Arguing with Myself

I have an irritating habit of arguing with myself. Sometimes I can't complete a single sentence because halfway through my statement, I think of a counterargument, at which point I feel compelled to stop and complete the mental debate before restarting my sentence. For my family members who have to wait through these silent altercations, this is maddening.

I suffered from one of these interior disputes for a couple days after my last blog post. Part of me thought I had properly answered the question I set forth, "What does the 500th anniversary of the Reformation mean to non-Lutherans and non-Christians?" The other part of me said I missed the mark. I wrote an entire post about the Reformation without mentioning the Bible once.

The heartbeat of the Reformation was Sola scriptura, Scripture alone. How could I leave this out? But if I said all the answers are in the Bible, would I alienate my non-Christian friends? Some of my best spiritual discussions have been with my agnostic and atheist friends. I don't want them to leave the conversation when I declare, "Scripture alone."

This inner debate raged until an image appeared before my eyes of two friends walking along a road and arriving at a fork. One insisted, "I feel we should go to the left." The other said, "No, I feel the correct direction is right." They were at a standstill because there was no way to arbitrate their feelings.

Then the picture morphed, and I saw one friend held a map. "The map says left," he declared. The other friend might agree, or maybe he'd disagree. He could argue the map really indicates going right would take them to their destination, or he could argue that the map was inaccurate, possibly printed before the road's existence. Either way a discussion has started because their statements left the realm of feelings and entered the world of evidence and rational thought.

Should Sola scriptura end all conversation with friends who oppose my belief in the inerrancy of Scripture? No, it opens the door. Since the Bible is a collection of historical documents, of primary sources, we can discuss it whether or not we agree on inerrancy. If you think I am misunderstanding the document, please share your view on its interpretation. If you consider the Bible corrupt beyond all usefulness, tell me why. I welcome conversation because I hold a map in my hand, and my spirituality is grounded in the arena of reason.

Today I join Luther in inviting my friends to the conversation, but I differ from him in one great way. When no one showed up for his debate, he walked home. I, on the other hand, will hang around and debate myself.

Photo by DodgertonSkillhause at Morguefile.com

When No One Shows Up

The November air nipped at the custodian’s fingers as he pasted a paper to the church door, its Latin lines indecipherable to him and most of the other people who would walk through the door—some kind of academic stuff that theologians worried about.

Not the typical picture of Luther nailing his Ninety-five Theses to the Castle Church door, but probably closer to the truth. We don’t actually know what happened five hundred years ago. We’re not certain the theses were posted on October 31, 1517, or that a nail was used or even that Luther posted them himself. We do know it wasn’t the act of defiance many history books imply.

In posting the theses, Luther was inviting fellow theologians to debate a doctrinal issue raised by the traveling preacher, Tetzel, who was an old-fashioned version of a televangelist. “Could dropping a coin in the coffer free a soul from purgatory, or was this a scam unauthorized by the Church?” Luther asked.

However, on the day appointed for the debate, no one showed up. No one to debate. No one to observe. How long Luther sat there, alone, waiting, we do not know. How he felt as he trudged back to his residence is an equal mystery.

The debate had failed, but the Ninety-Five Theses hadn't, because Luther did one other boring act. He mailed copies to a couple friends for input. When Christopher Scheurl, a printer in Nuremberg, saw the theses, he printed them. Within a few months they were translated into German, and a fire spread throughout Europe.

As the 500th anniversary of this event approaches, my image of it has changed. I no longer see a bold Luther nailing his challenge to the church door. I envision a lonely Luther sitting in a cold room, wondering why no other theologian cared enough about the souls of his parishioners to discuss the way to heaven. But I also sense the invisible hand of God moving through events to begin a dialogue that continues to this day.

I don’t intend this post as a statement for or against Lutheran doctrine. In fact, I started my personal contemplation of the Reformation with the question, “What does this anniversary mean to non-Lutherans and even non-Christians?” My conclusion is that truth matters. Dialogues with friends help us progress toward the truth; but once we find the truth, we need courage to live for it and leave the results to God.