Martin Luther: Father of the Reformation

This is an electronic version of our Glimpses for Kids children's worship bulletin inserts. These are designed to present Christian biographies for Children's church, educational or worship ministries.

Thwack! Thwack!
Eight lashes. The sting was tremendous and I cringed, my shoulders sinking lower. The hole in the circle at the end of the stick was designed to raise blisters. I longed to pull my hand to myself and run out of the school as fast as I could.

I glanced sideways and caught a glimpse of "the wolf," my classmate whose job was to tell on everyone. He'd turned me in for speaking German instead of Latin on the playground. The wolf's sneer told me that he was enjoying my pain.

"Say it in Latin," the teacher demanded again, raising the stick to the striking position. "You must speak only Latin in this school!"

I continued to hold my hand out as it swelled, but I held back the tears. If only I could remember the Latin grammar, I would have said it a dozen times, but it was a new language to me and I couldn't string the words together.

I gathered my courage and spoke to the teacher in Latin in my most respectful voice. "Forgive me, Master Heindrick. I would like to remember, but the words escape me."

"Here," he said, shoving a Latin book into my reddened hand. "Take this home and study it. And don't be caught speaking German in this school again."

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The Pursuit of God
Even though I hated Master Heindrick's discipline, I loved to learn. My father worked hard to send me to good schools and I wanted to please him.

Every good father in Germany wanted his sons to learn Latin. (Girls didn't go to school.) All of our church services were sung and spoken in Latin. When my family and I attended church, the monks read the Latin Bible, and none of the common people understood a word of it.

My one pleasure in life was my music. I often sat alone in my room or outdoors and plucked the strings of my lute. I learned many Latin chants in the boys' choir at the church. My favorite was the "Magnificat," the wonderful song Mary sang because she was chosen to be the mother of Jesus. I wondered if God had some special purpose for my life, too.

The Fear of God
It bothered me, though, that no matter how "good" I was at anything, I couldn't seem to please my father or God. Everyone I knew was afraid of God--too scared to even talk to Him. Even some of the statues and paintings of God were scary looking. I never thought about loving God, and I certainly never dreamed He loved me. Besides, we went to the monks, not God, to ask for forgiveness for our sins.

Some of my friends went to school to become religious monks. A monk had to lead church services in Latin, promise to live in poverty, and never get married. My father wanted me to be a lawyer. I was so glad he didn't want me to be a monk!

The Promise to God
Then one day, something happened that changed everything. I was walking to law school when suddenly the sky darkened and a violent thunderstorm broke out. I was all alone on the road and terribly frightened.

Fierce lightning cracked the sky and bolted from the heavens to the ground right beside me! I flew into the air and landed in a crumpled heap on the ground.

Desperate to live, I cried out a prayer, "Help me, St. Anne, and I will become a monk." I lived through the awful storm and kept my vow. I felt like Saul in the Bible whose entire life was changed when a light from heaven stopped him on his way to Damascus!

Oh, my stern father was so angry with me! I can't blame him, really. He said that all the money he spent on my schooling was wasted. However, I had made a promise to God, so I joined the monastery. Let me tell you, if someone could earn salvation from hell by being a good, devoted monk, I could! I nearly killed myself trying to be good! I hardly slept, fasted often, recited long prayers, sang in the choir, did lots of chores and gave all my money away. I even gave away my treasured instrument, the lute.

But the longer I stayed in the monastery, the less I liked it. God still seemed to be very much like my old school teacher, Master Heindrick--always ready to strike me to blisters for my sins. I spoke fluent Latin by that time, but I couldn't seem to do enough good things to please God.

Discover how Martin Luther finally found peace in part 2 of this "Glimpses for Kids" children's worship bulletin insert.