Calvary Lutheran Church

The God Who Answers by Fire - He Is God

May the God of peace fill you with all joy in believing. Amen.

1 Kings 18:24b

“The god who answers by fire—he is God.”

 My dear Christian friends:

            Sometime ago, almost 29 centuries in fact, a whole nation of people was told they had to make a choice. That nation was Israel, and their choice was this: either worship and serve the idol Baal and his female counterpart Asherah, or worship and serve the Lord God, the Jehovah God, sometimes called the “God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.”

            It wasn’t an easy decision to make, because there were many Baal prophets pressuring the people to worship Baal. One person, in particular, who wheedled a great amount of power, their very own king, Ahab, had already sided with Baal and was demanding his subjects to do the same. So Baalism had become the religion of the land. And the people were wavering between the two, not really devoted to one or the other. But now the time had come to bring them back to the Lord.

            So one prophet of the Lord by the name of Elijah proposed a contest, a test of strength if you will, between Baal and the Lord. The people were to assemble on Mt. Carmel. The prophets of Baal, who totaled 450, were to build an altar of stone, place wood on the altar and cut up a bull as a sacrifice on the wood. Elijah was to do the same. According to the rules of the contest the God that came down and consumed the bull and wood with fire would prove himself to be the true God whom the people should serve. And all the people said, “Yes, sounds good, let’s do it.” And you probably know what happened next.

            The prophets of Baal built their altar, placed wood and a bull on it and began to pray that both be consumed. Absolutely nothing happened. Elijah began to taunt them, “Shout lauder! Perhaps Baal is deep in thought, or busy, or traveling. Maybe he is sleeping and must be awakened” (1 Kings 18:27). So they did. In fact, they slashed themselves with swords until their blood flowed, hoping to gain the attention of Baal. Still nothing.

Now, it was Elijah’s turn. He built an altar of stone, laid some wood on it and a bull on the wood. He then had both soaked with water, three times. Not likely that the wood would start on fire by itself. He dug a trench around the altar and filled it with water and then prayed, “O Lord God, answer me so these people will know that you, O Lord, are God, and that you are turning their hearts back again to you” (1 Kings 18:17).

            Immediately fire fell from heaven. It burned up the bull, burned up the wood, burned up the stone altar, the soil around the altar and licked up the water in the trench. The people stood there shocked and stunned, and finally they fell to the ground and cried, “The Lord, he is God! The Lord, he is God!” They had made their choice.

            25 centuries later in the 1500’s AD, a very similar event took place. At that time in history many people of the nations of Europe were struggling for religious truth. They had been taught a great many doctrines and practices which in some ways were idolatrous. But these doctrines and practices were being supported by a great many priests and church leaders. It was the religion of the land. And one person in particular who wheedled a great amount of power and authority called the pope was demanding its practice.

            But the time had come to turn the people’s hearts back to God. One man by the name of Martin Luther proposed a reformation to give the people a choice, “Which God will you worship and serve—the god of punishment and penance and purgatory or the God of free and faithful grace.” I proposed to you this morning that the Lord God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, just as he did on Mt. Carmel 25 centuries earlier responded with fire. It was:

1. A fire which burned

2. A fire which purified

3. A fire which glowed

            Martin Luther was a man who early in his life was on fire inside, and I don’t mean a zealous kind of fire with much enthusiasm and energy; I mean a troubled, distressed kind of fire, the kind that can oftentimes destroy a man. It wasn’t that Martin Luther did not know God. Or, it wasn’t that he had no faith. No, Luther was born and raised in a typical Catholic home. He was instructed at the Catholic school. At every turn in Luther’s life, whether it was in the home or the school or, of course, the church, God’s presence was emphasized and his will recognized.

            But what kind of God was it that Luther came to know? Was it the God of the Bible, the God of free and faithful grace? Obviously not. I say “obviously” because while studying to be a lawyer, Luther still wasn’t sure he was saved. In fact, he was sure he wasn’t. Today we have children in Sunday school in this church who know they will someday be with Jesus in heaven. But Luther, as a college student and almost graduate, did not know the true gospel of complete and unconditional forgiveness and salvation through Christ Jesus. And not knowing that can be most disturbing. It can be like a fire burning inside.  

            He had to find some answers. So he quit law school and entered the Black Cloister of the local Augustinian Hermits where he became a monk to try to put out his burning fear for his soul’s salvation.

            But in the monastery the fire was not quenched, it was rather fueled even more. Because now he had time day and night to think about his sin and his guilt, and an angry God who punished both. That thought turned the fire into a blaze. And all the fasting and all the self-inflicted whipping and sleeping without a blanket in freezing weather, all the prayers and vigils and readings of church fathers could not quench it. It got so bad that one day when his confessor counseled him to love God, Luther burst out, “I do not love God! I hate him!”

            Now I ask you, where did that fire come from? Did Luther make it all up? Did he exaggerate his sin to a point of unreality? No one else in the monastery was acting this way. No one else was struggling with sin like Luther. Why him? Was it a psychological imbalance? Was he a manic depressive as the author John Osborne calls him? Where did this fire come from? The answer is it

came from God in his law. When viewed only from the perspective of his law, God is like a fire which burns in people’s consciences.

            From that perspective of the law, everything that Luther thought about his sin was absolutely true. Yes, Luther had sinned, no question about it, as we all do. The apostle John says, “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us” (1 John 1:8). And yes, God was angry at his sin just as he is with ours. God told the Children of Israel when he gave them the commandments that he is a jealous God. Jealous for what? Jealous for his commandments, that they be kept and kept perfectly. And when they are not, when one slip-up occurs, yes, God becomes as the writer to the Hebrews says “A consuming fire” (Hebrews 12:29).

            My fellow sinners, we would do well to remember that. Anyone in this church, either standing or sitting, whose conscience does not burn with the guilt of sin; anyone in this church who considers his sin as insignificant or non-existing and thereby intends to work out his own salvation by work-righteousness—by just being better than the next guy, or by just good clean living—had better know what Luther knew so well in his heart—that God hates every sin, and is like a consuming fire against those who commit it.

            No, Luther wasn’t crazy. He just carried the law of God to its proper logical conclusion, that is, total despair, helplessness, and hopelessness. That was God’s response in Luther’s life with a fire that burns.

            So how do you fight fire? The best way, sometimes the only way for big fires like Luther’s, is with fire. And God fought the fire in Luther that burned with the fire that purified.

            For Luther this fire which purified began to flicker while he was assigned to the chair of Biblical studies at Wittenberg University. While deeply engrossed in the study of the Scriptures he became fascinated and somewhat puzzled by the emphasis on “righteousness” in the Bible, especially Romans 1:17 which reads literally from the original Greek, “For in it (that is, in the gospel) a righteousness of God is revealed from faith to faith, as it is written: ‘The just will live by faith.’”

Now it was easy for Luther to understand this passage according to its separate parts. “The gospel,” of course, is the good news that Jesus suffered and died on a cross and rose again for the forgiveness of sins. “The righteousness of God,” of course, is his holiness, perfection, sinlessness. Yes, Luther could see the connection between the two. After all, it was the holy, perfect, sinless God, Christ Jesus, who hung and died on that cross. We can know this by faith.

            But now came the hard part, how do you connect this statement, with the rest of the passage, “The just shall live by faith.” How could Paul speak of Jesus’ righteousness in one breath and in the very next speak of people’s righteousness. There was no connection between the two as far as Luther knew. Jesus’ righteousness was the righteousness he earned by living a perfect life. Our righteousness, Luther thought, is obtained by living good lives and doing enough good works to finally please God enough to earn that forgiveness and take us to heaven, after all, that’s how the saints got there—the earned heaven by living super good lives. But those two righteousnesses were completely different. There was no connection between them. Was there?

            Then after several days of contemplating, it dawned on Luther. Instead of being the righteousness belonging to Jesus (genitive of possession), could it be, is it possible, does the Greek allow it to mean the righteousness from Jesus (genitive of source)? In other words, in the gospel is revealed the fact that Jesus’ righteousness, holiness, and sinlessness is actually given to us so, that we are declared righteous and holy and sinless by God and accepted by him for heaven. And it all comes to us through faith in Christ. Is that what it means?

            Yes, of course, that’s why Moses wrote in Genesis, “Abraham believed and it was credited to him as righteousness” (Genesis 15:6). That’s why Paul wrote to the Romans, “Now a righteousness from God, apart from the law, has been made known, to which the law and the prophets testify. This righteousness from God comes through faith in Christ Jesus to all who believe, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus” (Romans 3:21-24). That’s why the Psalmist wrote, “Rescue me and deliverer me in your righteousness, oh Lord, turn your ear to me and save me” (Psalm 71:2). Jesus’ righteousness is our righteousness. And there you have it—the doctrine of justification—the cornerstone of Luther’s Reformation and the doctrine adopted by all protestant faiths. With that teaching God responded in Luther’s life with a fire that purified his soul from sin.

            And the result was that God responded with a fire in Luther’s heart that glowed with the light of truth. With this rediscovered teaching, on October 31, 1517, Luther nailed his 95 theses on the castle church door in Wittenberg in protest of many of the practices of the church that had gone beyond and were contrary to the teaching of justification.

            On April 18, 1521, after being told to take back all he had written concerning the abuses of the church Luther said,

“Unless I am convinced by the testimony of the word of God or by clear and overpowering reason, I am bound in conscience by God’s word. I therefore cannot and will not retract against conscience. Here I stand. I cannot do otherwise, God help me!”

This angered the Catholic Church. And when Luther couldn’t speak publicly anymore because of the danger to his life, then he resorted to the pen to let the light of truth glow. And glow it did. Luther wrote ver 100 volumes of exposition, treatises, and polemics in Weimar’s English edition. He wrote both a large and small catechism, the latter is still used in our confirmation classes. And, of course, his greatest work was a translation of the New Testament into German which he finished in an incredibly short time of only three months. It has been well said that if Martin Luther had done nothing more than just that translation, his name would be immortal in the history of God’s kingdom along with Wycliffe and Tyndale.

            Yes, God’s response with fire glowed in Luther by spreading the Word of truth, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. It glowed in Germany. Soon it spread to Scandinavia, England, and throughout Europe. It eventually arrived in the new world. And it glows to this day, 500 years later around the world.

            A Lutheran today is anyone who burns with the fire that recognizes sin and sorrows over it. A Lutheran today is anyone who is purified by the fire that declares him righteous and holy for Jesus’ sake through faith. And a Lutheran today is anyone who glows with the fire of truth as it is revealed in the holy, inspired, infallible Word of God, and who wants to share it with the world.

            May we all continue to experience this fire, because the God who sparks it—he is God. Amen.

May we pray:

Lord God, we thank and praise you for doing at Wittenberg what you did at Mt Carmel, and what you have done in our hearts as well. In each case you have responded with fire. Burn off the sins of pride and conceit, purify us with the righteousness that comes from you through faith in Christ Jesus, and let the light of your pure Word shine in our hearts. Help us to choose you as the one we will worship and serve all our lives, knowing that you in your mercy and grace first chose us, your loved, redeemed, forgiven, heaven-bound children of God. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.