No, not one.

When a man he serves the Lord, it makes his life worthwhile.
It don’t matter ’bout his position, it don’t matter ’bout his lifestyle.
Talk about perfection, I ain’t never seen none
And there ain’t no man righteous, no not one.

-Bob Dylan, Ain’t No Man Righteous (No Not One)

I’ve come to the realization that my health problems have more to do with stress than any medical condition, as it seems whenever things pile up on me, I get nailed with something. Two weeks ago, it was a horrible flu. This week, it was a series of migraines that somehow turned into a bout of strep throat (can’t figure that out at all), leaving me seriously behind in my schoolwork, such that I’m more than a little frightened. It’s possible that God is chastising me for being the procrastinator that I am, and I’m sure that’s a part of it. Moreover, perhaps he’s laying me low so that I am forced to depend on His help. It drives me nuts that I’m so obtuse, and require that kind of correction on a regular basis. You’d think that after being dragged kicking & screaming out of atheism into God’s presence, and pursuing fairly comprehensive theological studies on my own, at least I would be convinced of the necessity of depending wholly on God in all things.

As Paul and Bob point out, there’s no one righteous. No, not one. That includes yours truly. I can intellectually know a lot about God, and yet still completely miss the point – which I do with some degree of frequency. Whatchya gonna do, eh? You can either shrug your shoulders and keep walking the same road of sorrows, or you can throw yourself at the feet of the King and cry out for mercy and pardon. I’m pretty adept at the former, but healing only comes through the latter. Walking that rocky road has left my feet calloused and sore. I think I’ll spend some time on my knees, instead.

The Fullness of the Blessing

That’s the title of the message that I intend to bring to the Woodville and Billtown Baptist churches this coming Lord’s day, based on Paul’s hope expressed in Romans 15:18-33.  Since this will be my first time bringing a full message to any congregation, I beg your prayers that His word will satisfy and quench all thirst, despite being poured from such a cracked and damaged vessel as yours truly.

Speaking of cracked and damaged, I’m wearing a ball-cap with the logo of my favourite baseball team for the second day in a row.  So what? you might ask.  Well, let’s just say, they’re not everyone’s favourite team.  I admit that cheering for this team is very much like cheering for a one-legged puppy in a dog race.  You gotta admire him just for managing to scrape himself onto the track, but you still feel sorry for him.  From their founding in ‘62, they were known as ‘the loveable losers’ who attracted the same audience that the Three Stooges enjoyed, but all that changed with their first series victory in 1969.  Well… it changed for a the year 1969 anyway.  They swiftly returned to their full time job entertaining onlookers with their seemingly unwavering ability to lose to anyone – even the Cubs.

Yet, when I was 14 years old during my first school year after moving from Ontario to Nova Scotia, I watched a World Series that changed my life, and gave me a real appreciation for the game of baseball.  In 1986, overcoming all odds and predictions, the New York Mets became World Series Champions for the second time in their history.  The ‘86 Series made a Mets fan out of me (with a healthy case of Mookie-madness) which usually carries with it a substantial amount of ribbing and reproach, but I think most folks will agree that they’re current performance is deserving of a little pride.  They’re the National League leaders at the moment, still riding high on an amazing game this past Sunday that saw two (not one, but TWO) grand slams in a single inning, giving way to an 11-run 6th, for a 13-7 victory over the Cubbies.

What more can be said but…

New Life

Jesus told Nicodemus that no one would see the Kingdom of God unless he is born again. (John 3:3-8).  He told his disciples that they must become like little children (Matthew 18:2-6).  Peter advises new believers to crave “spiritual milk” like newborn babies (1 Peter 2:2).  One of the reasons for this comparison is that there is certainly no denying that the light of life in a newborn child is unquestionably miraculous and undoubtedly a gift of God.

All of creation groans in it’s present sufferings, and yet God manifests miracles in our midst every day.  On that note, praise Him for the gift He’s given my friends, Serena and Dana, by blessing them with new life.  Jonathan Douglas came into the world on June 3, and while I’m of the mind that newborns aren’t particularly attractive, this little guy is already bound to be a heart-breaker.  Here’s some pics Serena sent us (click for a larger image):

Congratulations Dana and Serena, and may your lives as parents be one blessing after another.  You’re a lucky kid, Jonathan!

pray for peace

Brothers and sisters, pray for the families of Harmeet Singh Sooden, James Loney, Norman Kember and Tom Fox. Today is the second deadline offered by the kidnappers, threatening their execution. Many speculate that the original video of the hostages (click here to view – viewer discretion advised) was an attempt to differentiate between the two Canadian hostages (Singh Sooden & Loney) who are depicted sitting in regular clothes, eating sweets, while the British and American hostages (Kember & Fox) are depicted in orange jumpsuits and bound. The second hostage video (click here to view – viewer discretion advised) doesn’t depict the Canadians at all. What does it mean? I don’t know, but please… pray for these individuals and their families.

I have no doubts that the kidnappers believe they are an occupied nation attempting to drive out foreign armies in the only way they feel they have power. They can’t win a ground war directly against coalition forces – they know that – so they’re using psychological warfare. You can kill 100 soldiers with a bomb, and they’ll just send more forces. By using this method, they increase pressure on occupying forces, further reduce support for the occupation, and discourage foreigners from entering the fray. Worst of all, they have nothing to lose. There’s no reason to stop. It’s cheap, it’s effective, it requires little manpower, and little risk. Even if coalition forces assign multiple bodyguards to all foreigners, they still win by thinning the occupying army making it harder for them to offer a organized assault.

May God help us all. I don’t know how anyone can win this war. All wars, without exception, end only when one side surrenders. In this situation, I don’t think either side will, and the insurgent side seems to make little sense anyway. How does it serve you to blow up your own people, in your own buildings? How can you possibly win back a country that way? Pray for everyone over there, from every nation, and of every religion. Remember that just because your a Canadian card-carrying member of “Greenpeace” doesn’t make you “more savable” or more deserving of God’s mercy. So don’t pray one-sidedly. As Paul said, speaking to a church persecuted by authority figures, “I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone — for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.”

don’t touch the mike

At New Minas Baptist, when I was baptized and involved in the baptism of others, they always tell us not to touch the microphone. After reading this report I now understand why. Remember that family and University Baptist Church (Waco, Texas) in your prayers.

Thanks to Allison Kirkbride, my dear brother, for the link.

refreshing

Now that all the horrified paperwork is out of the way, for the most part, I can’t get over how relaxed I feel about everything, and how I’m not lacking in the energy to actually do it. For me, that’s the number one indication that I’m where the Holy Spirit has directed me to be. When I go someplace that He doesn’t want me to be, I get drained, exhausted, and generally depressed. When I willingly go where He directs me, however, I find that no matter how demanding it may be, God is faithful, and grants me the energy to accomplish what needs to be done. That doesn’t negate the fact that sometimes I go where He sends me moping and dragging my feet, throught procrastination or not giving it my 100% preparatory effort. Thankfully, God is more faithful than I.

My weekly schedule is quite unbalanced, but I’m sure that’s because the Lord is aware of my tendancy to procrastinate, and he’s granting me a little grace in that regard. Mondays and Tuesdays are going to be rough. I have classes throughout the day, and then an evening class from 6:30pm to 10pm both nights. Psych, Greek and Christian Education are not exactly the fluffiest courses to deal with on a Monday. Wednesdays are relatively light, but because of scheduling issues, I’m in a position where I’ll have to leave chapel early, and huff across campus to my psych class and lab. I think God’s telling me to lose a few pounds.

Thursdays are light, and Fridays are clear except for chapel in the morning. This allows me to go into work on Fridays and maintain the personal collaberation that my boss was looking for. In other personal matters, I’ve done pretty much all I can do at present in working towards reconcilliation. I’ve confessed my sins (to both God and the offended), begged forgiveness, and refused utterly to speak wickedly of anyone. I’ve been openly transparent with my elders that they might help nurture a healing spirit. I’ve not accused, but confessed my own transgressions. Outside of that, I don’t know what more I can immediately do. I’m being advised to just be patient, and allow God to make things happen. That’s not something I’m very good at, but I’m trying hard to follow that counsel.

Keep us in prayer, folks. There’s lot of stuff behind us now, but lots more stuff ahead. Praise His glorious name that He’s carrying us through it all.

on my knees

WARNING: Extreme bluntness ahead (Kids, you should probably go read something else…

For the very first time in my Christian life, I’ve kneeled at the edge of my bed and prayed. I’ve seen kids do that on TV, but I’ve never done it myself. First time for everything. But for the second time in my life, I’ve thrown myself in tears at the mercy of our God. The last time was for something relatively minor… smoking. In tears, I begged Him to break me of that addiction, and break me He did.

I need to be broken again. Re-broken. Smashed into peices and remade.

This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the LORD: “Go down to the potter’s house, and there I will give you my message.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. Then the word of the LORD came to me: “O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter does?” declares the LORD. “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel. ” (Jeremiah 18:1-6 )

I’ve treated the throne of our God like a toilet. I’ve spat upon the Son mores times than is healthy for me to recall. I’ve done everything I could to poison myself so I could vomit the Spirit, and expel Him from my person.

Lord, break me! Please! Tear me apart! Rip this weak flesh from my bones, and give me something better. Let me wear the robe of Christ. Let me know what it is to be your Son! You’ve laid a dinner table before me, and I keep running off to the pig-trough instead. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! Why would I eat with the pigs?! Why would I envy their meal?

I am not who I should be. God help me.

an open letter to one I have wronged

I was not raised in a Christian home. I do not come from a “good, church-going family” and I was never taught the fundamentals of the faith. My only concept of “absolute moral standards” were based on a love of family. If it hurt my family, then it was wrong. If it was of benefit to my family, then it was right. Friends were expendable. Co-workers were tools. And strangers were more or less worthless.

One could offer that information as an excuse for past wrongs, but I do not. Every wrong I’ve ever committed found it’s origin in my own sinful desires. It wasn’t as though I didn’t know God existed – I rejected Him, hated Him, and every wrong I’ve ever committed was me spitting in His face, screaming “You’re not the boss of me!”

So, a situation has recently arisen where I’ve been placed in a situation that I have direct contact with someone I have wronged. I could make excuses, and say it wasn’t my fault… I was just along for the ride, but that would be a lie. In this particular situation, there are only two possible understandings of my role. Either I was a home-wrecker, or I was an opportunistic weasel. Either way, I became involved with someone just as another relationship was coming to a close. There was not even an opportunity for reconciliation while I stood in the way. Therefore, I was an object of pain, of hatred.

Pain like that doesn’t just dry up with time. It always leaves a tender sting. So now, as we are entering circumstances where I will have some form of contact with this individual no matter what, I see that the pain still lingers, and I continue to be the object of animosity.

So, to that individual (they know who they are): I humbly, and earnestly beg your forgiveness. I humble myself before you, without justification, without excuses. I have wronged you. I didn’t always understand that, but I understand it now. God has shown me my own wickedness, and I confess that sin to you and cry your pardon. My Lord and God demands that I respect the honor due you, and hold it in extremely high regard. I pray for you every day, for all those involved in these circumstances. I am not your adversary, but your advocate. I speak often of the how vital you are, how utterly essential your role is. I do not seek to usurp you, but to encourage you. While my highest concern is always for an individual’s walk with Christ Jesus, please understand that this is not in spite of you, but that you are a God ordained part of that walk. You are under no obligation to forgive me my trespasses, but I seek your pardon only that I might help strengthen your relationship with your child.

In the end, however, I am like Job as he stood before the Lord’s piercing questions. “Behold! I am insignificant! What can I reply to You? I lay my hand on my mouth. Once I have spoken, and I will not answer; Even twice, and I will add nothing more.” (Job 40:4-5)

i read the mail today, oh boy…

After years of struggling against this course of action, after looking for every excuse I could possibly manufacture, only to have them blow up in my face. After procrastinating as much as humanly possible even after I allegedly surrendered, the following letter arrived today…

Dear Mr Freckelton:

I am pleased to offer you full admission to the three-year (90-hour) Bachelor of Theology degree program at Acadia Divinity College beginning in September 2005. Acadia University is recognized for providing a leading… blah… blah… blah…

Brothers, sisters and my family abroad. Pray for me. I don’t know where this is going, but pray He’ll grant me the strength to take each step, the courage to make each step count, and the faith to trust Him with the details. I’m a 30-something ex-athiest going back to school without the slightest idea how I’ll get the money or the time. Please pray for me.

sometimes I fear, maybe…

Jesus went up on a mountainside and called to him those he wanted, and they came to him. He appointed twelve– designating them apostles–that they might be with him and that he might send them out to preach and to have authority to drive out demons. These are the twelve he appointed: Simon (to whom he gave the name Peter); James son of Zebedee and his brother John (to them he gave the name Boanerges, which means Sons of Thunder); Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James son of Alphaeus, Thaddaeus, Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.

(Mark 3:13-19 )

I was asked to read this portion of Scripture this morning in the service. It’s the first time I’ve ever been asked to do anything before the congregation (other than being baptized) on a Sunday morning, so I’m a little nervous. I’ve stood as a teacher in front of every single age-group in my fellowship (except the nursery – I should go play around in there sometime), but it still gives me the jibblies when I have to stand in front of so many people.

Today’s verse also makes me nervous, but not in a stage-fright sort of way. There’s a Caedmon’s Call song that I can very much relate to. The first verses always tug at my heart, because it’s as though they were reading my mind…

Sometimes I fear
Maybe I’m not chosen
You’ve hardened my heart like Pharaoh
And that would explain why
Life is so hard for me
And I am sad that Esau hated
Crying against what’s faded
Saying, “Father, please…
Is there any left for me?”

Caedmon’s Call, “Prove Me Wrong”

So too, we see in these verses that Jesus “called to him those he wanted, and they came to him.” One of the ones he wanted, and who came, was Judas. We all can relate to one or more of the apostles, because they were human beings just like us. I believe Jesus chose those he did partially because He knew that part of their ministry would be to people that we could understand and relate to. While I’ve always related to Peter (because he had a big mouth) and Paul (because of his sudden conversion), the enemy sometimes whispers to me, “You’re no Peter, and definitely not a Paul… but take heart. Perhaps you are a Judas.”

What if I am? What if I am a chosen betrayer? What if the sins that plague me should swallow me, and make me more like the enemy than Jesus? Ah, but that is the game the enemy plays. To lie, to accuse. The enemy condemns us, but it is God who justifies. The very fact that I should struggle with doubt only makes it more clear to me who I really belong to. Jesus Christ, son of God, savior. He didn’t stand at my knob-less door and knock. No… he’s not some wimpy door-to-door salesman.

Instead, He smashed my door to splinters, and walked unharmed by the poisonous smoke, and the licking flames. My house was burning to ashes, and I merrily sat in the midst of it, breath held and arms crossed, saying “I don’t need any help!” Christ didn’t care about my objections. His strong arms simply scooped me up, and He carried me out of the crumbling holocaust that was my home. And even now, as I stand beside Him, watching the flames consume the remaining structure, I still sometimes look to Him and say, “I have to go back in for a little while… I think I forgot something.”

Burn, baby, burn. Leave nothing for me to go back to. Spirit, take the desire to wallow in the hot ashes away from me. Father, let me be content to live in Your house, where Your Son has prepared a place for me. Help me to not be a vagabond, but a simple traveler on his way home.