Humanism is dying, as we can see by its fervent embrace of such cruel follies as abortion, sexual anarchy, socialism, censorship, assisted suicide, and the incessant growth of government. There is no leftist project that does not bear the stink of death.
This Chalcedon editorial, published today, meets this crisis head-on.
Christians do know what they’re against, but they’re not so clear about knowing what they’re for. This is what needs to be changed.
We do need “a new civilization,” founded on God’s law and God’s word; and the good news is that we, all of us, can start building one now. Right now. New schools, a re-commitment to the family, new science, and new churches. New everything.
We pray that God will equip us for our service to Christ’s Kingdom.
I’ve been looking forward to sharing with you this article by Martin Selbrede, “Are Christians Destroying the Kingdom?”, published in May in Chalcedon’s Arise and Build newsletter. Here it is–dive right in!
This whole idea that Christians shouldn’t get involved in “worldly” things like business, the arts and sciences, public affairs, etc., has done no end of damage. In the mid-19th century, for instance, most of America’s college presidents were also ordained ministers of the Gospel. Look at it now. Can anyone but a total lunatic argue that Christians were on the ball when they surrendered all of “education” to the heathen? Our colleges are pumping out poison today because Christians deluded by retreatist theology resigned those institutions to the enemy.
Besides which, just standing around strumming a harp and reciting psalms gets unbearably boring after a while.
Christ Himself commanded His servants, “Occupy until I come” (Luke 19:13); and the master in the parable was mighty made at the slothful servant who took the money he’d been entrusted with and simply buried it instead of investing it.
We are to be advancing Christ’s Kingdom: that’s why we’re here!
Mark Rushdoony wrote this timely reminded of where we and our world are going. It’s a Chalcedon blog piece: “The Operation of God’s Perpetual Providence.”
Eschatology, he says, has got to be “our ‘big picture’ of where history is going.” And we find that information in God’s word.
For God’s providence is never turned off, He is never not on duty. He will do all the things He has said He will do, and we who are His people are, by His loving grace, a part of that. We are not orphans: we have a Father. And a place in Christ’s Kingdom.
Something to remember, in this evil age.
Walking by faith and not by sight isn’t easy. These days, pessimism about the future seems to come natural–at least to me. Heck, I just wrote about some “famous” person teaching small children that abortion is “part of God’s plan.”
Chalcedon President Mark Rushdoony has addressed the problem of pessimism: his words are a much-appreciated tonic.
Who wants to be in Miss Abortion’s shoes on Judgment Day?
“And the Lord showed me four carpenters… these are come to fray them, to cast out the horns of the Gentiles, which lifted up their horn over the land of Judah to scatter it.” –Zechariah 1: 20, 21
How does God protect us from the dark? By giving light. How does God protect us from lies? By the truth.
In this essay, Chalcedon Vice President Martin Selbrede turns to the prophecy of Zechariah to shed light on the shameful, stressful age in which we live.
It’s a little long, but stay with it: Martin makes some points we need to hear. His “smiths” are the “carpenters” of the King James Version. God knows His people are surrounded by enemies, and He will do something about it. And because we are His people, His servants, there is a role for us to play.
Carpenters aren’t soldiers. Soldiers knock things down, but carpenters build. They will build Christ’s Kingdom on the earth; and not with bombs and bullets, but with truth.
But of course exposing humanistic fallacies to the light of absolute truth is more destructive to them than any bomb can be.
It feels so strange, not to be going to a family gathering for Thanksgiving for the first time in my life.
A few years ago, Aunt Joan and I tried to figure out what was the largest number of people we ever had at her house for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Depending on assorted variables, it came out to seventeen or eighteen. I’m not quite sure how we all fit into the living room, let alone around the table. But we did.
Now, most of us are either dead or else have moved too far away to get together. This was our family, people who loved each other. And the thing about it is, that love is still there: I still feel it. Maybe even more intensely than I did when we were all still there and could take each other for granted, sort of: an ordinary human failing. But the love endures.
As a tribute, let me publish our list: my mother and father, sister and brother, and Patty and me; Aunt Joan, Aunt Millie, Aunt Gertie; Aunt Florence and my cousins, Joanne and Christopher, and Chris’ wife, Marlene; Grammie, Uncle Bernie, and John; Barbara, a forever family friend; and my brother-in-law, Ray. In a sense that’s very hard to describe, they’re all still here, still loving, still loved. Because love endures. I think I love them even more today.
In Christ’s Kingdom we will gather again; and that will be a merry meeting.