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One hundred and twelve years ago the air was clear and the sea was calm.
There was no moon that night and visibility was low. There was no threat of trouble ahead.
On April 14, 1912, the sharp edge of an iceberg tore a 300-foot-long gash along the mighty and reinforced hull of the RMS Titanic.
At first, nobody on board suspected a thing.
The pleasant conviviality continued uninterrupted among the privileged and powerful lounging unconcerned on the upper nine decks. The danger, though real and immediate, went unnoticed among the passengers. It was a glancing blow, described as “slight” and there was a low “rumble.”
The Titanic was constructed using the latest technology and strongest materials to insure a design that would render the largest passenger ship in the world “virtually unsinkable.” Captain Edward J. Smith was said to have declared in an interview that “God himself couldn’t sink her.”
Two hours and 40 minutes following its icy collision, on its maiden voyage, the Titanic lay in two pieces, a half mile apart, on the bottom of the ocean, more than two miles beneath the waves of the frigid North Atlantic. An estimated 1,517 souls perished on that quiet night more than a century ago.
The iconic tragedy wasn’t anticipated. It wasn’t prepared for. It wasn’t even imagined. There weren’t enough lifeboats. After all, the Titanic was “virtually unsinkable.”
If only the danger had been realized sooner. Perhaps more lives could have been saved. Instead, the deadly blow was struck at night, insidious and unseen beneath the dark water. By the time the passengers learned of it many of their fates had already been sealed.
There wasn’t an explosion. There was no flashing light or deafening thunder to give warning. Just a quiet sinking of the proud majestic vessel in which all had placed their unquestioning trust.
So subtle and serene above the sea, so deadly and turbulent beneath. To those on board, nothing had changed. In reality, everything had changed, but its invisibility was no threat to the laughter and gaiety.
Things often change gradually, imperceptibly; not all at once, but over time. That’s especially true of nations. The barometers of politics, education, economics, religion, and morality move deliberately but slowly. National erosion, as with the soil, goes often unnoticed. Like the frog sitting in the pot of heating water, you and are surrounded daily with cultural and moral subtleties.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day”—and it took much longer than that for it to fall.
In Albany, New York, Assemblyman Charles Lavine introduced a bill to repeal the state’s 1907 anti-adultery law. The ban on marital infidelity hadn’t been enforced in years, and even then, seldom. Lavine said the law “doesn’t serve as a deterrent.” Then he smiled and added:
“It’s a celebration of someone’s concept of their own morality.”
That Someone would be God. The Ten Commandments, despite the silly legal battles over posting them on a schoolroom wall or a village green, haven’t been invoked in a very long time. Millions ignore them daily. In a civilization moving on an increasingly permissive path, the ten divine directives seem almost an archaic irrelevancy that went out with the Scopes monkey trial in 1925.
No transformation in American society has been more pronounced, profound, or controversial than the shift in sexual attitudes and mores. The issues of abortion, marriage, homosexuality, pornography, sexual abuse, and now transgenderism are emblematic of a fundamental redefinition of sexual morality. Part of man’s declaration of independence from God.
It didn’t happen overnight. It’s been subtle, clever—and highly effective.
“Vice is a monster of so frightful mean,” wrote Alexander Pope, “as to be hated needs but to be seen; yet seen too oft, familiar with her face; we first endure, then pity, then embrace.”
Is this not true of nearly every major institution of American life? We’ve come to accept corruption with such cynical dismissal that even, as Christians, we’ve rationalized what would have been unthinkable just a generation before.
Beware the gradual shift.
In attitude, language, behavior and values, we’ve often betrayed the most important and best part of what makes us a great and noble people. Our character. Our integrity. Our honesty.
For Christians, is Jesus still our example? In these dark, combustible, and difficult times, are you and I still prepared to walk in his steps? Faithfully? Or will we succumb to the popular and convincing appeals of fear, anger, and hate? Will we surrender to the latest fad, the most recent “right”, and the most convincing poll?
“God called you to do good,” wrote the apostle Peter, “even if it means suffering . . .Christ is your example, and you must follow in his steps” (I Peter 2:21).
As public attitudes gradually shift on religion and morals away from biblical beliefs, many Christians, including evangelical leaders, seem increasing unwilling to take a principled stand that would be controversial or challenge the new moral orthodoxy.
Militant activism, across the ideological spectrum, has done its share of well-strategized intimidation and many of us find silent accommodation easier—and safer.
Our deepening divisions and the rising tide of secularism have made thoughtful debate difficult. Many medical professionals, for example, have raised legitimate concerns about the medical and psychological impact of gender dysphoria and how best to respond to it.
These concerns now compete with the full politicization of transgenderism. Practical health concerns, especially as they affect children, are dismissed and ignored in favor of political correctness.
Will we surrender our children to be emasculated for the cause of sexual adventurism?
You and I must stand for justice. For life. For our families. For our children. We must stand for righteousness. We must conquer our inner temptation to be like the world in order to be liked by the world.
We must love our neighbor as we love ourselves.
In this we live for Jesus Christ and him alone.
In this world.
May God bless you and your family.
In His Grace,
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