Viewing the World through God's Word

Month: October 2017 (Page 5 of 5)

Indebted Children

Lois and I were both blessed to be raised in Christians homes.  We might be punished for disobeying, but we knew we were loved and belonged no matter what.

In today’s text (Romans 8:12-17), Paul tells the Rome church they are indebted (under obligation) to God the Spirit, but as children of God.  In this text, he implicitly exhorts the church to apply what he’s written in 8:1-11.  A good summary of that text is 8:3,4 . . .

“For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do: by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and as a sin offering so that the just requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit” (8:3,4).

Now, the implicit exhortations which follow from that summary . . .

“So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh –“ (8:12).

Paul tells the Rome church and us (including himself) that we are “debtors” but not to the “flesh” (sinful nature or the law of sin in our members).  We’re no longer under obligation to the flesh, because God has acted by sending his Son (8:3,4).  Therefore, our “indebtedness” is now to God the Spirit, who indwells us.

“for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live” (8:13).

Here’s the reason why we’re not obligated to the sin nature:  if we live in conformity with its desires, we die.  In short, our sin nature does us no good.  It leaves us  separated from knowing God now, and eternally separated from him at the judgment.

Paul isn’t warning the believers we will die, since he’s already assured us, “There is therefore no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (8:1).  He’s warning us to stay away from what “kills” unbelievers.

But, “if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.”

“ . . . the deeds of the body.”  Paul sees the body as the place where the law of sin operates, as he’s already written . . .

“ . . . but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members” (7:23).

“We know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin” (6:6).

Until that destruction we are to “put to death the deeds of the body” so we might live.  And this we are to do “by the Spirit”.

“ . . . put to death” comes from the Greek thanatao.  Literally, it means “kill someone.”  Figuratively, it means “put a stop to”—in this case, the body’s sin-nature deeds.  We shouldn’t skim Paul’s language-choice—a violent word, implying the warfare-against-sin in which we are caught up.  And the present tense means Paul wants his readers to keep on “killing” the body’s sin-nature deeds.

Commentator Leon Morris writes, “Such acts are the object of decisive and hostile actions as far as the believer is concerned.   There is to be no life in the deeds in question.  They are not living options.  And this is to take place through an action in the believer, though not an unaided action, for the mortification is to be done ‘by the Spirit’.  It is the energy of the divine Spirit, not the energy of the flesh, that enables the believer to put the body’s deeds to death” (The Epistle to the Romans, p. 312).

Paul now explains why all genuine believers will fight sin to the death and live . . .

“For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a Spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ — if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him “ (8:14-17).

All true Christians will “kill” sin because “ . . . all who are led by the Spirit are children of God”.  To be “led by the Spirit” is to be guided into fights against sin.  Those “led by the Spirit” are “children of God”.  They have a “family-like” relationship with God, and he with them.

Thus, they will live because they are God’s children!  They are not slaves “to fall back into fear.”  They are “children”, who belong no matter what.

We, of course, are not naturally God’s children.  (Here Paul opposes the popular cultural thought that we’re all children of God.)  We’re God’s children by “a Spirit of adoption”.  That means we have been given rights and privileges not naturally ours.  We’re admitted into a heavenly family to which we have no rights of our own.

And while “adoption” is a legal proceeding, Paul makes it very personal.  We have received a “Spirit of adoption”.  He is given to indwell us, to live inside us.  And it is by him that we cry, “Abba!  Father”.  “Abba” is an Aramaic term for father, meaning something close to our “papa” or “daddy”, while retaining proper respect and honor.

This is intimacy with God as our Father that we sense in our spirit.

This leads to a “legal” standing that we “adopted children of God” enjoy—“heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ . . . “   In the Old Testament, the children of Israel were heirs of the land.  Later, that promised land came to be understood in connection with the Messiah.  Paul identifies us as “joint heirs with Christ”.  Thus, we inherit what the Messiah inherits—not just eastern Mediterranean land, but the new creation over which he will reign and all eternal blessings belonging to it.  As adopted children of God, all this is ours with Christ.

But there’s a condition–“if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.”  What kind of suffering might Paul have in mind?  In the immediate context (8:1-17), it’s the suffering of “killing” sin.  It’s easier to “go with the flow”, to do what feels right.  But indwelling sin (what Paul calls “the law of sin”) remains in us.  Empowered by the Spirit, we must resist it and put it to death when it tempts.  Because of this, following Christ brings with it its own afflictions.

As Paul continues (8:18-39), it becomes obvious Paul is broadening out suffering to include any kind.  Sickness, pain, persecution, poverty may come.  With it will come a severe faith-test.  Sin will raise its siren call to “curse God and die”.  It must be killed.  If we are to be glorified with Christ, we must suffer with him.

* * *

You and I, believers in Christ, have a debt, an obligation.  But a good one.  We’re obligated  to put the deeds of our sin-indwelt bodies to death.  This might sound silly coming from the old preacher.  Isn’t it mostly the young  who endure temptation?  I guess I used to think that, just as I used to think I had really grown holier.  Then I realized I had just grown older.  Temptations to sin may have changed, but they still confront me.

Anyway, I’ve said our obligate to “kill” the deeds of our sin-indwelt bodies is a good one.  That’s because we’re obligated as adopted-by-the-Spirit children of God.  We’re obligated as sinners who now call God “Father” and sense in our spirit that God is our Father.  We’re obligated as children who will increasingly learn to live in accord with the Spirit who indwells us.  And we’re obligated as children who are joint-heirs with Christ himself, glory awaiting.

I conclude with two thoughts.  One, no matter what happens we belong.  We’ll not be kicked out of the family.  And, two, we’re not little defenseless children cowering at the attacks of sin.  We’re children of the King, armed with the Spirit, destined to win.  We’re on the offensive against sin!

 

 

 

 

Reformation: Philip Melanchthon

 
This is Day 4 in our 500th Reformation Commemoration courtesy of desinggod.org.   Read about the men whose lives God used to shape the Reformation . . .

Here We Stand

Philip Melanchthon

1497–1560

The Gentle Lutheran

By David Mathis

He was not the kind who started revolutions, but the kind who brought order to the ensuing chaos. His mentor, Martin Luther, was brash, impulsive, and forceful. But Philip Melanchthon was a timid, sober-minded unifier. Luther, by his own admission, was “substance without words,” while his brilliant young disciple was “substance and words.”

Luther had little concern for precision or guarding against misconception; Melanchthon made nuance his forte. Luther said he used a spear, while Melanchthon used pins and needles. Luther was a pioneer, hacking his way through centuries of superstitious brush with an apostolic machete. But Melanchthon, like Bullinger in Zurich and Calvin in Geneva, played the part of the calm, collected systematic, grading the Protestant path for generations to come.

He was “the quiet reformer” — and a fitting complement to the loud, boisterous Luther. But not only was Melanchthon known as quiet and peaceful, but on occasion he demonstrated an explosive temper. And not only was he relentlessly curious, and a master of many subjects, but he also was strangely superstitious. Like every sinner, he was his own inconsistent blend of virtue and vice, and God was willing to work with that.

Prodigy, Professor, Copilot

Born in 1497 in southwest Germany, Melanchthon was nephew to renowned humanist Johann Reuchlin (1455–1522), who suggested, in the humanist tradition, that young Philip change his last name from Schwartzerdt (“black earth”) to the Hellenized Melanchthon.

A child prodigy, Melanchthon studied the classics in Heidelberg and Tubingen, and arrived in Wittenberg in 1519, at age 22, just as the Reformation was heating up. That same year, he accompanied Luther as an aid to the Leipzig Disputation. By 1521, he published the first edition of his Loci Communes (“basic concepts”) which started as a commentary on Romans and sought to tie Christian theology, inspired by Luther, to the biblical text, rather than the philosophical categories of medieval scholarship.

As the fires of reform raged, Melanchthon was there at Luther’s side in 1529 at Marburg, and there in Luther’s stead in 1530 at Augsburg, where he represented the Lutheran cause — and even drafted the Augsburg Confession — since Luther was an outlaw and unable to attend.

Independent Mind

Melanchthon’s close association with Luther, however, did not mean that all Lutherans embraced him. Even while Luther was still living, some impugned Melanchthon as a corruptor, that he was hijacking Luther’s bold movement for something more docile. Meanwhile, many others greatly appreciated Melanchthon’s nuance, level head, and theological acumen and thought he was doing his pioneering friend an invaluable service.

Melanchthon was too careful a thinker to agree with Luther on everything. But even as differences emerged, he always thought of himself as Luther’s disciple. He was helping his mentor, not rebelling against him, in maturing his theological insights.

His two key divergences with Luther, for which some detractors would relentlessly take him to task, pertained to the bondage of the will and the Lord’s Supper. As early as 1540, a decade after Augsburg, and six years before Luther’s death, Melanchthon went public, in an updated version of the confession, with an iterated view of the Table. His opponents accused him of being a crypto-Calvinist on the Eucharist; however, in the other key divergence, he clearly moved away from Geneva. Melanchthon rejected double predestination, which he thought a necessary entailment of Luther’s view of the will, and suspected that at least some of Luther’s followers were going too far in their sense of the will’s bondage.

Leader of the Lutherans

As the years passed, even after Melanchthon’s death in Wittenberg in 1560, “the quiet reformer” carried the day in one of his major disagreements and lost the other. With the 1577 Formula of Concord, and the 1580 Book of Concord, “Lutheran orthodoxy emerged as playing down the doctrine of predestination (with Melanchthon) and affirming the real presence in the Eucharist (against Melanchthon)” (The Reformation, 353). From a Reformed perspective, both decisions went in the wrong direction, and account for key differences with Lutherans today. We’d say Concord would have been better off to hear Melanchthon on the Table and listen to Luther on the will.

In the final tally, Melanchthon became the intellectual leader of the Lutherans. Not only was he the first systematic theologian of the Reformation, and one of its most significant figures, but he designed educational systems that gave Lutheranism staying power not just in his unstable days but in the even more turbulent times to come. God put Melanchthon’s gifts, quirks, and even inconsistencies to good use to reinforce Reformation theology as a world-changing force.

A Continuationist Church

Seems like desiringgod.org day at the Old Preacher.  But, I can’t resist passing along this blog by Jason Meyer, pastor of Bethlehem Baptist Church, Minneapolis, Minnesota.  He titles his blog, “Confessions of a Functional Cessationist”.  (Cessationists believe that the miraculous gifts of the Spirit ceased with the ending of the apostolic age and close of the biblical canon.  Continuationists believe the gifts continue until Jesus comes.)

For some time I’ve realized that the pastor who is not a continuationist robs his church of the upbuilding the Spirit-gifts are given to promote.  I share Meyer’s blog hoping that, if your pastor is not a continuatiionist, you might begin to pray that he will become one and lead the church in that direction.

 

Article by

Pastor, Minneapolis, Minnesota

This article is more about aspirations than answers. I am describing the start of a journey more than documenting how to arrive at a destination. I begin with a confession: I have always been a theoretical continuationist. That is, I have always believed that the gifts of the Spirit continue to this very day.

I have never adopted the cessationist viewpoint that certain spiritual gifts ceased when the apostolic age came to an end. Paul’s argument that tongues and prophecy will end “when the perfect comes” (1 Corinthians 13:8–10) is a reference to the second coming of Christ, not the close of the biblical canon. I tell my cessationist friends that there is a day coming when I too will be a cessationist: the second coming.

Even though I have always been a theoretical continuationist, I am far too often a functional cessationist. In other words, I am a continuationist in theory, but I look a lot like a cessationist in practice. This gap between theory and practice pricks my conscience.

Test Everything — Including Attitudes

Recently, I have been convicted by clear differences between the way the Bible speaks and the way I speak about spiritual gifts. I have said things like “I am open, but cautious” when it comes to sign gifts like prophecy, tongues, and interpretation of tongues. That statement about caution rightly stresses the need to “test everything” (1 Thessalonians 5:21). Every experience must be examined by the searchlight of Scripture.

“Instead of ‘open, but cautious,’ I am more like ‘open, but overly suspicious.’”

However, in practice, I can take this caution so far that it turns into suspicion and fear. Instead of “open, but cautious,” I am more like “open, but overly suspicious.” I have discovered that Scripture tests our attitudes and not just our experiences. It was a little shocking to see how much my attitude is actually rebuked by Scripture. Paul commands Christians, “Earnestly desire the spiritual gifts” (1 Corinthians 14:1). He characterizes the Corinthians as “eager for manifestations of the Spirit” (1 Corinthians 14:12).

My attitude towards spiritual gifts has fallen far short of earnest and eager. In fact, Scripture goes further and asks me about how much I am committed to corporate edification. Spiritual gifts or manifestations of the Spirit are for “building up the church” (1 Corinthians 14:12). The great Love Chapter (1 Corinthians 13) controls the application of spiritual gifts (1 Corinthians 14). This issue is not just an attitude check, but a love test. Will I love my people enough to move from extreme caution to earnest desire? What motivates me more? Do I fear losing a measure of corporate control, or does love move me to desire greater heights of corporate edification?

Desiring God in His Gifts

One thought has captured me more than any other at the start of this journey. This thought came from a thought-provoking question from Sam Storms in his book The Beginners Guide to Spiritual Gifts. He asks whether we should talk about “God and his gifts” or “God in his gifts.” He does not leave the answer in doubt.

Spiritual gifts are nothing less than God himself in us, energizing our souls, imparting revelation to our minds, infusing power in our wills, and working his sovereign and gracious purposes through us. Spiritual gifts must never be viewed deistically, as if a God “out there” has sent some “thing” to us “down here.” Spiritual gifts are God present in, with, and through human thoughts, human deeds, human words, human love.

This paragraph captured me. These words arrested me because if spiritual gifts are manifestations of God, then, in a sense, desiring the gifts is desiring God. Christian Hedonists are not fully desiring God if we stop short of desiring him in his gifts.

The pastoral implications are weighty as well. The apostle Paul keeps pushing the discussion of spiritual gifts toward corporate edification: “building up the church” (1 Corinthians 14:12). Love looks like a pastor wanting more manifestations of God for the corporate joy and edification of his people.

Christian Hedonism Seeks for More

Therefore, I aspire to pastor a Christian Hedonist, continuationist church. The gifts of the Spirit are present at our church; I don’t want to give the impression that manifestations of the Spirit have been absent. But certain gifts of the Spirit — like prophesy and speaking in tongues — have been more sporadic than consistent.

“Spiritual gifts are nothing less than God himself in us.”

I don’t have all the answers for what consistency would look like as a Christian Hedonist, continuationist church, but I want to grow into it. We are taking some small steps in this direction. Our leadership has made plans to attend the Convergence Conference this month, and the next Bethlehem Conference for Pastors and Church Leaders will focus on the person and the work of the Holy Spirit.

We don’t expect changes to come overnight. Any changes in practice will require extensive teaching and careful shepherding, but we are eager to learn from others who are leading the way in demonstrating how to desire God in his gifts.

Reformation: Girolamo Savonarola

This catches us up-to-date with our Reformation remembrances on its 500th year anniversary courtesy of desiringgod.org.

Here We Stand

Day 3

Girolamo Savonarola

1452–1498

The Florentine Forerunner

By Zach Howard

Surrounding the base of the Luther monument in Worms, Germany, sit the four forerunners of the Protestant Reformation — Jan Hus, John Wycliffe, Peter Waldo, and Girolamo Savonarola. They could not have more different personalities, yet each inspired Luther’s reforms in his own way. Luther found Savonarola personally inspiring: as Luther traveled to the Diet of Worms in 1521 to stand trial — after burning the papal bull that excommunicated him — he carried on his person a picture of the Dominican friar.

As Luther faced the possibility of death in Worms, perhaps he compared his own life to Savonarola’s: with a prophetic voice, Savonarola had condemned the Roman church’s corruption. His conflict with the pope climaxed in his excommunication and execution by fire. Luther was likewise excommunicated for his complaints against papal abuses. And though Luther escaped his own death sentence, he found a particular resonance with Savonarola; two years after hiding away in Wartburg Castle, Luther published Savonarola’s prison meditations on Psalms 51 and 31 and praised him as “that godly man of Florence.”

The People’s Prophet

Born to a wealthy family in Ferrara, Italy, in 1452, Savonarola was a precocious young man with a penchant for learning. Intended by his parents for the medical field, he made a sudden choice at 23 years old to join the Dominican order after becoming disillusioned with the vanity of Italian culture. As a young friar, he soaked deeply in the writings of Thomas Aquinas and in Scripture, quickly demonstrating a capacious mind, which allowed him to commit most of Scripture to memory.

Savonarola arrived in Florence in 1490 already renowned for his learning, yet it was his preaching that catapulted him into the center of Florentine reform and politics. Often from the cathedral in Florence, Savonarola would preach to thousands in the vernacular with powerful imagery and simple language from the Scriptures. He announced the saving grace of Christ with biblical potency while simultaneously offering excoriating critiques of the immoral practices of political and ecclesial leaders.

His influential preaching, along with some remarkable events outside Savonarola’s control — the French king’s surprise invasion into Italy along with a devastating disease — suddenly elevated his influence in Florence. Equally important in his ascent as the city’s prophetic voice was the pervasive belief among ordinary people of an imminent, momentous upheaval related to the end times, especially as the year 1500 approached.

Excommunicated

From 1494 to 1498, Savonarola fomented dramatic political and social change. His preaching became far more prophetic. Emphasizing Christ’s return, he called Florence to live as a new Jerusalem. His moral reform bled into political reorganization as he worked to establish a “Christian republic,” much like Calvin later did in Geneva.

Towards the height of these changes, he organized the youth of Florence to model and incite for reform, precipitating several “Bonfires of Vanities” in protest against the annual Mardi Gras Carnival. These youths led citizens in destroying instruments of temptation like carnival masks, playing cards, fine dresses, makeup, mirrors, and even musical instruments. The last of these occurred in the Piazza della Signoria at the center of Florence on February 7, 1497, just months before Pope Alexander VI excommunicated Savonarola.

After his excommunication, Savonarola’s conflict with Pope Alexander VI exploded when the pope captured letters Savonarola had sent to the kings of France, England, Spain, Hungary, and the Emperor of Germany, pleading with them to call an ecclesiastical counsel to depose the pope for his abuses. Savonarola opposed not the office, but the person of Alexander VI and, in this way, differed from later Reformers’ more expansive critiques of papal authority and Catholic doctrine.

Luther’s Spark

Insofar as Savonarola affirmed the primacy of Peter, encouraged devotion to Mary, and tended towards a semi-Pelagian view of salvation, he remained doctrinally within the Roman Catholic Church. But insofar as Savonarola called for moral reform, condemned papal abuses, and elevated the authority of Scripture, he anticipated the Reformation.

Although Savonarola’s one-man reform movement in Florence did not continue long in Italy after his death, his passionate preaching and zealous reforms had exposed the church’s corruption like a brief yet bright match lit in a dark cave. Savonarola’s spark was the kind by which Luther, just two decades later, would kindle his own fire for reformation.

 

Reformation: Jan Hus

 We continue with our Reformation commemoration from desiringgod.org . . .

Here We Stand

Day 2

Jan Hus

c. 1369–1415

The Goosefather

By Greg Morse

On December 17, 1999, the pope issued the ceremonial equivalent of a modern apology: “Our bad.”

John Paul II addressed a crowd in the Czech Republic, expressing “deep regret for the cruel death” inflicted upon their hero. “Deep regrets” were the very least the Catholic Church could offer.

Sealed with Blood

Lured to the Council of Constance under the promise of safety, Jan Hus was immediately thrown into prison for six months, given a mock trial, and ordered to recant — which he refused. In July 1415, he was stripped naked, adorned with a dunce hat painted with devils and labeled “Arch-Heretic” — all as he prayed for his enemies.

They then led him past a burning pile of his books and chained him to the stake. In response to being chained up like a dog, he said, “My Lord Jesus Christ was bound with a harder chain than this one for my sake, so why should I be ashamed of this rusty chain?” They told him once more to recant, but he refused, proclaiming, “What I taught with my lips I will now seal with my blood.” And that he did.

As the flames climbed higher, he sang. The secretary of the council pronounced, “O curse’d Judas, because thou hast abandoned the pathways of peace, and hast counselled with the Jews, we take away from thee the cup of redemption.” Thankfully, the Catholic Church did not have the authority to take the cup of redemption that day.

After his death, outrage filled Bohemia. In his name, followers revolted against Rome in violent protest that lasted for over a decade. Jan Hus was a preacher, a political figure, a prophet, a proto-Reformer, and a martyr of the first class.

Wycliffe’s Bulldog

Around 1369, a goose was born in gooseland. Jan Hus (Czech for goose) was born in Hussinec (Czech for gooseland) in the Kingdom of Bohemia. Born into a poor family, the goose left the gaggle for the priesthood in search of a better living and prestige. He came to be a renowned preacher at Bethlehem Chapel, but spent much of his time serving in academia as the dean of the philosophical faculty in Prague. Living in a time of social unrest between German speakers and Czech citizens, Hus became a key figure for Czech nationalism.

Hus lived in a time when immorality infected the priesthood of the Catholic Church. He soon began preaching “violent sermons” against the rampant iniquity of the clergy until they reported him to the archbishop and had him banned from preaching. As Hus read Scripture and watched the popes of his day abuse their power, he concluded that papal authority was not ultimate. He needed a sturdier foundation than was built from the straw and sticks of men’s opinion — no matter how highly regarded those men were. He built his life and ministry on the word of God.

His views about Scripture’s ultimate authority were set ablaze as he began to read the condemned works of John Wycliffe. Wycliffe found a loyal disciple in Hus. Hus defended his works with such tenacity that one historian called Hus “Wycliffe’s bulldog” (The Unquenchable Flame, 30). He staunchly argued against indulgences, advocated for both the bread and the wine to be served in communion, and preached in the common language (as opposed to the untranslated Latin of the day).

Although still in agreement with the Catholic Church on matters such as the Mass, his allegiance to the teachings of Wycliffe got him excommunicated, tried for heresy, and burned alive.

The Geese Are Not Silent

After Hus was finally condemned to death, he proclaimed, “You may roast the goose, but a hundred years from now a swan will arise whose singing you will not be able to silence.” Exactly 102 years later, a sprightly monk nailed ninety-five theses to Wittenberg’s door.

He too, seeing the discrepancy between Roman doctrine and Scripture, sought to reform the Catholic Church. He too was led to challenge the pope. And he too was condemned as a heretic. During the Leipzig Debate, Luther was disparagingly condemned as a “Hussite.” He rejected the title in the moment, but took time to read his works during an intermission, returned, and commended the teaching of the condemned Hus. Luther was Hus’s swan, and would later own the association. He’s often painted with swans to this day.

The Goosefather, a prominent forerunner to the Reformers, stood his ground and was martyred. The Swan followed the Goose, and Rome still has not silenced him.

Reformation: Peter Waldo

 
desiringgod.org is taking readers on a 31-day journey to remember “Martin Luther’s spark that set the world ablaze” on this the Reformation’s 500th anniversary.  I’ll be passing along these commemorations to deepen our knowledge of how God worked through these men who suffered so much for the Word of God.  Here’s Day 1–2 days late.

Here We Stand

Day 1

Peter Waldo

Died by 1218

The First Tremor

By Jon Bloom

More than three hundred years before Martin Luther was born, an unlikely reformer suddenly appeared in the city of Lyon in southeast France. His protests against doctrines and practices of the Roman Catholic Church were strong tremors foretelling the coming spiritual earthquake called the Reformation. And the movement he launched survived to join the great Reformation. He is known to history as Peter Waldo.

Many details about Waldo are not known, including his name. We don’t know if Peter was his real first name, since it doesn’t appear in any document until 150 years after his death. His last name was most likely something like Valdès or VaudèsValdo (Waldo) was the Italian adaptation. We also don’t know the year Peter was born or the precise year he died — historians disagree over whether he died between 1205 and 1207 or between 1215 and 1218.

But we do know a few earthshaking things.

A Rich Ruler Repents

In 1170, Waldo was a very wealthy, well-known merchant in the city of Lyon. He had a wife, two daughters, and lots of property. But something happened — some say he witnessed the sudden death of a friend, others say he heard a spiritual song of a traveling minstrel — and Waldo became deeply troubled over the spiritual state of his soul and desperate to know how he could be saved.

The first thing he resolved was to read the Bible. But since it only existed in the Latin Vulgate, and his Latin was poor, he hired two scholars to translate it into the vernacular so he could study it.

Next, he sought spiritual counsel from a priest, who pointed him to the rich young ruler in the Gospels and quoted Jesus: “One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me” (Luke 18:22). Jesus’s words pierced Waldo’s heart. Like the rich young ruler, Waldo suddenly realized he had been serving Mammon, not God. But unlike the rich young ruler who walked away from Jesus, Waldo repented and did exactly what Jesus said: he gave away all he had to the poor (after making adequate provision for his wife and daughters). From that point on, he determined to live in complete dependence on God for his provision.

A Movement Is Born

Waldo immediately began to preach from his Bible in the streets of Lyon, especially to the poor. Many were converted, and by 1175 a sizable group of men and women had become Waldo’s disciples. They too gave away their possessions and were preaching (women as well as men). The people started calling them the “Poor of Lyons.” Later, as the group grew into a movement and spread throughout France and other parts of Europe, they became known as “The Waldensians.”

The more Waldo studied Scripture, the more troubled he became over certain doctrines, practices, and governing structures of the Catholic Church — not to mention its wealth. And he boldly spoke out against these things. But since the Church officially prohibited lay preaching, Waldo and his ragtag band drew opposition from church leaders.

A Sign to Be Opposed

The Archbishop of Lyons was particularly irked by this uneducated, self-appointed reform movement and moved to squash it. But in 1179, Waldo appealed directly to Pope Alexander III and received his approval. However, only five years later the new pope, Lucius III, sided with the archbishop and excommunicated Waldo and his followers.

In the earlier years, the Waldensian movement was a reform movement. Waldo never intended to leave the church, and he held to numerous traditional Catholic doctrines. But after the excommunication, and continuing beyond Waldo’s death, the Waldensian’s Protestant-like convictions increased and solidified.

  • They rejected all claims to authority besides Scripture.
  • They rejected all mediators between God and man, except the man Christ Jesus (though Mary was venerated for quite a while).
  • They rejected the doctrine that only a priest could hear confession, and argued that all believers were qualified.
  • They rejected purgatory, and thus rejected indulgences and prayers for the dead.
  • They believed the only Scripture-sanctioned sacraments were baptism and communion.
  • They rejected the Church’s emphasis on fast and feast days and eating restrictions.
  • They rejected the priestly and monastic caste system.
  • They rejected the veneration of relics, pilgrimages, and the use of holy water.
  • They rejected the pope’s claim to authority over earthly rulers.
  • They eventually rejected the apostolic succession of the pope.

The Pre-Reformation Joins the Reformation

Despite the excommunication and Waldo’s death, the Waldensian movement continued to grow for quite a while. It spread into northern Italy and regions of Spain, Austria, Germany, Hungary, and Poland.

But the Roman Catholic persecution also continued and grew in severity, till by the fifteenth century, the Waldensian ranks had shrunk into small, obscure communities in the alpine valleys of France and Italy. But when the Protestant Reformation burst on the scene in the sixteenth century, most Waldensians became Protestants.

Peter Waldo was proto-Protestant, though he didn’t know it. He was a merchant turned prophet who simply believed in the word of God with all his heart, which he demonstrated with all his life. And in taking God at his word, Waldo turned his world upside down.

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