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When I taught at the remarkable World Journalism Institute a few years ago, I routinely asked students at the beginning of a new class: "What do you think is the calling of a Christian in secular media?" Inevitably, several young men and women would reply, "To report the news from God's perspective."

Right? Wrong. It would be great if we knew God's cell number to ask him, "Lord, what are your views on immigration and social security?" Alas, we don't have this option. Thus from a Lutheran perspective, the proper response to the question about a Christian journalist's vocation must be: "I am called to report as fairly and as accurately as humanly possible. If I do this as a service of love to my readers and viewers, rather than with selfish interests in mind, I will render the highest possible service to God."

Luther would say that when Christians in secular journalism serve their readers and viewers altruistically, they prove themselves members of the universal priesthood of believers. A reporter on the police beat does not have the divine assignment to "share the gospel" with cops rushing out to arrest a mugger; indeed, trying to share the gospel with them would seem foolish when officers perform their own priestly function by nabbing criminals.

"Each one should retain the place in life that the Lord assigned to him and to which God has called him," writes the apostle Paul (1 Cor. 7:17). In our context, this means that a reporter does not have a calling to be a preacher, even though he or she might be a devout Christian. It also means that a journalist's vocation must not be confused with that of a prosecutor or a lobbyist, two self-aggrandizing roles many contemporary journalists slip into (which is one reason the media are so disliked).

Lutherans thrive on contradictions, and the doctrine of vocation is another example of this verity. Non-Lutherans might ask, "What do you mean calling me a Christian priest on the condition that I do not spread God's Word at work? Why call me a priest if all you want me to do is write or bake bread or pilot an airplane or serve a thirsty man a glass of beer in a bar? What's so priestly about that? You want me to be a Christian by not being a Christian?"

It's impossible to understand Lutheran teachings on vocation and their immense significance for our time without knowing the "two kingdoms" doctrine, which even many Lutherans struggle to appreciate, though it is a keystone of their theology. In a nutshell, this doctrine says that every Christian has "dual citizenship."

On one hand, a Christian lives in the spiritual "kingdom to the right." This is the redeemed realm of Christ, the gospel, and the church. Here we are forgiven sinners. Here we remain inactive, resting and feasting with God and freely receiving his grace because here he has revealed himself to us in Jesus. This realm is infinite. It will ultimately be glorified in the kingdom of God.

On the other hand, Christians live out their biological lives in the finite "left-hand kingdom"—their secular reality. It too is God's realm, and must therefore never be disparaged. But here God conducts a masquerade, governing in a hidden way through worldly rulers who are his "masks," as Luther said. This realm, which will disappear at the end of time, is under the law; its operating system is natural reason—a gift from God enabling us to find our way around this place. Reason, not the gospel, can tell us how to bake bread, fix someone's plumbing, or cover a court case.

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November 2007, Vol. 51, No. 11