Reverie in Ember Week

Rich was taken from us way too soon.

Consider the greatness, awesomeness and all-in-all of our God. Our language fails in delivering the laud, honor and glory that is to be ascribed to the architect of creation, and author of our redemption.

Another Deacon's Anthem

Another "Deacon's Anthem"

Somewhere in the Troposphere

Its 7:19 PM on a Sunday evening and I’m sailing through the troposphere, slicing the airstream at some subsonic speed on the way to a two week class in Melbourne, FL. I was pleasantly surprised to receive an upgrade, which had previously been waitlisted. This afforded a roomier seat for my skinny little frame. The grapes, cheese and china teacups were too were a nice as well. There’s an overcast ceiling down below, perhaps ten or so thousand few below the United Airlines 757.

After ruminating over Father Toby’s sermon, I broke out the iPod and dug for some ear food, since the Captain had elected no to make the cockpit audio available to the cabin. The menu fell on Randy Stonehill’s song, “Starlings”,a powerful song that in my estimation could easily be the “Deacon’s Anthem”. The song speaks of the birds brought to the new world by someone who wanted to have a piece of their former home in their new homeland. These birds quickly adapted to their new digs and became an invasive nuisance.

The second stanza moves to consider those who, unfortunately, have come to be viewed as the “human starlings”. The lyrics go something like this:

Riding with my family in a '58 Buick
I can still recall
How we'd drive through the valley
To my Grandmother's house
Every summer vacation
When I was small
And I'd gaze out the window
At the farms and the orchards
And the sound of our motor
Would frighten the starlings
And they'd rise from the fields to fly
My mother would grumble
"Those birds are a curse
They're a thorn in the farmers" side
But I couldn't help feeling sad and inspired
By their desperate ballet in the sky

Chorus
Say a prayer for the starlings
A hot, dry wind beats their ragged wings
Have a thought for the starlings
No one ever listens to the songs they sing
Say a prayer for the starlings
There's no welcome for them anywhere
Leave some crumbs for the starlings
They say that Winter will be cold this year

She was sitting on a curb by the Seven Eleven®
She asked if I had some spare change
Her skin wore that leathered and windburned look
And the light in her blue eyes was wild and strange
I sat down beside her and asked her her name
She said, "pick one you like, I need something to eat"
And her life made me think
Of the dead leaves in Autumn
Drifting like ghosts down the street

Is the life that we celebrate only a dream
A lie that we serve like a god made of stone
And our hearts are the hunter
Birds with no nesting place
Weary and aching for home

Selah.

November 7, 2009 -- A Turn in the River

So there I was, Checking my e-mails and deleting the many "Pharmaceutical" e-mails when a two-worded subject line leaped off the screen, "CANA Ordination". I read on.

Dear Andrew,

Bishop Minns has approved you for ordination on November 7, 2009 at Truro Church in Fairfax, Virginia. We praise God for what He has done in your life, for your commitment to Christ and for the ministry ahead of you in CANA. Our prayers are with you as you prepare to take your ordination vows.

...

“May the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” Hebrews 13:20

In Christ,

Jack

(The text has been slightly edited, removing some administrative information, and e-mail addresses in the spirit of privacy.)

Reading the text filled me with a sense of elation and and trepidation. Elation in the sense of an effervescent joy that welled up at the sense that the prayers, studies, examinations, and the waiting of the past four years were all now coming to their fruition. There was now a date marked on the calendar, the feast of Saint Willibrord of Utrecht (or November 7th in more common parlance), where my soul would receive the blessing handed down by Christ Himself to His own Apostles by means of the laying on of hands by either Bishop Minns or Bishop Bena.

On the heels of joy came a sudden fear. This wasn't a phobic moment but rather, a sudden dread that seems to strike those suddenly in the presence of the Almighty. I believe that at its core, is a sense that one is about to enter into the most holy moment of their life to date.
When Isaiah entered this moment, he could only say "woe is me for I'm ruined." Saint Peter was recorded as proclaiming "Go from me Lord, for I'm a sinful man." Even the God-fearing Centurion sensed his utter unworthiness to stand in the presence of the Divine.

There is a comfort and confidence to quash this dread. Christ's atoning death, resurrection and ascension, and the Father's election has allowed those in Christ to stand in His presence. It's not us, no in and of our selves we're still waterlogged turds worthy of the eternal flush. Yet in Christ and through Christ, we can enter into the presence of the Mighty One in the faith of knowing that we won't be smoking ash.

Timeless... after 25 years

The Fire still burns white hot...

she moves like a mysticlike a priestess tall and pale
she lays down the mysteryall her secrets are unveiled
wherever I look I see her there
wherever I go you know she's there
and she takes posession she has control
next to you I can touch the fire
and when the fever takes a holdnext to you I can touch the fire

her words fall in echosringing bells like gypsy rhymes
she has the powerno believer can explain
wherever I look I see her there
wherever I go you know she's there
and she takes posession she has control
next to you I can touch the fire
and when the fever takes a hold
next to you I can touch the fire
I feel the heat pumping in my veins
next to you I can touch the fire
I see myself going up in flames
next to you I can touch the fire

wherever I look I see her there
wherever I go you know she's there
she takes posessionshe has control
next to you I can touch the fire
and when the fever takes a hold
next to you I can touch the fire

I feel the heat pumping in my veins
next to you I can touch the fire
I see myself going up in flames
next to you I can touch the fire

she takes posession touch the firetouch the fire
I feel the heat pumping in my veins
next to you I can touch the fire
I see myself going up in flames
next to you I can touch the fire

The Desert

Those who know me know that last week, I spent time in the Nevada Desert. I've been in many states, countries and a variety of climates. None have matched the Desert. My time in the Desert verged on a Sacramental moment, and I'll be touching on this is the next few days.

Credo, Our Declaration of Faith

Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae,
et in Iesum Christum, Filium Eius unicum, Dominum nostrum,
qui conceptus est de Spiritu Sancto, natus ex Maria Virgine,
passus sub Pontio Pilato, crucifixus, mortuus, et sepultus,
descendit ad ínferos, tertia die resurrexit a mortuis,
ascendit ad caelos, sedet ad dexteram Patris omnipotentis,
inde venturus est iudicare vivos et mortuos.
Credo in Spiritum Sanctum,
sanctam Ecclesiam catholicam, sanctorum communionem,
remissionem peccatorum,
carnis resurrectionem,
vitam aeternam.
Amen.

...Or, In the Lingua Anglica...

I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.
I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord.
He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary.
He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried.
He descended into hell. On the third day he rose again.
He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting.
Amen.

Meet Molotov Mitchell

This Guy, a fellow Christian Libertarian, truly rocks!

On a Cold Saxon Night in 1986

If you were there, you would know...