Encore Post: On September 10th, 1838, Friedrich Wyneken stopped in Lima, Ohio, for supplies. There he met a German, who pleaded in tears with Pastor Wyneken to stay in the area awhile and preach to his countrymen and women, many of whom had not heard God’s Word or received the Lord’s Supper in years. With his heart breaking, Wyneken could not pass them by.
For eight days, he conducted services in Lima, in Putnam County to the north of Lima, and in Wapakoneta, in Auglaize County, to the south. With wonder, he reported that he preached nine times in these settlements and baptized fifteen people. Thirteen of them were older children, one an eighteen-year-old young woman, and another, the forty-year-old mother of two. He even confirmed a young married man, catechized but never communed. With joy, Wyneken wrote to Haesbaert:
“The people were so delighted to receive God’s Word and the Bread of Life once more, that I couldn’t thank the Lord enough for His love, because, at the very beginning of my ministry, He had led me to such hungry hearts.
Very reluctantly, young Pastor Wyneken left Ohio for Adams County, Indiana. “I regret now, that I didn’t stay longer with the Germans in western part of the State of Ohio,” he wrote the Executive Committee of the Pennsylvania Mission Society, “and did not visit more settlements, because there are no pastors there, and also, as far as I can tell from what I’ve been told, none have been visited by a circuit rider to date”
Impelled by a sense of duty, he forced himself to travel northwest on the Piqua Road, along the St. Mary River toward Fort Wayne. Wyneken’s route took him past Willshire, Schumm, and Van Wert, settlements he would later serve from Fort Wayne and Decatur, beginning in 1839.
Encore Post: “After you had left me at the train station in Havre De Grace,” Wyneken wrote from Fort Wayne to his friend, Johannes Häsbärt, “I felt like a stranger in a strange land for the first time.” But Fritz was not a man to stay lonely for long. He continued:
This feeling lasted for a day, until I arrived at Zelienople, not far from Pittsburgh. I bought a horse there and trotted out through the forested land, cheerfully and joyfully. I felt much better then. Whether I was alone or traveling in the best of company, I could, any time I wanted to, merely pull out my beloved Paul Gerhardt book or New Testament and put them back in my pocket when I was done. Sometimes my heart was so full of the sweet, cheerful grace of my Savior, that I had to laugh, to sing loudly, to have a joyful heart and to praise my Lord.
The frontier forests of Ohio and Indiana moved many first-time travelers to awe and wonder, even if few of them broke into song. Hugh McCulloch, a future United States Treasurer, a young lawyer in 1833, described the Michigan Road as follows:
It was perfectly straight, and the noble trees, nearly a hundred feet in height, stood on either side of it like a protecting wall. The birds were sighing blithely, and although my horse was my only companion, the wildness and novelty of the scene acted upon me like a tonic.
Wyneken set forth due west across Ohio, along the present route of U.S. Highway 30, towards Adams County, Indiana, and Jesse Hoover’s orphaned congregations. Along the way, Fritz first experienced legendary Western hospitality, often being given directions, company, refreshments, and lodging.
The journey proved long and hard for the young pastor, who was not accustomed to riding such long distances in the wilderness. The roads of the frontier were not much better than trails, often still filled with tree stumps. The late summer temperatures weighed heavily on most Germans, unaccustomed to the heat. These conditions slowed Wyneken down, giving him much time to wonder if he was strong enough to meet the challenges ahead. He drew comfort that God was indeed strong enough to use him to seek the lost. Eager to bring the Gospel to scattered pioneers, he rode on.
Encore Post: in late May 1838, Pastor Jesse Hoover died. In the frontier town of Fort Wayne, Indiana, his congregations mourned. Along with them, the whole region missed him, too. Lutheran pastors were rare in the dark forest. Elder Adam Wesel of St. Paul’s congregation wrote to the Mission Committee of the Pennsylvania Ministerium for help. Among other things, he pleaded:
“Have pity, honored fathers and brothers and send us a Pastor… If you canvas the northern part of Indiana you will soon see how important it is that you send us a faithful Shepherd. The harvest is great but unfortunately there are no workers. If it is not possible to send us a Pastor, dear brothers, then send us a circuit rider. We hunger and thirst for the Word of God.”
The letter arrived in Pennsylvania at a perfect time. The committee had planned to send a survey missionary West in September. But their candidate could not go. They were without a man to send.
In August 1838, a letter from Johann Häsbärt arrived at the headquarters of the Pennsylvania Ministerium Mission Society, highly recommending Friedrich Wyneken. The Executive Committee invited Wyneken to visit Lancaster, Pennsylvania, to meet with them. In the company of Häsbärt, Friedrich met with the committee.
So convinced of his fitness for the task and likely moved by his zeal for the work, the Missionary Society set aside its usual practice of waiting until September to send out its workers. They commissioned him to “move to Indiana, to search for scattered German Protestants to preach to them, and, if possible, gather them into congregations.” While the Committee intended Wyneken to make Indiana his base of operations, they also directed him to labor in Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri. Credentials in hand, Wyneken embarked upon his ministry as a Missionary, traveling in the company of Häsbärt as far as Havre de Grace, Maryland.
In Pittsburgh, Wyneken met for the first time C. F. Schmidt, the editor of Lutherische Kirchenzeitung, who would prove a close friend and the channel through which Wyneken’s first appeals would reach the world. From Pittsburgh, Wyneken traveled by train and canal boat to Zelienople, Pennsylvania, where he purchased a horse and cheerfully rode off to be, as his friend C. F. W. Walther would later describe him, the Lutheran Apostle of the West.
Encore Post: In early July 1838, Friedrich Wyneken and Christoph Wolf wandered around Baltimore, looking for Lutherans. After mistaking an Otterbein Methodist prayer meeting for a Lutheran worship service, they found their way to Second German Evangelical Lutheran st. Paul’s Congregation and her Pastor Johann Häsbärt.
Häsbärt was also an “awakened” pastor, who had led a group of Lutheran and Reformed Germans to secede from a congregation served by a Rationalist minister. He was very suspicious of Wyneken and Wolf, since in America, laymen, con-men, and “every expelled student or banished demagogue” regularly preyed on unsuspecting congregations to make some quick cash. It did not help at all that the two young men brought no written credentials or letters of introduction with them. Yet Wyneken’s warmth and sincerity inclined Häsbärt to put aside his misgivings. Häsbärt’s fears were finally set to rest when Captain Stuerje testified to their character.
To seal their newly formed friendship, Wolf preached the following Sunday. Soon after that, Häsbärt fell sick and was confined to his bed. Wyneken served his congregation as substitute pastor for several weeks. Sometime during this period, Wolf went West ahead of his companion, settling in Marietta, Ohio. When Häsbärt had recovered, he tried to convince his new Hanoverian friend to stay in the east. Failing to talk Wyneken into remaining, the Baltimore pastor advised, “You must not travel on to the West under your own authority. I will write the Missions Committee of the Pennsylvania Synod, advising that they should send you out as their missionary.”
The timing was providential. At the 1839 Convention of the German-Evangelical Lutheran Synod of Pennsylvania, its Missionary Society met. The executive committee reported that in the latter part of 1838, Missionary Kohler had decided to accept a call to Eastern Pennsylvania and was therefore unavailable for continued service in the West. During the Summer of 1838, Adam Wesel’s letter from Fort Wayne likely reached their hands.
Encore Post: What Friedrich Wyneken learned about German Lutherans in America sparked a struggle in the young man’s heart. Friedrich would later describe that moment to Candidate A. Biewend, himself on the verge of a decision to volunteer to serve in America:
Sadly, I have to confess that, as far as I know, neither love of the Lord, nor love of orphaned brothers drove me to America. I wasn’t even driven by a natural desire to go. I went there against my will and fighting the decision. I went because it was my duty. My conscience compelled me. It grieved me so much then and still grieves me now that I didn’t — still don’t–love the Lord more than that and that He had to drive me out to work like a slave. Even today, dreadful challenges and temptations, doubts and griefs come over my soul when I’m serving in my office over there. It comforts me, that I can say: “I have to be over there. You know, Lord, how I’d like to stay here at home. But if I stayed, I wouldn’t be able to look up to you and pray to you. So, then, I surely must go of my free will.
At peace with God and sure of his decision, Friedrich Wyneken obtained release from his duties as a tutor. After a memorable candidate’s examination, he was ordained with fellow candidate Christoph W. Wolf. Eighty-year-old General Superintendent Ruperti conducted the rite at St. Wilhadi Church of Stade on May 8th, 1837. With the help of Gottfried Treviranus, the Reformed pastor of St. Martin Church in Bremen, Wyneken and Wolf made the acquaintance of Captain Stuerje, who provided the pair of missionaries free passage to America on his ship, the Brig Apollo. Wyneken and Wolf arrived in Baltimore on June 28, 1838.
Encore Post: 216 years ago, on May 13, 1810, Friedrich Conrad Dietrich Wyneken was born in what would soon become the Kingdom of Hanover. On the 22nd, Fritz’s proud father, Pastor Heinrich Christoph Wyneken, baptized his youngest son at his parish, St. Andreas of Verden.
The Young Fritz Wyneken was the tenth of eleven children. He joined a family of dedicated and prominent servants of heavenly and earthly kingdoms. When Fritz was five years old, his father died, leaving his mother, Louise, to raise their eleven children. To accomplish this, she depended on a meager church pension, took in boarders, and called on family and friends to make ends meet.
Friedrich attended a Gymnasium in his hometown of Verden. At age seventeen, he enrolled at the University of Göttingen, the traditional Wyneken alma mater. After one year in Göttingen, Friedrich enrolled in the Theological Faculty at the University of Halle, where he remained until he graduated two and a half years later. At Halle, Friedrich found a mentor in Augustus Tholuck, a leader of the 19th-century German Awakening and supporter of the Prussian Union. During Friedrich’s years at Halle, Tholuck taught courses in New Testament, Dogmatics, and the History of Doctrine. Through his influence, Wyneken became an “awakened” and “believing” Christian.
Upon graduation, Wyneken served as a private instructor in the home of Consistorial Counselor von Henfstengel at Leesum, a town near Bremen. The area was a stronghold for the Awakening and a place where Friedrich Wyneken would grow both in his faith in Christ and zeal for missions. After four years in Leesum, he briefly served in a few other positions. His education and experience had made him into a strong, convinced pietist.
Wyneken returned to Germany in 1837, fully groomed for a promising career in the Church. He would soon read accounts of the spiritual needs of German Lutherans on the American frontier in mission societies’ journals. Perhaps he read the reports of survey missionaries, sent out by the Pennsylvania Ministerium to measure the need and do what they could to meet it. Perhaps it was the letters of F. A. Schmidt, pastor in southwest Michigan, who served as a missionary of the Basil Mission Society. In any case, what Wyneken learned about German Lutherans in America set off a struggle in the young man’s heart. He came to the conclusion that God was calling him to serve on the American frontier.
At peace with God and sure of his decision, Friedrich Wyneken obtained release from his duties as a tutor. After a memorable candidate’s examination, he was ordained at Stade with fellow candidate C. W. Wolf. General Superintendent Ruperti, his sister’s father-in-law, conducted the rite at St. Wilhadi Church of Stade on 8 May 1837. With the help of Gottfried Treviranus, the Reformed pastor of St. Martin Church in Bremen, Wyneken and Wolf made the acquaintance of Captain Stuerje, who provided the pair of missionaries free passage to America on his ship, the Brig Apollo.
Encore Post: The Ascension is an important event in the life of Jesus and in the life of the Church. It is the final part of the work which redeemed us: the cross, where our sins were paid for; the resurrection, where the power of the grave was broken; and the ascension, which restored all His honor, glory, authority, and power. From the early church over 1500 years ago until recent years, the church celebrated the Ascension on the fortieth day after Easter, or on the Thursday ten days before Pentecost. In the 21st century, many churches celebrate Ascension on the Sunday before Pentecost.
When He ascended, Jesus left His Church with a promise, a mission, and a blessing. He promised to be with us always until the end of time. He gave us our mission. We would join His mission to seek and save the lost by going to the whole world, being witnesses to His life, death, and resurrection, proclaiming the good news of salvation, baptizing, and teaching all He commanded us. As He ascended, He blessed them as Aaron and the High Priest did and as pastors do to this day, giving us His peace. He promised to be with us always, until the end of time itself.
Now the church waits patiently for him to return. On a day that no one knows, Jesus will return. On that day, he will raise our bodies from the grave, judge all the living and the dead, and bring an end to sin, death, and the power of the devil. God will live among us again, throwing the greatest marriage feast of all time. He will dry every tear from our eyes.
[Thirty-first in a series of posts on church words]
Encore Post:
Iconoclasm is a $0.25 word we don’t hear in our circles much these days. We are, however, surrounded by its effects in our American Christian culture. Iconoclasm is an English word derived from two Greek words (εἰκών, I-kohn, “image, figure” and κλάω, Klah-ō, “to break”). Iconoclasts throughout history, in various religions, and in the public sphere, have sought to “break images.” In earlier times, these breakings were literal, violent acts. We moderns are far more enlightened. We stick to character assassination rather than physical violence.
For this discussion, we’ll treat iconoclasm, aniconism, and iconophobia as roughly interchangeable terms. The first refers to destroying images. The second implies avoiding images. The third suggests a fear of images. Since the thumbnail image would make them all similarly uncomfortable, we can treat them as a single categorical group.
Iconoclasts are a historical minority in Christianity. Widespread use of Christian imagery, statuary, and crucifixes emerged only after Constantine’s legalization of Christianity in the Roman Empire, around the time of the Council of Nicaea in 325 AD.
Byzantine Emperor Leo III issued edicts between 726 and 730 AD against the veneration of images. Wealthier, Greek-speaking Byzantines in the West resisted these measures. Poorer, Slavic, Arabic, and Farsi-speaking Byzantines in the East embraced these policies. The issue may have been fueled by the strict outlawing of images in the theocracies of the Islamist world with whom the poorer Eastern Byzantines were interacting.
When the fires of iconoclasm dwindled again. The Eastern and Western Christian churches developed very different aesthetics regarding icons, or images, in the church. In the West, realism in painting and sculpture became the norm. Three-dimensional statues and paintings with a perceptible depth of field gained widespread use in churches and homes, primarily featuring images of Jesus’ crucifixion.
In the East, iconography developed into a specific type of flattened painting style. Eastern Christian icons use a field of vision where the near ground is lower in the picture and sometimes larger. The background is higher and sometimes smaller. These also make significant use of words and names in the image to identify the subjects and events, including primarily the crucifixion of Our Lord.
In both cases, preference was given to events in the life of Christ, the prophets and saints of the church.
In the Reformation era, Thomas Müntzer and Andreas Karlstadt (associates of Martin Luther) sought to purge the reforming churches in Germany by removing their statues and stained glass imagery. Luther opposed them. Afterward, Lutherans retained a love of sacred art and statuary at home and in their churches.
The radical reformers of the 16th century, including Calvin and Zwingli, rejected icons and statuary in their churches. These groups and their progeny certainly influenced American revivalist Christianity and, as a result, the common American expression of the faith. Ours could be called a semi-iconoclastic culture.
In the 16th & 17th centuries, one could scarcely find an example of a cross in use without some or most of them displaying a corpus (Jesus’s body). In modern America, we are nearly afraid of seeing Jesus on the cross … in a statuary form … on our walls at home or altars at church. (Paintings at home were fine). I think for German-American Lutherans, this stems from a uniquely American German expression: das ist Katolisch (that is Catholic).
[“I would also add that the specific Old Testament Commandments concerning graven images are right after they have left Egypt and aptly describe the mixture of animal and human characteristics in the idols of Egypt. Whereas God, who says make no such graven images, then immediately tells the Israelites how to make the Ark, the Menorah, the symbols of the Angels on the Ark, how to stitch Angels into the fabric and tapestry of the paraments for the Tabernacle, and then the Temples. Even in the tablets given to Moses, the Lord is clearly not opposed to sacred images, but to pagan, idolatrous ones.” (Rev. Larry R. Görlitz, in conversation, 22 May 2024) (cf. Exodus 25-28, 30-31, 35:30-39:43)]
German-American Lutherans were very sensitive to being confused by Baptists, Methodists, and the Reformed with Roman Catholics. Our chanted liturgy, non-English services, use of vestments, stodgy hymnody, and short preaching may have fed that confusion. But the reaction, das ist Katolisch, revealed a willingness to allow some practices and images to slip away. There was a need to be seen as un-Catholic.
These days, arguments will revolve around statements of Spiritualized Christianity like: “We worship a risen Jesus.” Or, “The empty tomb is our hope.” The rarity of a barren cross and the near complete absence of the open tomb in pre-enlightenment Christian art should warn us against those errors.
We are better to speak with Paul, “For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles” (1 Corinthians 1:22-23). The risen Jesus is the proof of it. But Christ and Him crucified is our salvation. It is the very price paid for sin. Jesus’s death frees us from the fear of the pain of death in ourselves. We ought to celebrate and revere it.
Also, don’t forget the condition of Jesus as the disciples saw Him in the resurrection. “Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe” (John 20:26-27). The lamb, who was slain and yet He lives, still bears the marks of our salvation in His flesh for us.
In our post on Justification, we talked about the very good news that Jesus saves us by grace alone, through faith alone, for Christ’s sake alone. When God declares us “not guilty” from his throne, we really are “not guilty” for our sins and will not be punished for them. This is because Jesus was punished in our place on the cross. We are now holy in God’s sight, as if we had never sinned in the first place.
There is one problem — we still sin. In one setting of the Divine Service in the Lutheran Service Book, we recite a passage from the First Letter of St. John to each other during confession, which makes this clear. We’re fooling ourselves if we think we don’t sin. (1 John 1:8-9) St. Paul discusses the war within himself between his new Adam and his old Adam in Romans 7. God solves this problem by sending his Holy Spirit to make us holy. This process is called sanctification.
The word is borrowed directly from Latin, meaning “to make holy.” Lutheran theologians use it in two ways. In general, sanctification includes everything the Holy Spirit does to make us holy: from when he uses baptism and the preaching of the gospel to create faith in our hearts to the day we die or Christ returns, and thereafter he purges sin from our lives forever. Because Catholics believe a person isn’t fully saved until sin is completely gone from their lives, they include time in purgatory after death. Lutheran theologians prefer to use it in a more specific way than to refer to everything the Holy Spirit does after God justifies us.
When we talk about sanctification in general, we talk about it as a process. Using God’s word and the Lord’s Supper, the Holy Spirit changes our hearts. Now we want to please God, not to bribe him to save us, but to serve God because we love him. We now do truly good works, and these, in turn, help us in the battle between our sinful self and our saintly self. Even then, these works are not strictly ours — God prepares them for us to do in the same way a teacher prepares homework for us to do. (Ephesians 2:10) This struggle lasts all our lives, but is complete the day we die. On that day, Jesus will greet us and say, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” and welcome us into his eternal kingdom.
[Twenty-Ninth in a series of posts on church words]
Encore Post:
When you talk to people about what they believe, you hear a bunch of ideas that sometimes do not seem to fit together. More often than not, they tell you more about what they do and not why they do it. A Roman Catholic might tell you they go to Mass every Sunday and do not eat meat on Fridays. A Seventh-day Adventist might tell you they go to church on Saturday, or a Muslim might tell you they pray five times a day facing Mecca. If they do get to what they believe is true, the teaching might seem random. What you need to know is their most important teaching — the one on which all the rest are built.
For Lutherans, the teaching on justification is the doctrine on which the faith stands or falls. The question is, how does God make a sinner a saint? We believe that justification is a legal proceeding — a forensic action. From his throne, God declares sinners not guilty, even though he knows full well that we are guilty. He does this because there is no longer a penalty to pay for our sin. Jesus took the sins of the whole world and paid the full price for them on the cross. In our place, God declared him guilty and sentenced him to death. When he said, “It is finished,” the debt we owed was stamped “paid in full.”
Yet justification does more than grant us forgiveness. When God said, “Let there be light,” it was created by the power of his word. When he says, “not guilty,” we are recreated. A new Adam or Eve is born in us. So it is not simply a legal fiction. We really are righteous because God says so. And that changes everything.
When we use a computer to write something, we can choose to right, left, or fully justify the document. What we mean is that all the letters will line up at the left, right, or both margins. In theological terms, God aligns our actions with his will and the law through a process called sanctification. It is not completed in us before we die. God completes us when we enter his presence at the end of our mortal life. But that is another post. It is on this point that we differ with Roman Catholics, Methodists, and Holiness denominations, among others.
Yet God’s word clearly teaches the truth of Lutheran teaching about Justification. The gospel is really true — we are justified only because God is gracious to us, that we believe and trust that it is true, all because Jesus was born, lived a perfect life, suffered, died, and rose again for our sake. It is what makes the gospel such sweet, good news.
