wheelermacpherson

Between the Blue Moon and the Red Sun

In Uncategorized on August 3, 2012 at 2:34 am

My friend Krueg wrote to me recently, and one of his observations arrested my attention:

“The wheat primarily grown here is ripening. My distaste for industrial agriculture aside, I can’t help but marvel at it.”

That’s a very insightful observation. It reminded me of my own feelings about the institutionalized church, or “Professional Judeoxtianity,” as I think of it. Like industrial agriculture, the institutionalized church today harms the very environment it purports to cherish. It’s enormous and sweeping in its grandeur. Lots of money and ambition. There are organizations and expensive machinery to support its role, and anyone who disagrees with the juggernaut of The Way Things Are is laughed to scorn, then harrassed, then outcast.

But when the outcast walks away with his hoe on his shoulder and quietly tends his little plot of good soil, has the regimented giant won?  Who is in the healthier position?

The Grange isn’t what it once was.

***

We’ll be celebrating the Lord’s Supper this coming Sunday at my little congregation, the congregation which I’ll be leaving soon. One wit has observed that the postmodern observation of this “meal” is more like “The Lord’s Snack” with it’s bite of bread and sip of wine (or worse, sugary grape juice). My own term for the funereal, joyless rite is Lord’oeuvres (pronounced “Lord-ervs“). I claim full original credit for this sarcastic moniker.

I talked tonight with one of the other elders, and he expressed his sadness over my decision. Did I imagine it, or was there also a bit of wistfulness, of envy, in his words?

I love these simple country folk, but we don’t speak the same language. They want to get everyone saved. I want to talk about my Father and what His word really says. They want activities and committees and mission statements. I want prayer and burning, intimate conversations and liberty. They want a program and I want edification. The time for my leaving is at hand, and what shall I say? Whatever it is, I will say it with a Southern accent and they will respond in kind. And that will keep my love for them alive long after we stop “fellowshipping” with the backs of each others’ heads from a padded pew in a female-dominated, brightly-lit “sanctuary.”

***

Speaking of the South, here’s loveliness for your ears.

And here’s another. (Mrs. MacP and I were there when this was recorded…)

***

An update on the crows I feed every mid-day in the parking lot at my job…

Dinner Bucket and Dinner Belle have been joined by two smaller crows. I’m assuming they are the DB family’s progeny. They all arrive together with loud “caws” after I put their bread on the pavement, and they fly away together with beaks crammed with food. A dear sister helped me name Dinner Bucket’s mate…would anyone care to name the two little crows? Perhaps a DB continuation? Hmm?

***

I’m hoping to pretty up this blog in the coming days, perhaps adding a page or two and making it a little more eye-friendly. My problem is lack of knowledge of how WordPress works. I know, I know…they have tutorials. But as the little Jew who pollutes the “Comments” section over at SpiritWaterBlood keeps reminding me, I’m just not that intelligent.

***

One more musical interlude. I love the poignant line that goes, “My children speak in accents not like mine.”

***

Some mornings when I walk outside to rouse and feed my hens, I am so overwhelmed with the beauty of the hour that I simply stand and stare for a while. Oh, for years and years of endless mornings, with the energy to do all the chores and then go looking for more. Oh, for soft chairs and piles of books and gallons of tea and no hornets or mosquitos. Oh, for quiet breezes and fast-moving clouds and eyes that never grow grainy and grandchildren that never sass and dogs that never bite the barn cat and chickens that never grow weary and die. Oh, for a quiet season to meditate and an energetic season to process the meditation and a focused month to write, write, write against the carpal tunnel and the arthritis and the stiff shoulders and the knowledge that I still have so far to go in my soul’s reach for Abba, even though He has loved me and held me since before the hour when the galaxies were new and hot. Oh, for mothers that evade Alzheimer’s and “friends” that never grow cold and stop writing. Oh, for grace and peace. The grace I have. The peace I will have one day. Until then, I have enough, and I am a contented man.

Grace and peace to you tonight, my friends.

~ Wheeler

  1. [...] Wheeler calls the paltry communion of crackers and grape juice at most churches “Lord’oeuvres.” [...]

  2. Wheeler, I pray that you and yours will continue to live for Christ. Let not the likes of Petr get you down. I thought you were overreacting to him but I was wrong. His true colours are for all to see.

    Does He not chastise us as sons? Truly he does. Be encouraged.

    • Marlon, thank you for stopping by and commenting. Let me assure you that I’m not in the least discouraged. The little exchange with Petr was deliberate on my part, for reasons that some may perhaps miss. I’ve been accused of overreacting with him before, and I just shrug and continue to march. The easiest way to ascertain why I’m doing something is to simply ask me.

      For the record, I don’t feel chastised in the least. I am greatly blessed, as are all who are persecuted for telling His truth.

      Again, thanks for stopping by.

  3. Mr. MacPherson,

    I was really in trouble today at church. As I was handed my dry, tasteless cracker and my small sip of grape juice, I couldn’t help but hear the word “Lord’oeuvres (pronounced “Lord-ervs“)” over and over again in my head. (I don’t think anyone heard my snickering….)

    What is wrong with a full loaf of bread and a frothy cup of (gasp!) real wine? This leads me to a question – have you ever performed the Lord’s Supper on your own with family and/or friends?

    • Glad I could provide you with some levity, Keith…there’s a lot of funny stuff going on in churches if we look for it…

      To answer your question, no, I have not administered the Lord’s Supper with my own family…YET. That day is coming very soon. I’m not at all hesitant about it. The Reformed folk like to throw around big buzzwords; they should pay careful attention to “sacerdotalism.” That’s what the current practice is, and a husband/father, as head of the house, is not obligated to let some professional seminary-grad stranger come in and act as High Priest between him and his family.

      Thank you for reading and commenting, by the way.

  4. Mr. MacPherson,
    Thank you for another encouraging, thought-provoking, humourous, beautifully-written blog. You have a gift from God for writing “on paper” the thoughts that I (and many more) think. I thought of your term “Lord’oeuvres” when we partook of the piece of hardtack and bit of grape juice at “The Lord’s Supper” this morning at our multi-culti, mixed-race couples, church. However, the music at our Independent Baptist church is traditional, as is the dress, and as long as my husband (who is in the middle stages of Alzheimer’s) wants to and is able to go to Sunday School and church, it is there we will be. We left the Southern Baptist craziness over 13 years ago when we couldn’t take the rock ‘n roll music and very casual dress that had begun making inroads over the last couple of years we were there.

    Oh how my heart longs for fellowship with like-minded believers and the things you describe in your paragraph which begins, “I love these simple country folk, but we don’t speak the same language.”

    But thank God for health, and strength, and country quiet, and my sweetheart. For our five chickens who provide us and others with those beautiful and tasty fresh eggs. For our children and wee granddaughter. For His omnipresence and wisdom and mercy and strength for each day. For eyes to read His word. And for showing me that there are people who think much like me on several very important issues. Thinking that is not mainstream nor popular these days, especially in “Christian” circles.

    Enough of this blathering. God bless you and Mrs. MacP this Sunday evening.
    Gratefully,
    Lynne Neal

    • May the Lord bless you, Mrs. Neal, for your kind and beautifully-written words here. I cannot tell you how much this meant to me.

      It IS encouraging, isn’t it, when we find the rare person who shares some of out outlook? We are so few, and so scattered, and we must be so careful. I’m sure the early Christians in the catacombs and shivering on the moors could have related.

      Thank you again for your encouragement. Mrs. MacP and I will be praying regularly for your dear husband, and for our Father to grant you grace during this trial to which He has called you both. May He bless you richly today, and lead you in His paths.

      ~ Wheeler

  5. “In the world but not of the world…”, and your wishes are mine as well.

    Recently we had some “city folk” visit us from 1200 miles east of here, Nebraskans from the capital city named after the nations single greatest mass murder. The “head of household” who reigns supreme over that family, a family with the most disobedient and disrespectful children I have ever met, ventured up to the chicken house one day while his offspring were driving my wife to the point of insanity while she patiently tried to milk a goat.

    We have an old hen turkey who has been around for 9 or 10 years, who, after her Tom perished early in life due to “death by coyote”, would go off and hide and lay a clutch every spring as was her desire. She would then sit on her nest full of unfertilized eggs for a couple months, attempting in vain to become more than just a hen, but a mother, fulfilling the role for which God created her.

    In this process of trying to do the impossible she managed to get some disease that rotted off one of her feet, and after such I almost put her to a merciful end. But much to my surprise she recovered her health and for a number of years has managed to get around rather well, hopping from place to place on her stump. She’s a nice turkey and always has been, one of those who in her youth would follow the young un’s around on their ambling’s and now as always, bends down when you approach and waits for you to come and pet her.

    This city creature saw her and began to laugh as she worked her way through the flock of chickens and came over to greet me one morning, saying “What’s with the turkey? Why don’t you kill her?”

    I glanced over at him overwhelmed with absolute distain as the ceaseless shrieking of his unruly children shattered the silence of an otherwise beautiful morning, saying, “Aha, you wish for me to kill the widows.”

    We are not the most efficient when it comes to our livestock, for we keep hens around whose best laying days are well behind them as well as the occasional crippled turkey. We had a mule for years who was well past any practical usefulness, he being so old we are certain he voted for Nixon in ’68. When he passed away several Septembers ago, we lamented his death.

    These Nebraskan’s are and will always remain “Wal-Mart people”, their children walk around adorned with latest in “Hanna Montana” clothing and acting just like her, and never ceasing in their endless demands. The lot of them can never be pleased and it was a relief to see them go. Best yet, it was a relief to tell them they are no longer welcome here. They are representative of what you are leaving, for little different than those in Churchianity, they do not wish to learn. Rather, they wish to be pleased and entertained regardless of the cost and discomfort to those around them.

    They are perpetual infants in every sense.

    May the Lord bless you and yours…

  6. Wheeler,
    After having providentially stumbled across your blog recently, I feel compelled to commend you for it, especially this latest post because it raises many concerns that have been creeping into my mind over the last several months. I am still trying to wrap my mind around some of your beliefs (as well as those of our ancestors), but perhaps it is a matter of my mind catching up with what strikes to be true in my heart. In the words of Socrates’ interlocutor Euthyphro, truly my soul and my lips are numb.

    Thank you for your post and linking to the beautiful music. Perhaps you may find this song by the lovely Julie Fowlis as arresting as I do.
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=6qWWgntTdO0

    Enjoy your hens and keep up the good writing sir.

    Grace and Peace to you,
    Mason in Alabama

    • Mason, I’m very grateful that you found this blog, and especially grateful that you took the time to write. It was a pleasure to read your eloquent words; you truly encouraged me today.

      And many thanks for the lovely music. I hope all who read these comments will link over and listen to Miss Fowlis.

      I hope you stop by often. God’s blessings to you and your house, sir.

  7. Good morning Wheels.

    Your pulling out of churchianity is depicted symbolically in Rev. 12:5, where the manchild – as opposed to the womanchild he is born from – is born and the dragon tries to swallow him up, but he is caught up to God and to His throne.. The woman is the “church” which gives birth to sons who become adults as opposed to the children who remain in mommyism=churchianity.

    They/she as the dragon try to keep you “on the earth” so to speak. That is, their efforts to convince you to stay in the system – “on the earth”- is the adversary speaking through them.

    Being caught up to God and to His throne is the process of becoming a spiritual adult. “When I became a man, I put away childish things. In childhood we see “in part”, but when we become adults, we know even as we are known.

    Regards.

    • Hey, brother…thank you for stopping by. What you wrote is so interesting, because just yesterday I was musing to Mrs. MacP that one purpose of the modern judeoxtian “church” is to keep people perpetual infants in a spiritual sense. They don’t WANT people to become mature, because such maturity always renders the “authority figure(s) obsolete and irrelevant. The entire organized church system exists to do one thing: support the pastor (financially, emotionally, professionally, you name it). And thank you very much for sharing your insights on Scripture.

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