Tom Lawson died on July 8th, 2022 at 96 years of age. A husband, a father, a businessman, and a veteran, Tom lived the kind of life that is a witness to Christ. Tom Lawson also wrote regular letters to the editor of the Baltimore Sun. His final, posthumous letter is a testament to the centrality of faith in his life, and can be read here.
Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me.
I was speaking with a friend last night about how the word ‘faith’ has lost its meaning. I don’t mean that no one has faith anymore. Most people continue to have faith of one kind or another. What I mean is that there is no longer any common agreement on what the word ‘faith’ means. Some people talk about faith as a kind of personal code or set of beliefs that are important to them. Some people talk about faith as a kind of spiritual experience that gives peace or bestows a sense of purpose in life. Some people talk about faith as a kind of conviction that everything—no matter how difficult things are now—everything will eventually work out. Some people talk about faith as simple good old-fashioned belief in God. Most people continue to have faith of one kind or another. But most people also don’t agree on what faith is.
Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me.
The most well-known definition of faith is found in the Letter to the Hebrews: faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen. What does that definition mean? Well, the definition tells us that faith is the possession of something now that is the foundation for the whole of our future lives. Faith is the present assurance—the conviction experienced in real time—that there is something—someone—more to this world and that we stand in relationship with realities that move far beyond the reach of our senses. For this reason, the Letter to the Hebrews continues: By faith we understand that the world was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was made out of things which do not appear.
Everything—everything—about the Christian life turns on this claim: By faith we understand that the world was created by the word of God . . . because the word of God is none other than Christ. The word ‘faith’ means relationship with Christ. The possession of someone now who is the foundation for the whole of our future lives. This is why Pope Benedict is able to say that faith is: looking at Christ, entrusting oneself to Christ, being united to Christ, to his life. And the form, the life of Christ, is love; hence to believe—[to have faith]—is to conform to Christ and to enter into his love.
I don’t think there is anyone in this church today who doubts that Tom Lawson was a man of faith. If you didn’t know him yourself to see how he lived and to see how he had entered into the love of Christ—and I will tell you that I never met the man myself—you can nonetheless see through the witness of his family and his visible impact on our local church that here was a man who had met Christ and had conformed his life to the word of God. No one here today should have any doubts that Tom Lawson was a man of faith—real, authentic, meaningful faith.
And that kind of faith—make no mistake—is the warrant for our hope. In fact, there is no hope apart from faith because without Christ there is no foundation for our future lives. The promise of faith gives us everything. That’s what Christ tells us in the Gospel this morning:
Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me.
You know, the thought had not occurred to me until looking at this Gospel last night that with these words Christ makes clear that the Christian life is a complete reversal of human religious experience. Look at how Christ begins and ends the Gospel. Christ is telling his closest friends at the start of the Gospel: because you have faith in God, have faith also in me. In other words: let your faith in God convince you that I am a holy person—a person of God. And that is the kind of religious experience that we might find in any culture at any time in human history.
But look at how the Gospel concludes: I am the way and the truth and the life and no one comes to the Father except through me. What could these words mean? Well, no longer is Christ asking his followers to make the movement from faith in God to faith in a good or holy person. The whole movement of religious experience has been reversed: Christ now tells his followers to let a relationship with him establish for them an eternal relationship with God. The Christian life isn’t about searching for a holy man who will tell us how to get to God; that is the kind of religious experience we might find in any culture at any time in human history. The Christian life in the most remarkable of ways is about living in relationship with a God who has come to us through a profound act of humility. And that relationship with the God who has come to us is called faith. And that kind of faith is why the Christian heart ought not be troubled.
The other day I was reading the last, posthumous letter to the editor that the Baltimore Sun will ever publish by Tom Lawson. And there are words to live by in this letter: whenever you run into a problem and are questioned, take a chance and tell the truth. That is good advice for anyone, but the thought occurred to me that for the Christian these words possess a deeper meaning. Because for the Christian, the truth is ultimately a person: Jesus Christ. And for the Christian, the greatest act of speech of which we are capable is the testimony that we give with our lives. So, for the Christian, to take a chance and tell the truth is to let our faith in Christ—our relationship with Christ—reverberate out into the world through every thought, word, action, and relationship that constitutes these lives of ours. I think Tom Lawson took a chance and told the truth. I think Tom Lawson lived that kind of life—a life of real, authentic, meaningful faith, and so our hearts need not be troubled.