Why Are Lutherans Bad at Good Works?
A couple of weeks ago, a group of pastors gathered at a regional conference were confronted with the oft repeated axiom that Lutherans are ‘moral quietists.’ They’re not seen as engaging in the critical works that society needs. Perhaps they’re not demonstrably making a difference in bringing the housing crisis to an end. They’re not doing enough for the homeless, the migrants, and other marginalized groups. Perhaps they’re not fighting hard enough against the movements of social Marxism, on the one hand, or Darwinian-inspired racial bigotry on the other. We’re told that the rest of the churches see us as politically and socially irrelevant. In their eyes our spirituality is weak, if not totally dead.
Perhaps you can begin to understand the panicked desire on the part of church leaders to do more to justify ourselves in the eyes of politicians, the press, and the academy.
For my part, I’ve become convinced that this accusation against our lack ‘good works’ is a clever plot on the part of the devil to make Lutherans doubt the validity of their saving faith. He wants us to compare our lives against the outspoken voices on social media or against the activists that appear in our news feeds and wonder if we’ll endure as well as they will on the day of judgment.
As a pastor, I have a privileged view of the more private, spiritual aspects of peoples’ lives. They come to me for advice or perhaps they ask me to help with prayers. One thing I’ve learned is that our saints have taken seriously Jesus’ command, “Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret” (Matthew 6:3). With utmost seriousness they keep the Lord’s admonition, “So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty” (Luke 17:10).
Tutored in the ways of the the flesh’s weakness and warned against pride, they’re far more comfortable confessing their sins then they are cataloguing their accomplishments. Their worship isn’t about heaping up their works for the world and God to see, but saying, “God, be merciful to me a sinner” (Luke 18:13)! It is my joy and privilege as a pastor to declare God’s judgment of “justified” to them for Christ’s sake alone.
The true worship of faith wrestling with despair discounts the reality of God-pleasing works being accomplished because they know their flesh has tainted their motives or their strength to do more has failed them. And yet, from their faith that tenaciously clings to Christ for salvation comes the most marvelous acts of selfless love I’ve ever seen. No one will hear about it. They’ll never post about it on social media and they’ll keep themselves from talking about it with even their closest family and friends. If they do, they feel shame. Nevertheless, their works are real. They glorify God and help their neighbors in need. I’m sure Christ’s words will be fulfilled on the last day when they hear with prophesied surprise, “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me” (Matt. 26:35-36).
Perhaps part of the problem comes down to the works which actually matter to God are considered worse than useless in our society.
Luther offers sage advice when commenting on Sarah’s modest virtue in Genesis 18.
“This life is profitably divided into three orders: (1) life in the home; (2) life in the state; (3) life in the church. To whatever order you belong - whether you are a husband, an officer of the state, or a teacher of the church - look around you, and see whether you have done full justice to your calling and there is no need of asking to be pardoned for negligence, dissatisfaction, or impatience. But if you have conducted your affairs in such a manner that there is no need of saying: “Forgive us our trespasses,” then by all means go out into the desert and occupy yourself with those showy and difficult works” (LW 3:217).
There’s nothing embarrassing about thankless works in the home, in the state, or in the church… at least from God’s perspective. Luther goes on to point out the many fine, admirable works commended to us by monasticism (both ancient/religious and modern/secular varieties) are worse than useless. They’re spiritually harmful and wreck faith. Instead of letting love be defined by the humble keeping of the ten commandments in the home, in one’s duty to the state, or in preaching, our flesh seeks out works better suited to our affections and feelings rather than obedience to God’s Word. Living in seclusion might keep you from sinning against your neighbor, you think. But it robs you of the opportunity to life a quiet life in the home of obeying your elders or keeping the kids fed and put to bed on time. The world shouts that the wife’s domestic estate is a prison. It has convinced women, young and old, that nothing worse can happen to them then to get stuck at home with kids. But what the world calls a prison, God calls the cradle of all love and good works. In the same way, a brother pastor can quickly become convinced that his humdrum preaching of Law and Gospel isn’t solving any of his communities’ social ills. He, therefore, gives himself over to the axiom ‘deeds not creeds’ and begins to multiply ‘ministries’ to justify himself to a socially conscious congregation or the surrounding activistic community. But what greater honor does Christ give than to the preaching of the Word which alone is able to save souls (Mark 16:15)?
No, we’re not going to do the humble works of the ten commandments within the estates of the home, state, and church perfectly, which is why Luther says we shouldn’t let ourselves get distracted with strange works valued by the fallen world. The ten commandments give each person more than enough to concern themselves with, no matter where God has him in life. God has commanded them and who are we to ignore him? So, in repentance, we daily pray “forgive us our trespasses,” and with quite diligence throw our backs back into our various callings as mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, workers, managers, teachers, and ministers.
No one is going to see what you’re doing. Maybe your kids will say ‘Your a great Dad!’ But maybe they won’t. But since when has praise been the point?
Even if you yourself can’t see the good God is doing through your humble obedience to the ten commandments, then at least believe Christ’s promise, “Your Father who sees in secret will reward you” (Matthew 6:4). His eyes are better than ours. God be praised and to him be the glory!