I have a favorite sermon illustration; I discovered it about 15 years ago.  It may not be the best sermon illustration you’ll ever hear or the most important; it’s just that I remember the excitement I felt when I stumbled upon it.  It opened for me a window into the wisdom of our tradition, and the challenge of being a person of faith, especially when we live through anxious times.  I was visiting a friend at a house on a lake, when one morning I picked up a copy of National Geographic from the coffee table.  It was in the early 2000s, when so many in my generation had come to see September 11, 2001 as a defining moment in history and in our lives, and on the day I opened the National Geographic I read an article that began like this:
“As the new century began, an epidemic of terrorism spread panic around the globe. In world capitals, leaders fortified their security and curtailed public appearances. Ordinary citizens felt unsafe walking the streets of major cities, while the terrorists themselves were like phantoms—everywhere and nowhere at the same time, seemingly able to strike at will. Terrorism became the preoccupation of police and politicians, bankers and business leaders. Headlines screamed out news of the latest outrage: “WASHINGTON STUNNED BY THE TRAGEDY” in one paper; “IN GREAT PERIL” in another. One horrific September terrorist attack, in the United States, sent the stock market reeling and sparked anti-immigrant sentiment. Another attack, in Madrid, plunged Spanish politics into turmoil over issues of war and peace. Politicians in the U.S. took to describing the war on terror as a struggle of good versus evil, while some religious leaders, quoting scripture, proclaimed the end of the world was at hand.
The year was 1901.”  (National Geographic, November 2004, p.76)
The article went on to recount the political assassinations of Czar Alexander II and President William McKinley, the attempt on the life of French president Sadi Carnot, and the eventual terrorist assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, the spark that ignited World War I. Terrorism—and the bitter fear it generates—the author argued, is nothing new.
Here’s what I heard when I read that article:  People often want you to believe that the world is getting better or the world is getting worse, but the reality is that many things are staying the same.  Whether its preaching, op-ed writing, political speeches, or just conversation, so much of persuasion is built on hope that everything is getting better or fear that everything is coming apart.  But I believe that the arc of history and the story of faith suggests something else, something that may at first seem less motivational but I still believe this wisdom to be true for those who are willing to struggle with it:  That the world has always been full of terrible evil as well as tremendous good, great blessings and horrible bad luck, war and peace, good presidents and bad ones, strong economies and recessions, joy and pain.  But in the grand arc of history, human beings mostly stay the same.  And the challenge of faith is to not be frightened by the fearmongers or duped by illusions that all our troubles are behind us, but to keep your cool, trust God, and still to get up each day ready to do the right thing.
There’s a Bible story I want to tell you today, a story for today and for all times; it is foundational to understanding the story of God.  It appears at the end of the Book of Joshua.  After receiving the Law and wandering in the wilderness for 40 years, the Hebrews have finally made their way to the Promised Land.  On the surface of things, you would assume that things are going well.  But trouble is at the door, for the people have become lazy in their faith.  They are not observing their religious practices, which means they are also missing its reminders to take care of one another.  They have forgotten who they are, and are worshipping other gods—idols.  It is at this time that Joshua, God’s chosen leader for them, calls the elders of the tribes together and he puts a choice before them, a choice that becomes a famous turn of phrase in Scripture:  “choose this day whom you will serve…” he says, “but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”  The idea is simple, and even though our culture lacks the same idols, the message is as relevant today as ever:  do not put your faith in the false gods of this world:  in a president or party, the state of the stock market, the latest self-help trend or the escapism you can find in a drug or a drink.  None of these fleeting and temporary fixes will help you to find peace in the midst a stormy world; the only way is to place your trust in God.  God is the one who is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and will be there when all of the idols pass into oblivion and when the troubles of today are but a distant memory.
So Joshua asked them, “choose this day whom you will serve…”  They nodded their heads, but soon many of them walked away.  We know that because later in scripture, when things really fell apart, people look back and say, “See, see, we didn’t listen when Joshua tried to call us to account, we stopped listening to God and caring for one another.”  We also know that people walked away because, let’s face it, faith isn’t a very attractive offer.
This story an argument about faith vs. idolatry, and idolatry is one of those biblical ideas that often feels judgmental or irrelevant or worse.  Idols, whether ancient statues or the modern versions, represent power, wealth, or influence, escapism or comfort, easy tangible answers.  So in the Bible, idols are represented by gold, armies, power and accolades, the seduction of physical beauty, and natural metaphors like plants that will grow without soil or water (otherwise known as weeds).  Faith, on the other hand, is characterized by other metaphors:  deeply-rooted seed that is planted in rich soil, the bread of life and the cup of salvation that fills our souls, and living water that never leaves us thirsty.  Faith has no such quick fix or easy attraction.  Faith is the stuff of wisdom gained with trial and error, practice and patience.  Some days it tastes like a feast, but other days it tastes like the crumbs swept from the floor.  We cannot control it; our friends and neighbors often believe it to be nonsense, it will almost never help you get ahead.  Imagine how crazy they must have thought Joshua to be when he gathered them together at Shechem and claimed:  “choose this day whom you will serve…but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”
Another problem with faith is what it demands of us.  I realize when I suggest that things are staying the same, it might sound as if I’m inviting you to ignore the world and its needs, as if what you do doesn’t matter, but that is NOT what I am suggesting.  For the ancient Hebrews, trusting God and following God’s law meant loving God and loving one’s neighbor.  It meant spiritual wholeness and justice and compassion for the world.  And the very same is true for us.  Loving God today means that you DO care what’s going on in Palestine and Israel; you DO care about public policies that care for the poor and create opportunities for all people; you DO give of yourself generously as a way of loving God, because, as Jesus said it, “when you did it to the least of these, you did it to me.”  This way of living is inconvenient and time consuming and requires daily, lifelong commitment.  Why would anyone do it?
Well, here’s one idea:  Many of us look around in the world and see momentous problems and immense suffering and it threatens to paralyze us and make us want to give up.  The only way to keep going is to ask God for the strength to keep on going, keep on caring, and keep on loving.  When we remember that God is the one holding our anxieties with us, we can find the peace we need to keep going in the world—the peace that comes from no idol, no quick fix, no earthly possession you cannot take with you, nothing else and nothing less than God.
I’m going to make a confession:  that there is plenty that I’m nervous about these days as I read the newspaper, think about the future of our country, or imagine the horrific events taking place in some of the world’s most desperate places.  I am often unsure of how best to respond.  But on my better days…I remember the promise of our tradition that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and I remember the challenge of Joshua to choose whom I will serve.  Our culture is overwhelmed by voices of fear, and quick fixes that do not last.  I want something more.  Faith invites people to act sacrificially on behalf of justice, to give generously, to listen patiently to learn about those who are different, to commit to a way of life that has no easy answers and many big questions.  On my better days I want that life.
Rev. David Annett:  Today in an act of worship, you join our staff as one of our installed pastors; it won’t change your day-to-day life and responsibilities dramatically, but it is a designation that is appropriate and overdue for someone who has already done so much ministry here at Knox.
I once read that there is really only one significant difference between pastors and everyone else in the church.  Pastors make a commitment to let other people watch us as we struggle.  Whether it is in the pulpit or in a one-on-one meeting, or teaching at Knox Youth Group, we do our best work when we allow people to watch us struggle as we try to understand what God is up to in the world.
Dave, many days I do not know how best to do this work; I’m sure the same is true for you.  But today, as we hear this story of Joshua who invites the tribes to renew their covenant with God, it gives me a chance to renew an invitation to you, and to all of us gathered here.  Join me on my better days; and join me on the rest of the days when we are unsure, or frustrated or afraid, let us encourage one another:  to work together as we place our trust in God, love one another, and discover what it means to truly serve the Lord.
What I do know is this… No matter what this season of life brings, Knox Presbyterian Church will need to do God’s work: to serve those in need, to give sacrificially, to provide care for those who are struggling in body and in spirit, to worship God and remind the world of beauty and truth, and to never abandon the big, troublesome questions of faith in favor of the easy idolatries that surround us.  Only in holding to our faith, only in serving the Lord, will we find peace in the storm.  We will go together.  Amen.