It Doesn't Look Like America Anymore

It wasn't a vision and it wasn't a daydream. It was an awakening of sorts for an eleven year old boy. My guess is that it was December for the giant snowflakes would not have moved me so in the middle of a winter that had already seen many snowstorms come in off of Lake Erie. The year was probably 1961. There must not have been any friends available to pal around with for I was walking aimlessly as the snow was falling fast and sticking. The tree could not have been more than twenty feet...more of a big bush than a tree but it still stood above the flat Buffalo landscape. The ground was barely covered by the fresh snow but those large flakes landing on the bare limbs made climbing the tree...bush...inviting, and I did. I sat on the highest limb that would support me. To my right was the apartment complex that I had grown up in, three story red brick buildings placed almost as a maze with plenty of grass in between, perfect for young boys to play football on. If there was anyone outside with me that day they are no longer in my memory. Looking to my right, towards the red brick, gave me feelings of security for almost everyone knew their neighbor. Looking to my left was almost as a frontier. It was just a very large, seemingly endless, open field that I had explored often finding and breaking open the most interesting rocks. Directly behind me was the United States Post Office and the Stars and Stripes flew proudly above even the apartment buildings. Often, when the flag was not raised, we would swing like Tarzan from the ropes until the local police cruiser pulled in and then we ran. I pondered the beauty of the snowflakes that day. It was as if I never experienced anything majestic before. I remember gazing off over the open field as if I were in the crows nest of the Mayflower looking off to see if I could spot the new world. I revisited that spot and that tree not too many years ago, almost wanting to climb it again. Instead I stood at its base and tried to put myself back into 1961. I looked to my right and it seemed as if not a single thing had changed, for the red brick buildings looked exactly as they always had. No new buildings had been added nor any taken down. Only one change was immediately obvious, the line of metal trees with clothesline connecting them was gone. I looked off to my left and there was no field whatsoever, only an eight lane highway dug into the ground so that if you looked straight out you saw houses in the distance but if you walked a little bit closer it was if another world existed beneath the surface of my boyhood.  The frontier was domesticated, its treasures pillaged. Oh there was one more change. Looking behind me, the Post Office was gone along with the flagpole and Stars and Stripes. I had the feeling that the people living in these same red brick buildings did not know each other anymore. Just a feeling. Had I climbed that tree I would have had to look down into that abyss of vehicles as hundreds of people came into my life and vanished just as quickly without my even getting to see what they looked like. I didn't feel secure anymore as strangers were to my right with the faceless to my left. There was no flag representing America towering over me, no eagle ready to attack a lurking enemy. Nor could I run home and watch Gunsmoke where the good guy always won. I wasn't lost for I knew where I was. It was America that was lost, buried under the soil that provided the ditch for the highway that took everyone somewhere but no one really anywhere that looked like America anymore.

America's Single Most Correctable Problem!

The single most correctable problem that faces our nation is the Sunday sermon, the failure to preach Christ when we gather together for worship on the Lord's Day! Most readers would probably disagree, "Our pastor preaches Jesus Christ every week" they might say. They say this because they have experienced one and only one paradigm for the Sunday sermon from today's evangelicalism and judge everything upon this grid. Should God move upon the shepherds in these pulpits; the news media, atheists, liberals and all those who cringe at the name of Jesus Christ will have no recourse but to sit and watch as a nation reverts in an awesome display of humility and reverence to the One who blessed it from before its very beginning. The following are only three of the blogs I had written on this subject:

Why Johnny Can't Preach .....September 27, 2009

If I only had the opportunity to write one entry on this blog, it would be an appeal to pastors to preach Christ and His cross. There are many things in which we deserve rebuke, but none more so than the clergy's failure to preach Christ consistently from the pulpit on the Lord's Day and our failure to require such from the men in the pulpits. I recently came across a small, newly published, paperback book called Why Johnny Can't Preach by Grove City College professor T. David Gordon. (isbn 9781596381162 P&R Publishing) This book was highly recommended by a ministry that I know to be very good and the book was everything and more than I even hoped, for it is concise, clear and powerful. One must expend every effort to reject Professor Gordon's argument. I don't have it in front of me for I have passed on a few copies and intend to purchase more for this reason. So many times, we agonize for some way that we can make a difference in our country. Distributing this book is one way and it strikes at the very heart of our problem, malnourishment from the lack of preaching Christ and Him crucified! We can experience movements of various kinds within this present evangelicalism. We can be instrumental in putting a political party into office that shores up the dikes for a while. We can have an evangelical president, legislate against egregious assaults on our foundations and see the battle go our way, for a time, but our presence will ultimately be resistible and ineffective without a genuine transformation in accordance with God's express will, through the power of His Spirit and with the proclamation of Jesus Christ, in all His majesty, power and glory, before us every time that we gather on His day. Most everyone believes that Christ is preached in their church. This because they have nothing to compare it to. They do not know what is lacking, therefore there is no urgency. Here is one litmus test you might consider; if when the service is over, the sermon has been preached, the benediction given, you do not need a few moments to gather yourself, to take a deep breath and consider what you have just heard, the momentousness of how it has effected your life and eternal soul, and the souls of all those whom you love who believe, then you have not heard Christ preached.

More Food SirNovember 15,

The following is a paragraph from Charles Dickens Oliver Twist where the boys who lived at the workhouse were issued three meals of thin gruel a day, with an onion twice a week, and a half a roll on Sundays. The boys cast lots and Oliver was chosen to ask for a second portion of food. Here are Dickens words: The evening arrived; the boys took their place. The master, in his cook's uniform stationed himself at the copper; his pauper assistants ranged themselves behind him; the gruel was served out; and a long grace was said over the short commons. The gruel disappeared; the boys whispered themselves, and winked at Oliver; while his neighbors nudged him. Child as he was, he was desperate with hunger, and reckless with misery. He rose from the table; and advancing to the master, basin and spoon in hand, said: somewhat alarmed at his own temerity: 'Please sir, I want some more food.' There have been times, in the past, when I have gone up to a pastor after the sermon and essentially said the same thing, More food sir? There are many throughout Christian churches in this country who are malnourished and probably some congregations where an Oliver was chosen, or volunteered. The problem becomes even more complicated for there have been times when I had been fed overwhelming portions and failed to acknowledge it and be thankful, but as in personal finances, maybe it's good to experience lean times in order to be thankful in fatter times. The problem becomes even more pronounced in that the vast majority of those who do not hear the gospel, do not even know it.

Take The Grapefruit Test......June 19, 2011

I'm a person of habits....to an alarming degree. I would never put my right boot on first! What kind of crazy lunatic would do that? I was in a quandary the other day after work. My routine is to take my seat behind the wheel and peel an orange while offering some thoughts of thanksgiving after the days work. I enjoy an orange every day on my ride home. This particular day, Wednesday I believe it was, I reached in my bag only to find a grapefruit! I had mistaken the orange...orange, for the orange grapefruit in the fridge. What to do? Do I drive for twenty minutes in disarray having no orange slices to put in my mouth.....or do I peel the grapefruit and put the grapefruit slices in my mouth? I opt for the latter for both oranges and grapefruits are citrus fruits. Technically I was in keeping with my habit but my face was contorted, and eyes watering the entire trip home. Are you a person of habits also. You may have gone to this particular church you belong to for so long that every hymnbook in the sanctuary must have your DNA on it. You sit in this certain pew and say hello to the same six people and give a thirteen word statement about the weather to the pastor on the way out every week. What kind of lunatic would, short of excommunication, go to another church when everything is so.....non-threatening? What I am insinuating here is that you MAY need to look for another church. Try this test. Take a Tupperware container of grapefruit slices to church with you and eat one every time our redemption through the blood of Christ is mentioned. If you leave with a full container it may be time to reassess your church membership. If someone calls for the EMTs during the service....well, as Roseanne Rosannadanna would say..."Never Mind."

Two Score And Three Years Ago

Honestly, it doesn't seem like 43 years since I joined the army. A couple of years ago I went back to Pittsburgh's Federal Building to see an old friend. I stood in the lobby and looked towards the glass doors and could almost picture myself walking through them, suitcase in hand, back in 1969. Why God had mercy on one such as I... I will never know in this life. Why would He give blessings to one that He knew would so often trample them? If you have never had thoughts such as this, you must run out to get them. If you are a Christian and certain talk about God seems a little bit too syrupy for you then you must find out why that is the case. I don't believe that it's a litmus test for being a Christian, rather more of an eye test where for some believers only the top few lines are clear. The following blog from last year is about my eight weeks in Basic Training which began 43 years ago tomorrow. Many memories remain but none as vital as that of a 19 year old who did not know Christ nor his need of Christ. It would be roughly 13 years till the first line on that eye chart became clear enough for me to call out for mercy to Jesus...the Christ...the Son of God....the Lamb of God....the one who knows us better than we know ourselves....the one who came "not to call the righteous but sinners"... and the coming King and Lord of Glory! It would probably be close to another 13 years until I found out that I was indeed dead in my sins and could not have called out, and could never call out without first being regenerated from above.... a salvation even more amazing!!


It was September 19th, 1969. My aunt had driven me to the Federal Building in Pittsburgh and my mother was also in the car. I said my good-byes as I got out in front of the main entrance. The light was just breaking from the east and I followed the directions given to me and got on the elevator to go up to the floor where enlistments were taking place. There might have been thirty or forty of us there that day. We were given meal tickets for lunch and spent the morning filling out paperwork. At lunch I strolled around the floor that the cafeteria was on for I was not, as of yet, in this man's army. After lunch we took our physicals, the standard turn your head and cough variety, in a line of men standing around in their briefs. We filled out some additional paperwork including signing the enlistment papers and finally were ushered into a small room with the Stars and Stripes proudly hanging at the front. We were told to raise our right hands and repeat the oath of enlistment. Finally in the army? Most of the guys were directed to buses with a final destination of Fort Jackson, South Carolina but Harry W. and I were on another bus headed to Pittsburgh International Airport to catch a flight to Philly. Walking around the airport, I still did not feel like I was in the Army. Harry W. was a wonderful guy who resembled Drew Carey only not as good looking, was only a little taller than Danny DeVito and had a bad case of acne. The stewardesses were very pretty and Harry W. was really putting on the moves. The ladies were literally falling all over him...and ignoring me. Now what was wrong with this picture? I figured that personality must have something to do with this girl thing and that maybe I should try to get one...never did though. We arrived in Philly and followed directions once again to a limousine that would take us to Fort Dix, New Jersey... one long haired hippy type and a short, balding one who had a way with the girls. It was about midnight when we finally arrived at the wooden framed hut. Once again we were filling out paperwork with others who were arriving one by one. We were given mattresses and a couple of sheets and told to find a bunk....the end of a very long day. Finally in the Army? Morning came with loud shouts to hustle across the street for some breakfast and then report back. We were not marched because we had not yet been told which was our left foot and which our right. Next came a longer wooden building where we were issued the standard gear of fatigues, boots, socks, green underwear, a hat and duffel bag to put them all in. One better have the sizes ready for there were no questions taken and no words accepted except small, medium or large. I looked at myself in the mirror. Finally in the army? Nah. After lunch it was another cattle drive over to the barber's hut which had six long pew like benches and a long line of guys sliding down one place at a time as the one in front had his head shaved. To this day I wonder if these were actual barbers or if this was a second job after running a backhoe at night for it took less than a minute to run those clippers up and down the scalp. I put my hat back on and now it came down over my eyebrows. There I was, outfitted and bald. Finally in the army? We were introduced, if I can use that phrase, to a Drill Sergeant who was cordial and related stories from Vietnam for it seemed that all of them had just returned. This wasn't so bad after all. We spent two days being led around to various stations including the dentist where we established records to be kept until the day we would leave the army. Then came a surprise. We were bused over to another section of Fort Dix where the buildings were all brick. Off the bus we were herded and told to go into the barracks, find a cot to dump our duffel bags on and come right back out. We did this and casually formed some semblance of a line. Then Drill Sergeant Carter appeared out of no where. We were told exactly what we looked like and as I remember it had something to do with goats, Gilligan and Bullwinkle J. Moose. This guys jaw definitely jutted out farther than his nose. He was built solid and stood firm as a rock and we were later told that he still had plenty of metal in his back from Vietnam. Back to the barracks and the lights were out at nine. The next thing that I knew I was flying off the bunk into the air simultaneously as the lights came on. I was the unlucky one to pick the first bunk from the door. It was 5 AM and we had five minutes to be outside in formation. I still didn't know what a formation was. Left Face was the command and I was face to face with another guy. Panic had set in for one of us turned the wrong way. Fortunately the other guy was wrong and he was questioned as to what grade in elementary he ended his schooling in. We then started out in the darkness on my first actual march which soon became a quick time as we were then repeating, rather yelling, after Drill Sergeant Carter, that we wanted to be airborne rangers...go to Vietnam and kill those Viet Cong. Finally in the army? Reaching the mess hall we entered in a rather strange way. One line was released at a time and was to charge the mess hall yelling like banshees. I guessed there was a reason for that. One week followed another of pushing, shoving, marching, running, push-ups, climbing, shouting, singing and lunging with a bayonet. Six weeks into basic we were finally allowed to go to the PX. Most guys bought stationary, candy, cigarettes and paperback books. I bought Ian Fleming's Goldfinger. Finally came our week on the rifle range. I had never held a rifle in my life. When a recruit had a rifle in his hands he also had a Drill Sergeant two inches from his ear. They must think that we might turn the wrong way. No one complained. I was firing at targets I could not see and had no idea if I was hitting them but I must have because I did not have to go back. If someone had to urinate...silly comment...there was a large vat buried in the ground. No problem here...until it got filled up and had to be emptied. A small crane was brought in and four unlucky guys had to stand around it, shoveling and shaking it back and forth to get it free all the while standing in four to six inched of urine. Guess who one of those unlucky guys was? Finally in the army? We were bonding heavily as the fourth platoon and even more so to Drill Sergeant Carter. We were on a mission to win that PT award and we didn't particularly have any feelings of camaraderie towards the other three platoons, one of which occupied the other half of the floor we were on and one night we wound up in a big scrum, fighting over who got the mops and buckets first. Graduation came. It had been eight long, hard weeks. We, the fourth platoon, were psyched as we waited for the announcement of the PT award for we desperately wanted Drill Sergeant Carter to be acknowledged for it. And he was! Our squad leader was to march us back to the barracks and we had a fine idea to form the number four and march in it. The breaks on a car squealed and a Colonel got out who did not appreciate the meaning. He was up one side of that squad leader and down the other with words that one might expect out of the mouth of Hillary Clinton but not an officer in the United States Army. We were given the last night off and headed over to the EM Club for our first beers in two months. Walking, if you can call it that, back to the barracks, one of us fell out of a tree in front of us. Now how one could be with us one moment and then fall out of a tree in front of us the next, I never did find out. Finally in the army? When morning came we all waited around a slew of buses to take us to our advanced training with most going in different directions. We were given our platoon picture that morning and passed them around to be signed. I still have this picture with about forty signatures on the back. I alone got on the bus that was to take me to my advanced training and waved to the guys, the friends, that I would never see again the rest of my life, or even know how they made out. Finally in the army!

America, America...God Mend Thine Every Flaw

The following blog is reprinted from March of 2011:

America, America...God Mend Thine Every Flaw

Not since the Civil War has America been imperilled as it is today. The national debt can never be paid down and it went over that edge because of political motivations. We are so globally intertwined that even if we straightened out our own paths, we are handcuffed to others who have no desire to do so. China, no friend to us whatsoever, at least their civilian and military leadership, can bring us down if they want to and if their own current events go south they may implement this option. Israel is surrounded and its enemies, like a pack of wolves or shiver of sharks, need only the smell of blood to unleash another war. Russia would sell our enemies the noose to hang us. Both China and Russia are building their militaries while we are more concerned with what armament contracts can bring in the most votes. Our media, in the main, hates conservative principles, our traditions and heritage, to such an extent that the Marxist, Bill Ayers, Saul Alinsky cabal has a veritable free rein in propagandizing a sizable postmodern, politically correct, idol craving culture. Our borders are porous, bureaucrats legislate and George Soros sits on a mountaintop with his minions ready to swoop down on Dorothy and Toto to steal those ruby slippers. The events of 9/11 even pale in comparison to the organized effort today on every level to bring us down. Yet with all these dangers, and many more, the President of this besieged nation golfs on weekends, parties at night and has shown today that he is more informed and interested in picking the winners in March Madness then any of the aforementioned problems, and others, any one of which can send this world into a tailspin. I wrote in a November 13, 2009 blog titled America...The Beautiful that We know who built this nation. They were in the pulpits, pews and courts, on farms and in the cities, under pilgrim, tricorn and coonskin caps, Civil War kepis, Cavalry hats, helmets and berets. They cooked and sewed and drove rivets when needed. They wore blue and grey, G. I. Brown, navy white, air force blue, jungle and desert camo. Heroes are born in the cauldron of trying times and we are seeing them again today. One can start with Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker who is actually doing what he promised in his campaign. One might look to Congressman Pete King who refuses to listen to the politically correct crowd as he brings the topic of domestic Islamic fundamentalism under the scrutiny of Congressional hearings, and Florida Congressman Alan West who also steps out to sound this alarm. How about South Carolina Senator Jim DeMint (my choice for President) who warned the incoming Tea Party freshman that they could expect the establishment pols to apply every pressure for them to stay quietly at the end of the line (and some have). Indiana Congressman Mike Pence says that its time to fight. Florida Senator Marco Rubio says he didn't come to the Senate to play games.You can use the term African-American with Thomas Sowell, Star Parker, Herman Cain, and many others who have the same intelligence and grit if you want but I only hear American! Brigitte Gabriel is more a patriot than those who dismiss her. Minnesota Congresswoman Michele Bachmann pushes so hard against the gangster mentality of this administration that she draws more spasmodic tantrums than anyone from the leftist revolution. Even Newt Gingrich, to his credit, may have been the first to bring up the subject of possible impeachment. Sarah Palin took on New Jersey Governor Chris Christie (sit down big fella, your not anointed yet.) More than a dozen states are saying prove your eligibility before running to be our President. And Sheriff Joe Arpaio....now there's a real American sheriff! How about the Christian women who, in their limited free time, would rather read of Ruth and Orpah than watch Ellen and Oprah; Christan fathers whose children see them thanking God before every meal, Faithful pastors who say you can keep the crowds, I'll preach Christ and seek the approval of the crowds of witnesses gone on before; of teachers whose first priority is the children; of conservatives on university campuses who are two bright to be scammed; of every country music singer that sings of God, family and country; of every retiree who did their part and now shares their wisdom; of every union member who says I'll fight for what is right and not for what isn't; of every janitor at a Tea Party who is a giant compared to the executive who would rather be on the golf course, and of our military in every mess hall and PX, behind every desk or 50mm gun-wearing private stripes or brass. These are some of our heroes. This nation may not survive. Why God has not ended this experiment as of now is the real mystery but even if we do, their will be a remnant giving glory to God for past mercies given to us that we might help others. I'll finish this blog as I did on November 13th of 2009 with lyrics from that amazing song written by Katherine Lee Bates a century ago.

O beautiful for spacious skies,
for amber waves of grain,
for purple mountain majesties
above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee
and crown thy hood with brotherhood
from sea to shining sea.

O beautiful for pilgrim feet
Whose stern impassioned stress
A thoroughfare of freedom beat
Across the wilderness.
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw.
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law.

O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife.
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness
and every gain divine.

O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea.

Pulpit.....Not The Podium.....Redux

The following blog is from August 7, 2011

Pulpit...Not The Podium

One of the running themes in this blog is the need for America to humble itself before God, before God humbles us before our numerous enemies. Yesterday (August 6th, 2011) Texas Governor Rick Perry hosted a major prayer event in Houston of upwards of 25,000 people with that very message. One might therefore expect the writer of this blog to wholeheartedly rejoice in this but that's not the case. I agree with the diagnosis, but not prescription of a media event. We are falling apart in every way imaginable. Our Congress is clueless which is a description far too generous to use on our White House. Our culture is in chaos. Our media is in denial while our enemies are certain of our collapse. Pep rallies are not the answer especially when politics is part of it. I'm not questioning the intent of the organizers or Governor Perry for I know what it is like to finally figure out that America is collapsing because its reliance upon God has vanished and because we have gone our own way and God is permitting us to reap what we have sown. I have probably written a dozen times in this blog on the need for America to humble itself before God and I hope in those blogs that I made it known that I was talking about myself as much as anyone who might read it. Ultimately, we do not have to see America's sins clearer...we have to see more clearly the one sinned against (God.) A deficient view of the holiness of God can result in feelings of a satisfactory repentance and the consequent projection upon others of the need to do so also. A heightened view of the holiness of God will hardly get one off the hook so easily. The Puritan mind could see God and His character clearer, hence repentance was an everyday occurrence as they humbly approached God for all their needs. The secular mind of today describes that Puritan mind as a lifelong quest to quench joy in anyone and everyone. The Evangelical mind is a product of these times....on display in Christian bookstores, Christian music concerts and events, and fundraising telethons, and is much more susceptible to a good gimmick than what is really needed. The podium, the bookstore and the blogosphere can indeed address our inflated view of ourselves, our minds and the turmoil that lies ahead but only the pulpit can effectively deflate that view, soften the heart and ease the burdened soul through the proclamation of redemption through the blood of Christ as written in God's Word. The speaker on the dais and the soapbox (too often) tends to point out every culprit except the one standing on it and those gathered together to listen. We attended a Lutheran church (Missouri Synod) this past week while traveling. I scoured the local church websites looking for a Lord's Day sermon topic on Christ and, as I had done in the past, wound up choosing the Lutheran church, for the atonement is at least always present in the liturgy if not the sermon. As it happened, a "retired" minister was filling the pulpit for the regular pastor. In essence, his sermon was "Christ is the only answer." A worshipper came up to my wife and recommended that we should come back next week when the regular pastor is in the pulpit but I think that we were blessed with the right day, the right minister and the right message. In our (America's)storied past, calls for national days of prayer and fasting have been corporate, where the composer of the call was in need of repentance as any of the represented, but ultimately the pulpit is what God utilizes in calling individuals and nations to repentance. Unfortunately for today, our pulpits are in need of awakening. Such is our extreme dilemma.

 

The most well-known book on the topic of the holiness of God is titled just that The Holiness Of God.

Written by R. C. Sproul, most bookstores have it in stock but it can certainly be ordered or you can go directly to www.ligonier.org

Bon Voyage!

I hope this blog entry to be very short and very practical. The idea for it came from a conversation with a good friend where he, half sarcastically and half inquisitively, asked just what this being born again was. I know that there must be visitors to this blog who wonder the same thing so I would like to steer them to a better resource than myself. A resource (actually three different resources) that if one really wants to learn more, even the basics, of the Christian faith; that if they put the time in...showing a real desire; then the likelihood of coming away without not only understanding the concept of being born again but maybe even becoming so, might be very great! There is no one involved except you and a radio, a computer or a book!  C. S. Lewis wrote that he was dragged, "kicking and screaming into the kingdom of God" where Michael Horton once threw his Bible against the wall as he started seeing truths that he wasn't prepared for from a book he already believed in. Well, enough of me, here are the three resources:

Ligonier Ministries and R. C. Sproul
www.ligonier.org
www.refnet.fm

Grace To You ministries and John MacArthur
www.gty.org

The White Horse Inn and Michael Horton
www.whitehorseinn.org

Just a little disclaimer here....all three of these men might very well disagree with a lot of what I write, particularly in the political realm, but it would be a great privilege to direct any and all to them!