It’s with great joy that I read today of the The Rev Dr Peter Mullen’s proposal that Homosexuals be tattooed with some sort of indentifying mark.
I’ve long thought there must be a better way of determining if the gentleman standing next to one at a public urinal is just shaking off the last few remaining drops, or is indeed pleased to meet a greatly endowed man of the cloth, and a nice clear tattoo would be a wonderful way of settling doubts without the need for any embarrassing questions, which always involve the risk of receiving a shocked answer in the negative.
The one problem with this suggestion is, of course, that the Bible strictly prohibits tattoos, but since the tattoo would only being applied to Sinners, and often against their will, I’m sure the Holy Spirit would be only too happy to grant us a little wriggle-room here. Besides, think of the time one would save when casually taking the dog out for an evening walk in order to meet an “acquaintance”, or while looking for a decent interior decorator.
Sadly it appears that Fr. Mullen, who as Church of England Chaplain to the London Stock Exchange is blessed to minister in a place untroubled by immorality or avarice, has succumbed to Apostate Liberal pressure to remove the blog upon which he made his excellent suggestion - http://petermullen.typepad.com/ is currently not working, although thanks to the miracle of Google caching his teaching can still be seen here. Scroll down a bit to the section headed “Matthew Parris” and you can see why Mad Priest is tipping Fr. Mullen as the next Bishop of Carlisle. Either that or he’s a shoo-in for Nigerian Inspector-General of Prisons.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
GAFCON Secrets
Unfortunately St. Onuphrius’ bid to become the global center of an international Stytlite Revival has taken a bit of a tumble, since we’ve had to bring Evangelical Eric down from his ladder in the Manse garden.
Following the very good advice from our virtual parishioner Two Cents, Brother Richthofen and his friends from Seminary decided to help him through the yesterday evening’s chill by lighting a gentle warming fire at the base of his ladder, but being relatively inexperienced in such matters the lads neglected to see that Eric’s ladder was itself wooden, and the spreading flames begun causing our pioneer evangelical pillar-saint some distress. Things could still have been resolved with a garden hose at this point, but instead Bishop Quinine attempted to douse the flames by casting the contents of his drinking flask upon them. Regrettably moonshine is a far from optimal substance when it comes to extinguishing fires.
All well that end’s well, however, since the resulting fireball simply burned through one of the legs of our Curate’s ladder, causing it to collapse, and in so doing catapult him far from harm’s way. In the aftermath of all this excitement I instructed Brother Richthofen and his friends to give him a good bath, haircut and shave, and then tuck him into bed to sleep off the shock. Naturally the cost of replacing our parish ladder will have to be deducted from Eric's stipend, but this shouldn’t take him more than a few months to pay off.
If only sorting out exactly what’s going on with the other GAFCON was just as simple. Their site at www.gafcon.org was down for most of the past week, and has only reapeared within the last few hours. Perhaps it was just being transferred it to a new home on little Peter Jensen’s servers, but if this is the case they certainly made no attempt while they were effecting the change to update the site to inform readers of the latest exciting GAFCON developments.
Which is a shame, because if the Ugandan government-owned newspaper New Vision can be trusted (and I recognize that’s a big if) 39 GAFCON bishops wound up a key planning meeting on September 30 - an event you currently won’t find a mention of on the GAFCON site.
Held in Mukono Uganda, the meeting allegedly attracted clergy from around the world, including North America, Great Britain, Australia, and (of course) Nigeria, the latter whom would have found the event conveniently timed as a follow-on to their own synod. My reports are that it was held as part of a growing campaign to strengthen pan-African control of GAFCON, since it’s no secret that the on-going success of Bishop Venables' North America expansion is beginning to leave ++Akinola and his Lambeth-boycotting followers nervous, and more than a little resentful.
Certainly it doesn’t appear any big names were among those westerners attending – and it is unlikely proceedings could have been kept so secretive if there had been – but neither was there any reason to invite them, since the official GAFCON vision for an “alternative” North American diocese has never included a plan to give the top-job to a faux-latin Englishman. How on earth could that occurring possibly help the vital missional imperative of channelling funds, green-cards and a near-infinite number of frequent-flyer points back to one’s extended family, cronies and pretty young “sisters” in the Lord?
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Following the very good advice from our virtual parishioner Two Cents, Brother Richthofen and his friends from Seminary decided to help him through the yesterday evening’s chill by lighting a gentle warming fire at the base of his ladder, but being relatively inexperienced in such matters the lads neglected to see that Eric’s ladder was itself wooden, and the spreading flames begun causing our pioneer evangelical pillar-saint some distress. Things could still have been resolved with a garden hose at this point, but instead Bishop Quinine attempted to douse the flames by casting the contents of his drinking flask upon them. Regrettably moonshine is a far from optimal substance when it comes to extinguishing fires.
All well that end’s well, however, since the resulting fireball simply burned through one of the legs of our Curate’s ladder, causing it to collapse, and in so doing catapult him far from harm’s way. In the aftermath of all this excitement I instructed Brother Richthofen and his friends to give him a good bath, haircut and shave, and then tuck him into bed to sleep off the shock. Naturally the cost of replacing our parish ladder will have to be deducted from Eric's stipend, but this shouldn’t take him more than a few months to pay off.
If only sorting out exactly what’s going on with the other GAFCON was just as simple. Their site at www.gafcon.org was down for most of the past week, and has only reapeared within the last few hours. Perhaps it was just being transferred it to a new home on little Peter Jensen’s servers, but if this is the case they certainly made no attempt while they were effecting the change to update the site to inform readers of the latest exciting GAFCON developments.
Which is a shame, because if the Ugandan government-owned newspaper New Vision can be trusted (and I recognize that’s a big if) 39 GAFCON bishops wound up a key planning meeting on September 30 - an event you currently won’t find a mention of on the GAFCON site.
Held in Mukono Uganda, the meeting allegedly attracted clergy from around the world, including North America, Great Britain, Australia, and (of course) Nigeria, the latter whom would have found the event conveniently timed as a follow-on to their own synod. My reports are that it was held as part of a growing campaign to strengthen pan-African control of GAFCON, since it’s no secret that the on-going success of Bishop Venables' North America expansion is beginning to leave ++Akinola and his Lambeth-boycotting followers nervous, and more than a little resentful.
Certainly it doesn’t appear any big names were among those westerners attending – and it is unlikely proceedings could have been kept so secretive if there had been – but neither was there any reason to invite them, since the official GAFCON vision for an “alternative” North American diocese has never included a plan to give the top-job to a faux-latin Englishman. How on earth could that occurring possibly help the vital missional imperative of channelling funds, green-cards and a near-infinite number of frequent-flyer points back to one’s extended family, cronies and pretty young “sisters” in the Lord?
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
More GAFCON Ethics in Action
Faithful readers will know that I watch little Peter Jensen, Archbishop of Sydney Australia, as closely as I do Bishop Quinine when he’s near the Rectory silverware, and for the same reasons. Consequently this note from a noble Australian blogger which appeared in the comments of an earlier post is especially worthy of everyone’s attention:
thugs relatives. Similarly, those Australian Anglo-Catholic Dioceses who are happily compromising everything their movement holds dear (presbyteral presidency, Catholic tradition, and liturgical sophistication to name just a few) in order to follow Sydney’s instructions in National Synod voting just happen to have avoided the establishment of one of these exciting exercises in sheep-stealing.
To be fair however, at least when the Jensen family and serfs talk about “church planting” they really are starting something new, albeit only in the same sense as introducing ticks or tapeworms into an area represents an increase in bio-diversity. In contrast, The Most Reverend Peter Jasper Akinola, DD (as he likes to be informally addressed) counts his “realigned” North American parishes as successful “missionary plants”. Which could come as a surprise to some of the antebellum Episcopal families of Fairfax Virginia, whom I suspect aren’t used to being considered as the product of anyone’s horticultural endeavors – let alone those of a petty African demi-despot who demands a reduction in the size of his country’s government, but whom from 2002 to 2007 managed to increase the size of his own administrative bureaucracy by at least 34%. Which is a pretty odd way to spend the offertory, even by my standards. Particularly in a country where poverty is endemic. Just imagine what the place would be like if they had homosexuals and women bishops as well?
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
In reports from the Standing Committee to the Sydney Diocesan Synod to be held in a few weeks time the following can be found:In bold after each “church” is the Diocese in which this “affiliate” is located, and – surprise, surprise – each happens to be somewhere well known for its readiness to stand up to little Pete and his team of
The Standing Committee had declared 6 churches to be affiliated with this Church in this Diocese under clause 4(1) of the Ordinance. As at 7 August 2008, each of these declarations remains effective. Details of these affiliations are as follows:
On 11 December 2006 the Standing Committee resolved to affiliate with the following 3 churches:
Northern Lakes Evangelical Church Newcastle Senior Pastor: The Rev Connan O'Shea
Albury Bible Fellowship Riverina Senior Pastor: The Rev Chris Little
The Point Community Church Grafton Senior Minister: The Rev Steve Covetz
On 10 December 2007 the Standing Committee resolved to affiliate with the following 2 churches:
The Lakes Evangelical Church Newcastle Senior Pastor: The Rev David Sheath
Maitland Evangelical Church Newcastle Senior Pastor: The Rev Roger Burgess
On 16 June 2008 the Standing Committee resolved to affiliate with:
Stanthorpe Evangelical Community Church Brisbane Senior Minister: The Rev Neville Heywood
To be fair however, at least when the Jensen family and serfs talk about “church planting” they really are starting something new, albeit only in the same sense as introducing ticks or tapeworms into an area represents an increase in bio-diversity. In contrast, The Most Reverend Peter Jasper Akinola, DD (as he likes to be informally addressed) counts his “realigned” North American parishes as successful “missionary plants”. Which could come as a surprise to some of the antebellum Episcopal families of Fairfax Virginia, whom I suspect aren’t used to being considered as the product of anyone’s horticultural endeavors – let alone those of a petty African demi-despot who demands a reduction in the size of his country’s government, but whom from 2002 to 2007 managed to increase the size of his own administrative bureaucracy by at least 34%. Which is a pretty odd way to spend the offertory, even by my standards. Particularly in a country where poverty is endemic. Just imagine what the place would be like if they had homosexuals and women bishops as well?
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Bishop Venables: GAFCON Ethics in Action.
Continental drift has claimed another parish: St. Aidan’s Windsor, Ontario (which is in Canada, for those of you who were home-schooled) has decided they’re part of little Greg Venables’ Southern Cone.
The manner in which this was decided stands as a beacon to responsible parish decision making: an announcement from the Diocese of Huron explains that was it the result of a vote taken by only about half of the congregation. Even more impressively, the Bishop’s two representatives were denied entry to the meeting, and refused any opportunity to present the case for doing something as outlandishly orthodox as acknowledging that an Anglican parish in the Diocese of Huron is in fact historically, logically and legally part of the Diocese of the Huron.
I’ve always said that the less informed anyone is when making a decision in my favour the better, and it’s apparent that his little Grace Venables shares this attitude. Never let your underlings find themselves bothered by facts, nor the shocking suggestion that there may well be another side to the argument. Just make sure they do what you want them to do, and then seize the spoils.
I was also please to see that both St. Aidan’s newsletter and the ANiC site have also taken steps to counter the shocking misinformation that they are opposed to women’s ordination. As they say, “the Anglican Province of the Southern Cone currently does not practice women’s ordination” but North American churches “are completely free to practice their consciences on this matter.” Unlike, of course, South American churches in the Southern Cone, who better damn well do what their Primate tells them if they value their toes and earlobes. This should end once and for all the shocking rumour that the Province of the Southern Cone expects Americans and Canadians to abide by the same rules and obligations as foreigners, when it’s so clearly obvious they’re in every way better Christians.
Besides, both sites make it clear that the Anglican Network in Canada has an extremely positive attitude to women’s ministry, stressing that “the prestigious role of assistant to Bishop Harvey” is actually held by a woman. Which ought to silence the critics for good: what could possible be more prestigious than making Bishop Harvey’s coffee, scheduling his meetings, and taking his stained vestments to the cleaners?
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
The manner in which this was decided stands as a beacon to responsible parish decision making: an announcement from the Diocese of Huron explains that was it the result of a vote taken by only about half of the congregation. Even more impressively, the Bishop’s two representatives were denied entry to the meeting, and refused any opportunity to present the case for doing something as outlandishly orthodox as acknowledging that an Anglican parish in the Diocese of Huron is in fact historically, logically and legally part of the Diocese of the Huron.
I’ve always said that the less informed anyone is when making a decision in my favour the better, and it’s apparent that his little Grace Venables shares this attitude. Never let your underlings find themselves bothered by facts, nor the shocking suggestion that there may well be another side to the argument. Just make sure they do what you want them to do, and then seize the spoils.
I was also please to see that both St. Aidan’s newsletter and the ANiC site have also taken steps to counter the shocking misinformation that they are opposed to women’s ordination. As they say, “the Anglican Province of the Southern Cone currently does not practice women’s ordination” but North American churches “are completely free to practice their consciences on this matter.” Unlike, of course, South American churches in the Southern Cone, who better damn well do what their Primate tells them if they value their toes and earlobes. This should end once and for all the shocking rumour that the Province of the Southern Cone expects Americans and Canadians to abide by the same rules and obligations as foreigners, when it’s so clearly obvious they’re in every way better Christians.
Besides, both sites make it clear that the Anglican Network in Canada has an extremely positive attitude to women’s ministry, stressing that “the prestigious role of assistant to Bishop Harvey” is actually held by a woman. Which ought to silence the critics for good: what could possible be more prestigious than making Bishop Harvey’s coffee, scheduling his meetings, and taking his stained vestments to the cleaners?
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Vale Grendel
As much as it pains me to admit it, I’m not very good at funeral orations. Partly that’s because they do not customarily include an offertory, but mainly because, like my fellow GAFCON leaders, I tend to find myself lost for words when not talking about myself and/or those with whom I disagree. Obviously this is not a weakness that has prevented me from becoming an extremely powerful figure of international renown, but the truth is that sometimes, in the still of the night, a quiet small voice reminds me of my failing, and dares to suggest it may indeed be proof that there exists those who are greater in the Kingdom of Heaven than even me.
Even more curiously, the form which I imagine that small voice as taking is invariably non-human; generally canine or feline. There’s no mystery to this: the humbling fact I have come to realise over the years is that Our Lord’s non-human children are frequently blessed with a different kind of wisdom, one which when we can dare to be honest with ourselves we ignore at our own peril. That these creatures bring us joy, companionship, laughter and messy stains which we often only learn too late are far more precious than the carpets which they have soiled is something we all know, but that they can also teach us to see God in ways that the Proud and Important like myself never can is something vital to remember. Not that I’d necessarily advise you to raise the subject when jockeying for power, position or money in your favourite ecclesiastical meeting, but don’t be ignorant of it either. One can fool one’s fellow church leaders most (if not all) of the time, but sadly not even I can fool God.
In saying all this I am avoiding the subject I most need to address, but the one which of things I would most like to not be true – that a canine beyond estimation, the Hound of Righteousness whom we knew as Grendel, has passed. He is gone, but beyond all the brouhaha of faith from which I have earned a fine penny is the Truth that he is also Not Gone, but rather just beyond the tyranny of time upon which we also find ourselves crawling, albeit only for an instant….
… there you go, just like a human I’m playing with words in order to avoid showing how I really feel. That’s a folly to which creatures like Grendel never succumb. If something’s good they’re happy, and if not they growl, and try to attack it: the one thing they never do is try to manipulate others to avoid showing how they really feel. To this end Grendel was a saint – we look at the picture below and cannot help but be drawn into his joy.
And yet this joy came in the wake of an earlier life of mistreatment. When I’m ill treated there’s no secret about the pride in which I feel at holding a grudge; surely on this basis Grendel had more than fair cause to despise our species in perpetuity. But he didn’t. On finding love he learned to respond not just with love, but also with true heartfelt joy. In so doing he lived forgiveness in a way I’m privately afraid Church Leaders like myself only feel fear at the thought of comprehending. He may not have been a little dog, but he was not a very big one, and yet he was, and in Christ is, far bigger than most of us.
Providing I don’t partake of the fruits of Bishop Qunine’s still too regularly, it will, I trust, be some time before I have the honor of meeting Grendel face to snout, but the awkward truth is that I shall, as will all of you. Personally I believe he may begin that meeting by laughing at me, for dogs and cats have a divine disrespect for the pomposity which I have found so temporally rewarding. Even so, it shall be a laughter in which my redeemed old heart shall share; again, one look at that face and I can’t say I haven’t been warned. Nor can any of us who knew him say we haven’t been blessed for doing so, or that we shan’t one day be so blessed again. Until that day may the Lord bless and keep you grace, mercy and comfort. And (& I’m only saying this because I can fear Grendel’s spirit is calling on the Lord to demand I do so) may you all be kept safe from the clutches of clergy like me. Faith involves running and laughing like a little dog – not arguing and cursing and hating. By all means growl and bite when necessary, but don’t ever become so obsessed with doing so that you forget to find joy in your gravy.
Please remember Aghaveagh and Liam in your prayers, along with all of Grendel’s family and friends.
And Be Loving. Accept Dogs. Do It Now.
He’s Grendel, and unlike most of us he really did teach the Bible. Even though he’d never read it.
Even more curiously, the form which I imagine that small voice as taking is invariably non-human; generally canine or feline. There’s no mystery to this: the humbling fact I have come to realise over the years is that Our Lord’s non-human children are frequently blessed with a different kind of wisdom, one which when we can dare to be honest with ourselves we ignore at our own peril. That these creatures bring us joy, companionship, laughter and messy stains which we often only learn too late are far more precious than the carpets which they have soiled is something we all know, but that they can also teach us to see God in ways that the Proud and Important like myself never can is something vital to remember. Not that I’d necessarily advise you to raise the subject when jockeying for power, position or money in your favourite ecclesiastical meeting, but don’t be ignorant of it either. One can fool one’s fellow church leaders most (if not all) of the time, but sadly not even I can fool God.
In saying all this I am avoiding the subject I most need to address, but the one which of things I would most like to not be true – that a canine beyond estimation, the Hound of Righteousness whom we knew as Grendel, has passed. He is gone, but beyond all the brouhaha of faith from which I have earned a fine penny is the Truth that he is also Not Gone, but rather just beyond the tyranny of time upon which we also find ourselves crawling, albeit only for an instant….
… there you go, just like a human I’m playing with words in order to avoid showing how I really feel. That’s a folly to which creatures like Grendel never succumb. If something’s good they’re happy, and if not they growl, and try to attack it: the one thing they never do is try to manipulate others to avoid showing how they really feel. To this end Grendel was a saint – we look at the picture below and cannot help but be drawn into his joy.
And yet this joy came in the wake of an earlier life of mistreatment. When I’m ill treated there’s no secret about the pride in which I feel at holding a grudge; surely on this basis Grendel had more than fair cause to despise our species in perpetuity. But he didn’t. On finding love he learned to respond not just with love, but also with true heartfelt joy. In so doing he lived forgiveness in a way I’m privately afraid Church Leaders like myself only feel fear at the thought of comprehending. He may not have been a little dog, but he was not a very big one, and yet he was, and in Christ is, far bigger than most of us.
Providing I don’t partake of the fruits of Bishop Qunine’s still too regularly, it will, I trust, be some time before I have the honor of meeting Grendel face to snout, but the awkward truth is that I shall, as will all of you. Personally I believe he may begin that meeting by laughing at me, for dogs and cats have a divine disrespect for the pomposity which I have found so temporally rewarding. Even so, it shall be a laughter in which my redeemed old heart shall share; again, one look at that face and I can’t say I haven’t been warned. Nor can any of us who knew him say we haven’t been blessed for doing so, or that we shan’t one day be so blessed again. Until that day may the Lord bless and keep you grace, mercy and comfort. And (& I’m only saying this because I can fear Grendel’s spirit is calling on the Lord to demand I do so) may you all be kept safe from the clutches of clergy like me. Faith involves running and laughing like a little dog – not arguing and cursing and hating. By all means growl and bite when necessary, but don’t ever become so obsessed with doing so that you forget to find joy in your gravy.
Please remember Aghaveagh and Liam in your prayers, along with all of Grendel’s family and friends.
And Be Loving. Accept Dogs. Do It Now.
He’s Grendel, and unlike most of us he really did teach the Bible. Even though he’d never read it.
Archbishop Akinola feels irritated and twitchy.
If, like me, you’ve noticed a temporary reduction in the number of emails coming from orphaned heiresses or the widows of senior government officers, all of whom require help in appropriating delightfully large sums of money, then here just might the explanation: last week Archbishop Peter Akinola and his retinue of lively lads were busy with the Ninth Nigerian General Synod.
Since it’s clear from the language of both his opening address and closing "pastoral letter" that for a change Big Pete wrote his own releases alone, commentators everywhere have jumped at the chance to see the great man’s mind at work without the usual veneer of coherence being added by little Minns or Jensen.
And what a great mind it is too. Father Mark Harris provides the most insightful evaluation, yet I think he, like most reviewers, misses the heart of Big Pete’s genuine concern at what he sees occurring in Western Christianity.
In the excerpt published on Father Mark’s site our favourite Archbishop mentions his distress at finding an article in Tell magazine about someone being apprehended in a London suburb whilst in the act of knowing a sheep in the Biblical sense. The image has clearly left its mark on the Nigerian Primate, as he makes mention of elsewhere, including in an interview with one of his country’s leading newspapers.
Which should hardly be a surprise to anyone: I can well relate to the distress caused by discovering the same old humdrum Sins when perusing publications in hope of broadening one’s knowledge of the wickedness in men’s heart. Whilst I’m not familiar with Tell, if as I suspect, ++Akinola was perusing an expensive top-shelf imported magazine, then the last thing he should expect to find practices with which he is already familiar.
That’s because the simple truth is that bestiality is really rather old-hat in ++Akinola’s part of the world. Back in February 2006 a butcher at the Chanchaga abattoir in Niger State was caught doing exactly the same thing as the fellow in London - Tell might well have simply plagiarised this story. I recall the matter being reported by the Nigerian Tribune in some detail, but since their online archives don’t extend that far back I can only refer readers to a copy here. Nor is this creative meat-worker the only Nigerian to have partaken of the love that dare not baa its name: Charisma reports the Nigerian Preacher T.B. Joshua miraculously delivered a man from a spirit of bestiality – although speaking personally I’d want proof before I’d let him take my aunt’s Chihuahua for a walk.
No, if Archbishop Akinola really wants to keep abreast of the latest British iniquities my recommendation is for him to leave Tell alone, and instead study Razzle and Reader’s Wives. Or, as I do when the Spirit blows from a different direction, Vulcan. Either way, I’ve no doubt the experience would leave him a lot less tense and irritable.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Since it’s clear from the language of both his opening address and closing "pastoral letter" that for a change Big Pete wrote his own releases alone, commentators everywhere have jumped at the chance to see the great man’s mind at work without the usual veneer of coherence being added by little Minns or Jensen.
And what a great mind it is too. Father Mark Harris provides the most insightful evaluation, yet I think he, like most reviewers, misses the heart of Big Pete’s genuine concern at what he sees occurring in Western Christianity.
In the excerpt published on Father Mark’s site our favourite Archbishop mentions his distress at finding an article in Tell magazine about someone being apprehended in a London suburb whilst in the act of knowing a sheep in the Biblical sense. The image has clearly left its mark on the Nigerian Primate, as he makes mention of elsewhere, including in an interview with one of his country’s leading newspapers.
Which should hardly be a surprise to anyone: I can well relate to the distress caused by discovering the same old humdrum Sins when perusing publications in hope of broadening one’s knowledge of the wickedness in men’s heart. Whilst I’m not familiar with Tell, if as I suspect, ++Akinola was perusing an expensive top-shelf imported magazine, then the last thing he should expect to find practices with which he is already familiar.
That’s because the simple truth is that bestiality is really rather old-hat in ++Akinola’s part of the world. Back in February 2006 a butcher at the Chanchaga abattoir in Niger State was caught doing exactly the same thing as the fellow in London - Tell might well have simply plagiarised this story. I recall the matter being reported by the Nigerian Tribune in some detail, but since their online archives don’t extend that far back I can only refer readers to a copy here. Nor is this creative meat-worker the only Nigerian to have partaken of the love that dare not baa its name: Charisma reports the Nigerian Preacher T.B. Joshua miraculously delivered a man from a spirit of bestiality – although speaking personally I’d want proof before I’d let him take my aunt’s Chihuahua for a walk.
No, if Archbishop Akinola really wants to keep abreast of the latest British iniquities my recommendation is for him to leave Tell alone, and instead study Razzle and Reader’s Wives. Or, as I do when the Spirit blows from a different direction, Vulcan. Either way, I’ve no doubt the experience would leave him a lot less tense and irritable.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
J.I. Packer Speaks (Isn't there a famous story about an emperor’s clothes?)
One of the most exciting things I’ve learned since our internet access was restored is that young James Innell Packer has been addressing the Anglican District of Virginia’s second conference.
Now admittedly I was initially surprised to learn the Virginians had invited J.I. to come and harangue them, since one would have thought given their alliance with Nigeria and CANA, combined with their long tradition of recognising black rights and opposing discrimination in any form, they'd have invited an African to address them, especially seeing as how countries like Nigeria and Rwanda have so much to teach us in the west about Christian compassion, love and harmony, but when I read little David Virtue’s account of the proceedings I could not help but reconsider.
In a Virtue On Line exclusive (which actually means someone persuaded the matron of the institution to which little David is currently committed that it would be reasonably safe to give him a day pass, and bought him a Greyhound ticket so that he could attend the press conference) J.I. Packer amply shows why he’s famous for writing a book often considered the Christian equivalent of the “Brief History of Time” thing that everyone bought and nobody ever actually finished reading. Except that Hawkin’s book was exciting compared to Packer’s “Knowing God”, and twenty years after it was published nobody buys it, whereas our favourite schismatic is still making so much in royalties out of his tome that even Tom Wright can’t think about the money without feeling his throat tighten.
Which is, of course, why it’s the greatest Christian book ever written, and far more authoritative than the Bible. Judging by the quotes David Virtue was able to remember from the event, young Packer hasn’t lost any of his way with words, as these gems illustrate:
"You never come to the end of the realities that Scripture presents to us. Keep learning and keep on applying what you learn to life." Which is why we know we’re correct, and that nobody outside of our schism has anything to teach us
"We are walking home to heaven." That’s why we must insist that we’re holier than everyone else; because justification by grace actually means we're doing the work ourselves, and we’ll never get there if we start worrying about the log in our own eye.
"The Archbishop of Canterbury is an honest man and by being honest he has positioned himself over a barrel…" And therein lies the problem. What the Communion needs is a dishonest Archbishop of Canterbury – and clearly J.I. Packer and his fellow neo-Nigerians know just where to find one.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Now admittedly I was initially surprised to learn the Virginians had invited J.I. to come and harangue them, since one would have thought given their alliance with Nigeria and CANA, combined with their long tradition of recognising black rights and opposing discrimination in any form, they'd have invited an African to address them, especially seeing as how countries like Nigeria and Rwanda have so much to teach us in the west about Christian compassion, love and harmony, but when I read little David Virtue’s account of the proceedings I could not help but reconsider.
In a Virtue On Line exclusive (which actually means someone persuaded the matron of the institution to which little David is currently committed that it would be reasonably safe to give him a day pass, and bought him a Greyhound ticket so that he could attend the press conference) J.I. Packer amply shows why he’s famous for writing a book often considered the Christian equivalent of the “Brief History of Time” thing that everyone bought and nobody ever actually finished reading. Except that Hawkin’s book was exciting compared to Packer’s “Knowing God”, and twenty years after it was published nobody buys it, whereas our favourite schismatic is still making so much in royalties out of his tome that even Tom Wright can’t think about the money without feeling his throat tighten.
Which is, of course, why it’s the greatest Christian book ever written, and far more authoritative than the Bible. Judging by the quotes David Virtue was able to remember from the event, young Packer hasn’t lost any of his way with words, as these gems illustrate:
"You never come to the end of the realities that Scripture presents to us. Keep learning and keep on applying what you learn to life." Which is why we know we’re correct, and that nobody outside of our schism has anything to teach us
"We are walking home to heaven." That’s why we must insist that we’re holier than everyone else; because justification by grace actually means we're doing the work ourselves, and we’ll never get there if we start worrying about the log in our own eye.
"The Archbishop of Canterbury is an honest man and by being honest he has positioned himself over a barrel…" And therein lies the problem. What the Communion needs is a dishonest Archbishop of Canterbury – and clearly J.I. Packer and his fellow neo-Nigerians know just where to find one.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
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