“Holy” is one of the most common church words. It is a part of the very fabric of the English language, used often even by non-Christians. We give very little thought to the word — most often we think of it as another way of saying “Godly.” We use it to connect something to God — or as a swear word or phrase to emphasize something. So, if we think about it, the phrases “Holy God” or “Holy Trinity” seem like we’re repeating ourselves — kind of like saying “Godly God.”
The Hebrew word for holy is קָדֹושׁ (kadosh — Separate, devoted, pure). When we say God is holy, we mean he is completely separate from all things, high above all things. Theologians use it to describe all of God’s qualities (attributes). Everything about God is absolutely pure and not mixed with anything else. When it comes to talking about God’s will and actions, the word “holy” means that God is absolutely good and without sin. Nothing impure can exist in his presence. That is why a sinful person cannot see God’s glory and live. That is why, in the temple, only the purified High Priest could enter the Most Holy Place (Holy of Holies) once a year, and only to bring the blood of the sacrifice that brought the people of Israel the forgiveness of sins.
Because God is holy, anything set apart for his use is called holy. The temple, the sacrifices, his people. In the New Testament, the Word of God and the Sacraments are called holy: they connect God and his people. They are Means of Grace, how God, in his grace and mercy, creates faith in our hearts, forgives our sins, claims us as his own children, and gives us life and salvation for the sake of the atoning sacrifice of God’s Son on the cross. In Baptism, Jesus makes us holy. (Ephesians 1:4, 5:27) Now we are his saints (“Holy Ones”). We are a holy nation called to proclaim his good news to the whole world.
Now God calls on us, as his holy people, to be holy as our Heavenly Father is holy and perfect. (Leviticus 19:2, Matthew 5:48) As sinners, we will not be completely holy in our lifetime, but in faith, trusting in Christ, we can begin to do good works. Because of the cross, God sees only these works and remembers our sins no more. When we die and enter Christ’s eternal presence, we will then be purged of our sins once and for all, and live as holy people in fellowship with our Holy God forever.
Orthodox is a term that is a bit like catholic in the minds of casual Christians. We hear these terms as they are applied to identifiable sects. That identification can lead us to assume that the word itself must refer to the sect.
Catholic simply means universal or whole. So, in the Sunday morning prayers, when we pray for “the whole Christian Church on earth,” we could just as well say the “Catholic Church” on earth. Our friends in the Roman Catholic sect are the most significant association with that term, applying to a specific denomination within Christianity. There are also other non-Roman Catholic denominations that identify themselves as Catholic. Rome neither holds nor exercises exclusive rights to that term, though the pope may want us to think that.
Orthodox rings similarly in our ears. For those who’ve heard of the Eastern Orthodox Church, we assume those terms are synonymous with the Eastern Christian sect. That’s not exactly so.
The Eastern and Western Christians split in 1054 AD. The patriarchs of Rome and Constantinople had a falling-out, which led to the split. The patriarchs of the Eastern churches sided with the patriarch of Constantinople. The Roman patriarch found himself alone, heading a large portion of Christianity. The churches we call Orthodox are from the Eastern side and those patriarchs. That time deserves its own treatment in another article or articles.
Ὀρθόδοξος (Orthodox) simply means straight teaching, opinion, or belief. For those of an etymological inclination, ὀρθῶς (orthōs) means straight, unbent, or unwavering. And, δόξα (doksa) means teaching, opinion, or belief. It is the foil of heterodoxy, which is mingled or combined teaching.
There’s more here than simply lexical understandings. Orthodoxy in Christianity is normed by the scriptures and our teaching drawn from them. The Bible is the norm that norms our teaching. Our teaching is the norm, which is normed by the Word of God, the Bible.
There are also orthodox teachers of non-Christian religions. Orthodox adherents of Judaism, who may or may not be Orthodox Jews, will want to destroy the Dome of the Rock, rebuild the Jewish Temple, and resume the O.T. sacrificial system. Orthodox Muslims are politely called “extremists.” It is orthodoxy in Islam to desire and seek the death of the infidel, all non-Muslims. Orthodoxy in the Latter-Day Saints requires plural marriage and the rejection of all unbelievers (Christians outside the LDS). Former Mormons receive the worst fate among orthodox LDS. They are the only ones who can go to “outer darkness.”
There is also an orthodoxy in all sects of Christianity. Orthodox Lutherans, Anglicans, Baptists, and Methodists seek to maintain adherence to the teachings as we have received them. In a seeming incongruity, orthodox teachers of heterodox churches teach contrary to Christian orthodoxy and the Word of God from which it springs.
For we Lutherans, that means that we hold to our doctrines and remain in the Word of God, always ready to be corrected by the scriptures in our understanding and teachings. The five solas of the reformation (grace alone, faith alone, scripture alone, Christ alone, to the glory of God alone) constantly direct us back to the Word of God and conform our straight teaching to it.
By our Orthodoxy, we preach Christ, and Him crucified.
[Nineth in a series of posts on church words]Encore Post: The oldest and most universal name for the Church is “Christian.” In fact, followers of Jesus were first called “Christian” by Gentiles in the city of Antioch — as recorded by St. Luke in the Book of Acts! (Acts 11:26) It was not a complement. The followers of crazy new religions were called by their founder’s name — with the -ian ending! In fact, most of them probably thought the disciples of Jesus were followers of a man named “Chrestus” — a popular name for a slave. Christians seemed to have called themselves “slaves of Jesus Christ” (that’s what the phrase translated “servants of Jesus Christ” really means!), brothers, holy ones (saints) or disciples. Eventually, the nickname stuck when it was used by Romans to charge Christians with believing in Jesus Christ. Since it was good enough for the martyrs, it was good enough for everyone!
Today we use it in a variety of ways. We use it for a follower of Christ, the religion they belong to, a behavior in keeping with the word of God, political parties and many other ways. As fine a word as it is, sometimes it can be quite useless. For example, Mormons, who believe that God was a man and that we, too, can earn god or goddess-hood, Jehovah’s Witnesses, who do not believe Jesus is God or died on the cross, and many others call themselves Christian. In fact, Social Scientists count them along with us. People who have never darkened the door of a church will count themselves as Christians, because they believe they are “good people.”
Yet we confess that we believe in the “one, holy, Christian and Apostolic Church.” For all the false claims and misleading uses of the word, we are proud to “belong to Christ.” After all, he loved us, set aside his glory, suffered and died for us, paying the price of our sins, rose again to break the seal of the grave for us and, in baptism, made us his own. So we fight for the term and gladly wear his name — the name the martyrs confessed and died to proclaim. Lord, may we follow in their train!
“That’s Catholic!” you may hear someone say when they see a Lutheran make the sign of the cross, a crucifix hanging in the sanctuary of a Lutheran church, a pastor wearing a clerical collar, or another traditional practice they’ve not seen Lutherans do. What they’re thinking is this means the Lutheran in question is acting like a Roman Catholic. They are often unaware that Lutherans have had these practices since the time of the Reformation or that the word catholic did not originally refer to the Christian tradition headed by the Pope. The word catholic has been used since the early church to refer to the whole Christian Church.
The word catholic is from the Greek word καθολικός (literally “according to the whole”) and means “universal.” So, if we wanted to be sarcastic, we could answer the objection “that’s catholic,” “Why, yes! The whole church does it!” The early church would use the phrase “catholic church” to mean the invisible church. When someone wanted to talk about the faith of the whole church and not just a single congregation or region, they would call it the “catholic faith.”
Soon, the word was used to separate false teachings and false teachers from orthodox teachings and leaders. The true faith was called the “catholic” or “orthodox” faith. False teachings were called heresies (literally “other teachings”), and the groups that promoted them were called schisms (literally “divisions”). At the time of the Reformation, Luther’s opponents quickly charged him and his associates with not being “catholic” but heretical. They labeled them “Lutherans” as an insult (meaning followers of Luther and not Christ) and themselves as Catholics. From the very beginning, Luther and Lutheran theologians defended themselves by saying they were the true catholics, teaching the orthodox faith as it was taught and practiced from the beginning. As you might guess, they did not win this argument, even though they were right.
You will occasionally run into the word in Lutheran circles, even today. You will sometimes see it in the creeds — especially the Apostles’ Creed, which reads in Latin and Greek (translated) “one holy, catholic and apostolic church.” Martin Luther used the word “Christian” because existing German translations did. Theologians will still use the term from time to time when emphasizing that we believe and teach what the church has always believed. So, don’t panic if you are asked to confess that you believe in the catholic faith — because you do!
Beginning tomorrow, the What Does This Mesn? blog will begin running our post series on church words.
In church, we use a number of words that we assume everyone knows, but no one ever explains. These posts provide background on these terms and what we mean by them when we use them.
Rev. Robert E. Smith Pastor Emeritus Fort Wayne, Indiana
Sermon on John 17 Fifth Wednesday in Lent Zion Lutheran Church Guttenberg, Iowa 25 March 2026
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,
This reading that we had this evening comes from the last prayer that we have recorded from the mouth of Jesus before he died (John 17). It was said in the Garden of Gethsemane, and while the disciples were trying to stay awake, they were depressed, confused, and did not know whether up or down was coming.
It had been a whirlwind of a couple of weeks. A sense of things leading toward conflict grew with each step that they took toward Jerusalem.
Jesus had healed a blind man in Jericho (Luke 18:35–43), a clear sign of the Messiah. Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead in the sight of the priests, not miles from Jerusalem, after he had been dead for four days (John 11:38–44), yet one more sign of the Messiah.
On Palm Sunday, Jesus deliberately rides a donkey along the road that David took (1 Kings 1:33–34). He rode on a donkey, fulfilling prophecy (Zechariah 9:9), just as David had taken that very same road to reassume his throne, and just as his son Solomon had done, also riding a donkey into Jerusalem.
The sign was unmistakable to the pilgrims gathering for Passover, as the Passover lambs streamed in along the same road from Bethlehem, headed toward the temple for sacrifice.
He accepted the praises of the crowd, “Hosanna to the Son of David, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord” (Psalm 118:25–26; Matthew 21:9), and none of this was lost on the priests and those around him. The disciples were both joyful and just a little bit nervous.
The road led up and across the brook Kidron and directly into the temple complex, where Jesus was to drive the money changers out of the temple (Matthew 21:12–13) for three days and argue with the scribes and the Pharisees as they tried all the trick questions they could think of. Every one of them, Jesus deftly turned aside, and the disciples could not miss the hatred in their eyes. They knew something was up, but they really didn’t know exactly what that was.
Thomas long ago had conceded that he was headed toward Jerusalem to die: “Let us also go, that we may die with him” (John 11:16).
It’s not only that, but Jesus had this tendency over the years to constantly predict his suffering, death, and resurrection, all at the hands of the scribes and the Pharisees (Matthew 16:21; Mark 10:33–34; Luke 18:31–33). And so, unsettled, they were listening to him, wondering half what this last teaching really meant for them.
And so, Jesus, quite aware of all of this, prays for them and for us.
What Is It That Bothers You Today?
We have quite a few things in this life: the usual litany of the phases of life—sickness, grief, death, hurricanes, tornadoes, all kinds of disasters that come our way, and ups and downs in the economy. Just when you think you can pay for your gas, you pull into the gas pump, and the price has jumped again.
All these things can worry and build on you. And if it’s not that, it’s chronic aches and pains, the issues that you find with workers and people alongside you. And any time you open your mouth to say anything to people about Jesus, you get at best a polite look of disdain and maybe even some ridicule along the way.
“In the world you will have tribulation,” Jesus told us (John 16:33). And he was right. We do have tribulation at every turn. These, he told us, are a sign that we are in the last days (Matthew 24:8), in the same way that you know that when labor begins, a woman is about to deliver her baby. And you might not know when, but you know it is coming, and it is coming soon.
And so it is we know that the end will come for us, either at the end of our days or at the end of all days, whichever the Lord wills.
The World, the Devil, and Our Own Sinful Flesh
The world itself is also preoccupied with everything that is on its agenda, each and every one of us being of the opinion that we, of course, should rule the world. And so we seek our own happiness, and the commercials and the television programs and the internet all urge us to splurge, to buy, to enjoy ourselves, to have all kinds of luxuries, that we are really right when we think that we are better than the people next to us and the people down the street.
Chief of sinners though I be… we might think all the rest are worse than me.
The devil’s accusations also play into this. Just as the devil tried to throw Jesus off his game with all of his sly things—“Turn these stones into bread… Bow down to me… Throw yourself down from the pinnacle of the temple” (Matthew 4:1–11)—so the same kinds of things also bear down on us.
When we know that we have to be disciplined, that we have to guard our lives so that we please God and our neighbors, so that we live in peace with people, and so that we raise our children well, we discover that sometimes those are very, very long paths and very, very long drawn-out things that you have to engage in, that could take you years to do. And so, taking a little shortcut, even if it’s not quite kosher, is a very tempting thing that comes our way.
Our own hearts, you see, are still inclined to sin (Romans 7:18–25), although we have been baptized and washed by the blood of the Lamb (Revelation 1:5), that we have been made his children and heirs, and a new person put in our hearts (2 Corinthians 5:17). That old Adam and that old Eve still keep coming along, and as is sometimes attributed to Luther, although I can’t find it in him, the old Adam is a good swimmer—very hard to drown in the waters of baptism (Romans 6:3–6). And he will be with us until the day that we die, and the Lord relieves us of him once and for all.
But in the meantime, we have all these things that tempt us to sin, and more often than we would like, we fall into those sins and have to start all over each day, asking for forgiveness and trying one more time.
“I Pray for You”
In the midst of all of this, which can get sometimes very confusing, they say that when you go into a battle, the moment that the first shots are fired, the smoke and the noise and the splashing of light is such that nobody knows where anybody or anyone else is, and the confusion is almost as bad as the violence around you.
And so it is in our world sometimes. We really can’t figure out what’s up or down some days.
And that’s why it is good that Jesus says, “I pray for you.” (John 17:9, 20)
Jesus, you see, rescued us from this, taking all of these sins, all of our doubts, all of our worries, all of our fear, and went to the cross right after he prayed this prayer, where he suffered and died that our sins might be completely paid for, washed away by the shedding of his very own precious blood on that cross (1 Peter 1:18–19).
And when he died and paid for it once and for all and said, “It is finished,” (John 19:30), it was really finished. Our sins are forgiven. Our lives are promised to be with him forever. And when our time comes to an end, that is where we will be, with him in glory forever and ever (Philippians 1:23).
And so he prays for us because he knows exactly what this life is like. One of the side benefits of the incarnation is that God walked as a man, suffered, had the same pains and the same temptations as each one of us (Hebrews 4:15), and knows very well what we’re up against. And so when he prays, he prays for what he knows very, very well.
Just as he begins to pray, it is not the last time he does so. It sounds like it—the High Priestly Prayer comes to an end, he’s arrested and off to the cross. But we’re told in various and sundry different places that in the midst of this world, in the midst of all of the trials and tribulations and the groanings that we have in this world, that Jesus is at the right hand of God interceding for us (Romans 8:34; Hebrews 7:25).
Now, on the side of him, the Holy Spirit is at work, listening to us, and when we don’t have the words to pray, praying those words himself for us (Romans 8:26–27).
In that promise, we can stand knowing that every day of our lives, not only are we not alone, but that God himself is praying to God for us. You really can’t lose when that’s going on.
Why Does He Pray?
And as if that were not enough—and it sure is—he continues to encourage us through the reading, the singing, and the preaching of his word (Romans 10:17), through the waters of baptism (Titus 3:5), through the comfort of hearing God’s own voice through your pastor forgiving your sins (John 20:22–23), through the sacrament of his body and blood where we receive the very body and blood of Christ shed for us for the forgiveness of our sins (Matthew 26:26–28).
In all of this, why does he pray?
He prays that we would be forgiven (John 17:17).
He prays that we would be one with each other and with the Church in heaven (John 17:21–23).
He prays that we would be made holy (John 17:17).
And you know, if God prays to God, there’s only one answer to that prayer, and that’s yes.
And so we can have comfort in this:
When you cannot pray, Christ prays for you.
When your faith is weak, his prayers undergird you and hold you up.
When you are weak and don’t know what is coming next, he is there to strengthen you.
And on the last day, he will send his angel to escort you to be with him (Luke 16:22).
So it is that you live with God even now. In the center of the Holy Trinity, in that family of persons that are one being, yet three, we are also one in some mysterious way with him, even in this life (John 14:20; John 17:23).
For Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me, even though he dies, yet shall he live. And he who lives and believes in me shall never die.” (John 11:25–26)
And so it is with us. As we walk in this life, we can be confident that no matter what comes our way, Jesus is with us and he prays for us. And that is really, really good enough.
Palm Sunday Sermon Zion Lutheran Church, Guttenberg, Iowa and St. Paul Lutheran Church, McGregor, Iowa 29 March 2026 Rev. Michael Brent Keller
Dear saints, the Jewish leaders have wanted to kill Jesus for months, if not years. Finally, they get their chance. Judas goes to the chief priests and asks, “What will you give me if I deliver him over to you?” The answer, thirty pieces of silver, was enough for him, and he started looking for the opportunity to earn that silver.
Jesus is not ignorant of this scheme, and He speaks of it in the Upper Room. He had always known His hour was coming; that He would be handed over to those who hated Him and be crucified. But that also does not mean He wanted Judas to commit treason against his God. But the time does come. Judas brings a mob to the garden, and Jesus is arrested, and your Lord’s passion is well underway.
Something else occurs in the Upper Room. Jesus warns of what is coming, and Peter boldly proclaims that, even if the rest run away, he would never. “Truly, I tell you, this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.” Peter said to him, “Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you!”
But they all run in the garden. And Peter enters the courtyard near where Jesus is tried. During the trial, two different slave girls asked if Peter was a disciple. Finally, a different bystander asks. The denial turns to oath and culminates with invoking a curse upon himself. And then, the crow pierces the air, and Peter begins to weep bitterly.
As this happens, Judas is also paying attention. And when he sees Jesus condemned, he regrets what he did. He changes his mind. But notice what Scripture says he does not do: repent. Nonetheless, he feels the weight of what he has done, and it leads him to return to the chief priests. Those who are supposed to be the shepherds who guide and share the word of the Lord. He confesses his sin and brings back the silver. But whatever absolution Judas sought, he did not find. These religious leaders have no compassion for Judas, and in their hatred of Christ, they also dismiss his remorseful disciple. They leave it to him to care for his sin. And in grief, Judas throws the silver at their feet and flees the temple.
But the guilt remains. And it breaks him. Sorrowful for his betrayal, Judas fails to seek his Lord. Perhaps he feared what would happen if he did. Even after he sought those who hated Jesus and who treated him with contempt. And now, instead of looking to Jesus for absolution, he takes the priest’s advice. And to make matters worse, he decides that he must be the one to pay for the curse he has put himself under by betraying innocent blood. He judges himself guilty, sentences himself to death, puts himself on a tree, and hangs himself. He knows the Law. He knows the penalty. And so, he takes it all upon himself. He condemns himself and dies for his own sin.
But Peter does not deal with it himself. He does not try to fix it himself. Instead, he stays with the rest of the disciples. On the day of the Resurrection, he is with them in the upper room. He is with them in the days that follow when he decides to go fishing. And he is with them when they encounter Jesus on a seashore. Where Jesus questions and absolves him, restoring him to the Twelve. And when he leaves, he is unburdened.
Judas betrays our Lord, and Peter denies Him. But afterward, Peter is repentant while Judas is remorseful. Peter receives absolution from his Lord. Judas is counselled by the priests to deal with it himself. Something he does with tragic consequences. When you sin against your Lord and God, the same options stand before you. You can feel bad for what you have done and try to fix it yourself, or you can run to your Lord and know that His absolution is there for you.
Today, the week that leads to the cross begins. Your Lord enters Jerusalem as King and will soon take up His throne on Calvary. There, He wins for you salvation…redemption… absolution. We see the effect of Judas’ betrayal. But even more, we witness the place where absolution for Peter…for you…is claimed. Amen
In Israel, an ancient inscription is set in the floor of a church. Verbum Caro Hic Factum Est (here the word was made flesh). Emperor Constantine had the church — and these words — built there in the 4th century. (300s). There, his mother, Helena, was told that God had become a man. It is not in Bethlehem. It is Nazareth, the place thought to have been the girlhood home of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Ancient tradition identified it as the place where the Angel Gabriel had announced the incarnation of the Eternal Son of God in her womb. Here, it was believed the impossible happened — the finite contained the infinite. The Author of Life became the child of a Jewish girl. To all Christians who confess the doctrines of the Nicene Creed, she is known as the θεοτόκος (theotokos) — the bearer or the Mother of God.
On March 25th, the church celebrates it as the Annunciation. We celebrate on March 25th — nine months before Christmas — right in the middle of Lent or early in the season of Easter. From the perspective of human logic, it is backwards.
Religions invented by humans are all about people seeking God, going on a quest, doing one work after another, performing one ritual after another. Greeks and Eastern religions are all about getting rid of the flesh and the physical world, ascending into the heavens spiritually. The goal is to shed the body for what’s really important — the spiritual.
The incarnation is the first and greatest revelation — epiphany. We don’t seek God — God seeks us. We don’t strive to climb Jacob’s ladder — he comes down it. The Son of Godis the Son of Man. He is in every way like us — except he didn’t sin. He brings to us grace after grace.
The incarnation tells more than about God. It tells us that flesh and blood are good, not to be despised or rejected, but to be celebrated and accepted. We are very good, just the way God made us. We are male or female, short or tall, big or small-boned, a unique combination of traits chosen by God so that none of us — even twins — are exactly the same. In baptism, he calls us by name and writes our names in the Book of Life. What he wants is each one of us. It is for us he was born, lived a perfect life, suffered, died, rose, and ascended into heaven. And it is for us he will come again. He will call our name when he summons us from the grave and transforms us for life everlasting. The truth is, he became flesh to live with us — now and forever.
[Fifty-Eighth in a series of posts on Martin Luther’s Small Catechism]
Encore Post: In the Lutheran faith of the Reformation, we have the Absolution*. Like nose-blindness by the baker in his kitchen, we don’t always hear it with great joy. The spoken words of forgiveness are the sweetest sound in the ears of a Christian.
* (This post was inspired by a comment from Rev. Bryan Wolfmueller at his presentation for the Lutheran Writer Round-Up at Faith Lutheran High School of Central Texas on 09 Feb 2024)
“What is confession?” Confession has two parts. First, that we confess our sins, and second, that we receive absolution, that is, forgiveness, from the pastor as from God himself, not doubting, but firmly believing that by it our sins are forgiven before God in heaven. (SC 5.1)
For the Romanists (Roman Catholics, Eastern Rite Catholics, Western Rite Orthodox, and the like), absolution exists privately. The penitent must confess. Also, there’s an exchange rate. (Contrition + Penance = a Narrow Absolution) The absolution in this exchange is only available for the specific sins confessed and only if the penance is done correctly. It’s limited. It’s uncertain.
Evangelicals (Baptists, Reformed, Anabaptists, and the like) flatly reject verbal absolution. They’ll sometimes pop off, “only God can forgive sin.” This position doesn’t stand up against scripture as cited at the end of this article. They have strong preaching and teaching of forgiveness. But there’s no actual delivery. Worse, there’s a limited forgiveness for the “saved.” The concept of “backsliding” and the practice of rebaptism flow from that limitation of God’s grace.
Episcopalians & Anglicans, who lean heavily towards Rome, have a thing like the public absolution. Their assurance of forgiveness is not an actual absolution. Without verbally forgiving sin, the certainty is taken away.
The Enthusiasts (Pentecostals, Holiness Churches, AME Churches, and the like) look inside themselves for assurance. Their certainty rests upon feeling forgiven and demonstrating a zeal in the faith. Without emotional zeal and a feeling of forgiveness, there’s only hopelessness or uncertainty. With the internal zeal, there’s just pride.
Progressive Christians (including many denominations, but encompassing the whole of the ELCA) live in a psycho-social theology. Internally, they’ll embrace a notion that I just have to “Forgive myself.” Externally, they’ll reject the details of God’s Law, citing unkindness, racism, or colonialism. For the progressive, there is a new Law with ever-changing names (Political Correctness, Progressivism, Critical Theory, Wokeness, or whatever term comes next). Forgiveness for me, but not for thee. Or, I don’t even need forgiveness. Like the medieval saintly system, the New Law accepts penance/atonement only from you. Set things right by being an ally and fighting the close-minded Christians.
Naturally, the pagans (Muslims, Jews, Mormons, Polytheists, Spiritualists, and the like) don’t get it either. They are trying to balance the scales even harder. Only Christianity features a God who comes to us. Only in the Lutheran church do we find the absolution spoken for you. Pastor speaks as he is commanded in the stead and by the command of Jesus. Yes, a man can forgive sins.
Pastor doesn’t forgive by his own power, ability, or volition. He does it in the stead and by the command of God. He’s following orders given, like a servant does. “When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; If you withhold forgiveness from any, it is withheld.’” (John 20:22-23) “Truly, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you lose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” (Matthew 18:18)
Pastors, faithful pastors, Lutheran pastors, forgive the sins of penitent sinners. It’s an inescapable demand of their office. God has given us this gift for our certainty, confidence, and comfort.
[Fifty-First in a series of posts on Martin Luther’s Small Catechism]
At first, it seems like a strange question to ask — even the wrong question to ask. Since Baptism is God’s work to save us, why wouldn’t we want to be baptized? There are several reasons this issue comes up. The first arose during the Reformation. The Anabaptist movement believed that children are innocent and that God does not hold them accountable until a later age. The Augsburg Confession (Article Nine) and the Apology of the Augsburg Confession (Article Nine) firmly reject this argument (more in a later post on infant baptism).
The other reason is that in this sinful world, sometimes people die without being baptized. Lutheran theologians answer the question by saying Baptism is necessary but not absolutely necessary for salvation. Baptism is necessary because God commands us to baptize and to be baptized. (Matthew 28:18-20, Acts 2:37-38) Jesus tells us that you cannot enter the kingdom of God if you are not born of water and the Spirit. (John 3:5) Yet the Scripture is very clear that the preaching of the Gospel also is a means of grace, which creates faith (Romans 10:14-17), forgives sins, and brings everlasting life. (Romans 1:16)
So, God’s word can save, even when the opportunity for a Christian to be baptized has not come. But God is so rich in his mercy that he gives his grace over and over again, in the form of the preaching of the Gospel, the baptizing of his children, and in the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper and in Absolution. Each means brings forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation in its own way, providing us with certainty that we are God’s own and will live with him forever. We refuse them at our own peril, for God gives them to us for our good and strengthening in the face of the assaults of the world, devil, and our sinful desires. While God requires us to do so, so they are necessary, it is more that we get to enjoy these blessings.
