11/1/53

Scripture: II Corinthians 3: 7-18

Text: II Corinthians 17; “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

Some churches invariably include in the order of worship the repeating together by the entire congregation of one of the great creeds of the Christian Church. Often it is “The Apostles’ Creed;” sometimes it is the “Nicene Creed.” But the people of those congregations remind themselves of those Christian attitudes which seem basic to them, when they regularly recite the creed.

Other churches use in the order of worship a statement called an “Affirmation of Faith,” or a “Statement of Faith” like the one on the inside back cover of our hymnal. This affirmation may seem somewhat like the creed, except that it is more flexible, and some affirmations may be varied in form from time to time. But it is one way of expressing positively what the worshipping Christians of that particular household of faith believe concerning their relationship to God and to each other. There is some merit in that practice. Protestant Christianity is sometimes allowed to appear a negative expression. It is not. It is a very positive faith and must be so understood, particularly by those who join a Protestant church.

Here and there, you may get into discussion with one who holds membership in this church, or in a church of some other Protestant body, who speaks with some enthusiasm about what he does not believe. He may be (1) particularly critical of the statements of faith of some other church, or (2) he may be caustic about the evidence, or lack of evidence, of Christianity that he thinks he observes in some particular church member he knows. (3) Or he is excited and angry about a practice which is accepted by some others and which he avers to be wrong. But if his faith goes no farther than that, he is not very significantly Christian; and he certainly is not Protestant in the basic meaning of the name. He is a Protestant if he is meaningfully, deeply concerned with his own faith and with our Protestant practices.

Historically speaking, the Protestant trend in Christianity began with the Reformation movement. The Reformation was a long time coming. We usually think of it as beginning with Martin Luther, and pin-point the date as October 31, 1517. Jan Huss was burned as a heretic more than a century earlier than that in 1415. The Moravian Church traces its spiritual history to Huss and an organization, the Bohemian Purific, in 1457, nearly 500 years ago. That was a full sixty years before Luther’s theses. There were people, through many decades of soul-searching and struggle, who believed that the faith of Jesus Christ was basically finer, more potent and transforming, than the general belief taught and practiced by most members of the organized church of their time.

They proclaimed their beliefs; they gathered together in groups of like-minded seekers after truth. Many of them were persecuted, and not a few were martyred. They were not just rebels. They testified to a transforming faith; and it was this positive belief, put into the action of their lives, that was deemed so disturbing to established ecclesiastical authority that it could not be tolerated. And so the Reformation movement was a profoundly disturbing movement because of its positive implications.

One reason that the Reformation was able to take hold successfully in Germany was that there was so much of positive conviction growing there already, that Martin Luther’s ideas could take root.

The children of our community and of course their elders, think of October 31st as Hallowe’en. And who could escape that reminder, whether he be absent-minded, or perchance a historian? But it was on October 31st, 1517, that a much more momentous event occurred. For on that date an Augustinian monk named Martin Luther fastened a paper on the door of the church in Wittenberg in Germany. A church door was then often used as a kind of bulletin board. And, particularly, notices that could be discussed and debated might be posted there. Luther’s action was one way of saying, “Here is something I have thought about a great deal. I am ready to argue about these 95 propositions or theses. I believe what I have stated here so strongly that I will debate with anyone who wants to talk about them.” These ideas had been growing in the mind of Luther for months as he went about his preaching and teaching, his study and his praying in the monastery.

Of course one thing that stimulated his conviction was the fact that Joseph Tetzel, a representative of the bishop of Rome (the Pope) had gone to great extremes in the sale of indulgences. Tetzel represented to the faithful that there was a sort of reserve, or pool, of virtue stored up by the goodness of saints. For a price in money, one could draw on that pool for forgiveness of his own sins, so that one might escape the sooner from purgatory after death. To be sure this “indulgence” or written assurance that Tetzel offered cost money. But some folks didn’t mind that, if they could feel sure they would not suffer long in eternity for their sins. Some appeared even to feel that it was not otherwise necessary to feel sorry for, or to repent of, their sins, if they had the assurance of one of those indulgences for which they paid.

Martin Luther belonged to the same church. But he was convinced that the only way to make up for one’s wrongdoing is to repent of it and seek the forgiveness of God. One is justified by the faith he holds and practices rather than by the assurance of some other person that he will somehow “fix it up” with God. Luther had no intention of leaving the church in which he was trained. He was intent on witnessing what he believed should be its true faith.

In 1529, some of the princes of Germany -- enough to be a powerful group in the life of that nation -- drew up a statement of objection to some of the compulsions of the church. They called their statement a “protest.” And the name stuck to them like a nickname. At this meeting, the Diet of Speyer in 1529, 12 stormy years after Luther’s famous theses, the reforming German princes and free cities said in their formal statement:

“We must protest in matters which concern God’s honor and the salvation and eternal life of our souls; everyone must stand and give account before God of himself, and no one can excuse himself by the action or decision of another, whether less or more.”

That was a positive statement of belief on a controversial issue. It was a stand on their right to have propagated the evangelical gospel. The word they used in their statement, “protest,” means dissent only in a secondary sense. The Latin word “protestari” means “to profess, bear witness, declare openly.” The plays of William Shakespeare, and Samuel Johnson’s dictionary, use the word “protest” in its proper historical and etymological sense.

The genius of proper Protestant Christianity lies not in negative dissent, but in positive affirmation of the truth of the Christian Gospel as set forth in the New Testament. The Protestant Reformation of the 16th century was a movement to recover the original New Testament gospel of justification by God’s grace through faith in Jesus Christ. Thoughtful Protestant Christians have the opportunity to defend and reaffirm this heritage.

We ought constantly to affirm that the gospel of faith in Christ is relevant not only to our thoughts at Sunday worship, or during private prayer, but to all of our living. There is nothing exclusively secular, nothing that should not be touched, and influenced and shaped by the basic religious faith that a Christian holds.

Now Protestants are accustomed to the assertion that the freedoms we cherish in this nation have been mightily nurtured by the faith which we hold. We cherish freedom to think, and speak, and assemble without fear of reprisal from any external authority, be it civil or ecclesiastical. And to a very significant degree it is true that our Protestant expression of faith, and our cherished liberties, go in parallel direction.

However, our faith concerning freedom needs to go much deeper than this kind of forbearance. As Christians, we go to the New Testament for the light of understanding. In a part of Paul’s letter to the people of Corinth, which was read as our Scripture passage this morning, there appears this statement, at the 17th verse of II Corinthians 3: “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” The word Lord refers to Jesus -- not the Jesus of earthly appearance so much as Jesus the Christ, the focus of spiritual power.

In general the fruits of the spirit of Christ in a Christian are moral and spiritual. But they grow from the rooting of love, set in the heart, not from mere obedience to commands. The restraint of commands, both positive and negative, is replaced by the constraint of love in Christ, which becomes voluntary willingness.

It is important to understand Paul’s idea of liberty. We easily fall into the piteously insufficient view that liberty means freedom from restraint or compulsion. And so one may, if he wishes, say, write, or think anything he thinks he can get away with. He is not compelled, for instance, either by doctrine or authority, to go to church on Sunday. So he does if he feels like it. If he prefers, he goes hunting instead, or sleeps through the morning, or takes a trip, or does whatever else may strike his fancy -- because he knows of no penalty attached, or any other compulsion to make him go to church. He feels free to go or not to go to public worship.

But the supposed freedom from all external restraints creates a problem. How shall we order our lives when we are free to do as we like? Huxley said “a man’s worst difficulties begin when he is able to do as he likes.” And Walter Lipmann describes those who have thrown off moral restraints, but do not know what to do with the freedom they have found, in the comparison: “These are prisoners,” he says, “who have been released --- The prison door is wide open. They stagger out into trackless space under blinding sun. They find it nerve-wracking.”

Paul’s solution to the problem of this negative kind of liberty is this: true liberty is not the freedom to do as we like; it is the power to do what we know we should. Through Christ, Paul is made free of the religious law of his time to become a son of God!

An artist finds freedom in his devotion to his art. He isn’t even an artist if he runs from it, or ignores, or neglects it.

We sometimes hear it asserted that such-and-such a church requires one to attend worship regularly, to give heavily, to obey the laws and leaders of that church. And too often one is tempted to say, “I’m glad I don’t belong to that church!” So what? Does any affirmative Christianity issue from such negative complacency? The virtue of proper Protestant Christian expression is in willing, faithful attention to the spirit of willing, voluntary effort. Of course you don’t have to give ten percent of your time to church work, and 500 or 600 dollars to church program and building. Your prayers are not prescribed as to form. But if you and I are truly Protestant Christians, we do witness, we do profess our belief and loyalty, not alone by a nod or a single assertion in a brief ritual, but by our willing service, our willing and joyful giving in worthy amounts of time and substance, our willing attention to the worship of God.

In another letter, to the people of Galatia, Paul said, “You were called to freedom, brethren; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love be servants of one another.” [Galatians 5: 13]. Unless we use our liberty for positive service, in the interest of love, we shall find ourselves in deeper bondage to our own unruly passions and desires.

“True liberty is not the freedom to do as we like; it is the power to do as we ought.” James Reid makes this telling distinction in the exposition of the Interpreter’s Bible. Let me repeat it slowly, for it comes close to the truly Christian concept of liberty: “True liberty is not the freedom to do as we like; it is the power to do as we ought.”

And the secret of liberty is found in the power of the indwelling Spirit. Through Christ we find both guidance to do what we ought to do and the power to do it. That power has sustained Christians through some stormy times, yet with calm and strong peace in their souls.

It is a good thing for Protestant Christians to use a Reformation Sunday to remind themselves of a great spiritual heritage. The Reformation came about through the faith-inspired devotion of imperfect people who desired righteousness and who wanted a church that would be spiritually like the New Testament company of Christ’s followers. Reformation Sunday has living significance if the remembrance of that heritage impels us to the devotion, the service, the giving, the sacrifice and the gladness which we can honestly and willingly lay before Him Whose we all are.

Let our faith be a willing, consecrated affirmation, to which our whole lives give constant testimony.

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Dates and places delivered:

Wisconsin Rapids, November 1, 1953.

(Parts) Wisconsin Rapids, October 29, 1967.