Monthly Archives: November 2020

I found the three purple candles and one rose candle in a box of old Sunday School supplies. I unwrapped them, pulling them from clinging cellophane and gently pushed their bases into a circular holder. I next stepped outside into an icy breeze and snipped greens from a fir we planted twenty years ago. I wove the bits of greenery around the candles and set my Advent wreathe in the middle of our dining table.

Today is the First Sunday in Advent, the first of four Sundays that prepare us for the first advent of Christ Jesus in Bethlehem. On these four Sundays it is traditional to consider the four last events of man: Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell. In this way we prepare for the second advent of Christ Jesus upon this Earth, when a New Heaven and New Earth ushers in the Kingdom of God. In this way we prepare for our own death, face our own mortality.

It is a serious time, with serious themes, and particularly appropriate to our world today, our world of pandemic, unrest, division, and unbelief. It is a time for prayer, and Americans are lifting their voices, praying for our country, praying for protection from the violence in our streets, the violence on our campuses, the violence in our hearts. We pray for peace. We pray for freedom.

And so, today our preacher considered Death, the first theme.

It is a subject we hide from, as can be seen in the modern American rituals of death, the whisking away of the corpse to be cremated and no longer considered, the memorial service replacing the Christian funeral rites. Yet death comes to all of us, often with little warning. We do not know the hour or the day or the year we will journey into another world.

As our preacher mentioned this morning, all we know about where we are going when we die is what we have been told by the one who has been there and returned: Jesus of Nazareth, who died and came back to life. Witnesses testify that this itinerant preacher, onetime carpenter, performed miracles of healing and resurrection from the dead. This Jesus, as recorded in the Gospels by contemporaries, informs us that Heaven has many mansions – rooms – prepared for us. He tells us to be not afraid, for He is with us always, even unto the end of the Earth.

Advent is a cosmic, cold and wintry time, a time of watching for the coming of Christ not only in Bethlehem, not only in the last days, but in our hearts. We are told that the Son of God wants to abide in us: we in Him, He in us. He loves us. He desires to be with and within His creation.

This year the Advent Season is also a time of great fear in our land, fear of the unknown, fear of this virus that robs our breath and clings to our cells in unknown ways, fear of death following close on our heels. Some have said after months of battling the fear of the pandemic, and the pandemic itself, through questionable lockdowns, masks, and distancing, our fears have become a virus as well, worse than the Chinese Flu. Fear has shuttered shops and eateries and inns, theaters and sports and gyms. Fear has denied workers work, worshipers worship, and the worst of all, denied the dying their family and friends.

Also this year, the Advent Season in America is a time of cleaning up our elections, as though seeing that dirty windows needed washing. We are proving to the world that we have legal systems that help us clean up dirty elections, dirty voting. We are proud of our democracy, our electoral system, and will not allow excess dirt to bury it. We will not succumb to bullying and extortion. But we are also a loving, trusting people, so we often allow the systems to clog with grime before we decide enough is enough, and we decide to clean our house. This is that time. This is that year of wintry cleaning in Advent.

And so the Christian world pauses for a brief moment in the midst of battle to reflect on where we are today, where we have come from, and where we are going. We pause to clean out our own hearts as well, our own houses with our own dirty windows. We confess. We repent. We accept forgiveness. We invite the Lord of Lords into our hearts as we consider the mansions He has promised for those who repent, for those who choose Him, choose Love, choose Truth, choose Life, choose the only Way through the cross.

Advent prepares us for these great events, these four last things that we all will face. Alongside, in our prayers and our words and our testimonies, we will suffer with the nation as the nation suffers, we will uphold her freedom to worship and assemble peacefully, and we will shine a light on the great sin of our time, the ongoing genocide of the unborn, every minute of every day. We will walk the Way, with the Truth, and the Life, into the Light.

For we are told, again and again, that Jesus is the Way, that no one sees the Father unless through Christ himself.

Christians are unafraid of fear, for we have faced the ultimate fear, our own death. We have embraced the antidote to the virus of fear, Christ and his promise of eternity.

And so we walk the Way to Christmas, to Christ’s first advent in Bethlehem. As we light that first candle tonight, we pray, Come Lord Jesus, Come.

I am thankful for America, the bright light on the hilltop, a beacon to the world, from sea to shining sea.

I am thankful for my own year of life, my own year of living, my own year of prayer, penitence, and pleasure.

I am thankful for my latest novel, Angel Mountain, a story about the state of Western Civilization, Intelligent Design and Evolution, faith and science, cancel culture and free speech, Heaven and the Apocalypse, true history and the Holocaust, the sanctity of live and human dignity. 

I am thankful for America, for her freedoms, her liberty and law, her First Amendment and the right to worship, peacefully gather and voice our hearts and minds. 

I am thankful for America, for her people and their courage to stand up to tyranny rising, to speak the truth, to label lies, and sort fact from fiction.

I am thankful for America, for her entrepreneurs, inventors, scientists, homemakers, nurses, farmers, and all other workers with their unique talents; for books and writers, music and musicians.

I am thankful for President Trump and Operation Warp Speed, for his devotion to our country, for protecting us from threats within and without, for his epic heroism.

I am thankful for America, for the falling pandemic death rates in a country so vast and diverse. 

I am thankful for America, for those who defend her, on foreign or domestic soil, military and police.

I am thankful for America, for those who cherish academic freedom and have suffered for it.

I am thankful for America, for her past and present and future, for her wars of defense and correction, civil and uncivil, for righting wrongs and freeing slaves, for Pilgrims and the Founding Fathers, for the Constitution and Bill of Rights.

I am thankful for our loving God, for his Son and Redeemer, Jesus Christ, for His Holy Spirit indwelling in us, for his promises of Heaven.

I am thankful for our Church and clergy; for the faithful who pray for one another; for those who sing His praises, daily, hourly, minute by minute; for the hymns, thundering and poetic and uplifting, sung for centuries, ringing into this minute of our day; for Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer; for Holy Sacraments.

I am thankful for our tabby cat Laddie, who climbed the ladder to Heaven, who shared his time on Earth with us; for animals and plants and colors and seasons; for wind and rain, for stars and planets, for day and night, for the sun and the moon, for apples and pears, for plentiful harvests, for ice cream, for espresso, for sleep, for dreams, for work and play, for seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching; for laughter, for faces, for smiles; for kindness, love, and generosity.

I am thankful for friends and family, for children, born and unborn, for the miracle and mystery of life itself.

May God bless America, from sea to shining sea.

Today is Stir-up Sunday, the Sunday next before Advent in the Christian calendar. It is called this because of the opening prayer that a collects us together:

STIR up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people; that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works, may by thee be plenteously rewarded; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (1928 BCP, 225)

We call the Holy Spirit to come upon us and give us the will to do right according to His commandments, to bear good fruit. And there is no better time to call upon this Third Person of the Holy Trinity. There is no better time to stir up God’s people, our nation under God.

We often need stirring up, for we are a joyful people and prone to complacency in our joy. We have answered some of the great mysteries of life, the whys and wherefores, the whats and whos, the whens. We know we are fallen, but we know the remedy. We have a deadly virus, but be not afraid, for we have the antidote. We are under sentence of death in the cosmology of Heaven’s justice, but we know how to commute that sentence through repentance, through the death and resurrection of Christ, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, through touching the hem of His garment and carrying His cross. We are at peace, for we have immense meaning in our lives. More than that, our  lives embody meaning, every breathing moment adding to the total of that meaning, for nothing is lost and everything gained. Nothing is wasted.

Bishop Morse of blessed memory used to cheer me up with the words, “Nothing is lost.” I’ve often recalled those words, when I hammer away at a keyboard or receive another rejection, or a project has fallen through, or a plan come to naught. Nothing is lost. Everything counts in the economy of God. 

It is this wholeness of life, this holiness of life, that the Christian owns, that the Christian can claim for his or her own. It is a vast fortune, and we claim it to be ours. It is an inheritance my hermit Abram speaks of as he preaches and baptizes from a rocky ledge to the pilgrims in the grassy meadow below. It is a theme of my recently released novel, Angel Mountain, this joy, this grace given.

So out of sheer complacency, having been given so much grace, we often need a little stirring up. And so this Sunday Collect prepares us for the Advent season as a kind of bugle cry to get our attention: wake up! It’s time! The last trumpet will soon sound! Christ is born in Bethlehem! Christ is returning, filling the sky! Can you see Him?

The world needs stirring up as it awaits the Second Advent of Christ, the Second Coming.

This last week I needed stirring up and I needed the reassurance that nothing was lost. While I knew the media had years ago declared war on a sitting President, and while I knew that if an honest and free press gives way to tyranny that democracy dies, I was surprised once again that a major news conference shedding evidential light into the deep shadows of our recent election was not covered, but dismissed and scorned. It was as though the last hope of a free press was gone.

The Gospel today was St. John’s account of the feeding of the five thousand, with only a lad’s five barley loaves and two small fishes (John 6:5+). Andrew asks, “What are they among so many?”

And we ask, what are we among so many?

How can truth be broadcast when major media is corrupt? And yet our voices continue to be heard. For nothing is lost.

And so in St. John’s account we see the economy of Heaven: the vast and the microscopic, the immortal and the mortal. The Lord of the Universe sits on a hillside and receives a basket of loaves and fishes from a little boy. We are given concrete details: the people are to sit; there is grass to sit upon; Jesus gives thanks and distributes the loaves and fishes, feeding them all. It was a miracle of creation repeated, multiplied, a down-from-Heaven-to-Earth miracle, an intersection of eternity into time.

Finally, Jesus instructs his disciples to “gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.” Nothing be lost. I am a fragment: gather me. I don’t want to be lost. John writes that there were twelve baskets of fragments gathered. He is a good witness to reality, to truth. He gives us details in his account.

And so we must be good witnesses to all the fragments.

One of the ways that totalitarian governments take and retain power is to repeat lies until they (seem to) become truth. Just so, it seems we the voters are expected to see and not to see, to witness and not to testify. We begin to doubt our senses. We begin to believe the lies. It’s so much easier to go along.

But many are praying that true truth is told by those who do the telling. As evidence is amassed in numerous court cases litigating recent election practices, we pray that light lights up the dark, forces the lies to emerge from the shadows so that we can truly see.

We must be stirred up enough to remain awake to reality, to truth, to the truth of the Advent of Christ, to the truth of the light shining in the darkness, to the truth of who we are in spite of our brokenness. We gather our words like loaves and fishes, hoping they will multiply and feed the hungry. The fragments are gathered too, so that nothing is lost.

Every breath counts. Every prayer counts. Every true vote for freedom counts. We need not be afraid. Nothing is lost.

I was meditating on what to write this afternoon when I received an email from a friend in one of our parishes. Did I have a recommendation for where to order personalized Bibles as gifts for Confirmation?

I considered the week and the watching and waiting for the Second Coming of Christ found in the Gospel of Matthew assigned readings. The words of Christ in red cover several pages as he foretells the last days, the Judgment, Heaven and Earth. There is a winnowing, a sorting out of human souls, those who watched and were ready, those who cared for the poor, those who followed Christ’s commandments, those who bore good fruit, those who said yes to the wedding feast of the king. Those who didn’t do these things would be sent into outer darkness, where there would be gnashing of teeth. He mentions outer darkness a significant number of times to add authenticity to his words. 

And then there was the lovely Friday Reflection, “Fraud Control,” by James M. Kushiner of Touchstone Magazine in which he writes of the importance of autographs as seals of authenticity. He cites St. Paul in his closing words to the church at Thessalonica (today Greece):

“The salutation of Paul with mine own hand, which is the token in every epistle: so I write.” (2 Thessalonians 3:17-18, KJV)

Paul uses the words, outo grapho, or “this is my handwriting,” the origins of autograph which meant any works handwritten by the author. Paul was concerned that others were forging letters to the churches, and so he emphasizes with his outo grapho that his letter is truly from him. 

Just so, James Kushiner writes, the signs of Christ – his deeds – were his signature, affirming who he was and is.

Christians are named at Baptism, given “Christian” names, christened with signs all our own. Our name identifies us, separates us from others. Just so our autograph, our name written by our own hand, has long been used to ensure authenticity of documents. Today, with electronic signing and accounts that no longer require signatures we have nearly returned to the days of making our mark with an “X”, the mark of the illiterate, or no mark at all. We are identified by our passcodes, numbers. I am told that children are no longer taught cursive. What does that mean in terms of their signatures? A scribble or squiggle, I suppose. A fingerprint. A passcode.

In our national election we are currently concerned with signatures that match records on file so that voters are identified to be who they claim to be, living or dead, legitimate or fraudulent. Signatures still count, we hope.

Handwriting. Signatures. Fingerprints. Faces scanned.

Each one of us is so unique. We take this for granted but it is an amazing miracle that no two persons are identical. Even twins have unique markers, genetic as well. And so I fear we will not do well in the Judgment when we must say we allowed the genocide of several generations of unique human beings, children with all the identity markers we have, children that will never be born, children we will face in Heaven, should we survive the sorting.

As Christians we are assured of our salvation, to be sure, for we have Christ defending us; we have Christ standing for us before the throne of God, as long as we repent the times we looked away, the times we denied Christ, the times we were ashamed to speak. But we have been marked by Christ.

Just like the Bibles, we are personalized by our Creator. In the last days we will be marked with the sign of the cross on our foreheads, just as we were marked in our Baptisms with holy oil: 

“WE receive this Child (or person) into the congregation of Christ’s flock; and do *sign him with the sign of the Cross, in token that hereafter he shall not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, and manfully to fight under his banner, against sin, the world, and the devil; and to continue Christ’s faithful soldier and servant unto his life’s end. Amen.” (1928 BCP, 280)

And when Confirmed, having been regenerated in Baptism, we are now given the gifts of the Holy Spirit:

“ALMIGHTY and everliving God, who hast vouchsafed to regenerate these thy servants by Water and the Holy Ghost, and hast given unto them forgiveness of all their sins; Strengthen them, we beseech thee, O Lord, with the Holy Ghost, the Comforter, and daily increase in them thy manifold gifts of grace: the spirit of wisdom and under-standing, the spirit of counsel and ghostly strength, the spirit of knowledge and true godliness; and fill them, O Lord, with the spirit of thy holy fear, now and for ever. Amen.” (1928 BCP, 297)

We belong to Christ. We have been signed with his Cross, a blood red autograph. We are not ashamed to write, to speak, to love as he has taught us to do. At life’s end, we will hear his call, know his voice, and he will know each one of us. He will say, “Well done, good and faithful soldier and servant. Welcome to the Kingdom of Heaven.”

Dark clouds rolled in shortly after noon today and soon filled the big sky over and around our portion of Planet Earth. Then thunder roared and rain poured, as though the skies opened  to pour their tears on our land. It was cold last night, and I gazed up to Angel Mountain (Mount Diablo) wondering if it might snow. An American flag flew in the distance in the brown grass, and, farther up the horse trail, the white cross stood sturdy, weathering the weather. We are nearing Veterans Day, the day in which my novel’s story opens, closing on Thanksgiving. In Angel Mountain, the skies are filled with thunder and lightning. The leaves are turning gold and bronze and russet, as they fall into Fall. Earth is preparing for winter.

Thunder shatters the air, rumbling through the canyons. But I fear no evil. I was reminded this last week to be not afraid, that God is the God of all history, and there will come a time when there are no more tears. Christ will come again to judge the peoples of the Earth, and those who desire justice among men will have their fervent and patient wish granted.

But beware. This means a personal judgment as well as a general one. Wheat will be separated from chaff (weeds), sheep from goats. For if there will be no more tears in the new Heaven and Earth, those who did not keep (and do not desire to keep) the Ten Commandments, the Law given to Moses and the Prophets, those who did not bear good fruit, will be cast into outer darkness. This is God’s justice, justly severe, as written in Holy Scripture.

This last week the Book of Common Prayer daily Gospel readings included Christ’s condemnation of the Pharisees. They are harsh words, hellfire and brimstone words, and he is clear in his intention. So if we believe Jesus is the Son of God, if we believe the Scriptures are a fair account of his works and words, then we might pause and take stock of our own lives.

And so it was also good to hear the Gospel for today in which Christ explains forgiveness. We are to forgive our enemies, those who harm us or seek to do us harm. Forgiveness must come from deep within our hearts, through prayer and patience. We are told to love our enemies. Do good to those who persecute us. This does not mean that we embrace words and deeds of the lawless and the dishonest. We must be wise and not throw pearls before swine. But we prepare our hearts to forgive them when they repent. We do not hold grudges. With forgiveness we are free from this darkness. When we forgive, as seen in the prayer Our Lord taught us to pray, the “Our Father,” we will be forgiven in like measure.

I ponder these holy mysteries – a soothing symmetry – as I watch history unfold on our national stage, today an international stage, watched by the peoples of the world with fear and trembling. America, for now, shines her light on the hill, a beacon lighting up the darkness, a promise of hope to all those escaping the terror of socialist regimes. For as long as honest debate is allowed, freedom thrives. For as long as free and honest elections are held, liberty is lauded. As long as we can speak without fear, live without fear, America will continue to shine her light from the mountaintop.

And so I am pleased that our President is shining light on the allegations of fraudulent practices in the recent election. Such light will strengthen our republic. Such transparency will show the world that we are still a place of refuge, a place of justice. Our constitutional procedures wisely give us time to examine these charges, and, as we await the final results, we can pause and give thanks that we have such a process. I pray that all Americans accept peacefully the results, having waited patiently for every legal vote to be certified, trusting that the electors, in mid-December, will represent the true and honest will of the American people. For this is America. This is how we protect our freedoms.

The projections made by the media are projections, not elections. Let us pause and breathe deeply and pray for our country, for all her wonderful peoples of every race, creed, and background, born and unborn. She is a glorious melting pot, just like each one of us, a rainbow of colorful traits, treasures, and talents. She is the hope of the world.

The sun just came out on Angel Mountain, the sky now a dome of blue, the colors of the earth singing their song of hope.

May God bless America.

Prayer For Our Country:

“ALMIGHTY God, who hast given us this good land for our heritage; We humbly beseech thee that we may always prove ourselves a people mindful of thy favour and glad to do thy will. Bless our land with honourable industry, sound learning, and pure manners. Save us from violence, discord, and confusion; from pride and arrogancy, and from every evil way. Defend our liberties, and fashion into one united people the multitudes brought hither out of many kindreds and tongues. Endue with the spirit of wisdom those to whom in thy Name we entrust the authority of government, that there may be justice and peace at home, and that, through obedience to thy law, we may show forth thy praise among the nations of the earth. In the time of prosperity, fill our hearts with thankfulness, and in the day of trouble, suffer not our trust in thee to fail; all which we ask through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” (1928 Book of Common Prayer, 136)

This prayer was offered in one of our Anglican parishes this morning, All Saints Day. It is a poetic, potent, plea for our nation as we draw near to election day and our choice of President for another four years.

I love America, and I believe her fortunes greatly influence the world’s fortunes. Many say that every election is heated, which to some degree is true. But never in our history have we had an election with such transparency. The ubiquitous smart phone has given every person a window into the character and habits of every public figure. This is historically new.

In the past, public figures were shielded simply by limited access. They could indulge in corruption and promiscuity with impunity. Damage control was far easier when information could not go viral in minutes whether true or false. (FDR, JFK, Bill Clinton come to mind)

This “living in a glass house” with full transparency has hurt both Democrats and Republicans. Some are offended by President Trump’s style. Some are offended by former Vice President Biden’s corruption. Even more folks are aghast at the biased press and the disintegration of this vital pillar of our free democratic republic (this may be the ultimate poison pill).

In spite of the power and wealth of the media (Hollywood /press/ academia /publishing /big tech), I return to my fifty-year policy of choosing candidates based on what they can do for our country. For what happens to our country affects the world for good or ill. I choose substance over style, performance over personality. There is too much at stake to consider anything else.

The current genocide of the unborn, free speech, freedom of worship, freedom of assembly, and peace at home and abroad are all substantive issues at the top of my list and have found their way into my novels. Cancel culture is seen in all of these issues – the cancellation of life, the cancellation of churches and schools, the cancellation of speakers (and novelist bloggers!), the cancellation of enterprise of all kinds, the cancellation of law and order. The Chinese virus was and continues to be weaponized against freedom, the pandemic’s dangers real but fears far exaggerated, designed to keep us locked down in dependance upon the State.

But be of good cheer, for today is All Saints! A wonderful celebration in the calendar for Christians. One of our preachers this morning (I visited three virtual liturgies and am becoming a sermon junkie) said that saints are you and I as well as those on the calendar, those canonized by the Church. He said, when folks think of you, do they see Christ? Tough question. Saints walk among us today, everyday saints, men and women who love with the love of Christ, who witness to his acts of salvation, who follow his commandments and repent when they fail to obey them, who pick themselves up (and dust themselves off) and move into the next minutes and days and months and years, suffering for the love of you and I, courageous and free from fear.

And so we thank God for the saints past, present, and to come in these challenging times. We pray for our nation and our nation’s leaders. We pray for peace. We pray for freedom from tyranny, from socialism in all its forms, soft or hard. We remember Russia and China and Germany and Cuba and those who fled here for refuge (and continue to flee here), those who witness to the horror they experienced. We tell our history to our children – true history, our true past so that we can learn where we went wrong and how to do better. We pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off and gather together in prayerful thanksgiving and song:

“For all the saints, who from their labors rest,/Who thee by faith before the world confessed,/Thy Name o Jesus, be forever blessed./Alleluia, alleluia!” (Hymn #126, words by Wm. Walsham How, 1864)

May God bless America!