Always Reforming

One of the aspects of my journey to Anglicanism has been learning to view Roman Catholics and Eastern Orthodox Christians as brothers in Christ.  This is not to say that they don't have serious theological errors (don't worry--I'm not going back to Rome or Constantinople), but I do think we can learn from them and that we should respect them as brothers in Christ who hold to ancient Christian traditions.  The Reformed tradition, of course, is novel by comparison, as much the Reformers claimed to be restoring seminal Christianity.   I know many Reformed believers who view Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy as non, or even anti, Christian.  Having been raised Reformed Presbyterian, I certainly grew up with this impression.  Reformed people generally desire to be as exclusive as possible.  It's not their fault--it's in their blood.  They have spent the past five centuries trying to maintain the truth as those around them have compromised. ...

Is this the end? Of an era? Of a life? Is this an identity lost? A path forsaken? Or is this the beginning? A regeneration? A rebirth? Is this a moment  For self-determination? For redefinition? Conflicted, I am Overwhelmed By this  Confluence of changes, By this Preponderance of goodbyes, By this Copernican Revolution Revolving around me. So much of who I was, I am no longer. I see Your hand Slowly closing the door, Into the distance I see Familiarity recede, This chapter is over, I am ready for the next.

As we reflect on the past year, we are faced with a difficult question: are Americans trustworthy?  That is, should the American populace be trusted to make decisions for themselves?  Can we rely on the average American to make the proper, moral, responsible choice?    The ruling class in America would respond with a resounding " NO! "  After all, the elites think very little of their subjects.  Every public health order issued drips with disdain and assumes that hell itself would break loose if average citizens were given liberty.  Government bureaucrats and wealthy tycoons, together comprising our unofficial aristocracy, seek to protect us from ourselves with an almost religious fervor. Given the behavior exhibited by many throughout COVID, it seems that most Americans concur with this assessment of the common man .  They do not want freedom.  They do not want liberty.  They handle responsibility, that indispensable concomitant of fr...

'Twas a good Friday, You might say, the very best, For fallen mankind. 'Twas a bad Friday, In fact, the worst day of all, For the Son of Man. The robe, placed for sport, The crown, thorny yet regal, The backbreaking cross. The feet that crushed hell, The hands that worked miracles, Pierced by transgressions. The Lord brutalized, Yahweh hung upon a tree, The Almighty slain. Blood and water spilt, But not a bone broken, proved That it was finished. 'Twas a bad Friday, In fact, the worst day of all, For the Son of Man. 'Twas a good Friday, You might say, the very best, For fallen mankind.

In today's world it is altogether too easy to become alarmist or escapist.  In fact, it is difficult not to overreact when surveying a culture that is nihilistic, post-Christian, politically divided, and which increasingly embraces (one could say assumes ) government intervention in the lives of private citizens.  Rod Dreher, however, presents a case and strategy for living calmly and strategically as we watch Western Civilization crumble around us.  Without mitigating the seriousness of our situation, Dreher advises Christians to live faithfully, boldly, and separately, without becoming cultish or tribal.  The Church, after all, will be here long after Western Civilization falls, and we are called to be the salt and light of the world.  The Benedict Option   begins by acquainting the reader with St. Benedict of Norcia, the founder of the Benedictine Order of monks and the author of the monastic Rule that now bears his name.  Dreher compares our day t...

Written 03/27/19 The beauty, The brutality, Of life Are found in its Symmetry. Between  Cradle and grave Lie the Strength and dreams Of men. Nature, That blind and ruthless Executioner, With each fell swoop of her blade She reminds mortal men That she is unwieldy, Unyielding and absolute, A dire certainty Appointed at the Fall. We are born, We die, We evolve, We dwindle, We learn, We forget. Our limbs, Once strong and sinewy, Our minds, Once shrewd and piercing, Become obsolete, Our lungs, Once heaving violently, One day lie still. The sun rises only to set, The Spring blooms only to Be buried beneath the frigid frostline, Men arise only to fade into The obscurity of the grave. And as they slip from the memories Of those who held them so dear, Nothing but weathered headstones Remain to commemorate their Unwilling participation in this Unwitting cycle of life.

Is this real? Awake, yet Dreaming, I stumble through This nightmare. Is this real life? I hear something on the news, I think to myself, I need to tell Dad, But I can't.  Is this my reality now? I haven't cried since the funeral, I'm still sad, But I'm all out of tears For now. I know, But I do not yet feel, The bitter truth. When is this going  To feel Real?