October 31, 1517, Martin Luther nailed 95 Theses to the door of the Castle Church at Wittenberg. The things he wrote were not all new ideas, but they would go a long way toward influencing the growth of the Church for the next 500 years. The Germans of Wittenberg will proudly tell you that the reformation began here on this very spot. The Germans of Catholic Bavaria would rather not talk about him at all. In Switzerland, one is reminded that the reformation began in earnest in Geneva at the hands of Jean Calvin and Ulrich Zwinglii. A case can be made that the reformation of the 16th century began in the thoughts and ideas of previous centuries, written and argued by such men as John Wycliffe, Jan Hus, and even Augustine. But it is difficult to deny the significance of what happened in Wittenberg.
This October 31 we found ourselves in Germany and figured there was no better day to make our long anticipated journey to Wittenberg – to visit the location where Luther taught, preached, presented the 95 Theses, ranted against the selling of indulgences, and generally confronted Rome in every way. This is where Luther happened. It is the place that I have longed to visit since I first heard the story of what he did here. That desire only increased when we found out we were moving to Germany.
Every year when I delivered this particular lecture to my students, I felt myself getting caught up in the emotion of what happened at Worms when Luther confesses, “Here I stand, I can do no other.” Of course, it wasn’t the proud, boastful words many would imagine. It was defeated words of a man enslaved to the truth. Knowing the consequence of his admission, he confessed (after asking for and being granted more time to consider his answer) that he believed the Bible to say these things, and that unless he could be persuaded by use of the Scriptures, he could not recant. Later in his life pride may have been an issue, but I don’t think so here. Here, in this moment, one sees a man who has succumbed to the conviction of the inerrancy of God’s Word. He believed what he read. As Abraham believed God. And Joseph. And Paul. And John. And Polycarp. Hudson Taylor. Jonathon Edwards. And so many others. We would be remiss to not set aside a time to remember them.
But, the reformation of the 16th century was not the reformation at all. It was a reformation. It was a further reformation of the one that began two thousand years ago when Christ began reforming the world to make it new again. That was and is the Reformation. And the Reformation Day that we celebrate, appropriately, on the Eve of All Saints Day is a reminder of all those who have gone before us to boldly and faithfully proclaim the truth of God before us. All of those who have labored in the service of God, both before and since the beginning of the great reformation. A reminder that the labor continues.
This is why Reformation Day and All Saints Day fit perfectly together. This is why we celebrate with a bigger Sabbath feast than normal. This is why our children write papers on past Saints that we share as part of our festivities. It is a reminder of the story that God is telling and the characters that He uses. Fittingly, this feast happens in the Fall … when summer is dying. The reminder that death comes in order that the world may be reformed. That soon all things will be made new, but for now we must die.
I love being able to discuss these stories with my children. I love that they were thrilled to make the long drive to Wittenberg. The annual festival in Wittenberg seems to have lost the focus on scripture over the past five centuries, but my children still enjoyed the medieval costumes and performers. Maybe some day my children will tell their children what it was like to visit Wittenberg on Reformation Day. Maybe my grandchildren will look to the end of October not as a time to dress up and ask for candy, but as that time when the holiday feasting begins. A celebration of God’s story. A reminder that Christ’s final victory is over death itself.
