Shaking the Foundations

Two years ago, I began my preaching through the Epistle to the Philippians with this quote from the noted novelist Silas House. “Kentucky novelist Silas House has written a disturbing depiction of one possible future of our planet. Lark Ascending describes the journey of a young man (Lark), a dog (Seamus), and a woman (Helen) as they walk across Ireland, seeking safety from the violence and danger of a collapsed civilization. It is a dystopian vision of our future. Global warming has fueled fires around the world. What House calls “fundies” have taken over America—we might know these as Christian Nationalists. Dissent is suppressed by authoritarian governments, freedom is gone, and flight is the only option for those who do not abide by the religious and political values of the new overlords. Their journey is an arduous one, but it leads them to the once-Benedictine community that has survived the brutality and maintained the practices of hospitality and compassion.” You say to me, that could never happen. Back in 1979, these Christian Nationalists announced they were going to take over the Southern Baptist Convention, and we said it would never happen. But it did. Sometime later, they announced they were going to take over the Republican Party; and we thought it could not happen. But it did. In 2016, their candidate ran for the White House, and we thought, it will never happen. But it did. For 50 years, Christian Nationalist have been yearning to take over the Supreme Court, and we thought it could not happen. But it did, with six right wing Catholic justices upending American law and practice. The foundations of our nation are shaking. Things will not be the same. We all have been watching the precipitous decline in church affiliation and attendance. For the first time in U S history, less than half of the population is affiliated with a Christian church. Tik Tok and other social media platforms confirm this trend with hundreds of testimonies of people leaving. The newest book to fall off the press is We Have Ruined God, yet another testimony of somebody leaving the church and denouncing what the church has become. Down the road from us, this week, what’s left of the United Methodist Church gathered to forge a way forward, after 25% of their churches quit, mostly citing LGBTQ concerns. The week before, over in Raleigh, the third annual Post-Evangelical Collective met, gathering people leaving church in disgust but looking for a better place. The foundations of our religion are shaking. Things will not be the same. Around the world, things are shaking. The great Russian bear roared out of hibernation and is seeking to devour Ukraine. In the Middle East, Israel has abandoned all moral discernment and is consumed by revenge. They have killed 34,000 people, mostly women and children, and destroyed 120,000 buildings and homes. Things are shaking in the Middle East. Pirates are tracking international shipping in the straights of Hormoz, refugees are fleeing Latin America by the hundreds of thousands, tribal warfare is a constant danger in Africa, and everywhere climate drama is playing out with a ferocity we have never seen: fires in California, tornadoes in Nebraska, and wind and waves all along the East Coast: rising temperatures, rising sea levels, rising danger. The foundations of the international order are shaking. Things will not be the same. Things here are our own church are not so secure either. For two years, we have run on a deficit budget and last week only 19 people showed up for worship. We took out six long pews and it still looks sparce. Every year more than 4,000 churches in the United States close their doors, sell their buildings, and give up. We said it could not happen. But it might, because the foundations of our church, Providence Baptist, are shaking, are uncertain, are tenuous. I When things shake, we start looking for a safe place, for solid ground, for something secure, something to hold on to, something strong, and enduring. We find ourselves standing right beside those very first followers of Jesus. Things are shaking, the apostles wrote to them in a letter of warning and encouragement. Remember: things were shaking when God led the slaves out of Egypt, across the desert, to Sinai, where God created a nation with a great destiny. Things were shaking when God sent a good word to Zerubbable the governor, Haggai the prophet, and Joshua the priest: “In a little while I will shake the heavens and the earth,” and good things will happen. Things were shaking when Roman soldiers nailed Jesus the Lord to a cross and buried him in a borrow grave, hoping to crush the revival movement he led. One apostle wrote to them this word, “Once more, I will shake the heavens and the earth so you will see the difference between what is temporary and what is eternal.” Then another apostle wrote those hesitant and hurting disciples, with no buildings and no clergy, no bank accounts and no distribution lists, no colleges and no hospitals: “Now there remains, amidst all this shaking, faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” Now there remains, while other things are falling apart and giving ground, three things, three great gifts from God, three ways the Holy Spirit is present among us and in us and through us, three virtues that we saw in Jesus of Nazareth: faith, hope, and love. How can faith, hope, and love sustain us when things are shaking? II Let’s start with faith. Go your way, Jesus said to the woman, your faith has saved you. Later, the apostle wrote, “It is by the grace of God you have been saved amidst the crumbling of the foundations. It is through faith, and this gift is not from yourselves; it is the gift of God. It is not by your works, your energy, your efforts, your infrastructure so susceptible to the shaking: it is the gift of God.”  That is paraphrased, of course. The country, the world, the church, even Providence is changing, and I will speak more about that next week, when I take up hope as the gift of God. But today, I want to speak a good word about faith. I want to speak some gospel into your soul today about the public side of faith and also the private side of faith. I want to speak first about the community of faith, which is the public side of faith; and then I want to speak about your confession of faith, which is the personal side of faith. In times of shaking, we need a community of people; we need family and friends and believers who will sing with us, and pray with us, and respond to crises, and hope with us. The circle of believing friends is our refuge when the foundations are shaking. We need each other. Many years ago, I took my young boys to Washington DC. We were living in Pittsburgh. Then and now, that is less than four hours drive time. I wanted the boys, perhaps 10 and 12, to hear the great evangelist. The crusade, as he called it then, was inside. It was program as usual: music, choir, testimonies, and such. Mr. Graham preached from the Psalms: 102:6. “I am like a pelican in the wilderness, I am like an owl in the desert.” A pelican is out of place in a wilderness; an owl is likewise isolated in a desert. He preached on loneliness. “It is the number one problem on campus,” he said. This past Monday, I spent 2.5 hours listening to the oral arguments at the Supreme Court on this question: can a city criminalize people sleeping in public if they have nowhere to go. We won’t know the answer of the Supreme Court until June, but yesterday, the governor of Oklahoma signed a bill doing just that: you homeless people, you sleep in public, we will cite you, fine you, and take you to jail. Last Sunday, five of you attended the launch party of the Engage WNC. Once again, people are organizing to address homelessness. They distributed printed material that quotes the Surgeon General of the United States: “Social isolation and loneliness are a critical health concern in light of the mounting evidence that millions of Americans lack adequate social connection in one or more ways. Loneliness and social isolation increase the risk for premature death is associated with increased risk of disease and for anxiety, depression, and dementia.” The gift of faith is the gift of a faith community. Faith is God’s good gift to you in and through that community that honors Jesus as the messenger of God, that follows Jesus as friend of sinners and teacher of all, that celebrates Jesus as Risen Lord, that proclaims Jesus as savior. Faith is not an abstract, intangible gift; faith is the right hand of fellowship with others who need you, who need God, who need prayer, who need help, who need to sing for joy and live with hope. We first encounter Jesus among people who already connect to God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit. We stay connected to Jesus as we stay connected to a gathering of people who trust Jesus as savior and follow Jesus as lord. When the foundations start to shake, you need people who will grab yo, and hold you, and keep you steady. When the foundations start to shake, you need people who will pray for you and with you. When the foundations of your life are shaking—your health, your career, your family—you need some space where things are not shaking, where trust and peace prevail, where Jesus comes to say, “Peace, be still.” You are here today because God brought you here. God led you to this congregation. God inspired you to get up and come to church today. God knows you need this community of faith. God knows this community of faith needs you. III. Faith, hope, and love—these things remain, but the greatest of these is love. There is a community of faith for you here, but there is also a confession of faith. The community of faith is public, visible, all around you. This is a gift from God. But the confession of faith is private, invisible, deep inside of you. Only you can make the good confession. This is something between you and God.  Yes, others may help you: a parent, a pastor, a good friend. This week, I watched the film “Freud’s Last Session.” It is an imaginary meeting between the famous psychoanalyst from Viena and the younger but equally famous scholar from Belfast, C. S. Lewis. It was pure fiction, set in 1939 in London. But one flashback featured the memorable night when the unbelieving Lewis took a long walk with the devout J R R Tolkien. At Oxford University where they were both professors. They talked myth, and story, and faith. Later, in his autobiography, Lewis described how this midnight conversation with his friend prompted his conversion. “In the trinity term of 1929, I gave in and admitted that God was God. I knelt beside my bed and prayed, perhaps, that night the most dejected and reluctant convert in all England.” By grace you are saved, through faith; and that faith is the gift of God. Cry out to God today, “Lord, I believe,” one man said after encountering Jesus, then he added, “but help my unbelief.” Like Lewis, we all have that mixture of faith and doubt, confidence and uncertainty, virtue and vice, strength and weakness. But we can all have Jesus: Jesus the teacher, the healer; the crucified, the wounded; Jesus the Risen Lord and redeemer. Yes, we need what is around us: friends, family, and the community of faith, but we also need what is inside us—trust in the living and everlasting God, openness to the holy spirit of God, and faith in the living son of God—Jesus the Lord.