What faith do we confess with our lives and words?  Two weeks ago in a sermon I talked of André Trocmé, a pastor of the French Reformed Church, who served the parish of Le-Chambon-sur-Lignon during World War 2.  He and his wife Magda were responsible – along with all of the parishioners and village citizens – in saving upwards of 5,000 Jewish children during the War, hiding them, and spiriting them to freedom in free France and beyond as they fled the Nazi power and death machine.  These actions grew out of a weekly Bible study that André Trocmé led among his parish where the gathered folks looked at the teachings of Jesus, and really committed to understanding and imitating them: giving generously, fighting the powers, resisting evil, overcoming evil with good, loving your neighbor as God first loves you.

 

Later, he wrote a brief confession of faith (his way of putting his faith into words) which was later elaborated in 1956 while he was in the hospital.  Here it is in his original French:

 

Je crois à la vérité éternelle.

Je crois que cette vérité doit traverser toutes sortes de luttes de de difficultés, avant de triompher.  Et au fond c’est cela que j’appelle le Christ: tantôt semence jetée en terre; tantôt lente croissance associée à notre nature matérielle, qu’elle inspire et transforme ; tantôt revanche inévitable de la vérité sure le mensonge ; tantôt vérité crucifiée, reniée, mourante ou même morte; tantôt lumière totale et éternelle que plus rien ne peut ternir, parce quelle a traversé toutes les épreuves, parce qu’elle a entrepris et accomplit toutes les actions et entraîné avec elle tous ceux qui étaient l’objet de son amour ….

Au fond, il ne s’agit pas tellement de voir si nous survivions ou pas à notre mort, mais  <<d’être avec Christ>> en toutes circonstances, vie ou mort, victoire ou défaite.

La foi consiste à comprendre que l’on ne port pas soi-même la passion du monde, mais que l’on y participe volontairement, pour une faible part.

Il ne s’agit pas non plus d’une confiance passive, d’une sort d’anesthésie que l’on tâcherait de s’appliquer à soi-même, pour ne pas voir les réalités d’un monde souffrant.

Il s’agit d’une marche avec Christ, très consciente et très éveillée.

 

And in my awkward English translation:

 

I believe in Eternal Life.

I believe that this truth must stretch across all sorts of fights and , difficulties, before we can ever triumph. And that’s essentially what I call the Christ: sometimes seeds sown in the earth, sometimes slow growth attributed to our natural world which it inspires and transforms, sometimes it’s an unavoidable return of truth over lies, sometimes it’s truth crucified, renounced, dying or even dead; sometimes it’s pure and eternal light that nothing can dim because faith has survived trials, faith has undertaken and accomplished all of the actions and brought along with it all the objects of its love…

Fundamentally faith isn’t so much about wether we survive or not at our death, but about “being with Christ” in all circumstances, in life and in death, in victory and in defeat.

Faith consists in comprehending that we do not carry the burden ourselves of the worlds’ passion, but that we voluntarily participate in it in our own little part.

At the same time int’s not about a passive confidence, or some sort of anesthetized commitment to commit ourselves, in a way that we justify not seeing the realities of our suffering world.

Faith is about a walk with Christ, very much consciously undertaken and done as we’re awake and alert.

 

Faith in his words and example seems to be less a certainty than a conviction, less a justification for inaction than a motivator of love, less a rallying cry than a raison d’être.  As you begin this day, and near this end of the first week of Lent as these devotions have focused upon obedience and following, what does faith mean for you?  Can you compose – in written word – or speak aloud – your own brief confession of faith?

 

Here’s a video about what happened with faith was lived this way in Le-Chambon-sur-Lignon

“A Conspiracy Of Goodness: The hidden children of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon” from Martyn Cox on Vimeo.