Mesmerized by The Phone, Missed My Daughter
Phones and their social media apps algorithmically draws our time to exploit us. They do not just sell our privacy. They also shape our desires. By their use, we show a love for the digital, the use of the finger to swipe and tap. An ephemeral practice that leads nowhere and leaves nothing behind.
Today, I took my daughter to swimming lessons. With five other parents, I observed the class. I should say: I observed. At one point during the class, I looked around and saw every parent—all five—mesmerized by their phones. No parent watched their child. All watched their phones.
I am not uniquely virtuous. Last week, I was mesmerized by my phone. I missed my daughter when she dunked her head under water. She told me, don’t look at your phone! I mostly obeyed. I looked at my phone, but not for long. The compulsion to look took over, and I fell into a mania of technology. But I held on to my sanity. I stopped, and here is what I saw.
I saw a young boy tell my daughter, You are doing great! I watched my daughter swim in the deep end with a life jacket. I walked near her and told her she did great. She looked at me with glee, a smile broken across her face, saying something like, That is my daddy!
Whatever moment we had, we had because I was not memorized by the screen but by her.
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REVOLT: 85% of Anglican Leaders Reject Head Bishop of the 3rd-Largest Christian Denomination
How should Christians respond when LGBT activists demand they compromise the truth of Scripture by endorsing same-sex marriage and transgender identity?
A global gathering of Anglicans just provided an excellent example.
In February, Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby, the head of the Church of England and the “first among equals” in the global Anglican Communion, the third-largest Christian denomination, defended blessings for same-sex couples while insisting that the move did not violate the church’s doctrine that marriage is between one man and one woman for life.
“For the first time, the Church of England will publicly, unreservedly and joyfully welcome same-sex couples in church,” Welby said in a joint statement with Archbishop of York Stephen Cottrell at the time.
Leaders at the Global Anglican Future Conference (GAFCON) wouldn’t stand for this. On Friday, they signed the Kigali Commitment, condemning Welby’s move as “blasphemy” and declaring that he and the Church of England had abdicated their leadership of the Anglican Communion.
“It grieves the Holy Spirit and us that the leadership of the Church of England is determined to bless sin,” GAFCON leaders wrote in the Kigali Commitment. “Since the Lord does not bless same-sex unions, it is pastorally deceptive and blasphemous to craft prayers that invoke blessing in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”
GAFCON, which met last week in Kigali, Rwanda, declared Welby’s leadership “entirely indefensible.” The Kigali Commitment declares that the Church of England has “failed to maintain true communion based on the Word of God and shared faith in Christ,” therefore noting that GAFCON’s “communion with them remains broken.” That represents a kind of revolution and excommunication from below, in which the top leaders of Anglican churches—referred to as primates—brush away the historic head of the denomination.
“We consider that those who refuse to repent have abdicated their right to leadership within the Anglican Communion, and we commit ourselves to working with orthodox primates and other leaders to reset the Communion on its biblical foundations,” the commitment reads. The statement notes that GAFCON and the Global South Fellowship of Anglican Churches (which has also effectively excommunicated the Church of England) represent 85% of the primates in the Global Anglican Communion, the third-largest Christian denomination after the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches.
It remains unclear what will happen next for GAFCON and its ally, the Global South Fellowship. “The GAFCON primates are still finalizing the practicalities of the statement,” a spokeswoman for the conference told The Daily Signal on Tuesday.
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The Destruction of the Church As Metaphor
Written by Forrest L. Marion |
Monday, February 13, 2023
Based on the historical record, there is little doubt that at the time of its destruction Washington Street Methodist had been – for three decades – a powerhouse of gospel-focused labor aimed at improving the prospects for eternity of the enslaved population of South Carolina, and beyond.As Northern victory drew near in 1865, on the night of February 17/18 troops under General William T. Sherman set fire to the Washington Street Methodist Church in Columbia, South Carolina. Legend has it – highly plausible – that the soldiers intended to burn down the First Baptist Church. But when approached and queried by Union soldiers as to the Baptist church’s location, First Baptist’s quick-thinking sexton directed the soldiers around the corner to the Methodist church. Within minutes, that church was in flames. So goes the story.
Without a doubt, however, the First Baptist Church was where the first day’s meeting of the secession convention met, on December 17, 1860. But a smallpox epidemic had struck Columbia, so the delegates relocated to Charleston for the remainder of the convention, which voted unanimously on December 20 to withdraw from the Federal Union.
In America, the multitude of misunderstandings, ignorance, and errors of fact surrounding the political and social events from the 1860s are such that this little piece must refrain from addressing those important matters. Instead, it focuses on the burning of Washington Street Methodist and its relevance for today.
Washington Street Methodist is considered the mother church of all Methodists in Columbia. The first meeting house was a wooden structure built in 1804. In 1831, two men, Dr. William Capers – who pastored the church four times during his ministry (1818, 1831, 1835, 1846) – and William M. Kennedy, a former pastor and presiding elder of the Columbia district, laid the cornerstone of a new edifice, which was completed in 1832.
The first decades of the nineteenth century, known as the Second Awakening period, witnessed a mixed-bag of authentic gospel progress as well as more-or-less contrived professions of conversion and Christian faith which often were – and still are for historians – difficult to distinguish. William Capers, seemingly indefatigable and one of the few college-educated Methodist ministers in the area, was active as pastor, missionary, editor, and more. In 1821 he founded the Asbury Mission to the Creek Indians. Eight years later, he “took the lead in establishing plantation missions to slaves” among South Carolina Methodists. The same year, 1829, “Washington Street Church added 116 blacks to its roll.” (In 1830, Columbia’s population was 3,300.) Capers published a Catechism for the Use of the Methodist Missions (mainly for slaves), which, incidentally, is similar to the valuable children’s catechism used by some churches today (including in the PCA). Capers’s catechism began:
Who made you? God.What did he make you for? For his glory.Who is God? The Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.What do you know of him? God is holy, just and true.What else do you know of him? God is merciful, good and gracious.
Later, Capers’s missionary work spread to neighboring states. In the 1840s, Southern Methodists considered the mission to the slaves as “the crowning glory of our church.” When in 1855 Capers died, he had pastored Washington Street Church four times, his influence felt there even when not serving as their pastor. A fellow Methodist pastor preached his funeral service from Acts 13:36, “For David, after he had served his own generation by the will of God, fell on sleep.” A biographer of Capers wrote, “. . . a great many . . . of his beloved flock passed by the altar, where lay the body of the faithful shepherd. . . . It was particularly affecting to see the colored people pass before the coffin with a tear and a sigh.”
Based on the historical record, there is little doubt that at the time of its destruction Washington Street Methodist had been – for three decades – a powerhouse of gospel-focused labor aimed at improving the prospects for eternity of the enslaved population of South Carolina, and beyond.
Readers, try to set aside the all-too-common presentism of today. Dr. Capers and many others devoted themselves to providing the gospel of Jesus Christ to a segment of the population which otherwise was unlikely ever to hear the words of life in a manner suitable to their knowledge and understanding. Capers and a number of ministers in denominations in the South – especially Baptist, Presbyterian, and Episcopal – committed themselves to doing what they could. As the Puritan Matthew Henry wrote, if we may not do what we would, we must do what we could. The Southern ministers had no power to change the institutions of society at-large, even if some believed that to be part of the church’s calling.
The matter of the intentional burning down of any Christian church in a land where the vast majority at least nominally professed the God of the Bible is, of course, a troubling concern, but beyond the scope here. The fact was that Sherman’s men burned to it the ground – probably by mistake – the very church in Columbia that had done more than may be known on this side of glory for the souls of a poor and lowly people in the South.
The burning of Washington Street Methodist, then, is a metaphor in America today for the terrible destruction wrought by those who – regardless of their intent – confidently think themselves pure, righteous above all others. We are surrounded by those who never build anything – they only destroy. While the 94th Psalm refers to a throne, a broader aperture is fair for the purpose here: “Can a throne of destruction be allied with Thee, One which devises mischief by decree?” (94:20). And from Isaiah (with allowance for context), “Who among us can live with continual burning?” (33:14). Christians – those who build, not burn – must think rightly about the controversies of our day, and that means according to sola scriptura.
Forrest L. Marion is a member of First Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Crossville, Tenn
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One Last Magnificent Porous Day
In this final passive act, the Queen called us to acknowledge not our inner selves, or our felt selves, or our authentic selves, or whatever the latest psychobabble bon mot is that describes incurvatus in se, (the self curved in on itself) – but God Himself above. Her commitment to transcendence – God’s transcendence meant that down here she lived a life lived outwardly and upwardly.
For one brief day the world was porous again.
For one brief day we recognised that the invisible world still leaks into the visible.
For one brief day – perhaps one final day – transcendence was admitted into the public square in the modern Western world, and we all stood and acknowledged it.
For one brief day the immanent frame of our secular imaginary was peeled back, and we were given a vision, albeit in shadow form, of what true majesty might look like.
And for one brief day the nation, indeed billions around the world, watched as a Queen, whose every fibre acknowledged that transcendence, was honoured and laid to rest.
And for an even briefer two minutes – the whole nation fell silent, and the shockwaves of that silence spread to us as well. No phones, no blips, no bleeps, no pings. Silence.
In this final passive act, the Queen called us to acknowledge not our inner selves, or our felt selves, or our authentic selves, or whatever the latest psychobabble bon mot is that describes incurvatus in se, (the self curved in on itself) – but God Himself above.
Her commitment to transcendence – God’s transcendence meant that down here she lived a life lived outwardly and upwardly. That Archbishop Justin Welby acknowledged that very fact as he opened his homily is worth noting.
I read in The Times just prior to the funeral that the word was that French President Emmanuel Macron would throw “a hissy fit” if he were not right up the front. Which of course makes sense coming from that most secular of countries in which the immanent frame is a public virtue. The desire for transcendence never leaves us, it is merely transferred. Perhaps he is aptly named Emmanuel.
Tony Blair’s senior advisor famously said that the British Government doesn’t “do God”. And, my, how it has shown over the decades since.
Perhaps, if I may be patriotic, a special thank you to our new Prime Minister in Australia, Anthony Albanese, whose grace, wisdom and manner has been exemplary for our nation at this time. Not too heavy, not too light. Just right. But then again, as he himself said, the Catholic Church is one of the great shapers of his own life. He knows transcendence when he sees it.
The Queen, however, was the ultimate counter to all the immanent politics. Her funeral was a breath-taking acknowledgement of the reality of heaven above us, hell below us.
The fact that seating arrangements were such as to ensure warring nations were kept apart, and ancient enmities acknowledged, shows how porous reality is. Hell has leaked upwards. It may be around for some time yet.
And the whole ceremony was a counter to the dreadful opening ceremony of the Tokyo Olympics – the high point of immanence in our public life – in which John Lennon’s Imagine was the opening hymn. Right in the midst of a pandemic we were told to look within ourselves and be happy. Imagine that indeed.
Imagine too if the Queen had died during the pandemic. We would have not witnessed what we did. Perhaps this was a gift from God to us, to give us one last look at something that publicly pointed to something – to Someone – beyond itself and beyond herself. Am I over-egging the cake?
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