we pray to you, O Lord.
Lord, hear our prayer.
Update Saturday morning:
Archbishop Kwashi reports: "The reports from those I have sent out to collect information are that the Muslims are attacking and burning this morning. It looks well co-ordinated. They are well armed with AK 47 and pump machine guns. This morning they have been at Dogonduste. Quite a number of Christian homes have been burnt. We do not know how many have been killed. The local government has underestimated the vehemence of the militants. At the moment this is all restricted to Jos City.
We ask prayer for knowing the right thing to do. I have moved one of our archdeacons and his family to live in our home. St Luke’s Cathedral is in the middle of the area of violence. We hope we can proceed with our normal services tomorrow."
The shrinking Episcopal Church (2.4 million members, down from 3.5 million at its peak in 1965) is a small sliver of the worldwide Anglican communion (at least 77 million and expanding rapidly). ... Today, the typical Anglican is a middle-age African woman. The burgeoning Nigerian church says it has 20 million Anglicans; Duncan believes it may have 25 million but perhaps chooses to underreport so as not to exacerbate tensions with Nigerian Muslims.
The Episcopal Church once was America's upper crust at prayer.
Today it is "progressive" politics cloaked – very thinly – in piety. Episcopalians' discontents tell a cautionary tale for political as well as religious associations. As the church's doctrines have become more elastic, the church has contracted. It celebrates an "inclusiveness" that includes fewer and fewer members.
Duncan and other protesters agree with the late Flannery O'Connor, the Catholic novelist: "You have to push as hard as the age that pushes against you."
It would be far easier to relate to our revisionist friends if they would quit the masquerade and admit honestly that they have birthed a new religion altogether. It is the misuse of the name “Christian” and “Anglican” that makes “togetherness” impossible for so many. It would be the same were a Muslim to deny Mohamed the title “prophet” and yet refuse to relinquish the descriptive self-referent “Muslim.”
...at GAFCON it is safe to say even the leadership is clueless about what to expect -- or what (if anything) will be agreed upon or acted upon by next Sunday. ...each leader has made it clear that is no formal agenda to produce a specific outcome. They stress this gathering is a time of listening....the final statement will not be written until the end of the conference (and there will be no final statement unless all the Jerusalem Pilgrims can agree on it). Secondly, for the first time the laity of the Anglican Church will have a large presence and a strong voice. There will be no action and no statement without the laity.
[I]f we're Christians we're always hearing that God loves us just the way we are, and that Jesus has paid for all our sins, so it looks like there's nothing left to do. We can spend this life watching TV. Yet we have to ask: why are our lives so tedious and uninspired? Why do we who claim to be Christian behave no better (kinder, more justly, more honestly) than those who don't? Is this whole life just waiting around to go to heaven, killing time at the mall?
When we read the New Testament it's clear that early Christians experienced something a lot more exciting than we do--something transforming, in fact. In the Bible and other early writings they describe "life in Christ" in terms that are vigorous rather than stagnant; they were being changed day by day into the likeness of his glory. The most distinctive thing about the way early Christians describe their lives is *energy*. God is at work! Look out! Amazing things are happening!
…If you want to be transformed, you'll have to change. If you're going to change, you have to admit you need to change. You have to look inside, where it's dusty and cobwebbed, and let the light start to shine in.
This is why repentance feels like a relief. It's admitting the truth about ourselves--stuff God already knows, but which we go to exhausting lengths to deny. Once it's in the open, we can deal with it, and start to see things change. We may even see miracles, even if they're just in our own behavior: more hopeful, more compassionate, less cranky. (The rest of this article is here.)
I say confession because the church teaches that we should, and I say it because, when I don't, I feel over full--not in a good, cup-overflowing way, but in a sticky, sweaty, eaten-too-much way.
Confession makes sense to me because it is incarnational. In the sacraments, the Holy Spirit uses stuff to sanctify us. In the Eucharist He uses bread and wine, and in confirmation He uses oil and in baptism He uses water. In confession, the stuff He uses is another person. In that way, confession teaches us about the Incarnation all over again. ...
Here, in confession, God is connecting us to Himself not through bread or oil or water or wine, but through another broken body, one who absolves you, and then says, "Go in peace, and pray for me, a sinner."
And let me make it quite clear that when Christians say the Christ-life is in them, they do not mean simply something mental or moral. When they speak of being 'in Christ' or of Christ being 'in them', this is not simply a way of saying that they are thinking about Christ or copying Him. They mean that Christ is actually operating through them; that the whole mass of Christians are the physical organism through which Christ acts -- that we are His fingers and muscles, the cells of His body.
And perhaps that explains one or two things. It explains why this new life is spread not only by purely mental acts like belief, but by bodily acts like baptism and Holy Communion. It is not merely the spreading of an idea; it is more like evolution -- a biological or super biological fact. There is no good trying to be more spiritual than God. God never meant man to be a purely spiritual creature. That is why He uses material things like bread and wine to put the new life into us. We may think this rather crude and unspiritual. God does not: He invented eating. He likes matter. He invented it.
There is clearly a theological defense for [devotions to saints]; if you can ask for the prayers for the living, why should you not ask for the prayers for the dead? There is clearly also a great danger... The consoling thing is that while Christendom is divided about the rationality, and even the lawfulness, of praying to the saints, we are all agreed about praying with them. (from Letters to Malcolm)