In American culture the God of Scripture is not feared; instead, we fear an idol of our own making, carved in the image of tolerance, whose sacrifices are a pinch of apathy, a pound of groveling, and any lingering traces of manhood buried deep within your bones. But this leaves the question- has the American church been presenting God as He presents Himself? Or have we been presenting a god who is sitting up in heaven trying his very best to fight against the evil that is overpowering his forces here in America; a god who is begging, pleading with his enemies to just believe in him so he can bless them?
We serve a God Who laughs. Who holds His enemies in holy and unflinching derision. We serve a God Who is a loving, merciful, forgiving Father- but who is a terrifying, unflinching, fearless adversary.
"He Who sits in the heavens laughs; the Lord scoffs at them." (Ps. 2:4)
"I will even laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your dread comes." (Pr. 1:26)
Romans 1 details the descent into madness- a descent which begins with refusing to acknowledge God, and ends with the judgment of God poured out like flooding rains on those who have turned against Him; a deep and chilling blindness so overpowering that the most simple and obvious truths are lost in the confusion like a baseball in a field of corn.
Scripture tells us that everyone knows; the Image of God is so indelibly carved into their being, so inescapably shimmering out of the world around them, that they are without excuse. If Woody would just look at his boot, he would know that he belongs to Andy.
But they've shoved their boot into a sock and have lived that way for so long that they have genuinely begun to believe that there is neither boot nor Andy at all; they've told themselves their own lie for so long that they have actually started to believe it; they have looked at the world through upside-down glasses for so long that their brain is flipping their eyesight to match.
And He Who sits in the heavens laughs. He laughs as the heathen nations rage, like ants picketing on the sizzling pavement outside the air-conditioned office of the exterminator, like pots starting a Facebook campaign against the rights of the potter (who happens also to own the internet... and a sledgehammer). He laughs as America pretends with all her might that magnets don't necessarily have to go N+S... if that N wants to self-identify as an S, who are we to say otherwise? He laughs as we hide from His Truth like a child under the blanket at bedtime, as we run from Reality only to be ambushed by her child, Consequence. He laughs as the brightest minds in the scientific community conclude that the universe is a cosmic accident and claim primordial slime as their heritage. He laughs as the prophets of Babylon dance and prance in a frenzy to a mirror-idol, cutting themselves and shouting louder, louder, louder in hopes that maybe the state will send fire from heaven and consume all the intolerant things they have heaped upon her altar.
And fire will come, but it will not be from the one they worship.