This past Sunday afternoon our church celebrated God’s goodness to us. We did not flood this past summer, but we easily could have. Here, slightly edited, are the words I spoke. The scriptures I quote are lightly edited from Psalm 93:
“The LORD reigns, He is clothed with majesty; the LORD is clothed, He has girded Himself with strength. Surely the world is established, so that it cannot be moved. [His] throne is established from of old; [He is] from everlasting.”
If you wanted to sum that up, you could go with the old song “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.” And we are glad He does. We’re glad our God has everything established, figured out, and under control.
Back in May, who knew that flooding was going to define our summer? Well, God did. The rest of us, not so much. Around here, we started talking about it on a Wednesday night, I think May 18th. I had seen something about a flood threat on the news that night, and I mentioned it during prayer meeting. I can remember a couple of people looked concerned, but I think most of us thought it wouldn’t amount to much.
Boy, did that change. Here’s how it was:
As the threat grew, a count of our church’s people showed we had 5 families who might lose their homes, and 2 who would lose their jobs as well. (We have about 20 members, and attendance runs around 40.) Maps published on the internet along with some quick measuring indicated that we could have as much as two feet of water in the church auditorium for at least weeks, if not months. We never did appreciate the effect that the water would have had, because for some reason we never considered that it would be flowing, not standing, water. I think there wouldn’t have been much recognizable or usable left on our property.
What seemed a little crazy that Wednesday night turned into reality within just a few weeks. Prayers for no more rain, helicopters in the night, mayors who had no trouble sleeping, meaningless meetings with officials, a prayer meeting that turned into an inventory night, hymnals that were boxed up, a near obsession for more information, many trips with boxes (of hymnals and other stuff), and a lot of other frustrating and sometimes frightening moments were all part of those days.
There were emails with representatives from our church fellowship, a “pastoral” visit from a dear friend who is now the president of a Bible College, and an evening spent with the director of Baptist Builder’s Club, calmly taking pictures of the property and eating Italian while talking over what we could do if the church lost everything.
I spent time trying to figure out how to respond sensibly and in a godly manner without overreacting. I canceled a series of sermons from Malachi in favor of some comfort from Isaiah.
I gave two of the most difficult parental lectures in my life, telling my visiting daughters that if the levee broke they were to get their babies in their cars and get out to high ground as quickly as they could, no hesitation. Don’t worry about us, just get the babies out.
In a word, and to be honest, it was terrible. We cried, we raged, we fretted, and we prayed. That’s how it was. And here’s what we did:
Our church ran the best VBS we’ve had in recent history – staffed mostly by people who left homes that were “up the hill” to come to what had begun to feel like a dangerous place. VBS was made greater, I think, by the fact the children to whom we ministered were even more poorly equipped to face the threat than we were.
We collected water and mops and rubber gloves and other needed items and gave them away, trusting they would be helpful to others more needy than ourselves, and knowing that the day might come when we would wish we had them back. I’d love to know if any of those items ended up helping family, friends, and sister churches back east, where unexpected flooding has wreaked horrible havoc.
We reached out to each other. Every person in the church who was at risk received support and help from other church members, I believe.
We were taught by the good people that are Temple Baptist Church of Omaha – we were taught what fellowship is. They comforted us by making space available for storage, as well as for meetings if we had needed it. One of our people told my wife, “I could handle losing my home and my stuff, but I don’t think I could handle losing my church.” The folks from Temple had real, tangible ministry to us. We learned from them and were blessed by them. We cannot repay, but we know that our God keeps the records and sees to it that all debts are finally made right.
One couple in the church here had special ministry to Jan and I. They opened their home for us to live in if we had needed it and gave meaningful, caring advice more than once. They stored some of our things that couldn’t go to Temple, and they did it all while living through their own personal crisis and receiving less-than-nominal pastoral care. Great folks.
A number of times I stood in the pulpit and told the church what I thought we should do. I shared the actions that seemed necessary to me, and promised everyone that if there was no flood we would have a party, we would sing “God Leads Us Along,” and they could laugh at me for being too excitable. And so this past Sunday we ate together, and sang the song, and nobody laughed at me, as far as I know. The flood could have so easily happened, and I have very few regrets even with hindsight. I’d do it the same way if I had it to do over.
And we looked each week at the words of 2 Chronicles 20:12: “O our God, … we do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon You.”
So what did God do as we kept our eyes on Him? Well, the song we sang says it – He led us along. The church had already faced the fire years ago. Now it has faced the flood. And the scriptures say it – God showed Himself faithful, and great, and good.
He held back the waters. The politicians didn’t save our church, the National Guard didn’t save us, the millions of dollars spent didn’t save us, our personal and corporate preparations didn’t save us, not even the levee saved us. God saved us. “The floods lifted up their voice; the floods lift up their waves.” And God saved us.
Fifty-two years ago a small group of common people banded together to form a church. And someone wisely decided to call it “Faith.” Here’s part of the reason it’s a good name for us: if it had gone differently – if we had flooded – some things would have been the same. There would have been a meeting when I stood before my church (maybe even on October 2nd), but it would have been in a different room in a different building. We might or might not have sung “God Leads Us Along,” but regardless of that, there is no doubt that God would have led us. We easily might have had to vote to dissolve our church, but we would not have lost our faith.
And even if it had happened that way, I still would have told my people, although with more tears, that God had showed Himself faithful, and great, and good. Because He is.
We at Faith Baptist Church are small and weak and often unnoticed and not particularly successful by most standards. But our God is great and powerful, and He has helped us, and He chose not leave us to the water. We have seen, and learned, and by faith we know, that “the LORD on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, than the mighty waves of the sea.”
And we know that His “testimonies are very sure;”
“May holiness adorn His house forever.”
way to make me cry.