On a Thursday in Lent

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions. Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.

Embarking on a Lenten Journey – Part One

Is it me, or are these seasons coming at us with ever-increasing speed?

I woke this morning to find myself 72 hours into the forty-day trek of Lent. In the quiet that exists between the alarm clock and the stirring of the Terriers, I thought of how my understanding of this season has evolved over the years. As a child and pre-teen, it was little more than meatless Fridays and some vague notion of giving something up, like chewing gum. It also meant attending strange masses that involved ashes and kissing the crucifix. It wasn’t a total drag, due to the knowledge that there was a big basket of candy at the end of the road, and the hopes that this year, there’d be a “solid” chocolate Easter bunny in the basket.

Early adulthood took me into the dry steppes of American Pentecostalism where sadly, I eschewed Lent as a “romish superstition”. I can look back in retrospect at this life season and understand that it was heavily influenced by theologically illiterate preachers and a toxic diet of Jack Chick, the American Iconoclast. (I could devote volumes to this man and the damage he has wrought in the lives of unsuspecting believers, but I digress.) Though I regret this wasted period, I have to believe that the Almighty was taking it and using it for His purposes.

Early in the last Decade, my attentions were turned back to the thought of Lent. Though still entrenched within the Pentecostal zeitgeist, a seasonal concept was re-emerging. Lent began to take on a contemplative, devotional character, especially during Holy week. I would focus in on the Gospel narratives that took place between the Triumphal Entry and the Crucifixion. Good Friday became a highly focused day as I would look at the clock and mentally replay the events as recorded by the four Evangelists. Again in retrospect, I see a “Divine Guiding” of my understanding of these Forty Days.

So, what of Lent today in March 2011 Deacon? Lent has become a season of “Re’s”. It’s a reminder that I was conceived in sin and born completely fallen and broken. I have nothing good within me in which to bring to the table or to stand before a Holy, Almighty God. If I’m ever to have a hope in this life or the next, I need a Redeemer and Advocate who stands before the Supreme as propitiation. It’s a time of Refocusing, where one must consider who they are in Christ and His kingdom. Its forty days to ponder a calling and vocation. Finally, I’ve understood the season as a time of renewal and revival. These forty days are an opportunity to yield oneself to the Almighty, seeking to have a “right spirit renewed within” as the Psalmist says. In this yielding, we have the opportunity to experience true revival within our lives.

So, a Blessed Lent to all in 2011.

Awesome Shuttle Footage

Some of the best Shuttle footage I've seen.

Going way, way back Tonight

This one takes me all the way back to Wednesday night youth group meetings on Governor's Ave in Dover, DE.

Yesterday's Worship Set

From the Pulpit

We're in the beginning of a sermon series from the Gospel of Luke at Celebration Church. Previously, we were three weeks in the Desert with the Temptation of Christ. This Sunday, The Master is out of the Desert and in Nazareth. Your humble Deacon will reflect on this vignette from Luke's Gospel.

A Sad Anniversary

Thirty-eight years ago this coming week, the landscape of this nation was inexorably altered, and I would contend altered for the worst. I'm speaking of the the U.S. Supreme Court's ruling in the Roe v. Wade decision.

Thanks to Roe v. Wade, we now live in a nation whose judiciary has ruled that a viable child (referred to a fetus in an Orwellian effort of dehumanization) may be forced from the sanctuary of the womb and fatally wounded to speed his or her demise. Thirty-eight years down the road, abortion is no longer the sad choice of a woman between a rock and a hard place, it is a divine right that is available at the taxpayer's dollar. Some in clerical collars have even gone on to insinuate that the act is "sacramental".

The reality of what abortion is was flung in our faces in all its visceral details this past week with the case of the Kermit Gosnell, who ran a shambles in Philadelphia. I absolutely refuse to use terms like "Doctor" or "Clinic" in the case of this man who has by all appearances, used the Hippocratic Oath as so much bum wipe. In his fetid butcher shop, children who could have easily been delivered and whisked off to a neonatal unit were callously dispatched by having their spinal cords severed from their brain stems. To add to the macabre sense of the operation, his facility was stocked with gristly trophies that attested to his handy work. Some of these were found in the same refrigerator used to store employee lunches.

Admittedly, this is the most horrific example of the holocaust that is abortion. Still, it doesn't erase the fact that each year, one million boys and girls enter American Abortion clinics alive and leave them as medical waste. Also, it doesn't mitigate the fact that in New York City, six out of ten minority pregnancies end in abortion.

As I write, I do not condemn those who have underwent this horrific procedure. There are a few exceptions to this, like the Australian couple who selfishly murdered their twin sons in-utero, for no better reason than the fact that they were "trying for a daughter".

I do condemn those who have sold this to women and young women. I condemn those who have framed abortion as a right envisioned by our founding fathers and mothers. I loudly condemn those spiritual leaders who are loudly lobbying and advocating this barbaric practice.

On the eve of the March for Life, I pray for the end of abortion in Virginia, America and the World. I pray for those who were duped into undergoing this procedure. I pray that they receive the spiritual and emotional healing at the hands of the Almighty.

Treachery

It's a frigid Saturday afternoon here in Suburbia Majora. Though the wind is blowing over a dusting of fresh-fallen snow, I'm inside listening to Vivaldi's "Gloria" and ruminating over the events of a very painful Friday afternoon where the acts of one individual reached their painful climax.

The good folks over at Merriam Webster define "Treachery" as:

"a violation of allegiance or of faith and confidence" or "an act of perfidy or treason"

Perhaps for the first time in my life, I and my family have been the victims of the treachery of another. This was no casual acquaintance; this was one whom my family had opened our home, our table, our purse, and our hearts to. We knew that the individual faced some profound psychological, personality and emotional challenges, but we loved and embraced her in spite of them. She was, for a number of years, a welcomed face. All of this abruptly changed in the late summer of 2010 when in a fever-brained fit, a false accusation was leveled by this individual. I'll spare you, the gentle reader the sordid details, but as a result of her lies, we now sit smarting and nursing our wounds all the while being several thousand dollars poorer for it.

My mind has run the full spectrum over the past twenty four hours. I don't want to hate her, nor see her come to a bad end, but I have to confess that those thoughts have been very powerful this morning. She has wounded my family through her lies and the desire for retribution and revenge are very strong and natural. Still, I find my self in conflict over those desires to see her suffer for the damage she's done. As a dad, I want to throttle her; as a Deacon, I want to look her in the eyes and say "Despite all that you've done, I forgive you." It is so infinitely easy to hate and and want to strike back in retaliation. It's a completely natural response when we've been wounded by another. Yet as the adopted offspring of the Almighty, we've been called to a new nature and a new response. Is this easy? I'd be either an outright liar or a pollyanna-ish fool if I said it was. God no! It is hard. Yet saints like Corrie Ten Boom have demonstrated to us that through the help of the Almighty, it is possible not to hate those who have wronged us.

So, with God's help, I say to this individual: "You've hurt and wounded me and my family. You've been a source of heartache and the cause for tears. And though every cell in by body would desire to curse you, I forgive you with the forgiveness that was given to me. With God's help, I will continue to forgive and ultimately forget your treachery. May God forgive you as well."

Flight 2011, You're cleared for Takeoff

It's truly amazing, but we've entered the second decade of the third millennium. Scary stuff in the fact that this is the Decade that the Catbird will turn fifty.... Truly an eeeek moment. Out of the gate on this New Year's weekend, I want to offer up my hopes/prayers for life in 2011. Specifically, prayers for the Nation, the Church, and this humble Deacon.

My hope and prayer for this Republic are simple and direct. I desire to see the United States of America return to her Constitutional roots. I want to see a strong, sufficient, and humble Republic that has rediscovered her first principles. I want to see a nation whose borders are secure, who welcomes and embraces those who lawfully enter, and repels those who wish to exploit her bounty or wish to do her harm. As the scion of immigrants, I fully grasp the rich diversity that a century and a half of lawful immigration has brought to this Republic. I want to see a nation that embraces fiscal responsibility and restraint. My prayer is that those who’ve been sent to Washington apprehend their responsibilities as elected representatives. I want to see individuals who won’t exceed their vested authority and wade off into extra-constitutional forays. I desire a President who will be an advocate, apologist and ambassador for his country, and not someone who snivels before tin-horn despots, apologizing for imagined grievances.

For my Church, I long to see a resurgent Anglicanism sweep across America. Though I’ve said it before from this blog, it bears repeating. It would be arrogant hubris to infer that Anglicanism is the only legitimate expression of Christianity in our world. But that being said, Anglicanism remains a faithful and trustworthy expression of the “Faith, once delivered”. Anglicanism landed on the sandy shores of the James River with our first settlers. It was the faith of the majority of our founding fathers. It was the faith of men like Wilberforce, who fought to end the evil practice of slavery. Far and away from the consumer-based practices of modern American Evangelicalism, Anglicanism is trans-testamental, connecting worshipers across time to the eternal. In a time when truth is personal and malleable, the Anglican expression offers a solid bridge between the temporal and eternal.

For this Deacon, well this is where it gets a little close.

I pray that I might become closer to the heart of the Almighty. I don’t want to be sanctimonious, or out of touch. I want to stand in His presence with a “short” account. I want to be able to look across the panorama of humanity and see Christ in every face I encounter. I pray that I might be able to reach out with the hands and heart of the Savior in all I do. I want to point folk away from the “hard knock” life, and towards the eternal, abundant life in our Savior.