Martin Luther’s Pulpit
In March 1980 I traveled to Eisleben, East Germany the birth and death place of Martin Luther. Under communist rule few people from the West could visit this town. Dr. Phillips, my old college professor, and I received special permission to tour St. Andrew’s church closed to the public. A curator showed us through the building, pointing out the high, wooden pulpit with ornate carvings erected in 1518. Martin Luther once said, “The pulpit is the throne for the Word of God.” As a Bible smuggler putting God’s word into the hands of people living under communism, this had special significance to me. Luther preached his last four sermons from this pulpit in 1546.
I asked the curator, “May I stand in the pulpit.” I climbed the creaking spiral steps, running my hand along the worn wooden railing impregnated with the oils of a thousand sweaty palms. The thought of a minuscule part of my DNA, now infused with Luther’s, shot a burst of energy coursing up my arm. As I looked over the empty church, I placed a hand on each side of the lectern, turning my face heavenward. The gravity overwhelmed me of what God was allowing us to do behind the Iron Curtain. Standing with my eyes closed, a sense of peace and tranquility rained down on me. A warm glow filled my soul with the assurance that God had called me to a special work.
For the last week Dr. Phillips and I had been preaching across communist East Germany with Karl-Heinz who was our guide and interpreter. I had used the text of Martin Luther’s last sermon from Matt. 11:28 which says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.”. When it was time to say goodbye to Karl-Heinz he was sitting next to me in the front seat of our car.
Exhausted from our hectic week Karl-Heinz turned to me and said, “It is hard for me to say goodbye to you. I always feel so refreshed when you come. It means a great deal to me.”
Tears welled up in his eyes. I reached over and hugged him. He kissed me on the cheek. This was not the custom for stoic Germans but he and I traveled in Hungary and their greeting seemed appropriate. I understood how important our visits were to Christians living under incredible stress. Not a day passed by that they did not sense the heavy hand of oppression, imprisoned within their own country. My work as a Bible smuggler gave me the privilege to provide a momentary respite from a burden that was almost too much to bear.