Terrific essay Jim, thanks. History is not merely a record of what was, it’s the living memory of God’s stubborn participation in human affairs. The plague-ridden streets of medieval Europe, the collapsing grandeur of Rome, the bloody upheavals of revolution… these are not just past events, but sacraments of a divine pattern: death and resurrection writ large across civilizations. The same God who entered time in the person of Christ still moves through the ruins of empires, not as a distant observer, but as one who bears the scars of every crisis.
The anxiety of our age… the fear that democracy is unraveling, that technology is rewiring our humanity, that the center cannot hold, is not new. But neither is God’s response. The incarnation was not a one-time intervention but the eternal logic by which God meets chaos. When the Black Death decimated Europe, it was not despite the devastation but within it that the seeds of the Renaissance took root. When Rome fell, it was in the fragmentation that the Church preserved not just knowledge, but the living tradition of a God who makes all things new.
I seem this as the mysticism of history: that every collapse is a potential manger. The "laboratory of the Spirit" (as the Quakers called it) is not a quiet chapel, but the streets, the protest lines, the voting booths, the places where power is contested. To engage politically without spiritual grounding is to risk becoming what we oppose, and to contemplate without acting is to betray the God who took sides among the oppressed.
If the printing press helped fracture Christendom, it also democratized Scripture. If social media distorts, it also connects. The divine pattern holds. Every tool can become a sacrament or an idol, depending on whether we use it to dominate or to serve. The answer is not retreat, but redemption.
History’s lesson seems clear. The end of one world is always the birth of another. Our task is not to despair at the collapse, but to midwife the new thing God is doing. To be, like Mary, bearers of the impossible. The house is not just on fire, it is being rebuilt from the ashes, and the Architect has already shown us how He works: from a tomb, outward.
Jonathan, Thanks for this. I'm reminded of the line from an old Neil Youn song called On the Beach. The line is, "Though my problems are meaningless, that don't make them go away." Not exactly what you are writing here, but close enough. Be well, I appreciate your thoughtful digestion of my work, and it's reciprocal of yours. Jim
Thank you for this Jim. The last two Sundays (and it is looking like it again this Sunday) I have been preaching on the power and danger of fear. (On the Sea of Galilee the disciples are fearful of the storm. Once Jesus stills that they are fearful of Jesus. The Genesarians (sp?) are fearful of the man in the tombs. Once he is "clothed & in his right mind" they are fearful of Jesus.) How does fear limit and / or paralyze us?
With the bombing Saturday evening I struggled with changing my sermon for Sunday, acknowledging I am NOT good at last minute, radical changes. I did modify it some, but the message around fear remained appropriate, I believe.
Hmm. As I write this I am reminded of my transition from MaineGeneral Hospital to Central Maine Medical Center. Until our house sold I was commuting over three hours daily. Through the Maine winter. WHILE trying to manage my family through relocation. WHILE starting a new job. Rebecca and I had put the sale of the house in God's hands. I figured God could take care of that in a month or two. Nope. Ten months. Now it WAS the perfect family who bought the house, so God wonderfully answered our prayer, but . . . I've never particularly been a fan of "God's time" despite decades of experience that it is right and good.
Anyway, there were some days of driving in the dark on snowy roads that I got a little frustrated. Then I would be with a patient facing their third amputation due to diabetes, or the one just diagnosed with cancer, again, and likely this time fatal.
I would wonder "Why did I think MY life was difficult?"
Well, my life WAS difficult! The commute put enormous strain on me and Rebecca. On our finances and vehicle maintenance. The fact that others had worse difficulties did not make my life easy or comfortable. It DID give me a lot to discern/reflect on/contemplate though.
Acknowledging that there are worse situations does not dismiss the pain/struggle/danger of the current situation (whatever that may be), but does, perhaps, address the fear that might otherwise paralyze us and provides some level of . . . perspective.
Terrific essay Jim, thanks. History is not merely a record of what was, it’s the living memory of God’s stubborn participation in human affairs. The plague-ridden streets of medieval Europe, the collapsing grandeur of Rome, the bloody upheavals of revolution… these are not just past events, but sacraments of a divine pattern: death and resurrection writ large across civilizations. The same God who entered time in the person of Christ still moves through the ruins of empires, not as a distant observer, but as one who bears the scars of every crisis.
The anxiety of our age… the fear that democracy is unraveling, that technology is rewiring our humanity, that the center cannot hold, is not new. But neither is God’s response. The incarnation was not a one-time intervention but the eternal logic by which God meets chaos. When the Black Death decimated Europe, it was not despite the devastation but within it that the seeds of the Renaissance took root. When Rome fell, it was in the fragmentation that the Church preserved not just knowledge, but the living tradition of a God who makes all things new.
I seem this as the mysticism of history: that every collapse is a potential manger. The "laboratory of the Spirit" (as the Quakers called it) is not a quiet chapel, but the streets, the protest lines, the voting booths, the places where power is contested. To engage politically without spiritual grounding is to risk becoming what we oppose, and to contemplate without acting is to betray the God who took sides among the oppressed.
If the printing press helped fracture Christendom, it also democratized Scripture. If social media distorts, it also connects. The divine pattern holds. Every tool can become a sacrament or an idol, depending on whether we use it to dominate or to serve. The answer is not retreat, but redemption.
History’s lesson seems clear. The end of one world is always the birth of another. Our task is not to despair at the collapse, but to midwife the new thing God is doing. To be, like Mary, bearers of the impossible. The house is not just on fire, it is being rebuilt from the ashes, and the Architect has already shown us how He works: from a tomb, outward.
Wonderful post, Jim.
Jonathan, Thanks for this. I'm reminded of the line from an old Neil Youn song called On the Beach. The line is, "Though my problems are meaningless, that don't make them go away." Not exactly what you are writing here, but close enough. Be well, I appreciate your thoughtful digestion of my work, and it's reciprocal of yours. Jim
THANKS. LOVE THE LINE ABOUT "GOD'S STUBBORN PARTICIPATION IN HUMAN AFFAIRS."
YES. Great Line. "God’s stubborn participation in human affairs"
Thank you for this Jim. The last two Sundays (and it is looking like it again this Sunday) I have been preaching on the power and danger of fear. (On the Sea of Galilee the disciples are fearful of the storm. Once Jesus stills that they are fearful of Jesus. The Genesarians (sp?) are fearful of the man in the tombs. Once he is "clothed & in his right mind" they are fearful of Jesus.) How does fear limit and / or paralyze us?
With the bombing Saturday evening I struggled with changing my sermon for Sunday, acknowledging I am NOT good at last minute, radical changes. I did modify it some, but the message around fear remained appropriate, I believe.
Hmm. As I write this I am reminded of my transition from MaineGeneral Hospital to Central Maine Medical Center. Until our house sold I was commuting over three hours daily. Through the Maine winter. WHILE trying to manage my family through relocation. WHILE starting a new job. Rebecca and I had put the sale of the house in God's hands. I figured God could take care of that in a month or two. Nope. Ten months. Now it WAS the perfect family who bought the house, so God wonderfully answered our prayer, but . . . I've never particularly been a fan of "God's time" despite decades of experience that it is right and good.
Anyway, there were some days of driving in the dark on snowy roads that I got a little frustrated. Then I would be with a patient facing their third amputation due to diabetes, or the one just diagnosed with cancer, again, and likely this time fatal.
I would wonder "Why did I think MY life was difficult?"
Well, my life WAS difficult! The commute put enormous strain on me and Rebecca. On our finances and vehicle maintenance. The fact that others had worse difficulties did not make my life easy or comfortable. It DID give me a lot to discern/reflect on/contemplate though.
Acknowledging that there are worse situations does not dismiss the pain/struggle/danger of the current situation (whatever that may be), but does, perhaps, address the fear that might otherwise paralyze us and provides some level of . . . perspective.