A neighbor lady, a dear friend and a fine Christian woman, stopped by this afternoon, still fuming about a sermon a friend had heard this morning.  It seems the pastor had taken this occasion of great national mourning and had exploited it by outlining our major national sins and calling the nation to repentance.  Well, I'll have you know that many in the congregation did not appreciate this at all!  And many left without the warm, fuzzy feeling that they had come for. 

    On a local radio talk show I once heard an announcer use the expression "pray to gosh," because he obviously did not want to use the word "God" and offend some listener's delicate religious sensitivities.  And so the congregations of too many churches have demanded that God be turned to "Gosh," a soft, warm, spiritual teddy bear that cuddles and soothes but never corrects; always there like an emotional band-aid when you fall and scrape your little ego. Woe be to the pastor that tries to push Gosh from his throne and preach the God of Israel!  He will be sent packing.  And so the words of Isaiah echo down 2700 years to us, for our nation is a "rebellious people, lying children, children that will not hear the law of the Lord:  Who say to the seers, 'See not,' and to the prophets, 'Prophecy not to us right things, speak to us smooth things, prophesy deceits: Withdraw from the way, turn aside from the path, cause the Holy One of Israel to cease from before us.' "

    Earlier in the day, I was able to catch a few minutes of an interview with Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson.  I came in as the interviewer was berating both for suggesting that it was America's sinful behavior that had brought this misery down upon us.  Now I'll make it clear that I am not a particular fan of either one of these gentlemen, but like the stopped clock that is right twice a day, Pat and Jerry just happened to be on the mark this time. And, as we must learn quickly, in war one takes allies where one finds them. 

    To be fair, I'm sure the interviewer, exhausted from long hours, was mostly disappointed that he didn't get the warm set up he expected for the saccharine, tear jerking story of a loved one lost beneath the rubble that followed. And so it is that television has come to define the reality of life.  The TV take on the story is that noble and righteous America, bloodied and shaken, goes to worship and finds solace in her faith and flag.  God's on our side, all's right with the world.  Pretty girls wave flags and chant "USA! USA!"  Red White and Blue lines every street, with residents wondering if perhaps their display might make the 11 o'clock news.  And so war becomes like the Olympics with blood, and cheers go up as if we'd drawn Afghanistan in basketball.  Osama Bin Laden becomes the new national villain and TV says: "Focus your hatred here. Here is the source of the problem." And so near eastern Americans are abused and TV sadly shakes its head and wonders why, though they're pretty sure it is fundamentalist Christians in back of it.

    What is always significant about television is the story that goes untold.  Two hijacked jetliners hit the World Trade Center, and one the wrong side of the Pentagon.  Another crashes in Pennsylvania, allegedly enroute to the US Capital.  We were told that the president was shuttled around the country and finally deposited in Nebraska because of a plot to bring down Air Force 1. And so the attack, grim as it was, was still less than half successful.  The intent was clearly not only to destroy the nation's seat of commerce, but the seat of government as well. And the story that goes untold is this:  Had this assault been fully realized, and the nation's military command center destroyed instead of the side of the Pentagon undergoing renovations, and had the president and both houses of Congress been killed, the dilemma we face today would pale in comparison.  And the question that must go unasked is, "who could have filled such a void?"  The possibilities are just simply too frightening, so TV will never tell us that as we swat at our terrorist mosquitos, the dragon watches and waits.

    So tribulation comes crashing into New York and Washington and catches us unawares.  Our apostate nation goes to church like it's some kind of favor to God then retreats to the living room for an afternoon of cheering for war, since football won't be back until next week and the new fall shows haven't started yet.  And, for good measure, the vast majority of Christians have no clue that our faith is about to undergo a testing that will have us longing for the days of Nero.

    Brothers and sisters, the harvest is great, our fields are sewn with tares, and the laborers are few.