Good morning church family,
Were I pastoring in New Hampshire when it was a colony of the British Empire and not yet a state in the American Republic, I wonder if I would have used my pastoral position and spiritual influence to encourage revolution. It’s a vexing question. With militias mustering all about, talk of war being heard along every hedgerow, and signatures being added daily to the newly written Declaration of Independence – would I, seeing the hand of God in the opportunity the colonials were being given to cross the Jordan, as it were, and realize the dream of their pilgrim forebears, advocated for rebellion or would I have stood behind the pulpit on Sunday morning and, citing Romans 13, encouraged submission to the crown and fidelity to Buckingham Palace? It’s a quandary I’ve wrestled with for years. It’s hard to imagine that I would have lent the imprimatur of Heaven to “Live free or die!” but, then again, the world had never seen a government with a greater biblical prospect than the one being drawn up in Philadelphia. Whatever the case, I know I couldn’t have remained silent. I would have had to say something.
One of my favorite places in all the world is St. Paul’s Church, located in downtown Augusta, Georgia. For the nine years I spent pastoring in that city, it was an odd week that I didn’t travel at least once to its lovely little campus on the Savannah River. When the weather was nice, I’d sit on one of the benches in the churches front yard and read and write under the shadow of the bell tower above. When a choking heat sat heavy on the city, I’d move inside to the large, cool sanctuary that remained open most hours of the day. I’d sit in the quiet and study under the amber light that filtered through the beautiful stained glass. I could go on for quite some time about the historical significance of the church building and about the signer of the Constitution who lay buried in its courtyard. I could share about the priceless art that hung on its walls, the famous pipe organ that filled its apse, and how I proposed to Lisa near its altar one September morning in 2010. But, instead, I just want to mention the flags that flew above the church’s entryway.
Unfurled on poles extending out from below the balcony at the rear of the sanctuary were all the flags that had flown over the property since the church’s founding. I remember there being a Spanish flag and a French flag. There were also various colonial flags, a British flag and, of course, Old Glory herself. I often pondered on the fact that the believers who’d gathered on those grounds for the last three hundred years had done so as citizens of countries, colonies, and empires with vastly different philosophies of government and as Christians who were subject to authorities whose rule was defined by all manner of worldviews. Still, when those men and women came together in Christ’s name to worship Jesus, their King and to honor God, their Heavenly Father and surrender to the Holy Spirit, their Counselor; that they did so without being handcuffed by any allegiance to crown or country. Those who worshipped at St. Paul’s were patriots of Canaan and Jerusalem first; producing a fidelity that left little heart to spare for Barcelona, Paris, London, or Philadelphia.
I’m so grateful to God for the blessing of being born in the United States of America. Our republic is truly the greatest government ever devised by man. I heartily celebrate its founding and I rejoice in the victories General Washington and the Colonial Army won all those years ago. We are so blessed. May the light of the United States of America never dim! But, as we labor to fulfill that prayer, both history and the wisdom of Scripture encourage us to search out a better and surer hope.
Now, I know there are no new lands to set sail for should this one no longer keep the promise of its founding and I know what’s possible should new documents and constitutions one day be drawn up and fought over. I know that peace is a fragile thing that never lasts forever. But I also know that – whatever hostilities may suddenly broil all about – that come Sunday, I will gather with fellow believers to worship the God of Israel. We may be free to worship on Eastern Avenue or we may have to worship in one another’s homes or in the woods or under an overpass somewhere. But, in the end, it doesn’t matter under what flag we gather for worship for the banner over us will be His love!
We’re looking forward to gathering together tomorrow morning to celebrate communion with the Lord – a shalom we’re only able to enjoy by the shed blood of Jesus Christ. And so, we’ll sing worship to our King, we’ll share in fellowship with our Father, and we’ll understand it all by the teaching of the Holy Spirit dwelling within. What a thought! It’s going to be wonderful. May the Lord, mighty God, bless and continue to keep us!
