The First Sunday of Advent
I thought I'd start the season with one of the oldest known Advent hymns. Some sources put the writing of this hymn as early as the 600s. It was during this time that the rule of Pope Gregory I reformed liturgy and music in the church. The rules for what we now refer to as Gregorian Chant were very specific. As a result, most of the singing in the church was done by trained choirs and clergy. However, there were a few Latin hymns that were sung by the congregation on special occasions, including this one. "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel," originally written in Latin, was sung at vespers between December 17 and 23.
Have a blessed Advent season as we prepare to celebrate our Lord's birth!
"O Come, O Come, Emmanuel"
O come, O come, Emmanuel, And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here, Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel, Shall come to thee, O Israel!
O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free, Thine own from Satan's tyranny;
From depths of hell Thy people save, And give them victory o'er the grave.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel, Shall come to thee, O Israel!
O come, Thou Dayspring, come and cheer, Our spirits by Thine advent here;
And drive away the shades of night, And pierce the clouds and bring us light!
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel, Shall come to thee, O Israel!
O come, Thou Key of David, come, And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high, And close the path to misery.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel, Shall come to thee, O Israel!
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Friday, November 25, 2005
Great Thanksgiving Article
Note from Deb: If I were more computer savvy, I could add pictures and links, but I'm not there yet. This is from Chuck Colson at Prison Fellowship. I hope it's OK to print this article without permission. If not, Mea Culpa.
What Happened AFTER the Feast: The Rest of the Thanksgiving Story
November 24, 2005
Thanksgiving is just about my favorite holiday—a wonderful combination of family, faith, and American-style religious freedom. I love the story of those hardy Pilgrims, and I love eating turkey and pumpkin pie and gathering with family.
Many of us tend to think of the first Thanksgiving feast as the official end to all the Pilgrims' difficulties. Wrong: Their survival would remain in jeopardy for years to come. And yet, no matter how difficult things became, they never failed to offer thanks to God.
As every school child knows, the Pilgrims arrived in the New World in the winter of 1620. As the freezing weeks passed, nearly half their number died. It was a terrible time, but by spring, things began to improve. Friendly Indians helped the Pilgrims plant their crops. By October 1621, the fields yielded a harvest large enough to sustain the colony in the coming winter. The grateful Pilgrims invited their Indian friends to a three-day feast of thanksgiving to God.
That's where the story typically ends—for us. But for the Pilgrims, the hardships went on. The next month, a ship arrived with thirty-five new colonists. But to the Pilgrims' dismay, they brought no provisions. The entire colony was forced to go on half rations that winter. At one point, with food running out, everyone was forced onto a daily ration of just five kernels of corn.
As my friend Barbara Rainey writes in her new book, Thanksgiving: A Time to Remember, by spring, the colony was weakened by hunger and sickness. While the bay and creeks were full of fish, the Pilgrims' nets had rotted. Were it not for shellfish, which could be dug by hand, they would have perished. Despite the great difficulties, they thanked God for His provision.
More ships arrived that year, usually bringing newcomers with no supplies. Pilgrim father William Bradford wrote in his journal that, given the poor harvest, it "appeared that famine must still ensue the next year also."
By April 1623, the conditions were desperate. The Pilgrims planted double the corn of the previous year, only to see a drought several weeks long threaten the precious crop. In response, the Pilgrims held a day of fasting and prayer, asking God for rain. Pilgrim father Edward Winslow wrote that by evening, "The weather was overcast, [and] the clouds gathered on all sides." It was the beginning of two weeks of rainfall. The crop was saved, and that fall, the harvest was abundant. Another Thanksgiving feast was arranged, and again the Indians took part. As Winslow wrote, "Another solemn day was set apart … wherein we returned glory, honor, and praise, with all thankfulness to our God who dwelt so graciously with us."
They prayed this, remember, at the end of two terrible years filled with famine, hard work, and the loss of many loved ones.
As we gather with our families to celebrate our blessings, we ought to remember what happened to the Pilgrims after the feasting was over. Their steadfast trust in God is a reminder that we, too, need to trust in God, even in the most difficult circumstances—and thank Him.
May God bless you and yours this Thanksgiving.
Get links to further information on today's topic
For printer-friendly version, simply visit www.breakpoint.org and click on Today's Commentary. The printer-friendly link is on the left-hand column.Copyright (c) 2005 Prison Fellowship
What Happened AFTER the Feast: The Rest of the Thanksgiving Story
November 24, 2005
Thanksgiving is just about my favorite holiday—a wonderful combination of family, faith, and American-style religious freedom. I love the story of those hardy Pilgrims, and I love eating turkey and pumpkin pie and gathering with family.
Many of us tend to think of the first Thanksgiving feast as the official end to all the Pilgrims' difficulties. Wrong: Their survival would remain in jeopardy for years to come. And yet, no matter how difficult things became, they never failed to offer thanks to God.
As every school child knows, the Pilgrims arrived in the New World in the winter of 1620. As the freezing weeks passed, nearly half their number died. It was a terrible time, but by spring, things began to improve. Friendly Indians helped the Pilgrims plant their crops. By October 1621, the fields yielded a harvest large enough to sustain the colony in the coming winter. The grateful Pilgrims invited their Indian friends to a three-day feast of thanksgiving to God.
That's where the story typically ends—for us. But for the Pilgrims, the hardships went on. The next month, a ship arrived with thirty-five new colonists. But to the Pilgrims' dismay, they brought no provisions. The entire colony was forced to go on half rations that winter. At one point, with food running out, everyone was forced onto a daily ration of just five kernels of corn.
As my friend Barbara Rainey writes in her new book, Thanksgiving: A Time to Remember, by spring, the colony was weakened by hunger and sickness. While the bay and creeks were full of fish, the Pilgrims' nets had rotted. Were it not for shellfish, which could be dug by hand, they would have perished. Despite the great difficulties, they thanked God for His provision.
More ships arrived that year, usually bringing newcomers with no supplies. Pilgrim father William Bradford wrote in his journal that, given the poor harvest, it "appeared that famine must still ensue the next year also."
By April 1623, the conditions were desperate. The Pilgrims planted double the corn of the previous year, only to see a drought several weeks long threaten the precious crop. In response, the Pilgrims held a day of fasting and prayer, asking God for rain. Pilgrim father Edward Winslow wrote that by evening, "The weather was overcast, [and] the clouds gathered on all sides." It was the beginning of two weeks of rainfall. The crop was saved, and that fall, the harvest was abundant. Another Thanksgiving feast was arranged, and again the Indians took part. As Winslow wrote, "Another solemn day was set apart … wherein we returned glory, honor, and praise, with all thankfulness to our God who dwelt so graciously with us."
They prayed this, remember, at the end of two terrible years filled with famine, hard work, and the loss of many loved ones.
As we gather with our families to celebrate our blessings, we ought to remember what happened to the Pilgrims after the feasting was over. Their steadfast trust in God is a reminder that we, too, need to trust in God, even in the most difficult circumstances—and thank Him.
May God bless you and yours this Thanksgiving.
Get links to further information on today's topic
For printer-friendly version, simply visit www.breakpoint.org and click on Today's Commentary. The printer-friendly link is on the left-hand column.Copyright (c) 2005 Prison Fellowship
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Thanksgiving
"The Pilgrim wanted liberty for himself and his wife and little ones, and for his brethren, to walk with God in a Christian life as the rules and motives of such a life were revealed to him from God's Word."
After a full day, I am able to sit down and quietly reflect on my many blessings. My hubby and two children are all nestled in their beds. The two table leaves are stored away again, and the dining room table looks beautiful with the little pumpkins, Indian corn, candles, and the beautiful flowers that my aunt brought to Thanksgiving dinner. I am simmering the turkey carcass, the kitchen isn't too much of a mess, and I was less stressed than I've ever been for a big dinner like this. (My thanks to Marla, the wonderful FLYLady at www.flylady.net.)
Yesterday, while waiting for the plumber and trying to dry out the wet cabinet floor under the kitchen sink, it was so easy to get discouraged. Yet, I couldn't help but ponder the life of the Pilgrims that first November in 1620. My "problems" paled in comparison to their daily existence. Such a risk they took to travel across the ocean and set up new lives in a new land! We have the freedoms and liberty for which they were yearning, yet we take them for granted. We grumble because our garbage disposals break the day before we are to host Thanksgiving dinner; yet they were eating poorly, living on a dank ship, growing more and more ill, and dwindling in number as the winter progressed. We plan and serve elaborate meals for Thanksgiving; and the Pilgrims were, at one point the following winter, rationing their food to five kernels of corn per person per day!
The above quote comes from The American Covenant, by Marshall Foster and Mary-Elaine Swanson. I was struck by the fact that the Pilgrims wanted liberty to walk with God in a Christian life as revealed by God's Word. It seems that nowadays we Americans think of liberty as freedom to do what WE choose. Some may go so far as to say that it's freedom from tyranny. But, this freedom, rather than being a wide open free-for-all, has a very specific command: walk with God. What do we do when we walk with God? We live a Christian life. How do we know what this Christian life is? It is revealed in God's Word.
Let's be thankful that we have such easy access to God's Word. Let us bathe ourselves in His Word every day. Let us strive for truly knowing His Word, so we can walk with Him in goodness and in truth. And for all for all of this, let us give thanks!
"The Pilgrim wanted liberty for himself and his wife and little ones, and for his brethren, to walk with God in a Christian life as the rules and motives of such a life were revealed to him from God's Word."
After a full day, I am able to sit down and quietly reflect on my many blessings. My hubby and two children are all nestled in their beds. The two table leaves are stored away again, and the dining room table looks beautiful with the little pumpkins, Indian corn, candles, and the beautiful flowers that my aunt brought to Thanksgiving dinner. I am simmering the turkey carcass, the kitchen isn't too much of a mess, and I was less stressed than I've ever been for a big dinner like this. (My thanks to Marla, the wonderful FLYLady at www.flylady.net.)
Yesterday, while waiting for the plumber and trying to dry out the wet cabinet floor under the kitchen sink, it was so easy to get discouraged. Yet, I couldn't help but ponder the life of the Pilgrims that first November in 1620. My "problems" paled in comparison to their daily existence. Such a risk they took to travel across the ocean and set up new lives in a new land! We have the freedoms and liberty for which they were yearning, yet we take them for granted. We grumble because our garbage disposals break the day before we are to host Thanksgiving dinner; yet they were eating poorly, living on a dank ship, growing more and more ill, and dwindling in number as the winter progressed. We plan and serve elaborate meals for Thanksgiving; and the Pilgrims were, at one point the following winter, rationing their food to five kernels of corn per person per day!
The above quote comes from The American Covenant, by Marshall Foster and Mary-Elaine Swanson. I was struck by the fact that the Pilgrims wanted liberty to walk with God in a Christian life as revealed by God's Word. It seems that nowadays we Americans think of liberty as freedom to do what WE choose. Some may go so far as to say that it's freedom from tyranny. But, this freedom, rather than being a wide open free-for-all, has a very specific command: walk with God. What do we do when we walk with God? We live a Christian life. How do we know what this Christian life is? It is revealed in God's Word.
Let's be thankful that we have such easy access to God's Word. Let us bathe ourselves in His Word every day. Let us strive for truly knowing His Word, so we can walk with Him in goodness and in truth. And for all for all of this, let us give thanks!
"The Pilgrim wanted liberty for himself and his wife and little ones, and for his brethren, to walk with God in a Christian life as the rules and motives of such a life were revealed to him from God's Word."
Sunday, November 20, 2005
"God Is Our Refuge and Our Strength"
My family and I attended a wonderful church for about 12 years. It was imperfect, as anything instituted by man is wont to be, yet it was a place where I always felt like I truly worshipped the living and holy God on Sunday morning. We were a close knit group of caring people, we were challenged and encouraged by the weekly preaching, we took communion together each Sunday, we used liturgy gathered from years of church history, and we sang great hymns of the faith. Painfully small, our little church made the difficult decision to disband at the end of July of this year. In the ensuing months, my family and I have been searching for a new church home, and have not met with any success. We have found other churches to be lacking in so many criteria which are important to us. We suspected we would have to make some compromises, but little did we know the extent to which we would have to change our standards.
I love singing great hymns. Of the many things I miss about the Sunday worship to which I became accustomed, this one is weighing quite heavily on my heart. I miss the wonderful words, the melodies (and harmonies), having text AND music to read, and holding the hymnal in my hand. I miss the purposeful selection of hymns, based upon the church calendar and the Bible texts for the week. There doesn't appear to be much thought put into the decisions about what is sung each Sunday in many of the churches we have visited. And then, what IS sung, doesn't have any deep meaning to it.
I have an old Psalter Hymnal, published in 1959 by the Christian Reformed Church. More than half of it contains Psalms set to music. I searched it this afternoon, looking for hymns written early enough to have been in existence when the Pilgrims were living. With the Thanksgiving holiday on the immediate horizon, I wanted to sing some Pilgrim-era psalms with my children during school this week. Some of the tunes in this Psalter come from the Genevan Psalter of 1562, which was written under the guidance of John Calvin, and it was these sixteenth century hymns to which I was drawn.
A hymn written by Martin Luther (1483-1546) caught my eye. "God Is Our Refuge and Our Strength" is based upon Psalm 46, and sung to the tune I know of as "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." If you know the tune, try singing this hymn. The words are a comfort to me as I traverse this wilderness time of my life.
God Is Our Refuge and Our Strength
God is our refuge and our strength, A Helper ever near us;
We will not fear though earth be moved, For God is nigh to cheer us.
Although the mountains quake, And earth's foundations shake,
Though angry billows roar, And break against the shore,
Our mighty God will hear us.
God's city is forever blest, With living waters welling;
Since God is there she stands unmoved, 'Mid tumults round her swelling;
God speaks and all is peace, From war the nations cease;
The Lord of hosts is nigh, Our fathers' God Most High
Is our eternal dwelling.
Behold what God has done on earth; His wrath brings desolation,
His grace, commanding wars to cease, Brings peace to every nation;
Be still, for He is Lord, By all the earth adored;
The Lord of hosts is nigh, Our fathers' God Most High
Is our strong habitation.
I love singing great hymns. Of the many things I miss about the Sunday worship to which I became accustomed, this one is weighing quite heavily on my heart. I miss the wonderful words, the melodies (and harmonies), having text AND music to read, and holding the hymnal in my hand. I miss the purposeful selection of hymns, based upon the church calendar and the Bible texts for the week. There doesn't appear to be much thought put into the decisions about what is sung each Sunday in many of the churches we have visited. And then, what IS sung, doesn't have any deep meaning to it.
I have an old Psalter Hymnal, published in 1959 by the Christian Reformed Church. More than half of it contains Psalms set to music. I searched it this afternoon, looking for hymns written early enough to have been in existence when the Pilgrims were living. With the Thanksgiving holiday on the immediate horizon, I wanted to sing some Pilgrim-era psalms with my children during school this week. Some of the tunes in this Psalter come from the Genevan Psalter of 1562, which was written under the guidance of John Calvin, and it was these sixteenth century hymns to which I was drawn.
A hymn written by Martin Luther (1483-1546) caught my eye. "God Is Our Refuge and Our Strength" is based upon Psalm 46, and sung to the tune I know of as "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." If you know the tune, try singing this hymn. The words are a comfort to me as I traverse this wilderness time of my life.
God Is Our Refuge and Our Strength
God is our refuge and our strength, A Helper ever near us;
We will not fear though earth be moved, For God is nigh to cheer us.
Although the mountains quake, And earth's foundations shake,
Though angry billows roar, And break against the shore,
Our mighty God will hear us.
God's city is forever blest, With living waters welling;
Since God is there she stands unmoved, 'Mid tumults round her swelling;
God speaks and all is peace, From war the nations cease;
The Lord of hosts is nigh, Our fathers' God Most High
Is our eternal dwelling.
Behold what God has done on earth; His wrath brings desolation,
His grace, commanding wars to cease, Brings peace to every nation;
Be still, for He is Lord, By all the earth adored;
The Lord of hosts is nigh, Our fathers' God Most High
Is our strong habitation.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
"Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing"
As we approach Thanksgiving and ponder our blessings, I wanted to print the words to a favorite hymn of mine. The story behind the man who wrote the words makes this wonderful hymn even more amazing.
According to a book about hymns, Amazing Grace, by Kenneth Osbeck, Robert Robinson (1735-1790) lived in London. In his early teen years he hung around with a "notorious gang of hoodlums," and got into a lot of trouble. When Robinson was 17 years old, the famous evangelist George Whitefield was preaching in London. Robinson attended the meeting so he could "[scoff] at those poor, deluded Methodists." Instead, Robinson ended up becoming a Christian and soon felt called to preach the gospel. He became the pastor of a large Baptist church in Cambridge, England, and was known for being a good minister and scholar, despite his young age. Robinson wrote theological books and several hymns. "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing" was written when he was only 23 years old.
"Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing"
Come, Thou Fount of every blessing, Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing, Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet, Sung by flaming tongues above;
Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it, Mount of Thy redeeming love.
This my glad commemoration That 'til now I've safely come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure, Safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger, Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger, Interposed His precious blood.
O to grace how great a debtor Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, Bind my wandering heart to Thee:
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, Prone to leave the God I love:
Here's my heart, O take and seal it, Seal it for Thy courts above.
According to a book about hymns, Amazing Grace, by Kenneth Osbeck, Robert Robinson (1735-1790) lived in London. In his early teen years he hung around with a "notorious gang of hoodlums," and got into a lot of trouble. When Robinson was 17 years old, the famous evangelist George Whitefield was preaching in London. Robinson attended the meeting so he could "[scoff] at those poor, deluded Methodists." Instead, Robinson ended up becoming a Christian and soon felt called to preach the gospel. He became the pastor of a large Baptist church in Cambridge, England, and was known for being a good minister and scholar, despite his young age. Robinson wrote theological books and several hymns. "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing" was written when he was only 23 years old.
"Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing"
Come, Thou Fount of every blessing, Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing, Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet, Sung by flaming tongues above;
Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it, Mount of Thy redeeming love.
This my glad commemoration That 'til now I've safely come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure, Safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger, Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger, Interposed His precious blood.
O to grace how great a debtor Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, Bind my wandering heart to Thee:
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, Prone to leave the God I love:
Here's my heart, O take and seal it, Seal it for Thy courts above.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Mother's Day
No, I haven't misplaced my calendar. Yes, I know it's November. But I also know when to 'treasure these things in my heart.' Tonight I had one of those experiences that didn't start off particularly extraordinary. Yet, when the evening was over, I got to do something special for one of my children, and get rewarded with a huge smile. What a nice Mother's Day! A true Mother's Day!
Just before drifting off to sleep, my daughter (age 9) got up with a tummy ache. She thought she had to throw up, so I sat with her in the bathroom. The first thing she requested was, "Mama, please pray to God." After my prayer, she added, "God, if you know that I'm going to throw up, please let me do it soon!"
To calm her, I told my daughter a long story, improvised on the spot. It was about a (real) doll of hers who wanted a stuffed animal of her own. As my daughter's tummy began to calm down, I went to get her doll AND the littlest stuffed animal I could find in her collection. When I returned with the doll and the stuffed animal, you would have thought I'd brought my daughter the most magical gift in the world, judging by the look on her face.
When I tucked her back into bed, she said, "Mama, God answered our prayers, didn't He?" Isn't it a marvel when God does indeed answer our prayers for our children. Even in those times when we ourselves doubt He will. I think He must do this to help build up their faith so that when they are older, they will not falter when they suffer adversity, which they most certainly will and most certainly must.
Then, my daughter asked, "Mama, did you have that story all planned out?"
"No," I replied, "I just made it up right then and there."
"Wow!" she beamed. "You are the BEST storyteller in the world!"
She put her head on her pillow, still beaming, and gazed at me lovingly. That was when I decided I'd just had a wonderful Mother's Day. On November 12th.
Just before drifting off to sleep, my daughter (age 9) got up with a tummy ache. She thought she had to throw up, so I sat with her in the bathroom. The first thing she requested was, "Mama, please pray to God." After my prayer, she added, "God, if you know that I'm going to throw up, please let me do it soon!"
To calm her, I told my daughter a long story, improvised on the spot. It was about a (real) doll of hers who wanted a stuffed animal of her own. As my daughter's tummy began to calm down, I went to get her doll AND the littlest stuffed animal I could find in her collection. When I returned with the doll and the stuffed animal, you would have thought I'd brought my daughter the most magical gift in the world, judging by the look on her face.
When I tucked her back into bed, she said, "Mama, God answered our prayers, didn't He?" Isn't it a marvel when God does indeed answer our prayers for our children. Even in those times when we ourselves doubt He will. I think He must do this to help build up their faith so that when they are older, they will not falter when they suffer adversity, which they most certainly will and most certainly must.
Then, my daughter asked, "Mama, did you have that story all planned out?"
"No," I replied, "I just made it up right then and there."
"Wow!" she beamed. "You are the BEST storyteller in the world!"
She put her head on her pillow, still beaming, and gazed at me lovingly. That was when I decided I'd just had a wonderful Mother's Day. On November 12th.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Veterans' Day
On this day, I'd like to commemorate two very different Veterans. I have met neither one. Yet, each one serves our country and sacrificed much for my freedom and safety. One is currently serving in Iraq. The other is buried in a cemetery in Iowa.
The first one, I saw on the pages of a newspaper article back in March of 2005. His face blazed across the photos, and my (then) eight-year-old daughter decided she wanted to write a letter to him. When he wrote back, my children tipped the envelope over to see if any sand fell out. They are too young to truly appreciate what he has been through just to be able to serve in the military, let alone what he must do every day in Iraq. But they pray for this soldier every day, and in their own way, I see them appreciate his service for them and our country. My daughter calls him "her special friend," and he serves with the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment out of Colorado Springs, Colorado. I'd like to share a paragraph from the most recent letter we've received from him.
"We should be a little over half way through this year long rotation and with the cooler temperatures come an increased longing for home. We are mindful however that we still have a mission to accomplish and we are working diligently to ensure that our time here has been well spent. Our hope is to leave this place a little better than it was when we arrived."
How can you not be proud to be protected by a man such as this? Please remember Captain Adams and his men in your prayers.
The second Veteran I'd like to tell you about was a 22 year old Iowa Army National Guardsman from a small town in Iowa. His unit was providing security for government and nonmilitary organizations in Afghanistan. This young man's Humvee was struck by a rocket-propelled grenade and small arms fire, and he gave his life for you and me and countless others on November 1, 2004.
My family bought a US flag from a "Healing Field" that was in our town in September, and we received, at random, the flag commemorating this young soldier. Upon writing to his parents, we received the nicest note from his father, which I would like to share.
"My wife and I will gladly let you fly that flag any time you want. Treat it with the respect it deserves, not only for James, for that flag also represents our country.
"Don't let the media get you down. We talked to James regularly while he was 'over there.' He told us of all the good we are doing, people smiling about how they now have a say in what happens, schools, hospitals, etc... In other words, KEEP THE RESOLVE! James knew that.
"Bless you, from one patriot to another."
Please pray for the family of this young soldier. God bless these courageous and humble Americans. May we never forget their sacrifices and may we always do what we can to keep our country free and great!
"You are the leaven which binds together the entire fabric of our national system of defense.
Duty, Honor, Country.
This does not mean that you are warmongers. On the contrary, the soldier, above all other people, prays for peace, for he must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.
Duty, Honor, Country."
from Army General Douglas MacArthur's farewell address to the cadets at West Point
May 12, 1962
The first one, I saw on the pages of a newspaper article back in March of 2005. His face blazed across the photos, and my (then) eight-year-old daughter decided she wanted to write a letter to him. When he wrote back, my children tipped the envelope over to see if any sand fell out. They are too young to truly appreciate what he has been through just to be able to serve in the military, let alone what he must do every day in Iraq. But they pray for this soldier every day, and in their own way, I see them appreciate his service for them and our country. My daughter calls him "her special friend," and he serves with the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment out of Colorado Springs, Colorado. I'd like to share a paragraph from the most recent letter we've received from him.
"We should be a little over half way through this year long rotation and with the cooler temperatures come an increased longing for home. We are mindful however that we still have a mission to accomplish and we are working diligently to ensure that our time here has been well spent. Our hope is to leave this place a little better than it was when we arrived."
How can you not be proud to be protected by a man such as this? Please remember Captain Adams and his men in your prayers.
The second Veteran I'd like to tell you about was a 22 year old Iowa Army National Guardsman from a small town in Iowa. His unit was providing security for government and nonmilitary organizations in Afghanistan. This young man's Humvee was struck by a rocket-propelled grenade and small arms fire, and he gave his life for you and me and countless others on November 1, 2004.
My family bought a US flag from a "Healing Field" that was in our town in September, and we received, at random, the flag commemorating this young soldier. Upon writing to his parents, we received the nicest note from his father, which I would like to share.
"My wife and I will gladly let you fly that flag any time you want. Treat it with the respect it deserves, not only for James, for that flag also represents our country.
"Don't let the media get you down. We talked to James regularly while he was 'over there.' He told us of all the good we are doing, people smiling about how they now have a say in what happens, schools, hospitals, etc... In other words, KEEP THE RESOLVE! James knew that.
"Bless you, from one patriot to another."
Please pray for the family of this young soldier. God bless these courageous and humble Americans. May we never forget their sacrifices and may we always do what we can to keep our country free and great!
"You are the leaven which binds together the entire fabric of our national system of defense.
Duty, Honor, Country.
This does not mean that you are warmongers. On the contrary, the soldier, above all other people, prays for peace, for he must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.
Duty, Honor, Country."
from Army General Douglas MacArthur's farewell address to the cadets at West Point
May 12, 1962
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
So What Does This Have to Do with Motherhood?
So what exactly do the riots in France have to do with motherhood in suburbia? They have quite a bit to do with it actually. France did not get into this situation overnight. If we're astute, we in America will learn from Europe's mistakes before it is too late.
We're following much too closely in their footsteps as it is. First, the degree of ignorance of IMPORTANT truths is appalling. We spend so much time, effort, and money on the entertainment industry (I include professional sports in this category) and the fluff of life. Second, political correctness has run amok in our culture. We have denied ourselves the ability, even the obligation, to say what needs to be said. Consequently, evil is allowed to fester and eventually triumph. Third, too many people in the U.S. look to the government to solve society's ills (nevermind the problem of agreement on what those ills are, in the first place). Fourth, most people in political office are looking out for their political futures and the advancement of the Party, rather than what is best for this country.
What is best for the cattle rancher in Nebraska? What is best for the teacher in inner city Detroit? What is best for the housekeeper at the Days Inn in Miami? What is best for the coal miner in West Virginia? What is best for the priest of the small parish in rural Vermont? What is best for the single welfare mom in Houston? What is best for the home schooling mom in Lander, Wyoming? What is best for the WWII vet at the VA hospital in Honolulu? What is best for the concertmaster of the Chicago Symphony? What is best for the drunk sleeping on the sidewalk in L.A.? What is best for the soldiers in Iraq? And, yes, what is best for Jennifer Aniston?
If I don't care what happens to America, if I don't try to see what is happening in the world and how it impacts us, if I don't try to teach my children the truth, how to recognize the truth, how to fight for the truth...then I have failed as a parent. If I teach them who they are in Christ, if I teach them to get A's in Math, if I shuttle them to their music lessons; but I don't urge them to search out the truth and fight for it...then I have failed as a parent. And if I say nothing about "youths" rioting all over France...then, too, I have failed as a parent.
We're following much too closely in their footsteps as it is. First, the degree of ignorance of IMPORTANT truths is appalling. We spend so much time, effort, and money on the entertainment industry (I include professional sports in this category) and the fluff of life. Second, political correctness has run amok in our culture. We have denied ourselves the ability, even the obligation, to say what needs to be said. Consequently, evil is allowed to fester and eventually triumph. Third, too many people in the U.S. look to the government to solve society's ills (nevermind the problem of agreement on what those ills are, in the first place). Fourth, most people in political office are looking out for their political futures and the advancement of the Party, rather than what is best for this country.
What is best for the cattle rancher in Nebraska? What is best for the teacher in inner city Detroit? What is best for the housekeeper at the Days Inn in Miami? What is best for the coal miner in West Virginia? What is best for the priest of the small parish in rural Vermont? What is best for the single welfare mom in Houston? What is best for the home schooling mom in Lander, Wyoming? What is best for the WWII vet at the VA hospital in Honolulu? What is best for the concertmaster of the Chicago Symphony? What is best for the drunk sleeping on the sidewalk in L.A.? What is best for the soldiers in Iraq? And, yes, what is best for Jennifer Aniston?
If I don't care what happens to America, if I don't try to see what is happening in the world and how it impacts us, if I don't try to teach my children the truth, how to recognize the truth, how to fight for the truth...then I have failed as a parent. If I teach them who they are in Christ, if I teach them to get A's in Math, if I shuttle them to their music lessons; but I don't urge them to search out the truth and fight for it...then I have failed as a parent. And if I say nothing about "youths" rioting all over France...then, too, I have failed as a parent.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
It's Deja Vu All Over Again
Here are excerpts from a great article by Mark Steyn, from Sunday's Chicago Sun-Times. For the complete article go to www.SteynOnline. It's worth reading.
Wake Up, Europe, You've a War on Your Hands
November 6, 2005
BY MARK STEYN SUN-TIMES COLUMNIST
As Thursday's edition of the Guardian reported in London: ''French youths fired at police and burned over 300 cars last night as towns around Paris experienced their worst night of violence in a week of urban unrest.''
''French youths,'' huh? Granted that most of the "youths" are technically citizens of the French Republic, it doesn't take much time in les banlieus of Paris to discover that the rioters do not think of their primary identity as ''French'': They're young men from North Africa growing ever more estranged from the broader community with each passing year and wedded ever more intensely to an assertive Muslim identity more implacable than anything you're likely to find in the Middle East.
For half a decade, French Arabs have been carrying on a low-level intifada against synagogues, kosher butchers, Jewish schools, etc. The concern of the political class has been to prevent the spread of these attacks to targets of more, ah, general interest. They seem to have lost that battle. Unlike America's Europhiles, France's Arab street correctly identified Chirac's opposition to the Iraq war for what it was: a sign of weakness.
The French have been here before, of course. Seven-thirty-two. Not 7:32 Paris time, which is when the nightly Citroen-torching begins, but 732 A.D. -- as in one and a third millennia ago. By then, the Muslims had advanced a thousand miles north of Gibraltar to control Spain and southern France up to the banks of the Loire. In October 732, the Moorish general Abd al-Rahman and his Muslim army were not exactly at the gates of Paris, but they were within 200 miles, just south of the great Frankish shrine of St. Martin of Tours. Somewhere on the road between Poitiers and Tours, they met a Frankish force and, unlike other Christian armies in Europe, this one held its ground ''like a wall . . . a firm glacial mass,'' as the Chronicle of Isidore puts it. A week later, Abd al-Rahman was dead, the Muslims were heading south, and the French general, Charles, had earned himself the surname ''Martel'' -- or ''the Hammer.''
If Chirac isn't exactly Charles Martel, the rioters aren't doing a bad impression of the Muslim armies of 13 centuries ago: They're seizing their opportunities, testing their foe, probing his weak spots. If burning the 'burbs gets you more ''respect'' from Chirac, they'll burn 'em again, and again.
Wake Up, Europe, You've a War on Your Hands
November 6, 2005
BY MARK STEYN SUN-TIMES COLUMNIST
As Thursday's edition of the Guardian reported in London: ''French youths fired at police and burned over 300 cars last night as towns around Paris experienced their worst night of violence in a week of urban unrest.''
''French youths,'' huh? Granted that most of the "youths" are technically citizens of the French Republic, it doesn't take much time in les banlieus of Paris to discover that the rioters do not think of their primary identity as ''French'': They're young men from North Africa growing ever more estranged from the broader community with each passing year and wedded ever more intensely to an assertive Muslim identity more implacable than anything you're likely to find in the Middle East.
For half a decade, French Arabs have been carrying on a low-level intifada against synagogues, kosher butchers, Jewish schools, etc. The concern of the political class has been to prevent the spread of these attacks to targets of more, ah, general interest. They seem to have lost that battle. Unlike America's Europhiles, France's Arab street correctly identified Chirac's opposition to the Iraq war for what it was: a sign of weakness.
The French have been here before, of course. Seven-thirty-two. Not 7:32 Paris time, which is when the nightly Citroen-torching begins, but 732 A.D. -- as in one and a third millennia ago. By then, the Muslims had advanced a thousand miles north of Gibraltar to control Spain and southern France up to the banks of the Loire. In October 732, the Moorish general Abd al-Rahman and his Muslim army were not exactly at the gates of Paris, but they were within 200 miles, just south of the great Frankish shrine of St. Martin of Tours. Somewhere on the road between Poitiers and Tours, they met a Frankish force and, unlike other Christian armies in Europe, this one held its ground ''like a wall . . . a firm glacial mass,'' as the Chronicle of Isidore puts it. A week later, Abd al-Rahman was dead, the Muslims were heading south, and the French general, Charles, had earned himself the surname ''Martel'' -- or ''the Hammer.''
If Chirac isn't exactly Charles Martel, the rioters aren't doing a bad impression of the Muslim armies of 13 centuries ago: They're seizing their opportunities, testing their foe, probing his weak spots. If burning the 'burbs gets you more ''respect'' from Chirac, they'll burn 'em again, and again.
Monday, November 07, 2005
What History Teaches Us
Monday, November 7, 2005
"What experience and history teach is this -- that people and governments never have learned anything from history, or acted on principles deduced from it."
G.W.F. Hegel (1770-1831) German philosopher
(I am not the student of history that I wish to be, so forgive forthcoming inaccuracies...)
In light of the terrible unrest and rioting in France of late, I sought to learn something from history. It was on this date (by the modern calendar), November 7, 1917, that the Bolshevik Revolution officially began in Russia. What might it have to do with France today? Consider this.
Fourteen years prior to 1917, Lenin's arm of the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party were clearly in the minority. But at a party meeting in London, they were able to gain a majority vote when some other delegates left the meeting in anger over an issue of party membership. Because of their majority, they were able to win control of the party newspaper and the Central Committee. Lenin's belief was that his branch of the party could then seize power in Russia with the help of the workers and peasants. And, of course, they were successful shortly thereafter. Now, doesn't this sound familiar? A minority gains control gradually because the people who can control what happens are quibbling about lesser problems, or simply walking away. Then, the masterminds of revolution are aided by "workers and peasants." (My Denver newspaper describes the current French rioters as "youths," "unemployed residents of working-class neighborhoods," or "immigrants.")
Please don't misunderstand me, I am not against all immigrants, youths, or working-class people. But, in our current excess of political correctness and putting our heads in the sand, we (and to a greater degree, France) don't recognize what is happening here in the West.
"What experience and history teach is this -- that people and governments never have learned anything from history, or acted on principles deduced from it."
G.W.F. Hegel (1770-1831) German philosopher
(I am not the student of history that I wish to be, so forgive forthcoming inaccuracies...)
In light of the terrible unrest and rioting in France of late, I sought to learn something from history. It was on this date (by the modern calendar), November 7, 1917, that the Bolshevik Revolution officially began in Russia. What might it have to do with France today? Consider this.
Fourteen years prior to 1917, Lenin's arm of the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party were clearly in the minority. But at a party meeting in London, they were able to gain a majority vote when some other delegates left the meeting in anger over an issue of party membership. Because of their majority, they were able to win control of the party newspaper and the Central Committee. Lenin's belief was that his branch of the party could then seize power in Russia with the help of the workers and peasants. And, of course, they were successful shortly thereafter. Now, doesn't this sound familiar? A minority gains control gradually because the people who can control what happens are quibbling about lesser problems, or simply walking away. Then, the masterminds of revolution are aided by "workers and peasants." (My Denver newspaper describes the current French rioters as "youths," "unemployed residents of working-class neighborhoods," or "immigrants.")
Please don't misunderstand me, I am not against all immigrants, youths, or working-class people. But, in our current excess of political correctness and putting our heads in the sand, we (and to a greater degree, France) don't recognize what is happening here in the West.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
All Saints Day
The first Sunday in November is the traditional date for the Christian church to celebrate All Saints Day. How many churches observed this today? Not enough, I daresay. Many Protestant churches shy away from the day because of its traditional association with medieval Catholicism, where homage was given to the departed canonized saints of the church. But, "saints" can also refer to every believer whom God has called by His grace and continues to sanctify. Saints can simply be those believers who have gone to their heavenly home.
In honor of the day, I print the words to the hymn "For All the Saints," written in 1864 by Bishop William W. How. It was originally used as Anglican church liturgy commemorating All Saints Day. It was later set to the music of British composer, Ralph Vaughn Williams (1872-1958). And, as you read the words, or sing them, remember the three school girls who were beheaded in Indonesia last week by Muslim extremists.
For All the Saints
For all the saints who from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,
Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou wast their rock, their fortress, and their might,
Thou, Lord, their captain in the well-fought fight;
Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true light:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
O may Thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold,
Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old.
And win with them the victor's crown of gold:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;
The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of glory passes on His way:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,
Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
In honor of the day, I print the words to the hymn "For All the Saints," written in 1864 by Bishop William W. How. It was originally used as Anglican church liturgy commemorating All Saints Day. It was later set to the music of British composer, Ralph Vaughn Williams (1872-1958). And, as you read the words, or sing them, remember the three school girls who were beheaded in Indonesia last week by Muslim extremists.
For All the Saints
For all the saints who from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,
Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou wast their rock, their fortress, and their might,
Thou, Lord, their captain in the well-fought fight;
Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true light:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
O may Thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold,
Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old.
And win with them the victor's crown of gold:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;
The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of glory passes on His way:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,
Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
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