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Fellowship Baptist Church, 710 Locust Street, Lawrence, KS (2026)

08/31/2026

The Charleston Earthquake: When the Earth Shook

On August 31, 1886, the people of Charleston, South Carolina, experienced one of the most powerful and destructive earthquakes ever recorded in the eastern United States. At approximately 9:51 p.m., without warning, the ground beneath the city began to shake violently. Buildings trembled and collapsed, chimneys crashed into the streets, walls split apart, and homes that had stood for generations suddenly became places of danger. The earthquake itself lasted less than two minutes, but those brief moments were enough to transform Charleston and leave an unforgettable mark on American history.

The earthquake is estimated to have had a magnitude of approximately 7.0 to 7.3. By the standards of modern earthquakes, that represents an enormous release of energy. The shock was not confined to Charleston. The earth seemed to carry the news of what had happened across much of the eastern United States. People felt the shaking hundreds of miles away, with reports coming from places as distant as Boston, Chicago, and New Orleans. In an era before modern seismographs and sophisticated earthquake-monitoring systems, people had little understanding of what was happening beneath their feet. They simply knew that the earth itself was moving.

In Charleston, the destruction was extensive. Approximately 60 people lost their lives, while thousands of buildings were damaged. Brick walls cracked and collapsed. Chimneys toppled from rooftops and crashed through houses. Railroad tracks were twisted, roads were damaged, and buildings that had seemed solid and permanent were suddenly fractured. Fires broke out, adding another threat to a population already terrified by the violence of the earth.

Imagine standing in a Charleston street that evening. The city around you had always seemed solid. Houses stood where they had stood for years. Churches, businesses, streets, and homes formed a familiar landscape. Then, in an instant, the pavement beneath your feet began to move. Walls groaned. Windows shattered. Chimneys came crashing down. The ground itself seemed to have become a living force.

For less than two minutes, the earth beneath Charleston behaved as though something enormous had awakened beneath the city. What human hands had built over decades could be damaged in moments. Structures that represented wealth, craftsmanship, family history, and human achievement suddenly demonstrated their fragility.

Charleston had endured hurricanes, war, disease, and economic hardship, but an earthquake was something different. A hurricane could sometimes be watched approaching from the horizon. A war could be anticipated. Disease could be recognized and treated. But an earthquake came from beneath the ground, without warning and without regard for human plans. There was little anyone could do to stop it.

That fact makes the Charleston earthquake particularly striking. Human beings naturally build their lives around things that appear permanent. We trust the ground beneath our feet, the walls around our homes, the institutions of our communities, and the prosperity we have worked to establish. Yet on that August night, Charleston was reminded that what appears immovable from a human perspective can sometimes be shaken in a matter of seconds.

More than a century later, the lesson remains remarkably relevant. We live in a world filled with astonishing human accomplishments. We build enormous cities that rise hundreds of stories into the sky. We construct bridges that span miles of water. We send spacecraft beyond the earth and communicate almost instantaneously across oceans and continents. Modern technology allows humanity to manipulate forces of nature in ways that would have seemed impossible to the people of Charleston in 1886.

And yet, beneath all of our accomplishments remains a simple truth: humanity is not ultimately in control. The Bible repeatedly uses the imagery of shaking to remind us where our true security lies. Psalm 46 declares, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.” The psalmist does not say that the earth will never shake. He says that even if it does, God remains.

That distinction is important. Christianity does not promise believers a life in which nothing unexpected happens. Scripture never tells us that our homes will never be damaged, our plans will never fail, our governments will never change, or our lives will never be interrupted by tragedy. Instead, Scripture points us toward something far more enduring: a God whose character does not change when everything around us does.

The people of Charleston went to bed on August 31, 1886, expecting the familiar world they knew to be waiting for them the next morning. Within minutes, that familiar world had been violently disrupted. The earthquake became a reminder that what appears permanent from a human perspective may be remarkably temporary.

There is a deeper biblical lesson here. Jesus warned about building a house upon the sand rather than upon the rock. When the storm came, the difference between the two foundations became obvious. The storm did not create the weakness of the foundation; it revealed it. The same can be true in human life. Prosperity can conceal weakness. Comfort can conceal misplaced confidence. Success can make us believe that we are more secure than we really are. But when the unexpected comes—when circumstances shake us—our foundation is revealed.

For the Christian, that foundation is not wealth, government, reputation, possessions, health, or even the stability of the world around us. It is Christ. The Charleston earthquake also reminds us of the limits of human power. The people of Charleston could build strong houses, organize governments, establish businesses, develop transportation systems, and create communities of remarkable beauty. But they could not command the earth to remain still. The earthquake came without asking permission and departed without waiting for human approval.

This is not a reason for despair. It is a reason for humility. Human beings were created to exercise dominion over creation, but dominion is not sovereignty. Genesis gives humanity responsibility over the created world, but God alone remains its Creator and Sustainer. We are stewards, not masters. We may study the forces of nature, prepare for disasters, strengthen buildings, and save lives—and we should. But ultimately, creation remains in the hands of its Creator.

There is something profoundly humbling about standing beneath the vastness of creation and realizing how little control we actually possess. The same earth that supports our homes can tremble beneath them. The same oceans that provide food and transportation can become destructive forces. The same atmosphere that gives us life can produce hurricanes and tornadoes of terrifying power. Creation is magnificent, but it is not ours to command absolutely.

The Charleston earthquake therefore provides more than an interesting historical event. It offers a picture of the difference between temporary security and eternal security.
The earth beneath Charleston shook on August 31, 1886. The buildings shook. The streets shook. The windows shook. The people shook. But God did not. And that may be the greatest lesson of all.

Our circumstances may change. Nations may rise and fall. Economies may prosper and collapse. Governments may succeed or fail. Our possessions may disappear, and the foundations upon which we have built our earthly lives may sometimes be shaken without warning.

But the character of God does not change. Hebrews 12:28 gives us the appropriate conclusion: “Wherefore we receiving a kingdom which cannot be moved, let us have grace, whereby we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear.”

The Charleston earthquake reminds us that everything earthly can be shaken. The Christian hope is that we belong to a kingdom that cannot be shaken. When the earth beneath us moves, when circumstances beyond our control suddenly change, and when the things we once considered secure prove fragile, may we remember the One who holds the earth in His hands.

The ground may shake beneath our feet, but the throne of God does not move.

08/29/2026

Hurricane Katrina

On August 29, 2005, one of the most devastating natural disasters in modern American history began unfolding along the Gulf Coast. Hurricane Katrina had already crossed Florida and entered the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, where it rapidly intensified. At its strongest, Katrina became a Category 5 hurricane, with sustained winds of approximately 175 miles per hour. A storm of that strength is difficult to comprehend. Its winds were powerful enough to tear roofs from buildings, snap trees like matchsticks, turn ordinary objects into deadly projectiles, and drive an enormous wall of seawater toward the coast. The hurricane itself stretched across hundreds of miles, making it less like a single storm and more like a vast atmospheric machine moving across the Gulf.

By the morning of August 29, Katrina had weakened to a Category 3 hurricane before making landfall near Buras, Louisiana, around 6:10 a.m. But a hurricane does not have to retain its maximum wind speed to remain extraordinarily dangerous. Katrina's enormous size meant that its winds and storm surge affected a vast portion of the Gulf Coast. The storm pushed an immense volume of water toward the shoreline, producing a storm surge that in places reached more than twenty feet. Imagine a wall of water rising higher than a two-story house and advancing across communities that had been built on the assumption that the protective barriers around them would hold.

The greatest catastrophe was still ahead. New Orleans was particularly vulnerable because much of the city lies below sea level, protected from surrounding waters by an extensive system of levees and floodwalls. As Katrina's storm surge pushed inland, portions of that system failed. The Industrial Canal, the 17th Street Canal, and other sections of the flood-protection system were breached or overtopped. Water poured into neighborhoods that only hours earlier had been ordinary American communities filled with homes, churches, businesses, schools, and families.

The scale of the flooding was almost impossible to comprehend. By the following day, approximately 80 percent of New Orleans was underwater. Streets became canals. Cars disappeared beneath the surface. Houses that had represented years of work and family memories stood surrounded by water. In some places, floodwaters reached as much as twenty feet deep. A city that normally supported hundreds of thousands of people had suddenly become an enormous disaster zone in which transportation, electricity, communications, sanitation, and emergency services were severely disrupted.

The images that followed became permanently etched into the American memory. People stood on rooftops waiting for rescue. Families crowded into shelters. Thousands gathered at the Louisiana Superdome and the New Orleans Convention Center, where conditions rapidly deteriorated. Hospitals struggled without adequate electricity and supplies. Boats and helicopters became lifelines in a city whose streets had been transformed into waterways. The storm had passed, but for many people the real ordeal was only beginning.

Katrina ultimately killed nearly 1,400 people and caused approximately $200 billion in damage, making it one of the costliest disasters in American history. The devastation extended far beyond New Orleans, affecting Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and other portions of the Gulf Coast. Homes disappeared, communities were scattered, businesses were destroyed, and hundreds of thousands of Americans were displaced. The destruction was so extensive that its consequences continued long after the floodwaters receded. For many survivors, “home” would never again mean quite what it had meant before August 29, 2005.

Yet Katrina was not simply a story about the destructive power of a hurricane. It was also a story about the consequences of human decisions. The storm exposed weaknesses in infrastructure, emergency preparation, evacuation planning, and governmental response. The levee failures became the subject of extensive engineering investigation because the catastrophe resulted not simply from the force of nature but from the interaction of that force with structures designed to protect human life. The United States Geological Survey documented the failures in detail, seeking to understand precisely how the protective system had broken apart.

And yet, amid the destruction, another story emerged—the story of human courage. Coast Guard crews flew into dangerous conditions to rescue stranded people. First responders worked for days under extraordinary circumstances. Ordinary citizens rescued neighbors, shared food and water, opened their homes, and searched for people who were missing. Churches and Christian ministries became centers of relief and compassion. Across America, people who had never met the victims of Katrina sent money, supplies, clothing, food, and prayers. In the midst of terrible suffering, people demonstrated something equally real: the capacity to love their neighbors when those neighbors were in desperate need.

Katrina reminds us of something Scripture has taught humanity from the beginning: we are not as powerful as we sometimes imagine ourselves to be. Human beings can construct enormous cities, massive bridges, towering buildings, sophisticated transportation systems, and seemingly formidable walls. We can predict storms, launch satellites, communicate across oceans, and harness forces that previous generations could scarcely imagine. Yet a hurricane can remind us within hours that human strength has limits.

Consider the contrast. Human beings had spent generations transforming the Mississippi River delta into one of America's great metropolitan regions. Engineers had built miles of levees and floodwalls to hold back the waters. New Orleans had become a major American city filled with homes, businesses, hospitals, churches, schools, highways, and ports. Yet a storm hundreds of miles across could approach from the Gulf and, within a single day, overwhelm portions of the defenses upon which the city depended.

The psalmist understood this humility when he wrote, “What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?” (Psalm 8:4). The question is not intended to diminish human beings. Quite the opposite. Scripture teaches that human life possesses extraordinary dignity because mankind is created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). But dignity is not the same thing as sovereignty. We are creatures, not the Creator.

Katrina also reminds us that stewardship carries responsibility. God gave humanity dominion over creation, but dominion was never permission for carelessness. From the beginning, mankind was commanded to “dress it and to keep it” (Genesis 2:15). Engineers design levees to protect communities. Government officials develop emergency plans. Families prepare for storms. First responders train to save lives. These are not merely secular activities; they can be expressions of faithful stewardship. When human beings possess knowledge and resources that can preserve life, they have a responsibility to use them wisely.

The tragedy also reveals the importance of loving our neighbors. Jesus summarized the second great commandment in simple words: “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matthew 22:39). During Katrina, that commandment became visible in countless acts of sacrifice. A stranger pulled another stranger from the water. A rescue worker entered a dangerous neighborhood. A church opened its doors. A truck driver carried supplies into a devastated region. A family took in people who had nowhere else to go. These acts remind us that Christian compassion is not merely an emotion. It is love expressed through action.

Perhaps the deepest lesson is that disasters have a way of stripping away our illusions of control. The waters rose. The electricity failed. Communications disappeared. Roads became impassable. Possessions that had taken years to acquire could be destroyed in hours. Yet human beings remained precious. A person's worth was not determined by the house he owned, the money in his bank account, or the possessions he had accumulated. When everything else was swept away, the value of human life remained.

There is something sobering about standing back from the history of Katrina and remembering the sheer scale of what happened. A storm system hundreds of miles wide gathered energy over the Gulf, pushed an immense mass of water toward the coastline, overwhelmed portions of a great city's defenses, and transformed streets into rivers in a matter of hours. The event demonstrates the extraordinary forces present in God's creation, but it also demonstrates the remarkable fragility of human civilization.

Twenty-one years later, Katrina still speaks to us. It tells us to prepare carefully, to build wisely, to govern responsibly, to help those who are vulnerable, and never to forget how quickly circumstances can change. But it also reminds us of something greater. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1).

The lesson of Katrina is not that Christians should expect to be protected from every storm. Scripture never makes such a promise. Rather, it teaches us where our ultimate security lies. The strongest levee can fail. The safest building can be destroyed. The wealthiest person can lose everything. The most carefully constructed plans can be overturned by circumstances beyond our control. But the faithfulness of God does not depend upon the strength of our walls.

The waters may rise, the winds may blow, and the foundations of earthly security may shake. Yet God remains God. And when the storm comes, His people are called not merely to seek refuge themselves, but to become instruments of refuge for others.

08/28/2026

The God Who Knows Every Star

On August 28, 1789, the English astronomer William Herschel pointed one of the most powerful telescopes of his age toward Saturn and discovered a small, previously unknown moon. He named it Enceladus. To Herschel, it was a remarkable scientific achievement. Humanity had discovered another world, a tiny body moving through the immense darkness surrounding Saturn. Yet Herschel's discovery can remind us of something far greater than the accomplishment of one eighteenth-century astronomer. It can remind us of the astonishing magnitude of the universe and, even more importantly, of the God who created it.

When we look into the night sky, what we see with our unaided eyes is almost nothing compared with what is actually there. Our Sun, which looks enormous from Earth, is about 865,000 miles in diameter. More than one million Earths could fit inside it. Yet the Sun is considered only an average-sized star. There are stars so enormous that they make our Sun seem small by comparison. NASA estimates that the universe could contain as many as one septillion stars. That is a one followed by twenty-four zeros. Our Milky Way alone contains more than 100 billion stars. We live on a small planet orbiting one ordinary star in one ordinary galaxy.

Try to imagine what that means. If you could count one star every second without stopping, day or night, it would take more than 3,000 years to count the stars in our own Milky Way. And even after you finished, you would have counted only the stars in our galaxy, while the universe contains vastly more. NASA estimates that the Milky Way is roughly 100,000 light-years across. A light-year is the distance light travels in a single year, nearly six trillion miles. Even traveling at the incredible speed of light, it would take 100,000 years to cross our galaxy from one side to the other.

And the Milky Way is not the universe. It is only one galaxy among billions. Some galaxies contain hundreds of billions of stars, while giant galaxies can contain more than a trillion. One galaxy known as IC 1101 may stretch across as much as four million light-years. Our minds were never designed to comprehend distances on such a scale.

The deeper we look, the more enormous creation becomes. The Hubble Space Telescope has photographed regions of the sky that appear almost empty to the naked eye, only to reveal thousands of galaxies packed into an incredibly small patch of sky. One famous Hubble image, the Extreme Deep Field, contains about 5,500 galaxies. Imagine holding up a grain of sand at arm's length and looking at the tiny portion of sky behind it. In that apparently insignificant patch, there can be thousands of galaxies, each containing millions, billions, or even trillions of stars.

And yet, even these numbers do not tell the whole story. Scientists continue to discover planets orbiting other stars, new galaxies, strange objects, enormous clouds of gas and dust, black holes, and phenomena that remain poorly understood. The universe is not only vast; it is filled with mysteries. NASA notes that the ordinary matter we can see—stars, planets, people, animals, and everything else familiar to us—accounts for less than five percent of the universe. An estimated 27 percent is dark matter and about 68 percent is dark energy, both of which remain deeply mysterious to scientists. Human knowledge is extraordinary, but it is remarkably small. God's knowledge is not small.

The psalmist looked into the heavens and declared, “The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork” (Psalm 19:1). The heavens are not merely enormous. They are a testimony. Every star, every galaxy, every planet, every nebula, every black hole, and every mystery that remains beyond our understanding points us beyond creation to the Creator. The Bible gives us an astonishing thought: “He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names” (Psalm 147:4).

We struggle even to comprehend the number of stars. God knows their number. We cannot identify every star. God knows every one of them. We cannot begin to comprehend the distances between galaxies. God created those distances. We continue discovering new planets and celestial objects. God has never discovered anything. Nothing in His creation has ever surprised Him.

There is something humbling about that. Every generation of humanity believes it knows more than the generations before it, and in many ways it does. Our telescopes can see farther. Our instruments can detect things our ancestors could not imagine. Our spacecraft have traveled beyond the planets known to ancient civilizations. Our computers can process information at speeds previous generations could scarcely conceive.

And yet every new discovery seems to open the door to another hundred questions. We know more than we once knew, but the unknown continues to stretch before us. God has no unknown.
He has never looked through a telescope and wondered what He might find. He has never examined a distant galaxy and discovered something that He did not already know. Before humanity ever built its first telescope, God knew every star. Before Herschel discovered Enceladus, God knew it was there. Before human beings discovered the first planet beyond our solar system, God already knew every planet that exists.

But perhaps the most comforting truth is what comes next. The God who knows every star also knows you. Psalm 139 reminds us that God has searched us and knows us. He knows when we sit down and when we rise. He understands our thoughts. He knows our words before we speak them. He knows the path we take and the places where we rest. He knows us completely.

Consider the contrast. We live on a planet that is almost unimaginably small compared with the universe. Earth is a tiny world orbiting one star. That star is one among more than 100 billion in our galaxy. Our galaxy is one among billions. And yet the Creator of all of it knows your name. The immensity of the universe should not make us feel insignificant before God. It should make us marvel at His greatness and rejoice in His attention to us.

Think about your concerns today. Perhaps you are worried about your family. Perhaps there is a financial burden you do not know how to solve. Perhaps you are facing a difficult decision and cannot see what lies ahead. Perhaps you are carrying disappointment, loneliness, uncertainty, or fear. Perhaps you are concerned about the direction of our nation or the condition of the world.

You do not know what tomorrow will bring. God does. You cannot see around the next corner. God can. You do not understand everything that is happening in your life. God does. The God who knows every star is not overwhelmed by the circumstances of your life. Your problem is not too small for His attention, and it is not too large for His power.

Think again about the universe. Light travels nearly six trillion miles in one year. The nearest star system beyond our Sun is more than four light-years away. The Milky Way stretches roughly 100,000 light-years across. Some galaxies are millions of light-years in diameter. We cannot travel across such distances, and we cannot comprehend them fully. Yet God is not distant from any part of His creation.

The God who holds the universe together is also near to the brokenhearted. The God who knows the movement of galaxies knows the tears that fall from your eyes. The God who knows when a star is born and when a star dies knows the circumstances surrounding your life today.

That is the deeper wonder behind William Herschel's discovery on August 28, 1789. Herschel looked into the heavens and discovered another moon. Humanity celebrated the expansion of its knowledge. But every scientific discovery should ultimately lead us toward humility. The more we learn, the more we recognize how much remains unknown.

And the more we recognize how little we know, the more precious becomes the truth that God knows everything. He knows the stars.
He knows the galaxies. He knows the beginning from the end. He knows every detail of His creation. And He knows you.

So when you look into the heavens, do not merely see an enormous universe. See the handiwork of your Creator. Let the stars remind you that the God who made something so vast is also the God who listens when you pray. “The heavens declare the glory of God.”

Somewhere beneath those heavens, on one small planet orbiting one ordinary star in one galaxy among billions, God knows exactly where you are. He knows what you are facing. He knows what you need. He knows the questions you cannot answer and the burdens you cannot carry by yourself. He knows the future that you cannot see. And He has not forgotten you.

Father, when I look at the vastness of Your creation, help me to understand both Your greatness and Your care for me. When I consider the countless stars, the billions of galaxies, and the mysteries of creation that human beings have yet to understand, remind me that nothing is mysterious to You. Forgive me when I allow my problems to become larger in my mind than You are. Remind me that You know every star by name and that You also know me. Give me faith to trust You with the things I cannot see, wisdom to face the things I do not understand, and peace in knowing that nothing in my life is beyond Your knowledge or Your care. Amen.

08/27/2026

Faithful Service May Require Sacrifice

On August 27, 1900, U.S. Army physician James Carroll deliberately allowed an infected mosquito to bite him. Carroll was part of a team investigating yellow fever, a terrible disease that had repeatedly devastated military camps and communities. Scientists suspected that mosquitoes might be responsible for spreading the disease, but proving it required extraordinary personal courage. Carroll and his colleagues were willing to expose themselves to the very disease they were trying to understand.

Carroll soon developed yellow fever and became seriously ill. His experiment, however, helped provide important evidence that mosquitoes transmitted the disease. The work of Carroll, Walter Reed, Jesse Lazear, and Aristides Agramonte contributed to the discovery that changed the fight against yellow fever and eventually saved countless lives.

There is something deeply meaningful about people who are willing to endure hardship so that others may benefit. Carroll did not know exactly what would happen when he allowed the mosquito to bite him. He knew the danger was real, yet he was willing to accept personal risk in pursuit of knowledge that could protect others. His example reminds us that some of the most valuable contributions to society are made by people who are willing to sacrifice personal comfort, safety, or recognition for the sake of others.

Christians are called to a similar spirit of sacrificial service. Jesus said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). Christian service does not always require literally giving one's life, but it does require a willingness to put the needs of others ahead of personal comfort or advantage. Paul expressed this principle when he wrote, “Let no man seek his own, but every man another's wealth” (1 Corinthians 10:24). Our calling is not simply to ask what benefits us. We should also ask how God might use our abilities, time, resources, and sacrifices to benefit others.

Most of us will never face the kind of danger James Carroll faced. Yet opportunities for sacrificial service surround us. A parent gives up personal freedom for a child. A husband or wife patiently cares for a spouse. A Christian spends time encouraging someone who is discouraged. A neighbor helps someone in need without expecting recognition. A believer quietly prays for others when no one knows.

The world often measures success by what we gain. Christ teaches us to measure it by what we are willing to give. Carroll's story reminds us that important work is sometimes accomplished by people willing to endure something difficult so that others may live better because of it. Jesus did not merely teach sacrificial love. He demonstrated it. “Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren” (1 John 3:16).

We may never know how far the effects of a single act of faithfulness will reach. But God does. A sacrifice made in love is never wasted when it is placed in His hands.

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710 Locust Street
Lawrence, KS
66044

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Wednesday	7pm - 8pm
Sunday	9:45am - 12pm
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http://www.fbclawrence.org/

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