The Smell of an Old Wineskin

Luther’s understanding of the law developed from the way Paul speaks of it in contrast with the gospel, particularly in Romans and Galatians. In this context, Paul does not so much describe the law by what it is is, but by what it does. The law accuses, binds, condemns, curses, terrifies, and kills. The gospel acquits, frees, saves, blesses, comforts and brings to life. In this dialectic, Luther saw the law and the gospel as necessary opposites, but with the law always hand-maiden to the gospel - never the other way around.

In the Lutheran confessions, Melanchthon described the accusatory function of the law with the latin phrase lex semper accusat (the law always accuses) and Lutheran theologians have thence referred to this function as the “semper”. So now we have the simul and the semper. Both are necessary to understand Luther - and all the weeping and gnashing of teeth over the third use of the law.

The semper fits properly with the first and second uses of the law, both of which confront me as a sinner, whether Christian or not. First, it always (semper) demands and threatens, thus bringing about some level of restraint, civic righteousness and moral behavior. This promotes a peaceful society, but cannot reconcile me to God. So the law continues to always (semper) accuse and condemn me. It does not remove my guilt, but rather magnifies it - making me always (semper) more aware of my sin, shame and broken relationship with God. And so comes the second use of the law - to dramatize my need for help beyond the law, namely the Savior who fulfilled the law for me and takes away my guilt (the gospel).

Now, however, when I come to the third use, the semper does not fit. In Christ, the new me is fully clothed in the righteousness of Christ. I am no longer subject to the coercion or accusation of the law. So is the semper no longer semper? Has the law changed? No, it continues to accuse - but it accuses Christ. So Christ became guilty, was condemned and crucified. And thus Christ became the end of the law for me.

In view of the cross, I live as the new me and the semper does not apply. Nothing can accuse me or shame me or condemn me. In this new me, I can (by faith) come to the law and delight in it. It is no longer a threat. However, I am not convinced that this is necessarily the point of the new me. In the righteousness of Christ, a return to the Ten Commandments (minus the semper) seems strangely anticlimactic. I think there’s more to it.

What of the possibility that the moral law was indeed fulfilled in Christ and now the “law of Christ”, the “walking in the spirit”, the “fruits of the spirit” - all this is something entirely new - something way different from perfect obedience to moral law - or law of any kind?

The first two uses of the law no doubt continue in effect for the old me. But (to the new me) the third use smells a bit like an old wineskin.

Now What? Moral Progress?

Luther’s simul (simultaneously sinner and saint), according to Forde, eliminates the notion of moral progress, even (or should we say, especially!) for the Christian. This, in turn, also eliminates the notion of the so-called 3rd use of the Law (which I will describe and discuss at another time). These are two of the major theological flash-points which I think make Luther so radical and his theology so unpopular. It is where Forde’s idea of a more radical Lutheranism parts company not just with popular Catholicism and Evangelicalism, but also, it would seem, with modern-day Lutheranism.

So what is this really all about? It is about the so-called “Christian life” or the doctrine of sanctification. It is about the “Now what? question. I am a Christian saved by grace, now what am I to do? Well, the Christian bookstores are filled with ideas, as are almost all Christian Bible study guides, Sunday morning sermons, and so, we might think, the Bible itself.

But for Forde, the Biblical teaching regarding sanctification can only be understood in terms of a completed justification through faith in Christ, and Paul’s simul found in Romans 7. Thus the believer’s state of being righteous by grace is total and cannot be improved on by us. And the believer’s state of being unrighteous is also total, and similarly cannot be made better by us, since it has been crucified with Christ and is dead. So our righteousness is total and our unrighteousness is total - all at the same time. In such a state of affairs, there is no movement from one to the other possible.

This simul is difficult to come to grips with. We would prefer the idea of movement, and our human effort in cooperating with that movement. We take to the idea of spiritual disciplines, buckling down and somehow growing. We enjoy the psychological rewards that come from seeing at least some improvement. Even our failures encourage us - just try harder next time. We have no problem giving God half the credit, because certainly it would not happen without him. But it certainly also would not happen without us. That just seems logical, and even Biblical.

But the Bible does not so much talk about our progress as it talks of absolutes. And the absolutes confront us in ways that make a mess of our talk of progressive sanctification. We read such things as “The one who practices sin is of the Devil.” (I John 3:8) Here we must invent different levels of sin (willful and unwilful) in order to deflect the passage away from us and on to someone else. It does not fit a scheme of Christian moral improvement. Or how about “Pray without ceasing.” (I Thess. 5:17) Praying 99% of the time falls short of the mark. What makes us feel satisfied with slight progress here? What would be the Biblical basis for gritting our teeth and aiming at a mere 50%?

The simul, which grants us the perfect righteousness of Christ from the moment we are justified through faith, and yet also acknowledges the continuing full wretchedness of our sinful nature (of the devil), seems to bring passages like this to life. They are not just theoretical concepts or goals, but the actual reality of our everyday life, and there is no need to interpret the life out of them. They can be allowed to mean precisely what they say.

But what are the practical implications of such a way of being and thinking? If the simul were really true, are we not still confronted with the question of “Now what?” If moral progress and spiritual growth are no longer necessary. what are we to do? Luther answers this question, I think, in his doctrine of vocation - an area which I have yet to study in much detail and which seems too often overlooked in the church, perhaps because it seems too earthly. But earth happens to be where we live, and, given the state of the nation (and others), it would not seem that difficult to find a job that needs doing, and just do it. Such a simplistic sanctifiction theology could put the Christian bookstores out of business, but it might be worth the risk.

Little Miss Sunshine

In somewhat the same class as “Napoleon Dynamite” (with an entirely different style) some will find this movie stupid and offensive, and even not all that funny, if indeed it was even meant to be a comedy. But I liked it. Enough to root for it as Best Movie of 2006, though I haven’t seen the other four nominees, so my endorsement may not mean much.

The movie portrays the human experience of aspiration, failure, conflict, love, hate and redemption in such a freshly odd mix that I found myself wondering why I so quickly liked each and every character, in spite of themselves. I need to see the movie a second time to perhaps find out. In that respect (for me) the movie is actually a mystery. What was it about each of these characters that made them so lovable? It certainly wasn’t their humanity. Or was it? There are clues throughout the movie, but even the ending does not clearly offer up the answer. The answer is somewhere else. It is somewhere in me.

The writers went out of their way to try to offend most Christian moral sensibilities, capping off the attempt with the teen-age son who wears the T-Shirt proclaiming “Jesus Was Wrong.” I’m sure we will start to see more of those in the mall, alongside “Vote for Pedro.” In spite of that, I found Christian websites that recommend the movie, with, of course, all the obligatory warnings.

What does this have to do with Luther or theology? Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. When in doubt, I can justify discussing almost anything under the category of Luther's simul, which is the starting point for discovering all the paradoxes of human behavior. Recognition of the simul may also be one key to accepting others as God accepts us. And this (I suspect) has much to do with solving the mystery of this movie.

Misunderstood Imperatives

One of the great problems of Biblical interpretation (and theology) involves the precise nature of Biblical commands, specifically noting the difference between Gospel commands such as “repent, believe, trust, etc.” and commands of the moral Law, such as “Thou shalt have no other Gods” or “Honor your father and mother.”

Whether to recognize this distinction (or not) was one of the major points of contention between Erasmus and Luther when they debated our ability (or inability) to contribute to our own conversion. In his Diatribe, Erasmus argued that God would not give a command that we did not have the wherewithal to accomplish. So, if God commanded us to “Believe”, then we must certainly have within us at least some small ability to get the job done. Luther of course disagreed, setting forth his argument with great passion and force in the “Bondage of the Will.”

I recently ran across Prof. John Schaller’s essay “God’s Will and Command” (1915). In this essay, Schaller explores in some detail the nature of the Gospel imperative and how it differs from the commands of God’s moral law. Stated briefly, Schaller argues that we must think of these commands given under grace as having within them the enabling power of God’s will. They can indeed produce what they command, without our assistance. Thus the command to “Repent” is like the command Jesus spoke to Lazarus, “Lazarus, come forth.” Although Lazarus did indeed obey the command (dead as he was), no one would claim that Lazarus had within him the ability to do so. The power to obey came from Jesus. In other words, God willed him to will what he willed. Bottom line - Lazarus could take no credit for his obedience, just as we can take none for our faith.

What I found most helpful in Schaller’s essay was his use of the simul - how the old me will continually react badly to Gospel imperatives as though they were Law, even though the new me knows better. This explains why I so often have a legalistic reaction to such commands.

"Man by nature stands under the Law, as Paul states it in Gal. 4:3 in so many words…. He hears God's will and command that he should repent, be converted, and believe in Christ. All this he presumes to understand, because what is said appears as imperatives. But not only does the true thought-content of God's commands remain incomprehensible to him, but he also does not notice that here is an imperative which in its nature is entirely unfamiliar to him. Therefore the imperative form evokes from him only wrong notions and thoughts. He regards these commands as new demands made upon him, of the kind that have always plagued and made him unhappy. And because he seems to have the freedom of choice, he sets himself against these demands and formulates with more or less clarity the reason for his refusal to obey.

...

What, however, is true of the nature and character of the unregenerate, that also still clings to the regenerate, because he carries the old nature with him alongside the new man. While his ears and eyes have been opened so that he sees the wonders of grace and understands the Word of the cross for his salvation, and he also rests his faith on this Word, he nevertheless has learned all this as a new language, which he appropriates completely only gradually; and his thoughts move about in this new environment or sphere of understanding with more or less helplessness.

...

In every Christian there remains a rather large remnant of legalistic thinking. Because this new way of thinking has not yet taken complete hold of the Christian's flesh and blood, it will happen that in his thinking he will, without being aware of it, enter upon and follow legalistic paths, which should long ago have been done away with, until it dawns upon him with consternation that he has gone astray. So it becomes understandable to us why not only in the Reformed Church, but also among Lutherans much legalistic thinking and application of God's Word has from time to time come to light. Here again the misunderstood imperatives are seen in action. Instead of understanding them as addressed to the new man, who has been freed from the Law, one falls back into the way of thinking of the old man and converts the evangelical, creative commands of God into moral precepts, the fulfilling of which God's righteousness requires."
- John Schaller, God’s Will and Command (1915)

Schaller’s essay made me want to reread the New Testament to find all those misunderstood imperatives - those that may indeed carry with them the creative will and enabling power of God - addressed to the new me under grace, not the old me under law. In addition to repent and believe, perhaps the Gospel imperatives include more than even Schaller dared consider - like seek, come, walk, avoid, give, rejoice, pray, go, love, etc.

At the same time, I wonder how we are to preach these imperatives without conveying the spirit of the Law, burdening people with just so much more to do - along with the accusation, guilt and curse that comes with the failure to do it. It seems to me that we must be very careful here, because my old me is still very active and seems to pick up on all such talk as just additional demands, impossible to carry out.

The Simul

The old me rationalizes himself out of his troubles. He hears the Law and sees his salvation. He tames it first, to make it doable (at least for him, if not for those of weaker stuff). He redefines obedience and perfection in his own image - what is reasonable for him. Then he uses it to medicate his own guilt, salve his own conscience. He can do the Law. Just follow the program. Self-will, self-discipline, self-control, self-improvement - all will lead him ultimately to self-righteousness - and he will be ok with God and his fellow man. His troubles will be over.

On the other hand, the unconditional Gospel confronts the old me and causes him grief. He cannot believe that his valiant efforts are not needed, his sacrifices useless, his righteousness as filthy rags, his cooperation a sham, his faith a gift. Everything is already finished, done, accomplished. Someone else came and did his salvation business for him. This wrecks his self-esteem, turns him into nothing, defeats his purpose in life, kills his ambitions, crushes his ego, makes all things meaningless. What is the point of living now? There is nothing left to do, to think, to feel. He senses himself dying, and fights for life, as he understands life to be - the only life he knows. He sees only one option. He must fight against this Gospel. This Gospel must be silenced, compromised, watered down or ignored.

In his struggle to survive, the old me grabs for the most powerful weapon he has. He grabs the Law of God. He uses the Law as a weapon against the Gospel. He elevates it above the Gospel. He has to. The Gospel is killing him. The Law is his only defense. If it fails him, he will surely die. And that is exactly what happens. It is not a quick and painless death. It is a slow death that lasts a lifetime. The old me was as good as dead from the moment the Gospel told him so. But he fights on, oblivious, unconvinced and unconverted. He will never admit defeat. That is why he continues to vex me, and why he must eventually be put to physical death. In my physical death, the final victory of the new over the old will be complete. The old man will be gone, annihilated, never to be seen, heard or felt again. The new me, the true recreated one, will live on.

But this new man, the “me” who is born from above, is a present reality from the moment the old man is crucified with Christ. Without the new me, there would be no hope for me at all. The new me is the real deal, my true identity, a new creation of God. This me does not need self- esteem, because this me has the esteem of God. This me does not wonder about the will of God - my will and God’s are one, in Jesus. This new me thinks, acts and loves in harmony with the God who (re)created him and gave him life. He is a perfect re-creation of what God intended, because he is in Jesus. The new me is patient, kind, does not envy, does not parade itself, is not puffed up, does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil, does not rejoice in iniquity, rejoices in the truth, bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. The new me never fails.

This new me is not a puppet on a string any more than Jesus was a puppet of the Father. This me is a unique person of God’s own design - incomprehensibly one with God in Jesus, and yet still a separate person who loves and is loved. He is not a god, but he is in the image of God - just as his first parents were made in the image of God.

Like the first Adam, this new me has no sin. But this new me is superior to the first created Adam in a most important way. This new me, because he is in Jesus (the Last Adam), will not ever sin. This new me has the mind of Christ, and Christ has the will of the Father. So the Father’s will, through Jesus, is now my will. And this will, and the faith to believe it, is actually mine. It is gifted to me for no reason other than God wants to gift it. God loves me in spite of my old me, which is hopelessly lost and beyond repair.

So where exactly is this new me? I don’t often sense him or feel him. I would have to say that I don’t even know him. I can’t even imagine him. He would have to be so vastly different from the old me that I’m not sure I would recognize him if he showed up. If he did show up, I fear I would not even like him. Does he stay completely hidden within me? Does he ever reveal himself to me or others? Am I to think of myself as two people - the good me and the bad me? Or am I to think of myself as one person in two parts - the greater part evil, and some tiny (hopefully growing) part that me is pure and good? If there is truly an old me and a new me, who on earth am I?

This doctrine is ridiculous!

Ah, there it is - the logical mind of the old me at work, fighting for life. The old me is always recognizable. He is the one who will question the existence of the new me, for the new is the death of the old. The new me is recognizable only by faith. And here is the secret to recognizing the new me. Just as I cannot see the Father, except by looking at the Son, so I cannot see the new me, except by looking at the Son. For the new me and Jesus are one. I cannot dig down deep into myself to find the new me. It is pointless to look for the new me in my own thoughts, feelings, words or works - for all those can so easily be counterfeit - the old me, dressed up in self-righteousness, fighting for survival.

The only way to see the new me is in Jesus, and him I can see only through the eyes of faith. This faith is given and nourished by the Holy Spirit through the message of grace (the Gospel). Thus the grace message becomes a mirror that reflects the new me. Just as the Law is a mirror that shows me the utter sinfulness of the old me (even when I am being good), so the Gospel is a mirror that shows me the glorious righteousness of the new me (even when I am being bad). It does this by showing me Jesus (Christ in me). The Gospel shows me the Jesus who was born for me, lived for me, was crucified for me, rose again for me and then gave me the faith to believe on Him. Through these divine acts in history past, and by the power of the Holy Spirit in history present, Jesus created the new me to live forever in history future. I can gaze upon the new me any time I want, simply by holding up the Gospel mirror. There is no evidence of outward works or inner thoughts that could confirm the existence of the new me more powerfully than the Gospel proclamation, for it is the promise of God himself.

This, briefly, is my interpretation of Luther's doctrine of simul iustus et pecator - we are simultaneously saint and sinner. Lutheran theologians sometimes affectionately refer to this as - The Simul.