Chapter 11 of 27

Certainty in the Reformation

Certainty in the Reformation

principle—righteousness by works—it is therefore worthless to God.

For no matter how much truth that judgment may contain, before we utter it we must remind ourselves that the Catholic righteousness by good works is vastly preferable to a protestant righteousness by good doctrine. At least righteousness by good works benefits one's neighbor, whereas righteousness by good doctrine only produces lovelessness and pride. Furthermore, we must not blind ourselves to the tremendous faith, genuine repentance, complete surrender and the fervent love for God and neighbor evident in the lives and work of many Catholic Christians. The Christian life is so rich that it develops to its full glory not just in a single form or within the walls of one church.

Nevertheless, Catholic piety, even in its best form, is different in character from that of protestantism. It always remains unfree, uneman-cipated, formal, legalistic. Complete inner certainty of faith is lacking. It always leaves room for the question: Have I done enough, and what else should I do? Rome deliberately keeps the souls of believers in a restless, so-called healthy tension. Spiritual life fluctuates between false assurance and painful uncertainty.

Catholicism does not understand the word of Holy Scripture that the Spirit testifies with our spirit that we are children of God and that all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God.

Certainty in the Reformation The Reformation, however, brought about many changes. This powerful movement was born out of a deeply felt need for the assurance of salvation. In vain, Martin Luther (1483-1546) sought it in good works. He found assurance in God's free grace, in the sinner's justification by faith alone. When he had discovered this treasure, Luther stood up against the entire Christendom of his time with heroic boldness. His faith was so firmly anchored and his hope

so sure that with them he dared stand alone before all his opponents.

God was for him; who could be against him? Certainty was a characteristic not only of Luther's faith but also of the faith of all the Reformers.

This is not to say they never experienced temptations and struggles; it is wrong to suppose they always rose above all doubt. They all passed through periods of fearful anxiety and deep discouragement.

Notwithstanding his great faith, Luther often had terrible struggles with the devil and with reason. Frequently he had doubts about the Tightness and blessedness of his reforming labors. Philipp

Melanchthon (1497-1560), too, was often oppressed in spirit. John Calvin (1509-1564) testifies, no doubt from his own experience, that a believer can harbor many doubts and cares. But the difference between the Reformers and their later disciples was that they did not foster or feed such a condition. They saw no good in it and were not content to remain in doubt. They struggled to come out of doubt and they begged to be freed from it. The Reformers rose above it by the power of faith. Not doubt and fear, but steadfastness and certainty was the normal condition of their spiritual lives.

Their courage was rooted in humility, their self-assurance in trust in God, their freedom and independence in childlike dependence on His grace alone. Their emotions did not rule their reason, while reason and will did not deny the rights of their emotions. Their hands were never idle. Head, heart and hands worked together in exceptional harmony. They were not pietists with only an eye and heart for the religious life. They were not mystics who retreated into isolation and left the world to its fate. They were not intellectualists and moralists who failed to do justice to the richness of emotional life. Despite differences in inclination and character, the Reformers were all of a deeply religious nature. Nevertheless, or perhaps precisely for this reason, they kept their eyes open to the needs of family, societal, economic and political life. All unnatural, unhealthy pietism was foreign to them. Their religious lives were sound at heart

—clear and plain, yet passionate and deep.

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