Musings afire, afoot, and abroad….
If Christians have learned anything about living in a heathen culture, it is the ancient lesson that Christian victory is grounded in sacrifice, not coercive might. That lesson was refreshed a few days ago when we watched A Hidden Life which recounts the life and death of Austrian farmer Franz Jägerstätter, executed in 1943 after... Continue Reading →
We Anglicans are creatures of habit; a point brought home to me a few days ago when Canon Dart mentioned a particular parishioner to me, identifying him as “sitting on the Gospel side.” I suspect that had I asked, he could have told me which row and what side of the pew that gentleman occupied... Continue Reading →
Isaiah 53:4-5: “ Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.” When the rumble... Continue Reading →
Prologue: This was written in the winter of 1994, the last year that I fought fire with the USFS, and a year that devastated the wildfire community: The South Canyon fire swallowed 14 in one hellish inferno, including my friend Don Mackey. Our Silver City helitack ship went down claiming three more, including my secretary's nephew,... Continue Reading →
Crucifix. Crucifixion. We contemplate the former to understand the latter. And for me there is always a crucifix; the vision of a limp silver chain slack across a dying man's chest; sweat sticking that crucifix to that dying man’s body. Back in the day, I kept a "catharsis journal;" a smattering of notes-to-self I secreted away, hoping... Continue Reading →
"But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed." A good many years ago, my dad recruited—or perhaps more accurately, drafted me for some home improvement project he had started. All that I recall now of... Continue Reading →
"As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more." A while back at 9,000 feet above sea level on the side of the San Francisco Peaks, I renewed an... Continue Reading →
It was almost an afterthought, as we parted with a newfound friend, the director of the Second Cavalry’s museum in Vilseck, Germany: “Long as you’re headed that way, you could go through Flossenbürg,” he said. “Yes, you can walk it in a half hour or so....” chimed in his colleague. Good enough, we thought, and... Continue Reading →
Westwander 