Proof Through the Night

I don’t have a TV subscription or I would probably be entirely useless during the Olympic games.  I find stories of excellence, artistry, and triumph spell-binding.  In fact, I waste enough time as it is, watching the free videos of medal ceremonies or winning routines that can be found on-line.

As the national anthem is played–and usually the free postings are of Americans–the champions exhibit varying degrees of emotion.  Often tears slide out of their eyes as they attempt to sing the words to the song.  For most of them, it’s one-time event, representing thousands of hours of blood, sweat and tears.

With the tune of the national anthem fresh in my mind, I recalled the parodies a Canadian friend and I wrote as teenagers.  Somehow we got on the topic of bagels, and to my horror, she insisted that Canadian bagels were far superior to American ones.

Now, bagels were not a regular part of my diet, but despite my lack of experience with them, I could not endure the thought that the Canadian ones were better.  This lead to a full-fledged competition where we both wrote parodies of our national anthems to defend each country’s superior bagel.

With apologies to Canadian readers, I think I had an advantage from the beginning because of the superior poetry of Francis Scott Key’s work.  Beside the generalizations of “O Canada”, the opening stanza of “The Star-Spangled Banner” ripples with kinetic energy and suspense.

But as I remembered this childish competition and the faces of the gold medalists dissolving into tears in an unforgettable moment, I studied the words of the song.

Can you see? Is the flag still there? 

As a symbol of a sovereign country, a flag holds a meaning beyond it’s physical characteristics. That’s what the observer was asking… Is the country still alive and well?

And most likely, the Olympic trainees had asked themselves the same questions many times.  Is this worth it?  Will the Olympics ever really come?

Even though I am not fighting battles with rockets and warships or practicing at the gym for a competition, the Bible compares the Christian life both to the life of a soldier and a professional athlete. (“So run, that you may obtain”- I Cor. 9:24 or “The weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds”-II Cor 10:4, etc.)  The unseen warfare sizzling around the life of a Christian is something to make anyone stop in exhaustion to gasp for breath, like a swimmer exhausted from his daily laps or a gymnast pausing for a drink.   But in anything I have encountered, the number one incentive to keep on fighting in any situation is the unshaken conviction that God, who was with us before, is still with us.

We know God is with us, on paper. But like a tired athlete, or the soldiers in battle on that night in 1812, I find myself stopping occasionally to ask a friend, exhaustion overcoming us both, perhaps numb with shock at something that has just happened–

Can you see?  Is God still with us?  

If it’s my neighbor Mary, she chastises me, as I have told you before, with some such exasperated rant as, “Katrina! We’ve got to believe God!”

She’s not the only adviser I have run to, but they all remind me of the same truth in varying degrees of blunt-ness. These friends are like coaches, prodding me on to higher and higher stretches of faith as the difficulty level gets harder and harder, and the prospect of an victory seems so far away.

He’s still here. 

And perhaps most symbolic of all is the point Francis Scott Key made as he wrote these words: “And the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.”

How true it is, that the very battle with evil illuminates the truth that God is still there!  As we meet criticism or dishonesty, abuse or temptation, those very explosions of warfare draw us closer to God.   The attacks we face in life may be terrifying, exhausting, discouraging, confusing, and unsettling.  We may feel resignation, a desire to give up.

But then we read, “If I make my bed in hell, behold, you are there,” and suddenly, the very battle has given us a new appreciation for God’s presence.

Even if this experience feels like hell, God is still with me. 

As morning rises, the question is asked again, “O Say…”

Is the flag still waving?

The fact that it had been there the night before and through the night was not enough for the observers.  They had seen the flag not long ago, but they were questioning again.  Was it still there?

And so with us!  We may have seen God work last night, or even through the night, or through the long night of a long, difficult experience.

But by the dawn’s early light of each new day, we need to look to God again.  Not because He is doubtful, but because we are.  Not because He is tired, but because we are.  Not because He is wavering, but because we are.

He is always there, and He’s holding the medals.