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. Both sides in this fight understood that something essential to Christianity was at stake. The church must always struggle with errors, but this controversy involved an article of the faith that is fundamental to faith itself.

The Bible identifies justification as a hill to die on. The Apostle Paul frequently admonishes and instructs Christians not to be quarrelsome, divisive, or combative. He extols 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)

Here the apostle uses the strongest speech to condemn perversion of the gospel. He insists there is only one gospel, and the gospel he preaches in his letter to the Galatians is the gospel of justification by faith alone. The Judaizers corrupted the gospel by requiring works in addition to belief as a necessary for justification. Twice Paul pronounces an apostolic 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.”

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 Augustian 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 justice. 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 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 (transubstantiation). 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, at least initially reluctant, role as Reformer. In our complex era it may almost seem simplistic, but 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.

The Fight for Sola Fide

Luther, 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 answer is obvious, because not one of us could possibly stand before God because none of us is righteous.

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 monks’ life and ignited the whole Protest. It was the realization that God’s righteousness could become the sinner’s righteousness and that transaction could happen through the instrument 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 brought 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 of 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.

Justification describes what God declares about the believer, not what He does to change the believer. In biblical terms, justification is a divine verdict of “not guilty, fully righteous” on someone who was actually guilty.

Luther’s famous phrase was: “At the same time, just and sinner.” Luther was not affirming a contradiction. The two assertions, just and sinner, refer to the same person at the same time, but not in the same relationship. The person considered in himself remains a sinner, yet at the same time by virtue of the imputation of Christ’s righteousness, the person is considered just in the sight of God.

Obviously, if God were to declare a person just or righteous when that person possesses no righteousness whatsoever, then God would be implicated in the fraud. Rome is correct on insisting that the justified person must possess righteousness. The question is, How does the sinner acquire the necessary righteousness? This is the heart of the Reformation controversy.

Rome declared (and still declares) that faith is necessary for justification. Orthodox Catholicism calls faith the foundation and the root of justification. However, a person’s works must be added to faith for justification to occur. Likewise, the righteousness of Christ is necessary for justification. This righteousness must be infused into the soul by going through certain ceremonies. The sinner must cooperate with and assent to this infused righteousness, so that real righteousness becomes inherent in the person before he can be justified.

Rome completely missed passages like Romans 3:21-26 that clearly explain that righteousness is not in us or worked out by us, it is earned for us. It is the legal application of Christ’s righteousness to us by which we are declared just. This is no legal fiction because real righteousness is really imputed. There is nothing fictional about the righteousness of Christ. The justified are righteous, but it is someone else’s righteousness.

What is missing from the Roman Catholic formula for justification by faith is the crucial word “alone.” It is not an exaggeration to say that the eye of the Reformation tornado was this one little word (sola). The Reformers, and Luther in particular, insisted that justification is by grace alone, by faith alone, through Christ alone.

This is a subtle point to most of us. I imagine most of us would just let this slide.

It makes all the difference in the world whether the ground of my justification rests within me or is accomplished for me. Either Christ fulfilled the law for me and gained the merit necessary for my salvation completely, or I must add some. This is the ground not only of my justification, but also of my assurance of salvation. If I must wait until I cooperate with the righteousness of Christ infused within me, to the degree that I become inherently righteous, I can never really have assurance of salvation.

All of this is why the sola in sola fide is so necessary. Luther said,

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 knot-heads 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)

For Luther, justification was the ultimate issue both for individual persons as well as for the corporate church:

This doctrine is the head and the cornerstone. It alone begets, nourishes, builds, preserves, and defends the church of God;’ and without it the church of God cannot exist for one hour.

The Criticism of Catholicism

You can imagine that teaching justification by faith alone would have major consequences, especially since the Church had been 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 business.

The Church’s teaching was that after a person had received the grace of Christ at their baptism (making baptism itself an important thing), 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. The pope made special indulgences available for purchase to those supported this work with their money. These particular indulgences were for people already in purgatory (working off their impurities) because they lacked sufficient merit to enter heaven. 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.

It was the selling of indulgences that provoked Luther’s Ninety-Five Thesis, nailed to the Wittenberg church door, October 31, 1517.

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 our without the spirit of penitence.

Luther, tongue in cheek, expressed remorse that his parents were still alive, preventing him from insuring their entrance into heaven by purchasing indulgences for them.

Luther caused quite an uproar. He began to attract attention. He 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 16 April, 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 a decision was reached as to Luther’s fate he disappeared on his return to Wittenberg. But this was orchestrated by Fredrick the Wise - who took him to the Wartburg Castle where he stayed for about a year while the immediate danger to his life died down.