A Young Lutheran

I wrote this article for a blog that some friends of mine run, but I thought I’d put it on here as well. Here we are:

The Lutheran Church is obsessed with grace.

I’ve always known that, of course, from Sunday School and sermons and chats with my pastor, but I never really thought about it. It didn’t have any particular impact on my life.

Grace is the cornerstone of Lutheran theology. It’s also the bit most commonly left out by anyone else when discussing the contributions Lutheranism made to Protestant Christianity. I am blessed to have many, very theologically and historically literate Protestant friends from various denominations. They all know about Martin Luther, they know sole fide and sola scriptura. But they uniformly leave out the third part of the equation: sola gratias. Only grace. We are saved by grace alone.

This is part of what makes Lutheranism radical. And it is radical, or it should be, and many brilliant people are working very hard to make it radical again, instead of the dying denomination of wealthy white people from Northern Europe. God asks for our faith and our devotion to scripture. And we, whether we know it or not, ask for grace. Grace is the all-consuming acceptance, the love and forgiveness, the come-as-you-are, part-of-the-family gift that God has for all of humanity. You don’t have to do anything to earn it, in fact, you can’t earn it.

Luther’s confessors became concerned about him when he began confessing compulsively, constantly, convinced that no matter how hard he tried, he would miss out on a sin. Something would go unrepented for, unreprimanded. (To me, this speaks strongly of a man with a powerful anxiety disorder, not unlike my own, who was convinced that he was one step away from eternal damnation at all times.) He was consumed by guilt, it ate away at all his waking and sleeping hours.

Eventually, something had to give. And so this man became convinced that the only way he, that anyone, could be saved, was through grace. Human perfection is impossible. No matter how hard we try, there is always something we will miss, through misunderstanding or malice or microaggression, through bad days or busy schedules, you will make a mistake. You will hurt people, have hurt people. Some of them are people you will never meet, and some are just people whose names you will not remember. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try, of course it doesn’t. But it means that no matter how hard you try, you will never be perfect. And that is where grace comes in. Grace is forgiveness for things you have not yet done, for lies you didn’t realize you were telling, for systems of oppression you didn’t realize you help to propagate.

While discussing the most recent round of Black Lives Matter protests in the United States, my pastor and I wandered onto the topic of guilt. So many white people, including me, were (and still are) consumed with guilt for their positions as people of privilege whose actions knowingly or unknowingly have contributed to the oppression of black people in this country and around the world. Pastor Marissa told me something that I think will stick with me for the rest of my life. She said, “So many people want to know, want to be told, that they are good people. But Lutherans don’t believe in good people and bad people.” Then she smiled and said, “Well, we do, but we only believe in bad people.”

And if you truly embrace the truth that no matter how good you think you are, you are no better than anyone else, that you just as much in need of grace as the person next to you, and that both of you have a role to play in bringing about the kingdom of God, you can take your place fully as a member of the Church of Christ.

We are all dependent on God’s grace. God doesn’t keep a rap sheet. There is only the promise of grace. Grace not just for you, but for everyone in this world. Including people you don’t like. Including parts of yourself you don’t like. You can’t dress yourself up for God; an all-knowing deity is impossible to fool.

What you can do is throw yourself on God’s mercy, and ask for the grace that has already been granted to you.

And then you can get to work.

There are no slackers in the kingdom of God. At least, not if you want Christianity to stay alive as a religion that actually does the things it preaches about.

We pray for the brokenness in the world, we pray for guidance and change. But prayer isn’t enough. We have to take action to address brokenness in our communities and our nations. We have to ask our community leaders, our mayors and councils and organizers, what we can do as individuals and church communities to address inequality and injustice in our communities.

And tied to this is the need to accept the idea that success does not look like money. That it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of the needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom. That those of us with more have to give it to those of us with less, even though we “earned” that money and they didn’t. Because what they did earn was a fundamental right to safety, and housing, and food, and healthcare, and education, and until we can get a government to provide those things fully and equally to all Americans, we are going to have to fund them ourselves. (Think of it as paying taxes for programs the government hasn’t realized they need yet. If you think of the money as having never belonged to you in the first place, you are more likely to feel able to give it up.)

We all have to step up, to redefine our ideas of who is good and who is successful and who deserves what. We have to be willing to extend and receive grace. We will never be good enough. We will never do enough.

I found this meme today, and it made me smile, so I thought I'd share it. (I don't know who created it, unfortunately, or I'd credit them.) However, some of the comments below the post (it was on a Facebook meme page) were pretty negative, and it made me sad to see such anger over something designed to be funny and relatively inoffensive.

For me, the meme is funny because while there are obviously differences between the Missouri Synod, Wisconsin Synod, LCC (Lutheran Church in Canada, which also has some churches in the Northern US, if I'm not mistaken, which I might be) and the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, my denomination), we agree on most things and the liturgy is essentially the same. We are all Lutherans, after all. The differences between us are mostly on how the church should be run as an organization, how it should interact with the world, and what its stance on social issues should be. There are some doctrinal differences, but many of them aren't really scripturally based (though this is obviously a point of contention, as I'm sure some people would argue that they are, as is their right, since we are all called to study and believe in the Bible for ourselves) and to me, they're not as important as the things we agree on.

So for me, this meme is funny because we actually agree on most things, but yet we still tend to act very insular. To me, it's funny the same way that horror over a Catholic-Protestant marriage is funny. Obviously, it may not be as easy as a marriage where both people are the same denomination, but it's perfectly doable, and many people do it sucessfully. And yet, some people still panic about it. Similarly, within the Lutheran church, we tend to get rather aggressive about our sub-denominations, even though we have little reason to.

I was having a wander through some meme pages and Facebook groups related to Christianity, and I was surprised to learn that almost of the Lutheran ones were explictly or implicity for Missouri Synod or Confessional Lutherans, and some contained memes making fun of the ELCA. (All in good fun, and mostly inoffensively, I think one of them was about how we're afraid of crucifixes, which is a fair point, we kind of are.) Within the rules and posting guidelines of one of the pages, there was something about not posting anything anti-Confessional Lutheran, with the admins saying that some people from the ELCA had been attempting to post things making fun of the Confessional Lutherans. The way it was written implied the the ELCA had somehow snuck in to sabatoge the page. This struck me as hilarious, mostly because in my experience, no group of people have less of an agenda than the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. I like to jokingly say that the ELCA really took Matthew 6:5-6 to heart (for those interested:  And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 6 But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.) Many of the Lutheran churches I know do incredible work in their communities and in collecting for charities like Lutheran World Relief, and never publicize either of these things. We generally keep a very low profile, both online and irl, and I would argue that we’re not hurting anyone by quietly and politely disagreeing with the Missouri Synod et al. 

Despite this, people from these meme pages seemed to veiw the ELCA as at best, slightly misguided, and at worst, actively undermining the faith.  In general, there seemed to be a vibe of paranoia about the ELCA as “ruining” Lutheranism and trying to drag everyone down with them, despite the fact that the ELCA is the largest and most widespread Lutheran denomination in the US, and from our perspective, is mainstream Lutheranism. Many ELCA Lutherans (especially those who do not live in the Midwest) are only peripherally aware of the other denominations, so the idea that we are some sort of insidious faction is a little ridiculous. The idea that one group of Lutherans are the “real” Lutherans and all the others are wrong is also a little ridiculous. Do I disagree with most of the other Lutheran denominations? Of course I do. I didn’t, there wouldn’t be a need for different denominations. Do I think they are wrong about some things? Yes, very strongly. But are they still Lutherans? Of course they are. Because of this, the amount of online negativity coming from these groups is really disheartening, particularly since it’s just bouncing around in a echo chamber of people who already are predisposed to think that way. If this were part of a larger inter-denominational dialogue, that would be one thing, but since the ELCA has such a minimal online presence, and is actively banned from some of these groups, it just serves to amplify negativity. 

It’s a frequent enough thing: if you have religious friends, especially if they are part of a more evangelical or conservative tradition, or if you are, yourself, fairly religious, you may find that popular music often just isn’t up to your standards. Too much sex, too much cursing, too much glorification of worldly joys, and too few reminders that Jesus is Lord.

And to be honest, this is a valid complaint. There are plenty of lyrics in pop music that I would prefer my younger cousins not listen to. There are plenty of lyrics in pop music that I would prefer not to listen to. For some people, this has led to a wholesale condemnation of secular music. The place I am working at this summer, for example, has a rule against listening to any music that is not overtly religious while at work. In fact, they don’t even allow you to listen to music on a device that has secular music on it. The given reason for this is that they don’t want any of their patrons to be exposed, even accidentally, to anything less than a wholesome, Christian environment. I understand the intention of this policy: it is a Christian company, and many of the people using their services are children. It is easier to put a blanket ban on music that is not explicitly religious than to litigate every single case of “is this song appropriate for work?” (I have come up with several ways to get around the intention of this policy, including listening to Latin religious madrigals from the 1500’s and, since the policy only says “overtly religious” music, not “overtly Christian” music, listening to suras from the Qur’an. The likelihood that I will do either of these things is low, as I actually do want to keep this job, but I feel like someone should point it out to them.)

This policy reflects a larger trend among some Christians of avoiding secular music, especially hard rock, rap, and metal. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I disagree with this trend. Not only are you depriving yourself of some fantastic music, but distancing yourself from the world in such a manner can give you a dangerous “holier-than-thou” complex that proves antithetical to some of Christianity’s core values, namely recognizing that we are all sinners and therefore equal in the eyes of God.

But let’s return to my earlier point. Only listening to music that is overtly Christian can deprive you of some fantastic musical experiences. I’m not just talking about going to rock concerts; Christian rock is just as intense as secular rock. But there is plenty of music out there that, while not overtly Christian, is every bit as spiritual as something more obviously religious. Many artists, across all genres, include references to Scripture in their music, usually in a fairly subtle and understated way. There is an even wider group of songs that could be interpreted in secular or religious ways, depending on how the listener chooses to hear them. I would argue that listening to this kind of music is more beneficial to your spiritual growth for the thought-provoking effects it often has.

For me, at least, it can take a few listens-through before I go “hey, is this about the Bible? It totally is! Cool!” This usually leads to me playing the song on repeat, trying to tease out all the religious nuances from the lyrics, and googling the relevant passages, trying to remember where in the Bible they come from. Of course, not everyone would do this, but I generally find it to be a fulfilling learning experience. And because the religious meaning of these songs is not always obvious, I like having a sort of secret understanding of the song. I also think that listening to songs without references to scripture, but with messages that could be interpreted religiously, is a useful exercise in seeing God in the world around you.

Because I am that sort of religious music nerd, I have a playlist of what I call “Secret Jesus Songs,” and I thought it might be fun to use some of them as examples to illustrate exactly what I mean by all of this.

Simon: Firewoodisland

Besides being a lovely song, this little ditty by fantasy-folk group Firewoodisland contains some subtle references to Scripture. Notice in the chorus, where they say “a voice cried out in the wilderness, and there you were, a bolt from the blue”? This is almost certainly a reference to Isaiah 40:3, which in the King James Version of the Bible reads “The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” Many Christians see this part of Isaiah as a foretelling of the role of John the Baptist in the Gospels. The later part of the song also contains the words “You taught me how to tread on the blue,” probably a reference to Jesus teaching Peter to walk on water in Matthew 14. That would explain the title of the song; Simon was one of Peter’s other names. It’s possible, especially since the song doesn’t have any other reason to be called Simon, that the songwriters thought it would be too obvious to call the song “Peter,” when they are probably aware of their largely secular audience.

This song is a classic example of “songs with secret scriptural references.” Lest you think, however, that only obscure folk groups do this, I present another example.

Roll Away Your Stone: Mumford and Sons

Everyone loves Mumford and Sons. At least, the first two albums. Roll Away Your Stone is a lesser known song of theirs, but like most of their songs, it’s full of references. The title is an obvious one: Roll Away Your Stone references Mary Magdalene and the other women peering around the stone into the cave where Jesus was buried. In this case, the song seems to be referring to peering inside your own soul. The later part of the song says “it seems that all my bridges have been burned/but you say that’s exactly how this grace thing works.” This can only be a reference to spiritual grace and forgiveness. Mumford and Sons is not a Christian band, though it may have some Christian members, but their early songs are full of references to scripture and addresses to God. (They’re also full of Shakespeare references, including in this song: “Stars, hide your fires,” is from Macbeth.)

Our next song doesn’t contain any explicit references to the Bible, but the imagery used definitely invokes religious messages, at least for me.

Lion of Grace: Trevor Lewington

The song tells the story of a man who has struggled with some sort of mental health issue (it’s implied that he’s an alcoholic). He eventually recognizes that he needs help and seeks treatment, and the bridge and chorus of the song function as an apology to those around him whom he’s hurt. The chorus for me is the most poignant part: “I will surely find my way/I’ll repay every cent that I owe/I will hunt the Lion of Grace/’till I free this reckless soul.” In this case, the “lion of grace” that the singer is hunting is clearly a metaphor for forgiveness from those in his life who he’s hurt, but the phrasing reminds me of Biblical imagery, and there is no reason to suppose that he is not seeking forgiveness from God as well, since traditionally we use “grace” to refer to God’s forgiveness. Even if the song was not intended to be understood this way, the artist has definitely left room for a Christian interpretation of the song, whether he wanted to or not. I personally think that being able to find God in unexpected places is one of the most rewarding parts of life, and to deny yourself of that sort of experience makes your life just a little bit less fulfilling.

Our final song is a little bit less obvious, and while the other three were probably written with at least some idea of the Scriptural implications of their lyrics, this one likely wasn’t. Fantasy power metal isn’t exactly the first place people look for God.

Warriors: Freedom Call

I don’t think the authors of this song intended a Christian interpretation of it, but here we are. The repeated imagery surrounding fighting for life and light and freedom certainly reminds me of some Christian music, and also of descriptions of angels. Similarly, the bridge section “call for us/you will survive/follow us/to paradise,” definitely seems like it has something to with angels, or perhaps Christ himself. There are a few Freedom Call songs that also have lyrics that could be taken as Christian messaging. Of course, Christian metal is a real thing, (I just haven’t gotten into it), and this band is definitely not a Christian metal band, but even so, their music has some surprising messages.

I love Holy Week because for Lutherans, and definitely for me, Holy Week isn’t historical. We’re not commemorating something that happened 2000 years ago. We’re going through it with Jesus and his disciples. We’re there. We’re on the scene. We are part of the triumphant crowd laying down palms and we’re witnessing the Last Supper and we’re there when Jesus is crucified and breathes his last and the sun is blocked out and the earth shakes and the curtain of the temple is torn in two. We’re there.

We have a song about it, actually. Our Good Friday service involves singing a very, very long hymn and reciting all the words Jesus said on the cross while progressively darkening the room, the same way the skies would have grown dark as Jesus died. And at the end, when the room is completely dark, and Jesus has left the world, literally taking the light with him, what do we sing? A glorious old gospel hymn called Were You There?

Were you there when they crucified my Lord? Where you there when they crucified my Lord? Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble. Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

It’s got several verses, but they all sort of follow this pattern. Which is good, because you do need to sing it in almost complete darkness, preferably swaying back and forth and trying not to cry. It goes through all the major parts of the crucifixion: the nailing to the cross, the piercing of Jesus’s side, the laying in the tomb. But it’s the last verse that always gets me. Were you there when the sun refused to shine? It’s the first implication that this is no normal execution. Criminals got executed all the time in the Roman Empire. But for how many of their deaths did the sun refuse to shine? For how many did the earth shake in protest?

At the end of the service, after that hymn, there is usually a minute or so of silence. We stand in darkness, just standing there, unable to hear anything but the sound of our own breathing. And then, in the darkness, someone standing at the altar closes the massive Bible that we keep there. They don’t close it, actually. They slam it shut as loudly as they can. Every year, even though I know it’s coming, I still jump. It is the sound of the stone rolling into place in front of the tomb. And it is the silencing of God’s voice. The story is over. The book is shut. Heaven is unavailable for comment. And in that moment, you can feel how devastating Jesus’s death was for his original disciples. Just when it seemed that Jesus was at the height of his power, less than a week after his parade into Jerusalem, surrounded by cheering crowds, he’s dead. Everything their lives have been for the past three years is suddenly over. And one of their own has betrayed them. There is no going on from that. At least not within three days. Jesus is dead, and the voice of God has left them.

On what is possibly our holiest of holidays, the Three Days of Holy Week, we actually probably talk about God the least. It’s a deeply human, visceral, emotional experience. It’s about reliving a time when all hope seemed lost and God seemed to have left us. It’s about a man, named Jesus, who knew what he had to do, and struggled against it, but did it in the end anyway, because he trusted that God had given him this mission. And it’s about being one of that man’s disciples and going through the pain of his death.

Of course, all of this makes Easter Sunday even sweeter. To wake up in the morning and know that Jesus is alive again, after having gone through the experience of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, is one of the most joyous experiences of my life. Which may sound a little pathetic. But there’s nothing quite like the news that Jesus is back and better than ever. Like, oh, you thought I was dead? You thought you’d seen the last of me? Surprise, kiddo, I’m back and I’m ready to teach more people and perform more miracles. Also, I just proved to anyone who was still wondering that I really am the Son of God, so there’s that. Thanks for helping me fulfill all the prophecies about me, Roman Empire, now I’m off to found a major world religion, which you will initially persecute and then eventually convert to and spread to an entire continent and then later several more continents. You’re welcome, Rome, I just made you the center of part of the world’s greatest religion forever. NO need to thank me.

More than just the emotional experience of Easter, I love the promises it brings with it. Christmas is about anticipation. Advent is about waiting for something wonderful to be brought into the world, and Christmas, though it is joyful, is joyful about the promise of good things to come. Hurray, this magical baby is here, can’t wait to see the man he grows up into. That’s Christmas.