One of the things some local Baptists do well here is a men's prayer breakfast. They meet every Friday and they're a good, straight-up group of guys who like to ride, shoot and fish and aren't ashamed of their faith.
I like to go for the prayer and fellowship and to hear a short, simple but direct message. Today's was on Elijah and the prophets of Baal in 1 Kings. Elijah called down fire from heaven and confounded the evil prophets of an evil god. These met a grisly end, which serves as a warning to the idolatry of our dark and increasingly barbarous age. So be filled with the fire of God that is the fire of love, and repent.
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My mind went back from that to Exodus, the burning bush and the Divine Name, I AM THAT AM, or, in the Septuagint, He Who Is, and then forward in time to Pentecost and the tongues of fire that rested upon the Apostles.
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Some say that the episcopal mitre represents this fire. Others again point to the awkward bit in the Gospel about wolves in sheep's clothing, to say nothing of the demon Baal and its false prophets.
Make of that what you will.
LSP
3 comments:
The guy in the 'no comment' photo looks a lot like Garrett Morris, of Saturday Night Live fame.
It's fun to get together with people of like minds and have a meal. Breakfast, being the most important meal of the day, always works for me. Riding, shooting, fishing and just getting out of the urban hell is a yearning that many of us feel. Sometimes I wonder how it is that I could be so lost as to be -- where I am, surrounded by concrete, Muslims and the hoard of humanity. I didn't grow up that way. The need to feed a family overcame my natural aversion to such things. Now I just have a cool couple of trucks to take me out of it from time to time.
You know, I feel pretty fortunate to be in the country. There was a time when I wouldn't have, stupidly.
But look, you do have the consolation of trucks and many fine guns.
That makes up for a lot.
I've got the guns, working on getting the truck back. (Previously the father-in-law's, til he ran a stop sign last month, got hit on the passenger front quarter and door, and we all agreed no more driving for him (he's 78 anyway, and been showing more age-related problems lately). Now it's sitting at the garage getting repaired, once them and the insurance agree on what needs fixing-- seems the insurance appraiser completely overlooked the wheel bearing being cracked, in favor of all the bent metal above it.)
It's felt funny not having a pickup around here for the utility of it, even if I'm of limited use myself these last few months. I'm proud of myself, felt good enough today to get out back and mow our small yard, as the grass was tall enough to lose dogs in!
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