The Park Road Pulpit
Sermons from Park Road Baptist Church
Russ and Amy Jacks Dean, Pastors
The Word of Hope
A Gathering for Prayer and Silence
Russ Dean, March 20, 2003
My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing. James 1.2-4
I have been raised in a culture of war. I cut my teeth in school over the noise of all the fighting. I learned all of my politics and most of my religion on the front line of “the enemy.”
Oh, I have never worn a uniform, marched with a firearm, heard the sound or felt the shock of a single ordnance – but I have known the destructive and divisive power of words. In the political and religious climate that has shadowed most of my life, there is no De-Militarized-Zone -- only “our side” and “theirs.” Only “right and “wrong.” “Left” and “right.” “Liberal” and “conservative.” “Democrat” and “Republican.” “Good” and “bad.” When we were in school, seminary professors had their lectures taped by “spies” from the other side, hoping to catch them in just, one, word. Many a Baptist preacher has lost his job in the last two decades – over something he said.
How could a word hold such power?
I can still hear the muffled agony that ran through the crowd at Crescent Hill Baptist Church that Wednesday night in 1991 when the words, “We are at war” were spoken. It was the first time I had ever heard such a sound. And that shock echoed through me again last night, while I sat with Amy in our den. It was 10:15 p.m. Eastern Standard Time and most of the United States was watching with us when the President addressed the nation. “War.” It is the worst word I know.
Almost.
The writer of the brief book of James encourages his congregation. Consider every trial pure joy. What an optimist! Testing, however it may come, he says, will mature our faith until we lack nothing.
Maybe.
We are facing a trial. War is a trial, at home and abroad. And this War, with its diplomatic prelude which literally divided the world (because of words) “for us” and “against us,” this War, with its overtones of “holy war” and “jihad,” (just yesterday, I heard Bush and Hussein, both, claim God in their defense), this War with the accompanying threat of global terrorism, threatens to undo us all. Nothing frightens me like war.
Almost.
You know how I feel about this war. But there is nothing I can do about this war. So, we have not gathered, in order to end this war – as much as I hope we all want that. We have gathered in silence and prayer because members of the community of faith need each other in times of trial. What will we say in such times? We hardly know, so we gather in silence and prayer because members of the community of faith need each other in times of trial. You and I have no power over Saddam Hussein. We cannot control fanatical terrorists. You and I cannot effect change in anyone’s possession of weapons of mass destruction. We cannot contain or suicide bombers.
But we do have control over our own words.
What frightens me more than war? This thought: That good people might quit loving each other because they disagree about politics. That good people might begin to feel alienated from one another because of differences in religious belief. That good people, with our words, like weapons of war, we might wound one another, in a time such as this, in which what we all most need is comfort, encouragement, security, belonging, In a word… love.
We are facing a trial. And whether this war lasts two more days or two more years, this sanctuary must to be a safe place. A place of gathering and comfort. A place of sharing and care. A place of discussion and discernment. A place of silence and prayer. And this must be a place where words are spoken, only in love, that our words, might be generous words, words which might always be used build each other up.
Only so will this trial make our faith mature and complete.
May it be so!