February11th
by Krista Graham, Special to The Sacred Sandwich
Once there was a man named Philippe. He was a spiritual guide in an emerging community. One day he decided to go on a journey. So, he did. As he was walking along the road, focusing on the journey and not the destination, he found himself alongside the chariot of an African official. The man in the chariot was reading from a parchment scroll. He was reading aloud, so Philippe was able to overhear what the man read. Read More | Comments
February8th
As some of you may be aware, The Sacred Sandwich Newspaper and Publishing Company was recently victimized by a nefarious vandal known as the “Phantom Tagger,” who had been defacing our property with various graffiti slogans extolling the virtue of Tim Challies. Mr. Challies, dubbed “The World’s Most Famous Christian Blogger” by the Pyromaniacs website, had no connection to the crimes as far as we knew, but it did raise suspicion that certain elements in the Christian blogosphere were becoming factious and over-competitive over Technorati rankings and RSS feed subscriptions.
These suspicions were seemingly verified when a photograph, secretly taken by Marge Hindenburg under cover of night, appeared to show an employee of Calvinistic Cartoons in the act of tagging our building. After a few phone calls to the Calvinistic Cartoons home office in McKinney, TX, however, it was discovered that their “Romans 9″ grenade-clad employee, Corky Velveeta, was actually in South Dakota shopping at Payless Shoes for horseshoes at the time of the crime. Needless to say, we were perplexed. We had no idea there was a Payless Shoe Source in South Dakota.
With the help of law enforcement and the watchful residents of Gazingstock, however, the mystery was soon solved. It turns out the real culprit was one Coddington Borax, a maniacal anti-Calvinist activist, master of disguise, and semi-professional bowler who slipped unseen into town and committed these sinister acts in order to (as he later confessed) “sow the seeds of discord” among the Reformed community. His mission was simple: to sabotage the operations at The Sacred Sandwich, make it appear to be the work of prominent Calvinists in the Christian blogosphere, and start a full-blown blog war. Thankfully, his efforts failed.
On his way out of town, Mr. Borax made the mistake of stopping for lunch at McGonigle’s General Store and Diner, where he ordered their famous TULIP Burger, but had the audacity to ask for the sandwich to be served without the Total Depravity Mayo, the Limited Atonement Onions, and the Perseverance of the Saints Pickles. This flagrant display of Pelagian sensibilities immediately caught the attention of League of Tyndale member, Ernie Gutfuller, who was enjoying his Spurgeon Meatloaf in the next booth. Sensing that time was of the essence, Ernie quickly called Sheriff Lazenby’s office to report the stranger’s behavior… right after he ordered some pie and got a refill on coffee.
When Ernie’s report was finally called in, Patrolman Kirk Whelan was dispatched to the scene just in time to stop Borax from escaping down Highway 24 in his Buick LeSabre. As soon as the officer pulled Borax over and approached the vehicle, Whelan knew he’d caught the Phantom Tagger. Borax’s index finger clearly bore the stain of red paint, and in the back seat lay the implements of his villainy: three cans of Krylon and a giant grenade costume.
Coddington Borax is now charged with defacing a mule and impersonating an explosive theological device, and is currently awaiting trial in the Nodaway County Jail. We will keep you informed of any updates in this case, but are extremely thankful that this matter seems to be closer to resolution. We would like to apologize to Tim Challies and Corky Velveeta if our reporting of this story has caused them any harm or cast aspersions upon their characters. Let it be known that The Sacred Sandwich considers these men to be a valuable part of the Christian blogosphere, and we hope that folks will visit their websites on a regular basis, if they don’t already.
As for our loyal readers, we hope that this incident has not dissuaded you from your continued support of The League of Tyndale and The Sacred Sandwich. As always, we will endeavor to promote the sufficiency and authority of Scripture as the clear remedy for the folly and error of the postmodern church, no matter who tries to stop us.
For now, dear readers… Adieu!
September14th
Revealing further evidence that American churches are sinking deeper into apostasy, a new nationwide survey by The Barna Group discovered that almost 23% of U.S. churches are now using Papyrus typeface in their logos and church bulletins.
According to Barna’s polling data acquired by a random sampling of churches around the country: 57% of American churches continue to use the traditional Times Roman typeface, while 23% have succumbed to Papyrus, 15% have abandoned written language altogether and only communicate with YouTube videos, and the remaining 5% use Old English font because “that’s what King James used.”
“I think it’s safe to say that the Apocalypse is very, very near,” said Bob Vincent, spokesman for The Barna Group. “We thought things were bad when our past research showed that a large number of professing Christians didn’t believe in Jesus, but this insidious Papyrus lettering fad is clearly a sign of the end times.”
Created in 1982 by Chris Costello, Papyrus is a typeface that “merges traditional roman letterform with the look of hand-crafted antique calligraphy” to produce an universally-abhorred font that lazy, amateur logo designers use almost daily to torture the public. It is commonly overused by restaurants, health and lifestyle companies, beauty spas, and New Age organizations.
Earlier this summer, Living Word Community Church found itself on the verge of a nasty church split because of the dreaded typeface. When LWCC leadership unveiled the church’s new logo on the jumbo-tron during a 9:30 worship/celebration service in August, audible gasps of horror were heard throughout the congregation as people immediately recognized the Papyrus font. Thankfully, Sunday school teacher Shelley Ladou was able to shield the children’s eyes and quickly return them to the classroom before they were exposed to the offensive lettering.
“Papyrus font?” lamented Betty Teagarden, a church member of LWCC for over ten years. “It took them three months and one thousand dollars to come up with a logo using Papyrus? Good grief, they might as well use Comic Sans MS and send us all straight to hell.”
Though most in the congregation learned to live with the new logo, Betty Teagarden and eleven other members eventually left Living Word to find a new church fellowship that “still believes in Helvetica.”
Surprisingly, The Barna Group holds out hope that there is still time for an eventual backlash to squelch the popularity of Papyrus before it’s too late. “Our latest research seems to indicate that congregations get bored easily and will soon be looking for the next popular typeface to come along that they can embrace,” explained Vincent. “In fact, we’ve seen evidence that Hobo may be making a huge comeback. May God helps us all.”
September10th
From an earlier report by our wayfaring reporter:
Recently I heard on the radio that a local Christian church was going to be hosting a community-wide “Blessing of the Animals Ecumenical Service” at a nearby park this month. My first thought upon hearing the announcement was that the church was having a barbeque and would be asking a blessing on the meat, but then I realized that I totally misunderstood what this whole “blessing of the animals” was about. Apparently they were talking about blessing live, uncooked animals. Go figure.
In case you aren’t aware of this “animal blessing” phenomenon, let me tell you what I know. Evidently there is a growing trend within some corners of Christianity to offer some sort of yearly nondenominational prayer service where all pet owners can bring their beloved animals (or even their favorite stuffed animals, believe it or not) to be ritualistically blessed by God. From what I have gathered, it is a religious ceremony that was first made famous at Manhattan’s Episcopal Cathedral of St. John the Divine, as part of their annual celebration that honors St. Francis, the patron saint of animals and the environment.
Based on a 2003 account of the yearly gathering at St. John the Divine, here is essentially what takes place: animal lovers bring their pets to the main altar of the church in a grand procession, whereupon the attending Bishop gives homage to “Brother Wolf, Sister Whale, Sister Loon” and other sundry creatures, and then recites a benediction for the animals that says, “Live without fear. Your Creator loves you, made you holy and has always protected you. Go in peace to follow the good road and may God’s blessing be with you always. Amen.” Afterwards a throng of clergy go forth and individually bless each animal by laying on hands or sprinkling them with holy water, which could be quite tricky if you were dealing with some kid’s pet tarantula.
Of course, when I first heard some of the details about these animal blessing ceremonies, I had three immediate questions:
The thing that raised my curiosity the most, however, was the fact that these events are billed as “ecumenical.” Now correct me if I’m wrong, but I was under the impression that the animal kingdom has never had to deal with denominational divisions. And even if there are animals of differing faiths, I have to wonder if they even have the ability to adopt an ecumenical spirit with each other. I mean, would a falcon really be able to maintain the proper level of ecumenism with a plump rabbit sitting next to him? Could Precious the cat look past her inherent doctrinal differences with Buster the hamster?
I would think that an ecumenical spirit would be very difficult to maintain, even between animals of a similar type. For example, take a lion and a housecat, and then look at the possibility of these two feline cousins meeting at an ecumenical service. In some sense you could say that these two cats are so closely related that they are the zoological equivalent of a Catholic and an Anglican. Still, I can’t help but think that the lion would promptly eat the tabby before the invocation was even given. This is not to imply, of course, that a Catholic has ever eaten an Anglican during an ecumenical service, but then again Anglicans are an acquired taste.
The point I’m trying to make is this: I’ve watched enough Animal Planet on cable television to know that animals aren’t exactly the most well-mannered and virtuous beings around. It’s kind of hard for animals to develop a proper biblical worldview or godly disposition when they’re spending all their time eating each other. I would imagine that even animals of likeminded faith would have difficulty getting together for Bible study. In fact, I can hear their group leader now: “Turn your Bibles to 1st Thessa… Alright, Phil, did you just put Ted in your mouth? Spit him out right now!”
I realize that this imaginary scenario sounds pretty ridiculous, but then again, this is exactly what happens when these animal blessing ceremonies try to cast animals in the image of man by holding them up as our spiritual brothers and sisters.
I ask you, why do people today insist on ascribing human characteristics to animals? Proof of this phenomenon can be found in the publication of several best-selling calendars that contain photographs of dogs in dresses. Do dogs like to wear dresses? Perhaps they do if the dresses are made out of bacon; but generally speaking, dogs abhor fashion. If you’ve ever seen the “just kill me now” expression on Paris Hilton’s Chihuahua when she dresses the poor dog in French couture, then you know what I’m talking about.
Which leads me back to my main concern with these animal blessing ceremonies: Despite their good intentions, they seem to promote the false idea that animals have equal standing with mankind in the eyes of God. Essentially, they are proclaiming an unbiblical concept whose foundation is largely built on evolutionary theory, an underlying disdain for man, and a fanciful notion that our pets will one day go to heaven. As fond as I am of my own pets, however, I can find no biblical warrant to support the position that animals are holy creatures with eternal souls that are in need of God’s extra-biblical blessing through religious pomp and ceremony.
The Bible plainly states that men, not animals, are made in God’s image to rule over His creation (Genesis 1:26). In addition, Jesus made it quite clear that while God does not forget to care for the sparrows, a man is still of much greater value than a whole flock of birds (Matthew 10:31).
Look, I don’t mind if Christians feel a need to thank God for his creation and the creatures over which He gave us stewardship and dominion, but must we denigrate God’s redemptive plan by lowering the status of man to that of an animal? After all, it is redeemed men, not animals, who will one day be fellow heirs with Christ, partake in the divine nature, and worship Him through all eternity (Romans 8:17; 2 Peter 1:3). To somehow intertwine animals into that equation and speculate that they are equally worthy of redemption is to start down that slippery slope towards a belief in universal salvation. In other words, if Butch the pit bull, who just mauled the mailman, can go to heaven, then what’s stopping your unsaved relatives, who never bit anyone, from getting there, too?
Furthermore, I fear that by constantly seeking God’s special blessing upon earthly interests like our job, our house, or our pets, that we are in some way ignoring or discounting the greatest blessing God has ever given us… Jesus Christ. Perhaps we would be better served to place our primary focus on the blessing of Christ in order to bring about the blessings due to the rest of His creation. Maybe we need to make sure that the blessing of the Gospel is spread first and foremost before we promote ecumenical activities that appear to be more grounded in Christ-less worldliness and self-interest.
As an aside, let me add that I once owned an Old English Sheepdog named Truman, who passed away some years ago, and I dearly miss him. And though I certainly do not equate his company on the same level as my relationship with those of my fellow man, I will always remember Truman as a good dog: very devoted, humble, and faithful in his service to me. I truly believe that God blessed me with his existence, even though he was just an animal. Perhaps it can be said that the Lord, in His unfathomable wisdom, gave me this sheepdog to be another example of how to be a genuine servant. Jesus certainly made such a connection to the Canaanite woman when he likened true humility to a dog begging for scraps from his Master’s table (Matthew 15).
Bottom line: the Bible tells us that God gave us animals as a blessing to man. He created these creatures to serve us, and to fulfill many God-ordained uses including food, clothing and religious sacrifice, which most of these animal blessing ceremonies seem to conveniently ignore or even denounce.
God bless the animals? Certainly. But let’s not fall into the trap of promoting an unbiblical mythology or sentimentality that gives every pet the same position as those people redeemed by the blood of Christ.
Unless, of course, you can prove your sea-monkeys are Baptist.
August31st
Hot on the heels of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America’s decision to allow the appointment of non-celibate gays to the clergy, another prominent Christian denomination has decided this week to allow practicing drunkards in the pulpit.
Meeting in Las Vegas, leaders of the Evangelical Lukewarm Christians in Apostasy (ELCA-Not the Lutherans) voted in favor of giving their local congregations the authority to choose ministers or lay leaders who may be in “lifelong, monogamous relationships with alcohol.”
Said the denomination’s president, Ben Halifax, “Since the Lutheran ELCA has courageously decided to ignore the condemnation of homosexuals in 1st Corinthians 6:9-10, we figured it was time for our own denomination to ignore the verses’ reference to drunkards and immediately loosen our outdated and unloving restrictions on boozehounds.”
A motion to also include the acceptance of clerical fornicators, adulterers, idolators, thieves, revilers, and swindlers was tabled until next year’s meeting.
The surprise decision to liberalize the church’s drunkard policy came at the perfect time for the denomination’s small branch in Torrance, California, where popular pastor, Glen Morehouse, had been barred from ministry last year due to his open and committed relationship with Johnnie Walker. With the historic vote, Morehouse can now officially stagger back to the pulpit and still maintain his alternative lifestyle.
His eyes reddened by tears of joy and 80 proof Scotch, Pastor Morehouse commended the ELCA (Not the Lutherans) leadership for allowing him to continue in his Kingdom work. “I jes wanna shay, it was sush a prooouu moam comin’ ta shee thish inna histacle vent… Ya no whaa um sayin’? Uh-oh… I thin’ um gonna thro up…”
Martha Wackenhut, Torrance church member and designated driver, also commended the decision, but was much more articulate. “We’re thrilled that the national leadership has finally recognized Pastor Glen’s value as a non-sober man of God,” she said on behalf of the congregation. “Whenever we’ve needed his pastoral advice and leadership, he’s always been there for us on his favorite barstool down at O’Malley’s. Quite frankly, if this vote hadn’t gone through, we’re pretty sure we would’ve lost Pastor Glen to the Presbyterians.”
Advocates of change in the ELCA (Not the Lutherans) rejoiced after the vote and were later found at the Hard Rock Cafe celebrating their victory with mojitos and Jagermeister shots. “We’re toasting to greater fairness tonight,” explained Pete Lutowski, executive director of Bottoms Up, a drunk rights advocacy group within the church. “Drunken clergy are now free to be who they are and enjoy the love and companionship of their alcoholic buzz.”
“Bottom line, this is a heart issue,” added Lutowski. “Okay, it’s a liver issue, too, but it’s mostly a heart issue. It’s time to quit acting like pharisaical tee-totalers who are hung up on judgmental prooftexts and start showing some Christian love to our drunken brethren who want nothing more than to give out sloppy back slaps and shout, ‘I love you, man!’ to an unsaved stranger. If getting sloshed is so wrong, how come Jesus changed water into wine and jump-started the first Christian drinking party two thousand years ago?”
“A-mehn, bruther!” shouted Pastor Morehouse from the floor.
July22nd
Last week Oswald Paddock was doing some night fishing out at Nodaway Lake when he saw the Loch Ness monster swimming near the north shore. At least, that’s what he told the lunch crowd over at McGonigle’s General Store & Diner the next day while he was eating his BLT. Most of the diners scoffed at his big fish story, of course, but Thelma Dinwiddie (of all people) overheard Oswald’s claim and immediately relayed the story to Bertha Stettner, the town gossi— um, I mean, the town news reporter. By the time the story winded its way through Gazingstock’s information highway, the sighting of the Loch Ness monster had everyone in town speculating that a celebrity like Nessie was most likely vacationing in northwest Missouri to get away from the Scottish paparazzi.
It wasn’t long before Claretta Gilpin, a clerk over at the courthouse, heard the story and called the sheriff’s office to report the Nessie sighting. Deputy Kenny Tatterson, the sheriff’s brother-in-law, was dispatched to the lake to investigate Oswald’s story, but he couldn’t verify a thing. What Kenny did spy, however, was a few empty bottles of Oswald’s favorite beverage floating near the shoreline where Oswald had reportedly seen the monster. No, it wasn’t alcohol; it was just Grape Nehi, but everybody knew that too much carbonated sugar made Oswald nuttier than squirrel’s breath. As far as Kenny was concerned, the mystery was solved.
But that wasn’t the end of the story. During the next 24 hours, sightings of a gigantic lake creature were reported by other folks— folks who (unlike Oswald Paddock) wore shoes, spoke in complete sentences, and didn’t wear purple mustaches. Their stories were harder to dismiss, and Sheriff Tom Lazenby, driven by devoted public service (and his upcoming re-election campaign), decided to personally investigate the mystery and solve it just in time for the evening edition of The Nodaway County Tattler and Mule Trader.
Using his own bass boat and only charging a nominal rental fee to the county, Sheriff Lazenby and two deputies trolled the waters of Nodaway Lake for several hours, but found no evidence of the slippery prehistoric beast that witnesses had described. Onlookers on the shore were confused as to why the three law enforcement officers were using fishing rods during their lake investigation, but Sheriff Lazenby assured the crowd that it was all part of a sophisticated water search strategy that was first developed by undercover FBI agent, Harold Ensley. The six catfish that the sheriff had detained in his boat were being taken in for questioning.
Back at headquarters (after an impromptu fish fry), Sheriff Lazenby and his men concocted a plan to capture the aquatic beast in the dead of night, when perhaps the creature would least expect to be discovered. Armed with a Famous Monsters magazine for reference purposes, a can of mosquito spray, and a roll of toilet paper, the sheriff and his men hunkered down in the woods that bordered the north shore of Nodaway Lake and waited in the dark for the Loch Ness monster to make an appearance.
Sure enough, a little after midnight, there was a glowing, cigar-shaped object that appeared just below the surface of the lake and slowly glided parallel to the shore. Sheriff Lazenby instructed Kenny and the other deputy, Garrett Fixmuller, to go take a closer look while he stayed behind to guard the toilet paper. Reluctantly, the deputies complied and headed towards the UFO (unidentified floating object) with guns drawn and hearts pounding.
Suddenly, the glowing lake monster surfaced with a loud splash in front of them. Then the top of the creature’s light-green skin opened up and a pale head with bulging eyes emerged from the gaping hole. “Hey, fellas!” the hideous beast-head exclaimed. “What are y’all doing here?”
What transpired next is just a blur for the particpants involved. Garrett remembers Kenny screaming like a girl as Garrett ran back into the woods, but Kenny denies this. All Kenny remembers is firing off three rounds at the monster and seeing its ugly head retracting into its body as the bullets ricocheted off the creature’s hind quarters in a flash of sparks.
About this time, Sheriff Lazenby rushed out of the woods and grabbed Kenny’s gun. “Don’t kill the varmint, Kenny!” the sheriff ordered as he wrestled his deputy to the ground. “We can capture it alive and sell it for millions to Ripley’s Believe It or Not!”
But Sheriff Lazenby’s dream of freak show riches was soon shattered. “Don’t shoot!” a voice frantically shouted from inside the lake monster’s body. “It’s me! Merle! Merle Coffey! Hold your fire!”
Stunned, Sheriff Lazenby aimed his flashlight at the water creature as it bobbed upon the lazy waves of the lake. It wasn’t a prehistoric fish after all. It appeared to be an old, seven-foot long propane tank covered in light green paint and sporting a short tower welded on top. Slowly, a figure emerged through a hatch door and raised his arms in surrender. It was Merle Coffey, all right, wearing a pair of motorcycle goggles, holding a Coleman electric lantern, and looking sheet-white and shaken. “What in tarnation are you fellas doing? Tryin’ to ventilate me?!” he asked out of breath, but none the less ticked off.
The three officers stood on the shore with their mouths opened wide enough to catch dragonflies. “Well, butter my toast, Sheriff,” Kenny exclaimed. “It’s a hoax!”
Except it wasn’t a hoax at all.
A few weeks ago, Merle Coffey, local inventor and League fellow, had been challenged by his agnostic neighbor, Jim Bob Melton, to explain how the prophet Jonah could have possibly survived three days in the belly of a fish. Realizing, of course, that a skeptic like Jim Bob wouldn’t be satisfied with a simple answer pertaining to God’s miraculous power over His creation, Merle felt his only alternative was to build a mechanical fish that would swallow up a man for three day, spit him out alive, and hopefully, shut up Jim Bob’s mouth for good.
Over the next few weeks, much to the consternation of his wife, Merle used his family’s propane tank and other scrap metal to fashion a manmade submersible “fish” with ballast tanks, valves, tilting fins, hand-cranked screw propeller, and a conning tower with a plate glass window to see where he was going. It was a marvel of rural-based technology and biblical apologetics.
When it was done, Merle kissed his wife adieu, hauled his invention to the lake with his little Ford tractor, and launched it into the “Sea of Nodaway” to prove the reality of God’s word. For over 48 hours, Merle cruised through the depths of the lake, surfacing periodically to replenish his oxygen supply, but nonetheless existing in the belly of his metal fish with only a few jugs of water and a tin of Vienna sausages. His only contact with civilization was with the use of a CB radio to keep his wife informed of his progress. It was not exactly a literal recreation of Jonah’s adventure, mind you, but it was certainly an achievement of nautical prowess that confirmed the possibility of underwater fish travel. And with only one day to go, it seemed Merle was on the verge of a successful mission.
That is, until Merle ran into a problem that the prophet Jonah never had to deal with: Kenny “Shoot First, Ask Questions Later” Tatterson. Certainly, no Ninevite was ever as dangerous as a frightened man with a gun and a nervous trigger finger.
Sheriff Lazenby immediately took Merle and his submersible contraption into custody and fined him $25 for operating a lake monster without a license. Of course, Merle wasn’t happy about it, but he reluctantly showed the officers where he stashed his tractor and lowboy in the woods so the men could load the submarine up and take it back into town. Once in Gazingstock, Sheriff Lazenby parked the submarine in front of the courthouse and invited Merle to make himself comfortable inside a jail cell until his wife could pay his fine and take him home.
Surprisingly, all was not lost for Merle. Though he fell short of completing his biblical experiment, Merle was able to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with his guard, Deputy Fixmuller, while he waited in his jail cell during the night. By God’s grace, the deputy seemed to eagerly receive the Good News and even agreed to go to church with Merle the following Sunday. Merle couldn’t help but think that, in God’s providence, he was meant to fail in his nautical pursuit for the purpose of bringing Garret Fixmuller to a knowledge of the Lord and teaching Merle that only the Holy Spirit and the Lord’s timing can bring a man to the Truth, and not the inventions of man.
Meanwhile, Sheriff Lazenby was outside the jailhouse, proudly posing for pictures next to the biggest fish that anyone in Nodaway County had ever caught. He had rousted a reporter for the Tattler out of bed at 3 AM to give him the scoop on how he had solved the Nodaway Lake mystery with his brillant crime fighting skills, catlike reflexes, and patriotic fervor. The obliging, but sleep-deprived reporter jotted down the details of the case as best he could, took a few more pictures of the hero with his catch, then headed to his typewriter to polish up the story for the morning edition. Later that day the headline would read: “Lake Mystery Solved: Coffey Keeps Sheriff Up All Night.”
As for Merle’s wife, she was surprisingly calm about having to come down to the jail to pick up her husband and use her cookie jar money to pay the $25 fine to get him out. Doris Coffey knew Merle was a godly man and she loved him dearly, but mostly she was just glad he hadn’t tried to prove the validity of Noah’s Ark.
Of course, there’s a lesson in this fish story for all of us: sometimes we all need to be reminded to look for God’s blessings in the midst of our supposed difficulties.
June30th
Originally published July 1st, 2005:
Last week, as the public sale of fireworks gained momentum in anticipation of Independence Day, the news reported that an unidentified group of teenage boys in Oklahoma had killed a litter of puppies by stuffing their mouths with fireworks and setting them off. The mother of the puppies had survived the ordeal by running from the boys’ attack, but later she was found, dazed and confused, standing over her lifeless pups and trying to nudge them awake with her nose. A very sad scene, indeed.
To me, this kind of disgusting and mindless behavior only solidifies my opinion that the general public’s current use of fireworks on the Fourth of July no longer has any real significance as a heartfelt celebration of our American liberty, but has become an excuse by many people to revel in obnoxious and violent behavior. The proud feelings of patriotism that fireworks once fostered have been relegated to a vulgar form of amusement and empty ritual. We have been seduced over time by the flash and sparkle of the pyrotechnics, and are no longer moved by the history and symbolism that once impacted our young nation, fresh from her struggles for freedom.
Sadly, I see a parallel between this activity and the way many American evangelicals today approach the Bible. Just as July fireworks have been stripped of their original purpose and significance, the Bible is no longer revered and honored as the very revelation of God Himself, but has become nothing more than an empty icon of the Christian faith to use for selfish purposes. Churches today have fashioned God’s word into a “how-to” book to help their congregation satisfy their felt needs, bring them worldly success, or make them feel good about themselves. The weightier, humbling doctrines of God’s wrath, sin and repentance that provides the pivotal framework for the true Gospel has been replaced in favor of a more feel-good, self-centered approach to utilizing Scripture. In essence, God’s Truth has become a vessel for “common” use, just as fireworks have become outlets of rage for teenage boys and immature adults.
The true patriot, however, sees fireworks, not as destructive toys, but as a symbol that celebrates our historic path of independence through the life-and-death battles of our forefathers. Likewise, true Christians must be diligent in protecting the sanctity of the Bible as God’s holy word. The Bible was not given to us as a tool for self-justification or self-improvement; it was given to us to reveal the attributes of a holy sovereign God, the sin of natural man, and the amazing grace and love of God in sending His Son to atone for the sins of His sheep in order that we might have life, and that more abundantly.
Let us not allow our society’s growing obsession with amusement and self-determination to undermine the true purpose of God’s word to humble us and bring us into submission to God’s will.
