The following Sunday School lesson was delivered earlier this month as a 2-part series on the grace of God. Part one introduced us to the topic and outlined the importance of correctly understanding justification by grace alone.

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There was a time when delivering a presentation about justification and grace, one used to hear a story that went something like this: There was a certain university student traveling along the road, returning to his family during a sultry summer day in 1505. Suddenly, the sky became overcast; there was a shower, and then a tumultuous storm. The university student was knocked to the ground by a burst of lightening, and, fearing for his life cried out in terror, "St. Anne, help me! I will become a monk." St. Anne was the patron saint of miners, that being the chosen profession of his father.

Needless to say, the storm eventually passed and the twenty-one year old student survived the moment to fulfill the vow he made. The student resolved to keep his promise to become a monk, because it was in that moment in that treacherous storm that the single flash awakened this young man to the realization that there was a vengeful God who would pour out His wrath upon wicked creatures. So, like most other people living in the Middle Ages, this man knew what he ought to do—he must appease God’s wrath, and the best way to accomplish this was for him to keep his vow to St. Anne and join a monastery. He chose one of the strictest orders, the reformed congregation of the Augustinians, much to the chagrin of his father who wanted him to pursue a different occupation, preferably law, so that he would be taken care of later in life.

This young man took two weeks to get his affairs in order, said farewell to his family and friends, and presented himself at the monastery gates. There, he exhibited himself as a novice, or beginner, in which he was required to prostrate himself before the prior who asked him what he sought. To which came the reply, "God’s grace and thy mercy." Three more questions were raised in which the candidate was asked if he was married, if he was a bondservant, or if he was afflicted with any disease. After receiving satisfactory answers, the prior described life in the Augustinian community in which each were expected to adhere to a strict set of rules which included, begging, rigors of daily work, a scant diet, rough clothing, mortifying the flesh, and set prayers seven times each day, just to name a few.

For some time, this novice kept the rules as ordered. He performed all required tasks as necessary yet there was still something that afflicted his mind. Despite all the human efforts to appease the conscience through good works, and despite all the attempts to find peace with an angry God, this young monk remained troubled. He remained in terror of the holy.

This monk might have very well continued along the path he was pursuing if he had not been overtaken by another storm. This time however, it was a storm of a different nature—this storm was a spiritual thunderstorm that would not pass as quickly as the first one he encountered along the road in July 1505. The occasion was his first mass, which was deliberately postponed until a day was found to be suitable so his family and friends could attend.

The day soon arrived for this young priest to recite the introductory portion of the mass. This being the first time, coupled with the fact he has not seen his father for quite some time, inevitably added to his nervousness. He began with the introductory, "We offer unto thee, the living, the true, the eternal God." It was at these words, at the thought that he was standing there at Calvary, offering the one true sacrifice that struck terror in his heart and paralyzed him with fright. Unable to continue, much to his embarrassment and the humiliation of his family, he later recalled that at those words, the words in which he transubstantiated the bread and wine into the actual body and blood of Christ, he thought:

"I was utterly stupefied and terror-stricken. I thought to myself, ‘With what tongue shall I address such Majesty, seeing that all men ought to tremble in the presence of even an earthly prince? Who am I, that I should lift up mine eyes or raise my hands to the divine Majesty?...I am dust and ashes full of sin and I am speaking to the living, eternal and the true God."

The terror of a holy God smote him with a fear like none other. His tremors were augmented by the realization that he was "dust and ashes and full of sin". He was indeed a tortured soul and resolved to find peace through a more rigorous devotion to God. So, he starved him for days one end, flagellated his body until he bled, refused blankets and slept on the stone floor in the winter months, and even spent six hours on one occasion in a confessional booth. One could only imagine how much trouble an individual could get into in a monastery where one would need six hours to confess, but this only serves to illustrate that no amount of sorrowful words could placate his tortured soul. Despite all of his human efforts, however, there was no peace. His soul was restless because he still feared a wrathful God—he still did not know if he was an enemy of God or not.

By now I am quite certain you have guessed who the person is of which I speak. If you said, "Martin Luther," you would be correct. The pioneer of the sixteenth century Protestant Reformation was a man who, by all accounts, would have earned salvation—if ever there was such a thing. Indeed, he could have said with the apostle Paul that he too had confidence in his flesh in that he had done all that was necessary, from a human standpoint, to be in a righteous standing before God. Yet, Scripture says that "we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags, (Isa 64:6, KJV). Even what you and I think should be pleasing to God, they are, in reality, no better than "filthy rags". Luther sought peace through the commission of his own works and failed to gain the very thing for which he so desperately sought. But, that peace would never come until he one day surrendered to the biblical concept of justification by faith alone as he was reading through Paul’s epistle to the Romans. Luther never reached that condition where he knew he was no longer an enemy of God until he laid all he had at the cross and repudiated all earthly attempts to satisfy God’s wrath.

to be continued...