John Luther was very angry when he heard what his son had done. All the bright hopes that he had cherished seemed overthrown. It was not until two of his other sons died of the plague, and he heard it reported that Martin was dead also, that he forgave him. The friends at Erfurt were astonished. For two days they clustered round the convent, hoping to see Luther; but the gates remained closed and barred. A month passed away before they were able to speak to their former companion.
When Martin Luther entered the convent, he changed his name, and took that of Augustine.
What is the young monk doing? Is he full of joy because his sins are gone? No; sin is still there. Is he happy in his studies? No; he must work, not read. The monks at first treat him very harshly. He is made the porter, to open and shut the gates; he has to wind the clock, sweep the church, and clean the cells. When this is done, he takes his bag and begs from house to house. He returns tired, and thinks now he will be able to rest and read his books, but the other monks come and roughly call him away, saying: “Come, come! it is not by studying, but by begging bread, corn, eggs, fish, meat, and money that a monk renders himself useful to the cloister.”
He bears all patiently, thinking these unpleasant things are but discipline leading to holiness. At the intercession of the University he is after a time, freed from his meaner duties, and returns to his studies. But his studies, his fasting, his sleepless nights, wear him away, and he becomes’ pale and thin. His mind is still vigorous, and frequently he may be seen in public debate unraveling the most complicated reasoning.
In the convent he had found a Bible fastened by a chain. To this he constantly returns. He loves the Word of God, but as yet it speaks to him only of that holiness which he cannot attain. He tries more earnestly, he shuts himself up in his cell, repeats his Latin prayers over and over. But his conscience troubles him, and he says to himself: “Look, thou art still envious, impatient, passionate. It profiteth thee nothing. Oh! wretched man, to have entered this sacred order!” For seven weeks he has hardly slept; for four days he has remained without eating or drinking. On one occasion he shut himself up in his cell, and suffered no one to enter for several days. A friend, named Lucas Edemberger, feeling anxious about him, took with him chorister boys, and knocked at his door. No one opens, no one answers — all is still! Much alarmed, Edemberger breaks open the door.
Luther lies upon the floor apparently dead. He is worn out with fasting, want of sleep, and unhappiness of heart. His friend strives in vain to bring him to his senses, and it is only when he hears the sweet voices of the boys singing a hymn that he returns to consciousness. His troubles caused him more attentively to study the Bible, and the time is now drawing near when he is to meet with a friend to whom he can tell all his sorrows.
John Staupitz, the vicar-general of the Augustine convents in Germany, was about to visit Erfurt. He was a good man, who knew much of the love and mercy of Jesus, and had a kind heart. He himself had endured similar struggles to those of Luther, and had found peace in Jesus Christ. As he was making his usual inspection of the convent at Erfurt, and the monks were gathered before him, he especially noticed one — a young man of middle height, whom study, fasting, and prolonged watchings had wasted away till all his bones could be counted. This young man was Luther. Staupitz, quickly seeing what was passing within, very kindly approached him, and succeeded in gaining his confidence. He showed him how useless it was to trust in good works for salvation, and explained the way in which God pardons sin through faith in Jesus; he also told him how foolish it was to wait for repentance before he believed in the loving kindness of God. “If you desire to be converted,” said he, “do not be anxious about these mortifications, and all these tortures. Love Him who first loved you!” Staupitz did more than this; for, on leaving the convent, he gave Luther a Bible, and encouraged him to let the study of the Scriptures be his favorite occupation.
Never was advice better taken and obeyed. The dark clouds were now rolling away. Happiness began to dawn upon the young monk; but the mists had not quite dispersed. The good seed had been sown in his heart, but there yet remained much for him to learn.
He was again laid aside by sickness, and appeared to be dying. His anxieties and fears returned, and he was sinking into despair. An old monk entered his cell, and spoke kindly to him. Luther told him of his misery and fear. The old man could not counsel like Staupitz, but he knew his creed, and it had comforted his heart. Simply he repeated, “I believe in the forgiveness of sins.” The sick man slowly said the words, “I believe in the forgiveness of sins.” “Ah!” exclaimed the aged brother, “you must believe not only in the forgiveness of David’s and Peter’s sins, but you must believe that your own sins are forgiven.” “Hear also what St. Bernard says,” said he: “‘The testimony in thy heart is this: thy sins are forgiven thee.’”
From this moment Luther had peace, and could say with St. Paul, “Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” He realized also the power of the Saviour’s words, “Peace I leave with you; My peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you.”
Jesus, Thou art my righteousness,
For all my sins were Thine;
Thy death hath bought of God my peace
Thy life hath made Him mine.
Spotless and just in Thee I am;
I feel my sins forgiven:
I taste salvation in Thy name,
And antedate my heaven.