SIMUL: The Journal of St. Paul Lutheran Seminary, Vol. 2, Issue 2 (Winter 2023)

James Arne Nestingen

SIMUListhejournalofSt.Paul LutheranSeminary.

CoverPhoto:

This issue’scoverphoto isof James Arne Nestingen,emeritus professor at LutherSeminary,and provost of St.Paul LutheranSeminary.

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The views expressed inthe articles reflect theauthor(s) opinions and are not necessarily the views of the publisher and editor. SIMUL cannot guarantee and accepts no liability forany loss ordamage of any kind caused by the errors and for theaccuracy of claims made by the authors. All rights reserved and nothing can be partially or inwhole be reprinted or reproduced without written consent from theeditor.

SIMUL

Volume 2, Issue 2, Winter 2023

James Arne Nestingen

EDITOR

Rev. Dr. Dennis R. Di Mauro dennisdimauro@yahoo.com

ADMINSTRATOR

Rev. Jon Jensen jjensen@semlc.org

AdministrativeAddress: St. PaulLutheranSeminary

P.O.Box 251 Midland,GA 31820

ACADEMICDEAN

Rev. Julie Smith jjsmith@semlc.org

Academics/Student AffairsAddress: St. PaulLutheranSeminary P.O.Box 112 Springfield,MN 56087

BOARDOFDIRECTORS

Chair:Rev. Dr. Erwin Spruth

Rev. Greg Brandvold

Rev. Jon Jensen

Rev. Dr. Mark Menacher

Steve Paula

Rev. Julie Smith

CharlesHunsaker

Rev. Dr. James Cavanah

Rev. Jeff Teeples

TEACHINGFACULTY

Rev. Dr. Marney Fritts

Rev. Dr. Dennis DiMauro

Rev. Julie Smith

Rev. VirgilThompson

Rev. Dr. Keith Less

Rev. BradHales

Rev. Dr. Erwin Spruth

Rev. Steven King

Rev. Dr. Orrey McFarland

Rev. HoracioCastillo(Intl)

Rev. AmandaOlson de Castillo(Intl)

Rev. Dr. Roy HarrisvilleIII

Rev. Dr. Henry Corcoran

Rev. Dr. Mark Menacher

Rev. RandyFreund

Editor’s Note

Welcome to our sixth issue of SIMUL, the journal of St. Paul Lutheran Seminary. This edition will include remembrances of the life of Dr. James Arne Nestingen. Jim was our provost, professor, a director of DMin students, and the teacher of our popular weekly text study. He left some big shoes to fill, and he will be sorely missed. In this volume, John Pless recalls Jim’s emphasis on private confession, Marney Fritts plumbs his teaching on repentance, and Tony Ede explains what it was like to be Jim’s student at Luther Seminary. Steve Paulson continues our tribute to Jim by exploring his roots in a small Norwegian farming community, Jonathan Thompson explains what it was like to be Jim’s fellow church member and MDiv student, Roy Harrisville III provides a history of Jim’s education and early ministry, and Julie Smith reveals how Jim used the Small Catechism as the vehicle for his theology. Randy Freund finishes out this issue with a review of Jim Nestingen and Gerhard Forde’s classic book, Free to Be.

What’s Ahead?

Upcoming Issues - We are so excited about this coming year. Our Spring 2023 issue will be on renewal in the local church, responding to Bradley Hales’ very successful class of the same title which had over one hundred students representing

This

will include remembrances of the life of Dr. James Arne Nestingen.

twenty-two different churches. Luther’s theology of vocation will be the subject of our Summer 2023 issue, and our Fall 2023 issue will discuss the Office of the Ministry.

India Classes – St. Paul Lutheran Seminary has partnered with the Lutheran School of Theology in India to provide education for their pastoral candidates – they have twenty-one students in their first- and second-year classes! Unfortunately, we have no funding for our American professors, and they have been providing their services pro bono. While their generosity has kept the classes going for the time being, this situation is sadly unsustainable. If you would like to support our commitment to educating Indian pastors for ministry, please consider making a generous contribution at:

https://semlc.org/support-st-paul-lutheran-seminary/

I hope you enjoy this issue of SIMUL! If you have any questions about the journal or about St. Paul Lutheran Seminary, please shoot me an email at dennisdimauro@yahoo.com

Rev. Dr. Dennis Di Mauro is the pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church in Warrenton, VA. He teaches at St. Paul Lutheran Seminary and is the editor of SIMUL.

JAMES ARNE NESTINGEN: HE HANDED OVER THE GOODS

John Pless

I first met Jim Nestingen through Dr. Robert Kolb in the summer of 1984. I was ordained the previous year and was serving University Lutheran Chapel in Minneapolis; Jim was teaching church history at Luther Seminary. Bob had called me to see if I could give Jim a ride to a meeting of the Concordia Academy on the campus of Wartburg Seminary in Dubuque, Iowa. The hours to Dubuque and then back to the Twin Cities slipped by as I quickly discovered a kindred spirit in my travel companion.

That trip would mark the beginning of a long and cherished friendship. In those early days, Jim, Bob, Dr. Kenneth Korby, and I would often meet for conversation. We worked with Lowell Green to bring the Concordia Academy to Luther Seminary and again to University Lutheran Chapel. Jim was always an encouraging and thoughtful supporter of my work

in campus ministry.

As a young pastor, I wanted to introduce the practice of individual confession and absolution at the chapel. I announced times when I would be available in the chancel to hear confession and speak absolution, but I didn’t have any takers. I confided my frustration to Jim. He reminded me that a pastor should always have “ears for the confession of sin.” He suggested that I not wait for students to come to me. Instead, I should listen for those who might unwittingly be confessing their sins over a beer or cup of coffee, in a conversation at the student center, or in a chance meeting in some setting away from the chapel. Jim said that they may not immediately identify their problem as sin, but “you are a Lutheran, so you’ll know sin when you hear it.” Jim said that I should respond by saying, do you know what you just said? You confessed your sin, now I’m going to absolve you.” Then Jim said, “haul off and say the words….As a called and ordained servant of Christ, I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Jim rescued the practice of confession and absolution for me, and I’ve used his advice ever since.

In 2000, I was called to the faculty of Concordia Theological Seminary in Fort Wayne. Jim encouraged me to accept the call and was full of encouragement as I headed out on this new

venture. Moving from the Twin Cities to Indiana meant that I would not have occasions to stop by his office on the Luther campus or get together for lunch in Dinkytown by the University of Minnesota campus, but the friendship remained and deepened as God opened other doors for our respective ministries.

I was pleased that Jim was able to visit the Fort Wayne campus on several occasions. He was a speaker at our annual Confessions Symposium twice and he taught an intensive term STM course. His “fireside chat” on Luther’s treatise on the enslaved will was one of his most energetic and memorable presentations making an impact on students that continues to the present. In typical Nestingen fashion, Jim mocked much of contemporary theology as “Erasmus in drag.” That year, the fourth year class invited Jim to return to Fort Wayne as guest speaker for their spring banquet. A recording of the fireside chat on the bound will would somehow make its way to Norway, prompting Jarle Blindheim to invite Jim and me to speak for their Lutheran Study Days in Bergen. We did this together two summers in a row, focusing on the Small Catechism and Luther’s teaching on vocation. Given his own Norwegian heritage, Jim fit right in and won the hearts and minds of participants with his down to earth humor and his practical applications of Lutheran theology to daily life.

Jim said that I should respond by saying, do you know what you just said? You confessed your sin, now I’m going to absolve you.”

A major intersection with Jim over the last dozen years was the official dialogue between the NALC, LCMS, and LCC. Initially meeting twice a year, this group engaged in honest and open theological discussion and sought ways the church bodies might work together in areas of common concern. Over a series of meetings, the dialogue began a discussion on the understanding of law and gospel. Some of the fruits of that discussion, including a statement, “God’s Word Forever Shall Abide: A Guiding Statement on the Character and Proper Use of the Sacred Scriptures” were harvested in the Necessary Distinction: A Continuing Conversation on Law & Gospel (CPH 2017), coedited by Jim, Albert Collver, and myself. In this volume, Jim contributed an essay on Romans 10:4, which in many ways, serves as a crystallization of thinking on law and gospel proclamation. Another critical essay by Jim on law and gospel, “Distinguishing Law and Gospel: A Functional View,” appeared posthumously in Lutheran Preaching? Law and Gospel Proclamation Today? (CPH 2023), edited by Matthew Harrison and me.

It was a delight to be together with Jim and Carolyn for the 500th anniversary of the Reformation in Wittenberg on October 31, 2017, as the NALC, LCMS, LCC dialogue met at the Old Latin School to mark the occasion. Jim and Carolyn almost missed that event due to the fact that Jim discovered that his

passport had expired when he arrived at the Minneapolis airport. Determined not to miss being in Germany for the party, Jim rushed to the passport office in the Twin Cities to see if something could be done. Fortunately, the director of the office recognized Jim’s North Dakota accent and discovered that he grew up in her hometown. She managed to expedite a passport renewal and Jim and Carolyn were on a flight to Germany by the end of the day! Jim didn’t miss the party and with his sparkling knowledge of Luther and Wittenberg, he was a perfect guide to the city and the treasures to be found there.

Jim was an active member of the dialogue right up to his death. He attended the most recent meeting by zoom in November and he was looking forward to the face-to-face meeting scheduled for Fort Wayne this coming April. I was looking forward to once again hosting a fireside chat with our students. But the Lord had other plans for Jim. His deep insights into the scriptures and the confessions, his humor and warmth, will be deeply missed in the dialogue. From a human point of view, Jim is irreplaceable.

During the final years of his life, Jim was an active participant in 1517, an organization devoted to proclaiming and defending the Gospel of Jesus Christ as it was articulated by Luther. Jim found ready and eager hearers at 1517’s Here

We Still Stand conferences held each October in San Diego. At the conference in 2018, Jim was presented with a festschrift

under the title, Handing over the Goods: Determined to Proclaim Nothing but Christ Jesus and Him Crucified: Essays in Honor of James Arne Nestingen, edited by Steven D. Paulson and Scott L. Keith. The volume echoed the themes of Jim’s life and calling all clustered around “handing over the goods” packed in the Word of the cross. It was a memorable evening of joy and thanksgiving for those of us privileged to be there with our friend, mentor, and colleague.

When Mark Mattes called me on the afternoon of December 31 with the news of Jim’s death, I like many others was shocked and numbed. Later that evening, I went to what was one of Jim’s last written works, a short essay, “The Theology of the Cross in the Lord’s Prayer” now published in Luther’s Large Catechism with Annotations and Notes, edited by me and Larry M. Vogel (CPH, 2023). I was especially struck and comforted by the concluding words of that essay, so strong with the promise of the resurrection. So I’ll let Jim have the last word: “…Jesus teaches us to conclude the Lord’s Prayer with two magnificent petitions: ‘Lead us not into temptation’ and “Deliver us from evil.’ In the Sixth Petition, we turn our temptations to ‘false belief, despair, and other great shame and vice’ over to Christ Jesus. He can handle – in fact, has handled – decisively what we can’t. When he takes the field, ‘even when we are so tempted,’ the devil has to tuck his tail between his legs and flee. The ‘strong man’ is bound and we are free. And then faith can hear the rumbling promise progressing through the

When he [Jesus] takes the field, ‘even when we are so tempted,’ the devil has to tuck his tail between his legs and flee. The ‘strong man’ is bound and we are free.

battlefield as our mighty fortress opens its doors and the Prince of Peace takes the field to win His ultimate victory against the forces remaining since Good Friday and Easter. Then we will be able to say the last Amen” (p. 520). Jim has uttered his final Amen and we who remain on the battlefield give thanks to Christ Jesus for the victory he now enjoys.

John T. Pless, M.Div.; D. Litt, is Assistant Professor of Pastoral Ministry & Mission, Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, Indiana

ONE WHOM CHRIST REPENTED: IN MEMORY of REV. DR. JAMES A. NESTINGEN

Marney Fritts

As Jim Nestingen has said, “preaching repentance is a problem.” The sinner in us is either convinced that it is my part of the bargain that I bring to the relationship with God, or that repentance is what other people, if they want to be saved, really need to get serious about. Often enough, repentance is taken up as a discipline during certain times of the liturgical year. Faith goes to work on itself, making repentance a kind of job jar, yet the old sinner can never quite seem to get the work done. The sinner is convinced that repentance is an expectation that, with some discipline and true devotion, he can accomplish. Dr. Nestingen called this the standard account of repentance.

Jim Nestingen’s teaching of repentance and faith, however, broke out of this garden variety telling of repentance, i.e., “Once I was a rotten sinner, but I found Jesus and I am dedicating my life to him.” In the standard

account of repentance, the “I” is in control. But Luther and Lutherans understand the scriptures to be saying something quite different when it comes to repentance. So, when a preacher comes with the word in his/her mouth, the law which accuses and the gospel which raises, the power and the strength of the Holy Spirit is needed to stand against the hearers who are working on themselves. And in order for a sinner to receive this word of repentance, it is the work of the Holy Spirit alone to repent active, inveterate sinners to Christ. First, through the Law which drowns and kills the old Adam and, second, through the gospel which raises up an entirely new creature of faith. In so doing, God repents the sinner to himself, wresting us from the grip of our own sin and death and securing us in the grip of the risen Christ. This is what the Augsburg Confession Article XII means when it uses the passive word for repentance (convertuntur), being “brought to repentance.” The Apology describes these two parts of repentance, the drowning of the old and the raising of the new, as contrition and faith. We see this, for example, when Christ repents the woman at the well and she comes to faith in him (John 4:4-42).

Dr. Nestingen was renowned for his teaching of Luther’s Small Catechism. Listening to him open up the depth and wonder of such a small book was like walking into a closet wardrobe only to step out into a vast wonder land of law and gospel distinction. He lived in the catechism just as he lived in his Norwegian kofte. He was constantly massaging Luther’s words—the words working on him—and just like the author,

Jim was a lifelong pastor and teacher. Nevertheless, he never mastered the catechism and remained a student of it as long as he lived. But one of his best teachings from the Small Catechism was that on repentance.

When it came to teaching repentance, Jim was hands down the best there was. His numerous stories of hearing people’s confessions, whether on an airplane, in his old office at Luther Seminary, during his infamous internship, or at his congregation in Coquille, Oregon, he was able to identify and teach the working of the law on the conscience and the way in which delivering the goods sets a person free. He had a steel trap of an ear when he heard people’s stories and unwitting confessions. He could hear the creature bound in the burden of sin, with heartache, or in the depths of despair. And at just the right moment, he would spring a sinner free from the depths of hell. With tears welling up in his own eyes, he would lay a hand on the head of the one in whom God was working repentance, and in a quiet brogue announce, “I have heard your confession. But I have a word from Christ Jesus for you. He has taken your heavy burden from you, crucified it in his own body, and remembers it no more. On account of Christ Jesus, I declare unto you the forgiveness of your sin. Isn’t that just great?!” And right then and there, a new creature was made. Faith was raised out of the depths of despair. Christ, through the deep brogue of a Norwegian preacher’s kid, repented a sinner of his own redeeming to himself once more.

Jim would expound on the daily drowning of the old sinful self with all of its evil deeds and desires and the raising of a new self that arises with Christ and his righteousness. It was at

these times when he opened up the work of the Holy Spirit, not the old self, in repentance. To be sure, when Jesus says, “repent and believe for the kingdom of God is at hand,” he is not giving the old Adam an erector set. He calls us to repentance, pulling us and delivering us from ourselves. This is, of course, precisely what the confessions say, reflecting Scripture: we are brought (passive) to repentance (convertuntur). In repentance, God is the active one, the sinner is the passive recipient. We are ones done unto by the Almighty God who has come into the world to save sinners, not to assist those who are working on themselves. He has come to put the old sinner to death through his law so that he may raise a new creature of faith, free from law, for whom the law has been silenced.

Repentance is worked in the sinner by the work of the law in our lives, drowning us in the daily, down and dirty activity of our vocations: getting up in the middle of the night to care for and bathe the child who is ill; going to a job, day after day, that may be sucking the life out of you or may be a source of joy for you; cleaning the toilets. In our vocations the old sinner is brought down to earth, brought low, and used up for the sake of the neighbor, whether he wants to or not. But this is only one level where God works repentance in us.

A whole other level is the squatting of the law in the conscience where Christ alone belongs. One of the main reasons Jim was an expert in this teaching of

One of the main reasons Jim was an expert in this teaching of repentance was his deep study of Luther’s singular mastery in capturing the power of the law to accuse the conscience.

repentance was his deep study of Luther’s singular mastery in capturing the power of the law to accuse the conscience. The law for Luther, was not simply the decalogue. It was not simply a moral code which, if we were just told what to do, and with the aid of grace, would gladly hear and do it. Luther understood quite explicitly and personally that the law demands many good works. It even demands repentance. But he also found in Paul that the law was given to reveal transgressions (Galatians 3:19), not to remove them; and to increase them (Romans 5:20), not to reduce, much less eliminate them. In fact, the law revives sin (Romans 7:7), it does not kill it. Indeed, the law demands what it cannot produce.

The law demands repentance, but it does not give the old Adam in us the power to accomplish it. Nestingen came to understand from Luther that the law’s demand and its power was not only an attack on our wandering eyes (6th commandment) and thieving hands (7th commandment), but that it attacks the higher and hidden parts of the old Adam: the conscience. “For the law is not given in order to justify and vivify or help anything to righteousness (cf. Galatians 3:21). But in order to show sin and work wrath (cf. Romans 3:20; 4:15), that is accuse the conscience.” This addresses the terrors of conscience that come, not only when God exposes our breaking of the 6th commandment, for example, but even from the sound of the rustling of a leaf to put one to flight (Leviticus 26:36). Luther explains further that the office of the

law and law itself is, “Whatever shows sin, wrath, and death . . . be it in the Old Testament or in the New Testament. For to reveal sin is nothing else nor can it be anything else than to be law or to be the effect and power of the law in the most proper sense. The law and the showing of sin, or revelation of the wrath, are synonymous terms . . .” The law is not simply a written code, though it can be found on tablets of stone in the ministry of death. But when the law gets loose in relationships, it becomes a crushing power over the conscience, even when there is no apparent moral transgression. In these ways, God is driving us to repentance. This is the beginning of repentance. This beginning of repentance, however, is the coming of the end of the accusing law and the beginning of freedom from the law (Galatians 5:1), new life in Christ alone. Jim could spot a person with a battered and burdened conscience a mile away. He had a bloodhound nose for those in the midst of repentance, even and especially when they did not realize they were being repented. He would always have the words to say, to lift them from their navel gazing, and raise them from the dead. He would give them the absolution so they would be free to be the creatures God had created them to be: human beings who trust Christ alone in all things. Such is the life of faith, but faith in Christ is only possible once the law is brought to an end.

Faith, then, is the flipside of repentance. We are drowned in daily repentance and are raised to dance daily in faith. Repentance and faith overlap in the simul iustus et peccator,

just as the old and new kingdom overlap. As Dr. Nestingen always taught, “the gospel overlaps the law; it confirms the accusation of the law.” The relationship between repentance and faith is not a synthesis of the two. It is an eschatological relationship, the pouring of new wine into old wine skins. “For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes” (Romans 10:4). An end and an entirely new beginning the world knows not of. The law which works repentance comes to an end when the gospel arrives in Christ Jesus, for you, in the forgiveness of sins. In Christ, God has accomplished what the law could not do. When Christ arrives, he takes us out of the grip of our own hands and the grip of the law’s accusation and puts us into the grip of his own hands. Left to ourselves, the law always accuses (lex semper accusat). But in the grip of the One who has overcome your sin, death, and the devil―the law, and wrath are “emptied or quieted.” Jesus Christ silences the law’s accusation by stuffing its mouth with his sin-pocked, crucified, and dead body, accomplishing what the law demanded but was never given the power to accomplish.

So, repentance finds its end in faith, a free and merry spirit. Through the preaching of the law and the gospel, repentance finds its true end, not in a return to slavery under the law, but in the freedom of faith, life lived in the promises of Christ. At the last, faith finds its end in the resurrection from the dead and life everlasting, seeing God face to face, with all the angels and the saints in heaven. Our dear friend, teacher, pastor, and

The law which works repentance comes to an end when the gospel arrives in Christ Jesus, for you, in the forgiveness of sins.

colleague has been taken entirely out of the grip of his own hands and is no more simul, but pure saint in the grip of Christ Jesus. Jim is one whom Christ has fully and eternally repented to his Heavenly Father. May it be as well with all of us.

Marney Fritts teaches systematic theology for Saint Paul Lutheran Seminary and is the pastor of Tahoma Lutheran Church. She and her husband live with their two children in Maple Valley, WA.

Endnotes:

1James Nestingen, “Preaching Repentance,” in Justification is for Preaching, edited by Virgil Thompson (Pickwick: Eugene, 2012), 230-246.

2Book of Concord, edited by Robert Kolb and Timothy Wengert (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2000), 188-191.

3Ibid., 45.

4Only the Decalogue is Eternal, edited and translated by Holger Sonntag (Minneapolis: Cygnus Series Lutheran Press, 2008), 79.

5Ibid., 80.

6Nestingen, “Preaching Repentance,” 234.

NOW WE PRAY: JIM NESTINGEN AS ADVISOR AND PASTOR

Tony D. Ede

I suppose I was lucky to have met Jim when I was just in high school. My home congregation pastor and Jim graduated from Luther Seminary together, so there was a connection that was made very early in my life when the gifts for ministry were emerging for me. I clearly remember taking a morning trip as a high school junior to Luther Seminary to visit and meet whomever I could. This included my pastor’s good friend, “Jim.”

I didn’t know what to expect. My time on any campus was pretty limited and mostly included moving my sister into Wartburg College her freshman year a couple years prior. Outside of that, my perception of going to a “seminary” with my pastor was filled with visions of men walking around with tonsured haircuts and women wearing habits and long robes. As you probably guessed, I was wrong. We entered the front doors of Gullixson Hall as classes were in session. As we walked up the first short set of stairs, we could hear Jim’s booming laughter. My pastor exclaimed without even seeing him, “there he is.” Sitting in the familiar

chairs in front of the large woodcut on the first floor, we watched people come and go and listened as best as we could to Jim teaching. You could tell his lecture was engaging, participatory, and that the students were interested. As the classes ended and everyone escaped to their next scheduled event, Jim came out and greeted my pastor with that big voiced “How you doing!?” that so many of us would soon be on the receiving end of. He took time with me―just a high school student―to visit a bit, showing us the building and taking us up the stairs to his office for a moment before a group of students entered for what I now know as an advisee meeting.

I was impressed first off that he wasn’t wearing a monastic robe, but instead, had regular clothes on, including that all too familiar navy blue and white sweater he wore as his “outer layer.” Secondly, I was impressed that he spoke so casually. We could have been having the same conversation at a diner or co-op in our small town. He spoke to me like my uncle would have in that deep and joyful prairie brogue with genuine interest in who was in front of him. I knew then that this was someone that I wanted to have in my life, and more importantly, that he was someone that the Holy Spirit had put in my life.

Fast forward through college and several meetings with Jim as he spoke at events in my local area. Our paths crossed many times prior to me being accepted into seminary and being assigned as one of his advisees. He had a heart for me, not

just because we had met before, but because I was one of those students who found himself in seminary just three weeks after graduating college. I was also newly wed just two weeks prior, so Jim had an instant interest in our marriage, and he connected us with those who could help us in that first year.

The pattern of study in my first term was predictable but guided. Jim taught us that we needed to be at chapel regardless of the preacher or teacher. We needed to be there, he explained, to hear God’s Word and to receive the sacrament. After chapel on Wednesdays, we would meet as an advisee group in the basement of the campus center to pray, study God’s word, and to lean on one another. This weekly meeting with all of his closest students played a vital role in my seminary career.

Jim taught us that we needed to be at chapel regardless of the preacher or teacher. We needed to be there, he explained, to hear God’s Word and to receive the sacrament.

In more recent years, Jim and I would catch up with the occasional phone call, email or visit. I would see him at the gatherings of the North American Lutheran Church where we would have a few moments to steal away to catch up and reminisce on the times we had together at Luther Seminary. It was always my desire to continue my education and goals of lifelong learning with a D. Min. degree program which Jim was always encouraging me toward. I mourn this missing part of my story, but I know that when additional studies are possible, Jim’s care and encouragement will go with me. I am fortunate to have had the lessons both in and out of the classroom that Jim instilled in so many of his

students. Many saw Jim as a professor and a teacher of the church. Some thought of Jim as a prophet (small “p”), historian, or theologian. Others thought he was a pain in the neck. What he was for me was a pastor and friend. He was able to provide the kind and gentle assurance of what Christ Jesus did on the cross for me. Jesus saved this poor and miserable sinner and shed light on the vocation that the Holy Spirit has called me to. Jim “handed over the goods” to the whole church, and then equipped his students to do likewise. The pastoral ministry of Jim’s students is more fruitful and organic because of this simple teaching of a practical faith and ministry. I’m hopeful that the grammar of the Gospel that he instilled in me will continue to be on the tips of the tongues of the generations of Lutheran faithful to come.

Rev. Tony D. Ede STS, MBA is the Senior Pastor at First Evangelical Lutheran Church in Manchester, Iowa. Tony has served congregations in Woodbury, MN, Kimballton, IA, Webster City, IA, and Manchester, IA. Tony is a leader in the North American Lutheran Church having served on the Renewal Team, Lutheran Week Planning Team, Communications Team, Pastor's Conference Planning Team, as a breakout session presenter on media law, and as the moderator for the NALC Academy, a monthly video podcast featuring leaders throughout the NALC. Tony is married to LeAnn and they have three boys, Carver, Liam, and Burke.

JIM NESTINGEN AS EXPERIENCED BY STEVE PAULSON

Jim Nestingen grew up on the Northern Plains at the border of Canada among pioneer farmers who were called there from the four corners of the world ― especially from the rural poverty of nineteenth-century Norway. Those farmers were often the second or third sons who inherited little from their fathers’ estates and so adventured to America to use the Homestead Act and claim their 160 acres (provided they could last five years). Surviving that long was no mean feat, which you know if you have ever spent a winter near Bowbells or Estevan. The farmers loved their soil, but even more their families, whose men were good looking, whose women were strong and whose children were above average. They had to be rugged individuals in harsh circumstances living lives far away from anyone they knew—consequently they became ardently communal and coordinated work within families and between farms. Most things were shared and help was given to the weak; in short order they were not only Grange but

full-blooded communist planters who recognized the problem of banks, capital and the control of monied land by people other than those who harvested and fed others directly.

Farms were necessarily far apart, and Scandinavian men are short on words in any case, so their main communication was telling tall tales. We tell jokes and teach and express ourselves in stories of the fruitless fight against the weather, wealthy banks, and gloomy depression. Storytelling understands that everything in life transitions from life to death and thus ends tragically. However, the very best stories of such farmers were not tragedies they told amazing stories of resurrection from the dead that went far beyond the earthly balms of the cycle of seasons or an occasional bumper crop. Jim’s Norwegian farmers learned these not from nature, but from their little Lutheran catechisms. Wherever they could claim land, they not only built sod houses (and then wood), but also built churches as quickly as they could, and from them they learned that Christian stories are comic, not tragic; they end with eternal life rather than cyclical death.

Despite leaving their motherland along with their biological family trees, these pioneer Lutherans could take their entire faith to the new land by making a pulpit, baptismal font, and communion table. All that they had to add was a preacher—

sometimes gotten from the homeland, but then increasingly from their new land. Jim’s Dad was one of those preachers, and when he preached to such farmers, they received both words from God of death and life the law and the gospel. Without further ado, the holy, Christian church was suddenly present in their midst! Thus, not only did they manage to bring this old-world comfort into the harsh plains, they also opened the door to heaven’s eternal life in their new place, just like the one wandering Jacob found by laying his head on the rock. Most importantly, they learned that the one thing more powerful than the wind, fire and freezing cold (and even the greedy bank) was the simple word of forgiveness proclaimed by their preacher.

So it is that both farmers and preachers told stories that haunted and freed Jim throughout his life. He learned how to tell and re-tell these twisted, surprising and exalted stories in superlative form. The outstanding feature of Jim’s preaching was his gallows humor that ended in resurrection. Everyone who has spoken to him for five minutes remembers his laugh that emerged from the depths of his body and brought both the hangman and Christ. The hangman hovers over the grave as impending disaster, Christ arrives to a fresh grave from the other side in order to pull the dead man out by the hand:

“Come out Lazarus!” While the pious always bristled at Jim’s

bawdiness, sinners were attracted in droves to that very laugh—they would be caught up in it and start laughing just like Jim even if they had no idea why or what they were laughing at. Of course, Jim was teaching how Christians laugh at death—but this is never easy. It takes a man who has felt death and the ecstasy of rising with death behind him to learn it and even more to preach it. God gives the gospel through people to people, which also means through a story to a story—and solely by this means reverses comedy (the Christian story) and tragedy (the world’s way of describing life).

God gives the gospel through people—to people, which also means through a story to a story — and solely by this means reverses comedy (the Christian story) and tragedy (the world’s way of describing life).

Tragedy thus always leads, but comedy wins. Jim’s stories were therefore not merely dark, gallows humor—but twisted, macabre irony. Irony cannot be taught; it can only be lived. Indeed, Christians are not only comedians in the end, they are full of irony on the way there. This is the reason Christ announced to the Pharisees that he had come for sinners only not the righteous (Mark 2). Jesus wins a great victory in the end—comedy! Yet, there is great suffering, sin, despair and loss along the way. Christians call this the way of the cross rather than glory.

I can’t tell you how many times I went to speak at high

sounding “learned” societies with Jim when the other scholars were first dumbfounded, then flabbergasted, at Jim’s speech. Why does this man speak so? He sounded like a lugubrious, or stupid, Norwegian farmer. But even more, he spoke to the most learned men in the world as if he were reading stories to children. They would deliver their address in the accustomed fashion of the scholar, with a thesis followed by detailed explanation, ending with the repetition of the thesis—proved! But Jim knew that was no way to teach Luther, to say nothing of teaching life and the gospel. Theirs was the scholasticism Luther had freed the world from, and Jim was not about to go back to that. The Gospel, after all, is a story. The story can be told long (like the Gospel of Matthew) or short (like one of Paul’s letters), but it will not have a thesis, it will have a beginning, middle and end—as all stories do.

Christ’s story begins at the start of all creation. Jim was especially aware of this part of the tale and especially good at it. We sometimes call this “beginning” the “first article” after the first article of the creed. It begins: “I believe in God the Father almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.” Creation is not a foil for salvation like our friendly Barthians teach. You and the world were not made by God through Christ in order to go through the drama of salvation—salvation was made because God already wanted created things from the beginning, before

sin, and loved them. He still does. Jim learned some of the technical matters of this theology from one of the greats in Sweden (of all places) named Gustav Wingren. Wingren made a career of freeing 20th century Lutherans from their European hatred of creation received from both Karl Barth and Rudolph Bultmann—the two “big names” of theology up to then. But Jim recognized that this teaching of the first article of the creed came from his own earthly father who preached it to communist farmers. This made Jim so “down-toearth” as only a Christian can be. You have to know the end of the law before you can identify its proper location and use: “Do we then overthrow the law by this faith? By no means! On the contrary, we establish the law,” says Paul (Romans 3:31). The law ends, and just so has its proper place in the lives of families, farmers and preachers.

But Jim recognized that this teaching of the first article of the creed came from his own earthly father who preached it to communist farmers. This made Jim so “down-toearth” as only a Christian can be.

God does not want us to aspire for greatness— divinity that supposedly climbs the ladder into his majestic, almighty power. He does not want us to ascend mystically by making God the greatest desire we have ever had. God wants us to be human—and that is all. Some say Jim enjoyed being human too much, but how can that be? We are made creatures of God, created in his image as males and as females

for being fruitful and multiplying. Children, crops, animals, foods and drinks and mutual conversation all of these are life, and it is what God wanted from the beginning, as well as what he resurrects in the end once the death of disbelief has gripped us.

This is why Jim said he learned the Small Catechism on his grandfather’s tractor wheel in the rhythm of its plowing and planting. Even when sin entered (since we did not want to be creatures but God, not created but “flesh” that fights against spirit) Jesus Christ came down incarnate—true God and true man born of a woman, born under the law. Jesus Christ came “down-to-earth” so that the one who was above the law stooped beneath the law. Jesus himself suffered the full accusation of the law and thus also death and the power of the lying devil. But the one who knew no sin, and yet became sin (2 Corinthians 5), did this all “so that I may be his own…” (Small Catechism). Jesus came to take my sin and defeat it, so that when he dies, I will also die in a baptism like his, and certainly then rise—in a resurrection like his.

And to think this is only the “middle” of the story! Jim often wept when telling this part of the tale. His tears were also as much a part of Jim as his conquering laugh. No one I ever met could go into such great detail concerning what the ten commandments actually demanded. Nor could anyone tell the

story of what God means by a real creature in the first place— and why God bothered to make us at all. We are to learn to get along with our Creator not take his name in vain! That means, for example, learning how to curse properly! That is an art, after all. And we are to learn to get along with our neighbors—not killing! Not hating! Not committing adultery as if sex were our own plaything. But how shall any of these things be done? The power is not in me!

In the end, Jim was the most “down-to earth” teacher of the first article of the creed; the mostheartfelt conveyer of the second article and Christ’s own suffering, death and resurrection. Still, his story telling is all about the final word the comedy that overcomes the tragedy of life. Jim was our best bestower of the third article, and the unlikely, boisterous handmaiden of the Holy Spirit. We all know Jim for his laugh and his cry, but especially for how he could “bring the heat,” and “deliver the goods.” The end of Christ’s story intertwined with our own is a punch line. That word is the means the Holy Spirit uses—through men to men; through a sinner to a sinner—to call you through the gospel that Jim taught and used. If you are going to truly forgive

And we are to learn to get along with our neighbors—not killing! Not hating! Not committing adultery as if sex were our own plaything. But how shall any of these things be done? The power is not in me!

sins—my own and that of all believers—then you have to learn how to listen to the sinner: to learn to “hear the creature waiting.” Like most great preachers, Jim was very quiet by nature. He liked solitude, but also was able patiently to listen to the tragic story of each sinner who came to him—one by one. Every such tale is different, of course, with dark, sorrowful details of the struggle of life with sin, death and the power of the devil. Midway into this confession a preacher often wants to blurt out: “you did wha?”

Jim’s own aptitude for humanity let him become a veritable garbage dump of tragedy and is the reason he loved the classic story Young Men and Fire. When the story came to its inevitable ending of death and destruction—he would then have the very short word of the Gospel—as given by the Holy Spirit. That preaching is called the office of the keys, and when it is used at the right moment, with the right person (as God had decided long ago) then you have the greatest ending the true comedy, the sudden unexpected twist and the “last day” on which “Jesus Christ raises me and all the dead and gives me and all believers in Christ eternal life.” So, Jim would say, “as a called and ordained minister of the church of Christ and by his authority I declare to you the

full forgiveness of all your sin.”

Then what? Well then, a new story begins that is unlike anything previously told. This story is actually not a story any longer; it ends neither in tragedy or comedy but is pure and total freedom. At this point, Jim liked to take out his pipe and sit for a good smoke, anticipating what this life would look like. Free to be! For others, this freedom presented horrors of endless “what if” scenarios, potential abuses and stumblings. They routinely warned of the dangers of this freedom from law, from sin, and from death—as if Christ’s freedom and story could be anything but some version of starting the whole process of life over again this time trying not to make the same mistake of sin again. But Jim knew that though we have the new life only in faith now and not in sight or in feeling—it was not something fearful. The new heavenly life was precisely what worries us most right now. It is a glorious freedom to be God’s creatures in full use of all that gives us joy and life even now: family, neighbors, food, home, animals, plants, good weather—no government! Fruitfulness beyond measure. Praising saying Amen! Rehearsing the best of our stories, including the Lord’s Prayer, but now as filled and accomplished—our Father’s kingdom having come! His name hallowed! His will done on earth as in heaven! Getting our daily bread, and freely forgiving as we have been forgiven. Finally, not tempted but delivered from the evil one his

kingdom, power and glory forever and ever. The one true comedy. Amen.

Dr. Steven Paulson is a colleague and friend of Jim Nestingen, and senior fellow at 1517.org

SINNER AND SAINT: THE JAMES NESTINGEN I KNEW

Jonathan Thompson

It was the afternoon of December 30, 2022 and I was on vacation with my family when I called Dr. Jim Nestingen to check in. We spoke about the two classes he was going to lead me through and the books he wanted us to read. I always appreciated these book recommendations as he often knew the authors and would talk about visiting their homes or the times they visited his. Jim liked to hear about my fourteenyear-old daughter, who is a handful. He would laugh and tell me about the similar problems his fourteen-year-old granddaughter was causing for his son.

Jim also mentioned the text study he was working on for the next week. It was Luke Chapter 2, where Mary and Joseph lose track of Jesus and find him three days later in the temple. Jesus is confused as to why his parents could not find him and asks, “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”

Jim was excited about the text and called it one of his favorites. He ended the call as he always did with “God’s

Peace.” It was one of countless phone calls and conversations I was blessed to have with him. During each call Jim made you feel as if he were waiting for you and was excited you had reached out. He had a knack for making so many feel so special.

Less than 18 hours later, Jim’s wife Carolyn would call with the devastating news that he was dead. At the funeral later that week, I met some of his other students, some from years ago, who shared similar stories about their studies with him. For all of us, he was a larger-than-life scholar who brought the gospel and the absolution to life.

But the first time I met Jim wasn’t in the classroom. Jim and Carolyn attended Trinity Lutheran Church in Dallas, Oregon during the summers. It is the same church that my family attends. I knew Jim as the very nice guy who sat in the back and went out of his way to say hello after the service. After one of my chats with him, our pastor at the time walked up and I asked him for a book recommendation on Luther. Our pastor pointed to Jim and said, “he wrote one, start there.” So I went home and typed “Jim Nestingen” into Amazon and was shocked. The very nice gentleman in the back of our church was an internationally known Luther scholar with many books and articles to his credit. To me, he was Jim. I had no idea of the scholarly treasure who graced our pews.

When I felt the call to seminary, Jim was someone I sought out as part of the discernment process. He understood my family commitments and that our small business was not something I could leave for an on-site program. He mentioned

he was part of the faculty at St. Paul Lutheran Seminary, and that it would be a good fit. I enrolled and we began to study together. I am forever grateful for the time he spent with me. I learned so much. The legacy Jim leaves behind is as large as his chuckle that echoes in so many churches still today.

Two of Jim’s most important teachings were his love of the absolution and his dedication to the preached word.

Jim’s obituary summed him up well when it said that,“he was not always patient [and] was at times bullish.” But it went on to describe him as loving, and I can personally attest to this side of him as well. To me, he personified the simul justus et peccator (simultaneously being a saint and sinner). As sure as Jim was of the promise made to him in his baptism, that he was indeed saved, he also knew that he was a sinner. Even with all his study, Jim knew he could not save himself. That is why he grabbed hold of the gospel and became a champion of it. He knew he needed it and that the rest of us did too.

But if you really wanted to see Jim light up, talk about the absolution. He could never hear those beautiful words enough and often choked up as he was speaking them or having them spoken to him. Jim also had an ear for people who were struggling, whether they knew it or not, and who needed to hear about the lifesaving gift of Christ Jesus. One of the countless stories Jim loved to tell had him on a plane back to his home in Minneapolis. He was talking to the guy next to him and it became clear that this gentleman was weighed down by his own sin. As they approached the Minneapolis airport, it was time to offer the absolution. Jim stood up and placed his hands on the man and started in. The only problem was the plane was landing and he was supposed to be in his seat with

his seat belt fastened and his tray table in the upright and locked position. The flight attended rush over and tried to get Jim back in his seat. But Jim would not be stopped and finished absolving the man next to him. I often wonder if that flight attendant lamented her unruly passenger over dinner that night.

Jim often remarked that if the absolution could free him from his sin, then the rest of us could be freed as well.

Then there was Jim’s love of the preached word. I often sought his advice on the text prior to writing a sermon, and he was always spot on about picking out the law and the promise―Jesus’ forgiveness. What will stick with me the most is Jim’s persistence in “delivering the goods,” that is, proclaiming the good news of the gospel. He did not want to hear about this trend or that in a sermon. The news of the day, or politics, had no place. As preachers, we are to preach the text.

One sermon in particular sticks out. I was preparing to deliver a sermon on the resurrection, and I read him part of it, which included a passage about Jesus saying, “I am the resurrection.” Jesus does not say “I might be” or “If you follow the rules, I will be the resurrection and the life.” No, Jesus says “I am.” And when Jesus makes you a promise, He follows through.

Jim chuckled and said yep, but it is even simpler than that. The resurrection is not just some historical fact. When Jesus went to the cross and then rose from the grave, he did it for you. The resurrection is for you. And then he added, “it is not

What will stick with me the most is Jim’s persistence in “delivering the goods,” that is, proclaiming the good news of the gospel.

a possibility, it is a promise.” Each time I prepare a sermon, I hear Jim’s voice encouraging me to “deliver the goods” and make sure the people in the congregation know that those promises are not some abstract concept, but rather that those promises from Jesus are for them―the people stuck in sin and sitting in the pew.

“For you” making the promises of the gospel personal, was important to Jim. In the opening lines of “Free to Be” which Jim wrote with Gerhard Forde, it says that “God has made a decision about you. God hasn’t waited to find out how sincere you are, how devout or religious you might be, or how well you understand the Bible and the Catechism. God hasn’t even waited to find out if you are interested or willing to take this decision seriously. God has simply decided. God made this decision knowing full well the kind of person you are.”1 Jim wanted to make sure that each sermon preached made the promise of the gospel real and personal. That God made you a promise and He will keep it.

Jim’s death leaves behind big shoes to fill. He was a brilliant theologian. This part of him might be described as “head knowledge.” Jim definitely had that and had he stopped there, he would have left an indelible mark on Lutheran theology. But what made Jim truly special was his heart which could take all the head knowledge gained from decades of study and make it personal to you. Jim did not talk about Jesus’ death, he talked about how Jesus died for you. He did not talk about the resurrection as something which happened in history, he talked about how Jesus’ resurrection opened the grave for you. Yes, Jim was a brilliant theologian, but he also had one of the greatest pastoral hearts of anyone I have ever met. That

combination of head knowledge and heart compassion, which came so naturally to him, will be hard to replace.

I recall a time a couple of years ago when he sat by the bed of a dying member of our church. For two days they sang hymns and prayed. When she died, Jim called me in tears― not of sadness, but of joy in helping ease her into death.

Jim’s book recommendations were always fantastic. We read Gustav Wingren’s Luther on Vocation and discussed it. It was a wonderful study on how God is using us, through our vocations as parents, employees and small business owners to continue the work of creation.

Martin Luther’s Commentary on Galatians was another book Jim talked about often. He told the story of a preacher friend of his who would read through one of the two volumes each year. Jim could tell when his friend stopped because his preaching was not quite as good.

The recommendation I will be most grateful for is the book we read last summer, Spiritus Creator by Regin Prenter. Jim had talked about this book for quite some time before we read it together. He talked about how there was no better study of Luther on the Holy Spirit than this book. One day when we were at his home outside of Dallas, he took me up to his study where he had the wonderful, old, hardcover edition of Prenter’s book. He talked about how much he loved that book and how any study of the Holy Spirit without Prenter was incomplete. He had a giant smile on his face as he showed me

his copy.

While space does not allow going too far into Prenter’s work, I will always treasure the way in which it made the Holy Spirit, and His role in the Trinity, so real. I will be forever grateful for the books that Jim wrote and those he introduced me to. When he really liked a book, after we read it, he would tell me to keep the book close and read it again and again.

Jim’s family used a photo for his obituary and at his service which captured him perfectly. It showed him holding a microphone, smiling and laughing. You can hear that deep Scandinavian laugh of his through the picture. The laugh that would warm a room. But what strikes me most about the photo is how it perfectly captured Jim’s love of preaching and teaching. His love of sharing the gospel.

Jim’s love of the absolution and the preached word is something we should all strive to continue. He often described what he was doing as simply one sinner helping another like a hungry beggar showing another where to find food. Jim was not perfect, and he knew it, that is why he hung onto the absolution and preached word. Because as great as he was, he knew his own work would never save him. But Christ Jesus already had. And Jim wanted to share that salvation with the world.

Like the text we discussed the day before Jim died, he has now gone to his father’s house―the one with many rooms. While we will miss him, he leaves behind a rich legacy as a scholar. But more importantly, he left a love for the gospel and Christ Jesus which is still a light for his friends, family and

students.

Well done my friend and until we meet again – God’s Peace.

Jonathan Thompson lives with his wife, Jennifer, and their daughter in Keizer, Oregon (the heart of wine country). They own and operate a local small business. Jonathan is working on a Master of Divinity degree from St. Paul Lutheran Seminary which should be complete in December. He is a member of Trinity Lutheran Church in Dallas, Oregon where he helps with pulpit supply. Jonathan also serves his local police department as a chaplain. When not at the church or their small business, he enjoys cooking (anything on a BBQ), reading, the great outdoors, and flying in his private plane.

Endnote:

1James A. Nestingen and Gerhard O. Forde, Free to Be: A Handbook to Luther’s Small Catechism (Minneapolis, Minnesota: Augsburg Fortress, 1993), 5.

REMEMBERING JIM

Roy A. Harrisville III

“Umm.”

Rev. James A. Nestingen, ThD is remembered for his winsome explanation of God’s grace and his unyielding defense of the Christian faith. His many lectures and presentations (often laced with the occasional “umm”) and his publications of Lutheran theology rank among the best that North American scholarship has to offer. For those fortunate to have known him he was a fierce friend and loyal colleague. He knew absolutely that anything positive in his life was a divine gift and that he had contributed nothing to his own righteousness except to trouble the gracious Lord who bestowed it upon him. He was a genuine brother in Christ whose sudden absence left us grieving but whose Lord has enriched us all by the gifts Jim was given.

That is how we remember him. But that’s not how it started!

Jim and his wife, Carolyn, built a dream home near Dallas, Oregon. They made frequent trips from their first home in St. Paul, MN to Oregon and back. On one such trip Jim was on his own going through North Dakota back to St. Paul. It was

winter, cold, and snowing. He stopped off at a truck stop in Jamestown where he and his brother had once lived. He walked into the restaurant and sidled up to the counter, taking a seat beside a local “old timer.” The fellow broke the ice first by asking Jim where he was from. Jim told him he was enroute from Oregon to the Twin Cities in Minnesota. “What’s your name?” the old timer asked. “Nestingen,” Jim replied. “Nestingen, … Nestingen,” said the old fellow. “There used to be a couple Nestingen boys around here … they were real hellions!” “Well,” Jim replied, “I’m one of them.” With a look of horror the old guy asked, “You’re not coming back are you!?” Jim asked the fellow how he could remember that far back. The man replied, “This is your hometown. We never forget!”

While he was attending Concordia College in Moorhead, MN he was thinking about going to the seminary. The president of Concordia at that time, Joseph Knutson (“Prexie Joe” as he was called), sent a letter to Al Rogness, the president of Luther Seminary, stating that Rogness should not allow Jim to attend the seminary because he was too much trouble!

“Umm.”

Jim, however, did attend Luther Seminary in St. Paul, MN for his MDiv degree despite the advice of his college president and because Dr. Rogness saw something in Jim that was of value to the gospel. In those days a year’s internship at a congregation was required after the second year of studies.

Jim wasn’t even sure he wanted to continue his seminary training, especially if it meant enduring a whole year for an internship. Dr. Roy Harrisville, professor of New Testament, met Jim in the tunnel that stretches between Gullixson and Bøckman Halls. Jim told him that he was thinking about quitting the seminary. Dr. Harrisville told Jim to talk to his dad, who was a Lutheran pastor himself. His dad told Jim that he was still young and could afford to “spare an extra year.” So off he went on internship.

Internship for Jim was in Washington state. Sometimes internship can be as smooth as silk, and at other times as rough as sandpaper. Jim’s was the latter. But as so often happens, hardship brings great growth and maturity.

Jim’s internship supervising pastor, who had previously been in the mission field, was married. But his wife was having an affair with another woman. Jim requested a letter from then seminary president, Al Rogness, that would allow him to stay or leave as he wished. The pastor ended up resigning his call, which left Jim to do all the preaching and teaching for the whole congregation. No small task for a young seminarian. But when his internship was concluded, and he returned for his senior year at Luther Seminary, he found that he had developed a wonderfully healthy appetite for theology!

That appetite led him to graduate school at the University of St. Michael’s College of the University of Toronto, where he received his ThD. His studies would eventually lead him

to a teaching position at Luther Seminary where he excelled in the classroom and the writing desk. One of his colleagues considered Jim a heretic at first because he emphasized the sovereignty of God too much, until he read what Jim wrote and then quickly changed his mind.

“Umm.”

Jim shared a bond of faith with many of his family, friends, and colleagues. But he also shared struggles with those whose brand of faith was changing with the wind. Jim was never one to back down from a fight, especially when it meant the truth of the gospel was at stake. That’s why he found his way to the North American Lutheran Church and became one of its premier theologians. He was a keynote speaker at many NALC events and workshops and also helped start St. Paul Lutheran Seminary, serving as its provost and supplying weekly text studies. Jim also served on the Commission for Theology and Doctrine of the NALC where his voice was always forceful in its theological acumen and passion.

Jim spoke with a heavy Scandinavian brogue which seemed to intensify the more he spoke. The fact is that he had spent a great deal of time with both his grandparents and greatgrandparents, all of whom were of Norwegian extraction. No doubt their speech patterns had a deep and abiding effect on him. Once while he was riding the ferry from Denmark to Norway, he struck up a conversation with a woman from California. As they approached the ferry landing in Oslo and were about to part company, the woman in all seriousness

asked Jim, “So, have you ever been to America then?”

Jim’s paternal grandfather, Ingar Nestingen, impressed an important truth upon Jim and his younger brother Rolf. “It doesn’t take any brains to talk fancy. What takes real brains is to talk simple.” Jim would take that to heart in both his teaching and writing. He would make many speaking trips around the United States and overseas, all the while holding on to that sound advice from his grandfather. One such trip landed him in Bergen, Norway, where he was giving a lecture. The audience was mainly local lay people. While he was speaking, he noticed that several people had tears in their eyes. He wasn’t sure if his lecture was being translated well and during a break in the session he asked his host, “Did I say something offensive?” “Oh no, not at all!” replied his host. “It’s just that it’s been so long since these people have heard the gospel of Jesus Christ so clearly explained!”

As they approached the ferry landing in Oslo and were about to part company, the woman in all seriousness asked Jim, “So, have you ever been to America then?”

May the legacy of James Arne Nestingen be that he spoke the gospel boldly, clearly, and courageously. Peace be to his memory among us.1

Roy A. Harrisville III, PhD, is a retired NALC/LCMC pastor who has taught New Testament at several institutions and has published two books with a third coming out this year –The Faith of the New Testament: A Pauline Trajectory, Pickwick, 2023. He and his family have been friends of the Nestingens for two generations.

Endnote:

1Thanks to my father, Dr. Roy A. Harrisville and to Rev. Rolf Nestingen for contributing their memories of Jim.

Julie Smith

On a cool spring morning in 1985 I sat next to my two sisters, one cousin, and two other students on the day of our confirmation at Hemnes Lutheran Church. Our pastor had decided that year to reinstate public questioning as part of the confirmation rite. He started with a softball question. “What is the first commandment and its meaning?” We had been doing rather intensive “memory work” from the Bible and the catechism for two years. We were quizzed every week. Prior to that, we had spent years and years in Sunday school memorizing these same words. This shouldn’t be a problem. It was one of the first things we had learned. What a gift this first question was!

My oldest sister was first in line. She recited the commandment perfectly, “I am the Lord your God. You shall have no other gods before me.” But she stumbled on the meaning and the question then came down the line to me. I had already started thinking about the second commandment, assuming my sister would get this one right and the pastor would just go through them in order. So when I had to come up with the meaning to the first commandment, I froze. “We are to fear and love God so that . . .” but nothing more would come out. ALL the meanings started that way, but

I couldn’t come up with where the first one proceeded from there. So, down the line it went to my cousin. “We are to fear, love, and trust God above anything else.” Of course! The first one is different than the rest!

That moment is burned into my memory: the dress I was wearing, the chair I was sitting on, even the tone of my cousin’s voice as she proudly got the right answer. Whether my pastor’s method would meet current “best practices” of pedagogy today, I don’t know. But I can tell you that I have never forgotten that sentence again. Those words are lodged deep within me, and, hopefully, even the ravages of time and age will not be able to remove them. Less than ten years after that torturous confirmation day, I was handed the syllabus for my Lutheran Confessions course at Luther Seminary. It was being team taught by two giants of the faculty, Gerhard Forde and Jim Nestingen. My pastor, whom I trusted despite his terrible idea of questioning us publicly, had told me that I needed to make sure to take as many classes from those two as possible, and this was the first. I glanced at the syllabus, and right there in black and white for God and everyone to see they had written that in order to pass the course we would be expected to recite Luther’s Small Catechism. I was dumbfounded. They could not be serious! How had people gotten through confirmation class, let alone been accepted into seminary, without having already done this?

I had a freshly minted undergraduate degree in Religious

Studies. The religion department faculty, in their wisdom, had a bunch of nineteen-year-olds read Tillich, the Niebuhrs, bits and pieces from the Jesus Seminar, and Luther’s three great treatises. I had written a senior thesis on the Christology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I knew it all. Now, here we were in seminary preparing to become pastors, full of ourselves and our newly discovered calls, and we were going backwards. We were reading a children’s book. And not just reading it, memorizing it – just like kids do! It was the most ridiculous thing I could imagine, and all my suspicions that a seminary education was going to be less rigorous, and certainly less pure and objective, than a “real” graduate school education, were confirmed.

Nestingen and Forde were unapologetic about this requirement, and there were no exceptions. No one had the option of suggesting that their preferred learning style did not include memorization and recitation. No matter the age of the student or the educational background, everyone had to memorize the catechism. Somewhere along the way they shared Luther’s instruction about reading the catechism every day and I thought, “That seems unlikely and certainly unnecessary. Once you’ve learned it, why would you keep plowing this same ground when there is so much more to learn?” The idea of reading and re-reading this simple little book sounded like the kind of thing you just tell people in hopes that they will read it at least once. When it came to the actual assignment, I had a leg up on some of my classmates, having already memorized it once, and taught it to confirmation students during college. I hadn’t

realized how old fashioned my pastor and the pastor at my college church were, until I discovered that many of my classmates hadn’t had to memorize it. Their confirmation instruction had been more focused on relationship building, trying to get teenagers to like church and giving them some tools on how to navigate the moral questions they would face out there in the world. But I was able to check that silly children’s assignment off the list quickly and move on to the more serious work of real theological education.

Over the course of the next twenty-five or thirty years I encountered Jim in a variety of settings - lecturing to groups of clergy, leading adult forums in congregations, teaching seminarians, recording lectures, even designing a Doctor of Ministry program. But it seemed that no matter what the assigned topic might be, we could expect to spend our time with Jim in the catechisms. If he was asked to speak on a moral issue facing the church, he would teach the catechism. If he was asked to teach on prayer, he would teach the catechism, with a little help from the Psalms. If he was asked to offer an insight into any one of the endless conflicts facing the church, he would teach the catechism. And in almost every instance, there would be crazy stories woven into the teaching. It was baffling. He was broadly and deeply read. He was no less nuanced than Forde, who cut with a scalpel, while so many are working with axes. With all the resources of the tradition at his disposal, he kept returning to the catechism.

Nestingen and Forde were unapologetic about [memorizing the Small Catechism], and there were no exceptions.

What a strange and “unserious” pursuit. This was not the work of a real scholar! This was taking the easy road. Or so I thought.

For my part as a parish pastor, I had been teaching the Small Catechism to confirmation students all those years, using Nestingen and Forde’s brilliant Free to Be as a textbook. Every few years I might preach a Lenten series on the catechism. Every fall we would hand out the little orange catechisms to the second graders. Indeed, the catechism had a place of some prominence in the educational work of the churches I served, even if I could never be quite as hard-nosed about memorization as I was expected to be.

Given this emphasis on the Small Catechism, I was always surprised by the struggles that arose in churches around issues that were clearly addressed in that little book. Hadn’t these lifelong Lutherans had to memorize it? Didn’t they know about our call to not hurt our neighbor in any way? Did they really think they had free will? Why did they think we used “holy water” for baptism? And why were their kids going off to college and getting re-baptized at the behest of Cru?

Then one day, not so very long ago, in the midst of COVIDstrife in my congregation, a realization struck me. I had spent nine months out of every year for the past thirty years, teaching the Small Catechism. So for thirty years I was immersed in the language and witness of that little book. But that didn’t seem to be the case for anyone else sitting around the table at church council meetings. Nor was it true of anyone else sitting in front of me on Sunday morning. They had, maybe, memorized the catechism at some point in their lives,

but it hadn’t struck a deep chord. They didn’t recall the details of that book any more than I recall the details of trigonometry. And its ongoing usefulness in their lives of faith seemed to be about the same as the usefulness for trigonometry in my everyday life. And yet this happened in churches which were adamant about a strict memorization policy for their children ― by members who were obviously deeply influenced (at least at some point in their lives) by this little book! It became apparent to me that one brief sermon series a year was insufficient for assuring that the people retained their mothertongue.

But for me, after thirty years of being immersed in that book― coming up with a way to break it up into six little bites to use for a Lenten series, and in teaching first communion classes and preparing parents for baptism ― somewhere along the way, it stopped being a book I had memorized and started to become something I knew by heart. It became the natural, automatic, deep language of faith. It became not only the faith of the church, but my faith, the language of my deepest hope and most enduring peace.

It was like a lightbulb came on and Jim’s lifelong vocation of teaching and preaching the catechism suddenly made sense to me in a way it never had. Far from taking the easy road, sticking with a children’s book when one was a serious scholar took a kind of courage, a kind of faithfulness that is not easy to sustain in a lifetime of teaching. Jim taught the catechism

It was like a lightbulb came on and Jim’s lifelong vocation of teaching and preaching the catechism suddenly made sense to me in a way it never had.

wherever he went in an ongoing effort to return the Lutheran church to its native language. For it is only when we know this Word by heart that we can truly bear witness to the faith that sustains us.

There was no naivete in this commitment to teaching the catechism. It was not driven by some notion that the catechism was the magic bullet that would solve all the problems the church was encountering. It was the recognition that this little book was an outsized gift to the church. It gave us the language and the paradigm for our faith. As Jim put it, “This much is certain: the catechism cannot become a vehicle for the recovery of a lost golden age of Lutheranism. The past wasn’t so golden; now it’s gone. Neither can the catechism be called back on terms of enforcement. That was a failure. If the catechism is to be for this and future generations of Lutherans what it was for those who went before us, it will only be because, as [Gerhard] Frost put it, it has smiled again.”1

The smile of the catechism, the joy it takes in the gospel, the joy it instills in the one who has been grabbed by this promise, was evident in Jim’s teaching of it. He couldn’t help but smile and laugh as he spoke plainly about how the living God has entered into the fray to address the deep darkness in our lives. Even when speaking to matters of deadly seriousness, the smile, whether Jim’s or the catechism’s, could not remain hidden for long. “As stoically responsible as it is about the demands of creatureliness – one of its focal points – it breaks into a smile when it sets out the other: the even deeper and more abiding reality of God’s grace in Christ.”2

The promise that sings through those simple words was

the heart language of Jim’s faith, just as it has become the heart language of so many of his students. This isn’t about memorizing the correct doctrinal formulations. It is about the language of faith, the language of the heart, that sustains our own faith and shapes our witness. “With such use – clarifying and focusing the discussion inside; opening up the Word in terms recognizable to the outside – the catechism may regain something of its hold as a living confession of Lutheranism. But the catechism is more interested in witness than in gaining power, and so it may smile prematurely – just for the sheer joy of being able to say it again, to name the name that is above every other.”3

This isn’t about memorizing the correct doctrinal formulations. It is about the language of faith, the language of the heart, that sustains our own faith and shapes our witness.

“We are to fear, love, and trust God above anything else.” On that Sunday morning in 1985 that was just a sentence in a book that I had been forced to memorize. Nearly forty years later those words dwell so deeply within me that I can scarcely distinguish them from my own words. What had once been (poorly) memorized, I have come to know by heart. And I have come to know something else too: that Jim’s greatest gift to me was an appreciation for the way those words tend to and sustain faith for me and countless others.

Rev.

Julie A. Smith is Coordinator for Districts and Fellowship Groups the Lutheran Congregation in Mission for Christ (LCMC) and is co-founder of St. Paul Lutheran Seminary.

Endnotes:

James A. Nestingen, “Preaching the Catechism.” Word & World 10 no. 1 (Fall 1990): 33.

Ibid., 39.

Ibid., 42.

BOOK REVIEWS

Nestingen, James and Gerhard Forde. Free to Be: A Handbook to Luther’s Small Catechism. Minneapolis, Minnesota: Augsburg Publishing House, 1975.

“God has made a decision about you.” This is the way Forde and Nestingen begin this invaluable resource, Free To Be. Used primarily as a confirmation resource, in truth, this is a theological reference book upon which countless pastors have relied.

It was not surprising or accidental that with these same words, Dr. Steven Paulson began his sermon at Jim Nestingen’s recent funeral: “God has made a decision about you.” I would submit that the source of the quote was easily detected by most who heard it. It is significant that the sermon also ended with the words, “free to be.” Scattered throughout the sermon were recognizable phrases from this classic book. Of all the lectures, publications and books from the late Dr. Jim Nestingen, why would this book receive so much attention?

It is important to reflect on why this might be. First and foremost, it is important to note that Free To Be is “a handbook to Luther’s Small Catechism.” The book is specifically tied to a resource that has shaped Lutheran history and theology. The staying power and influence of Luther’s

Small Catechism cannot be overstated. It would follow that a ‘handbook’ on Luther’s Small Catechism might also have such an impact. Although, by comparison, Free To Be has only served the church a short period of time (nearly a half century), one can imagine the impact of this book remaining strong for years to come for at least two reasons; its accessibility and its relevance. Although designed for readers of confirmation age, Free To Be is accessible to people of all ages. And regardless of age, it strikes a chord of relevance, or better, truth. And here, one must probe deeper as to why this is true.

It would be a monumental task to ferret out, name and document all the theological themes that arise from Luther’s Small Catechism. For the purposes of this review, it seems one could lift two, which fall under Luther’s overarching conviction known as the “bondage of the will.”

Free To Be is accessible and relevant because of two key Lutheran categories that persist throughout the book: the law/gospel distinction and the Word alone.

Luther was adamant that the true preacher and teacher of the Christian faith must be able to distinguish law and gospel. Both the grammar and the functions of law and gospel constantly go to work on sinners of all stripes. How law and gospel affect people who are simul justus et peccator is a thread and theme throughout the book. Whether referencing the “Old Adam/Eve” and the “New Adam/Eve,” or the “two

yous in you,” Forde and Nestingen drive home both the grammar and function of law and gospel on hearers of the Word. Regardless of the content (Ten Commandments, the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer or the Means of Grace), the importance and impact of the law/gospel distinction is driven home for all humanity who have this universal reality of being simul justus et peccator. Free To Be is accessible to all because it names and describes this universal human reality and condition.

One hesitates to even offer up the word ‘relevance’ as a reason for the impact and power of Free To Be. Both Forde and Nestingen are clear in this book and in their faithful witness, that the gospel does not need a new context for a new time to make it “more relevant.” On the contrary, in their life’s witness and in their book, they detest even the hint that the gospel needs to be given relevance in a new context and time in history. After all, the scripture interprets us. Their resistance to any and all attempts to make the gospel “relevant” is simply the flip side of their conviction throughout the book, that the “Word alone” is sufficient. The word “…shall not return, empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in this thing for which I sent it” (Isaiah 55:11). One cannot read Free To Be and not conclude two things about the nature of the Word: 1) The Word of God does not need to be bolstered or propped up or given “relevance” or validity by us or tradition, new teachings, personal charisma, personal

experience or office. It cuts its own course in the world and in the believer’s life, and 2) All attempts to “prop the Word up” or “make it more relevant” are the work of our great enemies, “sin, death and the devil.” The reason why the book is relevant is because it speaks to the timeless truth of the Word’s power to create life, the Church and faith itself.

All of this might explain why this catechetical resource reads more like a sermon than a theological reference book. This is to say, much like a Forde or Nestingen lecture, each chapter ends in some form of proclamation. One should not be surprised by this. Both men confessed that “theology is for proclamation.” Free To Be bears witness to this conviction. It is what makes it a timeless theological resource like none other.

The book ends as it begins. “God gives us all that we need: his Word, the sacraments, and the company of others. They are gifts. It’s for certain. It’s his promise. He’s decided. He keeps his word” (p. 205). Because God is going to make us who we are intended to be, we have a new identity, given to us in the promises of baptism. “We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in the newness of life” (Romans 6:4). In other words, “God has made a decision about you.” Here, true freedom begins.

All attempts to “prop the Word up” or “make it more relevant” is the work of our great enemies, “sin, death and the devil.”

Pastor Freund serves as Service Coordinator for the Augustana District, LCMC. He has been parish pastor for 36 years, serving congregations in Madison, MN, Marshall, MN, Hutchinson, MN, Fargo, ND and Perham, MN. He currently resides outside of Vining, MN with his wife, Stephanie.

Image Credits

(Page 1 and 3) “Jim in Bergen,” courtesy of Jarle Blindheim

(Page 5) “Flag of India,”, accessed Dec. 15, 2022, https://www.amazon.com/India-3ft-PrintedPolyester-Flag/dp/B0006HDI4M/ref=asc_df_B0006HDI4M?tag=bingshoppinga20&linkCode=df0&hvadid=79852084166473&hvnetw=o&hvqmt=e&hvbmt=be&hvdev=c&hvlocin t=&hvlocphy=&hvtargid=pla-4583451663020073&psc=1

(Page 7) “Nestingen and Pless in Wittenberg, 2017,” courtesy of Jarle Blindheim

(Page 9) “Nestingen, Pless and Blindheim in Wittenberg, 2017,” courtesy of Jarle Blindheim

(Page 10) “Nestingen, Bradosky, Wendel and Chavez in Wittenberg, 2017,” courtesy of Jarle Blindheim

(Page 14) “Zachary’s Baptism,” courtesy of Marney Fritts

(Page 17) “Jim Nestingen and Oswald Bayer,” courtesy of Jeffrey Goodman

(Page 22) “At Ede’s Ordination,” courtesy of Tony Ede

(Page 24) “Jim Netingen and Tony Ede,” courtesy of Tony Ede

(Page 26) “Nestingen, Pless, Paulson, Hein, and Mattes” courtesy of John Pless

(Page 33) “Nestingen Teaching,” accessed March 20, 2023, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvg9f_B0vYQ

(Page 36) “Jim and Carolyn Fjord Cruising, 2015,” courtesy of Jarle Blindheim

(Page 41) “At the 2017 Lutheran Week,” accessed March 20, 2023, https://thenalc.org/2017/08/11/thursday-of-lutheran-week-2017/

(Page 44) “Road Trip 2015,” courtesy of Jarle Blindheim

(Page 46) “University of St. Michael's College of the University of Toronto,” accessed March 20, 2023, https://stmikes.utoronto.ca/

(Page 51) “Jim and Julie Smith,” courtesy of Mark Ryman

(Page 59) “In Memory of Dr. James Arne Nestingen,” accessed March 20, 2023, https://thenalc.org/gallery/in-memory-of-the-rev-dr-james-arne-nestingen/

(Page 60) “Free to Be,” Internet Archive, accessed March 20, 2023, https://archive.org/details/freetobehandbook00nest

(Page 65) “Jim Nestingen in Bergen, 2016,” courtesy of Jarle Blindheim

“God gives us all that we need: his Word, the sacraments, and the company of others. They are gifts. It’s for certain. It’s his promise. He’s decided. He keeps his word” (Free to Be: A

Handbook to Luther’s Small Catechism, p. 205).