Most people associate October 31 with costumes and shadows. But in Christian history, this date marks two profound turning points—moments when God shook both conscience and creation to awaken His people. Nearly 250 years apart, one moment came through the pounding of a hammer, the other through the groaning of the earth. Together, they form a striking call to every believer living in the last days.
1517 — When a Hammer Broke the Silence
Imagine a monk climbing a staircase on his knees, each painful step meant to earn favor with God. Martin Luther believed this was what salvation required. But partway up Rome’s “holy stairs,” a verse he already knew suddenly thundered through him like a divine interruption:
“The just shall live by faith.” —Romans 1:17; Habakkuk 2:4
Not by penance.
Not by merit.
Not by purchasing forgiveness.
By faith.
He rose to his feet—shaken, ashamed, yet awakened. Heaven had broken into the labyrinth of human tradition.
As Luther immersed himself in Scripture, unseen angels steadied him. The gospel began unfolding with clarity and conviction. He saw that forgiveness could not be bought, and that no human being or church had authority to sell what Christ had already paid for with His own blood.
At that time, many were being told that if they paid money for official documents called indulgences, their sins—past, present, and even future—would be pardoned. Repentance and heart change were often pushed aside. People could go on in sin, yet feel “covered” because they had paid a price.
But Jesus’ words still stood:
“Go, and sin no more.” —John 8:11
Sin requires repentance.
Repentance leads to transformation.
Salvation flows from Christ—not from a church treasury.
Burdened by what he saw, Luther prepared a list of statements—questions and challenges—designed to test the practice of indulgences by the Word of God. These were called theses. On October 31, 1517, he walked to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany, and nailed up his document: Ninety-Five Theses.
It was a public invitation:
“Let us discuss these things in the light of Scripture.”
That hammer did more than strike wood.
It shattered chains.
Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses confronted a system that claimed forgiveness could be bought, that repentance was optional, and that human authority could replace divine truth. As the printing press quickly spread his words, people all across Europe began reading the Bible for themselves. The Reformation freed believers from superstition and reminded them that the Bible—not tradition, not councils, not indulgences—must be the foundation of faith.
But here is a truth sometimes forgotten:
The Reformation was never meant to be completed in one century. It was meant to continue.
Christ promised:
“He will guide you into all truth.” —John 16:13
Truth is progressive—unfolding, restoring, illuminating.
History shows a pattern: whenever God brings forgotten truth back to light…
- Scripture becomes central again.
- Traditions are tested by the Word.
- Pressure mounts from society and religious systems.
- God raises faithful voices to stand.
- The gospel shines brighter than before.
Luther rediscovered justification by faith.
Others restored access to Scripture.
Others revived evangelism, holiness, and the hope of Christ’s return.
And today the Holy Spirit still calls the church to reform—not once, but continually. Not merely in doctrine, but in heart. Every generation must answer:
Am I still reforming?
Am I willing to follow truth wherever God leads?
Am I willing to stand on Scripture when culture demands compromise?
Am I willing to let the Word correct me, reshape me, and lead me nearer to Christ?
Truth was never meant to be defended only by Luther. It was meant to be rediscovered by us.
1755 — When the Earth Preached a Sermon
Three centuries later, on October 31, 1755, creation itself began to stir.
Strange signs appeared across Lisbon: worms rising from the soil, rabbits fleeing their burrows, fountains drying unexpectedly.
It was as though nature sensed something coming.
The following morning—a religious festival day—churches were packed. Many came for social amusement, not spiritual repentance. Sacred spaces were filled with laughter, flirtation, feasting, and distraction—a vivid picture of what Scripture calls:
“Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.” —2 Timothy 3:5
Then, at 9:40 a.m., the earth convulsed.
An earthquake—estimated at 8.5 on the Richter scale—shattered Lisbon.
Streets collapsed. Cathedrals crumbled. Thousands perished in moments. Those who fled falling stone met advancing flames. A firestorm raged for three days.
Survivors escaping toward the harbor watched the sea pull violently back—only to return in a towering 40-foot tsunami, sweeping thousands more to their deaths. Estimates range from 60,000 to over 100,000 lives lost. One witness described the ruins as: “hills and mountains still smoking.”
For many Christians, the Lisbon earthquake was unmistakable: the very earthquake foretold in Revelation 6:12 as one of the prophetic signs preceding Christ’s return.
William Shea summarized it this way: the geography, sequence, and timing of these events make Lisbon unique among earthquakes in history, especially when viewed alongside the other prophetic signs that followed.
But beyond the historical and prophetic significance lies a spiritual message often missed: Lisbon was the earth crying out.
“For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.” —Romans 8:22
It was a trembling reminder that the world we cling to is temporary—fragile, passing, unable to hold the weight of our hope.
Yet Christ’s counsel in Luke 21 does not say, “When these things come to pass, be afraid.”
Instead:
“And when these things begin to come to pass, then look up, and lift up your heads; for your redemption draweth nigh.” —Luke 21:28
Prophetic signs are not given to terrify the believer. They are given to reorient the heart—to loosen our grip on the temporary and fasten our hope to the eternal.
Two Events, One Divine Invitation. Luther’s hammer awakened the conscience. Lisbon’s earthquake awakened the world.
One broke the silence of human tradition. The other broke the illusion of earthly security. Together they form one message from God:
Return.
Reform.
Awaken.
Look up.
October 31 is not merely a curious moment in Christian history.
It is a line drawn by God across the centuries—a reminder that truth must be rediscovered continually, that the world is not our anchor, and that Christ is nearer than when we first believed.
This world groans.
Scripture calls.
Prophecy unfolds.
And the Spirit still whispers:
“Be strong… for I am with you.” —Haggai 2:4
“Walk while ye have the light.” —John 12:35
“Look up… your redemption draweth nigh.” —Luke 21:28
Now is the time to anchor deeply in Christ.
Now is the time to live awake.
Now is the time to let the Word shape us again.
Because the story of October 31 is not ultimately about a monk or a city—but about a God who still calls His people to stand in the light when the world grows dim.
As you dig into today’s Study Notes, remember: “This book of the law shall not depart out of thy mouth… for then thou shalt make thy way prosperous” (Joshua 1:8). If you’d like practical help to keep Scripture alive…
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