The call of the void

I’ve been pondering the place of mortal sin in Lutheran scholastic theology. Roman Catholicism famously distinguishes between mortal and venial sins, with mortal sins extinguishing grace until absolution is received. Lutheranism rejects that scheme—but it does not deny the reality that deliberate, willful sin can destroy faith. At that point, we are no longer talking about “categories” of sin but about the stark difference between faith and unbelief.

This raises the unsettling question: if mortal sin in this Lutheran sense severs a person from faith, how can assurance remain? Doesn’t this make Lutheran believers just as uncertain as Roman Catholics? At least the Roman Catholic can, however falsely, “check a list” to know his standing.

Here the Lutheran answer differs decisively. Our assurance is not found by peering inward to measure the strength of our faith, nor by sorting sins into categories, but by looking outside ourselves—extra nos—to God’s promise in Word and Sacrament. Faith clings to Christ’s objective gift, not to its own self-consciousness.

The Reformed often explain apostasy as proof that the person was never regenerate in the first place. By contrast, Lutherans admit the tragic possibility of falling away—but without conceding that God fails to keep His own. The problem lies not in God’s preservation, but in our turning from the means of grace by persistent, willful rejection.

This is where the “call of the void” image helps me. The temptation to despair—asking, “What if I suddenly stop believing?”—is like the intrusive thought of steering into oncoming traffic, or of the tightrope walker glancing down and imagining a step into the abyss. The thought itself is not the fall. To obsess over whether I still believe is not unbelief itself. Doubt and temptation attack faith, but faith clings to Christ precisely by fleeing such thoughts and holding to the promise given in Word and Sacrament.

So is it possible to “cease believing for a moment”? If the question means, “Can God fail to save me?” then the answer is no—never. If the question means, “Can I feel overwhelmed by weakness, by sin, even to the point of doubting whether I believe at all?”—then yes, but that is not the same as the loss of faith. Assurance is not found in managing the ebb and flow of my psychology. It is found in Christ, steadfast outside me, in whom even the trembling hand is still held firm.