Sunday Sermon Snippet 09.14
“if you will carefully listen to me and keep my covenant” Exodus 19:5
After a one-week hiatus — because we were on vacation — this week’s weekly posting of the Sunday Sermon Snippet is back. And it comes from yesterday’s sermon on Exodus 19, entitled, “Hope For A Broken Nation.”
In this sermon we learn, once again, that God’s word applies — at just the right time — to all of life, as we experience the sweet providence that Exodus 19 (where we found ourselves in our series on Exodus) is just the text we needed after a difficult week for our nation.
If you’d like to check out the whole sermon, just click here.
A Nation That Is Broken
There are times when a singular event crystallizes something in a culture, among a people, for a nation. A hinge point. And no matter what your political inclinations or views may be, and while I want to be careful, for I do not want to make it appear that one person’s death is somehow more tragic than another’s — as we are all made in the image of God, and of equal value and worth in his sight — the assassination of Charlie Kirk on Wednesday is one of those singular events. It has brought about a national convulsion and self-reflection, everyone feeling like it will continue to reverberate in ominous and dark ways.
I was particularly struck by the haunting words of Utah’s governor in the immediate aftermath of the shooting: “We are a nation that is broken. There is nothing I can say that can unite us as a country. Nothing I can say right now that can fix what is broken.”
Susan and I have been talking about this for months, actually; those are words we’ve used: “we’re broken.” So many in our country I think have been talking around the edges of it when we lament our political, cultural, and ideological divisions, and the shocking lack of civility and charity that marks our national discourse.
And what has been so deeply disturbing is the rising intensity of our division and conflict — at the highest levels of authority, and among the most ordinary of our citizens — shot through with an evermore present violence and brutality, evil and wickedness. We have watched in horror as a parade of stories marches across our national landscape:
the brutal slaying of two young embassy staff members outside the Capital Jewish Museum in Washington D.C.
the assassination of two Minnesota lawmakers in their homes
the attempted assassination, twice, of our President
the barbaric murder of a 23 year-old Ukrainian woman in Charlotte, North Carolina who had previously been living in a bomb shelter in Ukraine and had emigrated here for a safer life, only to be stabbed to death on light-rail while onlookers recorded it on their phones
the shooting of innocent children at Annunciation School in Minnesota
the shooting that also happened on Wednesday, much closer to home, at Evergreen High School…and on, and on…
And now this. A 31 year-old father and husband assassinated in the act of boldly defending the very idea of lively but civil, respectful, and charitable discourse. And here is why I think, along with so many others, why I believe this was a hinge point — because of what I’ve heard in people’s voices and seen in their eyes. And it feels like it is pushing us over a precipice and into an abyss. It appears that we are a nation trying its best to tear itself apart; at war with itself, on itself. A broken nation.
The Speaker of the U.S. House Of Representatives said on Wednesday: “This is not who we are.”
But, Mr. Speaker, I must respectfully disagree. For I believe the reason the people of this nation have been shaken in a new way is because this is, horrifyingly, exactly who we are. This is who we have become. We are no longer the united states of America. And the question I’ve heard so many asking, in a more sobering way than I’ve seen before, is: “What do we do about it?”
That’s the question, isn't it? How do you fix a culture so seemingly lost, adrift, and broken, shot through with evil, sin, and wickedness?
I don’t often watch the news, but in times like these I do. And as I took in some of the coverage on Wednesday I viewed one news anchor interviewing some expert — I don’t recall his field — about the shooting. And he asked this expert: “Do you have any hope (note that, hope) that we can change? That this act of violence will somehow be the last straw, and we will turn things around?”
And with a look of resignation, and it appeared like even sadness, this expert responded, “I just don’t know. After this happened to Donald Trump (of course, he wasn’t killed), you know, there were all these cries that we have to change as a culture. That who we are and how we act had lead us to such a point, and has to change. But after a week or so, everyone went back to acting as they always had. So I don’t know. I just don’t know that I have any hope for us after this.”
OK, so, brothers and sisters, followers of Jesus, believers in God: “What do we do about it?”
Or to emphasize a different word in that sentence: “What do we do about it?”
Each of you here is a citizen of this shaken states of America. But more importantly, you are also strangers and aliens, exiles in this earthly realm that are to abstain from the kinds of sinful desires all around us that wage war against the soul (1Pet2:11); you are citizens of a kingdom that cannot be shaken (Heb12:28), a kingdom Jesus told us is not of this world (Jn18:36).
And a big part of why we gather together every Sunday morning is to be reminded of that, to have our fuel cells of hope get refilled, to get oriented once again — in such a disoriented nation, in such a broken nation — to get anchored again, in such a nation adrift, to the one who is the anchor of our souls — our sure and certain hope, Jesus, the Messiah (Heb6:19). And all of that, so that we are ready, should we be sitting on a news program, and a news anchor asks us if there is any hope that we can change, well, we’ll be ready to give a defense — as Charlie did so often, boldly, joyfully, courageously — an explanation, a proclamation — to elaborate upon all the reasons that we have for the hope that resides within us, to do so not with division and rancor and yelling, but with gentleness and reverence and good conduct (1Pet3:15-16).
Because, family, you may not get on a national TV interview, but your neighbor will ask this. Your co-workers are talking about this. Your family and friends are texting about it. I’ve heard tough, stoic men express sadness. I’ve listened to women struggling to process their broken-heartedness. I’ve seen fear in people’s eyes as they wonder aloud if their country is falling apart. What we are experiencing over the last few days is a people, a nation, collectively asking, in this national moment, “What is wrong with us?” and “What do we do about it?” I’ve seen people shaken, wondering, in response to those governor’s words, “How do we fix what is broken?”
I am not a politician. I am not a worker in government. I know that the answer to that question raises a host of complexities. But I am a pastor and a minister of the Good News of a Messiah who is also a King, whose name is Jesus. And so it is that I know that no party or platform alone will fix this broken nation. But I know what will — my answer, and our answer, must be, “Repent, and believe in Jesus. And then live a life of obedience to him, and his teachings, his law, and his way of life. And over time — and it may take a long time — that will heal a broken nation.”
As Peter Enns has said in the face of a different tragedy in his own community, “If the Good News works at all, it must work here, when we stand as it were on the edge of the universe, looking out into complete darkness and hopelessness. If the Good News means anything, it must show here — or nowhere at all.”
