Martin Luther’s Soul-Care Legacy and the Crisis of Institutional Betrayal in Lutheran Circles

Jun 24, 2025

By Iris Lennox

Author’s Note

What prompted this essay was a striking divide I began to notice in how Lutheran pastors responded to me when I spoke openly about the affair I had with Erik Herrmann. Their reactions seemed to fall almost evenly down the middle. Roughly half approached me with curiosity, compassion, and a desire to understand. The other half responded with defensiveness, scolding, and in some cases, outright belittlement toward me and even toward my husband.

At first, I didn’t know what to make of it. I wondered if it was theological, generational, or perhaps related to pastoral training in the LCMS, especially around topics like spiritual abuse, trauma, and the limits of pastoral care. But the pattern became harder to ignore. The more closely a pastor was connected to Erik—socially, professionally, or through shared loyalties—the more likely he was to dismiss, blame, or minimize. I might have expected that from family. But pastors?

Then, during a conversation with a younger LCMS pastor, he said something that brought the entire dynamic into sharp focus: “If Erik has their ear, he’s going to fill it.”

That line stayed with me. It captured not only my experience, but the experience of others who have encountered the same pattern. It helped me realize that some of what I’d perceived as spiritual or moral leadership could, in fact, be relational allegiance in a tightly knit community.

Still, I wanted to think more deeply. I began researching what pastoral care actually meant to Luther himself, not just as a historical figure or theological reformer, but as someone who wrote often and practically about the care of souls. What I found surprised me. The more I read Luther’s writings and his reflections on the conscience, the Law and Gospel, and the burden of sin, the more my respect for him grew. Not as someone to revere—he was deeply flawed, and his writings on the Jews were appalling—but as a communicator. He was clear, bold, and often quite tender when writing about human weakness.

In time, this project turned into something more than just research. It helped me separate Luther’s theology from the institutional behavior of those who claim his name but do not reflect his pastoral instincts. It also reminded me that Luther was just a man. He was a man trying to distill the Word of God and bring structure to the church. And yet, many older LCMS pastors seem to cling more tightly to a “Lutheran identity” than to the Gospel itself. I guess we can’t really blame Luther for that, can we?

Luther’s thoughts on soul care were helpful. But as with any teacher, it is the humility of the pupil and the anchoring of one’s identity in Christ that determines whether that teaching becomes wisdom or weapon.

With that context in mind, here’s what I discovered.

In the sixteenth century, Martin Luther offered a revolutionary vision for the care of souls. In an age when spiritual care often involved fear, manipulation, and coercion—especially through confession, penance, and institutional control—Luther insisted that true pastoral care must be rooted in compassion, honesty, and the careful stewardship of the conscience. “We are to console and lift up the weak,” he wrote, “not crush them with severity and terror.”¹ This charge was as radical in his day as it is in ours.

For Luther, soul care was neither a matter of moralistic scolding nor of indulgent permissiveness. It was a sacred responsibility, grounded in the recognition that sin is real, that consciences are vulnerable, and that the Gospel offers comfort only when the truth has been rightly acknowledged. He wrote, “Christ did not die for imaginary sins, but for real ones.”² Luther’s concern was always for the clarity of the Gospel and the integrity of the conscience, not for protecting clerical status or institutional image. His writings challenge pastors to speak the truth boldly, not only in naming sin, but also in guarding and consoling those whose souls have been wounded by it.

Theological Foundations

Authenticity of Sin and Grace

In a letter to Philip Melanchthon dated August 1, 1521, Luther emphasized the necessity of acknowledging real sin in order to grasp the depth of divine mercy:

“If you are a preacher of mercy, do not preach an imaginary but the true mercy. If the mercy is true, you must therefore bear the true, not an imaginary sin. God does not save those who are only imaginary sinners.”³

Pastoral Care Rooted in Truth

Luther’s pastoral theology was shaped by his own experience of deep spiritual anguish. Before his rediscovery of the Gospel, he lived under the weight of a terrified conscience, convinced that he could never do enough to earn God’s favor. That personal struggle made him especially attuned to the inner lives of those who sought spiritual help. His concern for the well-being of the soul was not abstract; it was urgent, embodied, and shaped by compassion.

At the center of Luther’s approach was the conviction that the soul could not be healed by avoidance, denial, or mere outward performance. True care, in his view, involved a bold confrontation with sin, followed immediately by the clear promise of grace. The job of the pastor was not to excuse or minimize sin, nor to shame the sinner into silence, but to rightly divide Law and Gospel. As Luther wrote in his lectures on Galatians, “Sin is not canceled by lawful living, for no person is able to live according to the Law. Sin is canceled by mercy alone.”⁴

This meant that pastors were to speak honestly about sin, not because they relished judgment, but because they believed in restoration. Luther understood that a conscience burdened by guilt must be met with clarity: the Law to reveal sin, and the Gospel to proclaim Christ crucified for that sin. When either element is absent, when sin is downplayed or grace is offered too quickly, the conscience remains confused, and true healing cannot occur.

For Luther, pastoral care was not about maintaining appearances or enforcing conformity. Nor was it about avoiding controversy. It was about guiding people into the presence of God with truth and tenderness. He once wrote, “A preacher must be both a lion and a lamb. A lion to bold-faced sinners, and a lamb to those whose consciences are troubled.”⁵ This pastoral tension, in which truth and tenderness are held together, formed the heart of his ministry.

Conscience and the Gospel

For Luther, the conscience was not merely a psychological faculty but also a theological one. He understood the human conscience as living coram Deo, always before the face of God. It is in the conscience, he argued, that the human soul encounters the judgment of the Law and the promise of the Gospel. This is where fear, shame, and guilt reside, but also where freedom, comfort, and assurance are born through Christ.

Luther’s own breakthrough as a reformer was, at its core, a crisis of conscience. He could not find peace through external rituals or institutional assurances. What tormented him was not a lack of piety, but the unbearable weight of knowing that his own works could not still the judgment he felt before God. This personal agony shaped his theology in permanent ways: the conscience, he concluded, must be comforted not by effort or evasion, but by the unambiguous promise of the Gospel.

In his lectures on Romans, Luther wrote, “The conscience is something in man that is above all human beings, and it accuses man before God.”⁶ No priest or pastor could override it. No religious system could silence it. The only word powerful enough to calm the accusing conscience is the Gospel itself, which is Christ’s righteousness given freely to the sinner!

This is why Luther placed such importance on honest confession. Peace could never come through denial or concealment; it came through truth. The Law must be preached so that sin might be rightly understood, but it must always be followed by the Gospel, which alone has the power to console. “The conscience must be prepared for grace by the recognition of sin,” he wrote, “so that it does not become a comfort to the smug but a balm for the terrified.”⁷

Luther’s Principles of Soul Care

At the heart of Luther’s pastoral theology are several principles that remain strikingly relevant today:

Naming Sin Truthfully

“When I urge you to go to confession, I am simply urging you to be a Christian.” —Large Catechism, Confession, para. 32⁸

Healing begins only when the truth is spoken without evasion.

Protecting the Vulnerable

“He would have this commandment placed as a wall, fortress, and refuge about our neighbor, that we do him no hurt nor harm in his body.” —Large Catechism, Fifth Commandment, para. 189⁹

Pastoral care, then, is not about shielding the powerful but about defending those who have been wounded.

Consoling Troubled Consciences

“For God’s Word is the Gospel, which proclaims comfort, grace, and the forgiveness of sins through Christ, and bestows these gifts on all who believe it.” —Sermon on Preparing to Die (1519), LW 42:99¹⁰

Luther knew that a burdened conscience cannot be comforted by platitudes. Only clear grace, spoken after sin has been plainly named before God and acknowledged by the conscience, offers true peace.

Holding Law and Gospel in Tension

“The Law says, ‘Do this,’ and it is never done. Grace says, ‘Believe in this,’ and everything is already done.” —Heidelberg Disputation (1518), Thesis 26¹¹

Luther warned against using the Law to condemn the brokenhearted or the Gospel to excuse harm. True soul care requires holding both in holy tension.

Attending to the Whole Person

“It is true that sickness often weighs down and saddens the spirit, for man is made of both flesh and spirit.” —Letter to Jerome Weller, July 1530, LW 43:242¹²

Luther ministered to both body and soul, recognizing that emotional and spiritual harm can manifest physically and that compassion must reach the whole person.

The Current Crisis

Today, many Lutheran pastors and institutions who claim Luther’s legacy have lost sight of the soul-care principles he so clearly articulated. In the wake of pastoral betrayal, abuse of power, or hidden sin, responses are often shaped not by theological clarity but by institutional loyalty. The result is predictable: the wounded are isolated, and the truth is managed to preserve reputations instead of protecting the vulnerable.

These dynamics are not hypothetical. They are observable throughout the history and present culture of the LCMS.

Silence and secrecy

In 1974, the LCMS suspended Concordia Seminary President John Tietjen and removed nearly all of its faculty over doctrinal disagreements. This led to the formation of Seminex, a dramatic event rooted not in misconduct but in contested theology. The conflict was handled primarily through synodical authority and administrative measures, with little room for transparent public discourse. While the LCMS has since clarified oversight structures, the impulse to protect institutional identity over open conversation remains evident in more recent controversies.

Dismissal and disbelief

Survivors of abuse within LCMS contexts have often reported being dismissed, disbelieved, or quietly redirected to internal channels. Public acknowledgment remains rare, and when it does occur, it typically avoids transparency. Survivors and whistleblowers are sometimes portrayed as unstable or divisive rather than as truth-tellers seeking justice. These dynamics mirror concerns raised in broader Christian institutions and suggest the need for structural and cultural reform within the LCMS.

Cheap grace

LCMS materials on ecclesiastical supervision emphasize “repentance, forgiveness, and restoration.” In principle, this reflects sound doctrine. In practice, however, forgiveness is often emphasized while public repentance is absent. Pastors who abuse power are sometimes permitted to resign quietly or move to another district or ministry context without any formal acknowledgment to their congregation, the seminary community, or those who have studied under their leadership, past or present. The Gospel, which is meant to comfort the contrite, becomes a shield for the unrepentant when it is used to maintain public peace instead of bringing the truth to light.

Institutional self-protection

The LCMS Handbook contains mechanisms for ecclesiastical supervision, yet these systems often function within a closed loop. Complaints are typically routed to the offender’s district president or close colleagues, which creates a built-in conflict of interest. Even when seminary leaders resign under serious circumstances, no public statement is made. In recent years, professors have disappeared from faculty pages without explanation, even after credible complaints had circulated. These silences say little to the public but send a clear message to insiders: we protect our own.

This is not the soul-care Luther envisioned. It contradicts the theological foundations of Lutheranism, which calls for the clear preaching of Law and Gospel, the rebuke of sin, and the comfort of grace. As Luther wrote, “For the office of preaching is not only to comfort, but also to reprove.”¹⁴

To comfort the conscience without telling the truth is not pastoral. It is malpractice. The call to name harm and to console the afflicted cannot be fulfilled by institutions that value silence more than confession or stability more than repentance. When LCMS leaders claim to stand in Luther’s tradition but prioritize secrecy over clarity, they do not protect the church. They betray it.

A Call to Pastors: Implementing Luther’s Legacy

Luther’s vision for pastoral care was rooted in Scripture, and so must yours be. The care of souls is not an optional ministry; it is the charge given to every shepherd of Christ’s flock (1 Peter 5:2). Here are five biblical imperatives for faithful soul-care today:

1. Listen with humility.
“Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.” (James 1:19)
Let the wounded speak without interruption. Listening is not passive—it is pastoral.

2. Name sin truthfully.
“Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.” (Ephesians 5:11)
Do not minimize betrayal or reframe abuse as mutual failing. Call sin what it is.

3. Protect the vulnerable.
“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves… defend the rights of the poor and needy.” (Proverbs 31:8–9)
Your loyalty is not to institutions, but to the bruised and burdened.

4. Hold Law and Gospel in right tension.
“The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.” (2 Corinthians 3:6)
The Law reveals sin. The Gospel heals the sinner. Use both, but never confuse them.

5. Acknowledge your limits.
“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2)
You are called to care, not to cure alone. Refer wisely. Walk alongside. Honor the complexity of healing.

Conclusion: A Return to Integrity

Luther consistently taught that confronting sin with clarity is essential for the comfort of the conscience. When pastors speak honestly about wrongdoing, the soul can rest in the assurance of grace. When they do not, the burden remains.

The invitation today is simple and vital: practice the kind of soul-care Luther described. Speak the truth with courage. Stand with those who have been wounded. Let your care reflect the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which brings both honesty and healing. This is the center of the Lutheran faith.

Disclaimer

I’m not speaking as someone ordained or credentialed in Lutheran doctrine. In truth, I’m a communication and theatre scholar, and a decades-long follower of Christ. As both, I care deeply about pursuing questions with logic, Scripture, reason, and a touch of the poetic. My intention here is simply to share what I’ve found in a way that’s useful to anyone who is human, deals with humans, and finds value in being real.

Works Cited

Large Catechism, Preface to the Ten Commandments, para. 17.
Luther, Works, American Edition (LW), 33:127.
Luther, Letter to Philip Melanchthon, August 1, 1521.
Lectures on Galatians, LW 26:130–131.
Luther, Table Talk, LW 54:76.
Lectures on Romans, LW 25:258.
Lectures on Romans, LW 25:265.
Large Catechism, Confession, para. 32.
Large Catechism, Fifth Commandment, para. 189.
Sermon on Preparing to Die (1519), LW 42:99.
Heidelberg Disputation (1518), Thesis 26.
Letter to Jerome Weller, July 1530, LW 43:242.
LCMS Commission on Theology and Church Relations. Guidelines for Ecclesiastical Supervision. 2015.
Large Catechism, Preface to the Ten Commandments, para. 16.