Dear Friends,
How does a “giant” in the faith deal with the untimely death of one of his much-loved children? The answer? With honesty and transparency, not denying their inner struggles. Today’s selection is about the great Reformer, Martin Luther, who lost his beloved daughter Magdalena to death at the age of 13. During that time, he shared his struggle of waffling back and forth between faith and grief. It is found in the “One Year Book of Christian History,” by Michael and Sharon Rusten – the entry for today – September 20. I found it good (at times tearing up). I pass it on to you so that you might see the humanity of this man of God. Enjoy.
“Martin Luther, the father of the Reformation, married Katharina Von Bora, a former nun, in 1525. Luther and Katie, as he called her, had six children, Hans, Elizabeth, Magdalena, Martin, Paul and Mararetha. When Hans was sixteen (in 1542) the Luther’s sent him to Torgau to school, because Wittenburg did not have an appropriate school for his education. Scarcely had he arrived there than his thirteen year old sister, Magdalena, became deathly ill. Martin Luther wrote to Hans’s teacher:
“My daughter Magdalena is nearing her end and will soon go to her true Father in heaven, unless he sees fit to spare her. She longs so much to see her brother, for they were very close. So, I am sending a carriage for him, in the hope that a sight of him will revive her. I’m doing all I can lest afterwards the thought of having neglected anything should torment me. Please ask him to come at once, without telling him why. I shall send him back as soon as she has either fallen asleep in the Lord or been restored to health. Farewell in the Lord.”
Hans returned home, but Magdalena’s health continued to deteriorate. Luther prayed, “Oh, God, I love her dearly, but Thy will be done.” Then he asked her, “Magdalena, my little girl, would you like to stay with your father here and would you just as gladly go to your Father in heaven?” She answered, “Yes, dearest father, as God wills.” It grieved Luther that in spite of all the blessings he had received from God, he found himself unable to give thanks in this situation.
On September 20, 1542, as Magdalena’s death drew near, Luther knelt at her bedside, praying through his tears that God would receive his little one. Katie stood at the end of the room, unable to watch as Magdalena died in her father’s arms. Turning to his grieving wife, Luther said with compassion, “dearest Katie, let us think of the home our daughter has gone to. There she is happy and at peace.”
As Magdalena was laid in her coffin, Luther remarked, “My darling, you will rise and shine like the stars and the sun.” Then he said to Katie, “How strange to know that she is at peace, and all is well, and yet we are so sorrowful.” To his friends who came to mourn with him he said, “Let us not be sad. I have sent a saint to heaven. If mine could be like hers, I would gladly welcome death at this very hour.” Luther wrote the epitaph for her gravestone:
Here, I, Magdalena,
Doctor Luther’s little maiden,
Resting with the saints,
Sleep in my narrow bed.
I was a child of death,
For I was born in sin,
But now I live redeemed, Lord Christ,
By the blood you shed for me.”
Three days after her death, Luther wrote a letter to his friend Justus Jonas:
“I expect you have heard that my beloved Magdalena has been born again into Christ’s everlasting kingdom. Although my wife and I ought to rejoice because of her happy end, yet such is the strength of natural affection that we cannot think of it without sobs and groans which tear the heart apart. The memory of her face, her words, her expression in life and death – everything about our most obedient and loving daughter lingers in our hearts so that even the death of Christ (and what are all deaths compared to his?) is almost powerless to lift our minds above the loss. So, would you give thanks to God in our stead? For hasn’t he honored us greatly by glorifying our child?”
“The death of a loved one,” says Rusten, “brings sorrow to everyone. It is important not to deny these feelings. Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus, even though he knew he was going to raise him from the dead. God intends that we mourn.”
One of my favorite definitions of faith is: “Faith is not belief without doubt; it is trusting God in spite of our doubts.” The very difficult events of life can knock us off balance so much that we struggle with questions, wrestle with intense feelings, and entertain doubts in regard to why God would permit certain things to happen. And in such situations, it is helpful to know that some of our greatest heroes of the faith went through similar struggles (Job, Paul in II Cor. 1:8-10, Peter in his denial of Jesus…). Times when our eyes of faith can’t see things as clearly as we should until the dust that was stirred up by them settles. And if you are in one of those times, remember that Jesus, “sympathizes with us in our weaknesses” (Heb. 4:15). He does not expect us humans to respond as if we are superhuman.
How does a “giant” in the faith deal with the untimely death of one of his much-loved children? The answer? With honesty and transparency, not denying their inner struggles. Today’s selection is about the great Reformer, Martin Luther, who lost his beloved daughter Magdalena to death at the age of 13. During that time, he shared his struggle of waffling back and forth between faith and grief. It is found in the “One Year Book of Christian History,” by Michael and Sharon Rusten – the entry for today – September 20. I found it good (at times tearing up). I pass it on to you so that you might see the humanity of this man of God. Enjoy.
“Martin Luther, the father of the Reformation, married Katharina Von Bora, a former nun, in 1525. Luther and Katie, as he called her, had six children, Hans, Elizabeth, Magdalena, Martin, Paul and Mararetha. When Hans was sixteen (in 1542) the Luther’s sent him to Torgau to school, because Wittenburg did not have an appropriate school for his education. Scarcely had he arrived there than his thirteen year old sister, Magdalena, became deathly ill. Martin Luther wrote to Hans’s teacher:
“My daughter Magdalena is nearing her end and will soon go to her true Father in heaven, unless he sees fit to spare her. She longs so much to see her brother, for they were very close. So, I am sending a carriage for him, in the hope that a sight of him will revive her. I’m doing all I can lest afterwards the thought of having neglected anything should torment me. Please ask him to come at once, without telling him why. I shall send him back as soon as she has either fallen asleep in the Lord or been restored to health. Farewell in the Lord.”
Hans returned home, but Magdalena’s health continued to deteriorate. Luther prayed, “Oh, God, I love her dearly, but Thy will be done.” Then he asked her, “Magdalena, my little girl, would you like to stay with your father here and would you just as gladly go to your Father in heaven?” She answered, “Yes, dearest father, as God wills.” It grieved Luther that in spite of all the blessings he had received from God, he found himself unable to give thanks in this situation.
On September 20, 1542, as Magdalena’s death drew near, Luther knelt at her bedside, praying through his tears that God would receive his little one. Katie stood at the end of the room, unable to watch as Magdalena died in her father’s arms. Turning to his grieving wife, Luther said with compassion, “dearest Katie, let us think of the home our daughter has gone to. There she is happy and at peace.”
As Magdalena was laid in her coffin, Luther remarked, “My darling, you will rise and shine like the stars and the sun.” Then he said to Katie, “How strange to know that she is at peace, and all is well, and yet we are so sorrowful.” To his friends who came to mourn with him he said, “Let us not be sad. I have sent a saint to heaven. If mine could be like hers, I would gladly welcome death at this very hour.” Luther wrote the epitaph for her gravestone:
Here, I, Magdalena,
Doctor Luther’s little maiden,
Resting with the saints,
Sleep in my narrow bed.
I was a child of death,
For I was born in sin,
But now I live redeemed, Lord Christ,
By the blood you shed for me.”
Three days after her death, Luther wrote a letter to his friend Justus Jonas:
“I expect you have heard that my beloved Magdalena has been born again into Christ’s everlasting kingdom. Although my wife and I ought to rejoice because of her happy end, yet such is the strength of natural affection that we cannot think of it without sobs and groans which tear the heart apart. The memory of her face, her words, her expression in life and death – everything about our most obedient and loving daughter lingers in our hearts so that even the death of Christ (and what are all deaths compared to his?) is almost powerless to lift our minds above the loss. So, would you give thanks to God in our stead? For hasn’t he honored us greatly by glorifying our child?”
“The death of a loved one,” says Rusten, “brings sorrow to everyone. It is important not to deny these feelings. Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus, even though he knew he was going to raise him from the dead. God intends that we mourn.”
One of my favorite definitions of faith is: “Faith is not belief without doubt; it is trusting God in spite of our doubts.” The very difficult events of life can knock us off balance so much that we struggle with questions, wrestle with intense feelings, and entertain doubts in regard to why God would permit certain things to happen. And in such situations, it is helpful to know that some of our greatest heroes of the faith went through similar struggles (Job, Paul in II Cor. 1:8-10, Peter in his denial of Jesus…). Times when our eyes of faith can’t see things as clearly as we should until the dust that was stirred up by them settles. And if you are in one of those times, remember that Jesus, “sympathizes with us in our weaknesses” (Heb. 4:15). He does not expect us humans to respond as if we are superhuman.
As I hurried to cut my grass (in the dark) for a church picnic the next day, I did not see a tree branch which I hit at a fairly good clip on my ride on mower. I suffered a gash to the top of my head and concussion which left me foggy minded for a couple days. The Lord did not expect me to be sharp and alert the next day! It takes time to recover after the events of life deal a strong blow! The Lord knows that and walks with us through the process.
Because we Stand in Grace, Pastor Jeff
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