What Do the Remnants Represent?

Unlike the many trails in Maine’s Acadia National Park, this one was not well marked and showed signs of neglect. Fallen branches covered many spots along the way and most of the path was reminiscent of a well-worn deer trail. We were here because I was curious. A National Park map revealed a small splotch of color that indicated park property. This spot was far removed from other areas of the park, and I hoped it would provide an off-the-beaten-pathway to a rocky cove familiar from my childhood. It was five decades since I had been in this location, and I could vaguely remember what it looked like. I recalled that in the area were the ruins of one of the famous “summer cottages.” These “cottages” harkened back to the late 1800’s when wealthy “rusticators” built magnificent mansions along the coast of Maine for their summer getaways from the heat and humidity of the stifling cities of the east coast.

                After scrambling through the woods, climbing over fallen trees and branches, we discovered a path that led in the direction of where I thought the cove would be. A few hundred yards down that path, we came upon the ruins of the foundation of the “cottage.” The footprint of the “cottage” was about the length of a basketball court. It was ringed by granite foundation stones that were interrupted by occasional brick archways which at one time must have served as lintels for basement windows. On one end of the ruins facing the cove, elaborate brickwork arranged in a herringbone fashion remained. My guess was that it was a porch or portico of some kind that must have looked over the cove and out into Frenchman’s Bay. The vista was now blocked by massive birches and pines and their overhanging branches. Stepping off the brickwork, we followed a series of massive granite steps. These descended sharply through tall trees leading us toward the distant sound of the ocean crashing on the rocks. Following the sound we finally broke out of the leafy canopy and stood on the rocky coast watching and listening to the waves. I wondered, “What did the remnants represent?” My imagination kicked in and I wondered about those who lived there. What activities took place there? Why had the place fallen into ruins when it was evidently such a wonderful place and in such a spectacular location?

                Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I discovered that the remnants represented a great deal. The ruins were of the home of George Dorr, who is often referred to as the Father of Acadia National Park. The building was indeed a magnificent three story “summer cottage” of the Queen Anne style built by Dorr's father in 1876-77. According to George Dorr, "It was the first house in Bar Harbor to be really well built; and well-built it was with nothing spared in work or material." Many influential political, social, and financial individuals of the late 19th and 20th centuries were frequent guests at this “cottage” called “The Old Farm.” It was here that the plans were made to preserve the land that now makes up the National Park. Dorr invested most of his private wealth to buy up lands to contribute to the Park; and when he died in 1944, his fortune had dwindled to almost nothing. He bequeathed his “cottage” and the property to the National Park Service. In 1951, the NPS determined that his home had lost its value and should be demolished because of disrepair. The ruins are a remnant of a wonderful place, where a rich history is connected, where a wonderful mission was launched, where a remarkable man lived, and where a later generation forgot what the place stood for and had it dismantled.

                Some parallels come to mind when I look upon some of the “spiritual remnants” I see in the religious landscape of the United States of America. I see the remnants that remain in some universities that reflect that there has been a dismantling of their former glory and purpose. For example, on many buildings around Harvard University you find the original motto of the university adopted in 1692, “Veritas Christo et Ecclesiae,” which translated from Latin means “Truth for Christ and the Church.” The remnants of the past reveal significant words. Do the realities of the current campus instruction reflect those aspirations?

                In numerous churches we see remnants of the past in creeds and confessions. They are being quickly abandoned and dismantled by misguided tolerance, quasi intellectualism, anemic faith, and fear-filled accommodation to transient cultural whims. Even churches with the word “Bible” in their name are often just a remnant of their former selves. Too often the Bible is not God’s Word to be revered, studied, and obeyed but simply another source to be considered as an option among options. If churches and Christians are but ruins of their former selves, would it be good to go back and ask, “What do these remnants mean?”

                In the Old Testament the leaders of a previous era wanted following generations to ask questions about the remnants they saw. An example of this is seen in Joshua 4:1-7. The idea was this; there are lessons in the remnants of the past that should serve as a reminder of how to live in the present. In the New Testament Paul says the remnants of the past are to act as examples and admonitions for those in the present (1 Corinthians 10:6, 11). Exploring the way God has worked enables us to explain how God works to a new generation.

                George Lucas of Star Wars fame observed, “Old stories have to be reiterated again in a form that's acceptable to each new generation. I don't think I'm ever going to go much beyond the old stories, because I think they still need to be told.” Do we too need to go back to the past and ask, “What do these remnants mean?” Perhaps there is a story to be remembered in the ruins of the past.

Be a Mountain Mover

This is the season when graduates endure one more lecture that stands between them and their diploma. Students march into the commencement ceremony preoccupied with closing this chapter of life, opening up a new one, and plunging into a fuzzy future filled with great expectations and disconcerting realities. Meanwhile, the commencement speaker looks at the graduates and realizes that the words he or she has carefully crafted and arranged to be memorable will, in all likelihood, soon be forgotten. In fact one recent commencement speaker mused that most graduates will not even remember who spoke at their ceremony.

            If I had been asked to speak to graduates this year, even knowing what I said would likely be forgotten, I would encourage them to “be a mountain mover.” That phrase is embedded in a quote from an unknown source that wisely said, “Don't tell God how Big your storm is; tell the storm how Big your God is. Keep your eyes on the Lord and see Him magnify His power in you. With faith in your heart, you will move mountains. When fear fills your heart, mountains will move you. Be a mountain mover.” Perhaps graduates will not remember a speech while clouded by the emotion of the moment, but they might remember a phrase like “be a mountain mover.”

            This year I see large “mountains” looming before our nation. Economically we are operating by a financial delusion that supposes that our debts are never due. Morally the nation functions without a spiritual compass and celebrates how fast change is occurring while disregarding where the change is leading us. Emotionally people are deluded into assuming that, since there is a pill to mask discontentment and despair in life, then we must be happy regardless of nagging suspicions that things are otherwise. Spiritually people hunger for something to fill the God-shaped void in their lives and assume that by cramming empty ritual and euphoric experimentalism into that chasm their souls will be satiated. These mountains loom on the horizon of this year’s graduates as an imposing wall. How will the mountains be faced?

            In 1 Samuel 14 we see two men react to the “mountain” they faced called the Philistines. The situation was desperate. The army of the Philistines was a massive army of thousands (13:5), and Saul’s army had melted away to mere hundreds (13:15). Compounding this was the fact that the ragtag army of Saul was ill equipped to face the hostile forces with “neither sword nor spear found in the hand of any of the people who were with Saul and Jonathan” except for the one Saul and Jonathan had (13:22). By any measurement, Saul and his son, Jonathan faced an enemy of “mountainous” proportions.

            The responses of Saul and Jonathan were vastly different. Saul was paralyzed into almost a catatonic state of despair as he focused upon the well-equipped and massive army of the Philistines. Thus, he sat down under a tree awaiting the inevitable annihilation in battle. His son Jonathan, in contrast, advanced toward the enemy with just one man and his sword (14:6). What made the difference? It was a matter of focus. In contrast to Saul’s focus, Jonathan’s is expressed in his words to his armor bearer, “Come, let us go over to the garrison of these Philistines; it may be that the Lord will work for us. For nothing restrains the Lord from saving us by many or by few” (14:6). To put it another way, let’s see how God will move this “mountain.” Jonathan was confident of how big his God really was. The outcome and the rest of the story are summarized in (14:23), “So the Lord saved Israel that day.”

            Graduates of 2013 face looming “mountains” of challenge. The media daily adds layers of gloom to already bleak prospects. The question that this year’s graduates and indeed all of us must answer is what will we focus upon? If we limit our view to our resources, abilities, power, and wisdom, then perhaps things are not too hopeful. However, there is an alternate focus. What can the Lord do if we rely upon His wisdom, power, and intervention? Moving out by faith as Jonathan did may be the very catalyst God wants to use to “move a mountain” in our nation.  

            The biggest mountain that needed to be moved has already been moved. On the cross Jesus Christ took away the “mountain” of separation between God and man and offered his work to be a gift we take by faith. The Apostle Paul concluded confidently, “What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” In other words, “If he has moved the biggest mountain, can’t He move the rest?” This certainly should encourage us to be mountain movers! 

Enough is Enough

Looking at the events of history one often observes times when it appears that the hinges of history turn. In the United States, the Boston Tea Party led by the Sons of Liberty on December 16, 1773, was one such point. There a group of tax protesters turned Boston Harbor into a salty “pot” of tea. More recently in China the hinge of history turned at the Student Protest at Tiananmen Square on April 21, 1989. On that day 100,000 students gathered at Beijing's Tiananmen Square to commemorate deposed reform-minded leader of the Communist Party Hu Yaobang. The event unleashed voices of discontent against China's authoritative communist government. Ultimately, this led to the June massacres of demonstrators by Chinese troops and the arrest of thousands of protesters and other dissidents. But this also led to a reform movement that is still underway. The picture of students standing defiantly before massive tanks is etched in minds of many around the world, and especially the citizens of China. Throughout history it seems there comes a time when people come to the point of exasperation and say, “Enough is enough!”

            One is never really sure of all of the ingredients that provoked such protests. We tend to focus upon the catalyst that ignited the historical flash point. However, we realize the Boston Tea Party was about more than taxed tea. The protest in Tiananmen Square was about more than a deposed reform-minded leader. There was a “back-story” to these events where the hinges of history turned. How much does it take for people to get to the point where they break into a no-holds-barred protest?

            Dotting the pages of Scripture there are points in time when God concluded that enough is enough. Consider the days of Noah when a time came where the judgment of God fell (Genesis 6). In the days of Abraham a time came when God looked at the peoples of Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 19) and determined that enough was enough. In the days of Moses the hinges of history turned as the judgment of God fell on Egypt (Exodus 7-11). In all of these cases and many more, there was a point in time when God acted. Could God have acted earlier? Certainly. Could He have waited longer? If He wanted to. The point is we do not know the “back-story” like God does.

            Peter seems to address this in 2 Peter 3. People were criticizing, challenging, and even ridiculing the possibility of God intervening and changing history at a point in time. The particular issue at hand had to do with the “return of Christ.” These scoffers were bold enough to conclude that the course of history would not and could not be altered by God. They snidely concluded that “all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation” (verse 4). Peter points out that such people have forgotten history (verse 5-6) and do not realize that God alone controls its course. God specifically knows the point in history when the hinges of history will turn one last time as He carries out His just judgment against those who are in rebellion against Him and His will (verse 7).

            The question Peter then answers is about the seeming delay of Christ’s return and His just judgment. Is God a “slacker?” No, God is merciful. Peter writes, “The Lord… is longsuffering toward us, not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance” (verse 9). Part of the “back-story” of God not closing the door of history relates to His character. He is longsuffering. He is provides time for repentance to occur until He finally says, “Enough is enough.”

            The Psalmist wrote a song to commemorate the Lord who “is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in mercy,” adding, “He has not dealt with us according to our sins, nor punished us according to our iniquities” (103:8, 10). The Psalmist adds a stern reminder, “He will not always strive with us, nor will He keep His anger forever” (103:9). I suppose one might conclude from the Psalmist’s insights, “In His mercy he has not yet said, ‘Enough is enough.’ But He will.”

            In contrast with my Heavenly Father, I recall my Dad and his level of patience with a hyper-energetic son. Sunday in our Irish home was to be a day of rest and quiet. My Dad worked a six-day work-week as a manager for the Acme Markets and was justly exhausted when Sunday came. He announced on numerous occasions that he wanted to enjoy some “peace and quiet” on Sunday afternoon. I knew what he wanted; however, there were those occasions when my energy seemed to exceed my capacity for compliance. After a few energy outbursts echoed through our home, suddenly the Sunday newspaper that had lain on his lap as he napped, was flung into the air and I was in the grip of an Irishman that had woken out of his Sunday afternoon hibernation. Without going into details, judgment fell swiftly! It was just. I knew what was expected. I had violated his “Sunday afternoon law.”

            In my life I have done much more than violated God’s will. I have been defiant in doing so. How thankful I am that my Heavenly Father has responded to me with longsuffering mercy and grace. He did not dismiss His will because of my rebellion, but He gave me the opportunity to repent. There will come a point in time when God looks at rebellious humanity and say, “Enough is enough.” That hinge in history will come. It has not yet. However, it could happen at any time. In view of the inevitable, wouldn’t it be wise both personally and nationally to heed Peter’s words and “come to repentance?”