See Christianity clearly when the storm blows the fog away
It has long been my contention that times of relative ease and prosperity for some reason tend to produce a thick fog of confusion and societal chaos.
When most all is well, there seems to be ample time for violence, self-indulgence, narcissism and illogical philosophizing. Yet when disaster strikes, as it now has with hurricanes Harvey and Irma, the very winds of the storm seem to blow away the fog of confusion.
To wit: In times of ease, moral relativism becomes all the rage. “There are no moral absolutes! There is no such thing as truth; what is true for you may not be true for me; it is all a matter of preference. Everyone just ‘do you;’ live out your own truth. And don’t ever let anyone judge you!”
And then the storm comes. And when gas stations or hotels raise their prices, people scream, “How dare you gouge people! You are wicked and wrong!”
Really? On what basis do you say that? I thought there were no moral absolutes and that everyone was to live out “their own truth?” And I thought judging people was wrong.
The storm blows away the fog of confusion. There are moral absolutes, written on the hearts of men by their creator God.
This is what Romans 2:15 calls “the work of the law written in their hearts.” Some things are right, some things are wrong, and God has made it so. If a person who has the ability to help someone drowning in the flood waters passes by in unconcern and lets them drown, the video will go viral and there will be a moral outcry, because everyone knows that it is morally wrong.
In times of ease, it is fashionable to tell Christians to “keep their faith private.” And then the storm comes, and churches everywhere take up offerings and send volunteer help and feed the hungry and clothe the needy. And suddenly the notion of Christians “keeping their faith private” is exposed as the ridiculous tripe it has always been.
Jesus said, “Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.”
The storm blows away the fog of confusion. Whether it is the need to do door-to-door, soul-winning evangelism or volunteer efforts to help those devastated by disaster or speaking out against sin in the society, a “private Christian faith” is only private; it is neither Christian nor is it faith.
In times of ease there will always be those who benefit from racial strife, telling us that everyone hates each other and that everyone is hopelessly divided. This provides a constant stream of income and a comfortable living from those stirring up that strife.
But then the storm comes, and color seems to melt away. Those in need come in shades of white, black and everywhere in between, and those coming to their aid come in all of those exact same shades.
The storm blows away the fog of confusion. If the voices of the strife stirrers are drowned out, people tend to rise to the occasion and help each other. Yes, we all have a sinful, fallen nature.
But we also live in a land that has had a great deal of the preaching of Christ’s command that we love one another. And when those who profit from stirring up strife are dwarfed by the storm, people often do just that, proving that the divides in our society are not nearly as deep as we are constantly told.
I shudder at the power of the storms and the damage they can cause. And yet at the exact same moment I rejoice that a very good God uses the winds of those storms to blow away the fog of confusion.