Category Archives: Essay


When life deals me a blow, especially at the hands of another person, I can feel grief, or I can feel aggrieved. It’s always my choice. I can grieve, or I can create a grievance.

By feeling grief, I choose to be hurt; to be aggrieved, I choose to hurt myself further. Grief leads to freedom; a grievance, to bondage.

When I allow myself to be hurt, God can help me work through the pain and, in the end, release it to Him. I find Him in that pain, and then He leads me out of it.

When I perch atop a grievance, a resentment, I tell God: ‘This is more important that the forgiveness You offer to help me with.’

Grief is a sadness, a product of compassion. I grieve because people can be wicked, thoughtless and selfish. They can knowingly or unknowingly hurt me.

Grievance, on the other hand, is a product of pride, which feeds my own selfishness in response to that of others. Should their choice to be selfish give me the right to choose selfishness as well?

Compassion always leads me toward forgiveness. Grievance always hardens a heart, even a soft one.

Where does my heart rest today? Always between the extremes in the moment of hurt, but it must ultimately move one way or the other.

If I’m to have peace, and move forward, my heart must come to rest (and will have rest), in Jesus. He’s my only source of rest. So I grieve, and find peace.

“Go ahead and be angry. You do well to be angry—but don’t use your anger as fuel for revenge. And don’t stay angry. Don’t go to bed angry. Don’t give the Devil that kind of foothold in your life.” (Ephesians 4:26-27 MSG)

“He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city.” (Proverbs 16:32)


Church Thoughts

There is no epidemic of misinformation as we’ve been told; rather a burden of myth-information.

As a result, many of my friends in the Church of England suffer from Anglicanxiety.

There are two sides to their coin: There’s the lie that says they aren’t good enough, when the truth is they’re not good enough. See Romans 1. Then read through to Romans 5.

Those of us in the C of E must take risks. Risk allows us to take good theology and put it into practice. What’s happening now isn’t risk. It’s capitulation to worldly doctrine.

It’s time again to make righteous agreements on the spiritual trading floor. Whose salvation do we proclaim? Is it God’s? Or is it ours?

Jesus said ‘preach on the housetops’. Are we? Or are we trapped inside our stone coffins, waiting for people to join us in death?

Blessed are the hungry for they will be filled. Whoever they are and wherever they are.

Some of us proclaim something else from the rooftops and it’s not the gospel: it’s that we’re a ‘welcoming church.’

That phrase is redundant.

The fellowship of Jesus Christ is universally and altogether welcoming because He is welcoming. His arms were held open on the cross to underscore His invitation to salvation.

He meant that for everyone, with no one singled out. No special categories. God ‘shows no favoritism’ 1 and has told us we ‘should no longer think of anyone as impure or unclean.’ 2

Thus, to say we are ‘welcoming’ for particular categories of people, is actually to deconstruct the gospel. Using a human qualified greeting replaces Christ’s divine unqualified greeting, which is fully and completely outlined in scripture.

‘Welcoming’ churches fly a rainbow flag, with six colors (for human Pride) instead of seven (for God’s covenant with us). This shows a church’s true colors. Yes, they worship something, but it’s not Christ. They are full of something, but I fear it’s not Holy Spirit.

This type of qualified ‘welcoming’ lets people know they are gathering with people who won’t challenge sin. Such gatherings can begin a one-way ride directly out of God’s kingdom.

The gospel challenges sin, because Jesus challenges sin. See Romans 1. Then read through to Romans 5. Then decide where your church stands. If it doesn’t line up with what you just read in scripture, run for your eternal life.

If you aren’t sometimes offended by the message you hear in church, then it’s not the gospel of Jesus Christ. Like it or lump it. God has His standards. And we won’t change them; we can only abandon them if we choose not to embrace them.

Blessed are the hungry for they will be filled. Whoever they are and wherever they are.

1.Acts 10:34 (NLT)
2. Acts 10:37 (NL

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Political demonstration

The Syzygy of Clowns

During my time in America, the beautiful balance of forces converging in my driveway each summer showed a Divine Hand guiding all things. Just as migratory birds appeared on schedule every spring, another strange and wonderful connection between God and His creatures also occurred every August, right in my own driveway.

In August, the US Congress took its annual summer recess, just as the maggots reappeared in my garbage can. It happened as certainly as political lawn signs in September. The year I noticed this, both events coincided with National Clown Week. It was three-for-one.

My garbage bin was a wheeled black plastic 30-gallon larvae incubator. It absorbed prodigious amounts of solar heat. With a full load of week-old garbage it became a fetid cesspool of a nursery, fit only for the lowly housefly and her offspring.

Judging from the wheely-bin’s productive output each summer, maggots do very well in a slightly anaerobic atmosphere at about 50 degrees Celsius. This positions them to do well in a post-global warming world.

On the steamy afternoon in question I made a plastic-sacked deposit, and was greeted by the usual stampede. Thousands were suddenly crawling eagerly toward the light faster than Congress members after a donor checkbook.

Maggots? No worries, nothing a hose can’t fix. It gave the birds a snack off the front yard.

The entire scene: garbage can, maggots, hose job… it brings the thought of Congress back time and again.

Those maggots were my annual reminder that Congress is most dangerous when it is loose outside the Beltway. August was the time to watch out. When the Members hang around the Capitol, we know where they are and what they are up to. After all, we elected ‘em to keep ‘em out of our way, didn’t we?

But when they descended on the home district, it meant those pesky telemarketers soon called, and town hall meetings invaded the summer quiet. It marked the return of trespassing political operatives who vandalized my lawn with signs in the middle of the night.

When the clowns from DC mixed with the general population, it was hard to feel happy and secure. But no matter what they perpetrated, even bone-headedness of Washingtonian proportions, I now recall it’s not possible to remain unhappy if you are surrounded by real clowns.

That’s the truth of it. There I was, washing out the bin that summer long ago, musing on the redundancy of “political stupidity,” when out of nowhere, a miniature fire engine motored by, covered with real clowns!

It looked like a wheeled orange Chia Pet.

The clowns were on their way to a nearby celebration. I waved joyfully. They stopped and gave me a balloon and candy.

I like real clowns. They momentarily make other clowns more bearable. And they give away suckers instead of taking me for one.

Now of course, we are in a post-global warming world, or so they say. The maggots have taken charge. Checks and balances appear to have been thrown out the window. We don’t have mob rule, rather, by the opinion-du-jour. The loudest voice wins.

Send in the clowns. There ought to be clowns.

Don’t you love farce?
My fault, I fear
I thought that you’d want what I want
Sorry, my dear
But where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns
Don’t bothеr, they’re herе

From ‘Send in the Clowns’ © 1973 Stephen Sondheim

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