The Eyes of the One-hundred, HOPE

 

Back when I was in college, Vicky Fought, my English teacher, passed out a story that she had found in a magazine.  I lost my copy of that story, but I’ve never forgotten the gist of it.  One of the goals of my ministry has been to remember the lesson of this story. I wanted to put some present-day flesh and skin on those fifty-year-old bones and share that story, so I wrote the following, trying to preserve the gist of the story that profoundly moved me, half-a-century ago. I share it with you today. If anybody recognizes it and has the original, I'd love to see it.

Behold a preacher ascended to his pulpit and looked out on his congregation.  Two-hundred eyes looked up at him, and in the eyes of the One-hundred could be seen the eyes of the world. 

Quarantine Epistle #4:

 Kathy and I returned back to our apartment on the PIU campus, Monday night. It is good to be back home, but  . . . I'll get back to the "but" in a moment. Let me explore the good. Let me make clear, for any watchers, that we are making a good faith effort to abide by the quarantine requirements. We aren't COVID Pharisees, though. We have talked to a very few people just outside our door, masked up and six feet apart. Two little girls told Kathy they had cared for her flowers while we were away. One of my colleagues brought us a lunch plate from a meeting that went on yesterday, and then again, today lunch was brought by a friend. Our neighbor went to the grocery store for us, and this afternoon another coworker brought our mail. It has helped me realize just how much little acts of kindness mean--a lot. We enjoy our home, and we certainly enjoy one another. Thank you, Lord.

My Heart is Sad, but I Offer a Word of Hope:

 This morning--I am back where America's day begins--the keyhole through which I view the world is narrower than usual. Kathy and I just returned to Guam, from a wonderful Christmas break. The rules in Guam require us to serve a week quarantine in a hotel room. We haven't been out of the room since we arrived Monday night.

I woke up early and saw online about the troubles in Washington DC. Right now we are watching the scene unfold on a news channel. I'm heartbroken. I'm not about to pose as an expert on the constitution or a particularly well-informed political analyst, but when I see protestors sitting at the Speaker of the House's office, and another at one of the official seats of power, and hear news of someone being shot in this riot, I know beyond any doubt that this is wrong, very wrong.

There is a significant confluence of thoughts in my mind:

On a number of occasions over my near half-century of ministry, I have spoken of one of the great virtues of American politics--the peaceful transfer of power from one administration to another. I contrasted the American way with what was common practice in much of the world--elections were followed by riots, violence, mayhem, and sometimes coups that led to military rule. Now I see this being played out in the capital of my country. I am sad. My heart is broken not only by the violence that I see but by the polarization and ugliness that has ramped up to what I'm seeing now. I share the sadness being expressed by President-Elect Bidden that he is sharing as I write.

Before I saw the news on the violence in Washington DC, I was working on a class that I'll be teaching in a couple of weeks. I read the first chapter in Bill Hybels's book, Courageous Leadership. In the opening chapter of this excellent book, former pastor, Hybels reacting to scenes of violence at Ground Zero after 9/11, and another that unfolded between two brothers, proclaimed that, "The church is the hope of the world!" (28) I have often said, "Amen!" to those words and that sentiment.

There are many reasons behind the horrible scene unfolding in the Capitol. Dig in that pile a bit and you will find misplaced hope. The church, which should be, as the late Chuck Colson so often articulated, "the conscience of the nation," has failed in that role. We have too often failed in that role because we have traded our God-empowered heritage for a bowl of political pottage. The power of the church does not come from cunning political alignments. It resides in the reality of the life-changing Gospel. It changes the hearts of terrorists, be they little boys or hardened criminals. It gives a hope that is sure and not dependent on the next election or appointment to the Supreme Court. Its power is the same dynamic that brought a crucified Savior back to life after a horrible death. It is the power that toppled the greatest force on earth at the time--the Roman Empire. 

That power was at first placed in the hands of twelve men described by one group biographer as a "rather ragged aggregate of humanity." As one who has inherited that trust of the Gospel, I can assure you that the leaders of the church today are no less ragged. To those who, like me, can call themselves ministers of the Gospel, I remind us that our power is not political or organizational. It comes from a heart of purity devoted to the cause of Christ. I am saddened to know that Bill Hybels will not among those of us who call for prayer, resolve, and Godly action in this time of turmoil. Hybels, by his moral failure, forfeited his place of leadership in the church. Yet even in his failure he offers a challenge. Brothers and Sisters in Christ, the power of the Gospel does not lie in politics or organization, or even human skill. It resides in a message that is backed by a changed life. One of those original ragged individuals said it well.

 But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, 16 keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander. 17 For it is better, if it is God’s will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil. 18 For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God. He was put to death in the body but made alive in the Spirit.

The New International Version. (2011). (1 Pe 3:15–18). Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.