Songs of Triumph

Psalm 92:5-9; Romans 8:31-39; 1 John 4:1-4

These three texts are perfect hymns for us this weekend as we grieve with our brothers and sisters in France, reeling from a horrific attack on people simply trying to enjoy the start of their weekend. These texts answer the horror we witness, but it may be hard to see exactly how. Let me explain.

Sadly, events like that in Paris are becoming ever more commonplace. Way too often, the world seems completely insane. We wonder what is wrong with us collectively as a species. We wonder why we are forced to live in a constant state of awareness and alertness. We wonder where it will happen next, fearing it will be somewhere very close.

Listen to these songs.

Each singer is someone who knew well all of the fears, worries, and angst we feel this morning. The psalmist knew the reality of exile, torn from home, country, and even faith practice. St. Paul knew persecution, imprisonment, and suffering as he preached Christ for the world. St. John also knew those things, and he saw and felt deeply the worry, fear, and doubt creeping into his congregations. Yet, each of them also knew the power of Jesus—not as some mindless pollyanna dismissal of all they witnessed—a denial and a distraction—but as something they literally trusted with their lives. 

How?

They saw in Jesus an answer to death and death-dealing. He rose. Death could not hold him. They heard the promise that the same was true for all through Jesus—death cannot hold us. No situation is beyond redemption. No circumstance is eternally broken. They saw in Jesus a way to transform and transcend the world—love others fully and completely, welcoming when all else says to lock oneself away in a mighty fortress. Fearfully, we declare the only solution to be the obliteration of the perpetrators. Jesus reveals a more excellent way, one interestingly posited by Lindsay Graham—work with the next generation to instill in them a new way of thinking and being. Or, practice the welcome and presence of Jesus with others. Show them the power of love by being love. Show them the power of grace by being gracious. Show them the power of hope by living hope.

I was struck deeply by the fact that in the midst of roiling aftermath of the attacks, Parisians texted and tweeted far and wide that their homes were open to anyone who needing shelter in the chaos. Imagine the courage needed to do so when unknown terrorists were still at large in the city—who might ring your bell? Then, they lined up to donate blood for the wounded. Compassion—neighborly compassion—united a city. Or, love was lived. 

That is the answer found in these songs of triumph. You can terrorize us, afflict us, seek to kill us, but we will stand together, stand in welcome, and refuse to be anything else. We will show you a more excellent way in our very lives. 

How?

We are with God.

We are in God. 

We are of God.

That answers the horror and terror. That negates their claim of acting in response to God. Our lives reveal God. Our love is the revelation of God in the world. 

May we go and practice well.

The world needs us.