Every generation throughout church history has seen doctrinal struggles and debates. But perhaps no doctrinal dispute has ever been contested more fiercely or with such far-reaching, long-term consequences as the ultimate issue, the issue of justification.

The controversy over the doctrine of justification in the sixteen century focused on the nature of the gospel and, therefore, the essence of Christianity itself. The church must always struggle with errors, but this controversy involved an article of the faith that is fundamental to faith itself.

The Bible itself makes justification a hill to die on. The Apostle Paul frequently admonished and instructed Christians not to be quarrelsome, divisive, or combative. He extoled the virtues of patience, love, and tolerance. Yet when it came to a battle over the gospel itself, this same apostle was utterly inflexible. He considered some things intolerable, and one is the distortion of the gospel. He wrote to the church in Galatia:

I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting him who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel—not that there is another one, but there are some who trouble you and want to distort the gospel of Christ. But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed. As we have said before, so now I say again: If anyone is preaching to you a gospel contrary to the one you received, let him be accursed. For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ. (Galatians 1:6-10)

Paul used the strongest speech to condemn perversion of the gospel. He insisted there is only one gospel. And the gospel he preached in his letter to the Galatians is the gospel of justification by faith alone. The Judaizers were corrupting the gospel by requiring works in addition to belief as a necessary for justification. Twice Paul pronounced a curse on this distortion, using the Greek word from which we get the English word anathema.

But at the Roman Catholic Council of Trent in the sixteenth century, Rome condemned the Reformed doctrine of justification by faith alone and declared it anathema. They did this because they were convinced that the Reformed doctrine was “another gospel,” a distortion of the biblical gospel.

This was undoubtedly the most explosive issue of the 16th century, and the best place to start is probably with the 16th century’s most dynamic character.

A Monk Named Martin

Luther was born November 10, 1483, in Eisleben, Germany, to a copper miner. His father wanted something better for him; he wanted Martin to become a lawyer. In 1505, on July 2 on his way home from law school, he was caught in a thunderstorm and was hurled to the ground by lightening. He cried out, “Help me, St. Anne; I will become a monk.” St. Anne was the patron saint of miners.

Fifteen days later, to his father’s great displeasure, Martin kept his vow. On July 17, 1505, he knocked at the gate of the local Augustinian Hermits and asked to be accepted. On easter, April 3, 1507, he was ordained as a priest.

If you’ve heard anything about Luther, you’ve probably heard that he was a bit pathological, that is, mentally disturbed. Most of his mental uneasiness grew out of his legally oriented mind which could not escape the relentless necessity for punishment of wrongdoing. Of all the things he knew, he knew that the holiness of God demanded punishment for sin. He also knew he was a sinner. That was bad news.

This is why he became a monk. He thought that he could become righteous.

I was a good monk, and I kept the rule of my order so strictly that I may say that if ever a monk got to heaven by his monkery it was I.

Yet it still didn’t work.

This led to one of the most famous incidents in church history when Luther attempted to officiate his first mass. Schooled in proper Roman Catholic orthodoxy, Brother Luther sincerely believed that he was about to perform a miracle by turning the bread and wine into the actual, physical body of Christ. When he came to a particular point in the service he froze. He later recounted the experience:

I was utterly stupified and terror stricken, “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. The angels surround Him. At His nod the earth trembles. And shall I, a miserable little pygmy, say ‘I want this, I ask for that’? For I am dust and ashes and full of sin and I am speaking to the living, eternal and true God.

It was this deep consciousness of the holiness of God that compelled Luther into his role as Reformer. To his mind the problem was clear: God is holy. Man is sinful. God must, and will, punish sin. Luther was sinful. Luther must be punished. This caused him fits.

His spiritual father, Staupitz, arranged for him to take over a teaching role at the University of Wittenberg. So he was transferred from Erfurt to the 2,500 person town to be a Doctor of Theology.

Luther himself, and all Reformers that followed, focused on the question, How is a person justified? On what basis or grounds does God ever declare anyone just? As the Psalmist put it, “If you, LORD, should mark iniquities…who could stand?” (Psalm 130:3). The question is rhetorical, because not one of us could possibly stand before God because none of us is righteous.

So how does God come to accept a person? Must we first become inherently just before God will make such a declaration? Or does he declare us just/righteous before we are in ourselves actually just? God’s justice demands that we be righteous, so how can we be?

Luther himself could not get past this point of God’s justice:

If I could believe that God was not angry with me, I would stand on my head for joy.

One simple biblical truth changed that monk’s life and ignited the whole Protest. It was the realization that God’s righteousness could become the sinner’s righteousness and that that transaction happens through the means of faith alone.

Martin Luther learned this truth from a verse which had previously stumbled over, Romans 1:17.

For in it (the gospel) the righteousness of God is revealed from faith to faith, as it is written, “The righteous shall live by faith.”

Luther had always seen “the righteousness of God” (or “the justice of God”) as an attribute of the sovereign Lord by which He judged sinners, not as an attribute sinners could possess. He described the breakthrough, his “tower experience,” and how his unrelenting study of the historical-grammatical context of that passage was used by the Spirit to bring light to the dark ages:

I greatly longed to understand Paul’s Epistle to the Romans and nothing stood in the way but that one expression, “the justice of God,” because I took it to mean that justice whereby God is just and deals justly in punishing the unjust. My situation was that, although an impeccable monk, I stood before God as a sinner troubled in conscience, and I had no confidence that my merit would assuage him. Therefore I did not love a just and angry God, but rather hated and murmured against him. Yet I clung to the dear Paul and had a great yearning to know what he meant.

Night and day I pondered until I saw the connection between the justice of God and the statement that “the just shall live by his faith.” Then I grasped that the justice of God is that righteousness by which through grace and sheer mercy God justifies us through faith. Thereupon I felt myself to be reborn and to have gone through open doors into paradise. The whole of Scripture took on a new meaning, and whereas before the “justice of God” had filled me with hate, now it became to me inexpressibly sweet in greater love. This passage of Paul became to me a gate to heaven….

Both sides agreed that salvation or justification was impossible apart from grace or apart from Christ or apart from faith. But, Catholic teaching demanded something more, namely, that men must cooperate with grace and Christ and faith. The works that men do join forces (not entirely replace) with God and produce righteousness.

All of this is why the sola in sola fide is so necessary. He was teaching through Psalms and Romans and came to understand:

I also know that in Romans 3, the word “solum” is not present in either Greek or Latin text — the papists did not have to teach me that — it is fact! The letters s-o-l-a are not there. And these knotheads stare at them like cows at a new gate, while at the same time they do not recognize that it conveys the sense of the text — if the translation is to be clear and accurate, it belongs there. (Luther, An Open Letter on Translating)

But he was too busy at the time to fight much (quoted in Bainton):

In October, 1516, he wrote to a friend: I could use two secretaries.

I do almost nothing during the day but write letters. I am a conventual preacher, reader at meals, parochial preacher, director of studies, overseer of eleven monasteries, superintendent of the fish pond at Litzkau, referee of the squabble at Torgau, lecturer on Paul, collector of material for a commentary on the Psalms, and then, as I said, I am overwhelmed with letters. I rarely have full time for the canonical hours and for saying mass, not to mention my own temptations with the world, the flesh, and the Devil. You see how lazy I am.

The Criticism of Catholicism

The Roman Catholic Church was critical of this teaching. Justification by faith alone would have major consequences, especially if for anyone teaching that people needed to give money, do penance, pay to see relics, etc., if they desired to cooperate with Christ to get the righteousness necessary for justification. Sin was good for religious business.

The Church’s teaching was that after a person had received the grace of Christ at their baptism (making baptism itself necessary for salvation), if they sinned after that, they could be restored to a state of grace (a state of justification) by following the steps of confessing sin to a priest, making an act of contrition, receiving priestly forgiveness, and then performing what were called “works of satisfaction.”

It was these “works of satisfaction” that initiated much of the controversy in the sixteenth century. The works of satisfaction earned merit, even though the church affirmed it was technically merit rooted in grace. One work of satisfaction a penitent person could perform was to give money to the church and purchase an “indulgence.”

For example, in the 16th century Rome embarked on a huge building project involving St. Peter’s Basilica. Pope Leo X made special indulgences available for purchase to those supported this work with their money. These particular indulgences were for people already in purgatory where they were working off the temporal consequences of their sin. The pope was granted the authority (through apostolic succession) to draw on the “treasury of merit” and apply it to the needs of those in purgatory. This “treasury of merit” was in heaven and was filled by those who had already died whose merit was above and beyond the merit required to enter. So an indulgence could be purchased and the merit applied to the account of a departed loved one. “They were the bingo of the sixteenth century” (Bainton).

One man in particular, Johann Tetzel, scandalized Luther by his crass method (unauthorized by Rome) of peddling indulgences. Tetzel marketed indulgences with the ditty, “Every time a coin in the coffer rings, a soul from purgatory springs.” He gave peasants the impression that they could purchase salvation for departed friends and relatives simply by giving alms, with or without the spirit of penitence.

It was the selling of indulgences that provoked Luther’s Ninety-Five Thesis which he nailed to the Castle Church doors on October 31, 1517. However,

Luther took no steps to spread his theses among the people. He was merely inviting scholars to dispute and dignitaries to define, but others surreptitiously translated the theses into German and gave them to the press. In short order they became the talk of Germany. (Benton)

Luther caused quite an uproar. He began to attract attention and found himself with some powerful enemies. Though he was gaining popularity among many lay people who were reading his German pamphlets, the Church’s officials rightly saw his protest as a threat.

Newly elected Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V summoned Luther to Worms in 1521 where he was demanded to renounce or reaffirm his views. When he appeared before the assembly on April 16, Johann Eck acted as spokesman for the Emperor. He presented Luther with a table filled with his own books. Eck asked Luther if the books were his and if he still believed what these works taught. Luther requested time to think about his answer.

On the next day, Eck countered that Luther had no right to teach contrary to the Church’s tradition and interpretation, and asked again, would Luther reject his books or no? Luther replied:

Since your Majesty and your Lordships ask for a plain answer, I will give you one without horns or teeth. Unless I am convicted by Scripture or by right reason (for I trust neither in popes nor in councils, since they have often erred and contradicted themselves) - unless I am thus convinced, I am bound by the texts of the Bible, my conscience is captive to the Word of God, I neither can nor will recant anything, since it is neither right nor safe to act against conscience. Here I stand. I can do no other. God help me. Amen.

Before we move on to the final point, let me add just a few more biographical things about Luther.

Luther was not only the father of the Reformation, he was also the character of the Reformation. We don’t have enough time to talk about how he loved talking theology over beer and pretzels (brewed by his wife). We haven’t talked about how he would pass gas at the devil. We haven’t talked about his book on The Bondage of the Will, written in response to Erasmus, filled with references calling Erasmus’ book a “girl.”

On Sundays in Wittenberg there was the 5AM worship with a sermon on an Epistle. At 10AM there was a sermon on a Gospel, and then an afternoon message on the Old Testament. Monday and Tuesday lectures were on the catechism. Wednesdays on Matthew; Thursdays and Fridays on the Apostolic letters; and Saturday on John.

Between 1510 and 1546 Luther preached approximately 3000 sermons. For example, he preached 117 sermons in Wittenberg in 1522 and 137 the next year. His average was one sermon every two and a half days.

He was a family man; at least from age forty-one to his death at sixty-two. Katie von Bora, a converted nun, bore him six children. As one of his biographers wrote, “Katie cleaned house.” She did so in more ways than one.

His translation of the Bible helped to develop a standard version of the German language and added several principles to the art of translation. His hymns sparked the development of congregational singing in Christianity.

One more thing about Luther’s temperament. Luther said of himself:

I own that I am more vehement than I ought to be; but I have to do with men who blaspheme evangelical truth; with human wolves; with those who condemn me unheard, without admonishing, without instructing me; and who utter the most atrocious slanders against myself not only, but the Word of God…A mind conscious of truth cannot always endure the obstinate and willfully blind enemies of truth. I see that all persons demand of me moderation, and especially those of my adversaries, who least exhibit it. If I am too [hot], I am at least open and frank; in which respect I excel those who always smile, but murder.

The Problem in Protestantism

One of the problems we see today is an emasculating (take away what makes it faith; deprive of strength or vigor) faith, cutting away at the content and removing any expectation for fruits of faith. A few years ago this was called “cheap faith.”

Of course, when Luther declared that justification is by faith alone, serious questions arose about the nature of saving, living, true faith. The one Scriptural argument Rome had appealed to James 2 to repudiate the doctrine of sola fide.

Sola fide has never meant that a person could be, as Luther said, “justified by a barren, dead faith that is not Spirit-borne nor accompanied by all the rest of the work of God in His redeemed people.” The “alone” has always referred to the denial of any additions to faith that speak to merit, but it has never meant works don’t flow from faith.

Roman view: faith + works = justification
Protestant view: faith = justification + works

There is another problem that we sola-loving Reformed Christians need to guard against, and that is acting as if a man who confesses “justification by faith alone” is a better Christian.

It is wickedly ironic that we would use sola fide as a measuring stick of spirituality and as a defense for dualism. Justification by faith alone is itself the doctrinal battering ram against the dualism of secular and sacred work. If sola fide is true then there is no such thing as sacred work, sacred in the sense of earning special favor from God.

God does not justify any man according to the biblical doctrines he holds, but by faith alone. God does not justify any man according to his “spiritual” works, and certainly not according to his “religious” vocation. Being “Reformed” doesn’t justify us. Avoiding earthly relationships like marriage or earthly responsibilities like making profit doesn’t justify us. Being a pastor or missionary or orphan worker doesn’t justify us. Those are attempts at modern monasticism, but they cannot make us better believers. We cannot save our souls by anything we do.

The gospel frees us from defining our righteousness by depth of quiet time, length of praying, frequency of fasting, percentage of money given as offering, consistency of church attendance, let alone pursuing a particular vocation. We are saved by faith alone. Sola fide doesn’t mean that faith is the only important thing about a man, it actually allows for every thing to have meaning, just not in a saving way.

Conclusion

Luther had problems. He condemned the Anabaptists to death. He counseled a prince to lie. He spoke too harshly against the Jews. But he is not condemned for any of these things, he is justified by Christ.

We must fight for sola fide today.

• If justification is not by faith alone, then justification is not possible because no man lives perfectly.
• If there is no justification by faith alone, then God is dishonored. If men are able to accomplish even 1% of their salvation then Christ does not get all the glory, the cross is robbed of its full significance, and Scripture is wrong to attribute all things (including salvation) as from Him and through Him and to Him.
• If justification is by faith alone, then we must not define our righteousness before God by external standards.

Here is Luther’s hymn, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” in a different translation than most of us know.

A mighty bulwark is our God
A doughty ward and weapon.
He helps us clear from every rod
By which we now are smitten.
Still our ancient foe
Girds him to strike a blow.
Might and guile his gear.
His armor striketh fear.
On earth is not his equal.

By our own strength is nothing won.
We court at once disaster.
There fights for us the Champion
Whom God has named our Master.
Would you know his name?
Jesus Christ the same
Lord Sabaoth is he.
No other God can be.
The field is his to hold it.

And though the fiends on every hand
Were threatening to devour us,
We would not waver from our stand.
They cannot overpower us.
This world’s prince may rave.
However he behave,
He can do no ill.
God’s truth abideth still.
One little word shall fell him.

That word they never can dismay.
However much they batter,
For God himself is in the fray
And nothing else can matter.
Then let them take our life,
Goods, honor, children, wife.
We will let all go.
They shall not conquer so,
For God will win the battle.