First Baptist Arlington

If you take the 38 bus from downtown San Francisco and get off at 26th Avenue, you can look across the street and see a Russian Orthodox church. Sitting right in the middle of a hectic urban neighborhood of shops and traffic, it is a beautiful white church with golden domes that absolutely glisten in the sunlight. Gold is the color which represents heaven. It draws your mind to thoughts of things heavenly. Beautiful icon-style paintings adorn the outside of the building. The whole appearance of the church is bright and inviting.

If you step inside, your senses are jolted by the darkened interior. There is an entry way similar to our narthex. In Russian Orthodox churches it is called an iconostasis. It separates the inside of the church from the outside world. It is intended to stop physical sight, and allow worshipers to achieve spiritual sight.

The sanctuary itself is enriched with many sacramental objects including icons which are hung on the walls. Murals cover most of the interior. In the dark sanctuary the gold paint of the icons catch the light of candles around the room. There are no pews in the church.There are a few scattered chairs for the elderly or those unable to stand.

For those of us from different faith traditions, this church seems very old and archaic. Why then can it evoke such a sense a wonder and of breathtaking holiness? We can’t even understand the language of the black robed priest. The language of worship may be Russian, but the presence of God is vibrant and alive. God himself seems to speak to us through our physical senses apart from our own comfortable worship style and even in a language we don’t understand. How can this be? Perhaps it reminds us that we are a part of the universal church and are joined with other believers across the world and across the ages. It shows us that God is not limited in how and where he speaks to his people. May he open our eyes, our hearts and even our senses to hear his voice and catch a glimpse of his holiness.

Jon and I are about to take a long journey. Tomorrow morning we fly to San Francisco to visit our son. Our flight leaves Boston at 6 am, and we’ll be in San Francisco in time to have lunch with our son. Isn’t that amazing! In this case time really does fly. And California time is three hours earlier.

When we lived in Kansas, I often took my students on a field trip to a site where covered wagons passed in such numbers that there are deep ruts in the ground. And that site was still very far fromCalifornia. It took months for pioneers to make the long journey. Along the way, people discarded furniture and other treasurers to lighten their wagons. Family members died and were buried alongthe trail. It was a rough trip, and many didn’t make it. Those pioneers were in search of a better life for themselves and their families.

We are all on a spiritual journey. Jon likes to call it our journey of faith. We take this journey whether we want to or not. Sometimes we ignore God, and he waits until we seek him. Other times we search for him in the scriptures and listen for his direction. Sometimes we are desperate and cry out to him. This life journey begins at birth as we are all born bearing the image of our creator. It ends at death when we, as Christians, come into his presence in heaven and begin eternity with him.

So wherever you are on your personal journey I hope you will seek guidance from the one who made you and knows you all together. Have a good trip!

It has been a challenge to absorb the media coverage of the possible swine flu pandemic while being quite sick with a bug myself. I keep checking to see if my obituary is in the Boston Globe, but so far I haven’t seen it. That’s good news -- as far as I’m concerned.

I remember reading Albert Camus back in my years of restless wandering and searching for faith. Camus saw life as absurd and without meaning, yet the existentialist kept looking for ways to find hope.

Albert Camus book’s The Plague, like the current crisis, called for my involvement. I could not ignore the big questions it posed because Nell and I lived in Huemoz, Switzerland, and from our little chalet I could look down the mountain at the ruins of Old Huemoz, which had been abandoned when hit by the bubonic plague hundreds of years before. This gave a sense of urgency to the question of how God was involved in the bad things and evil that happens to humans.

Camus book sets up the dilemma for us as rats bring the plague into town. He makes his readers face a choice: either they join sides with the doctor and fight the plague, or they join sides with the priest and not struggle against the plague. If the way of the doctor is chosen, we are not only fighting the plague, but automatically fighting God. If we join the priest, then while accepting God’s will, we are failing our fellow humans.

Francis Schaeffer, the godly theologian who lured me to study with him at L’Abri in Huemoz saw Camus’ quandary as something the Christian need not face. Camus was making a false choice, for there is a better solution that God has provided. The Christian believer has every reason to fight evil and the things that are wrong. As believers, we do not need to join sides with the doctor and oppose God by fighting the plague. We do not need to join with the priest to be on God’s side yet also become anti-human by not fighting the plague.

We do not need to fit into this either-or dilemma of Camus. Jesus shows us a different way. In John 11 we find him standing at the tomb of Lazarus, and he is both crying and angry at the death of his friend. We understand his tears, but need to marvel at his anger. Jesus was angry at death, and the broken, abnormal, death-inhabited world that had been caused by sin. To bring Camus into this, Jesus Christ hated the evil, hated the plague. Jesus, God incarnate, could hate the evil without hating himself, because he was not the cause of the plague.

As Christians, we can fight the evil wrongs in the world and know that as we work against them, God hates them, too. In fact, God hates evil so much that he provides the hope of redemption. God did this through a sacrifice that was incredibly costly to himself.

I do not know if we are facing a coming pandemic of swine flu that will rival the Black Death of ages past. I do know we can resist all the plagues of our world and fight against them with every resource we have, confident that God hates evil, too. And if the pandemic does not materialize and we do not witness catastrophic, worldwide loss? We can still resist the little evils in our lives, knowing that God cares about the the small things that plague us as well. My Bible says he even sees when a sparrow falls. So prepare for the big one -- stay healthy, wash your hands and cover your mouth when you cough. But also prepare for the times when you can resist little wrongs by offering an encouraging world or a heartfelt hug to those looking for hope in their lives. And don’t forget to share the good news of Jesus Christ, who is the real hope of this wonderful, yet damaged world.