The Difficulty with Closed Communion

There is always a tension within the LCMS about closed communion. "Officially" it is the policy of the LCMS that all congregations practice closed communion, that is, communion for members in good standing in a Missouri Synod Lutheran church.

But, despite the official position, many congregations do not practice closed communion. The rationale of pastors is that, in the practical, "real world," a little thing called "pastoral discretion" must be used. Now, I agree, there may be times when it is good for a non-LCMS Christian to partake of the Holy Meal, but those times should be few and far between.

Pastors who take liberties with pastoral discretion often appeal to the Gospel. They do not want to turn away possible "seekers" by the strict policy of closed communion. Other pastor's prefer to play loose with the meaning of closed communion, preferring the more friendly "close communion," meaning that as long as we are "close" in our theology, we may commune together.

I have been a parish pastor now for 4 weeks. We have had non-LCMS visitors every week. I have had to explain to them our position and it is a hard thing to do. I suspect that the real reason for loose practice in regards to closed communion is because it is hard. It is much easier to take an attitude of "gospel-lead," self-righteous and missional compassion than to take the time to teach, explain and possibly offend.

In short, I do not like closed communion, but that is because my sinful nature always want to rebel against God and His Word. I also do not always like proclaiming the Law which accuses. Being faithful to God's Word is not easy, but with His guidance I will continue to faithfully serve His people with His Word and Sacraments.

What does it really mean to "give your heart to Jesus"?

Another great dialogue from Giertz's The Hammer of God. The curate, a senior pastor, has just received an assistant pastor, Fridfeldt. This young man thinks that he is truly saved because he has given his heart to Jesus.

[Fridfeldt] "But don't you know, sir, what it means to be a believer?"

"That is a word which can stand for things that differ greatly, my boy. I ask only what it is that you believe in."
"In Jesus, of course," answered Fridfeldt, raising his voice. "I mean--I mean that I have given him my heart."

The older man's face became suddenly as solemn as the grave.
"Do you consider that something to give him?"

By this time, Fridfeldt was almost in tears.
"But sir, if you do not give your heart to Jesus, you cannot be saved."

"You are right, my boy. And it is just as true that, if you think you are saved because you give Jesus your heart, you will not be saved. You see, my boy," he continued reassuringly, as he continued to look at the young pastor's face, in which uncertainty and resentment were shown in a struggle for the upper hand, "it is one thing to choose Jesus as one's Lord and Savior, to give him one's heart and commit oneself to him, and that he now accepts one into his little flock; it is a very different thing to believe in him as a Redeemer of sinners, of whom one is cheif. One does not choose a Redeemer for oneself, you understand, nor give one's heart to him. The heart is a rusty old can on a junk heap. A fine birthday gift, indeed! But a wonderful Lord passes by, and has mercy on the wretched tin can, sticks his walking cane through it, and rescues it from the junk pile and takes it home with him. That is how it is."*

* The Hammer of God, pg 122, 123.

Moderation in Everything

I'm re-reading the wonderful novel by Bo Giertz*, The Hammer of God. In it, a Swedish Lutheran peasant is given a great and generous offer by a baron. The exchange goes as follows:
"You are not like the other pietists," he [the baron] had said. "You are mery and can sing a gay ballad at times. If you will promise to keep from excesses and to show moderation also in Christianity, I'll give you half a barrel of rye right now. There should be moderation in everything."

Aron [the peasant] had answered him, "You can keep that rye, Baron, because the condition you require is too difficult for me. Moderate means, does it not, that the amount shall be the proper amount? And the right measure of Christianity is to love God with all one's heart and one's neighbor as oneself. I still have far to go to measure up."

The baron laughed and sent for the half a barrel of rye, nevertheless.
(pg 67)

* Bo Giertz, born in Sweden in 1905, was a parish pastor and then a Bishop of the Lutheran diocese of Gothenburg, Sweden. An internationally respected clergyman and theologian, Giertz has been compared to other twentieth-century Christian apologists, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and C.S. Lewis.

The Rose's Thorn

I have long wondered why people find the grace and forgiveness of God freely given in Christ is such a hard concept, myself included, to freely accept. I think I may have tje beginnings of an idea.

When our sinful nature is presented with its true depravity it wants to flee. When I, as a pastor, present people with God's Word of Law they often want to put the blame on someone else. They want to try to justify themselves by saying "At least I didn't do that or this!" If we are given forgiveness then that means we have to admit to wrong doing, and that is not comfortable for anyone.

Jesus comes as a sweet smelling rose, but to receive the benefits that He gives, we are rightly pricked with the thorn of His Law and convicted by His own perfect obedience. While the prick lasts only a moment and is out-weighed by the benefit of the rose, some people do not want even a momentary uncomfortableness and would rather live without the sweetness and beauty of the rose.

The Law hurts, it's meant to. The Law makes the Gospel all the more sweet and without it the Gospel is not free, but worthless. The Law gives the Gospel its value and worth.

Defense of the Crucifix in Lutheranism and Christianity

Rev. Paul McCain brought this to my attention through his blog. The Wisconsin Synod has given a very good answer to "Isn't that too CATHOLIC?!?!" in regards to the crucifix of our Lord Jesus Christ. Give it a read!

A Shepherd's Warning

Watch Out! The wolf doesn't attack the Lord's flock stealthily at night anymore, but in open daylight. We see him move toward slaughtering the sheep, yet we oppose him without caution and without darts of words. So then, what fruits of a growing flock can we show the Lord if we calmly watch a wild beast mangle those we have been caring for? But we must study to make our hearts passionate by imitating earthly shepherds. They often keep watch through winter nights, nipped by rain and frost, lest even one sheep should perish. And if the prowler does bite one greedily, they busy themselves to save it. They pant with rapid heartbeats, leap to rescue the sheep with loud cries, and are stimulated by the urgency, lest the lord of the flock require what they lost carelessly. Watch then, lest anything perish. And if anything is seized by chance, bring it back to the Lord's flock by cries of godly instruction. Then the Shepherd of shepherds may mercifully approve of us in His judgment for having watched over His flock.
(From Day by Day with the Early Church Fathers, pg 180- Gregory I, Epistles 2.48)

Gregory I (540-604). Gregory was born into a godly family of considerable influence in Rome. After the death of his father, he proceeded to set up seven monasteries, one of which he became abbot. Gregory wasn't allowed to stay for long; the pope called him to be one of the seven deacons of Rome and subsequently sent him to Constantinople to be a representative at the imperial court. In 590, after the death of the pope, he was called to take his place. Gregory called himself "servant of the servants of God," a title every pope has used since. His most important writings are the Pastoral Rule, a handbook for bishops; numerous teachings, letters, dialogues; and the Exposition of Job.

The First and Primary Cause

When a field has brought good, rich crops to perfect maturity, no one would logically say that the farmer made those fruits. Everyone would acknowledge that the crops had been produced by God. In the same way, our own perfection isn't brought about by inactivity and idleness, but by some activity on our part. Yet we aren't credited with its perfection. God is. He is the first and primary cause of the work. Take, for example, a ship that has overcome the dangers of the sea through hard working sailors, the aid of navigation, a pilot's zeal and carefulness, favorable breezes, and the careful observation of the signs of the stars. No one in his right mind would attribute the vessel's safety to anything else than the mercy of God when, after being tossed by the waves, and wearied by the billows, it has at last reached the harbor. Not even any of the sailors or the pilot would venture to say, "I have saved the ship," but would refer entirely to the mercy of God. This isn't because these men feel that they haven't contributed skill or labor to save the ship, but the vessel's safety was entrusted by God. Similarly, in the race of life, we must work diligently and passionately.
(From Day by Day with the Early Church Fathers, pg 175- Origen, First Principles 3.1)

The Dissidence of Life's Harmony

From the American Edition of Luther's Works, vol. 6, pg. 92, editied in Faith Alone by James C. Galvin.

People who are unfamiliar with the principles of musical harmony have trouble appreciating how the various sounds produced by an organ or harp can result in such beautiful music. In this life, we hear the sounds, not the symphony. It appears to us that God is asleep and the devil is wide-awake and ruling everything. Human reason concludes that neither God nor people are in control of the world, but that everything on earth happens by chance. Human wisdom can't comprehend the infinite, heavenly truth that God is in charge and allows many more things in this world to succeed than fail. God's kindness is more widespread that the devil's cruelty. But human reason makes us uncertain because we experience so much disorder and injustice. We feel uncertain because we don't see by the same light the angels do. We can't understand how right and wrong, life and death, light and darkness all harmonize.

Moderates and Confessionals

From my good friend Rev. Tom Chryst at Grace Lutheran Church, Racine, Wisconsin:
As the July LCMS convention approaches, I have been pondering the struggles of the Synod and my place in it all. I have been thinking for some time about the two camps in the LCMS and how I managed to start in one and migrate to the other.
Coming from the East Coast and out of Concordia, Bronxville, I was a prime candidate to end up in the "moderate" wing of the synod. Going into seminary, I wasn't totally convinced of Closed Communion, and had my doubts about women's ordination.
I remember even in Seminary getting into an argument about whether the LCMS should even be discussing women's ordination (I thought then, that we should - my wiser adversary saying it was a settled matter.)
Back then, I didn't like contemporary and praise type music, but still didn't really "get" the liturgy.
I remember firmly thinking that style and substance were completely unrelated.
I also figured I could and would remain neutral in all the various squabbles of the LCMS, and be "above it all."
Honestly, I also didn't study the Confessions as seriously as I should have in seminary. It didn't seem so "relevant" to me then.
How that changed. While I still am careful about how and when and where I participate in our synod's political process, I find myself increasingly taking sides with the confessional/conservative/traditionalist camp. My growing appreciation for and understanding of Lutheran theology is to blame for this.
The Yankee Stadium controversy was, for me, and for many I think, a turning point. It almost drew a line in the sand. You kind of HAD to take sides. And as I examined what happened there and studied the issues carefully, I found myself siding with a new and strange group of people. The people who used to scare me.
I was, originally, quite intimidated by the Confessional crowd in the LCMS. I think I understand why. To me, they represented the Law. Their very existence suggested there was something "less pure" or "less faithful" or "less Lutheran" about me. And I resented that. I guess I also internally knew that it was true, and so these guys became a sort of walking talking embodiment of the Law for me. By identifying themselves as certain things, they implicitly identified others as not those things. Liturgical, traditional, Biblical, concerned about Law and Gospel, faithful, confession-minded... all these have an opposite.
I have heard moderates in the synod speak derisively of the "ultra-conservatives," as they assumed I sympathized with them. I honestly don't know what the problem is, other than a feeling that because that guy wears a collar all the time and doesn't do contemporary worship, he must think he's better than us. And in a sense, I guess that's true. But perhaps he simply thinks what he is doing is better.
Sure there's arrogance and condescension on the confessional side too. And to the extent that we allow this we are sure to turn off the moderates even more. But even without it, I think a certain amount of Law will prick the honest moderate's conscience, as he sees a faithful pastor doing things he knows he should be doing - but is either too lazy, or afraid, or uninformed to do.
I have come a long way in the last 7 years. I still feel like I am on the road to becoming truly Lutheran. I appreciate the internet and all I have learned here, in the blogs and on the email lists and forums... and it gives me hope. Issues Etc. is another gem.
I hope that many who were or are like me - once the Squishy Missouri Middle - can grow and learn and see why it is we want to build Lutheran identity and stem the tide of the Neo-Evangelical influence in our Synod.

Our Hidden Lives

This morning in Men's Bible Study we were talking about looking to the cross for all good things. There are trials and tribulations in our lives, and while I will not presume to know the mind of God or His reasoning, one of the blessings of trials and tribulations for Christians is that it can point us back to our sufficiency in Christ.

This afternoon while reading Luther, I came across this very beautiful description of our hidden lives. While we are redeemed and share presently in the glory of our resurrected and ascended Lord, that reality is often hidden.

Luther says: But faith must close its eyes and refuse to pass judgment on what it sees or feels in the world. You won't become aware of eternal life until Christ raises you from the dead. Meanwhile, your eternal life is hidden in death. It's covered up and out of sight. But you have forgiveness. If you feel the weight of sin crushing you, you can still say, "My sins are forgiven." When your sins hunt you down, bite at you, and terrify you, you can look to Christ, put your feeble faith in Him, and hold on tightly.*

It seems at times that telling people to just look to Christ isn't enough. Our sinful nature wants to take the reigns from God. That is where so many church bodies and pastors get into trouble. When you get to a point where Christ's sacrificial and atoning death, His justifying resurrection and glorious ascension and mediation are no longer enough you may as well hand your soul to the devil. Faith closes its eyes to everything but Christ and Him crucified. There we have our sufficiency.

*Luther's Works AE 23:74