The Churches That Filled and Emptied Again

During the London Blitz of 1940-41, something remarkable happened in the churches of England. Pews that had sat half-empty for years suddenly overflowed. At St. Martin-in-the-Fields near Trafalgar Square, Reverend Dick Sheppard watched as thousands crowded in night after night, seeking shelter not just from bombs but from their own mortality. Prayers rose from lips that hadn't spoken to the Almighty in decades. Bibles were pulled from dusty shelves. God was remembered.

Then the bombs stopped. By 1945, church attendance had already begun its long decline. The crisis passed, and so did the urgency of faith. The pattern was as old as Israel itself.

The psalmist knew this cycle intimately. "When He slew them, then they sought Him; they returned and sought God earnestly. They remembered that God was their rock." But their hearts were not steadfast. Their repentance lasted only as long as the danger.

Here is what staggers the soul: knowing all of this — knowing the fickleness, the fair-weather devotion, the prayers that would cool the moment comfort returned — God still showed compassion. He forgave their iniquity and did not destroy them. "Many a time He restrained His anger."