Martin Luther was born, 1483, in Eiselben, Germany. His parents were of peasant stock, though by ingenuity and hard work, his father had become fairly prosperous in the mining business. His childhood was equal parts severe and tender. His mother once beat him bloody for stealing a hazel nut. His father prayed nightly at the little boy's bedside. Seeing Martin's early promise, they spared no expense in procuring for their son the best education possible. His academic work justified their hopes, as he acquitted himself well at both the Latin schools and the University of Erfurt, finally achieving the highest degree then obtainable to a layman, the Master of Arts. As might be expected, Luther looked back fondly on his upbringing, describing his mother as "a woman of prayer" and holding his father in awe.

Luther's schooling was intended to make him a lawyer. But shortly after his graduation an event occurred that would change his life forever. As he was riding home one day, he was caught in a thunderstorm. A bolt of lightning struck his horse, killing the poor beast instantly. Terrified by his brush with death, Martin cried out, "Help, Anna, beloved saint! I will become a monk". Two weeks later, young Martin threw away the lucrative career his father had planned for him, and renouncing the world, entered the Augustinian monastery in Erfurt.

In the solitude of his cell, the young man got "in earnest" about saving his soul. At first, things went swimmingly. But then came his first mass and a crisis of conscience. Standing before the altar, Luther recited the prescribed words: "We offer unto Thee, the living, the true, the eternal God..." And suddenly, he was struck by what he had just said.

Unable to shake his sense of undoneness, Luther sought the help of his brethren. "How should a man be just with God?" became his only topic of conversation. These men, alas, were no better informed than their tormented comrade. And so, they told him everything they knew:

Though feeling unworthy, Luther followed the advice of his friend and, having procured his degree, began teaching theology at the University of Wittenberg. He began by lecturing on the Psalms, which left him more hopeless than ever. But then, in 1515, Martin Luther--now 32 years old--turned to the Book of Romans. There, in the first chapter and seventeenth verse, he came to the passage of Scripture that would change his life forever. Let him describe it in his own words:

Astonishing thought! Martin Luther, born a Christian, baptized a Christian, confirmed a Christian, in the Christian ministry, teaching Christian theology, has--at last--become a Christian! And soon he would learn what it means to "suffer as a Christian". His suffering would come, not at the hands of the Turk or the Infidel--for that he could bear. But from his own brethren, "his guides, his acquaintances, the very people with whom he had taken sweet counsel and walked with into the house of God".

His confrontation with the Church began over the issue of "Indulgences". The Pope and his Cardinals had decided to rebuild St. Peter's Basilica. And if you have ever seen that church, you know that it would cost nothing but money. But how could the funds be secured? How could Germans and Frenchmen, the Dutch, and others be persuaded to give to the building of a church in Italy, one they would, no doubt, never see? Think about it for a minute. What did the people want more than anything else? The forgiveness of sin. And so, voila! there's the answer. Package the forgiveness of sin and put it up for sale!

The "smoothest operator" in Christendom, John Tetzel, was hired to sell these indulgences on commission. And what a salesman he was! Here's an excerpt from one of his sermons:

As soon as the coin in the coffer rings,

The soul from purgatory springs".

This was brute capitalism at its worst. In a deeply religious society, gripped by a paralyzing fear or purgatory, the demand was enormous. And happily, God's grace could now be bought--and at a good price too!

This "soaking" of his poor ignorant brethren outraged Martin Luther. And in response, on October 31, 1517, he walked to the church at Wittenberg, and nailed on its door his "95 theses" against the selling of indulgences. At the time, let it be understood, he still believed in purgatory and indulgences, but could not tolerate this crass selling of salvation. Some of the most barbed theses include:

These theses, in fact, were written only for the purpose of scholarly debate. But in God's Providence, they "fell into the wrong hands", were translated into German, and set the nation on fire. Good and patriotic men were scandalized at the thought of the Pope depleting the coffers of pious German people for the sake of building a monument to his own gigantic ego. And Luther, through no intention of his own, suddenly found himself in the eye of a storm.

The Dominican Friars rally to Tetzel's cause and try to talk and/or threaten Luther out of his positions. Failing at this, they appeal to the Pope, cite the loss of revenues due to the publication of the theses, and finally secure his cooperation in the suppression of this "heretic". Men are sent from Rome to plead with Brother Martin and, failing at that, intimidate him into recanting. Again, Luther stands firm. Finally, the brilliant John Eck challenges Luther to a debate in Leipzig. Luther accepts the contest, and demolishes Eck's every argument--in a revolutionary way--by appealing to Scripture!

Finally, as Martin will not be convinced or muzzled, the Pope resorts to the ultimate weapon: the papal bull. This is an official document formally condemning Luther's doctrine and calling for the burning of his books. Moreover, it would likely lead to the burning of the Reformer as well. This was a huge miscalculation. For until this time, Luther remained a loyal "Son of the Church" and never counseled anyone to leave her. But, when he saw that the truth could no longer be taught in the Church, and that it would be burned, no less, he repaid the Pope in kind: He publicly burned the Papal bull with the words, "As Thou hast vexed the Holy One of the LORD, may eternal fire vex thee." His defiance continued to grow, shortly thereafter writing a book entitled, "On the execrable bull of Antichrist; on the freedom of the Christian man". The break was final. In Luther's mind, the Pope was not only not the "Vicar of Christ on Earth", he was nothing short of "Antichrist". This Luther did with full knowledge of the consequences. From this day on, he expected to be burned at any time.

This theological controversy had serious political implications. For it took place in Medieval Europe, a world united by a common faith. Thus Luther was not only in danger of the Pope and his henchmen, but the Emperor as well. Finally, the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V (also a committed Catholic), called for a meeting of the various princes under his domain for the purpose of settling this religious dispute. And so, in the spring of 1521, the Diet met at Worms.

There a handful of Evangelical Electors (led by Frederick the Wise) stood before a throng of Princes and Prelates dedicated to silencing Luther or taking his head. The debate raged. Finally, Luther himself was summoned. He stood before this gorgeous array of royal and ecclesiastical splendor and commanded to retract his teaching. He tried to defend his doctrine, but they weren't there to discuss, but only to coerce. He parried with them, until, exasperated, Archbishop Eck got to the heart of the matter:

That was a foolish question. Luther would proceed to tell him, thereby defining the hallmark of Evangelical Christianity to this day. The words are as electrifying today as they were then:

Having said this, Martin the Monk, threw up his hands like a victorious knight, and marched out of the courtroom, fully expecting to lose his head by the morning.

By making the Scripture the only source of knowledge, Martin Luther became the greatest man of his age, towering over Michelangelo and Machiavelli, Copernicus and Da Vinci, for the "world, in all of its wisdom, did not know God". But Luther did, by simply believing "the foolishness" of Scripture.

No thanks to them abideth".

No final decision was made at that congress, and so Luther was permitted to go home. Yet he and his princely friends knew that they were "outvoted", and so it would only be a matter of time until Martin would be burned for heresy. And so, Luther's close friend, Frederick and some of the nobles conspired to have him "kidnapped". He was brought to a castle called "the Wartburg". There he remained in isolation for about ten months. What did he do there? He put his great principle into practice. If, after all, the Scripture was the only rule of faith and conduct, and if men needed to know this Scripture in order to believe and live rightly, then it follows that the Scripture must be translated into the common language so that ordinary, uneducated people could read it for themselves. And so, he occupied himself with perhaps his greatest task, translating the Bible into German. This he did with such consummate skill that he became virtually "the Father of the German Language". Soon, ordinary Germans could take the Sacred Book in hand, and--for the first time ever--"Drink from the fountain of Life".

Because of his controversy with the French, Charles V needed all of his associates (many of whom had converted to Lutheranism), and so--though personally abhorring evangelical religion--he allowed Luther to live out his natural life.

During this time, Luther married an ex-nun, Katharine von Bora, a woman who proved to be the "Desire of His Eyes". She both bore him several children, and bore with him to an unprecedented degree. Martin loved his wife deeply, but his humor and impulsiveness must have galled this sober lady to no end.

We husbands can learn from Martin's mistakes. We ought to love our wives, not only with the heart, but with the head as well. Wives, too can learn from Mrs. Luther. For in putting-up with such a numbskull, she became a real "Daughter of Sarah", who called the man "Lord", who had twice denied her.

Martin was also a tender father. For amid his extraordinary labors, he still found time to play with his children and even carve alphabet blocks for them with his own hand.

The remaining years of Luther's life, though often racked with illness--were super productive. He continued revising his translation of the Bible. He wrote extensively on almost every subject. He preached weekly. He lectured daily. He advised kings occasionally. He reformed the churches of Germany more to the Word of God. He wrote dozens of hymns for the people of God. He loved his wife deeply. He trained his children well. He played the lute exquisitely. He drank his beer with gusto.

He was a man's man. But more importantly, he was God's man. Martin Luther died in 1546, aged 63 years.

But Luther, like Abel, "being dead, yet speaketh". By his life and writings, he made many significant contributions to the people of God in every subsequent age. We lose much by not knowing them. I will close, therefore, by mentioning but a small part of his enormous legacy. Here, I must pass by the enormous theological donation he made to the Church, and cite only three of his personal traits from which we can learn so much.

"Let goods and kindred go,

This mortal life also;

The body they may kill,

God's truth abideth still;

His kingdom is forever."