Hold Fast

In Luther’s day, the printing press carried the gospel throughout Europe in a way that had not previously been possible. It can and has been argued that Luther would have just been another John Wyclif or Jan Huss without this new technology. His reforming ideas, his 95 Theses, though sorely needed, might still be hanging on the door of the castle church, waiting for some other monk or professor to debate Luther. And there it might have ended, just another academic debate in the university. This happened often enough back then; still does today.

But some of Luther’s brighter students removed the 95, not out of concern for Dr. Luther, but because they knew what was nailed to the door of the church in Wittenberg. For semesters, those students had been sitting under Luther’s teaching in the classroom. They were waiting for something more than mere academics and ideas. Luther had lit a fire in his students chests. They wanted to see it spread to others.

So, they removed the 95 from the castle church door and translated them from the Latin of academia into common German, then took Luther’s propositions for reforming the church to a printer. Within two weeks, the 95 had spread across Germany. And within two months, they were being read throughout all of Europe. The rest is history.

But history can become more stale than academics. We somewhat celebrate our Reformation heritage today. We have a special Sunday. On that Sunday, less than half our membership shows up in red and has a group photo taken. As a result, far less than half of our youth receive training in the Catechism, something all parents promised they would do for their children at their baptisms.

So, I am here this morning to warn you. We are in danger of losing that uniquely Lutheran edge to the Reformation if we gathered here today will not hold fast to the traditions we have been taught.

Let us pray. There is a bright future for your church, Lord God, even for the Lutheran Church in the United States, and certainly here at St. Paul’s. Help us to stand fast and hold to the biblical traditions that have been handed down to us so that we may obtain the glory of Jesus Christ and have something to hand on to our children and grandchildren. Amen.

I have read in the Epistle and heard from some of you about how we used to have hundreds of children and adults enrolled in Sunday School at St. Paul’s. Today, we can tell you how many attended classes on Sunday mornings; it averages 80-something. But I don’t think anyone could tell you how many are enrolled in our Sunday School or what being enrolled even means or how one goes about being enrolled. But we still long for the good old days when the place was swarming with kids—and adults. Those days are over. Those days happened here because our houses were swarming with kids and we all lived close to home, and to the homes of the rest of our families and the church.

Now, so many of our kids move away, taking their small families with them. The folks who come to church these days do not come in big old cars packed to the gills with unbuckled kids squeezed into the back seat. Many come with just one person in the car. Hard to have a capacity Sunday School that way.

It’s just the way it is today. We aren’t having as many kids. At the time St. Paul’s was founded, the average American home was nine persons. My grandmother was sibling to ten other kids. All of them went to church. My parents, a generation later, had four kids. All of them went to church. Susan and I had two children and our children average 1½ children. And that’s the average American family size today: 3.51 persons. Again, it’s hard to populate your Sunday School with these smaller families.

So, if you want a bigger Sunday School, I suppose you could start having more kids again. But is that really the answer to fuller classrooms and sanctuaries?

I don’t mean to paint a bleak picture this morning. In fact, I mean to celebrate just the opposite. God has blessed us with something special here. So many traditional churches do not enjoy what we have here. How many churches have their chancel steps loaded with children like we do? Not many is my guess. And it’s not really a guess. I see photographs of children’s messages on Facebook and church websites. I hear other pastors talk. Church just is not the way it used to be. But in some ways, church here at St. Paul’s is very much like it used to be. If feels here today like the Lutheran church I grew up in back in Ohio 60 to 70 years ago. (I’m not saying exactly how many years.)

Kids are not the only way God has blessed us. Last Sunday we were one shy of 200 in worship. Unless you’re one of those big box churches who have lured away so many of the traditional churches’ people, your church probably enjoys a quarter to a third of what God has given us here. In fact, the average Sunday attendance in the US—even with those big box churches’ numbers counted—is 65.

65.

So, when we lament that church isn’t the way it used to be, we mean to say there’s not as many people. Folks, that’s the least of how the church isn’t the way it used to be. At least, it’s the least of how the church should be. Let’s look at today’s lessons to gather some insight.

What do we want more than anything—not just as a congregation but as individuals? What drives you? What are you thinking about as soon as you rise in the morning? What is the thread that runs through your day? I heard our new Service Coordinator exclaim at the Annual Gathering that we Lutherans should be carrying around our catechisms in our pockets every day—or better, carrying them around in our heads and hearts. It is the aim of the church that all our people see the importance of the Ten Commandments, the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed, and the Sacraments, and be able to rely upon them every day when our sins weigh upon us.

Do we, like Moses, want to see God’s face? I know of no better way to stare into glory than to wake up in the morning and open God’s Book, then to come back to him throughout the day as the Holy Spirit brings his Word back to our memories. Morning Prayer and Vespers have been particularly beneficial along these lines because now I am talking about God’s Word with others who are reading the same things in the Bible.

It’s good to have a common thing to talk about that isn’t just a favorite team, or how the crops are doing, or what politician is messing up whatever—or our favorite national pastime, talking about what ails us or our latest doctor’s appointment. Indeed, we need to be talking about a shared life in God’s Word because there are many deceivers out there.

Heresy or false teaching abounds on social media and elsewhere on the Internet. But it can also show up in Sunday School classes and even in sermons. I once heard of a pastor who was telling his flock that he was God. Being vigilant against such deceit can sometimes be as easy as comparing what you read and hear to the Apostles’ Creed. Other cases require careful inquiry in God’s Word. Whatever we do, we must stand firm, holding to those doctrines taught by the apostles—and by our parents and grandparents, if we are so blessed. 

But how can the Lutheran church do that when millions of Lutherans are being taught wrongly and are being led into what many of us consider apostasy, leaving biblical teaching for the latest alphabet soup of American culture. In many of our churches, the authority of Scripture has been all but left behind for cultural norms and societal ethics. This happens when the authority of Scripture has first, been abandoned in the home, in the individual life.

When our commitment to the primacy of God’s Word, Sola Scriptura, gives way, then how we are saved crumbles away, just as we have seen over the past 50 years. Many so-called Lutheran pastors would say we are not longer saved by grace through faith, but through a secular redemption of social-normed works and beliefs.

These are the biggest deceivers within Lutheranism but there are many other deceivers outside our ranks who would have us trust in wealth, health, and happiness as the primary goals of faith. The prosperity gospel is particularly attractive to those who want to be spoon-fed by their television sets or computer screens instead of opening the Book. This leads to fearing financial loss, not the sovereignty of the Almighty. It leads to loving the bottom line more than the Most High God. It leads to trusting self instead of God.

Christ’s kingdom does not progress through these distractions, these heresies or even downright apostasies, but through the work of the Holy Spirit in the Church’s devotion to faithfully baptize and teach the Gospel of Jesus Christ. There are many other distractions too. I dare to say that the reasons we do not bring our children to church every Sunday would have been laughable not more than a generation ago.

It’s a question of priority. What do you really want? Or a more important question would be, what does God really want for you? Is that what you want? Is it what St. Paul’s wants?

If we do not hold fast to what we have been taught, we at St. Paul’s could be a generation away from being just like so many other Lutheran churches. The fire of the Reformation could die out here and throughout America but it will need to first, be quenched in our hearts at St. Paul’s. The church is always in need of reforming, perhaps now more than ever. May we continue to use the printing press and now, the Internet, to spread the gospel. And may we use, above all, our voices.

May God reform us and move us, like Moses, to hold fast to him, to fear, love, and trust in him above all else—above sports, above school, above hobbies, above television, and even, if necessary, above church or denomination.

Let us pray. Father, may the distractions of modern life fade away as we focus on you. We know that if we will stand firm with you, Lord, you will stand with us. May be hold fast to the faith once delivered to the saints of old. May we pass on that faith to our children and grandchildren. And may we all share with those saints in eternal glory, being children of the resurrection, equal to the angels in immortality. Amen