Martin Luther and the Protestant Reformation

This is part of a series on the history of Christianity. Previous articles can be found here.

H. Richard Niebuhr once said, “The great Christian revolutions come not by the discovery of something that was not known before. They happen when somebody takes radically something that was always there.”[1] We have seen that Martin Luther was not the first person to rediscover justification by faith articulated by Augustine and the Scriptures, yet his legacy is that of the father of the Reformation. In many ways this is accurate and his place in history is well deserved, but the birth of the Protestant Reformation cannot be placed solely on his shoulders. It is better understood in context of great upheaval in Europe in the 15th and 16th centuries.

Martin Luther was born in 1483 and become a monk as a teenager. He constantly wrestled with sin and his monastic superior encouraged him to study the Scriptures at the newly founded University of Wittenberg. Teaching and writing would become his life, and his writing would help solidify his legacy. Noll says that Luther “published some kind of treatise, sermon, lecture, or biblical exposition on the average of once every three weeks during his adult life.”[2]

We must also recognize that contemporary to Luther were several historical luminaries and events. Nicolas Copernicus (1473-1543), Henry VIII (1491-1547), Michelangelo (1475-1564), and Christopher Columbus (1451-1506) were all alive at the same time as Luther. He was alive at a time of great intellectual change and exploration. The printing press was invented around 1440, and without it the traction that the Reformation had is almost unthinkable.

Political and economic changes were also underway that had significant impacts on the ability of the Reformation to spread from and unimportant city in Germany across Europe in a matter of decades. The prototype of modern nationalism was on the rise as local monarchs started to harness power within their realm without regard for Rome or the Holy Roman Emperor. The economy began to recover in the 15th century after downturn and difficulty in the wake of the Plague. Indeed, without a recovering economy it is hard to imagine the great explorations that were undertaken by Columbus, Magellan, and Balboa.

Even within this atmosphere of change, it is important to recognize Luther’s contribution to the Protestant Reformation and Noll[3] is right to affirm the Diet of Worms in 1521 as a turning point in Christian History. Luther wrestled for years with his sin, seeing himself as a wretched creature unworthy of a terrifying God of justice and righteousness. The more he studied the more he worried about the state of his soul. This drove him to extreme obedience where he could echo the words of Paul in Philippians 3:2-6.

Look out for the dogs, look out for the evildoers, look out for those who mutilate the flesh. For we are the circumcision, who worship by the Spirit of God and glory in Christ Jesus and put no confidence in the flesh—though I myself have reason for confidence in the flesh also. If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day,of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.

But as he studied Romans, verses 1:16-17 continued to bother him: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith for faith, as it is written, ‘The righteous shall live by faith.’” But suddenly the meaning of this passage hit him and he could resonate with Paul in the rest of that passage in Philippians 3:7-11.

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.

In 1520 he published five books among many smaller works that brought the ire of Rome and local church officials in Germany. In June of that year a Papal bull was issued decrying Luther’s works and in April of the following year he was called to the Diet of Worms under the authority of a young Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor and King of Spain, to recant his contrarian views. Luther’s heroic stand on the authority of the Bible over against the church and tradition is more remarkable when you consider the secular powers against whom he stood. Charles V controlled more European territory than any ruler since Charlemagne, and had the authority of Rome behind him. Without regard for his own safety, Luther stood his ground and declared, “Unless I am convinced by the testimony of the Scriptures or by clear reason (for I do not trust either in the pope or in councils alone, since it is well known that they have often erred and contradicted themselves), I am bound by the Scripture I have quoted and my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and I will not retract anything, since it is neither safe nor right to go against conscience.”[4]

The importance of this event is perhaps more symbolic than effective in its long-term impact on Protestantism. But its symbolism is important and far-reaching when you consider part of the official response by the Diet. “But if it were granted that whoever contradicts the councils and the common understanding the church must be overcome by Scripture passages, we will have nothing in Christianity that is certain or decided.”[5] In uttering these words, Johann Eck could not have known how prescient they were. As Alister McGrath argues, this was Christianity’s dangerous idea. The Bible could and should be interpreted by all people.


[1] Quoted in Philip Yancey. What’s So Amazing About Grace. 13-14

[2] Mark A. Noll. Turning Points: Decisive Moments in the History of Christianity. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2000), 164.

[3] Ibid, 151ff

[4] Ibid, 154

[5] Ibid, 155

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