have no other gods before Him,” was in fact being worshiped in that space.

If Christ is not “the image of the invisible God” (Col. 1:15), if it is not true that “if we have seen [Jesus], we have seen the Father” (John 14:9), and the Bible is not in fact a revelatory portrait of that Christ to us, something—in this case humanity—must replace the Triune God in the highest position within the religious hierarchy, whether historically Christian vocabulary is used to describe it or not.

By definition, that is some other religion than Christianity.

Finding Rest in (and for) a Restless World

Dear Friends—                                                                                                    

When did so many of the mainline denominations begin to go adrift and lose their way? Why? How? What happened? Today hundreds, if not thousands, of those same churches and now non-denominational expressions of the Church, are adopting wokeism, universalism, neo-paganism, etc., and arrogantly moving from any form of Christian orthodoxy, all while simultaneously and carelessly hitching a ride on the slippery slope upon which our present-day culture is sliding. Absolute madness, and at lightning speed … at any cost! So many questions. It’s important to raise such questions because history will, inevitably, repeat itself. We are not exempt, especially if we don’t remain vigilant and deeply rooted in Christ, being well-rested for these disquieting days.

No doubt, many of you have considered a vast array of possible responses to the fore-mentioned questions—Maybe it was because we shifted from the centrality/primacy of the Word of God, or perhaps it was how we began compromising on many ‘social issues’ in the name of compassion but forgetting that this compassion should remain grounded in Christ-centered orthodoxy, or possibly it was because of our introducing various forms of ‘contemporary’ worship to reach the bitter-battered-bored, but compromising truth. The list goes on. Maybe these responses will not provide definitive answers, but they can certainly help us to navigate a more effective and faithful future.

However, there is one obvious response that I hear little, if any, conversation about: Maybe it was because our leadership, as a whole, did not lead or work out of life-giving rest, but only found this rest after leading and working and doing … and doing some more, thereby losing its way. It seems that we’ve struggled with the age-old challenge of doing and not being, like Elijah (cf. 1 Kings 19:9-12) and so many witnesses before us, forgetting about just being still and resting in the grace of Christ, and daring to ‘hear’ His Voice, in the midst of it all!I’m convinced that we would not be where we are today, with a large portion of the Church no longer practicing traditional Christian orthodoxy, had its leaders maintained a posture of resting—IN Christ. Without spending time in this place of rest—praying (not petitioning!), waiting, and abiding—at the very least, our senses become dull and we can lose our ability to discern the spirit of this present age (cf. Romans 13:11-14). A restless world, indeed! Perhaps, that’s why the author of Hebrews is so concise about the necessity of rest: “So then, there remains a sabbath rest for the people of God; for whoever enters God’s rest also ceases from his labors as God did from His. Let us therefore strive to enter that rest, that no one fall by the same sort of disobedience.” What does this mean to you, here and now, in your present context?

So, yes, I am writing this brief article, more as a personal letter, as a follow-up to the article I wrote for the November issue of CORE Voice Newsletter called REST, INC. As your colleague, I’m simply inviting you to re-evaluate your own personal pattern of building rest into your daily schedule. Many years ago, I became intensely aware of my own unhealthy pattern of not taking time to rest and choosing instead to live out my ordained calling through the obligatory production of parochial reports, and so much more! It was about then that I bumped into Acts 6:1, 2 where it reads, “ … the Hellenists murmured against the Hebrews because their widows were neglected in the daily distribution. And the twelve summoned the body of the disciples and said, ‘It is not right that we should give up preaching the Word (and later in v. 4, “ … we will devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the Word.”) to serve tables.’” For many reasons, this passage spoke volumes to me in how I would “do” ministry henceforth. I would stop waiting on tables, putting out fires, meeting all expectations, etc. I would, instead, begin the practice of rest.

Rest will not only serve as the antidote to help us, in our pastoral-prophetic roles, to avoid the slippery slope of which I spoke in the opening paragraphs, but it’ll greatly enhance our ability to attend to the paramount work of disciple-making and mission. Find the rest you need, and even fight for it. There is much on the line.

Does doctrine matter?  That is a question that has been asked again and again in the Church.  Sometimes, the question is asked because doctrine seems so dry and boring.  It seems so much like academic hair splitting.   A second reason is because doctrine divides.   During the 17^th Century, central Europe endured the 30 Years War, leading to the death of up to one-third of the population of Germany.  That war was driven by doctrinal differences between Catholics, Lutherans, and the Reformed. 

When the war was over, a movement arose called Pietism.  Many saw it as a Second Reformation.  Pietism emphasized many things that have become part of our common heritage as Christians.  The man considered the founder of Pietism, Philip Jacob Spener, made six proposals to improve the life of the Church.  One of them was this:

We must beware how we conduct ourselves in religious controversies.

Being at war with one another, either literally or verbally, does little to spread the Gospel.  Non-believers are turned away from the Church when they see how divided we are.  In particular, when they perceive that Christians are lacking in love for one another, they wonder about the truth of the Gospel.  After all, didn’t Jesus teach that the greatest commandment was to love God and one another?

That is all true, but it’s not so easy to dismiss doctrine.  In the Lutheran Church of the 17^th Century there was another movement that emphasized doctrine.  It is known today as Lutheran Orthodoxy.  They spent a great amount of time disputing with Catholics and the Reformed over proper theology.  At its best, Orthodoxy was not obsessed with doctrine for its own sake, as if one is saved by having the right answers to abstract theological questions.  Rather, Orthodoxy understood that the purpose of doctrine is to preserve the pure preaching of God’s Word and the proper administration of the Sacraments. 

Why does this matter?  Because it is through the Word and the Sacraments that God gives us forgiveness, life and salvation.  For instance, there is the question, “Is the Bible the Word of God?”  You might be surprised to hear that question.  Both the Pietists and the Orthodox held the Bible in high regard.  In fact, Jacob Spener’s complaint was that there wasn’t enough Bible reading in the Church, particularly among the laity.  Meanwhile, Catholics, the Reformed, and Lutherans all agreed that the Bible was the Word of God.  They only disagreed on how it should be interpreted.

That is not the case today.  In the past year, I have heard an ELCA pastor declare that the Bible is not the Word of God.  Instead, he said that Jesus is the only Word of God.  The Bible, he said, is a Word about God, but it is not the Word of God.  The reason he did this is that he finds parts of the Bible to be offensive, outmoded, and oppressive. Rather than turning to the Bible on questions of faith and life, he would prefer that we ask ourselves what we think the “real Jesus” would do.  In doing this, he drives a wedge between the Jesus of the Bible and the Jesus that we supposedly “know in our hearts.”

What does Lutheran doctrine teach?  It certainly does teach that Jesus is the Incarnate Word of God.  However, it also teaches that the Bible is the inspired Word of God.  It is in and through the Written Word that we encounter the Incarnate Word.  In fact, Lutheran doctrine teaches that the Word of God comes to us in three forms:  1) the Incarnate Word, 2) the Written Word, and finally 3) the Preached and Sacramental Word. 

This is where doctrine becomes practical, and not only practical, but a matter of life and death.  Think of the question of the forgiveness of sins.  If your sins are forgiven, you have life and salvation.  If your sins are not forgiven, you will be condemned eternally.  So, how do you know your sins are forgiven?   How can you be sure?  The answer that Lutheran doctrine gives is that you will know for sure when a Preacher announces to you, “Your sins are forgiven.”  You will also know for sure when you are Baptized and when you receive the Body and Blood of Christ in Holy Communion. 

“But wait a second,” you might say, “how do I know that Preaching, Baptism and Communion do these things?”  The answer is very important.  You know because it says so in the Bible.  Can a human preacher really announce the forgiveness of my sins?  Yes! Go read John 20: 22-23 and Matthew 16:18.   Does Baptism really save me?  Yes!  Go read Mark 16:16 and 1 Peter 3:21.  Do I really receive forgiveness, life and salvation in Holy Communion?  Yes!  Go read Matthew 26:27-28. 

It all depends on what we believe about the Bible.  If it is God’s Word, then we can be comforted with the knowledge that our sins are forgiven for Jesus’ sake.  If it is only a human word, we are left to figure it out for ourselves.  Lutheran doctrine tells you that you can be confident that the Bible is GOD’S WORD.  As the beloved children’s songs says:

Jesus loves me, this I know, for the BIBLE tells me so.

May God give all of us the childlike faith to believe those simple words.

In Christ,

Pastor David Charlton

Fall 2017 LCORE Newsletter