p. 262 | Untitled article

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Third-day, October 8, 1867

CHARACTER OF LUTHER.

[The following spirited description of the character of one to whom the religious world owes so much, will be of great interest to those who in these days of error and false doctrine desire to emulate the character and virtues of the great Reformer, by boldly advocating reforms in doctrine and in Christian holiness.]

For three hundred years after the death of the Saviour, the glorious Gospel, which he gave to man, was promulgated by his faithful disciples in all simplicity. Notwithstanding the persecutions of Nero, and other Roman Emperors, the number of its adherents steadily increased. When Constantine became a professor of Christianity, the bitter persecutions ended, but instead of the pure, primitive love of the lowly Jesus, the cold formality and the heartless pomp of a state religion were introduced. About the fifth century, the Bishop of Rome assumed the supremacy which he has since arrogantly maintained. History records the gradual decay of the Roman Empire, and we are brought to the midnight of the dark ages. During its gloomy years the doctrines of Transubstantiation, Purgatory, Auricular Confession, Priestly Absolution, Papal Indulgences, Adoration of Saints, Worship of the Host, Monastic Seclusion, and Clerical Celibacy were successively admitted.

At the beginning of the sixteenth century superstition, and its companion, ignorance, held almost undisputed sway. This is admitted by the Italian Jesuit Bellarmine, who says, there was not at that time, “any knowledge of sacred literature, or reverence for divine things, or scarcely any religion remaining.”

The Mystics had beheld the corruptions of the church with sorrow; the Waldenses had contended for a purer faith; Wicliffe had opened the word of God in England; John Huss had nobly sealed with his own blood the truth he had preached; the vacillating Erasmus had written against the most prominent abuses; some few others had spoken more or less directly; yet, the Papacy could look down with scorn upon its opposers, and those that could not be brought over were speedily silenced by the headsman’s axe or the burning faggot.

At this period, when the power of the Pope appeared to be most strong, when the so-called heretics had been, it was thought, exterminated, and the great princes of the world were ready to acknowledge the claims of the Romish hierarchy; when the friends of the Papacy were perhaps congratulating themselves upon the possession of almost unlimited power; then, then it pleased God to raise up a man who should shake the Papal edifice from its foundation, and inflict on it an incurable wound. This instrument in the Lord’s hand was not one of the great ones of earth, as the world reckons greatness. No, God chooses “the foolish, the simple ones, to confound the wise.”

The reformer Zwingley was the son of a herdsman; Melancthon, the son of an armourer, and the subject of our sketch, MARTIN LUTHER, was the son of a poor miner.

Luther declared, “I am a peasant’s son, and my father, grandfather, and great grandfather were all common peasants.” Robust manhood, such as Luther’s, springs from plebeian loins.

In analyzing the mental character of Luther, the most superficial observer will not fail to notice his steadfastness,—his unalterable constancy and determination. This predominating characteristic of firmness made him resolute and inflexible, and led him to persevere in his work, as fast as the light was thrown upon his path, with a tenacity and a fixedness which displayed his indomitable courage and sturdy manliness. His enemies charge him with wavering and changing, but the variations they observe are not changes of character or of purpose; they are merely the modifications of his course rendered necessary by the fuller revelations of truth received, through a diligent study of the Scriptures, and the developments of the evils of the Romish Church. Luther was always true to his convictions of right, and if he ever advocated an error, it was in the belief that it was a truth. He held the doctrine of consubstantiation, which is scarcely more acceptable to Protestants now than transubstantiation, and, while satisfied of his error in this, yet we cannot but admire his faithfulness in courageously teaching what he believed to be true. Even Sir Wm. Hamilton, the Romanist, admits that Luther “never paltered with the truth.”

Many besides Luther had strong convictions of the fallacies of the Papal system, and the gross evils which it supported, but they were satisfied with uttering a feeble cry of warning, saying a word in opposition, or lamenting the wrongs in silence. Luther stands out from such in bold relief, because he had moral courage to act, and using at first, faithfully, his one talent, his Master entrusted him with many more. Whatever Luther believed to be true, he taught, not secretly, but publicly; and the truths he proclaimed were not withheld until he could dress them up to suit the popular taste, but enunciated with distinctness, force, and power, if not always with grace, purity and refinement.

But we observe in Luther unusual combinations of character. We have said that firmness was the leading trait in the character of the Saxon Reformer, but this firmness was exercised in combination with those faculties of mind, which, with intense power and force, gave him kindliness, sympathy, and desire for the happiness of all men.

Firmness, with pride and selfishness, gives the insane lust for rule, for mastery, dominion, and command; but firmness with true benevolence, with love for God and love for man, strengthened and vivified by a fiery soul, such as Luther’s, gave tremendous force and vitality to all his acts. Had he not worked out his design, the millions who now repeat the name of Luther with love and respect would not have even known that such a man had ever existed. Men of equal intellectual talent are numerous now, men of equal executive capacity, yet they are comparatively insignificant, because they lack the happy fusion of purpose and action—they lay out reforms on paper, as our speculators do town lots in the wilderness; or they attempt to construct a massive edifice without any definite design.

The source of the irresistible power of Luther was his acting out the truth. It was truth lived out. As the Lord poured into his mind larger and larger views of truth, instead of storing these in his memory for future use, he considered this would be equal to hiding the talent in the napkin, so he acted out his convictions for each day. Now, as unused power, be it that of a muscle or an intellectual endowment, is gradually lost, and used mental force creates new power, or rather prepares us for the reception of new power, and, as Luther was active, keeping every talent in use, allowing no rust to accumulate, we have in Luther a vastness of energy, and a sublimity of faith unapproached by ordinary men. Luther’s faith made him strong, Luther’s living according to that faith, made him unconquerable.

John Huss attacked the scandalous corruptions of the Papacy. Luther followed, denouncing not only the errors of life, but the doctrines of the Church. The one referred principally to its morals; the other leveled his blows at the foundation upon which the false edifice rested. Luther’s actions were not confined to mere denunciations; had they been, then he would not be worthy of the rank we give him, that of a true Reformer. The pseudo-reformer deals in condemnatory phrases; he censures existing institutions, but offers none better; he destroys the confidence of men in time-honored customs, but builds nothing valuable upon the ruin he makes. Luther aimed to overthrow the Papacy, yet he was no ruthless destructionist. He opposed the change of the ceremonies of the Church until the people desired the alterations. Reforms were not to be introduced until the people were prepared for them. He did this so consistently that some have said that he rather followed than led the reformatory movement. Luther was satisfied of the evils of image worship yet opposed the Iconoclasts, who destroyed them. He knew that breaking the Idol did not cure Idolatry, and that the true course was to preach the right faith, the reception of which would remove the idol from the heart.

Luther—a man of reflection, deep, earnest, intense thought; a man of words, the thoughts found appropriate utterance in a language of thrilling power; a man of action,—not concealing his light, but showing it prominently and conspicuously. In all this he approached the true ideal of the True man. No visionary doting over mere speculations. No wordy-radical, devoted merely to blustering talk. No revolutionist, tearing and trampling down the institutions of his country, without respect to the past, regard for the present, or penetration respecting the future. But a keen-witted, energetic reformer, insisting upon his own rights, but regarding the dues of others, aggressive, yet reasonable; excelling in force and surpassing in mental power, but not lacking in the more attractive elements of a noble nature, gentleness, sympathy, benevolence, love; such a blending of heart-wealth and intellectual greatness as gives us the truly heroic in life.

Other Reformers were willing to employ physical force to further their designs; Luther, true to his faith, in the guidance of the Heavenly Master, the Prince of Peace, deprecated all resort to the weapons of carnal warfare.

Thus fearless and truthful, he pursued the acquisition of knowledge, with ardent zeal, and propagated his views in spite of all opposition. We hold him up to view as a Christian Hero; not faultless, but with noble virtues so overshadowing all failings that in a grateful remembrance of his too-little-valued services we shall not dwell upon his errors.

The Papists take his works, and selecting out here and there an objectionable passage, they bring it forth prominently, and bid you gaze upon it. Considering that Luther published one hundred and thirty-three different treatises in one year, his errors do not appear to have been more numerous than weeds are in a well kept garden. Would you admire the taste of a man who should visit your grounds, and passing by a thousand flowers of glorious hue and refreshing fragrance, should gather a bunch of rank weeds, and bring them for your acceptance, saying, “What think you of the product of your garden?” Luther’s deficiencies and imperfections are as weeds growing in strong soil—we have no fancy for making a collection of them.

Carping critics may gloat over his errors, but had they lived in Luther’s day, think you they would have seen so much of truth; and if they should have perceived the right path, would they have had courage to pursue it, facing the dangers that he faced?

We say that Luther was a true Reformer. Consider for a moment what reform is. Re-form. Formed anew: changed from evil to good: cast in a new mould!! Now men must melt their metal before they can cast it; so must the true Reformer commence his labor by informing the minds of the people, and softening their hearts by enlarged views of truth and exhibitions of love. We need not quarrel about the mould, the form will represent the mind and heart of the people. If the form is not right, war not against the exterior but aim at the root—the source of the wrong. ’Tis Pharisaic to care so much for the outside; renovate the heart, then you shall find good fruit in the regenerate life, and the external will not merely look fair, but be really so.

The Rev. Dr. Cumming remarks on this subject, “Man’s constant prescription for the elevation of man is to alter his circumstances; God’s grand prescription for the improvement of man is to change his heart. Man’s plan is to give the patient a new bed; God’s divine plan is to give the patient health. Man goes to the circumference, and tries by civilizing to get inward and ultimately to Christianize; God’s plan is to begin at the centre, Christianize the heart, and then civilize the whole circumference of the social system.”

Let the illustrious example of the sturdy Saxon inspire each one of us to nobler life. Let us be animated

to deeds of heroism. Let each one determine that he will accomplish something for his kind, something for the human brotherhood. Let us not be so base as to daily use the measure of liberty which the Reformers worked to give us, without doing something ourselves to extend its dominion. Sneaking selfishness dictates a course of life which brings inglorious ease; but the Christian Hero wars for spiritual freedom, not for himself only, but for the whole brotherhood of Man.

The faint-hearted may learn from the life of Luther to seek for a faith which shall make them strong. Luther, with God, was stronger than Popes, Priests and Kings without God.

The Reformer did not shut himself up in seclusion to mope over the ills which appeared to be incurable, but contended for the truth, as he saw it, with manly vigor. His love of right was not a mere sentiment, but an inspiration brought out into life.

Luther lives in History. Germany claims him, but he belongs not exclusively to her—he lived for the great family of Man.

Carlyle says of Luther’s works in 24 quarto volumes, “They are not well written” (he speaks of their style), “but in no books have I found a more robust, genuine, I will say noble faculty of a man than in these. A rugged honesty, homeliness, simplicity, a rugged, sterling sense and strength. He flashes out illumination from him; his smiting idiomatic phrases seem to cleave into the very root of a matter.”

Richter says, “his words were half battles.” Bossuet, the talented Roman Archbishop tells us “he had a lively and impetuous eloquence, which charmed and led away the people.” Melanchthon said, “No writer ever came nearer St. Paul than Luther has done.”

Luther’s words were bright, cutting, keen—it requires a sharp lancet to open a foul ulcer.

Luther moved with power—might of intellect—might of will—could less force have shaken the dry bones of Romanism?

His course was brilliant; but ’twas not the glare of a meteor, flashing for awhile, then passing off into nothingness; but the course of a star, shining with brighter and brighter radiance, and still illuminating the world.