No one was quite sure when sundown came, for it was already too dark too see. The enormous clouds of dust and debris had filled the air for hours, and a choking darkness engulfed the sky.
The moments of destruction had been so horrible, so swift and so complete, that those left alive could hardly take it all in, and certainly could not find the words to express their shock. Some of them were, in fact, the walking dead -- blinded, with their flesh torn and bleeding, unable to recognize any landmarks, unsure of where their families might be or, indeed, whether any of them were left alive. The enemy’s power had been overwhelming. The destruction had been complete.
Now fires were burning everywhere in the city. What had not been destroyed in the initial shock wave was now going to succumb to the flames, and there was no one able to respond to the frequent cries for help. The city was fast on its way to being a dead thing, a desert, a pile of rubble where once there had been a flourishing community.
But even more agonizing than the fires which burned the homes and shops and temples of the city were the fires which burned in the hearts of the survivors. Not only did they fear for their own lives; not only did they suspect that those whom they loved were gone like a vapor in the night; not only was there no home to return to, no workplace in which to earn daily bread, not even a grid of streets through which to make one’s way, but worst of all, there was the anguished fear that the nation itself was gone. The nation itself had to have been destroyed. How could any nation, how could any people, survive so brutal and so total a destructive force?
Such are the effects of war. Such, especially, are the effects of an act of war designed to bring total destruction.
This is the first week of August; and exactly forty-five years ago the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were the objects of such an act of war. Using weapons never before deployed in the history of warfare, the United States acted to end nearly four terrible years of conflict with a decisive attack that would bring Japan to her knees.
I do not rise today either to defend or to condemn the use of nuclear power in 1945. That we will leave to the military historians and to the political pundits. But I am glad that Baptist Christians all over the nation are asked to observe the first Sunday in August each year as a Day of Prayer for World Peace. I am pleased that we are called upon to remember this day not so much as conquerors and victors, for, after all, in war, nobody wins; everybody loses. I am pleased that we are called upon to remember this day and to stand before our God, confessing our own guilt, remembering how we have taken lives in anger, but, most of all, pleading for peace in a war-weary world.
And I am especially pleased that, as we do so, we can turn to the Scriptures to understand what it is like to be those who must pick up the pieces. In another battle-filled summer in the year 587 BC, after a long and weary siege, the city of Jerusalem was destroyed and the nation of Judah was brought to its knees. Starving, worn out, discouraged, the residents of Jerusalem watched in horror as the walls of the city were breached and as the soldiers of Babylon poured in and destroyed everything … almost literally everything. They took the king captive and blinded him; they leveled the walls and burned the city; they executed many of the leaders of the nation; and, worst of all, they just scooped up everybody who knew how to do anything and deported them to Babylon, so that the only people left were the simple, untrained, unskilled folk. Jerusalem as a city was destroyed and Judah as a nation was no longer possible. This was the end.
But with God, even the end is a beginning. Even the ashes of destruction provide our God with the material out of which to rebuild. Even the stench of death does not stop our God from renewing the life of His people.
And so more than a hundred years after the fall of Jerusalem, God raised up a man named Nehemiah and gave him the task of rebuilding the city. We are going to spend some time with Nehemiah this month. And we are going to learn a great deal about how to build, how to lead others to build, and how to participate in Kingdom enterprises. God the builder raised up Nehemiah when the walls had been destroyed in war, and led Nehemiah to fight a new battle, a new war of the walls, so that the Kingdom might go forward.
Let me share sane of that story with you:
Nehemiah 2:11-20; 4:1-14
Destruction, after all, is part of the fortune of war. As the saying goes, you cannot make an omelet without breaking eggs. Whether it be Jerusalem in the sixth century before Christ or Hiroshima and Nagasaki in our own century; whether it be the British, scarlet-coated ancestors of my parents-in-law, blackening the White House in 1814, or themselves suffering from Hitler’s V-2 rockets in the 1940’s, the nature of war is to be destructive. That is a given.
And, as I have already said, war not only destroys buildings, it destroys the human spirit. It erodes confidence and it can even take down a nation, a civilization. War exacts an incalculable toll.
I
But I want you to hear from these Scriptures that no matter what the toll of battle may be, our God is a builder. Our God purposes that His people create; they do not have to live forever with the consequences of destruction.
Our God is a builder, a creator, and He calls His people to build up, even when others have torn down. Our God is a builder, a creator, and He summons His people to build up, even when the task seems overwhelming and impossible.
Out of the throne room of the Persian emperor God called Nehemiah and planted in his heart a mission of building. And Nehemiah, moved by the plight of his people, seeing that they had given up, knowing that they had what it takes to do the job but were just disorganized and discouraged -- Nehemiah owned that task and moved to Jerusalem to set about the monumental task of organizing the people to build.
You see, our God is a builder, and He is a creator, and always He is looking for human instruments through whom to work the work of building and rebuilding. I do not believe it is too much to say that in the aftermath of the Second World War two American generals, MacArthur and Marshall, were instruments in the hands of this rebuilding God, putting things back together after the devastations of Japan and of Europe. Oh, I cannot tell you they consciously thought of what they were doing as God-led actions, but it wouldn’t be the first time that our creative, building God used those who did not even know they were being used!
Our God is a builder, and He is a creator, and He is looking for those who can be instruments of His to take whatever is shattered and broken and beaten down and make it new again.
I am wondering today who there is in this room that our God will use as an instrument of rebuilding. I am wondering what Nehemiahs we have in this congregation, who will share with our restoring God His task of rebuilding something that seems forever shattered.
Who is there who would move into the life of a young person, devastated from drug use and· alcohol abuse and all kinds of misuse -- a life that seems broken beyond repair? Who is there who would be Nehemiah for such a young person as that and rebuild that life, because that’s what our God is looking for, isn’t it? That’s what our rebuilding God is looking for!
Who is there who would move into the life of this city, demoralized by criminal allegations, divided by racism, devastated by neglect, and rebuild the integrity of this city? Who will be God’s Nehemiahs to bring to the city of Washington a restored integrity, a rebuilt confidence, a capacity for compassion? Is that not what our creating, rebuilding God is calling us for?
And friends, who will take hold of the life of this church and keep on building it into what our God wants and needs on this corner? Who will be … how many of us will be …God’s Nehemiahs right here at Takoma Park, owning the task that is before us, willingly doing what we are called to do, seeing how, yes, our fabric is a little shredded over some battles that were fought a few years back, but that now we have to get on with the task of building our life together. We have to rebuild our outreach; we have to rebuild our ministries of compassion, and yes, we even need to rebuild our facilities … a daunting task, yes … but our God is a God who takes what seems impossible and makes it happen.
For with God, even the end is a beginning. Even the ashes of destruction provide our God with the material out of which to rebuild. Even the stench of death does not stop our God from renewing the life of His people.
II
But now I think it is only right and proper to call your attention to something that will happen when you agree to be Nehemiah. When you set out to build, somebody is going to tell you that you cannot do it. Somebody is going to remind you that the task you are undertaking is hopeless. Somebody is going to start the war of destruction all over again, only this time it may not be with bombs and bullets; this time it will be with words and warnings.
Listen to what happened when Nehemiah really got going with organizing the people to build the walls of Jerusalem. Sanballat and Tobiah, the governors of Samaria and Ammon began to snipe at the project. And the sarcasm fairly drips from their mouths. Said the governor of Samaria, "What is this thing that you are doing? You feeble Jews! Will they revive the stones out of the heaps of rubbish, and burned ones at that?" And his vitriol was echoed by the governor of Ammon, "Yes, what they are building -- if a tiny little fox should climb this wall it would fall down!"
Ah, you recognize these voices, don’t you? We know who this is, don’t we? We know that every time anything worthwhile is undertaken, there will be somebody to fight the war of the walls, somebody to tell you it can’t be done!
Whenever God’s people undertake something positive, the critics and the cynics, the naysayers and the selfish, will give you all the reasons why not.
And notice with me what the tactics really are; notice with me how those who attack God’s Nehemiahs employ a Satanic strategy:
First of all, they will operate out of their own guilt. They will shoot at you because they have done nothing themselves, and they feel guilty.
Sanballat was the governor of Samaria; and Samaria at that time included the city of Jerusalem. Jerusalem, in other words, was already under his control, but he had done nothing. He had attempted no great work, he had undertaken no rebuilding; he had simply sat down and enjoyed the title of governor, and had done precisely nothing. And now, you can understand why he would feel threatened. "Nehemiah is showing me up; I’ve got to stop that!"
And then, too, those who would fight the war of the walls, those who would impede God’s program of rebuilding -- they use the tactics of intimidation. And intimidation works -- it really does. Just threaten somebody with a lawsuit and. see how quickly they back down from whatever it was they were doing. Just mention the possibility of conflict to some people and they become jellyfish. And so it is no surprise when the venom of Sanballat and his colleagues came to the ears of the Jews, a good many of them said to Nehemiah, "We’d better stop; they will come up against us."
It’s no surprise because, to tell the truth, imagined enemies are often a whole lot worse than real ones. Imagined obstacles are a whole lot higher than real ones. When I was a teenager I used to ride my bicycle allover the east end of Louisville, but there was one hill I always avoided, because it looked so steep I thought I would never be able to climb it. But, you know, one day I just gritted my teeth and started up, and, you know what, I’m still hear to tell the tale! That obstacle was not nearly so tough as my imagination about it!
I miss the Bloom County comic strip. It canes out only once a week in a different form now. But I always enjoyed seeing Bloom County when it pictured young Milo’s anxiety closet. The anxiety closet was always full of horrible beasts and ten-horned monsters, ready to pounce and gobble him up. But somehow, every cartoon featuring the anxiety closet ended up with little Milo falling back to sleep, safe and sound. Imagined threats are always worse than real ones.
I’ve listened to some of us talk about discussions held in the past about what to do about our church property. And I’ve heard some say, "Well, the neighborhood might not like it if we do ministry in our houses." Or I’ve heard others say, "I suspect the historic preservation people wouldn’t let us build parking or tear down old houses or do this or do that." And I have to tell you that what I am hearing there is the fear of implied threats, the fear of potential ridicule. I hear us getting scared of the Sanballats out there who may not understand what we are about or who fear they are going to lose something.
But I tell you, imagined obstacles are worse than real ones, and threats from enemies are worse than their attacks. Their barks are worse than their bites. And those of us who would be Nehemiahs, those who would rebuild this city, those who would rebuild somebody’ s life, who would rebuild anything that is broken down, need to hear the powerful words of God’s builder, Nehemiah: "Do not be afraid of them. Remember the Lord, who is great and terrible, and fight for your brethren, your sons, your daughters, your wives, and your homes.””
"Do not be afraid …remember the Lord … and fight."
Why? Because with God, even the end is a beginning. Even the ashes of destruction provide our God with the material out of which to rebuild. Even the stench of death does not stop our God from renewing the life of His people.
Here at the Lord’s Table, we remember one whose life was cruelly snatched away. Of all of history’s hopeless causes, surely this is one of them. His teachings ignored, his example misunderstood and forgotten, his witness laughed at by Roman and by Jew. Ridiculed, slapped around, despised and rejected of men. The smoke of destruction swirled around His cross, and the nails pounded into his hands and feet seemed to fix: the end of his project. This was the end.
But with God, even the end is a beginning. Even the ashes of destruction provide our God with the material out of which to rebuild. Even the stench of death does not stop our God from renewing the life of His people.
And God has raised from the dead our Lord Jesus Christ, though the world said it could not be done. So come to this table and remember not only His death, but also His resurrection life. Remember that what God builds, though it be destroyed, He will raise again and clothe with new life. "Remember the Lord, who is great and terrible, and fight" … fight the war of the walls if you must; but our building God fights with you and will be victorious.
