Author: Jack Kilcrease

Jack Kilcrease is a Lutheran lay theologian and member of Our Savior Lutheran Church (LCMS). He is currently a member of the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod’s Commission on Theology and Church Relations. Jack was born in Texas, but grew up in Oregon. He went on to receive a B.A. from Luther College and an M.A. from Luther Seminary. He earned his Ph.D. in Systematic Theology and Ethics from Marquette University in 2009. Jack’s theological work explores the gift of God’s self-donation in Jesus Christ. He is the author of several books including the most recent volume of the Confessional Lutheran Dogmatics series on Holy Scripture and the forthcoming Justification by the Word (Lexham Press). Jack is currently Associate Professor of Historical and Systematic Theology at the Institute of Lutheran Theology’s Christ School of Theology. He is also an Assistant Adjunct Professor teaching philosophy at Aquinas College. Jack lives in beautiful West Michigan with his lovely wife, Bethany, and his two energetic daughters, Miriam and Ruth. When he’s not thinking about theology—and even when he is—Jack enjoys running, hiking, and hanging out with his family and cat. He’s passionate about BBQ, whiskey, jazz, movies, and theological discussion.
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Sanctification and Justification

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Sanctification is then not the building up of righteous qualities inside of believers, but believers learning to live outside of themselves as a result of their justification.  Such an existence lived outside of ourselves neither destroys the simul of Christian existence, nor the full and robust reality of sanctification.  The more the Christian meditates on the divine Word, the more he or she cannot help but feel the reality of his or her inner sinfulness.  This recognition will undoubtedly be augmented by the fact that we sin every day and therefore the older we become the more we have to regret.  Nevertheless, such a recognition of our innate sinfulness draws us ever more out ourselves into Christ through faith.  In turn, faith in Christ ever increases and overflows into service to our neighbors. 

Of course, Christian love is always imperfect.  Hence, there is a genuine insight in Luther’s early theology wherein he describes the believer as “partim peccator,”[1] and “peccatores in re, iusti autem in spe.”[2] In our present life, there is a real distinction between which actions of ours are the fruits of the Spirit and which are sins.  Hence, Lutherans have developed the paradigm of “active” and “passive” righteousness, within which believers are “partim peccator” according to the former category.  At the same time, any sin within us makes us “totus peccator” before God.  One either sins, or does not, and this fact grants us a status of total sinfulness or righteousness before God.  Even the good works of believers are imperfect, and therefore judged by the absolute standard of divine law are in themselves sinful (Isa. 64:6).  Hence, we are not “partim peccator” before the eyes of God according to passive righteousness.  In the present age, we are always total sinners coram Deo and therefore beggars before the divine throne of judgment and mercy.

Believers’ sense of their sinfulness drives on their sanctification.  If believers honestly contemplate their own actions, they cannot help but feel that their sinfulness outweighs their progress in good works. Indeed, the progress of sanctification cannot be quantified, and at times, we cannot detect any moral progress in our lives at all.  Such reflections should inevitably lead us to repentance and ever-deeper faith in Christ.  This divinely wrought faith in turn leads to overflowing love for God and our neighbor.  Thus, the Christian life can be seen as a perpetual cycle of believers suffering the work of the Word of God as law and gospel, until they are definitively transformed by temporal death and resurrection.

[1] WA 56:272.

[2] WA 56:269.

From the draft manuscript for Jack D. Kilcrease, Justification by Word (Lexham Press, forthcoming).

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Luther on the Law

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The reality of the law as a principle of legal relationship (morally charged human activity resulting in merit or demerit), as opposed to a principle of grace/promise relationship (i.e., protoevangelium, new covenant), applies across cultural and historical situations (Pharisees/Judaizers vs. Ockhamism). As a result, Luther gave expansive definitions of the law throughout his career rooted in the principles he discovered in his biblical exegesis.  Much like many in the early and medieval Church, Luther held that God’s commandments given to Israel and the Church expressed his just and holy eternal divine nature.  It logically follows that if God is eternal (as Scripture affirms) then his will (which includes the law) must also be eternal.  In his Antinomian Disputations of the 1530s, Luther affirmed that “the Decalogue is eternal.”[1]  Elsewhere Luther states the same doctrine.  The law is: “His [God’s] will and counsel,”[2] it “serves to indicate the will of God,”[3] “commands firmly and forever,”[4] and is “the eternal and immutable judgment of God.”[5]  Later Lutheran Scholasticism[6] would follow Luther and express the truth that the law is rooted in God’s eternal nature through the utilization of the Stoic concept of lex aeterna.[7]

Beyond affirming that the law was God’s eternal and immutable will for his creation, in the the Antinomian Disputation of the 1530s Luther also spoke of the law as anything in creation that expresses the condemnation of sin.  Part of this formulation was a response to the work of the early Lutheran heretic Johann Agricola.  Agricola believed that only a heartfelt love of God could inspire true repentance.  Because the gospel, and not the law, inspired fallen humanity’s love for God, it followed that preaching the promise of the gospel to the exclusion of the law should occur.  For Agricola, then, the law was good, but only for the use of the civil authority.[8] 

Luther countered Agricola’s claims by noting that God’s wrath against humanity deriving from the violation of the law extended to the whole of creation. Therefore, simply excluding certain biblical texts or the word “law” from preaching would do no good.  Death, destruction, illness, and all the vicissitudes of the fallen creation preached the law (i.e., the consequences of not following the law) to fallen humans without any explicit word of law from preacher: “Anything that exposes sin, wrath, or death exercises the office of the law . . .”[9]  Hence, the preacher achieved nothing by excluding the preaching of the law.  Indeed, since God mandates the preaching of both the law and the promise, the preacher would be guilty of dereliction of duty by not preaching the law.[10] 

[1] LW 73:112.

[2] LW 9:51

[3] LW 22:143.

[4] WA 5:560.  “inaeternum et stabiliter.”  Translation my own.

[5] LW 7:275.

[6] See: Gerhard Forde, The Law-Gospel Debate: An Interpretation of Its Historical Development (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1969), 3-11.

[7] Gunnar Skirbekk and Nils Gilje, A History of Western Thought: From Ancient Greece to the Twentieth Century(London: Routledge, 2001), 94.

[8] See discussion of Agricola’s early position in Timothy Wengert, Law and Gospel: Philip Melanchthon’s Debate with John Agricola of Eisleben over Poenitentia (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1997), 84-9.  Also see description in F. Bente, Historical Introductions to the Book of Concord (St. Louis: Concordia, 1965), 161-9. 

[9] LW 73:54.

[10] LW 47:111.

From the draft manuscript for Jack D. Kilcrease, Justification by Word (Lexham Press, forthcoming).

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Luther on Christ’s Real Presence in the Eucharist

Although Luther affirmed the substantial presence of Christ’s body and blood in the Eucharist, he disliked the doctrine of transubstantiation because it contradicts 1 Corinthians 10:16 which states that the bread and wine remain in the Lord’s Supper as the medium by which one receives Christ’s substantial body and blood.[1]  Luther considers the entire idea of transubstantiation an Aristotelian rationalization of the mystery of how the body and blood of Christ can become present through the bread and the wine.[2] 

In spite of this criticism of transubstantiation, it is interesting to note that Luther does not consider belief in the doctrine to be tremendously problematic and allows that people could still affirm transubstantiation as a theologoumenon.[3]  What is most important to the Reformer is that one affirms the substantial presence of Christ’s flesh and blood in the Lord’s Supper.  Although how one conceptually achieves this mysteriously physical presence is not unimportant, the main point for Luther is that one knows that Christ is substantially present in his body and blood “for you” (pro me).[4] 

This is why Luther was considerably less tolerant when it comes to the sacramental symbolicism of a figure like Zwingli.[5]  From Luther’s perspective, Zwingli ignores the divine promise that Christ’s flesh and blood will be present on essentially rationalistic grounds, namely, that physical bodies cannot be at more than one location at once.  As we have seen Luther rejects this logic and affirms that Jesus’ body remains a real body. However, it participates in God’s glory and can transcended the normal boundaries of physicality.[6]  After all, in the resurrection Jesus was able to walk through walls and appear and disappear at will.  Jesus’ body nevertheless remained a real body.  Christ could still invite Thomas to place his fingers in the nail holes of his very real hands and eat fish with the apostles.  Likewise, the mysterious supernatural quality of Christ’s body in the Lord’s Supper does not negate its real physicality or his genuine humanity. 

As we noted earlier, these differences between Luther and Zwingli on the sacrament are due in part to competing concepts of the communicatio idiomatum.[7]  Nevertheless, these differences also have implications regarding the nature of how the Word of God functions.  For Zwingli, the words of institution are signifiers that merely signify.[8]  Zwingli resolves the puzzle of how the signifiers “body and blood” can be validly applied to the signified “bread and wine” (which they do not match) through sacramental symbolicism.[9]  For Luther, divine words are not mere signifiers, but promises that effect what they speak.[10] This is the same principle that we have seen earlier in his views of confession and absolution.  Hence the words “this is my body . . . this is my blood” possess divine power to bring about the presence of Christ’s flesh and blood.[11]  Faith must simply trusts that God’s words perform what they promise.  To believe otherwise would be to trust in human reason over the God’s clearly stated promises.[12]

[1] LW 36:33-4.

[2] LW 36:34-5.

[3] LW 36:35.

[4] Paul Althaus, The Theology of Martin Luther, trans. Robert Schultz (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1966), 379.

[5] Lohse, Martin Luther’s Theology, 169-77; Sasse, This is My Body, 134-294.

[6] Thomas Davis,  This Is My Body: The Presence of Christ in Reformation Thought (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008), 41-64; Sasse, This is My Body, 148-60.

[7] Sasse, This is My Body, 148-54.

[8] See discussion in: Aaron Moldenhauer, “Analyzing the Verba Christi: Martin Luther, Ulrich Zwingli, and Gabriel Biel on the Power of Words,” in The Medieval Luther, ed. Christine Helmer (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020), 53-6.

[9] Ulrich Zwingli, “On the Lord’s Supper,” in Zwingli and Bullinger, 175-238.

[10] Moldenhauer, “Analyzing the Verba Christi,” 57-61.

[11] LW 37:180-88.

[12] LW 37:131.

From the draft manuscript for Jack D. Kilcrease, Justification by Word (Lexham Press, forthcoming).

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Sex and the Sacraments

Because our bodily presence and trustworthiness are inexorably tied together in human experience, physicality represents a key manner in which humans inculcate fidelity.  Physical intimacy within marriage best exemplifies this truth and is especially relevant to our study in light of the biblical motif of YHWH/Christ as the bridegroom to the people of God (Jer. 31:32, Isa. 54:5, Hos. 2:7, Eph. 5).  Christians have always rejected pre-marital sex and adultery not only because of the destructive consequences of disease and heartache, but because giving one’s self physically over to one’s spouse is the ultimate pledge of one’s loyalty and fidelity.  To give one’s body to another is to give one’s very being.  If one gives their very physical being away haphazardly, either for the sake of a pleasant weekend or in an affair, how can ultimate fidelity ever be established?[1]  If one gives away his very enfleshed self to anyone who strikes his fancy, nothing will be left over to give to one’s spouse as an ultimate pledge.  This is why the explanation that an act of infidelity was “just sex” is never convincing to the wronged partner. 

Therefore, bodily self-gift is a necessary means of giving assurance of fidelity to the absolute promise of Christ the bridegroom of the Church.  It is not sufficient to treat the sacraments as small, symbolic tokens of love in the manner of a husband who occasionally gives trinkets to his wife.[2]  Any relationship may be poorer without gestures like these small gifts, but a marriage is not a marriage in a biblical sense without fleshly consummation and unity (Gen. 2:24, Eph. 5:31).  Through fleshly self-giving one “knows” (yada) one’s spouse, that is, they gain a real participatory knowledge of their very physical being.  In the same manner, we can be no more certain of our justification and eternal life than to physically receive the very flesh and blood that was sacrificed for humanity on the cross (1 Cor. 11:26) and raised in anticipation of the general resurrection (Jn. 6:54).  There is no ambiguity as to whether or not one is justified by the work of Christ when Christ himself is present and gives believers that same body and blood that was sacrificed for them on the cross.  Just as baptism is a proleptic realization of the last judgment, so too paschal feast of the Lord’s Supper is the proleptic realization of the final bridal feast of the Lamb at the end of time (Rev. 19:6-9).

[1] Robert Jenson, Systematic Theology, 2 vols. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997-1999), 2:91-2.

[2] Carl Trueman’s analogy for the sacraments.  See: Carl Trueman, Grace Alone: Salvation as a Gift of God (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2017), 213-4.

From the draft manuscript for Jack D. Kilcrease, Justification by Word (Lexham Press, forthcoming).

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Luther on the Return to Baptism and Justification

Through the perpetual return to baptism the Christian is able to enter the reality of Jesus’ death and resurrection, although this event is historically distant.  Thus, a key implication of Luther and the historic Lutheran tradition’s teaching on communicatio idiomatum is that Christ’s humanity is not confined by time and therefore he can make himself available through the promise of the gospel in any era.  Herein we again encounter in Luther implicit appropriation of Scripture’s distinction between chronological time and kairological time.[1]  Even though Scripture does describe the history of salvation as an orderly development, there is a perichoresis of the ages.  God’s kairological time has manifested itself at specific points in chronological history.  Nevertheless, the Lord is not bound to the chronological order of history in manifesting his kairological salvation.  Hence, the risen Jesus who transcends time makes the eschaton present to the believer at the appointed time of his redemption in baptism in order to actualize God’s electing and justifying purposes.  Christ thereby makes it possible to incorporate the believer into eschatological redemption in the present through a return to the kairological event of his baptism, just as baptism is a return to the kairological event of his death and resurrection. 

As Oswald Bayer observes: “Luther’s apocalyptic understanding of creation and history opposes modern concepts of progress.  For Luther, the only progress is return to one’s baptism, the biographical point of rupture between the old and new worlds. Creation, Fall, redemption, and completion of the world are not sequential advance, one after the other, but perceived in an intertwining of the times.”[2]

In emphasizing the possibility of returning to one’s baptism, Luther responds to the issues that gave rise to the problem of post-baptism sin. This problem in turn generated the Latin doctrines of penance, purgatory, and indulgences which he combated in his early Reformation theology.  Like the New Testament and the ante-Nicene Church,[3] Luther saw baptism as the apocalyptic rupture between the old person and new person in Christ.[4]

[1] Elert, The Christian Ethos, 286-9; Paul Tillich, The Interpretation of History (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1936).

[2] Oswald Bayer, “Martin Luther,” in The Reformation Theologians: An Introduction to Theology in the Early Modern Period, ed. Carter Lindberg (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2004), 51-2.

[3] See: Everett Ferguson, Baptism in the Early Church: History, Theology, and Liturgy in the First Five Centuries (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2009).

[4] Trigg, Baptism in the Theology of Martin Luther, 92-8.

From the draft manuscript for Jack D. Kilcrease, Justification by Word (Lexham Press, forthcoming).