Some of the saddest words in the Bible are in Psalms chapter 137. Let us review a few passages together before discussing the context.

"By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea we wept, when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land? If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy." These words are the sobs of the Israelites after they had been carried away captive into Babylon. God had promised them protection and prosperity (Deut 28:1-15) but they had forgotten that these promises were conditioned upon faithfulness. The other side of the promise was destruction for disobedience. When the nation drifted into terrible immorality, including idolatry, God made good his promise. The final destruction of the nation occurred about 606 B.C. when Jerusalem was razed and thousands of Jews were force-marched into Babylon to become slaves in an alien land. But the lash of the Israelites' captors served the purpose God intended. Now they longed for the holy city once taken for granted. They yearned for the true worship of God that they had previously disdained. Adding to their homesickness and guilt, the Babylonians demanded that the Jews put their religion on show. The slave-masters said, "Sing us one of the songs of Zion." By now the Jews had learned a new reverence. They were not about to display their religion for the sport of people who did not even believe in God. They said we would rather our right hands wither, so that we can never again tease melodious sounds from a harp, than to sing our sacred songs for the amusement of infidels. And we would prefer that our tongues grow to the roofs of our mouths than to profane our songs before aliens in a strange land.

The Israelites' feelings can be summed up in these words: "We have been taken against our will to an alien land. It is strange to our culture and hostile to our religion. We can not worship God here." No matter how rebellious these people had been, regardless of how much they deserved the punishment, one can feel sympathy for their pain.

As I understand the Old Testament, the captives were partly right. At that time, God did designate a specific place for his worship to be conducted. "Ye shall utterly destroy all the places, wherein the nations which ye shall possess served their gods... But unto the place which the Lord your God shall choose out of all your tribes to put his name there, even unto his habitation shall ye seek, and thither shall ye come." (Deut 12:2 & 5) That place was Jerusalem. The importance of a specific place of worship was changed when Jesus came. In his conversation with the woman at Jacob's well he said, "...woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the father." (John 4:21) He went on to say that it is the manner and spirit of worship₁ rather than its geographic location, that makes it acceptable.

While it was true that they could not offer in Babylon the worship that God had commanded, it was not true that they could not repent of their sins. (It is never impossible to get right with God if sinners are willing to make the required changes in their lives.) When they did repent, God ultimately restored them to their own land where they could worship. The books of Ezra and Nehemiah tell the story of that restoration.

When I read this chapter in Psalms again recently, I felt a kinship with those Jews. We have not been forcibly moved to another country as they were, but our country has changed so much that Christians are suffering similar pains. Wise men tell us that society has changed more in the last half century than in all of recorded history. Let me give a few examples. The home I grew up in did not even have a key to the front door. Now my parents, who live a few miles from that place, carefully lock the doors. We did not debate morality, such as abortion, in those days. Everyone knew what was right, whether or not they always lived by it. There was no argument about teaching the Bible in public schools; it was read so often we memorized familiar passages. And on and on it goes.

A story about two Cajun fishermen, named Jean and Louis, illustrates what has happened. They worked the coastal bayous of Louisiana. One night they tied their boat to the bank but apparently not well enough. While they slept, the gentle constant tug of the current loosed the vessel from its moorings and quietly swept it downstream. When the sun came up, Louis went on deck and was startled at the sight of open sea. He shouted to his companion, "Jean! Jean! Get up! We're not here anymore!" Sometimes I feel like I am not here anymore. I liked the place where the rules were clear, where people agreed on what was expected. As did Jean and Louis, I feel like I went to sleep one night and awoke in a strange and hostile land.

The Jews were afraid of being assimilated into Babylonian society. And they had reason to be. The price of comfort in a strange land is surrender of one's unique identity.

Their fears were expressed the words "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem..." Christians face the same problem, for to be comfortable in our strange world we will have to give up our uniqueness. I fear that the world has already swept us downstream more than we realize. I see worrisome signs of the drift in the scenes we passively watch on television, scenes that would have appalled us a generation ago. I see it in the depth of our anger with one another when we disagree, and in the viciousness of our attacks in defending positions we think are right. I see it in the increase in immorality among young and old.

How does one manage to keep a tender conscience in a world like ours? There is a small comfort in knowing that we are not the only ones who have faced this problem. In addition to the captive Jews, Lot is an instructive example. The Bible says that God "...delivered just Lot, vexed with the filthy conversation of the wicked: For that righteous man dwelling among them, in seeing and hearing, vexed his righteous soul from day to day with their unlawful deeds." (II Pet 2:7-8) Lot would not allow himself to get comfortable in Sodom. He kept his conscience tender by keeping his soul "vexed" or disturbed, as the word means.

Take special note that Lot vexed HIS soul. When some people see evil they seem determined to vex others about it. They are "carriers" of vexation but not vexed personally. They deal harshly with others and easily with themselves.

As one example of how we may have accommodated to our strange land, consider the level of anger in the world and in the church. We live in a society in which people shoot each other over trivial matters, neighbors sue one another to settle ordinary disputes, and the most popular television programs consist mainly of shouting matches. Has this angry environment affected the church? I am certain of it. One has only to note the rising "volume" of the discussions in business meetings, to be aware of how opponents "go after" each other, or to read the vicious attacks that are posted about to be convinced. We are told (Jude 9) that even the archangel, Michael, when disputing with the devil "...dared not bring against him a railing accusation." If I know what a slanderous accusation is, I believe I have heard several of them recently. I think our brethren in some cases have allowed their anger to cloud their judgment.

How does a Christian "...reprove, rebuke, exhort with all long suffering" as Paul ordered in II Timothy 4:2, or even "rebuke sharply" as he taught in Titus 1:13, and yet avoid making slanderous accusations? Again, Lot is a useful example. When his brethren sinned so grievously by attempting to sodomize the angels, Lot said, "I pray you brethren, do not so wickedly." (Gen 19:7) How clear he was about their sins; yet what love and humility was shown in his rebuke.

I am tempted to go on talking about ways we may have allowed ourselves to accommodate to our hostile environment. But space forbids it, and it may be more useful to ask Christians to search their own hearts-in privacy, when no one is accusing, and we are not defensive. The process in which consciences are seared is a gradual one and until it is complete, the ointment of God's word will bring them back to life.-OPA