We all know the troubling statistics - that more than half of all marriages end in divorce, that less that 1/3 of children born this decade will reach maturity with both parents in the home. We all have heard so many explanations why. It took about a decade for the liberal media to come up with an explanation they could splatter all over the television screen from The Learning Channel to the Today Show. But they have one now, and want us to know that divorce, and the disintegration of the family is just the normal way things are for humans.

 

Monogamy is not natural for humans, they say. Our hunter-gatherer forbears on the steppe of Africa had as many mates as possible in order to diversify the gene-pool, they say. They say that the nuclear family is an artificial model contrived by Republicans, robber-barons, and the religious right in order to promote the propriety of the enfranchised elite. Love, they say, is a matter of chemistry-pheromones and hormones, and that the effect of these chemicals is ephemeral.

 

I doubt if any of those bio-chemists or behavioral scientists cited by the liberal media listen to Paul Harvey much. Everyday Paul Harvey congratulates couples on celebrating their 60th, 65th, 70th anniversaries. The bio-chemists and behavioral scientists don't have an explanation for them.

 

But God does.

 

God described what should be that way. "Let a man leave his father and mother and cleave to his wife; and they shah become one flesh. "Genesis 2:24.

 

Television has given us two primary models for marriage - the Cleavers, and the Connors. The Cleavers-Wally, the Beaver, Ward and June were the poster family for the Eisenhower administration. Ward never raised his voice. June cleaned the house in heels and pearls. The Connors - Dan, Roseanne, et al are the spokesfamily for post-modern sensibility. They curse each other, insult each other, lie regularly, and always act in self interest. These are the two categories the culture tries to force us into - one is cold, the other crass, one prudish, the other perverse. The result is that we don't know what true love is supposed to look like. We can't recognize what God is describing above.

 

Thankfully, He has given us an 8 by 10 inch glossy of what marriage is supposed to look like. He gives it to us in the Old Testament book Song of Solomon. Song of Solomon, or more correctly the "Song of Songs" is a series of poems dedicated to Solomon, written between a man and a woman between the time of their courtship and marriage. It's frankness, it's subject matter, have made it a difficult read for commentators. Some deny its place in the canon of scripture. Others have seen it as pure allegory, describing God's love for his people (how does "let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth - 1:2 fit into this scheme"). What it is an unflinching portrait, neither prudish or pornographic.

 

This couple lives Genesis 2:24 and talk about it. They tell us true love includes strong physical attraction (1:2-4, 9-11, 4:9 - in fact most of the book). It includes strong commitment, an overwhelming sense of "us" (2:16, 6:3, 7:10). It includes a hunger for presence (2:14 - the entire seeking/finding motif). It is exclusive (there is one beloved for each of them). All these qualities are repeated in the New Testament as well (Heb. 13:4, Eph. 5:25-33, 1 Peter 3:17, 1 Corinthians 7:3-5). This portrait defies cultural categories. This couple is neither the Connors nor the Cleavers and we are so blessed they show us the better way.

September 11, 2001. President Roosevelt used the word "infamy" to describe December 7, 1941 - but what word is dark enough, severe enough to describe what we experienced that day (and countless times since) when we watched the plane slice through the second tower, both towers collapse, and the Pentagon in flames. This is new territory — we have nothing in history with which lo compare 6000 and more civilians killed in the security of their workplaces in an attack against History's greatest nation by a loosely connected network of terrorists.

We may remember the Challenger disaster, the Tet Offensive, the Iranian Hostage Crisis, the Fall of Saigon, the Kennedy and KJng Assassinations, even Pearl Harbor - yet none compare - none provide a paradigm, a frame of reference and meaning.

And so we must turn to what we have read to find a comparison — for reading allows us to transcend personal experience and connect with the past and with imagination. I was reminded of Pietro Di Donato's novel Christ in Concrete, which describes, in leirifyTng detail, what it is like to die in a collapsing skyscraper. I thought of John Hersey's Hiroshima, with its detailed stories of those who did and did not survive the explosion at "ground zero". I recalled C.S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters, which was written during the London Blitz, and in which death by bombing brings a saved man immediate victory and bliss.

But mostly I thought about scripture — especially the Psalms. And so did everyone else. Mayors, Military men, fire fighters, EMTs. the President, and Network news anchors, repeated the phrases of scripture. Even the Hollywood crowd reminded us "God is a great God" (Julia Roberts) during last Friday night's national telethon.

It is not surprising that a tragedy of biblical proportions leaves us groping for biblical comfort and perspective. But what about the reverse? Should we the people of the book be comfortable with the language of nationalism of American patriotism?

I have often used these essays to remind us that Christians are engaged in a cultural war against the West, using language not unlike some of the accusations Osama Bin Laden makes against Americans. I refuse to retreat from such a stance. Jesus frequently tells us the values of the kingdom are opposed to the values of the West (Matthew 5.47, 6.7, 6.32, Mark 10.41 among others). Paul reminds us we are in a war ofworldviews, and we will not capitulate (II Corinthians 10.4, Ephesians 6.12). We are not citizens of any nation; we are citizens of heaven (Philippians 3.20). As long as we are here we are pilgrims and strangers (II Peter 2.10-12).

So can a pilgrim be a patriot?

Can we be devoted to love for our enemies - overcoming evil with good and devoted to our country, its defense, and those in uniform who wage war on our behalf?

I believe these roles - God's pilgrim and American patriot - are not exclusive - and that the word itself expects OUT patriotism.

In the same passage which tells us to overcome evil with good (Romans 12.9-13.7) we are also told that our government is God's servant to protect us and punish those evildoers who plot harm against us. We are told that our government has been authorized to use lethal force in the exercise of this responsibility. Praying for our enemies, and praying for our armed services are not mutually exclusive.

In fact, praying for our government is a Christian duty (I Timothy 2.1-3). Such a prayer is "pleasing to God our Savior." Our prayer should be that we are allowed to live "quiet, peaceful lives." This is the case. We, in America, enjoy more "domestic tranquility" than any people at any time m history. The United States of America answers this prayer as no nation ever has. We can not but be grateful to God for our nation.

This crisis has served to remind us just how "Christian" our nation continues to be. Same-sex marriage, stem-cell research, and partial birth abortion not withstanding - we are still molded by our Christian past. We are still shaped by the great awakening that formed our founding fathers, and the great revival that shaped our frontier fathers. We still believe that "all men are created equal", and are endowed by lheir creator with the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. We still believe that we can have "malice toward none", and still fight to ensure the "government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

We still believe in God.
We still believe in grace.
And so the pilgrim can be, must be a patriot.

I saw a really neat commercial the other day. Some businessmen around a conference table in an office building somewhere where there are minarets to be seen out the window are upset. They make a phone call, and an American girl picks up on the other line. The guy from Dubai, or Qatar, or Yemen makes a testy and demanding statement in Arabic to her, and she says, "Dad this guy has lost his shipment." The dad says not to worry, another is on the way, and she, answering in 9~ grade English replies to the man on the other end who understands her perfectly. They were advertising some software or phone system that offered an immediate translation feature. The commercial reminded me we still smart from, and still accommodate the Babel event.

And for good reason.

Before God intervened at Babel He Himself said that "nothing" would be impossible for us (Genesis 11.6). We understand that lack of communication is what limits our potential. Greek, Latin, French, Esperanto, and English have each taken a turn at whacking the pinata of communication. Now sequences of zeros and ones will have a try. But to no avail.

Because sharing a similar language is only a short step. Folks from Limerick, Edinburgh, Bath, Saskatoon, Detroit, Natchez, Dunedin, and Canberra all speak English. And yet, they would have a hard time putting together a progress report. They don't share a vocabulary. Even if they did, they don't share life experiences. Words are just symbols for things we experience. "Snickers Bar," the phrase, is just a symbol on a page for the delicious chocolate-peanut-caramel treat we enjoy. Without shared life experiences a shared vocabulary doesn't help much.

The Babel moment was a unique opportunity. Everyone was still pretty closely related. They were all in one place. In addition to one language, and one word-hoard, they shared a common goal, and a common plan to arrive at it. The goal itself - "staying together" - reinforced the easy flow of communication. Even if programmers have come up with a phone system that immediately translates languages, no businessman from Qatar will be able to communicate with a high school freshman from Escondido for very long.

There was a moment in history when Babel was reversed. Thousands gathered in a common place. They had a common religion - Judaism, common life experiences as sojoumers, and a common hope - a Messiah. Yet, they all spoke different languages. Then the Holy Spirit came with a great sound like a mighty rushing wind, alighting upon the Apostles like tongues of fire, and everyone - whether from Phrygia, Libya, or Crete - heard the gospel preached in their own language (Acts 2.11). Three thousand were baptized that day. In Christ, Babel had been reversed. I needed translators in India, but I didn't need to change my sermons. The gospel is universal and inclusive, eternally so. It doesn't need to be wrapped up in cultural fric-frac to be relevant. It is innately relevant. The simple message of the simple gospel is the only reversal of Babel.

 “Jesus wept.”  John 11.35

 In ancient Rome it was common for women to save their tears.  They saved them in little stoppered bottles called “lachrymals”.  Some saved tears of joy alone.  Some only tears of sorrow.  Some collected any tear shed as a sort of liquid history of their lives.  Some lachrymals were simple, even crude.  Some were jeweled.  All were considered sacred.

Despite the diminutive size of these narrow-necked, heart-shaped vials, it took years to fill them.  Julie London claimed to have cried a river (over Jack Webb, that’s “just the facts”) in a popular song half a century ago – an amazing feat since filling a small lachrymal could take half-a-lifetime.

Women wore them around their necks as amulets, or hid them in boxes with their dearest treasures.  Some times they gave them to a husband or suitor as testimony of the depth of their devotion.  Sometimes a woman would empty her lachrymal into a sacred stream or spring in order to bid a symbolic goodbye to the heartache that filled it.

The notion behind saving one’s tears is the understanding that they are a tangible expression of something inner, intangible.  How do you quantify something inward and abstract?  Yet those inward, abstract things – joys and sorrows, are more real, more immediate than a chair, a bowl, a doorstep.  A tear is emotion in the form of liquid matter, or at least the residual byproduct of emotion.  In either case, a lachrymal caught and preserved, droplet by droplet, the substance of pure emotion.  In this way, the cause of pure emotion was preserved as well.

The Bible is a lachrymal.  So many tears of sorrow and joy are preserved in it.  Rachael weeps for her children.  Joseph cries on the necks of his brothers in glad reunion.  David’s tears flow over the pierced body of Absalom, and on and on.  Among the tears the Bible contains, are the tears of God.

God bears His deepest emotions.  His yearnings, His feelings of betrayal, His persistent love are expressed in the tears of Hosea 11.  Jesus’ longing to mother-hen Israel and His being rejected are preserved in the tears of Matthew 23.37.  And then there is that shortest verse of the Bible;

Jesus Wept.

These are tears of pure empathy.  Jesus was about to raise Lazarus from the dead – had intended to do it all along.  But Mary, his dear, dear friend – Mary, who was always at his feet, who was one of the very few who understood Him – Mary was heart-broken and unrestrained.

And so

            Jesus wept.

            And John, in his old age

Collected the tears.

            And saved them for us.

And so we have this repository,

This stoppered bottle,

            Heart shaped,

            God breathed,

And filled with tangible proof that He is, He knows, He cares.