“We Are Beggars, That Is True”

by Jason S. Heath

These six words, the last words of Martin Luther, also encapsulate his vision of the ground of Christian experience.  For Luther, man stands before God as a beggar with empty hands: a man in need with nothing to offer.  And this is exactly where God wants him to be.

 Early in Luther’s life, as a monk, he became deeply conscious of his own sinfulness before God.  The resultant feeling of Anfechtung – variously translated as dread, despair, and anxiety – hung over him like a dark shadow.  He obsessively confessed sins for hours in the monastery, fearful that he might omit some fault and incur God’s wrath.

 As Luther’s despair drove him to search the scriptures, he began to see that God justifies people through faith rather than their works.  The righteousness of God, rather than something to attain through good work. was “the passive righteousness with which merciful God justifies us by faith.”[1]  Rather than man attempting to work to appease God, he must realize he is a beggar and humbly accept God’s gift of justification.  When Luther’s consciousness of his need was joined to a knowledge of God’s gift to us, the result for Luther was so sweet: “Here I felt I was altogether born again and had entered paradise itself through open gates.”[2]

 And so the role of the law was not to empower us to achieve righteousness before God, but to help us understand just the opposite:

 Although the commandments teach things that are good, the things taught are not done as soon as they are taught, for the commandments show us what we ought to do but do not give us the power to do it.  They are intended to teach man to know himself, that through them he may recognize his inability to do good and may despair of his own ability.[3]

A man must be taught by the law to know himself…. and [see] himself to be so great a sinner that he can find no means how he may be delivered from his sin by his own strength, endeavours and works.[4]

 For many of Luther’s contemporaries, their consciousness of sin was exceeded by their confidence in their own abilities to achieve righteous lives.  Thus, while they were beggars, they were “beggars on the move”.  Sinners, yes, but getting better all the time!  One day, God would declare them righteous – because they had, by their own efforts, already become righteous.  In the Augustinian model of progressive justification, “God had committed himself to bestow grace on everyone who does the best he can”[5]

 On the contrary, for Luther no one could be justified or grow in Christ who trusted in his own abilities.  In fact, The reverse was true – the man who despaired of his own abilities only then comes to the point where God can actually reach him.  And just as it is in justification, so in sanctification:  “It ought to be the first concern of every Christian to lay aside all confidence in works and increasingly to strengthen faith alone and through faith to grow in the knowledge, not of works, but of Christ Jesus…”[6]

 Such has been the teaching of many spiritual giants through the centuries: to truly grow in Christ and be able to serve him, we must first see our own inabilities.  “Anyone who serves God will discover sooner or later that the greatest hindrance to his work is not others but himself.”[7]  What these men are highlighting is the necessity of the Romans 7 experience of despair of self-effort that Paul describes:

 I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out… For in my inner being I delight in God's law; 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.  What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?[8]

 So it is this understanding of the futility of self-effort which opens the door to coming to God on his terms: as beggars, with nothing to offer him but our selves.  The beggar is the only kind of Christian who is useful to God.  All others have as their agenda to impress God with their performance, resulting in the dread and despair, the Anfechtungen, that Luther felt.  Consciousness of his own sin was not enough to deliver him from this – he still trusted in his own abilities and disciplines as a monk (his “monkery”, as he called it) to overcome his sin.

 And so how does a Christian live a life of obedience to God’s commands?  Not first by striving, but by receiving what Christ has given:

 If you wish to fulfill the law and not covet, as the law demands, come, believe in Christ in whom grace, righteousness, peace, liberty and all things are promised you.  If you believe, you shall have all things; if you do not believe you shall lack all things.[9]

 Such an approach to sanctification, while it irks the human pride which wants to just exert its own effort, without dependence on anyone, in the end brings freedom.  Luther as a monk strove hard by discipline and works to purify himself before God, but doubts constantly plagued him:  Would it ever really be good enough for God?  Is there something I have overlooked?  It was not until he despaired of his self-effort that he found true freedom, a freedom he describes in Freedom of a Christian as “freedom from works”, that is, freedom from the harried treadmill lifestyle of trying to be “good enough” for God, and freedom from the fear of falling short.

 This healthy despair of self-effort and the understanding of ourselves as beggars before God is surely the solution to many spiritual ills that persist today.  The spiritual pride that infects many hearts – patting ourselves on the backs because we are such hard-working, loyal followers of Christ (as opposed to those other people…) – needs to be confronted with this vision of “beggarhood” before God.  Many others, like Luther the monk, see themselves as falling short spiritually, and focus on their failures, responding with vows to do better, to try harder, to read more scripture, to pray more often, when the first thing they need to do is to give up trusting in these efforts and to come to God empty-handed, relying on his resources to move forward, and confident of his acceptance in spite of their failures.

 May we all recognize that true spiritual life starts here: with empty hands.  “We are beggars, that is true.”

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[1] Martin Luther, introduction to Commentary on Galatians, quoted in Mark Noll, Turning Points, p. 159.

[2] Luther, introduction to Commentary on Galatians, quoted in Noll, p. 159.

[3] Luther, Commentary on Galatians.

[4] Luther, Commentary on Galatians.

[5] Timothy George, Theology of the Reformers, p. 66.

[6] Luther, Freedom of a Christian.

[7] Watchman Nee, Release of the Spirit, p. 9.

[8] Romans 7:17, 22-24

[9] Luther, Freedom of a Christian.