G is for Grace

But if the fear of God is not morbid, we owe it to one another, to America, to explain why it isn't. Again, consider Luke. Throughout his gospel -- also in his second volume, the book of Acts -- what is it about God that enables some sinners to fear God? Finally, it is God's mercy. That is hardly morbid. True, along with God's mercy there is also a show of might: stilling the tempest, granting pregnancy to post-menopausal Elizabeth and Mary the virgin, lighting up the Judean dark. But that is always might in the service of mercy. In every case it is the strong God showering upon undeserving sinners some magnificent, unexpected favor. But is it that, God's kindness, which makes beneficiaries afraid of their benefactor? Not kindness alone but in the end, yes, it is kindness. Put it in terms of law and gospel: God-fearing is something which the law, at best, can initiate but only the gospel can complete.

Remember Luke's account of the widow of Nain. What was it that Jesus did at her son's funeral which terrified the mourners? Did he thunder at them for their sin? Not this time. Did he warn them about hell, as on occasion he could do? No, the Lord "had compassion" and said "Don't cry" and then raised the dead boy back to life. Then first, not before, "fear seized them all." Then first did it dawn on them that God was "visiting his people" -- "visit" as in "visual." God had come to "see" them. And nothing could make them feel so naked, so unpresentable, as when they were being looked at by this God, the forgiver. I once heard of a woman who had been terminally ill, that is, until an unforeseen medical breakthrough cured her. A reporter asked her how she felt about her cure. "I didn't realize how sick I was," she said, "until I got better." Only then could she recognize the dreadful truth.

"The Adoration of the Shepherds" Klaus Zurner

Luke tells of the time Peter the fisherman was down on his luck and Jesus filled his boat with fish, gratis. That was gospel. But what was Peter's response? Did he say, "My, what a lovely catch?" Or, "How can I ever thank you?" No, he said, "Depart from me for I am a sinner." That is what the law had been trying to get him to see, but without success. Only the gospel finally freed him to say that and mean it. Ultimately "'twas grace that taught my heart to fear." I know a man who almost never weeps over his sin. But when he finally does, it is not because he is threatened or rebuked or ridiculed but rather because he is overwhelmed by some astonishing, utterly undeserved act of mercy. Only then can he truly confess, "Depart from me for I am a sinner."

It was out of fear, fear of God, that Peter said that. We know that because of Jesus' reply, "Don't be afraid." Notice what Jesus is not saying. He does not say, "Aw, you're not so bad" or "so who's perfect" or "we all have our faults." Not for a moment does Jesus minimize the sin which Peter is finally confessing. Neither is Jesus saying that Peter's fear is groundless, as if he had never had any reason to be afraid in the first place. No, Jesus lets the gospel bring this sinner to the terror which the law by itself had been unable to consummate. Only then, once Peter recognizes there truly is Someone to be afraid of, does Jesus intervene with his follow-through, "Don't be afraid."

Jesus does do that, too. Having evoked Peter's fear, he then relieves him of it. "'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, 'twas grace my fears relieved." Grace does both. And that happens not just once but over and over. Remember how Luther begins his explanation of each commandment, "We should fear and love God so that . . . ." American religiosity would say instead, Make up your mind, either fear or love God, one or the other but not both. Still, God demands both and, with the gospel, provides both -- and the one because of the other. The One whom we come to love most is also the One the loss of whose love we most fear. And once given that fear, we can be released from it only by that same One, whose love is potent enough to calm it.

But isn't there still something morbid about that? Suppose it is the divine love that finally frees us to fear God. Even so, why should a loving God want us to be afraid in the first place, even momentarily? Isn't such fear destructive? The fear of God is indeed destructive. It is mortifying. The shepherds were scared almost to death. It was like being crucified. Ah, but that put them in very good company. It joined them to The Baby, the One they found "wrapped" in swaddling cloths and "laid" in a manger. That foreshadowed his death, when once again he would be "wrapped" and "laid," but then in gravecloths and a sepulchre. "This child," as old Simeon tells The Baby's mother, "is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel."