It is now official! Parish Presbyterian Church (PCA) In Franklin, Tennessee has been constituted as a mission of Christ Community Church and the Nashville Presbytery. Evening services will commence the first Sunday of Advent. The provisional elders have called me to be the organizing pastor. And, for that, I am extremely excited and grateful. Visit our temporary website for more information.
Sunday, November 12
Parish Presbyterian Church
It is now official! Parish Presbyterian Church (PCA) In Franklin, Tennessee has been constituted as a mission of Christ Community Church and the Nashville Presbytery. Evening services will commence the first Sunday of Advent. The provisional elders have called me to be the organizing pastor. And, for that, I am extremely excited and grateful. Visit our temporary website for more information.
The Pulpit
William Cowper (1731-1800) was an influential English poet and hymn writer who, with his spiritual mentor John Newton, helped to dramatically reform the character and canon of Evangelical hymnody. His long lyrical excursus on everyday British life, The Task, includes this beautiful reminder of the unlikely power of preaching:
The pulpit, (and I name it fill'd
With solemn awe, that bids me well beware
With what intent I touch that holy thing);
The pulpit (when the satirist has at last,
Strutting and vapouring in an empty school,
Spent all his force, and made no proselyte);
I say, the pulpit (in the sober use
Of its legitimate, peculiar pow'rs)
Must stand acknowledg'd, while the world shall stand,
The most important and effectual guard,
Support, and ornament of Virtue's cause.
The pulpit, (and I name it fill'd
With solemn awe, that bids me well beware
With what intent I touch that holy thing);
The pulpit (when the satirist has at last,
Strutting and vapouring in an empty school,
Spent all his force, and made no proselyte);
I say, the pulpit (in the sober use
Of its legitimate, peculiar pow'rs)
Must stand acknowledg'd, while the world shall stand,
The most important and effectual guard,
Support, and ornament of Virtue's cause.
Wednesday, November 8
Fluttering Only a Fringe
The midterm elections of 1994 resulted in Republicans winning a majority in the Senate while at the same time gaining control of the House for the first time in 40 years. It looks like today, that result has been finally, decisively reversed. For losers and winners alike, it is essential to remember that politics is important. But it is not all important. That is not just a modern phenomenon. It has always been a fact of life.
Many who live and die by the electoral sword will certainly be shocked to discover that most of the grand glorious headline making events in the political realm today will go down in the annals of time as mere backdrops to the real drama of everyday banalities. But it is so.
As much emphasis as is placed on campaigns, primaries, caucuses, conventions, elections, statutes, administrations, surveys, polls, trends, and policies these days, most of us know full well that the import of fellow workers, next door neighbors, close friends, and family members is actually far greater. Despite all the hype, hoopla, and hysteria of sensational turns of events, the affairs of ordinary people who tend their gardens and raise their children and perfect their trades and mind their businesses are, in the end, more important. Just like they always have been. Just like they always will be.
That is the great lesson of history. It is simply that ordinary people doing ordinary things are ultimately who and what determine the outcome of human events not princes or populists issuing decrees. It is that laborers and workmen, cousins and acquaintances can upend the expectations of the brilliant and the glamorous, the expert and the meticulous. It is that simple folks doing mundane chores can literally change the course of history because they are the stuff of which history is made. They are who and what make the world go round. As G.K. Chesterton has aptly observed, "The greatest political storm flutters only a fringe of humanity."
Thus, what many presume to be electoral apathy is merely electoral ambivalence. It is not that the American people believe that politics is insignificant. It is just a recognition that in the end, there are any number of things in life that are more significant.
Most of us would have to agree with the astute political axiom of commentator George Will, "Almost nothing is as important as almost everything in Washington is made to appear. And the importance of a Washington event is apt to be inversely proportional to the attention it receives."
Eugene McCarthy, once the darling of the New Left, also said it well, "Being in politics is like being a football coach; you have to be smart enough to understand the game, and dumb enough to think it’s important."
Intuitively, we know that is true. Especially on days like today.
Sozzled with preposterous false expectations and bedazzled by a ceaseless chatter of well meant platitudes, the media and the ideologues have told the truth about the falsehood that they tell. Like all the other quacks and conycatchers now crowding the public trough in Washington, their suppositions drift ethereally above normal logical processes and pass into the murky domain of transcendental metaphysics. Such is to be expected. That is their job. And they have done it.
So now, it is time for us to do our job--back in the real world.
Many who live and die by the electoral sword will certainly be shocked to discover that most of the grand glorious headline making events in the political realm today will go down in the annals of time as mere backdrops to the real drama of everyday banalities. But it is so.
As much emphasis as is placed on campaigns, primaries, caucuses, conventions, elections, statutes, administrations, surveys, polls, trends, and policies these days, most of us know full well that the import of fellow workers, next door neighbors, close friends, and family members is actually far greater. Despite all the hype, hoopla, and hysteria of sensational turns of events, the affairs of ordinary people who tend their gardens and raise their children and perfect their trades and mind their businesses are, in the end, more important. Just like they always have been. Just like they always will be.
That is the great lesson of history. It is simply that ordinary people doing ordinary things are ultimately who and what determine the outcome of human events not princes or populists issuing decrees. It is that laborers and workmen, cousins and acquaintances can upend the expectations of the brilliant and the glamorous, the expert and the meticulous. It is that simple folks doing mundane chores can literally change the course of history because they are the stuff of which history is made. They are who and what make the world go round. As G.K. Chesterton has aptly observed, "The greatest political storm flutters only a fringe of humanity."
Thus, what many presume to be electoral apathy is merely electoral ambivalence. It is not that the American people believe that politics is insignificant. It is just a recognition that in the end, there are any number of things in life that are more significant.
Most of us would have to agree with the astute political axiom of commentator George Will, "Almost nothing is as important as almost everything in Washington is made to appear. And the importance of a Washington event is apt to be inversely proportional to the attention it receives."
Eugene McCarthy, once the darling of the New Left, also said it well, "Being in politics is like being a football coach; you have to be smart enough to understand the game, and dumb enough to think it’s important."
Intuitively, we know that is true. Especially on days like today.
Sozzled with preposterous false expectations and bedazzled by a ceaseless chatter of well meant platitudes, the media and the ideologues have told the truth about the falsehood that they tell. Like all the other quacks and conycatchers now crowding the public trough in Washington, their suppositions drift ethereally above normal logical processes and pass into the murky domain of transcendental metaphysics. Such is to be expected. That is their job. And they have done it.
So now, it is time for us to do our job--back in the real world.
No More Plagued
On this day in 1787, Richard Allen and a number of other African American Methodists arrived at St. George's Methodist Episcopal Church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, to attend Sunday services. They were directed toward a newly built seating gallery, and mistakenly sat in its "white" section. During a prayer, white ushers pulled the black worshippers to their feet and demanded that they sit in the "proper" section. Humiliated, Allen--a former slave from Delaware who had joined the Wesleyan movement because of its work against slavery and who eventually became a licensed Methodist preacher--and several others left the church at the prayer's end. "They were no more plagued with us in the church," he later said dryly.
Similar indignities were suffered by African American Christians all across both the North and the South. There were incidents where children were refused baptism because white pastors refused to take the infants into their arms. Likewise free black parishioners were often forced to wait until all the whites had been served the Lord's Supper before they were admitted to the table. There were even conflicts over access to cemeteries.
In response to such discrimination, African American Methodists in Baltimore and Philadelphia began holding separate prayer meetings as early as 1786, two years after Methodism had made its way to American shores. Allen tried to buy a separate building for such meetings, but abandoned his plan in the face of white hostility. Recognizing the importance of black self-reliance, Allen, Absalom Jones, and others had formed the Free African Society--a benevolent organization whose commitment to abolition and the aiding of blacks in times of need became a model for other societies nationwide. But they were still dependent on dominant Methodist institutions.
By 1794 Philadelphia's black Methodists had raised enough money to build their own church, which a majority of the congregation voted to align with the Episcopalians rather than the Methodists. They named it the St. Thomas African Episcopal Church. Allen, however, believed that "no religious sect or denomination would suit the capacity of the colored people as well as the Methodists, for the plain and simple gospel suits best for any people." Thus, he purchased a blacksmith shop with his own money and converted it into a storefront church. Methodist Bishop Frances Asbury named it the Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church.
By 1816 black Methodists, still facing persistent discrimination, had come to believe that separate churches were not enough. Allen and a number of other prominent African American pastors decided to organize under the name the African Methodist Episcopal Church. Afterward, they successfully sued for independence before the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania. Not surprisingly, Richard Allen became the first AME bishop.
Similar indignities were suffered by African American Christians all across both the North and the South. There were incidents where children were refused baptism because white pastors refused to take the infants into their arms. Likewise free black parishioners were often forced to wait until all the whites had been served the Lord's Supper before they were admitted to the table. There were even conflicts over access to cemeteries.
In response to such discrimination, African American Methodists in Baltimore and Philadelphia began holding separate prayer meetings as early as 1786, two years after Methodism had made its way to American shores. Allen tried to buy a separate building for such meetings, but abandoned his plan in the face of white hostility. Recognizing the importance of black self-reliance, Allen, Absalom Jones, and others had formed the Free African Society--a benevolent organization whose commitment to abolition and the aiding of blacks in times of need became a model for other societies nationwide. But they were still dependent on dominant Methodist institutions.
By 1794 Philadelphia's black Methodists had raised enough money to build their own church, which a majority of the congregation voted to align with the Episcopalians rather than the Methodists. They named it the St. Thomas African Episcopal Church. Allen, however, believed that "no religious sect or denomination would suit the capacity of the colored people as well as the Methodists, for the plain and simple gospel suits best for any people." Thus, he purchased a blacksmith shop with his own money and converted it into a storefront church. Methodist Bishop Frances Asbury named it the Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church.
By 1816 black Methodists, still facing persistent discrimination, had come to believe that separate churches were not enough. Allen and a number of other prominent African American pastors decided to organize under the name the African Methodist Episcopal Church. Afterward, they successfully sued for independence before the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania. Not surprisingly, Richard Allen became the first AME bishop.
Tuesday, November 7
Voting
Karen and I stood in line almost two hours on this dreary, rainy evening in order to cast our votes--so much for our effecient new voting machines. I never dreamed that I would go to such lengths and still only have candidates to vote against rather than candidates to vote for--so much for the present state of American politics.
The Little School That Could
Franklin Classical School is little. By design. We focus on academics. On purpose. We keep our tuition as low as we possibly can. In principle. Our resources are thus quite limited. Of necessity. So, it probably surprises a lot of floks when they see FCS do big things. Really big things. Like staging the Uttermost 3-day, 175-mile, duathlon. Like presenting a first-rate cultural award to a national figure like Jan Karon. Like winning state and national titles in football. Uh, say what?
Yep. You read it right. Little bitty Franklin Classical School went undefeated this year in football. Little bitty Franklin Classical School went on to the playoffs and won the Tennessee state title. Little bitty Franklin Classical School then proceeded to win the National Christian Athletic League title.
Wow! I'm amazed. And, ever so grateful for the Lord's bounteous grace, mercy, and blessing.
Saturday, November 4
Chalmers Award
Following a wonderful evening, I'm posing here with the Chalmers Cultural Vision Award that I had presented to Jan Karon just moments before.
Best-selling author, Jan Karon, speaks during a special assembly at Franklin Classical School this past week.
Thursday, November 2
Jan Karon and the Chalmers Award
Tonight, in a special ceremony with a thousand of her fans in attendance, I will be privileged to give Jan Karon, the New York Times bestselling author of the Mitford series, the first Chalmers Cultural Vision Award. For the award itself, we commissioned Caleb Faires, a remarkably gifted sculptor, to create a beautiful original bronze. I was so wowed by the finished work that I just had to share it with you--as well as with Jan:
Just click on the image for a closer look at the sculpture. Isn't it wonderful?
I'll do my best to post some photos of the gala event sometime over the weekend--or at the latest, early this next week.
Just click on the image for a closer look at the sculpture. Isn't it wonderful?
I'll do my best to post some photos of the gala event sometime over the weekend--or at the latest, early this next week.
Wednesday, November 1
All Saints' Day
In the earliest years of the Church, so many martyrs died for their faith, Christians set aside special days to honor them. For example, in 607 Emperor Phocas presented the beautiful Roman Pantheon to the Church. Pope Boniface IV quickly removed the statues of Jupiter and the other Pagan gods and consecrated the Pantheon to all the martyrs who had suffered during the Roman persecution in the first three hundred years after Christ--that great cloud of witnesses to the Christian faith. The venerable old building was renamed "All Saints Chapel" and a festival was set aside to remember the courage and the sacrifice of the faithful. Originally celebrated on May 1, the festival was eventually moved to the first day of November by Pope Gregory IV. It was, in a very real sense, the Church's first commemoration of "thanksgiving."
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