The great exchange.

Martin Luther and what the gospel says to disconsolate sinners.

Photo by Florian Chefai

The verse that remains at the heart of the gospel is, perhaps, 2 Corinthians 5:21, where Paul exclaims, “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” This, indeed, is the great nucleus of God’s good news, wherein the whole world is reconciled to him through the unfathomable transaction carried out by his Son who exchanges his righteousness for our sin, atoning for every last dreck of it. Lutheran professor and theologian Wade Johnston recently called this “the worst trade in history,” and it’s hard to argue with him. On that infernal cross on the outskirts of Jerusalem, the Lord of Glory embraced the depths of human agony, shame, and wickedness, shouldering the worst sin could offer so that sinners like you and me could be absolved and “called to freedom” in his name (Gal. 5:1).

By all accounts, this “great exchange,” as Martin Luther would reckon it, is a horrible deal — yet, Jesus endorses it anyway. He signs the bottom line with his own nail-pierced hand, ensuring that every single sinner who comes to him in faith and repentance will never be turned away empty-handed. He gives them everything. He gives them himself. These are among the most comforting notes in the symphony of the gospel. Disconsolate souls are made to find solace in this gracious exchange that has been enacted already on their behalf. The doubtful and distressed ones are, likewise, welcome to find refreshment in this wellspring of hope and mercy that streams from the Savior’s side. In a correspondence dated April 8, 1516, Luther did exactly that by writing to one of his fellow Augustinian friars, George Spenlein, encouraging him to revel in the heart of the gospel — that is, in this great exchange:

Therefore, my dear brother, learn Christ and him crucified. Learn to pray to him and, despairing of yourself, say: “Thou, Lord Jesus, art my righteousness, but I am thy sin. Thou hast taken upon thyself what is mine and hast given to me what is thine. Thou has taken upon thyself what thou wast not and hast given to me what I was not.” Beware of aspiring to such purity that you will not wish to be looked upon as a sinner, or to be one. For Christ dwells only in sinners. On this account he descended from heaven, where he dwelt among the righteous, to dwell among sinners. Meditate on this love of his and you will see his sweet consolation. For why was it necessary for him to die if we can obtain a good conscience by our works and afflictions? Accordingly, you will find peace only in him and only when you despair of yourself and your own works. Besides, you will learn from him that just as he has received you, so he has made your sins his own and has made his righteousness yours. (110)

Notably, Luther draws attention to one of the more common albeit misguided notions regarding the Christian faith — namely, that our aspirations to be sanctified constitute a work in us that slowly but surely lessens our need for grace. This, to be sure, is a malignant view of what it means to be “conformed to the image” of Christ. Although we rightly endeavor for righteous and virtuous lives, this aspiration should never be detached from our own self-despair. The faith that justifies never diminishes in desperation. As appalling as this might sound, however, this is where the good news resounds the loudest since those who despair of themselves are given the “word of the cross,” which announces that Christ Jesus has become our wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption (1 Cor. 1:18, 30). The whole arrangement has been settled already. It is finished, my friends.

Grace and peace to you.

Works cited:

Martin Luther, Luther: Letters of Spiritual Counsel, translated by Theodore G. Tappert (Vancouver, British Columbia: Regent College Publishing, 2003).