The second mark of a true theologian for Luther is, to use his chosen Latin word, tentatio.  We might translate this as `testing' or even `temptation,' but, within the context of Luther's thought, where, when he writes in German, he uses Anfechtungen, it means something more akin to `terrible dread' or `agonizing struggle.'   The word carries terrifying existential weight.

The essence of this `agonizing struggle' is, for Luther, doubt.  Now, we live in a world where `doubt' is often regarded as a good thing, representing an appropriate epistemological modesty about truth claims.  Indeed, some theologians have made the case that doubt should actually be understood as a key part of faith; and such might perhaps glance towards Luther as providing some precedent for this.  But Luther is not a precedent for the kind of doubt which is so often flagged as a virtue today.  Yes, doubt and faith are, in a sense, inseparable for Luther, but not as constituent parts of the same thing; rather, they are the antithetical poles which define the struggle of human beings caught between the law and the gospel, between the wrathful God who abominates our self-righteousness and the gracious God who has given us his own righteousness in Christ.

Often the talk of `doubt' by some contemporary Christian writers is simply not using the word to mean the same thing which Luther implies in his language of `agonizing struggle.'   For these, `doubt' can often be something akin to skepticism, or  to looking with suspicion on truth claims.   We might summarize by saying that such `doubt' is really a way of expressing at worst rejection, at best very highly qualified and selective acceptance, of some form of external authority, a different pastoral issue to that which is in Luther's mind at this point.   For some, such doubt is even seen as perhaps somewhat virtuous, and that is not Luther's point at all. Indeed, the very casual way in which the language of doubt is so often thrown around, as if it were a good, healthy, liberating thing, gives the game away, being simply antithetical to the attitude which Luther's language of agonizing struggle connotes. 

Within the framework of Luther's theology, such people have a certain similarity to the marketplace atheists confronted by the  Madman in Nietzsche's The Gay Science, Book 3, #125.  Only the Madman sees that the death of God plunges humanity into a terrifying, exciting, anarchic world.  To him, the polite atheistic talk of the nice, comfy atheists simply misses the grand point of what the death -- the murder -- of God means.  So it is with those who can speak lightly of doubt. The cool chic of Christian designer doubt is really a polite way of saying, `Well, I have problems with this bit or that bit of Christianity, and I don't like the implications or requirements of this external authority; but, you know, I'm still confident God's a decent sort of bloke and I'm sure it will be OK in the end.' It is nothing like the terrifying existential vortex envisaged (and experienced) by Luther; if it were, these people could never, ever talk about it in such a detached, matter-of-fact manner. 

Strange to tell, one might say that it is only because Luther is certain about how great and powerful God is that he can doubt in this way; a casually articulated doubt, a piece of cocksure skepticism, by contrast, would be indicative of a small vision of a domesticated god, a god made to human standards and expectations.  For Luther, doubt is not some casual idea to be bandied about over a glass of red wine and a cigar, still less is it an integral part of faith.  It is rather utterly terrifying, antithetical to faith and yet an inevitable part of the overall experience of being a fallen human. Nor is it merely the lack of belief in this or that doctrine, or skepticism about this or that authority; rather, it is the belief that God himself has turned against you, has hidden himself from you, has buried his grace under wrath, has become your enemy. 

This is important for the theologian because of the effect it has: doubting that the great God is for you, or that he has indeed spoken, drives you again and again out of yourself and back to God's word, because it is only there that you can find refuge from terror, only there, as I noted in my last post, will you unexpectedly find God as gracious,  mercifully revealed in the crucifixion -- surely the very last place one would have expected to find him.

I close this post with the words of Luther himself, from the preface to the 1539 edition of his German works (I quote from the second edition of Martin Luther's Basic Theological Writings, edited by Timothy F. Lull, p 73):

`This [tentatio] is the touchstone which teaches you not only to know and understand, but also to experience how right, how true, how sweet, how lovely, how mighty, how comforting God's Word is, wisdom beyond all wisdom.

'Thus you see how David... complains so often about all kinds of enemies, arrogant princes or tyrants, false spirits and factions, whom he must tolerate because he meditates, that is, because he is occupied with God's Word (as has been said) in all manner of ways.  For as soon as God's Word takes root and grows in you, the devil will harry you, and will make a real doctor of you, and by his assaults will teach you to seek and love God's Word.   I myself (if you will permit me, mere mouse-dirt, to be mingled with pepper) am deeply indebted to my papists that through the devil's raging they have beaten, oppressed, and distressed me so much.  That is to say, they have made a fairly good theologian of me, which I would not have become otherwise.  And I heartily grant them what they have won in return for making this of me, honor, victory, and triumph, for that's the way they wanted it.'

Surely, to misquote Dr. Johnson, to be tired of Luther is to be tired of life.