November 1 | Moments Almanac |
When the Ground Gives Way | Moments Almanac — November 1 On November 1, 1755, thousands gathered in Lisbon's churches to celebrate All Saints' Day. Then, without warning, the earth began to shake. Churches collapsed, fires swept through the city, and a devastating tsunami followed. In a matter of minutes, everything that seemed secure was suddenly uncertain. Exactly sixty years later, on November 1, 1815, a young London cabinetmaker named Edward Mote publicly declared his faith through baptis...
When the Ground Gives Way | Moments Almanac — November 1
On November 1, 1755, thousands gathered in Lisbon's churches to celebrate All Saints' Day. Then, without warning, the earth began to shake. Churches collapsed, fires swept through the city, and a devastating tsunami followed. In a matter of minutes, everything that seemed secure was suddenly uncertain.
Exactly sixty years later, on November 1, 1815, a young London cabinetmaker named Edward Mote publicly declared his faith through baptism. Years later, he would write one of Christianity's most enduring hymns: “On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; all other ground is sinking sand.”
What connects a devastating earthquake and a beloved hymn written decades later?
In this episode of Moments Almanac, we explore two remarkable moments in history and a timeless truth about faith, suffering, and the foundations upon which we build our lives.
Jesus never promised that storms wouldn't come. But He told us something extraordinary about what can remain standing when they do.
When everything beneath us gives way, what are we standing on?
Take heart. Notice the scattered moments. Share the grace.
Scattered Moments | History, Faith, and the Grace Hidden in Ordinary Days
Welcome to Moments Almanac. My name is Matt Tullis, and I'm so thankful that you joined me on this All Saints Day, November 1st. And on the morning of November 1st, 1755, it was All Saints Day. Candles burned in sanctuaries throughout the Portuguese capital. Bells called worshipers to mass, families crowded into churches, and then, at about 9.40 in the morning, the ground began to move. Not a tremor. An earthquake. Buildings buckled, walls split, church roofs came crashing down on worshipers below. Those who escaped into the streets faced another horror. Fires began spreading throughout the city, fed in part by the overturned candles, lamps, and cooking fires. And then the sea itself seemed to turn against Lisbon. The waters withdrew from the harbor and returned as a devastating tsunami. Earth, fire, water, by the time it was over, much of one of Europe's great cities was gone. And somewhere between ten and forty thousand people had died in Lisbon. And Europe was left with a question where do you stand when the ground beneath you gives way? That question it wasn't merely architectural, it was spiritual. People argued about what the earthquake meant. Some called it judgment. Philosophers debated how such suffering could exist in a world governed by God. Those questions haven't disappeared. We asked them when a diagnosis comes, when the phone rings in the middle of the night, when the marriage fails, when the job disappears, when someone we love dies, when something we thought was permanent suddenly isn't. And perhaps that's where faith begins, not by pretending the ground never moves, but by asking, what am I standing on? Exactly sixty years after the Lisbon earthquake on November first, eighteen fifteen, an eighteen-year-old London cabinet maker named Edward Mot stepped into the waters of baptism. His childhood had been almost completely untouched by Christianity. His parents operated a pub, and Mot later remembered being so spiritually ignorant as a boy he didn't even know there was a God. But somewhere along the way he heard the gospel. And on this day, November first, he publicly declared where he had decided to stand. Years later, Mot would write the hymn for which we remember him. All other ground is sinking sand. What an extraordinary sentence to remember on November first, because Christianity doesn't promise that the buildings will always stand. Church buildings fall, economies collapse, bodies grow weak, institutions disappoint us, people fail us. Even the earth beneath our feet occasionally reminds us that it was never as permanent as we imagined. Jesus once told a story about two men who built houses, one built on rock and the other on sand, and sometimes we miss an important detail in that story. The storm hit both houses. The man on the rock wasn't spared the rain, he wasn't spared the flood, he wasn't spared the wind. The difference wasn't whether the storm came, the difference was what remained after it came. And perhaps that's the word for us today. Faith is not confidence that nothing will shake. Faith is knowing what cannot be shaken. There will be November mornings when the ground moves beneath us. There will be moments when what seemed immovable suddenly collapses, and when they come, Edward Motes Hymn becomes something more than what we sing. It becomes something that we cling to. On Christ, the solid rock I stand, because when all other ground gives way, the rock remains. And that's Moments Almanac for November 1st. Thank you so much for joining me, and I hope you'll be back tomorrow. Until then, take heart. Notice the scattered moments and share the grace.
