Thank God We Are Beggars

By Rev. Harrison Goodman

He died an outlaw in the same little town he was born in. They found a scrap of paper with scribbled writing in his pocket. “We are beggars. This is true.” Still, he changed the world. It wasn’t in a “You mean everything to me pop ballad” way. Rather, it was in a “You’re allowed to believe differently than your government” kind of way, a “You can read the Bible in your own language” kind of way and in a “There is a church that preaches the Gospel purely and administers the sacraments rightly” kind of way. His name was Martin Luther and yes, October 31 has come and gone, but we are still celebrating the fact that 500 years ago he nailed those 95 Theses to the door of a cathedral and sparked the Reformation. Emperors gave him their ears. Magistrates sought and followed his advice. There’s even a middling denomination that bears his name and loves to argue endlessly on the Internet. That last part isn’t so impressive, but Luther was. Still, he died thinking this:“We are beggars.”

We have hundreds of writings from him—thousands of pages. This little scrap of paper might not be his most exhaustive treatment on a topic, but it’s profound enough. It isn’t just a statement on our sinful, broken nature. It’s a call to look up. After all, beggars can’t be choosers.

We act like that’s always a bad thing. You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit. God’s running the show. We are beggars. Deal with it. It’s too easy to limit God to the Being who’s stronger than you. It’s too common to say we get what we deserve. It’s too simple to look around at the misery and death in the world and assume beggars can never hope for more than scraps.

Luther meant more than “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.” He meant it’s not about you at all. Begging is not about what you can earn or buy. It’s not even about what you deserve. It’s about the One to whom you’re begging. Begging relies totally on the one you ask. What kind of God do you have? St. Paul tells us about the heart of that God we have and how we don’t get what we deserve: “The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost” (1 Timothy 1:15).

God doesn’t reveal Himself in power, but in mercy. If you want to know who you’re begging to, look to the cross of Christ. See what our God was willing to pay to save you. It isn’t just that He can work miracles, although that’s very compelling. It’s that He loves you enough to pay for all your needs of body and soul. He does this not with gold or silver, but with His holy and precious blood and His innocent suffering and death.

God isn’t just stronger than you. He loves you. We are beggars, but God is merciful. This focus is at the heart of Lutheranism. We are beggars. We dare to look to mercy instead of works. We dare to trust in something bigger than ourselves. We check pride at the door and find identity in Christ. We dare to find hope in audacious places like water and Word. Lutheranism isn’t about Luther. It isn’t a wholesale endorsement of everything he ever did or said. It’s about Jesus. It’s about mercy.

Christianity isn’t behaving until you earn something nice from Him. It’s begging, and when you know who your God is, it’s comfort. This is true, even for dying men. God is merciful enough to do more than drop care packages from heaven to the people who deserve them. He takes flesh and bears sin for you upon a cross. He pays for everything we beg Him for with holy blood. He dies and rises for you, not because of who you are, but because of Who He is. We are beggars, but Jesus is merciful. We beg based on a gift already given. We pray based on an identity He insists we have. He commands us to be baptized. He demands we be brought to Him and given life. He doesn’t hide in heaven and wait for us to earn our place with Him. He descends to place Himself right into the midst of everything going wrong in our lives, the things done to us and the things we did to ourselves and each other, and carries us out of this valley of death into life.

So we beg a God who will not be far off, and He answers in the same blood that purchased our release. We eat and drink His Body and Blood and so we know where our God is, and more, who He is: mercy.

Rev. Harrison Goodman serves as pastor at St. Paul Lutheran Church in Carroll, Nebraska. He frequently teaches for Higher Things at conferences and via podcast.