new church life: september / october 2013
After the American and French Revolutions, British statesman Edmund
Burke, who supported the cause of freedom, said: “The effect of liberty is that
men may do whatever they please. We should wait to see what it pleases them
to do before we risk congratulations.”
It is doubtful if Burke, the American founding fathers, or any of the great
leaders of the past, would be in a congratulatory mood when they survey the
state of the world and how far both leaders and citizens have strayed from
bedrock religious principles. But Burke had it right. With our natural freedom
– and especially with our spiritual freedom – we always are free to make
choices. Those choices define us. And those choices have consequences – for
good or evil.
As we despair over the state of the world, our country and our culture, we
are comforted by the knowledge that the Lord’s providence is in every facet
of our lives, leading to good. So we may feel confident that the Lord’s laws
of permission and Divine providence are very much at play on world and
national stages as well. As with our own lives, we cannot stand with our hands
hanging at our sides, feeling powerless or without hope in the course of our
countries. We are to be engaged in the process, following the Lord and keeping
Him always with us.
The American Declaration of Independence concludes with the famous
pledge of the signers: “With a firm reliance on the protection of Divine
providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our
sacred honor.” They knew what they were building, and that with God’s help
this bold experiment in government by “we the people” would not fail.
Early in his commentary, Mr. Jungé says to all of us – no matter our
nationality: “If our efforts are inspired by God and guided by His laws, then
undaunted, we can go forward with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine
providence.”
(BMH)
‘a watch without a mainspring’
Henry Ford was a practical, down-to-earth sort of fellow, who from early
childhood had a passion for machines and mechanisms of all kinds. As a boy
he taught himself to take a watch apart and put it back together again.
He was not given to lyrical expressions, but when he reminisced about
the death of his mother, who died when he was just 12 years old, he said
something quite poetic to explain how he felt about her loss. Drawing upon
his childhood experience tinkering with watches, he said: “The house was like
a watch without a mainspring.”
I read that recently and thought what a powerful image it is. It could be
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