Chrysostom
Beloved of All
In the midst of such upheaval, when the earth itself trembles and death stalks in broad daylight, we flee to the words of the psalmist, and we flee rightly: God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Yet let us not suppose that confessing this with our lips is enough; the soul must be nailed down by the fear of God, so that no calamity, however sudden or severe, can overturn it. For as the oak that sends its roots deep into the earth cannot be torn up by any wind, so the soul that is riveted by holy fear and continues in Christ’s word is a true disciple. The truth, He says, shall make you free, free from the tyranny of despair, free from the bondage of terror, free from the sin that so easily entangles when the foundations seem destroyed. But this freedom belongs only to those who do not simply hear His sayings and then go away, but put them into practice. The house built upon the rock of obedience does not collapse when the floods come, because its foundation is the living God, not shifting circumstance.
Look at what has fallen: a cathedral tower cracked, a hospital’s pediatric wing in ruins, entire blocks flattened. These visible things were never the Church’s true strength. The Church is the pillar and ground of the truth, and that truth remains unshaken though every stone edifice be leveled. It is the truth after godliness, acknowledged not by reasonings but by faith, faith that knows God is a rewarder, even when reward is hidden from human eyes. Enoch walked with God and was translated so that he should not see death, and yet he had no visible proof of the resurrection. He believed in the face of what seemed contrary, and this pleased God. So now, when every sight testifies of destruction, we hold fast that the Lord is neither absent nor indifferent. The multiplication of wickedness and the cold love of many are themselves part of the birth pangs that must precede the end; we are not to be alarmed, as if these things had fallen outside His governance.
The prayer for laborers to be sent forth, medical teams, comforters, preachers, is a holy prayer. Let them go, not only with bandages and shelter, but with the same fervent faith the centurion showed when he sought healing for his servant. Christ then declared His power and rewarded that faith. Now also, let the relief workers be people of a pure conscience, serving not for earthly praise but because they are citizens of heaven. Such a clear conscience becomes a surpassing comfort and even a crown in the midst of danger. For though they endure countless hardships, if their testimony is that they act for what is well-pleasing to God, they are not merely helping bodies, they are proclaiming Christ’s power and preparing souls for eternity. The love of God is not a weak sentiment; it is the hand that binds up wounds, the word that silences lies, the presence that guards the young and the aged when walls can no longer protect.
Do not then let your hearts be troubled, as though heaven’s care had failed. These groanings of creation are a summons to penitence, to much prayer, to endurance and perseverance, for each one of us has need of these if we are to attain the good things promised. The mysteries we partake, the name we bear, demand a reverential mind. Let no one envy those who appear untouched, nor revile the fallen. Do you see neighborhoods reduced to twisted steel? There is a deeper ruin in the soul that refuses to repent. So build now, while the day of opportunity remains, with the materials that endure: faith that works through love, hope that anchors beyond the grave, and a conscience sprinkled clean by the blood of Christ. Draw near in full assurance, for He who promised is faithful. Even now, when the mountains seem carried into the sea, He is calling us to be His hands, His voice, His witnesses. Then, having done all, we shall stand, and the peace that passes understanding shall guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
Look at what has fallen: a cathedral tower cracked, a hospital’s pediatric wing in ruins, entire blocks flattened. These visible things were never the Church’s true strength. The Church is the pillar and ground of the truth, and that truth remains unshaken though every stone edifice be leveled. It is the truth after godliness, acknowledged not by reasonings but by faith, faith that knows God is a rewarder, even when reward is hidden from human eyes. Enoch walked with God and was translated so that he should not see death, and yet he had no visible proof of the resurrection. He believed in the face of what seemed contrary, and this pleased God. So now, when every sight testifies of destruction, we hold fast that the Lord is neither absent nor indifferent. The multiplication of wickedness and the cold love of many are themselves part of the birth pangs that must precede the end; we are not to be alarmed, as if these things had fallen outside His governance.
The prayer for laborers to be sent forth, medical teams, comforters, preachers, is a holy prayer. Let them go, not only with bandages and shelter, but with the same fervent faith the centurion showed when he sought healing for his servant. Christ then declared His power and rewarded that faith. Now also, let the relief workers be people of a pure conscience, serving not for earthly praise but because they are citizens of heaven. Such a clear conscience becomes a surpassing comfort and even a crown in the midst of danger. For though they endure countless hardships, if their testimony is that they act for what is well-pleasing to God, they are not merely helping bodies, they are proclaiming Christ’s power and preparing souls for eternity. The love of God is not a weak sentiment; it is the hand that binds up wounds, the word that silences lies, the presence that guards the young and the aged when walls can no longer protect.
Do not then let your hearts be troubled, as though heaven’s care had failed. These groanings of creation are a summons to penitence, to much prayer, to endurance and perseverance, for each one of us has need of these if we are to attain the good things promised. The mysteries we partake, the name we bear, demand a reverential mind. Let no one envy those who appear untouched, nor revile the fallen. Do you see neighborhoods reduced to twisted steel? There is a deeper ruin in the soul that refuses to repent. So build now, while the day of opportunity remains, with the materials that endure: faith that works through love, hope that anchors beyond the grave, and a conscience sprinkled clean by the blood of Christ. Draw near in full assurance, for He who promised is faithful. Even now, when the mountains seem carried into the sea, He is calling us to be His hands, His voice, His witnesses. Then, having done all, we shall stand, and the peace that passes understanding shall guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
