deep in the brown, dry earth of a barren field
but the crop did not grow
for the field did not belong to them
The sowers went out and saw a crop they had not planted
it flourished green and tall and elegant in the sunny breeze
and they murmured and cursed amongst themselves
for they were deceived
The sowers went out and surveyed the field of beautiful growth
"All weeds!" they said scornfully, irate
"And we shall burn it!" they decided that day
for they could not see, they were blinded by hate
The sowers went home
and spoke with venom-laced words
they spoke smoothly, deftly, with shining eyes and cruel smirks that they tried to hide
until all believed their gossip and lies
The sowers went out to the field, torches in hand
and lit the four corners of the good crop as it swayed beneath a gentle sunset
and the fire spread and the smoke billowed and the sowers walked home, triumph-filled in the twilight
and all was lost, blackened, forever ruined
Evening faded into darkness
as one man stood and soaked it all in —
the charred smell that stung his eyes,
the words of the sowers,
the darkness itself
The only thing he could not bring within himself,
fill his heart up with,
was their feeling of triumph
for he was the servant of the Farmer
chosen
to watch and water and nourish and protect the crop
until the Farmer returned
and the Farmer was returning soon
"'I lived in Germany during the Nazi Holocaust. I considered myself a Christian. We heard stories of what was happening to the Jews, but we tried to distance ourselves from it, because, what could anyone do to stop it?
A railroad track ran behind our small church and each Sunday morning we could hear the whistle in the distance and then the wheels coming over the tracks. We became disturbed when we heard the cries coming from the train as it passed by. We realized that it was carrying Jews like cattle in the cars!
Week after week the whistle would blow. We dreaded to hear the sound of those wheels because we knew that we would hear the cries of the Jews en route to a death camp. Their screams tormented us.
We knew the time the train was coming and when we heard the whistle blow we began singing hymns. By the time the train came past our church we were singing at the top of our voices. If we heard the screams, we sang more loudly and soon we heard them no more.
Years have passed and no one talks about it anymore. But I still hear that train whistle in my sleep. God forgive me; forgive all of us who called ourselves Christians yet did nothing to intervene.'
What train is rumbling past us today whose whistle we ignore?"
-Erwin W. Lutzer, quoting an eyewitness account in his book 'When A Nation Forgets God'
