
A year and a half ago, I began writing a series of blog posts with a theme of “After Lutheranism.” Between egregious actions like the LCACA witch hunt, deeply entrenched doctrinal errors such as antinomianism, and the grim reality of demographic collapse, it was only natural to consider whether conservative Lutheran bodies like the LCMS actually have a future.
In the interim, Synod has mostly concerned itself with doubling and tripling down on their guilt-by-association war with Stone Choir, ruthlessly attacking its whistleblowers, tolerating LGBT advocacy in its Registered Service Organizations, and further alienating any of us who are more interested in upholding Lutheran doctrine than upholding the Postwar Consensus. Sadly, it seems no less likely to me now that the LCMS will simply fade away because it never really left liberalism behind.
But there were several big questions I failed to explore last time around. One of the most important is what will Church fellowship and membership look like for those who remain or become Lutheran in doctrine but have no institutional home?
A History of Standing Apart
Confessional Lutherans, after all, have a well-earned reputation for being insular. We deliberately resist many kinds of interactions with other traditions to the point that it’s become part of our identity. And this tendency is not without reason.
Historically speaking, the LCMS exists specifically because Prussia tried to force Lutherans and Reformed to worship together despite our inability to even agree on what worship actually entailse. Rather than allow the government to dictate our theology, CFW Walther and others decided to emigrate to America where they could practice their faith without Calvinist interference. Naturally, one doesn’t undertake a journey like that only to become chummy with Reformed traditions on the other side of the ocean.
There is also the matter of doctrinal purity. During the Lutheran Reformation, Luther’s defiance of the most powerful institution on Earth was justified by one simple fact: according to Holy Scripture, Luther was right and Rome was wrong. That was the source of his courage and determination. As a priest and doctor of the Church, Luther could not in good conscience allow Rome’s abuses and false teachings to go unchallenged. He did not relent because despite all the vitriol and conflict, no one was willing to demonstrate from Scripture and plain reason how he was wrong. They only demanded submission to the Pope. So long as God’s written Word was his highest authority, Luther could do nothing other than what he did.
Lutherans generally aspire to that same reliance on Scripture for rectitude–or at least imagine ourselves as doing so. Sound doctrine based on God’s Word is the foundation of how we see ourselves. Therefore, when other denominations speak contrary to that Word, we naturally treat it as spiritually dangerous error rather than some mere difference of opinion. Like Luther, we worry less about building bridges and making friends than with simply being correct where God has spoken and silent where He has not.
Our history and heritage gave us our insular tendences, and they have not really faded over the centuries. On the contrary, the temptations of the Devil have required insularity from us. We need it to combat repeated attempts to smuggle in some stupid trend or another from American evangelicalism in exchange for a vain promise of popularity. We are not as on guard as completely or as competently as we should be, perhaps, but moreso than the average American protestant.
The Limits of Denominational Identity
Practically speaking, however, our insularity now depends wholly on our denominational identity and mechanisms. For example, we (usually) practice closed Communion: we don’t share the Lord’s Supper with non-Lutherans because coming together as one means very little if we can’t even agree what we’re doing. While we are not as strict as the early church, which sent visitors and catechumens away before the Service of the Sacrament, we have a reputation of declining even family members when they hold to different confessions. (And to be clear, this is a good and proper thing.)
However, the way the LCMS gauges such agreement is by whether one is a member in good standing of an LCMS congregation (or the handful of Lutheran denominations with which we’re in altar & pulpit fellowship.) That’s our shorthand for keeping track of the catechesis and confession that should produce agreement among us. If one is confirmed in the LCMS, we presume he is fit for the Supper.
This mechanism does leave something to be desired, however. Church discipline is remarkably lax among us, and it’s appalling but not particularly shocking that a full 50% of self-identified LCMS members are apostates who support gay marriage and abortion. Clearly, our record on catechesis is nothing to write home about. Furthermore, the accidental death of private confession among us has rendered self-examination before the sacrament a matter of liturgical formality. So while we talk a good game about guarding the altar, the reality is that we let administrative processes do most of the heavy lifting. The consequence is a great deal of disagreement even among Lutherans communing together.
Or consider our vaunted purity of doctrine. In theory, it’s a matter of whether our doctrine correctly confesses what Scripture says and conforms to the Lutheran Confessions. In practice, there is an overreliance on denominational branding to make such judgments for us. If we want doctrinally sound materials, we have Concordia Publishing House to produce theological material that’s gone through doctrinal review so pastors and congregants don’t have to worry about it. That’s where we’re supposed to go first and usually last because we’re told we can trust it implicitly. In contrast, there’s a strong skepticism regarding any outside material. Congregational leaders therefore shy away from anything which isn’t from CPH.
While that skepticism is certainly not unfounded given the sad state of American Christianity, the solution again leaves something to be desired. We say we compare our doctrine to God’s Word, but more and more Lutherans have simply outsourced that work to the denomination. That’s a short trip back to the institutional problems which begat the Reformation in the first place.
Our recent experience with LCACA demonstrates that this vulnerability not just theoretical. Doctrinal review missed some major problems packaged alongside our confessions; and those responsible for guarding us still deny that any of it was truly problematic. Likewise, the fact that many of our Registered Service Organizations have been parading around celebrating sodomy has been met with outrage from faithful laity, but barely a shrug from Synod. Despite how we like to think of ourselves, pure doctrine and fellowship rooted therein is clearly not a priority for our leadership.
Respecters of Person or Doctrine?
How, then did our institutions see these controversies? They complained about too much criticism coming from the laity or taking place outside of the normal institutional channels with which they could typically sweep it all under the rug. When they came up at all, actual comparison of our teachings to God’s Word took a back seat to process, and many critics actually received retaliation for pursuing purity of doctrine.
At one point, I was brought in to defend my own criticism of LCACA before Synod officials. One of the things which struck me about the conversation was that while I was mainly criticizing the statements and arguments from the errant essays, my interlocutor was more focused on his knowledge of the people involved and their reputations within the denomination as good solid confessional guys. At one point, I was actually told I should have called up each of the authors individually to discuss my concerns (as though words on the page aren’t required to stand on their own merits once they’re published.) When the rubber hit the road, the denominational branding didn’t facilitate holding our doctrine up to the light of God’s Word–it replaced it.
After Lutheranism, the specific problems of failed processes like this will go away along with the failed institutions which established them. However, the underlying needs will always be with us. Congregations will still need to be wary of false teachers and ensure their teaching and practice conform to the Word of God. The tools however, will have to be different.
In the beginning, it can be fairly simple–which is not to say easy. Christians will need to do the hard work themselves instead of relying on shortcuts like denominational identity. They will need to understand Scripture, understand their fellow congregants, and apply the former to the latter. Pastors and teachers will need to stop relying on CPH and create more of their own material. When they do use outside work, they need to vet what they get from CPH as thoroughly as they do from any other source.
Churches will also need to evaluate their own rubrics for participation in the congregation–qualifications for different offices, admission to the sacraments, etc. “LCMS member in good standing” says increasingly little about shared convictions. Likewise, controversies over inclusion have caused many of us to ask old questions which our culture considered settled. Questions such as whether modern equality is necessary for Christian love or which offices are appropriate for women have been thoroughly mishandled by most churches. We need to ask them again with minds that are open to Scripture but skeptical of the world (and hearts courageous enough to resist cultural tides.)
Common Confession
Nevertheless, while “Doing our own research” has become essential, it cannot stop there. Pietism showed us what happens when it’s every congregation for itself: they splinter into a thousand different communities with a thousand contradictory rubrics, most of which die or abandon their convictions within a generation or two. Likewise, Baptists have shown us happens when Christians take a “just me and my Bible” approach to theology: they adopt a reconstructionism that neglects Church history and projects modern philosophies onto Scripture. That’s not much better than what we have now. Congregations need external unity as well as internal.
The Lutheran Confessions can, of course be of great help in defining unity, but they are not sufficient. If they were an adequate touchstone for common ground in the 21st century, we would not be reading this and pondering a time after Lutheranism. The errors of the 1500’s which they address are not always the errors of today, just as the errors addressed by the Nicene and Athanasian Creeds did not deal with the errors of the 1500’s. The modern assaults of Satan against first article truths like sexual morality, the nature of men & women, the existence & duties of nations and the like will need to be addressed by more than just atomized congregations.
What Lutherans (or perhaps post-Lutherans) will need as we struggle against the errors of this day is a new confession to define the common ground and exclude those we deem false teachers.
As shocking as this prospect might sound to our “nothing ever happens” mindset, this task has already begun among our liberal institutional leadership. President Harrison’s call for excommunication over novel (i.e. fake) sins like racism, capital punishment for sodomites, and the like is a backhanded attempt to establish a binding new confession of faith. So are the many stories I’ve heard of Lutheran churches withholding baptism from new converts who listen to Stone Choir or the dismissal of pastors who doubt the Holocaust. These are, for all intents and purposes, the beginnings of a new confession. It just happens to be one which syncretizes Christianity with Critical Theory.
Those of us who choose to remain faithful to Christ will need to start drawing lines as well. But unlike our institutional leaders, we need to draw these lines from Scripture and our Christian heritage rather than from the Postwar Consensus. This process will come at a cost; many of us have already felt Satan’s retaliation through his agents in our denominations. Even so, that cost covers a unique advantage: The more men worldly church bodies condemn over their refusal to offer a pinch of incense to the Spirit of the Age, the more faithful men there will be to forge this new confession.
A Strange New Ecumenicism
But as Lutherans (or perhaps post-Lutherans) engage in this common struggle for survival against the errors of our day, we will also have an opportunity to find more common ground. With denominations driving men out, that search for common ground may lie outside our old institutional homes. And as our denominations themselves erode our denominational identities, congregations and individuals will need to figure out anew how to faithfully relate to those of different traditions.
As we carefully work with others, we will undoubtedly come to learn that some of the human traditions we insist on can be traded away given what’s at stake. For example, the LCMS requires pastors to be rostered by the denomination and go through seminary & elaborate call processes to be considered authorized to publicly preach and administer the Sacraments. As someone who has defended those traditions, I nevertheless have to admit that they’re small beans compared to modern challenges like whether your pastor will try to get you fired or call the FBI on you because you said something “racist.”
Meanwhile, men of other traditions will be doing the same, which offers them a chance to leave behind traditions we would find errant. For example, many try to maintain a “this is my body, but it’s not bodily my body” distinction with respect to the Lord’s Supper. But maybe they’ll find that their speculation about what’s possible for God is less important than whether your congregation will undermine your household authority by teaching your wife feminism. If Lutherans can provide an alternative for men with such concerns, they will come.
Now, my point is not correcting any specific Lutheran or non-Lutheran doctrine here; it is only this: Just like during the Reformation (and many times in Church history), the extremity of malfeasance by church leadership provides all of us with a strong incentive to reflect on whether the doctrines and traditions we take for granted came from God or from man. These modern challenges we face span denominations. Accordingly, the Holy Spirit will be directing men from many different traditions against the devil. We may be surprised at what becomes possible under such circumstances.
We may also be surprised where we ourselves end up. As Satan drives us from our corners of the visible church, many Lutherans will have a pressing concern: Where shall we go? Some of us will be blessed with congregations which stay steadfast and faithful through the chaos. Many, however, will find themselves in something akin to an ELCA church–one which bears the name “Lutheran” out of tradition, but which also whores after the Spirit of the Age and refuses correction from God’s Word. We cannot remain in such places forever or even for long. But neither can we ignore the God-given need to assemble with other believers.
What then shall we do? I am no prophet, and it’s too soon to know what our solutions will be, but some of us will undoubtedly end up in parts of the visible church we would have never before considered.
To be sure, the end result of all this isn’t going to be some ecumenical utopia in which no divisions exist among us. As we explore this new approach, we’ll still find that we can join together and cooperate only inasmuch as we can actually agree on what we’re doing together. Even so, Lutherans and others will naturally find ourselves becoming less insular–or at least our insularity will become congruent with our convictions rather than with our branding. God has, in the past, used such convictions to draw men to Himself. He may do so still.
Those who preach the pure Word of God will inevitably draw Christ’s people and repel His enemies. The converse, of course, will also be true. Those synagogues of Satan which continue to elevate the Postwar Consensus above the Word will draw the world and repel Christians. In such circumstances, there’s no way to avoid a reshuffling of the post-Reformation traditions with which we’re familiar. As we discover that a common struggle against the Devil and the World makes for strange bedfellows, even Lutherans may find a need to relax some of our insularity and join together with those from whom we’ve been divided.