John Staupitz, whom the Lord sent to Luther with a message of mercy, was vicar-general of the Augustines for all Germany. Historians speak of him in the highest terms. "He was indeed of noble descent," says one, "but he was far more illustrious through the power of his eloquence, the extent of his learning, the uprightness of his character, and the purity of his life." It is matter of thankfulness, and worthy of note, to find such a godly man filling such an important office even in the last stage of papal degeneracy. His influence was great and good. He possessed the esteem of Frederick the Wise, Elector of Saxony, who founded the university of Wittemberg under his direction.
A visitation of this good man—the vicar-general—to inspect the monastery at Erfurt was announced just about the time when the anguish of Luther's mind had reached its height. The wasted frame, the melancholy appearance, yet the earnest resolute look of the young monk attracted the attention of Staupitz. From past experience he knew well the cause of his dejection, and most kindly instructed and comforted him. He assured Luther that he was entirely mistaken in supposing that he could stand before God on the ground of his works or his vows; that he could only be saved by the mercy of God, and that mercy must flow to him through faith in the blood of Christ. "Let your principal occupation be the study of the scriptures," says Staupitz; and along with this good advice he presented Luther with a Bible, which of all things on earth he most desired.
A ray of divine light had penetrated the dark mind of Luther. His conversations and correspondence with the vicar-general greatly helped him, but he was still a stranger to peace with God. His bodily health again gave way under the conflicts of his soul. During the second year of his residence in the convent he became so dangerously ill, that he had to be removed to the infirmary. All his former terrors returned at the approach of death. He was still ignorant of the value of the finished work of Christ to the believer, and so were his teachers. The frightful image of his own guilt, and the demands of God's holy law, filled him with fear. Not being a common-place man, and passing through an experience which common-place men could not understand, he was alone; he could tell his griefs to none.
One day, as he lay, overwhelmed with despair, he was visited by an old monk, who spoke to him of the way of peace. Won by the kindness of his words, Luther opened his heart to him. The venerable father spoke to him of the efficacy of faith, and repeated to him that article in the Apostles' Creed, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins." These few simple words, with the Lord's blessing, seem to have turned the mind of Luther from works to faith. He had been familiar with the form of these words from his childhood, but he had only repeated them as a form of words, like thousands of nominal Christians in all ages. Now they filled his heart with hope and consolation. The old monk, hearing him repeating the words to himself, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins," as if to fathom their depth, interrupted him by saying that it was not a mere general but a personal belief. I believe in the forgiveness, not merely of David's sins, or of Peter's sins, but of my sins. Even the devils have a general but not a personal belief. "Hear what St. Bernard says," added the pious old monk, "The testimony of the Holy Ghost to thy heart is this, thy sins are forgiven thee." From this moment divine light entered the heart of Luther, and, step by step, through the diligent study of the word and prayer, he became a great and honored servant of the Lord.