because one of the great sins of our time is that we have forgotten our mortality, our brokeness and we assume a level of enlightenment we actually don’t possess. If one were to stop and contemplate their own thoughts, their own urges, they may be surprised at how little is wheat and how much is chaff blown in the wind.
Category: Life
One of the things…
Christianity reminds me of on an almost daily basis is that I was meant to be so much more. I don’t mean that in the “Jesus wants you to be rich, handsome, and skinny” way that seems to be prevalent in so much of American Christian culture. Rather its more about coming to understand the potential of the grace given.
In Christ there are unmeasurable depths of light and goodness and holiness. A thousand miles away from being anywhere close to Christ in my own life I can still see that. Yet its not intimidating. In fact its actually quite hopeful.
I know that in this life there may be only bits and pieces of the unmeasured grace of God that somehow bubble through to the surface of my life. Perhaps the best I will ever be before they bury me is just a small light taking light from the Light. Yet even a small light is still Light. Even a small bit of grace in me is still more than I could have ever been without it.
And some day, every hour a bit closer, the day of knowing in sight what I perceive now in shadows will come. The little light inside, sometimes blown about by the winds of the world, calls me to its Source, to a fullness I see now only as a horizon, to the more that I was called by grace to be.
And I am not afraid.
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Sometimes people ask…
what will you do when and if your sabbatical takes place and you leave St. Elias?
All is not yet clear but I will first be grateful for my time there. Then I will become the writer I was meant to be. I will practice the music that’s inside of me and hone the craft of Priesthood to a fine edge. I will sleep. I will hold my wife’s hand as often as I can. I will take long drives in the country and work through my prayer ropes. And if there is any time left I will sit on the rocks and watch the St. Croix river go by.
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A short rant…
Please understand, ladies, that the sexual revolution is over and men have won. We have convinced you that being promiscuous is liberating, that being an object is freedom, and we by and large have left you with the consequences while we do what we want. Only when you decide that you want something better and are willing to stick to your decisions will any of this change.
And men, we may have won but the victory is hollow. We got what we think we wanted, lots of sex without consequence, but behind the posturing there is still a desire for true love that remains unfulfilled no matter how many hook ups you record. You will never find your soul mate in America’s sexual jungle and nothing will change until you decide that you want something more.
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There are two places…
where I am most at peace. Wherever I am when I am playing music and in Church. They are both glorious in their own ways.
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Everybody gets on St. Peter's case…
about his lack of faith, but at least he walked on the water for a while before he sank. Most of us wouldn’t even have gotten out of the boat.
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Whirlwind Ministries…
is tucked inside what appears to be a gym with a kitchen attached. One door in. One door out. One half the room is table and the other half instruments with a pulpit shoehorned in between.
The walls are covered with pictures, trees mostly, and some holy thoughts. Perhaps one day someone said “I know, let’s get the kids to paint the wall” and this is what they got. Yet its all pleasant in a well worn kind of way, like the house of an aunt who never made much money but was still your favorite.
I was to be the bassist in the praise band, using the time up front to practice for a later prison ministry gig, and because of work I arrived late while the service was in full swing. Quickly unpacking I found my place in the music and began to play. Three chords, lots of repeating, and tons of emotion. The sounds system was loud, so loud that I had trouble at first picking out my bass notes, but it was the volume of passion. While we Orthodox may occasionally mumble a few notes Pentecostals sing from the bottom of their shoes.
Songs done, a sermon was next in the order of business, a young lady skipping from passage to passage, thought to thought, using a whiteboard to help her along. Bibles were open and occasionally someone joined in with a question or comment. I listened, and remembered. This was me, some time ago, the music, the sermon, everything. It’s been a million miles down the road, of course, but I had not forgotten.
Yes, I am a different person now, Orthodox through and through. I was never a good Pentecostal even when I hung around with them. Too much noise. Too many things going on. I could never imagine going back to that world. I love the beautiful stillness and holy peace of Orthodoxy. Yet one thing remains. The love.
Whatever else was going on, good, bad, or otherwise, there was love. Love in the music. Love in a parish with its doors wide open to folks from the local Gospel Mission. Even a love for holy things that jumped from place to place with the sermon. Come in broken, disheveled, lonely, or not quite right for “polite” society and Whirlwind’s heart was ready to expand to fit anyone who walked in.
Whatever else we have we don’t often have that and in their own way Whirlwind may be more Orthodox than we could ever imagine, or be.
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Six Million African Muslims Leave Islam per Year…
The Heritage of Western Civilization…
Interesting thoughts…
from Geert Wilders on muslimdebate.com. You may or may not like his politics but this is a chance to hear him speak about Islam in a candid way.
The Beautiful Path 